Chapter V - Brimstone

Completed chapters of the serial storyline are stored here after completion.
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone

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With her lips pursed in concern, Meris rested a reassuring hand on the Architect's shoulder. "You're forgiven, but please don't be too hard on yourself. The Goat wants to place blame on you, but I think it's short-sighted of him to do so. I don't think anybody has a manual of how Creation should be carried out to where it all functions perfectly. As I've said before, perfection is an ideal that can't ever really be reached. Gods, demons, angels, spirits, and mortals? We all make mistakes. It's better to realize that and learn from them than berate ourselves for having made them. The best thing you can do is get up and keep going and trying to do the best that you can," she surmised with a shrug.

Her eyes then fell on the thick tome. "Regardless, show me what else I need to understand, so that I might have the deeper insight to help guide my allies toward the right path."
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone

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The idea of gods making mistakes made the Architect look at Meris with a puzzled look. If impossible geometries and biological constructs could threaten to break mortal minds, then it seemed as though the idea of failure should've been terrifying to the Architect, God and those cohorts they had in common. Indeed, the realization that he'd made a mistake made the already pale figure blanch for a moment. He worked through a pained gasp.

"Yes, forward," he said, as if reassuring himself. "Always go forward. And so now, your progress demands that you retrace your steps," he said, opening the book. 

"Look, Meris. See all that I once offered you to know, wield and master. Return to your source."

What was on the tome's fluttering pages wasn't any sort of traditional script or even art - it was understanding in its purest form, rendered for her senses as a blinding light that seared through her mind. In that instant, any old doubts about Nereus' lessons would vanish, certainty coating her already-absorbed understanding of the Architect's boons like a lacquer; buffing out burrs and smoothing jagged edges, revealing even her husband's most complex lessons to be but a speck of what had been there to grasp. Nereus had only ever played with matter, and Meris' mind would bloom with the joyful, exhilarating notion that light, sound, color or texture could all be composed with as with poetry. Somewhere deep down, her Cantor's knowledge seemed to bloom, rise up to her mind to meet with points of conjunction between it and the Architect's truest, purest craft. Why sing simple things like healing or comfort into being, when you could hum shelter, disperse storms or stop bullets and knives? Slowly coaxing disease away with soothing airs would feel as though she'd spent centuries picking away at a buried statue in the sand, now that she'd realize she could sing entire cures into being - lull molecules together within flesh and blood's confines, coax the tiniest elements together with vibrating tones, and assemble chemical compounds with almost more ease than a lifelong chemist.

Still, all wasn't just purpose and surety, as there was some of the Artisan's beauty and hope to be found, as well. The Archmage would feel her own flesh, back in the waking world, and would briefly feel as though a few hummed airs would be all that would suffice in order to change her pupils to slits, turn her lungs into gills or ferret out the tiniest DNA transcription errors across her own being and kill the tiniest specks of cancer long before via's curative effects would so much as begin to attack and unmake them. She'd sense all those tiny mistakes and those serendipitous strokes of genius in her own genes, all the missteps and ingenious developments that led not only to selkies, but to herself. Life, always so pure, so chaotic, so carefully constructed and thrown about all at once - the mathematical splendor of it all and its carefree disposition would be manifest to her. In that instant, she'd see the Tree, just as Lucian had.

Not the Centennial Tree, not Sophia's distant mother across an entire ocean - but the World Tree. Yggdrasil might have had a physical location in Faerie, but it also existed as this reaching-out of life across the void, stars and worlds and galaxies filling Amaxi's inky blackness with irrepressible light, engineering countless droves of Afterlives and other protective and damning beings that had all Risen and Fallen - not all of them conceivable by Earth or even Paradise's inhabitants, but all of them cousins to the angels and demons. Other worlds in the same Creation, other faces for respite or torment, for hope or wickedness - some achingly familiar, others hauntingly alien in their design. The Architect and Artisan had placed others like her across the stars, and all across the star-filled expanse, other worlds fought for their own existence. Terra's encroaching supernatural planes were but one flavor of peril, as in one instant, Meris would see thousands of scenarios where hope and despair mingled, playing out in more languages and displays than her admittedly biased roots in Linguistics would enable her to understand, more than her very human reasoning abilities would enable her to grasp.

All the same, she wasn't meant to. Even the Augur wasn't meant to understand it all. All the Architect needed was for her to understand enough. If other threats rose from other corners of the universe, she'd know to deal with them in time. For now, Earth was still a little backwater province in the corner of the Milky Way, casting the Others and all Their rage as deeply provincial villains. For all of their power, Heaven's angels were tiny soldier ants on an anthill - even the Thrones themselves. They had other faces, other facets of themselves, other reflections to show to other intellects waiting galactic arms apart.

