Chapter Three Hundred Twenty-Two: 'Alas, thy broken spirit...'
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...Forty-three years ago...
"How long do we have?" said Sermung.
"Until Parson and Damian arrive?" said Jonah. "Not long. Could be minutes, could be another hour, depending on how lazy they're feeling today. But I can help conceal you from them, if you'd like to observe the meeting."
"Thank you, but that won't be necessary." Then the Crystal Titan paused for a smile. "Growing confident in your power, aren't you?"
"Only thanks to Tenebrach. Is he here? I don't sense him."
"He is. And I think he is even helping you as we speak." Sermung bobbed his head to the side. "But you know how he gets."
Jonah couldn't help frowning a little. "Yes. I do..."
"That's just his way. Don't take it too hard."
"No, believe me, I understand," said Jonah. "He's right to be wary, even now. I'm obviously... unstable. It's just..." He looked around the seemingly empty chamber. "Thank you, Tenebrach. For everything."
No response arrived.
Which was probably for the best.
Sermung huffed. "Mule-headed, that one. He won't tell you, but he appreciates your words, Jonah."
Jonah just nodded.
The Titan spared a glance at Nerovoy, who was frozen there next to Jonah.
Jonah hated using his powers on Nerovoy, but at this point, it was for the reaper's own good. They couldn't have Nerovoy learning something important and then letting it slip to Ettol later.
It was sad beyond words, but the reaper was all but a lost cause, now. Ettol seemed to think that there might still be some way to heal him permanently, but Jonah found such a prospect to be extremely dubious. Storms, that was probably just another one of those lies that Ettol was trying to convince even himself of.
The bastard's tried-and-true method of diffusing responsibility.
Sermung made no comment about the reaper's condition. No doubt, he could already guess the situation--assuming he didn't outright know everything already. With Tenebrach at his side, that was entirely possible, Jonah knew.
When Sermung's gaze fell upon the silver wolf, however, he did decide to say something. "How aware is this one of the situation?"
Jonah shook his head. "I honestly don't know. His consciousness and sense of self are being suppressed, but there is... an inner core, of sorts, that remains utterly opaque to me."
Sermung reached toward the wolf, prompting Koh to sniff his hand.
A dark serial novel. Set in a modern fantasy world called Eleg. Mature language. Updates every day at noon PST by ~400 words.
Showing posts with label ch321. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ch321. Show all posts
Friday, January 23, 2026
Thursday, January 22, 2026
Page 4028
"Who are you?" said Ettol, knowing it would almost certainly go unanswered.
The stranger stepped closer. "You're not feeling well, are you?"
Ettol grabbed his forehead. "No. I know who you are, don't I? But your name--it's being--agh..."
There was no pain, but that was not a good thing, he knew. Because there should have been. Something important was missing. He could sense it. Something very important was missing from his memory.
Jonah. No. Not just Jonah. Others, as well. Someone had helped him.
The parasites? They knew about Jonah? Had made contact with him? When?
The stranger's hand was on Ettol's shoulder now.
Ettol wanted to rip it from the other man's arm. To attack and then flee as fast as he possibly could.
But his body wouldn't even move. And a foreign calm had come over him. Pressing down on his mind. His thoughts. Settling his concerns. His questions.
His impulses.
Telling him that everything was fine. There was nothing to worry about. Just like the man in front of him was doing.
"It's okay," said the stranger. "Relax. You're perfectly safe with me."
Every fiber of his being was rejecting those words.
No one did this to Ettol. Ettol did this to others. This was not allowable. Not proper or acceptable.
So why couldn't he break free, then?
Because he was still too young, of course. This incarnation, too weak.
And because of Jonah.
Always Jonah.
Undermining his every effort. Constantly.
He'd been too soft, hadn't he? Too sympathetic. Granted Jonah too much influence.
Jonah had grown stronger than he realized. Enough to conceal things from him. To manipulate his memories in return.
Kehe.
Didn't feel good, did it? Having a taste of your own medicine? There'd been a time when Jonah had thought that maybe Ettol could still change for the better--that perhaps seeing what it was like to be manipulated would alter his perspective of doing such things to others.
But no. Jonah knew better by now.
Ettol would not learn from this experience. He would only grow angry and spiteful. Which was obviously going to be a problem, of course.
But there was nothing for it, unfortunately. Jonah intended to make Ettol show his true colors, no matter what. This fight could never be won, otherwise.
Ah.
That was better. Back in control again. That was right. Just relax, Ettol. This meeting wasn't for you.
"Sermung," said Jonah.
And the other man blinked at him. "Aha... there you are, Jonah. You had me worried."
The stranger stepped closer. "You're not feeling well, are you?"
Ettol grabbed his forehead. "No. I know who you are, don't I? But your name--it's being--agh..."
There was no pain, but that was not a good thing, he knew. Because there should have been. Something important was missing. He could sense it. Something very important was missing from his memory.
Jonah. No. Not just Jonah. Others, as well. Someone had helped him.
The parasites? They knew about Jonah? Had made contact with him? When?
The stranger's hand was on Ettol's shoulder now.
Ettol wanted to rip it from the other man's arm. To attack and then flee as fast as he possibly could.
But his body wouldn't even move. And a foreign calm had come over him. Pressing down on his mind. His thoughts. Settling his concerns. His questions.
His impulses.
Telling him that everything was fine. There was nothing to worry about. Just like the man in front of him was doing.
"It's okay," said the stranger. "Relax. You're perfectly safe with me."
Every fiber of his being was rejecting those words.
No one did this to Ettol. Ettol did this to others. This was not allowable. Not proper or acceptable.
So why couldn't he break free, then?
Because he was still too young, of course. This incarnation, too weak.
And because of Jonah.
Always Jonah.
Undermining his every effort. Constantly.
He'd been too soft, hadn't he? Too sympathetic. Granted Jonah too much influence.
Jonah had grown stronger than he realized. Enough to conceal things from him. To manipulate his memories in return.
Kehe.
Didn't feel good, did it? Having a taste of your own medicine? There'd been a time when Jonah had thought that maybe Ettol could still change for the better--that perhaps seeing what it was like to be manipulated would alter his perspective of doing such things to others.
But no. Jonah knew better by now.
Ettol would not learn from this experience. He would only grow angry and spiteful. Which was obviously going to be a problem, of course.
But there was nothing for it, unfortunately. Jonah intended to make Ettol show his true colors, no matter what. This fight could never be won, otherwise.
Ah.
That was better. Back in control again. That was right. Just relax, Ettol. This meeting wasn't for you.
"Sermung," said Jonah.
And the other man blinked at him. "Aha... there you are, Jonah. You had me worried."
Sunday, January 18, 2026
Page 4027
"Hah. No. But as I mentioned, I am rather busy, at the moment. Perhaps we could pick this up another time."
"Oh, I'm sure we will. But I am curious about who you are meeting."
"I am surprised you do not already know. I was getting the impression that you had already been observing me for some time."
"Not at all. I merely found a door and gave it a knock. You are the one who decided to answer."
Ettol wondered how much he should trust those words. His instinct told him not at all, but then, these Oathbearers were quite simple-minded, weren't they? Lacking guile in the extreme. Often outright incapable of lying, due to their chosen covenant.
And this one... well, he did seem a little different, truth be told, but not overly so.
Which was beginning to render Ettol bored. While, yes, Oathbearers were indeed his favorite opponents, that was only when there was an actual fight to be had; and this did not appear to be that--nor had he lied when he'd said that he was not in the mood for one.
Just another overly simplistic distraction when he had more important matters to be worrying about. If this man wanted--
Wait a minute.
Something wasn't right here.
If this was a mere Oathbearer, then how had he rejected the psychic marker at the beginning of their conversation?
He'd nearly forgotten about that. How? Psychic manipulation?
That would be the traditional explanation, but no... it couldn't be that. If there was one thing Ettol had confidence in, it was matters of mental manipulation and psychic influence. Just by being in the same room, he would be able to tell if this person in front of him harbored such abilities.
And yet still, he sensed nothing. Sure, Oathbearers could be otherwise completely normal human beings, but then how did he reject the marker?
...Moreover, when had it even been confirmed that he was an Oathbearer?
Hadn't Ettol just been worried that the man might have been faking? Where had that concern disappeared to? Jonah? Agh, maybe. But even if so, might that also mean Jonah knew something of this man that he did not?
Impossible...
Unconsciously, Ettol took a step back.
There was more than just something wrong here, he realized. All of a sudden, nothing seemed right.
"Easy now," said the stranger in a voice that was admittedly quite soothing. "Don't get skittish on me. I'm not going to hurt you."
"Oh, I'm sure we will. But I am curious about who you are meeting."
"I am surprised you do not already know. I was getting the impression that you had already been observing me for some time."
"Not at all. I merely found a door and gave it a knock. You are the one who decided to answer."
Ettol wondered how much he should trust those words. His instinct told him not at all, but then, these Oathbearers were quite simple-minded, weren't they? Lacking guile in the extreme. Often outright incapable of lying, due to their chosen covenant.
And this one... well, he did seem a little different, truth be told, but not overly so.
Which was beginning to render Ettol bored. While, yes, Oathbearers were indeed his favorite opponents, that was only when there was an actual fight to be had; and this did not appear to be that--nor had he lied when he'd said that he was not in the mood for one.
Just another overly simplistic distraction when he had more important matters to be worrying about. If this man wanted--
Wait a minute.
Something wasn't right here.
