Amdirlain’s PoV - East Wind’s Court

  Their accommodation gained a collection of paintings over the following nine weeks of research. Kadaklan’s and Klipyl’s cooperative efforts created each, giving the place a feeling of home. The lady’s arm against the backdrop of flowers turned into a stylised picture of Lady Omiyanome-no-Okami; those that followed were depictions of the four winds. The canvas stencils and stamps were a simple yet sophisticated colouring book, with the stamps to place identical-sized dabs of paint.

  The methodical approach echoed Amdirlain’s efforts to improve her True Song Architecture with a few points a night. The pressure of the advancement continued to increase, but she found Songbird handled the influx with increasing smoothness, and she kept getting progressive insights beyond the points she’d spent. Underscored by the headband’s theme; she could hear a muffling influence that quashed memories from rising.

  As they packed up the latest round of texts provided by the librarians, Amdirlain set a book on sigil refinement in the middle of the table.

  Cyrus handed it back to her. “Speak to Kadaklan about it, as he’ll be more familiar. I’m sure he’ll have the same view: It’s too risky even though it matches your sigil’s motif.”

  “He’s on the back balcony. Klipyl abandoned him for an afternoon tea.”

  “Klipyl’s been good for him.”

  “I think they’ve been good for each other.”

  With everything packed and ready for the library staff, they left the flag to indicate the room could be cleared. Amdirlain waited until they’d left the library before she teleported.

  Kadaklan was cross-legged on the balcony, hands tucked inside the sleeves of his orange and yellow robes, attention far beyond the barrier.

  She set the book on the low table before him; the rasp of leather against wood drew his attention. The leather cover depicted a Phoenix with widespread wings rising from a volcano’s basin, lava spraying around it. “What do you think?”

  He barely spared it a glance before he met her gaze. “That’s the principle sigil refinement manual of the South Wind’s Court. I think you should keep looking.”

  “Master Cyrus believes you might be familiar with this one. I need to improve my sigil to use the Soul healing technique, which I feel is suitable, and this technique feels right.”

  “I knew you were becoming more comfortable with Orhêthurin, but this technique involves exploring your current sigil’s alignment to your past lives.” Kadaklan laid his hand on the cover. “How much progress do you need to make on your sigil?”

  “Five or six more reinforcements.”

  “If you can’t get to that point, you’ll have to unravel all the stages before you can start on another technique.” He pointed at the rocks among the lava. “If it’s an accurate copy, this manual contains no traps; however, the technique is hazardous for those with extensive past lives. The nature of those risks will make it particularly dangerous for you.”

  She knelt across from him and folded her hands in her lap. “Given how it involves aligning lifetimes, I’d say Orhêthurin is your primary concern.”

  “You studied it enough to understand that and still want to try the approach?” Kadaklan stored his book.

  “Yes, I’ve tried to be more accepting and less judgemental about her choices. At first, I didn’t know the scope of what she’d endured. I think using this one might help me reach a healthier place. Can you tell me your opinion clearly, or is it a matter of understanding?”

  “When you successfully enter the trance to follow the cycling pattern, you’ll see all your lives surrounding you. Everyone sees them differently, but two things are the same: a core and an aura around it. It might be a lump of magma with flames around it or a body covered in swirling motes of blackness, blood, or leeches. A friend of mine found herself confronted with rotting maggot-filled corpses, and the aura around each was flies coming to lay more eggs. The first few times they refined their sigil, they couldn’t meditate for a week afterwards.”

  Amdirlain winced. “Did their Dao involve death?”

  “No, decaying in the ground was her biggest fear. Again, it’s another aspect of the technique that isn’t consistent. She’s the only person I know who saw them as their fears; for others, it was temptations, trees, or just rocks.”

  “I’ve seen different things inside my Soulscape, and it changes after major events,” advised Amdirlain.

  Kadaklan nodded. “Then you’re familiar with how it can change with how you feel about your life or trauma. Such visions may parallel the Soulscape’s dynamic nature, its changes mirroring a person’s life journey. You need to seek the right life to align and handle first, but the longest life will always drag you towards it. If you enter it, and it’s not the right one to handle, you’ll have to live through every horrific moment.”

  “It talks about confronting choices within the meditation trance.”

  “You spoke to me about the corridor of decisions Ebusuku faced getting free of the Abyss. Except you’ll experience the key points where that life added strength to your Soul, not moments of regret.”

  “How do I determine the right life to enter?”

  “It’s the one with the sharpest regret, but Orhêthurin’s expansive life will be saturated with them, so I’m not sure you’ll be able to differentiate.”