Someone else could've been driven to despair or madness, after being offered such a terrible power. The Architect, however, had offered it with hope and trust. Meris might have been insignificant on the scale of the universe itself, the Goat's efforts would have amounted to nothing on the scale of all that Was - but none of it changed the fact that it mattered. A tiny, backwater planet in a forgotten corner of one of the galaxy's stubbier, less-populated arms had become host to revolutions that were already redefining Existence as a principle, and was already casting all of the Gods that Were's seething hatred as so much impotent screeching.

Humanity's light would soon spread - Paradise had received but a taste in the rebirth of the Fauns and Raptors - and that light would eventually beckon forth new forms of darkness.

First things first, however. The home turf needed some clean-up. As that fact arose, knowledge dissipated and became less imminent and more innate - and mortal clarity returned, along with the roane's eyesight.
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone

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The difficult challenge of not being completely overwhelmed by this amount of knowledge was both terrifying and humbling. Simultaneously, Meris felt her connection to all the beings of the universe, making her understand her insignificance and importance. Her vision told her of how vital the events taking place on Earth actually were, even if they barely took up much time on the grand scale of things. It illuminated her mind as to her craft as a mage could be broadened immensely, far beyond her early years with her bard and apothecary teachers or tutelage under Nereus. The sheer magnitude of life with all its variations amazed and boggled her psyche. Toward the end of the journey, clarity returned to her and reminded her of her current purpose. While the trip would have driven others mad, she was cocooned in the information and sensations, which then seeped deeply into her brain and every fiber of who she was.

All in all, it had been an exhausting experience, and it showed in her physical demeanor. She had again slumped to what constituted the ground and panted slightly. With the return of her sight, she lightly shielded her readjusting pupils, as though they had been exposed to total darkness, then extreme light, and then meandered back to more normal levels.

"T-thank you for sharing that," she whispered, quivering as though the whole of it had been like aftershocks hitting her repeatedly. The Archmage wrapped her arms around herself and lightly rubbed the upper parts of her limbs to soothe out remaining tensions.
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone

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The old man ventured a bit closer, peering into her eyes. Whatever it was he was looking for - perhaps a trace of Merath's ingenious nature and empathy, something to shape her immense powers - he seemingly found it, and nodded slightly.

"You seem alright," he said. "It may take a while for my boon to truly bond with you as your body and mind are no longer that of my daughter, but you will one day Speak and Sing as Lucian already does. Things should seem profoundly different to you, back in the mortal plane, and yet remain entirely familiar. You will understand once I send you back."

The Augur's palace was restituted around them - with a key difference. Beyond its arches, naked stars could be seen, glittering in the moonlight. The smells of Rhode Island's coast wafted in, carrying the tang of fresh moss, new soil and cool stones. She'd recognize the  White Speech as it bounced in the cityscape below, the Architect's freed sons using their birthright's dialectal component to greet one another, offer queries or supply information. Sounds similar to Hope's own aural landscape glided in, some sort of gliding, floating and wheel-less car drifting closer to the street below, its radio blaring, the emcee speaking in a pidgin of English and White Speech.

"-come back to 78.45 FM, Radio New Dalarath. I'm Mike Seaborne, this is some third Cycle we've had brothers, huh? It's not everyday you wake up as legal citizens of a country without having to put a Flesh Mask on! It made for a fun Monday commute, lemme tell ya. Hail to our brothers and friends in Hope and Providence - weather's going to be a bit on the nippy side for the rest of the week while we step out of the planar disruptions to climate patterns. Remember to stop by the Word House if you've got fifteen minutes to spare, we still need mid-range voices to help bring down the North Atlantic Current. We've been relaying ourselves nonstop, so don't worry about exerting yourselves. All we need is fifteen minutes of your time - we've got cookies and juice if you need a top-off. For now, we're looking at a mild chill coming in from the oceanfront, so keep those tentacles bundled up! If you're fresh from underground and this is your first winter in North America, feel free to ask around! There's always someone in the neighborhood with some extra road salt and a sturdy shovel, or enough command over Words to just will one or two into being.

For now, I say we go back to some cultural immersion. Let's take a pit-stop by the Orkneys, pull in some blankets if you've got 'em, get that fireplace going, and spend a few minutes with the Wrigley Sisters and one of their Rock violin medleys..."