If this was a mere Oathbearer, then how had he rejected the psychic marker at the beginning of their conversation?
He'd nearly forgotten about that. How? Psychic manipulation?
That would be the traditional explanation, but no... it couldn't be that. If there was one thing Ettol had confidence in, it was matters of mental manipulation and psychic influence. Just by being in the same room, he would be able to tell if this person in front of him harbored such abilities.
And yet still, he sensed nothing. Sure, Oathbearers could be otherwise completely normal human beings, but then how did he reject the marker?
...Moreover, when had it even been confirmed that he was an Oathbearer?
Hadn't Ettol just been worried that the man might have been faking? Where had that concern disappeared to? Jonah? Agh, maybe. But even if so, might that also mean Jonah knew something of this man that he did not?
Impossible...
Unconsciously, Ettol took a step back.
There was more than just something wrong here, he realized. All of a sudden, nothing seemed right.
"Easy now," said the stranger in a voice that was admittedly quite soothing. "Don't get skittish on me. I'm not going to hurt you."
Saturday, January 17, 2026
Page 4026
"I will have to take your word on that," said Ettol. "To give up so much freedom for a whiff of extra power is not something I could ever abide or even condone. Truly, you have my pity, sir."
"That is one way of looking at it, I suppose. Another is that the only true freedom to be had comes from mastery of one's own circumstances and view. From an understanding that limitation makes way for imagination."
"Spoken like a pawn of the most obedient nature."
"If you think an attack on my pride will make any headway, then you will be sorely disappointed. That is the language of your kind, friend. Which I find increasingly ironic, the more I think about it."
"Ironic, is it? And how is that? You wrap yourself in chains, yet think me the slave here?"
"Always talking of freedom, but you have no qualms taking it from others, do you? If you really believed what you claim, then you would have left this realm in peace Ages ago. Left us to our own devices."
"Oh? 'Us,' you say? You count yourself among them, Oathbearer?"
"Of course I do."
"Now that is the real farce here, surely. Does that not count as a breach of your covenant?"
"If it did, we would both know so immediately."
"Heh. A fair point, I suppose."
Another period of silence arrived.
In that exchange, Ettol had learned even more than he'd wanted to about this person. Memories of so many encounters were coming to mind involuntarily now, making him relive countless fights and arguments with the most ancient enemy of his kin. Even if he'd never met this one before, they were all the same, in the end.
What an awful day it had turned out to be.
He'd been hoping against hope that, during his most recent imprisonment, they had finally all been eradicated--or at least chased away from this realm--but that was clearly not the case.
"...So is it to be a fight, then?" said Ettol. "Because to be quite frank with you, sir, I am not much in the mood."
The stranger's smile returned. "Nor am I. Even if we are of differing views, that does not mean we must make war, does it?"
"History would suggest otherwise."
"Indeed. But the future remains full of possibility."
Ettol had to suppress his own irritation. "Why did you seek me out? For the philosophical debate?"
"Would it be so terrible if I said yes?"
"That is one way of looking at it, I suppose. Another is that the only true freedom to be had comes from mastery of one's own circumstances and view. From an understanding that limitation makes way for imagination."
"Spoken like a pawn of the most obedient nature."
"If you think an attack on my pride will make any headway, then you will be sorely disappointed. That is the language of your kind, friend. Which I find increasingly ironic, the more I think about it."
"Ironic, is it? And how is that? You wrap yourself in chains, yet think me the slave here?"
"Always talking of freedom, but you have no qualms taking it from others, do you? If you really believed what you claim, then you would have left this realm in peace Ages ago. Left us to our own devices."
"Oh? 'Us,' you say? You count yourself among them, Oathbearer?"
"Of course I do."
"Now that is the real farce here, surely. Does that not count as a breach of your covenant?"
"If it did, we would both know so immediately."
"Heh. A fair point, I suppose."
Another period of silence arrived.
In that exchange, Ettol had learned even more than he'd wanted to about this person. Memories of so many encounters were coming to mind involuntarily now, making him relive countless fights and arguments with the most ancient enemy of his kin. Even if he'd never met this one before, they were all the same, in the end.
What an awful day it had turned out to be.
He'd been hoping against hope that, during his most recent imprisonment, they had finally all been eradicated--or at least chased away from this realm--but that was clearly not the case.
"...So is it to be a fight, then?" said Ettol. "Because to be quite frank with you, sir, I am not much in the mood."
The stranger's smile returned. "Nor am I. Even if we are of differing views, that does not mean we must make war, does it?"
"History would suggest otherwise."
"Indeed. But the future remains full of possibility."
Ettol had to suppress his own irritation. "Why did you seek me out? For the philosophical debate?"
"Would it be so terrible if I said yes?"
Friday, January 16, 2026
Page 4025
The other man smiled warmly, but he said nothing. Instead, his gaze fell upon Koh, who was lying down in the corner of the room, head resting on his front paws.
A long moment transpired as Ettol continued waiting, unsure what to try next.
He hated being on the back foot like this, not knowing who he was dealing with. What a mistake, answering that knock so cordially. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so eager to re-initiate contact with his brethren. The timing hadn't exactly been ideal, either.
Careful, he told himself. Careful and steady.
He decided to reassess the situation. Might this time actually prove advantageous? Damian and Parson were set to arrive any minute now--could they be useful here? If this stranger was an adversary--as he increasingly seemed to be--then it would certainly be better not to face him alone.
But how to explain the stranger's presence? An elaborate fiction might be needed. Ettol disliked resorting to those, as they tended to cause future complications, but if there was no other way, then--
"I've a question for you," said the stranger.
"Yes?"
"Have you seen a man with a large scar over his right eye?" He pointed to his own eye.
Ettol's gaze twitched. "You are in search of such a man?"
"Among other things, yes. Have you seen him?"
"I'm afraid not, though I've met many with similar scars. Perhaps you could tell me his name?"
"Oh, he would have left quite an impression, I'm sure. If you'd met him, I doubt you would mistake him for someone else, even with that meager description."
Avoidance. Again. It was no coincidence, Ettol felt.
"...Are you an Oathbearer?" said Ettol.
The stranger made no response.
All but confirmation, as far as Ettol was concerned. But still, he should be wary of an elaborate ruse. Oathbearers were some of his favorite opponents from the First Age. So full of pride, yet so easily undone.
That was why this could be a ploy. A trick to put him at ease. To make him stop being cautious.
Only someone extremely knowledgeable of the ancient world would be able to pull off such a thing, though.
Hmm.
"You have my sympathy, if so," Ettol went on. "It cannot be easy, living a life of constant repression."
"We all do it, in one way or another," said the stranger. "It is just a matter of understanding the bounds of one's own inner compass. Done properly, the 'repression,' as you put it, is hardly even felt."
A long moment transpired as Ettol continued waiting, unsure what to try next.
He hated being on the back foot like this, not knowing who he was dealing with. What a mistake, answering that knock so cordially. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so eager to re-initiate contact with his brethren. The timing hadn't exactly been ideal, either.
Careful, he told himself. Careful and steady.
He decided to reassess the situation. Might this time actually prove advantageous? Damian and Parson were set to arrive any minute now--could they be useful here? If this stranger was an adversary--as he increasingly seemed to be--then it would certainly be better not to face him alone.
But how to explain the stranger's presence? An elaborate fiction might be needed. Ettol disliked resorting to those, as they tended to cause future complications, but if there was no other way, then--
"I've a question for you," said the stranger.
"Yes?"
"Have you seen a man with a large scar over his right eye?" He pointed to his own eye.
Ettol's gaze twitched. "You are in search of such a man?"
"Among other things, yes. Have you seen him?"
"I'm afraid not, though I've met many with similar scars. Perhaps you could tell me his name?"
"Oh, he would have left quite an impression, I'm sure. If you'd met him, I doubt you would mistake him for someone else, even with that meager description."
Avoidance. Again. It was no coincidence, Ettol felt.
"...Are you an Oathbearer?" said Ettol.
The stranger made no response.
All but confirmation, as far as Ettol was concerned. But still, he should be wary of an elaborate ruse. Oathbearers were some of his favorite opponents from the First Age. So full of pride, yet so easily undone.
That was why this could be a ploy. A trick to put him at ease. To make him stop being cautious.
Only someone extremely knowledgeable of the ancient world would be able to pull off such a thing, though.
Hmm.
"You have my sympathy, if so," Ettol went on. "It cannot be easy, living a life of constant repression."
"We all do it, in one way or another," said the stranger. "It is just a matter of understanding the bounds of one's own inner compass. Done properly, the 'repression,' as you put it, is hardly even felt."
Thursday, January 15, 2026
Page 4024
What in the world was that?
Psychic feedback?
No... even in this low-powered state, Ettol could still guard himself against that tactic, for the most part. Not to mention, being the victim of malicious feedback was excruciatingly painful, while this hadn't hurt at all.
Instead, he'd only felt that windy pulse. Briefly disorienting, perhaps, but painless.
What did that mean? Was this a fellow wielder of the Windlight? Somehow, Ettol did not think so. Surely, a fellow wielder would be more easily recognizable than this.
The stranger was remaining quiet, he noticed. Not pressing for information. Not demanding anything. Just standing there, blankly.
"...Why have you come?" said Ettol.
"Why did you accept me in?" said the stranger.
Hmph. "I enjoy meeting new people."
"Or perhaps you were expecting someone else? Someone more familiar to you?"
"Someone like who?"
"One of your fellow visitors," said the man.