  “What if I enter her life and it isn’t the right one to tackle first? Does it still progress the sigil?”

  Kadaklan’s complexion looked ashy. “No, and it can undo your previous advancement. Given the dwarven lifetime you experienced in Qil Tris, I worry about you using this technique. Have you tried the primary exercises?”

  “The meditative exercise with Ki Body felt natural, as did cycling through the reinforced lines.”

  “Did you stick to cycling Ki through the reinforcements?” asked Kadaklan.

  Amdirlain smiled playfully. “You mean I shouldn’t have used Primordial mana?”

  “May the Jade Emperor have mercy on me.” Kadaklan’s sad eyes emphasised his suddenly wan expression.

  Tempted to laugh, Amdirlain waved him towards Klipyl. “You can go walking later. I’m sure that will cheer you up.”

  “Amdirlain, the last refinement I did took me a year of meditation and continual cycling to work through a ninety-year life that I found uncomfortable,” chided Kadaklan. “Once you enter a life you can’t leave, you’re vulnerable and oblivious to outside stimuli. Someone could force a dull knife slowly through you, and you’d feel nothing.”

  “I gather the manual doesn’t contain any of these warnings because it’s only immortals using these manuals, and if someone kills them, they get to say hello to Judge Po.”

  “And they’re going to be members of a sect or order that would provide a secure location.” Kadaklan groaned.

  “Sounds like I’d best do this somewhere with plenty of protections,” offered Amdirlain lightly.

  “Amdirlain, supposing that everything goes right and Orhêthurin’s lifetime is the one you need to align the sigil with first. How many millennia do you think that will take you?”

  “How long did the lives you found comfortable take you to align to the sigil?”

  Kadaklan waved his hands frantically. “Don’t use my experience as the base for your expectations, especially if you’re still having those wild musical storms that the headband started.”

  “I am, but it made it possible for me to hear more of her memories clearly,” said Amdirlain. “Kadaklan, please relax and tell me how long. I’ll commit to not doing anything stupid.”

  As he released a strained sigh, his fingers lifting to his temples. “The one I felt most comfortable with only took a day for a century. Other sigil refinement techniques don’t require facing past lives.”

  Amdirlain hummed thoughtfully, but with even the most optimistic allowances for their potential differences in Intelligence and Willpower, her calculations came up with numbers far too large. “Damn it.”

  “Why this technique specifically?”

  Amdirlain paused, the tip of her tongue against her upper lip, as she revised her explanation. “Orhêthurin. I had hoped to figure out what was blocking her memories. I get pieces of memories back, but she had perfect recall, and I’ve had it since I returned to this realm.”

  “You hoped the alignment with past lives might give me some insights into the cause?”

  “If you have a problem, you track down the source.”

  A sigh greeted her wry smile; Kadaklan opened the book and paged towards the end. “These exercises in the back are the final steps of the technique after you’ve prepared your sigil. However, if you do them without preparation, you’re not cycling, so you’ll consume Ki throughout the process. The longer the trance goes on, the more Ki you consume, and since it’s not a self-sustaining loop, you’ll drop out of it.”

  “You’ve personal experience with them?”

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  Kadaklan nodded. “It’s a way to help gain acceptance, or at least a measure of understanding, of deeds conducted in a past life. Even if you disagree with them, it lets you walk in the person’s shoes, so to speak. Your situation isn’t even close to mine though, Am.”

  “Besides not going near it, what’s your advice?”

  “Have your Ki reserves nearly empty,” Kadaklan tapped an image of a door on the illuminated page. “And identify each memory’s exit at the very start.”

  “I regenerate Ki pretty fast now.”

  Kadaklan’s mouth hardened into a tight line. “You can drain Ki into a crystal. Can you set up one to siphon Ki from you?”

  “What other safeguards can you think of?”

  He carefully closed the book. “You’re going to go ahead?”

  “With the final meditations. Are you going to help me set up and brainstorm safety measures?”

  “Klipyl will never forgive me if something happens to you.”

  “She will. She knows I’m the reckless one between us,” reassured Amdirlain. “Plus, I have a better chance of success with your help than without.”

  “Let me confirm this is an accurate copy while we discuss it.”

  ? ? ? ? ? ?