The Architect smiled. "I thought it might help to reframe all that I've just offered you into something more tangible. Take away all of these modern conveniences, and you see my Sons as I first conceived them."

Down below, the city was distinctly lacking in Dalarath's typical airs of murderous tension. If anything, the freed Squids seemed a tad less self-centered than the average pedestrian, with congenial tendril twitches, soft calls and glinting eyes marking most of every exchange she'd be able to see. They felt like a less affected version of Archibald's faultless manners, all these little nods and marks of respect and deference suggesting care, rather than importance given to ideas of rank or status. She'd hear the occasional blaring horn and maybe one or two angry shouts, but it stood to reason that Void Weavers could make for as poor commuters as anyone else, White Speech sounding a bit Bostonian here, a little Vancouverian there - the expressed anger being of the decidedly mundane kind. Someone was apparently late for work. All perfectly normal occurrences, here expressed by a people that had been murdering its kinsmen for advancement and profit for generations.

The Architect looked down. "You'll hit snags, obviously. Even in my days, my Sons harbored petty criminals or abusers, violent or disillusioned men - though no more than the humans or anthros. I quickly learned that no message, no matter how properly crafted, manages to touch everyone. It explains how the Betrayer fell to Amaxi, and how all of Her efforts never managed to completely wipe out my people's true spirit."
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone

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Meris surveyed the potential future where Void Weavers would generally live in harmony with surface dwellers and felt her heart swell with joy at the thought of it. She smiled warmly at the scene and looked back to the Architect. "I sincerely hope that this future comes to pass, at least in some form of it. It's one of the goals I have been working toward for so long," she admitted.

She then shrugged at the last statement. "I don't expect to reach everyone. Even if it's a significant majority, I'll feel like part of my job is done. I'd still act as a guide for them and strive to make sure that they'll get along with my allies and Hope's citizens."
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone

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The Architect didn't exactly need to reply. He knew Meris' assent was obvious. The old god allowed for a few moments to pass as he willed a sort of Buckminster Fuller-worthy geodesic dome into being around the palace, cutting off the simulated chill.

"I don't need to compound the need for caution," he said, "I've shown you enough tragedy and pain. I'd rather you left with this - simple hopes and dreams - clear in your mind. I've looked at these potential events dozens of times before, and I've found a few things I enjoy focusing on."

He pointed down. "I didn't think to foresee my Sons' drinking of your coffee, when I first created them. I like to look at this one, trying to blow on his cup's plastic lid and to sip some of its contents while not scalding his tendrils' inner lining."

The god paused and then pointed ahead across the rain-drenched street, with its White Speech and English signs. A medium-sized and slightly tubby Squid huddled in its toque and windbreaker, patiently enduring the resulting discomfort as a human child pulled at his tendrils while being held in its guardian's arms. It lasted a few seconds, the little multiracial family unit then striking an unheard discussion, the father taking the opportunity to gently clasp the child's questing hand and guide it away from the barely-swaying digits. Void Weavers could stomach humidity easily, but cold wasn't something they adapted to quickly. A brief lull in the traffic allowed Meris to hear the boy's query:

"You sound kinda funny, Dad. What's wrong with your mouth?
- Tentacles are gonna turn blue," replied the Squid, the barely-audible words sounding a little slurred. Help me out and tuck them back in my collar, alright?"

If the child agreed, Meris wouldn't hear it. Still, they kept walking past the palace. They might've been off to drop the kid at daycare or perhaps to go visit a friend, but that detail would be lost in the street's din. In any case, they seemed happy - or content, at least.

The Architect looked back to Meris. "I never dared to project myself into your future. Whatever comes out of what will happen once Lucian lifts his fingers away from your forehead, I wanted to remain yours, and yours alone. You no longer are my creation - you've forged yourself over too long for me to so much as dare to predict what you'll do. The old man I am now finds this admirable."
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone

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Meris couldn't help but mouth a silent "Aww" at the sight of the Void Weaver father and human child. She was reminded of the Void Weaver whose tentacles she had healed, back in Respite Point, who had cradled a human daughter of his own.

Once they had left, she turned to face the elderly god and nodded. "Thank you for giving me that freedom, Architect. I value what you've shown and taught me; I'll use those tools as best as I can," the roane replied with a kind smile.
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone

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The white haze of an oncoming blizzard soon engulfed the island, its cold not touching Meris. In the white haze, palace and simulation alike were dismissed, an odd sense of movement following the process.