And Ettol paused. Something in the way he'd said that made the Gentleman of Palei hesitate. There was no obvious malice in it, nor had this stranger made any hostile movements towards him thus far.
And yet...
Visitors, were they? That choice of word felt particularly loaded. It indicated not just a rare piece of knowledge about him and his kin, but also an opinion about said knowledge.
An opinion that Ettol had not often found very warm or welcoming in the long history of his incarnations.
Perhaps his next words were Germal's influence, because he decided, for once, to be more direct. "Do you consider me your enemy, stranger?"
"Should I?"
"Certainly not. But it would also help me to answer that question more exhaustively if you told me who you were."
"Well, I wouldn't want you to exhaust yourself."
"Heh. Kind of you to worry, but I am tougher than I look."
"I'm sure you are."
"A name is all I am requesting. Is that so much to ask?"
"Not at all. But lying would be a hassle. And hypocritical, perhaps."
"A lie by omission is still a lie, no? Or so people keep telling me."
"Then it is a good thing that omission and refusal are not the same thing."
Yes, this opponent was quite experienced, indeed. There was no telling how much he already knew of Ettol and his kin.
"...Very well, then," said Ettol. "It is obvious enough that you want something from me. If you would tell me what you are looking for, then perhaps I might help you find it."
Psychic feedback?
No... even in this low-powered state, Ettol could still guard himself against that tactic, for the most part. Not to mention, being the victim of malicious feedback was excruciatingly painful, while this hadn't hurt at all.
Instead, he'd only felt that windy pulse. Briefly disorienting, perhaps, but painless.
What did that mean? Was this a fellow wielder of the Windlight? Somehow, Ettol did not think so. Surely, a fellow wielder would be more easily recognizable than this.
The stranger was remaining quiet, he noticed. Not pressing for information. Not demanding anything. Just standing there, blankly.
"...Why have you come?" said Ettol.
"Why did you accept me in?" said the stranger.
Hmph. "I enjoy meeting new people."
"Or perhaps you were expecting someone else? Someone more familiar to you?"
"Someone like who?"
"One of your fellow visitors," said the man.
And Ettol paused. Something in the way he'd said that made the Gentleman of Palei hesitate. There was no obvious malice in it, nor had this stranger made any hostile movements towards him thus far.
And yet...
Visitors, were they? That choice of word felt particularly loaded. It indicated not just a rare piece of knowledge about him and his kin, but also an opinion about said knowledge.
An opinion that Ettol had not often found very warm or welcoming in the long history of his incarnations.
Perhaps his next words were Germal's influence, because he decided, for once, to be more direct. "Do you consider me your enemy, stranger?"
"Should I?"
"Certainly not. But it would also help me to answer that question more exhaustively if you told me who you were."
"Well, I wouldn't want you to exhaust yourself."
"Heh. Kind of you to worry, but I am tougher than I look."
"I'm sure you are."
"A name is all I am requesting. Is that so much to ask?"
"Not at all. But lying would be a hassle. And hypocritical, perhaps."
"A lie by omission is still a lie, no? Or so people keep telling me."
"Then it is a good thing that omission and refusal are not the same thing."
Yes, this opponent was quite experienced, indeed. There was no telling how much he already knew of Ettol and his kin.
"...Very well, then," said Ettol. "It is obvious enough that you want something from me. If you would tell me what you are looking for, then perhaps I might help you find it."
Wednesday, January 14, 2026
Page 4023
The one who stepped forth, however, was not someone whom he immediately recognized. An entirely unfamiliar face.
That much was not uncommon, of course. His kin acquired new faces with each incarnation.
What was uncommon was for him to still have no clue who he was looking at. His kin were not just their faces, after all. And the process of rebirth was one of his great areas of expertise. Typically, he could still piece together who it was by sensing familiar traces in their soul, aura, and thought patterns.
New, yet familiar--that was how he usually found them.
But instead, this person was entirely strange to him. And Ettol found himself instantly unsettled, as well.
Was it a brand new soul, perhaps? One he'd simply never met before? On its first visit from beyond the Veil?
No, there was something more here... or something missing, rather. Ettol couldn't sense this person's soul or aura at all. Not their patterns of thought, either.
It was like a blank page standing in front of him.
It almost reminded him of their so-called father. But not quite. Ettol was never going to forget what he was like, nor did he ever expect to see another incarnation of him again.
Silence fell over the room as the new arrival laid eyes upon Ettol, looking him up and down while saying nothing.
Ettol was reluctant to speak first, though he did not precisely know why. This stranger--it almost felt like speaking first would give away a vital advantage, somehow.
Who was this man? Why had he made contact all of a sudden?
And why did he look so plain?
Such basic attire. White shirt with gray pants. Brown hair, brown eyes, average height, average build, average features. Not even a whiff of guile or attentiveness in his gaze. Like he was hardly even present--both physically and mentally.
At length, Ettol's discomfort grew too terrible, and he was compelled to get the conversation started. "I'm sorry, but I do not have long. I'm expecting company. It is a pleasure to meet you, but if there is something you wish to talk to me about, then please, make it be known now."
The stranger took his time responding. "Don't mind me. Go ahead and conduct your meeting."
Ettol had to consciously stop himself from squinting. "Might you honor me with your name, cedo?"
But rather than getting an answer with words, Ettol instead felt a sudden gust of wind wash over him.
And through him, too.
As if the words he'd just spoken had been rejected and thrown right back into his face. Right back into his very head, even.
"Do not do that, please," said the stranger. "I mislike being marked."
That much was not uncommon, of course. His kin acquired new faces with each incarnation.
What was uncommon was for him to still have no clue who he was looking at. His kin were not just their faces, after all. And the process of rebirth was one of his great areas of expertise. Typically, he could still piece together who it was by sensing familiar traces in their soul, aura, and thought patterns.
New, yet familiar--that was how he usually found them.
But instead, this person was entirely strange to him. And Ettol found himself instantly unsettled, as well.
Was it a brand new soul, perhaps? One he'd simply never met before? On its first visit from beyond the Veil?
No, there was something more here... or something missing, rather. Ettol couldn't sense this person's soul or aura at all. Not their patterns of thought, either.
It was like a blank page standing in front of him.
It almost reminded him of their so-called father. But not quite. Ettol was never going to forget what he was like, nor did he ever expect to see another incarnation of him again.
Silence fell over the room as the new arrival laid eyes upon Ettol, looking him up and down while saying nothing.
Ettol was reluctant to speak first, though he did not precisely know why. This stranger--it almost felt like speaking first would give away a vital advantage, somehow.
Who was this man? Why had he made contact all of a sudden?
And why did he look so plain?
Such basic attire. White shirt with gray pants. Brown hair, brown eyes, average height, average build, average features. Not even a whiff of guile or attentiveness in his gaze. Like he was hardly even present--both physically and mentally.
At length, Ettol's discomfort grew too terrible, and he was compelled to get the conversation started. "I'm sorry, but I do not have long. I'm expecting company. It is a pleasure to meet you, but if there is something you wish to talk to me about, then please, make it be known now."
The stranger took his time responding. "Don't mind me. Go ahead and conduct your meeting."
Ettol had to consciously stop himself from squinting. "Might you honor me with your name, cedo?"
But rather than getting an answer with words, Ettol instead felt a sudden gust of wind wash over him.
And through him, too.
As if the words he'd just spoken had been rejected and thrown right back into his face. Right back into his very head, even.
"Do not do that, please," said the stranger. "I mislike being marked."
Sunday, January 11, 2026
Page 4022
There had to be something here, though. Disturbances did not occur without cause, even if it was a naturally occurring one. Might there be some sudden outgrowth of this place's geographic resonance? Ardor often behaved that way when connected to a deep reserve. Rather than flowing and gradually building, it typically pooled together in one place until it spiked up abruptly or even exploded into new strength.
That was how many of these places were born, after all: from great spikes of ardor located deep within the planet itself.
But still. That was unlikely to be the explanation here. With such coincidental timing? While he just so happened to be visiting for the first time in years?
Was someone else here? Or... about to be, perhaps?
He exerted more influence with his soul, expanding his domain further outward, beyond the room's walls. It weakened the domain itself, of course, having to spread his power out more thinly over a wider area, but it also allowed him to detect disturbances at a greater range. This way, perhaps he could sense a pattern. A flow.
Ah. There on his right. Through the window. There was a winding path. Growing more intense as he focused on it--but not to the point of bursting. It wasn't trying to be invasive.
Now he understood. It was a knock. Someone asking for an invitation into his domain. How long had that been following him? It could have been years, just waiting for him to exert a large enough domain for him to sense its presence.
Waiting for him to grow powerful enough, in other words.
He still couldn't sense who it was, though. Either they were hiding their identity from him, or he was still quite lacking in otherworldly strength.
Another thing to worry about. The regrowth of their power was often non-linear. Some incarnations grew very quickly--assimilated efficiently and easily, perhaps even achieving previously untouched heights--while others were slow and stubborn, resisting growth at every turn.
Damn you, Jonah.
Well, regardless, he wasn't about to refuse the invite. It could be this incarnation's first real encounter with one of his kin. Ettol was only too eager to catch up, after all these years.
The disturbance grew and grew, until it was an almost visible tunnel. Its connection to his mind was so strong that he could nearly see it with his physical eyes.
Impressive. A path that powerful could have reached the other side of Eleg, for all he knew.
That was how many of these places were born, after all: from great spikes of ardor located deep within the planet itself.
But still. That was unlikely to be the explanation here. With such coincidental timing? While he just so happened to be visiting for the first time in years?
Was someone else here? Or... about to be, perhaps?
He exerted more influence with his soul, expanding his domain further outward, beyond the room's walls. It weakened the domain itself, of course, having to spread his power out more thinly over a wider area, but it also allowed him to detect disturbances at a greater range. This way, perhaps he could sense a pattern. A flow.
Ah. There on his right. Through the window. There was a winding path. Growing more intense as he focused on it--but not to the point of bursting. It wasn't trying to be invasive.
Now he understood. It was a knock. Someone asking for an invitation into his domain. How long had that been following him? It could have been years, just waiting for him to exert a large enough domain for him to sense its presence.
Waiting for him to grow powerful enough, in other words.
He still couldn't sense who it was, though. Either they were hiding their identity from him, or he was still quite lacking in otherworldly strength.
Another thing to worry about. The regrowth of their power was often non-linear. Some incarnations grew very quickly--assimilated efficiently and easily, perhaps even achieving previously untouched heights--while others were slow and stubborn, resisting growth at every turn.
Damn you, Jonah.
Well, regardless, he wasn't about to refuse the invite. It could be this incarnation's first real encounter with one of his kin. Ettol was only too eager to catch up, after all these years.
The disturbance grew and grew, until it was an almost visible tunnel. Its connection to his mind was so strong that he could nearly see it with his physical eyes.
Impressive. A path that powerful could have reached the other side of Eleg, for all he knew.
Thursday, January 8, 2026
Page 4021
The update continued for a while longer. There was much to go over, and Ettol doubted that he would get around to everything, but it was still worth a try. He would have started even earlier, but this invigorating period wasn't likely to last for more than a few hours.
But then again... Hmm. Perhaps if he could establish a large enough domain around himself, Nerovoy's condition might remain stable for longer. He didn't know if he was yet strong enough to maintain such a technique, nor did he have any recent practice with it, but he supposed it was at least worth a shot.
It would be a problem if the meeting dragged on--which was quite likely to happen, considering how many years of catching up there was to be done.
Yes.
He decided to give it a try, pulling on the Windlight again. Not making a demand. Asking gently for its assistance.
It responded eagerly, and he merged it with the force of his mind to establish an aerial bubble around himself. That was the first step. Next was to focus on its outer layer--a kind of psychic film--so that he could empower it with his soul.
And finally, he needed to let the Windlight fill in the rest of the space. An invisible balloon, of sorts, growing to be about as large as the room itself. As long as Nerovoy stayed within it, the reaper would theoretically stop regressing.
But it was still primitive. Others might be able to sense its presence when they passed through it. Adding an aspect of stealth to it was probably still beyond him, at this point. Making such an attempt would be a needless risk to its structural integrity when he could instead merely tell the others that he was practicing a new technique.
And that wouldn't even be a lie.
Perfect.
Now he just had to get comfortable and finish waiting.
At length, however, he was beginning to grow impatient. Those two jackasses were certainly taking their sweet time, weren't they? Eyeing his watch, he realized that it was nearly the agreed upon hour.
Why did they never bother to arrive even a little bit early? One would think that they would have eventually learned from his example after all these years.
But then again, he supposed their predictability was also a big part of what he liked about them. It certainly made his life--
A disturbance in his domain.
Germal looked around but didn't see anyone other than Nerovoy.
But then again... Hmm. Perhaps if he could establish a large enough domain around himself, Nerovoy's condition might remain stable for longer. He didn't know if he was yet strong enough to maintain such a technique, nor did he have any recent practice with it, but he supposed it was at least worth a shot.
It would be a problem if the meeting dragged on--which was quite likely to happen, considering how many years of catching up there was to be done.
Yes.
He decided to give it a try, pulling on the Windlight again. Not making a demand. Asking gently for its assistance.
It responded eagerly, and he merged it with the force of his mind to establish an aerial bubble around himself. That was the first step. Next was to focus on its outer layer--a kind of psychic film--so that he could empower it with his soul.
And finally, he needed to let the Windlight fill in the rest of the space. An invisible balloon, of sorts, growing to be about as large as the room itself. As long as Nerovoy stayed within it, the reaper would theoretically stop regressing.
But it was still primitive. Others might be able to sense its presence when they passed through it. Adding an aspect of stealth to it was probably still beyond him, at this point. Making such an attempt would be a needless risk to its structural integrity when he could instead merely tell the others that he was practicing a new technique.
And that wouldn't even be a lie.
Perfect.
Now he just had to get comfortable and finish waiting.
At length, however, he was beginning to grow impatient. Those two jackasses were certainly taking their sweet time, weren't they? Eyeing his watch, he realized that it was nearly the agreed upon hour.
Why did they never bother to arrive even a little bit early? One would think that they would have eventually learned from his example after all these years.
But then again, he supposed their predictability was also a big part of what he liked about them. It certainly made his life--
A disturbance in his domain.
Germal looked around but didn't see anyone other than Nerovoy.
Wednesday, January 7, 2026
Page 4020
“In any event,” Ettol went on, “we’re about to meet with Parson and Damian again.”
The reaper’s petals tilted. ‘Already? We just met a couple months ago. What need would there be to make contact again so soon?’
Ettol’s jaw clenched. He had no choice here. “No,” he said with an added layer of psychic force. “It has been several years since our last meeting. This is important. Remember?”
Nerovoy remained perfectly still for a moment. ‘Yes. Several years. Of course.’
There was always going to be a risk of the reaper saying something strange or nonsensical in front of the others. It had already happened before. Ettol wanted to have more caution this time, but truthfully, there was only so much that could be done. Reapers and their old relationships always provided a difficult wrinkle in these sorts of strategies. There was an ever-present threat that Feromas or Overra would notice that something was too strange with Nerovoy’s behavior.
Ettol had certainly done his best, though. He’d spent considerable time in pan-wzrost in the lead up to this meeting, just combing over the reaper’s memories of the relationship between the three of them.
It helped that they weren’t nearly as old as some reapers. If they’d all known each other for several thousands of years, then any attempt at deception here probably would have failed already.
And they might be more knowledgeable of him and his brethren, as well.
It was a rare thing to find a truly old reaper who either didn’t know of them or hadn’t already had their memories adjusted.
Unless, of course, if one were to visit some of those enclaves. There were plenty of long-sheltered reaper souls in those places.
Here and now, though, he still needed to refine the reaper’s sense of the present. There was quite obviously a problem of lost time at play, so he should focus on stamping that out--or at least making it not so obvious.
“We have been traveling these past few years,” said Ettol, again with force. “Keeping updated on the state of the world.”
‘Yes,’ said Nerovoy. ‘We love to travel. And our work is important.’
“That’s right. We’re envoys and liaisons. We’ve just about had a breakthrough, haven’t we? Towards the greater goal.”
‘Yes. We’ve been working for so long on that.’
“Soon, we’ll be able to start our own sect within Abolish.”
‘It will be glorious.’
“And we will use it well.”
The reaper’s petals tilted. ‘Already? We just met a couple months ago. What need would there be to make contact again so soon?’
Ettol’s jaw clenched. He had no choice here. “No,” he said with an added layer of psychic force. “It has been several years since our last meeting. This is important. Remember?”
Nerovoy remained perfectly still for a moment. ‘Yes. Several years. Of course.’
There was always going to be a risk of the reaper saying something strange or nonsensical in front of the others. It had already happened before. Ettol wanted to have more caution this time, but truthfully, there was only so much that could be done. Reapers and their old relationships always provided a difficult wrinkle in these sorts of strategies. There was an ever-present threat that Feromas or Overra would notice that something was too strange with Nerovoy’s behavior.
Ettol had certainly done his best, though. He’d spent considerable time in pan-wzrost in the lead up to this meeting, just combing over the reaper’s memories of the relationship between the three of them.
It helped that they weren’t nearly as old as some reapers. If they’d all known each other for several thousands of years, then any attempt at deception here probably would have failed already.
And they might be more knowledgeable of him and his brethren, as well.
It was a rare thing to find a truly old reaper who either didn’t know of them or hadn’t already had their memories adjusted.
Unless, of course, if one were to visit some of those enclaves. There were plenty of long-sheltered reaper souls in those places.
Here and now, though, he still needed to refine the reaper’s sense of the present. There was quite obviously a problem of lost time at play, so he should focus on stamping that out--or at least making it not so obvious.
“We have been traveling these past few years,” said Ettol, again with force. “Keeping updated on the state of the world.”
‘Yes,’ said Nerovoy. ‘We love to travel. And our work is important.’
“That’s right. We’re envoys and liaisons. We’ve just about had a breakthrough, haven’t we? Towards the greater goal.”
‘Yes. We’ve been working for so long on that.’
“Soon, we’ll be able to start our own sect within Abolish.”
‘It will be glorious.’
“And we will use it well.”
Tuesday, January 6, 2026
Page 4019
Ettol snapped control back. “Ah. Sorry. Just another joke that didn’t land. I didn’t mean anything bad by it.”
‘Heh. You do love those, don’t you? When will you learn that you’re not a comedian?’
“I’ve still got time to improve, don’t I?”
‘I never should have let you attend that experimental comedy festival ten years ago. This is never going to end now, is it?’
It was actually more like twenty years ago, but Ettol wasn’t about to correct him. He merely returned a smile as he silently reassessed the reaper’s condition.
No obvious cracks in the lamina of the soul. No leakage. Good. But what about the inner structure?