"Be safe, Meris," said the god's disembodied voice, his voice reverberating across unseen spaces even as the haze resolved itself to the blurry color patches of her restored field of vision. She'd feel as though her body had lightly slumped, Lucian's rejuvenated limbs holding her up.

"There we are," he softly said. "You're back."

Her vision refocused, and Lucian now peered at her expectantly, seemingly finding something in her gaze that pleased him. "Wonderful," he said, "I do believe you were granted a boon similar to mine - there's something to your eyes that seems familiar, now. You'll soon see the world as I do."

Of course, barely a few seconds had passed in the waking world. The retreating footsteps of those headed to watch Ephesian's hearing conclude on the TV could still be heard, Drake briefly stopping.

"Is everything alright?" he asked the Squid and Archmage. "You look like you've had some sort of veil lifted from your eyes, Meris," he said. "I don't really know how else I could describe it."

Lucian stood up, hand outstretched to help Meris if desired. "That would be aptly put, Aidan. She now sees the world as you and I do - or at least, as you do when you are channeling the Black Speech."

Drake looked back to the others and opted to lag behind for a bit, refocusing on Meris and Lucian. "So we've won, is what you're saying. We've got the two of you, Gammell, the angels and a lot of demons, Nereus back West, the vampires... It's not like the Goat can warp reality to suit his needs."

Rothchild's eyes twinkled. "I wouldn't quite go that far. One day, you'll see exactly what it was the Architect's faithful could do to preserve the Real. I'm still learning the ropes, as it were, and Meris is only getting started. I think we both can appreciate the underlying compliment, however."
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone

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The Heiress took Lucian's offered hand and got up from where she had been seated. While it would have been easier to give the young man an easy response, Meris knew that there was more to it than just winning. "Brighter, happier days are indeed ahead," she allowed with a faint smile, her lips then pursing a bit more.

"However, it's still going to be a long, hard road before we get there. We're currently facing the darkness before the light, Aidan, and the Goat will be one of those who wants to make that path more difficult. Hopelessness might be the easy option, but we can't choose that with what's coming," she said cryptically, as though she knew more but didn't want to say. "The veil being lifted informed me more about myself, but also some of what's coming. Some of it isn't great or pain free, I'm afraid, but we'll persevere to see what Lucian mentioned."
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone

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"No spoilers," replied the soldier with an uneasy pursing of his lips. "I don't want to want to blame you if things turn bad. I'm guessing you could already argue that they have. Aldergard and Katherine - Jesus Christ..."

He shook his head and glanced outside, only for the TV to blare in the common room and Bucky to be heard hurriedly fetching the remote to bring the volume down. "It's already started, guys!" called out the Clank.

Three looked at Lucian and Meris in a way the Squid seemed to find telling. The young man didn't want to face what waited ahead of them, but knew he had no choice. Lucian, no longer being in need of protection and rather standing as one of the protectors, now, stood up beside Meris and laid a hand on Aidan's shoulder.

"Fate does not burden those blessed with simple lives, my boy. All of us here were touched in some way, charged with responsibility. Choice and happenstance brought us together to face this threat as one. You aren't alone in this."

Three nodded and huffed out a slightly ragged breath. "I know. I'm just - I'm scared, is all. Meris saw what happens when I get scared, in the Darkhallow. I want to run up and gut-punch what's scaring me, and I can't."

Lucian nodded. "This is familiar - and most irritating. In those instances, back when I used to gallivant about the United Kingdom exorcising troubled spirits, I reminded myself of one thing after each and every day: I'd survived. I'd survived, and therefore had accomplished something. So let me ask you: are you alive, right now?"

Three scoffed sardonically. "Scared shitless, too, but yeah. I'm alive.
- Then you're doing good," concluded the Squid. "Do what you can, do what you have to in order to ensure you can do the same tomorrow - and for the love of God, leave talk of prophecy and foreseen events to lost causes like Meris and myself."

Three parted with an uneasy bit of laughter. "Sure, but it's not fair for either of you, is it?"

Lucian smiled and looked back to his old friend. "I do believe Meris and I could agree on fairness being overrated."

The TV's volume was turned back up, enough so that they'd hear it distantly, if clearly.