That was more difficult to examine without alerting the reaper, but Ettol had been growing more powerful. Perhaps it was okay to push a little harder this time. And if he was ever going to repair the reaper fully, this would need to become trivial for him.
The reaper was talking again, but Ettol was hardly listening.
He knew what he was looking for, at least. The filament. The thin, unreal wire on which hung the nucleus--or the mind, in other words--of a reaper’s soul.
The problem was that the filament was so small and evasive. Unlike the filament of a light bulb, for example, this one could move and even hide when it sensed an observer. They always seemed to dislike being noticed, and it was the main reason why many reapers became abruptly nervous in the presence of people such as himself.
And unfortunately, today was still not an exception.
‘You’re doing it again,’ said Nerovoy. ‘Stop that.’
Naturally, unlike the average reaper, this one had plenty of experience dealing with him and so already knew precisely where this “inexplicable anxiety” was coming from.
“Sorry,” said Ettol, easing back from his psychic plunge. For a moment, he considering trying to explain, in the hope that the reaper might understand that he was only trying to perform what was akin to a medical examination on him. But he decided against it. Down that road lay too many impossible questions.
And questions from his mortal loved ones were often how things started to go awry. With the benefit of hindsight, looking back on all his incarnations, that was typically where things began to spiral out of control.
More than anything, he didn’t want that to happen again. Not this time.
‘Heh. You do love those, don’t you? When will you learn that you’re not a comedian?’
“I’ve still got time to improve, don’t I?”
‘I never should have let you attend that experimental comedy festival ten years ago. This is never going to end now, is it?’
It was actually more like twenty years ago, but Ettol wasn’t about to correct him. He merely returned a smile as he silently reassessed the reaper’s condition.
No obvious cracks in the lamina of the soul. No leakage. Good. But what about the inner structure?
That was more difficult to examine without alerting the reaper, but Ettol had been growing more powerful. Perhaps it was okay to push a little harder this time. And if he was ever going to repair the reaper fully, this would need to become trivial for him.
The reaper was talking again, but Ettol was hardly listening.
He knew what he was looking for, at least. The filament. The thin, unreal wire on which hung the nucleus--or the mind, in other words--of a reaper’s soul.
The problem was that the filament was so small and evasive. Unlike the filament of a light bulb, for example, this one could move and even hide when it sensed an observer. They always seemed to dislike being noticed, and it was the main reason why many reapers became abruptly nervous in the presence of people such as himself.
And unfortunately, today was still not an exception.
‘You’re doing it again,’ said Nerovoy. ‘Stop that.’
Naturally, unlike the average reaper, this one had plenty of experience dealing with him and so already knew precisely where this “inexplicable anxiety” was coming from.
“Sorry,” said Ettol, easing back from his psychic plunge. For a moment, he considering trying to explain, in the hope that the reaper might understand that he was only trying to perform what was akin to a medical examination on him. But he decided against it. Down that road lay too many impossible questions.
And questions from his mortal loved ones were often how things started to go awry. With the benefit of hindsight, looking back on all his incarnations, that was typically where things began to spiral out of control.
More than anything, he didn’t want that to happen again. Not this time.
Monday, January 5, 2026
Page 4018
He didn’t need much for this. Just a taste. The temptation to imbibe more was always present, but he controlled himself, of course. Those who didn’t respect their Light were not long in keeping it.
Ah. There. A glimpse of home. A window into the Realm of the Living Wind.
Gorgeous, as ever. He spotted a few of the Cloudkeeps, gently spinning as their long, verdant banners billowed from atop their white, fluffy islands.
He hadn’t been back there in so long. Or at least, it felt that way. Getting stuck in a prison realm for countless years certainly hadn’t helped. Whenever he did eventually return, it was debatable as to whether anyone there will have noticed.
Which was preferable, actually. With any luck, the master of the realm won’t have woken up yet. He didn’t need another lecture.
But that was neither here nor there.
Nerovoy’s condition was what he focused his energy into. A small push was enough to invigorate the reaper, make him whole and normal again.
Well. For the most part.
The amorphous shape briefly became a perfect orb, glowing in that familiar and ethereal way, before finally returning to the shape of all reapers.
To Ettol’s eyes, Nerovoy was now a humble flower. Green stem, black-and-white petals, and a smoldering stamen in the center.
‘Ah,’ came the reaper’s groggy voice. ‘Germal. There you are. I was having the strangest dream.’
“A pleasant one, I hope?” said Germal.
‘Heh. I’ll describe it, and then you can tell me what you think. I was on a beach, overlooking the ocean. There was a beautiful sunset across the horizon. I felt so at peace. And yet, at the same time, I could see a great tide coming in. Slow as molasses. I stared and stared, but it hardly seemed to move. And despite how comfortable I was, I somehow couldn’t dissuade myself of the notion that the tide I saw was a terrible omen. An inevitable doom, of sorts.’
Germal made no response. He merely let the reaper loose from his grip, allowing the little flower to float there in front of him.
‘So?’ said Nerovoy. ‘Go on. What does it mean? You were always good at deciphering dreams, weren’t you?’
Germal wanted to say something, but his neck and mouth twitched, trying to wrestle away from him.
Jonah. Stop this, already.
“Doom is exactly right, Nerovoy. You’re doomed, and I’m the cause.”
Bastard.
‘What? What do you mean?’
Ah. There. A glimpse of home. A window into the Realm of the Living Wind.
Gorgeous, as ever. He spotted a few of the Cloudkeeps, gently spinning as their long, verdant banners billowed from atop their white, fluffy islands.
He hadn’t been back there in so long. Or at least, it felt that way. Getting stuck in a prison realm for countless years certainly hadn’t helped. Whenever he did eventually return, it was debatable as to whether anyone there will have noticed.
Which was preferable, actually. With any luck, the master of the realm won’t have woken up yet. He didn’t need another lecture.
But that was neither here nor there.
Nerovoy’s condition was what he focused his energy into. A small push was enough to invigorate the reaper, make him whole and normal again.
Well. For the most part.
The amorphous shape briefly became a perfect orb, glowing in that familiar and ethereal way, before finally returning to the shape of all reapers.
To Ettol’s eyes, Nerovoy was now a humble flower. Green stem, black-and-white petals, and a smoldering stamen in the center.
‘Ah,’ came the reaper’s groggy voice. ‘Germal. There you are. I was having the strangest dream.’
“A pleasant one, I hope?” said Germal.
‘Heh. I’ll describe it, and then you can tell me what you think. I was on a beach, overlooking the ocean. There was a beautiful sunset across the horizon. I felt so at peace. And yet, at the same time, I could see a great tide coming in. Slow as molasses. I stared and stared, but it hardly seemed to move. And despite how comfortable I was, I somehow couldn’t dissuade myself of the notion that the tide I saw was a terrible omen. An inevitable doom, of sorts.’
Germal made no response. He merely let the reaper loose from his grip, allowing the little flower to float there in front of him.
‘So?’ said Nerovoy. ‘Go on. What does it mean? You were always good at deciphering dreams, weren’t you?’
Germal wanted to say something, but his neck and mouth twitched, trying to wrestle away from him.
Jonah. Stop this, already.
“Doom is exactly right, Nerovoy. You’re doomed, and I’m the cause.”
Bastard.
‘What? What do you mean?’
Sunday, January 4, 2026
Page 4017
It was nonsense, though. The constant push to see patterns where none existed. He and all his kin each had their own reasons for coming here. And it wasn’t because they were secretly mortal or “craved” its miserable touch.
Rather, it was simply because this was where land and sea met.
At length, Germal returned to the little castle’s main chamber and took a seat by the western wall. This place, too, harbored plenty of memories for him to fall back into, but he’d already indulged enough, he felt.
He needed to prep for his friends’ arrivals.
Maybe one day, he would be able to tell them the full truth of things. Of his unique nature and history. He certainly wanted to bring them in.
But it was still too soon. He didn’t want to risk them not understanding.
Yes. Better to keep up the illusion for a while longer.
He reached into his coat and pulled out the dormant blob of ethereal energy.
Nerovoy. Germal’s reaper.
Or Jonah’s, rather.
Doubtless, this had a great deal to do with why Jonah refused to see reason.
Nerovoy’s decline into this state was not something that Jonah was going to forgive or forget any time soon.
Reapers were always an issue when it came to reincarnating. They didn’t always decline in exactly this way--nor had it always been this gradual--but there was always something that went wrong with them. Despite his many attempts to remedy the problem across multiple incarnations, Ettol had never found a solution.
He didn’t want to resign himself to the idea that this was wholly unavoidable--that the merge simply could not be conducted without harming the reaper--but after all the Ages, it was difficult to deny that might well be so.
More lies, of course. He’d known this was going to happen all along and never warned Germal about it. Oh, but he’d ‘merged with full understanding,’ right? Sure he did.
Never the bad guy. Always well-meaning, at the very least.
How hard you work to convince everyone of that story. Even yourself.
You lying monster.
You can’t deceive me. I see right through you, and I always will.
Germal pushed Jonah back down again. More forcefully, this time. Stay quiet for a while, please.
He returned his attention to Nerovoy. He concentrated, closing his eyes as he searched for the Windlight.
Rather, it was simply because this was where land and sea met.
At length, Germal returned to the little castle’s main chamber and took a seat by the western wall. This place, too, harbored plenty of memories for him to fall back into, but he’d already indulged enough, he felt.
He needed to prep for his friends’ arrivals.
Maybe one day, he would be able to tell them the full truth of things. Of his unique nature and history. He certainly wanted to bring them in.
But it was still too soon. He didn’t want to risk them not understanding.
Yes. Better to keep up the illusion for a while longer.
He reached into his coat and pulled out the dormant blob of ethereal energy.
Nerovoy. Germal’s reaper.
Or Jonah’s, rather.
Doubtless, this had a great deal to do with why Jonah refused to see reason.
Nerovoy’s decline into this state was not something that Jonah was going to forgive or forget any time soon.
Reapers were always an issue when it came to reincarnating. They didn’t always decline in exactly this way--nor had it always been this gradual--but there was always something that went wrong with them. Despite his many attempts to remedy the problem across multiple incarnations, Ettol had never found a solution.
He didn’t want to resign himself to the idea that this was wholly unavoidable--that the merge simply could not be conducted without harming the reaper--but after all the Ages, it was difficult to deny that might well be so.
More lies, of course. He’d known this was going to happen all along and never warned Germal about it. Oh, but he’d ‘merged with full understanding,’ right? Sure he did.
Never the bad guy. Always well-meaning, at the very least.
How hard you work to convince everyone of that story. Even yourself.
You lying monster.
You can’t deceive me. I see right through you, and I always will.
Germal pushed Jonah back down again. More forcefully, this time. Stay quiet for a while, please.
He returned his attention to Nerovoy. He concentrated, closing his eyes as he searched for the Windlight.
Thursday, January 1, 2026
Page 4016
Hmph. Never forgotten, had you? Perhaps if Arnel had become a vessel, you would have. After all, how was he any different from Hada? Eating people alive. Taking pleasure in the suffering of others. Why did Hada get a pass from you but not Arnel?
Hada did not “get a pass,” Jonah. But there was only so much that could be done to him as a form of retribution or punishment.
Bullshit. You’ve always been too soft on him. Even moreso than the others.
Jonah. Hada might very well be the most powerful among us. Sure, we could trick him in any number of ways, imprison and annoy him, but in the end, what more could be done? If you know of some way in which we could kill him, then speak it now.
Work with the emperors instead of against them. Together, you might see it done.
You make it sound so simple...
And you make everything sound complicated.
Ettol couldn’t stop a sigh from passing his lips. The illusory tower on fire dissipated into nothing, taking the imagined nighttime along with it and allowing daylight to return.
He wanted to keep arguing, but he could already feel Jonah’s will falling into the recesses of their mind again. And it was a conversation they’d already had, of course. No doubt, that was why Jonah was receding into the background: because he knew they’d arrived at their typical impasse.
How did Jonah become so stubborn? He used to be so gentle and kind. So understanding. Even towards Ettol.
It was the Supreme Will, wasn’t it? As much as he wanted for it not to be true, Ettol was finding it increasingly difficult to remain in denial. At some point, Jonah must have developed it.
But when? Ettol searched his memories. It had only been about forty years since Bellvine, so if he compared Jonah now to then... and reexamined everything that had transpired since...
What could have prompted the Supreme Will to be born in him?
That was yet another of their ancient opponents. But of course, the Supreme Will was also a special case, wasn’t it? Because in many ways, it served as an ally to his kin. They typically needed it for their vessels. It fortified the vessels’ souls and minds, allowing them to withstand the unreal fires of rebirth, which otherwise could only occur within the infinite realms of non-existence.
But it was a double-edged blade, the Will. Because it also resisted their efforts. Emboldened their enemies. And whispered to them, constantly, that they were not gods.
That the reason they were so endlessly attracted to this mortal realm was because, ultimately, they too belonged here.
Hada did not “get a pass,” Jonah. But there was only so much that could be done to him as a form of retribution or punishment.
Bullshit. You’ve always been too soft on him. Even moreso than the others.
Jonah. Hada might very well be the most powerful among us. Sure, we could trick him in any number of ways, imprison and annoy him, but in the end, what more could be done? If you know of some way in which we could kill him, then speak it now.
Work with the emperors instead of against them. Together, you might see it done.
You make it sound so simple...
And you make everything sound complicated.
Ettol couldn’t stop a sigh from passing his lips. The illusory tower on fire dissipated into nothing, taking the imagined nighttime along with it and allowing daylight to return.
He wanted to keep arguing, but he could already feel Jonah’s will falling into the recesses of their mind again. And it was a conversation they’d already had, of course. No doubt, that was why Jonah was receding into the background: because he knew they’d arrived at their typical impasse.
How did Jonah become so stubborn? He used to be so gentle and kind. So understanding. Even towards Ettol.
It was the Supreme Will, wasn’t it? As much as he wanted for it not to be true, Ettol was finding it increasingly difficult to remain in denial. At some point, Jonah must have developed it.
But when? Ettol searched his memories. It had only been about forty years since Bellvine, so if he compared Jonah now to then... and reexamined everything that had transpired since...
What could have prompted the Supreme Will to be born in him?
That was yet another of their ancient opponents. But of course, the Supreme Will was also a special case, wasn’t it? Because in many ways, it served as an ally to his kin. They typically needed it for their vessels. It fortified the vessels’ souls and minds, allowing them to withstand the unreal fires of rebirth, which otherwise could only occur within the infinite realms of non-existence.
But it was a double-edged blade, the Will. Because it also resisted their efforts. Emboldened their enemies. And whispered to them, constantly, that they were not gods.
That the reason they were so endlessly attracted to this mortal realm was because, ultimately, they too belonged here.
Wednesday, December 31, 2025
Page 4015
When he finally reached his destination, there was still plenty of time remaining. He decided to do a sweep around the small fort, more out of boredom than necessity. There was no reason to think that this location was in any way compromised--which was why he liked it so much--but it never hurt to be thorough.
Plus, it made for a nice trip down memory lane.
This was where that insufferable nest of parasites had once ruled, after all. Out of every nest to have been established over the Ages, that one had to have been his most hated.
And Ettol was only too pleased to have played a part in its destruction.
Sure, Rakko ended up with all the credit--or the blame, as the man had chosen to play it off--but Ettol had been living here for decades, sowing the seeds of its eventual demise.
It was a shame that the whole city had to go along with it, but that was probably for the best, too. Those parasites were crafty. If he and Rakko had been any less thorough, then the nest likely would have survived and recovered.
And the revenge would have been absolutely horrific. The parasites did not suffer attacks against them lightly. Not in those days, anyway. They always took disproportionate retribution against their enemies.
Even a few of his own incarnations had been ended by them. Which was to say nothing of the collateral damage done around him.
Ah. That spot over there. The Grand Tower of Karnith had once stood there, yes?
Ettol smiled to himself as he summoned an illusory vision of it into reality. A tall, pale thing, covered in protruding balconies and hanging banners. And his smile only widened as he summoned the image of it on fire and crumbling under the moonlight.
Beautiful.
The long-standing dungeon of Arnel the Terror. How many heads of state visited that place without ever realizing the monstrous acts being committed within it?
And how many did realize?
Arnel was sick beyond words. The man had taken immense pleasure in his secrets--but even more in surprising people with them. The inner circle that he fostered for himself was unlike any other that Ettol had witnessed before.
But in retrospect, perhaps it had been a good experience for him in those relatively early days. It gave him his first real glimpse at the depths to which these mortals could sink when they were granted too much power.
It was certainly a lesson he’d never forgotten.
Plus, it made for a nice trip down memory lane.
This was where that insufferable nest of parasites had once ruled, after all. Out of every nest to have been established over the Ages, that one had to have been his most hated.
And Ettol was only too pleased to have played a part in its destruction.
Sure, Rakko ended up with all the credit--or the blame, as the man had chosen to play it off--but Ettol had been living here for decades, sowing the seeds of its eventual demise.
It was a shame that the whole city had to go along with it, but that was probably for the best, too. Those parasites were crafty. If he and Rakko had been any less thorough, then the nest likely would have survived and recovered.
And the revenge would have been absolutely horrific. The parasites did not suffer attacks against them lightly. Not in those days, anyway. They always took disproportionate retribution against their enemies.
Even a few of his own incarnations had been ended by them. Which was to say nothing of the collateral damage done around him.
Ah. That spot over there. The Grand Tower of Karnith had once stood there, yes?
Ettol smiled to himself as he summoned an illusory vision of it into reality. A tall, pale thing, covered in protruding balconies and hanging banners. And his smile only widened as he summoned the image of it on fire and crumbling under the moonlight.
Beautiful.
The long-standing dungeon of Arnel the Terror. How many heads of state visited that place without ever realizing the monstrous acts being committed within it?
And how many did realize?
Arnel was sick beyond words. The man had taken immense pleasure in his secrets--but even more in surprising people with them. The inner circle that he fostered for himself was unlike any other that Ettol had witnessed before.
But in retrospect, perhaps it had been a good experience for him in those relatively early days. It gave him his first real glimpse at the depths to which these mortals could sink when they were granted too much power.
It was certainly a lesson he’d never forgotten.
Tuesday, December 30, 2025
Page 4014
It was a dangerous game, this. Ettol knew that only too well. Jonah, for all his obnoxious rhetoric, had not been wrong about that.
The Beast of Ardora would almost certainly break loose again, one day. Comfortable as this current arrangement might have been, Ettol couldn’t expect it to last forever. He had to plan for the eventuality of Koh’s release.
But the wolf’s programming was so strong. So deeply ingrained. Ettol hoped that he might be able to overwrite it fully, but even now, in a vessel this powerful, he was not yet strong enough. Maybe he never would be.