"Yes, Regis - I'm told the jury has reached a verdict, and the prosecution and defense are both down to their final appeals. For several corporate pundits, the IsoTech case had begun as a sure-fire sign of out-of-court settlements incoming, but an unprecedented wave of grassroots campaigns organized by augmented former clients of IsoTech's, along with a dozen other cybernetics conglomerates, cast doubt in the eyes of many an observer in the previous months. To this was added Leonard Ephesian's nearly three full months of forced leave, initially motivated by medical concerns and later revealed to include the dissolution and re-incorporation of his firm. Ephesian and Associates kept the IsoTech case, even as its president and main Criminal Defense specialist was seen exhibiting increasingly erratic behavior. Concerns of drug use were first raised by Hope's tabloids in Rhode Island, only for rumors of acute spiritual distress to begin to spread. We've got a report at 8:30 on the often-overlooked and tangible ways in which the supernatural affects our lives, with possession as the focus.

Interviews with the diocese left me unable to determine what caused one of the Emerald City's former neighborhood heroes to sequester himself at Holden Hall for close to three weeks. The involvement of Rhode Island's vigilante force raises some questions, but neither Mayor Wallace Doherty or the team's main money-lender were available for comment. With Magnus Haraldson being in transition as Wyvern Holdings' new CEO, the Automaton-led team seems to operate in near-total secrecy, in stark contrast with other groups across the country. With the last few hearings troubling those assistance and Jury members with a background in the arcane arts and Ephesian's appearance having drastically changed since his first few requested continuances, it feels as though the defendant's luck might have finally ran out. As you could expect, the prosecution is chomping at the bit - but they're unusually careful. Candace Liddy of Tanner and Associates spoke on-record with us, earlier today..."

They'd come in to the sight of a dishy brunette in a carefully selected wavy pageboy and an assorted power suit giving the camera a reserved smile. "Counselor Ephesian and I are both in service of justice, and I certainly don't begrudge my colleague for falling down the same pit other juniors do - but there is a point where someone has to knowingly question his ability to defend his client. His last few court appearances involved his barely hiding his own contempt for IsoTech's Frank Lambert - I hope he's aware of the risks involved. Barring this, we're confident in our roadmap for the trial's conclusion and fully expect a favorable verdict, this evening. My firm's concerns lie more with Counselor Ephesian's well-being and mental state - and the risks involved - than with the case proper. I've notified my clients' main representatives to not expect a round of applause or congratulations, if we won.
- Is that a usual occurence?" asked the reporter. "One law firm keeping an eye on another, I mean."

Liddy's smile widened slightly. "We're professionals, not savages. In legal defense, notions of Good or Evil have to be put aside. These are for the faithful or for superheroes to tackle. I only hope mister Lambert will receive the representation he's entitled to - all I can safely guarantee is I'll give my clients what they've paid for and what they're entitled to as citizens of this country."

The view shifted to the male newscaster's carefully-groomed leonine face, as he gave his human and female colleague a brief look of assent. "Thank you, Sasha. That was Sasha Underwood, reporting from our Hope office. If you've just joined us, I'm Regis Hargrave-"

The woman caught the semantic volley like a pro. "-and I'm Heather Grier. We'll now go live to Hope's Josephus Buck courtroom, where a crowd had amassed earlier, carrying signs and pamphlets extolling the Coalition for Transhuman Rights' goals and stated mission. Erroneous reports of a gas leak first made the crowd disperse, only to later be revealed to be anomalous ley line activity interfering with the gas lines running below the courthouse. A team of Line Rectifiers was dispatched by City Services, even as larger rifts appear to be opening across town. The end of this trial seems to land two days away from a troubled Christmas Eve, with more closed avenues and sighted disturbances than were recorded last winter, during Morgana's attempted intrusion. Tensions are high both here, on the street and in the city's Stock Exchange. According to Douglas Heathcliff, either verdict could have a massive repercussion on cybernetics as an industry. Either quality control measures turn more stringent across the board, or IsoTech's lax approach is seen by a few as being worth the risk."

As Grier had spoken, the screen transitioned to a view inside the courtroom, with the false Lambert patiently waiting at the defendant's seat and table, while Candace Liddy was discussing finer details with the Coalition's representative, a well-built man whose silver right hand and unnaturally glassy eyes showed to be a cyborg of some persuasion. Both lawyers were gathering their things, with the courtroom's appointed judge - and the one whom Mantus seemed likely to eventually replace - looking fairly brittle in the black robe of his office. He was a thin African-American man of advanced years, frizzy hair turned white after decades, eyes still sharp under thick bifocals.

"All rise," called the bailiff, "for the Honorable Charles Stevens!"

Three was too tense to pick a seat, even if several were empty. He stuck to hovering close to Meris and Lucian, the Squid sensing just how terrified - and primed for battle - Aidan truly was.
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