Could he eventually amass enough strength to rewrite or otherwise undo the brainwashing of the nameless one? The so-called Void?
Their supposed progenitor?
In eons past, Ettol would have said no. It was hopeless. Their “father” was simply too powerful.
But they’d wounded him, hadn’t they? Lastingly so. All the evidence seemed to point to that explanation.
Ettol’s mind often wandered back to when, exactly, it might have happened. He must not have been present for it, himself. Surely, such an encounter would have been exceptionally vivid in his memory.
So who had done it?
Hada? Or perhaps Avar? Ettol had asked them, of course, but neither had been particularly forthcoming. One might imagine that anyone would be eager to talk about such an accomplishment, but those two were their own brands of exceptional, weren’t they? Hada hated talking period--especially to Ettol. And Avar would probably feel some type of absurd shame.
Out of all of them, Avar revered the nameless one the most as their “father.”
Ettol, though, could never do that. Not genuinely, at least.
He had spent too long bending to the will of others. Making nice. Pretending to be something he wasn’t.
In his heart, he could not allow himself to revere anyone over himself. His kin could only ever be his equals. Less than that, perhaps, but not more.
No. Never that.
For the longest time, he’d thought that all the others shared that view. He’d thought that was why they had such trouble getting along. But gradually, he’d come to realize that, no, they weren’t like him in that regard.
His mindset was, in so many ways, actually quite singular. They were not all some cherished communion of like-minded souls, as he’d once believed.
But that was fine. They were his kin. They were entitled to their flaws. Just as he was entitled to his.
The Beast of Ardora would almost certainly break loose again, one day. Comfortable as this current arrangement might have been, Ettol couldn’t expect it to last forever. He had to plan for the eventuality of Koh’s release.
But the wolf’s programming was so strong. So deeply ingrained. Ettol hoped that he might be able to overwrite it fully, but even now, in a vessel this powerful, he was not yet strong enough. Maybe he never would be.
Could he eventually amass enough strength to rewrite or otherwise undo the brainwashing of the nameless one? The so-called Void?
Their supposed progenitor?
In eons past, Ettol would have said no. It was hopeless. Their “father” was simply too powerful.
But they’d wounded him, hadn’t they? Lastingly so. All the evidence seemed to point to that explanation.
Ettol’s mind often wandered back to when, exactly, it might have happened. He must not have been present for it, himself. Surely, such an encounter would have been exceptionally vivid in his memory.
So who had done it?
Hada? Or perhaps Avar? Ettol had asked them, of course, but neither had been particularly forthcoming. One might imagine that anyone would be eager to talk about such an accomplishment, but those two were their own brands of exceptional, weren’t they? Hada hated talking period--especially to Ettol. And Avar would probably feel some type of absurd shame.
Out of all of them, Avar revered the nameless one the most as their “father.”
Ettol, though, could never do that. Not genuinely, at least.
He had spent too long bending to the will of others. Making nice. Pretending to be something he wasn’t.
In his heart, he could not allow himself to revere anyone over himself. His kin could only ever be his equals. Less than that, perhaps, but not more.
No. Never that.
For the longest time, he’d thought that all the others shared that view. He’d thought that was why they had such trouble getting along. But gradually, he’d come to realize that, no, they weren’t like him in that regard.
His mindset was, in so many ways, actually quite singular. They were not all some cherished communion of like-minded souls, as he’d once believed.
But that was fine. They were his kin. They were entitled to their flaws. Just as he was entitled to his.
Sunday, December 28, 2025
Page 4013
Jonah was determined to fight him. That much was painfully obvious. No matter what arguments Germal tried, no matter how much knowledge he shared--how much wisdom--Jonah just became more and more convinced that “Ettol” had fully consumed his soul.
Why? It was so senseless. Was it because he hadn’t internalized a new name for himself like his kin often did? Didn’t become reborn as a new “Gerttal” or “Emol” or some other hybrid?
That meant nothing. Ettol’s vessels simply never needed that, nor did Ettol himself. His vessels always had some kind of irregularity in their identity which made such a process pointless.
Jonah couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that Germal genuinely, with full understanding, agreed to the merging of their two souls. There was no need for a new name, because their new, singular soul was perfectly comfortable with both. Ettol, Germal. He didn’t mind swapping between them.
In fact, he enjoyed it. Did it for fun, if he was being honest.
Germal had always been like that. Didn’t Jonah remember? The games they played when they were children? Even the name Germal had not been original. It was the name they found in an old book.
The name of the hero that Jonah had fantasized about one day becoming.
Had all that been forgotten? Or maybe Jonah thought that, too, was a lie. An implanted memory, meant to trick him. Yet another of Ettol’s endless deceptions.
Ever that excuse.
Ettol didn’t know how to argue against that. How could he possibly reason with someone who’d become so entrenched in their distrust of him?
Agh. Was there truly no way? He was this so-called ‘God of Deceit,’ wasn’t he? And yet he couldn’t even deceive the stray voice in his head.
Hmph. Prodding him again, Jonah? At least you were getting subtler about it.
By the time he finally reached the little fortress atop the highest hill, it was nearing sunset. He could’ve moved faster, of course, but there was no rush. He’d have to wait for the others to arrive, regardless.
Koh followed behind him, silent as a shadow, if not for the occasional puff on his cigar.
It was interesting how much of a liking the old fellow had taken to tobacco. Germal hadn’t expected that experiment to work at all, much less that effectively. Perhaps the wolf’s mind was more malleable than he’d realized. Or perhaps his powers had grown.
Or perhaps Koh just would’ve liked cigars, regardless.
Why? It was so senseless. Was it because he hadn’t internalized a new name for himself like his kin often did? Didn’t become reborn as a new “Gerttal” or “Emol” or some other hybrid?
That meant nothing. Ettol’s vessels simply never needed that, nor did Ettol himself. His vessels always had some kind of irregularity in their identity which made such a process pointless.
Jonah couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that Germal genuinely, with full understanding, agreed to the merging of their two souls. There was no need for a new name, because their new, singular soul was perfectly comfortable with both. Ettol, Germal. He didn’t mind swapping between them.
In fact, he enjoyed it. Did it for fun, if he was being honest.
Germal had always been like that. Didn’t Jonah remember? The games they played when they were children? Even the name Germal had not been original. It was the name they found in an old book.
The name of the hero that Jonah had fantasized about one day becoming.
Had all that been forgotten? Or maybe Jonah thought that, too, was a lie. An implanted memory, meant to trick him. Yet another of Ettol’s endless deceptions.
Ever that excuse.
Ettol didn’t know how to argue against that. How could he possibly reason with someone who’d become so entrenched in their distrust of him?
Agh. Was there truly no way? He was this so-called ‘God of Deceit,’ wasn’t he? And yet he couldn’t even deceive the stray voice in his head.
Hmph. Prodding him again, Jonah? At least you were getting subtler about it.
By the time he finally reached the little fortress atop the highest hill, it was nearing sunset. He could’ve moved faster, of course, but there was no rush. He’d have to wait for the others to arrive, regardless.
Koh followed behind him, silent as a shadow, if not for the occasional puff on his cigar.
It was interesting how much of a liking the old fellow had taken to tobacco. Germal hadn’t expected that experiment to work at all, much less that effectively. Perhaps the wolf’s mind was more malleable than he’d realized. Or perhaps his powers had grown.
Or perhaps Koh just would’ve liked cigars, regardless.
Saturday, December 27, 2025
Page 4012
Throwing around accusations of childishness? Was that the new strategy? Ironic in the extreme.
It was already quite clear by now that there could be no peace between the two of them. Jonah had long convinced himself that Ettol was the great enemy--not just of himself but of all mankind. The entire mortal realm.
But it was nonsense, of course. Ettol wanted nothing more than to help the long-suffering souls of this world. And Reemergence was key to achieve that goal. Whether his “kin” returned his affections or not was irrelevant. That was simply how all families were. Especially ones as old as his.
If you could finally look past your own biases, then you might understand that, too, Jonah. Ultimately, despite all the turmoil that they had endured over the years, Ettol wanted a good life for you, as well. Just because they shared a body didn’t preclude that possibility, you know. Think about it. Why else would he ever give up control to you at all? Why would he allow you to pursue a family? Have children of your own? Enjoy fine foods and the natural, wondrous beauty of the world? Fight against the oppressive monsters of Abolish in your own secretive ways?
To continue feeding information to Parson and Damian?
What, you thought he didn’t know about that? Of course he did. And it was a noble goal. One worth continuing. In that, clearly, they were of one mind.
Look past your hatred, Jonah. See the truth for what it was. Even if you hated him, Ettol was on your side, too.
The wind howled across the grassy hills as his mind fell quiet again.
He stopped for a moment, awaiting another angry response. When one didn’t arrive, he kept walking.
Tiresome. He hated having to suppress Jonah like that, but it could hardly be helped, these days.
There’d been a time when he’d hoped that the two of them could fully accept one another. To integrate, even. Become whole.
But that was long gone. Now, he wasn’t even sure that they could coexist for much longer. Jonah’s rejection of him had only further ossified over the years.
He’d tried everything. Using different names. Giving Jonah more control. More freedom. Even letting him partake more deeply of the Windlight. To see the vast stores of knowledge that he had accumulated across all of his incarnations.
But it only ever made things worse.
It was already quite clear by now that there could be no peace between the two of them. Jonah had long convinced himself that Ettol was the great enemy--not just of himself but of all mankind. The entire mortal realm.
But it was nonsense, of course. Ettol wanted nothing more than to help the long-suffering souls of this world. And Reemergence was key to achieve that goal. Whether his “kin” returned his affections or not was irrelevant. That was simply how all families were. Especially ones as old as his.
If you could finally look past your own biases, then you might understand that, too, Jonah. Ultimately, despite all the turmoil that they had endured over the years, Ettol wanted a good life for you, as well. Just because they shared a body didn’t preclude that possibility, you know. Think about it. Why else would he ever give up control to you at all? Why would he allow you to pursue a family? Have children of your own? Enjoy fine foods and the natural, wondrous beauty of the world? Fight against the oppressive monsters of Abolish in your own secretive ways?
To continue feeding information to Parson and Damian?
What, you thought he didn’t know about that? Of course he did. And it was a noble goal. One worth continuing. In that, clearly, they were of one mind.
Look past your hatred, Jonah. See the truth for what it was. Even if you hated him, Ettol was on your side, too.
The wind howled across the grassy hills as his mind fell quiet again.
He stopped for a moment, awaiting another angry response. When one didn’t arrive, he kept walking.
Tiresome. He hated having to suppress Jonah like that, but it could hardly be helped, these days.
There’d been a time when he’d hoped that the two of them could fully accept one another. To integrate, even. Become whole.
But that was long gone. Now, he wasn’t even sure that they could coexist for much longer. Jonah’s rejection of him had only further ossified over the years.
He’d tried everything. Using different names. Giving Jonah more control. More freedom. Even letting him partake more deeply of the Windlight. To see the vast stores of knowledge that he had accumulated across all of his incarnations.
But it only ever made things worse.
Tuesday, December 23, 2025
Page 4011
Jonah was fascinated to no end by the Beast of Ardora. The ultimate enemy of all these false gods. Did that make the wolf a true god? Kehe. No. Jonah didn’t think so. Moreover, Koh would probably despise the very notion.
Strange to think that Koh and Ettol had both arrived in his life at the same time, due to the same event. Some forty-five years ago in Bellvine.
Though, perhaps there was some contention about that, too. With the benefit of hindsight, Jonah could now see whispers of Ettol’s influence from even before that time--from when it had been attempting to make contact with him.
Reaching out from beyond the Veil.
In so many subtle, quiet ways, Ettol had been there, probably since the very moment his and Germal’s power of mutation manifested. And even then, it had still taken Ettol another eighty years before it finally managed to connect to them.
Jonah understood why. For Ettol, suitable vessels were preciously rare. Throughout the entire world, there were only a handful of viable candidates at any given time; and since the incarnation process took so long, the difficulty was heightened even further, as suitable vessels expired naturally on their own. Or simply refused the offer. Or suddenly became unsuitable.
Kehe. Poor Ettol. Always wrestling with the world. With its own kin, even. It loved them all dearly, but they did not reciprocate those feelings, did they? Perhaps because it was such an incessantly lying snake.
Not that Jonah had much room to judge, of course. In that way, at least, they were alike. Hell, perhaps that was even a prerequisite for becoming a suitable vessel.
But still. It was no coincidence that Ettol had ended up trapped in that prison realm alongside Koh. That had been the work of Ettol’s own kin. At the last moment, they had betrayed it.
Thrown it to the wolf, quite literally.
And yet, Ettol did not hold that against them? Where was the sense in that? Where was your pride, Ettol?
Why continue on with this plan of Reemergence?
That was, perhaps, the single most baffling thing about Ettol, still. The thing that Jonah was struggling to find an answer for.
Because perhaps there simply wasn’t one. Perhaps Ettol didn’t have a good reason for continuing on, in spite of all the hatred and betrayal. The unreturned love and affection.
Perhaps, ultimately, Ettol was just a pathetic, crying child who was scared of being alone.
Enough, Jonah.
Strange to think that Koh and Ettol had both arrived in his life at the same time, due to the same event. Some forty-five years ago in Bellvine.
Though, perhaps there was some contention about that, too. With the benefit of hindsight, Jonah could now see whispers of Ettol’s influence from even before that time--from when it had been attempting to make contact with him.
Reaching out from beyond the Veil.
In so many subtle, quiet ways, Ettol had been there, probably since the very moment his and Germal’s power of mutation manifested. And even then, it had still taken Ettol another eighty years before it finally managed to connect to them.
Jonah understood why. For Ettol, suitable vessels were preciously rare. Throughout the entire world, there were only a handful of viable candidates at any given time; and since the incarnation process took so long, the difficulty was heightened even further, as suitable vessels expired naturally on their own. Or simply refused the offer. Or suddenly became unsuitable.
Kehe. Poor Ettol. Always wrestling with the world. With its own kin, even. It loved them all dearly, but they did not reciprocate those feelings, did they? Perhaps because it was such an incessantly lying snake.
Not that Jonah had much room to judge, of course. In that way, at least, they were alike. Hell, perhaps that was even a prerequisite for becoming a suitable vessel.
But still. It was no coincidence that Ettol had ended up trapped in that prison realm alongside Koh. That had been the work of Ettol’s own kin. At the last moment, they had betrayed it.
Thrown it to the wolf, quite literally.
And yet, Ettol did not hold that against them? Where was the sense in that? Where was your pride, Ettol?
Why continue on with this plan of Reemergence?
That was, perhaps, the single most baffling thing about Ettol, still. The thing that Jonah was struggling to find an answer for.
Because perhaps there simply wasn’t one. Perhaps Ettol didn’t have a good reason for continuing on, in spite of all the hatred and betrayal. The unreturned love and affection.
Perhaps, ultimately, Ettol was just a pathetic, crying child who was scared of being alone.
Enough, Jonah.
Monday, December 22, 2025
Page 4010
He was already well over a hundred years old, and yet he still felt like a child in many ways. Sheltered within the confines of his own mind.
He wasn’t a child, though. He had to remember that. It was just more of Ettol’s subtle manipulations. Poking at his subconscious. Trying to prevent him from growing wise to the truth of things.
Jonah had been paying attention. He’d been learning. At first, Ettol had been able to hide all its secrets from him, but there was a clear trade-off that was being made as Ettol gained influence over this body. Awful as it was to accept, Jonah had to take his victories wherever he could get them.
Sharing a body meant sharing a conduit for Ettol’s powers. It meant sharing knowledge. It meant sharing plans.
Those were the things that Ettol was trying its hardest to hide from him. It wanted to keep him in the dark for as long as possible about that.
But Jonah would discover everything, eventually. It was just a matter of time.
The real problem was figuring out what to do with that knowledge once he found it? With Ettol having such control now, what could possibly be done? How could he get any of this knowledge out there?
Ah. Heh.
Kehe.
Why was he asking himself that?
They were playing again, weren’t they? Him and Ettol. Looking for his plans, eh? Well, he didn’t have any.
Kehe.
Worried, was it? Why? What was there to be concerned about? He was powerless, after all. Just a dormant part of the psyche, now.
Relax, Ettol. Stop worrying so much. You won.
Look at Koh over there. Even he had been brought to heel. A truly remarkable feat, that. Jonah understood. He’d seen the memories. The knowledge of antiquity--when countless other “gods” were getting absolutely stomped by the Great Pale Wolf.
It was impressive that they’d managed to subdue him for as long as they did. Smothering him and throwing him into that prison realm.
How hard they’d worked. Schemed for years and years. Organized and collaborated. Forsaken their pride and hatred for one another. All to lay low their most feared enemy.
And yet in the end, he was still here, wasn’t he? Enthralled, sure, but for how much longer, Ettol? How long, hmm?
Compared to that ticking clock, Jonah was nothing at all to be worried about, surely.
He wasn’t a child, though. He had to remember that. It was just more of Ettol’s subtle manipulations. Poking at his subconscious. Trying to prevent him from growing wise to the truth of things.
Jonah had been paying attention. He’d been learning. At first, Ettol had been able to hide all its secrets from him, but there was a clear trade-off that was being made as Ettol gained influence over this body. Awful as it was to accept, Jonah had to take his victories wherever he could get them.
Sharing a body meant sharing a conduit for Ettol’s powers. It meant sharing knowledge. It meant sharing plans.
Those were the things that Ettol was trying its hardest to hide from him. It wanted to keep him in the dark for as long as possible about that.
But Jonah would discover everything, eventually. It was just a matter of time.
The real problem was figuring out what to do with that knowledge once he found it? With Ettol having such control now, what could possibly be done? How could he get any of this knowledge out there?
Ah. Heh.
Kehe.
Why was he asking himself that?
They were playing again, weren’t they? Him and Ettol. Looking for his plans, eh? Well, he didn’t have any.
Kehe.
Worried, was it? Why? What was there to be concerned about? He was powerless, after all. Just a dormant part of the psyche, now.
Relax, Ettol. Stop worrying so much. You won.
Look at Koh over there. Even he had been brought to heel. A truly remarkable feat, that. Jonah understood. He’d seen the memories. The knowledge of antiquity--when countless other “gods” were getting absolutely stomped by the Great Pale Wolf.
It was impressive that they’d managed to subdue him for as long as they did. Smothering him and throwing him into that prison realm.
How hard they’d worked. Schemed for years and years. Organized and collaborated. Forsaken their pride and hatred for one another. All to lay low their most feared enemy.
And yet in the end, he was still here, wasn’t he? Enthralled, sure, but for how much longer, Ettol? How long, hmm?
Compared to that ticking clock, Jonah was nothing at all to be worried about, surely.
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