  Amdirlain appeared among a horde of diverse figures that matched the statues from the old lake bed. They all had a lifeless mask that eerily mirrored Orhêthurin’s features, secured to their flesh with long nails. A set of orbs surrounded each figure, ranging from black holes distorting the light to water droplets drenching the figure’s clothing. They flitted in erratic orbits around the only lifelike Orhêthurin among them, her head bowed, bloody tears trailing her cheeks. The effort of crossing the field manifested in sweat beading along her deadened limbs. Unlike what Kadaklan had led her to expect, the figure repulsed her efforts to approach.

  After what seemed like weeks, Amdirlain touched the central figure. “Do you represent Orhêthurin?”

  Eyes snapped open, and a hand clamped on Amdirlain’s wrist. “What is it you’re seeking, Amdirlain?”

  “I need to learn more.” Amdirlain fought instinct and kept her arm relaxed.

  “There aren’t shortcuts, Amdirlain. Didn’t you tell the Lóm? that the realm doesn’t give?”

  “I’m not asking to be given, but I need a guide. I need the memories you’re blocking so I can understand. Orhêthurin taught Gilorn mostly about the Material Plane, but I need to know more about the planar framework and the realm’s boundary.”

  The surroundings swirled and reformed into Orhêthurin’s training arena, blades raking the air millimetres from Amdirlain. The surrounding figures vanished, puffs of smoke dissipated by the thrashing pillars, scything blades, and twisting spikes. The exit loomed above them, requiring her to bypass moving obstacles and ascend a pillar to access the balcony.

  Crystal armour sheathed the figure, obscuring her features completely. “No, you don’t want to do that. You feel obligated to learn. Go to the plinth, set the burden down, spend time with Sarah, and forget about the headaches.

  “I need to take care of it.” Amdirlain reformed her hand by her side, freed from the shadow’s grasp.

  “Why? Because it’s necessary?” A bitter laugh lashed the air. “Fuck what’s necessary. It never once brought a smidge of happiness. It just added to the misery.”

  “I want to heal the realm.”

  “Poison pervades this realm to its very core. You sensed the misery in Roher, and you didn’t ask him anything about what was wrong.” An armoured finger jabbed against Amdirlain’s sternum with each word. “You just lectured him because you knew it was another rotten Lóm? headache waiting to explode over you. You didn’t want to get dragged into someone’s mess. Overcoming adversity brings more adversity. I learnt what a wretched place I built first hand.”

  “You’re not Orhêthurin. You’re a memory, a shadow of her at best. The realm wasn’t the cause of that pain.” Amdirlain motioned to them. “Time passed relentlessly, offering no hope for the love she desired because she cut herself off. Yet she craved the love she’d had from her parents, family, and Shindraithra. Shindraithra fell in love with her without that being Orhêthurin’s intent. She moved to protect the newly created being who asked if they were family and who became family in her heart, then became her love. Poison doesn’t pervade this realm. If it did, so many people wouldn’t find joy within it.”

  “Shindraithra left me alone.”

  “They fell into a trap that Orhêthurin didn’t know was inside her. Just as the Greek gods fell into Orhêthurin’s trap,” pressed Amdirlain.

  “She’ll leave you again.”

  Amdirlain smiled. “That’s fear talking, not fact. Once, that would have dug into me hard, but now I know you’re channelling the self-doubt, fear, and regret of Orhêthurin’s lifetime. She couldn’t prolong Shindraithra’s life in this realm, but I’ve made no such promise. While Sarah should be able to achieve that herself, in the worst case, I’ve options now.”

  “Death claims everything.” The lower section of the helm reformed into an embossed, jagged maw as the words echoed hollowly behind the facade.

  She touched her fingertips to the crystal interlocking shark’s teeth. “You only say that because Orhêthurin craved death. I know why she did, and you can’t lie to me. Orhêthurin craved it because of a guilt she shouldn’t have felt. She didn’t understand the noise she’d never heard the ocean make, so her M?tēr and brothers died before Orhêthurin learned what happens when a tidal wave hits the shore.”

  The shadow of Orhêthurin grabbed her hand and forced it away, hissing angrily. “I won’t give you the power you seek.”

  “I don’t want it given to me. What I want is what you’ve been denying me—the memories you’ve locked away; the oath link with Shindraithra used to let some through, but I removed that. The headband has cracked your grip, and I’m getting so many of them without control because of your interference.”

  “What good will that do you?”

  “Because without your interference, I’ll be able to confirm what’s possible and have the memories to guide my training. You’re what? A filter she left behind to stop future selves from touching the Soul memories became she wanted them to go off and have normal lives. I can tell you’ve got enough independence to know when that task is no longer required, so please help me sort through the memories instead. You’ve taken on her appearance, but you’re not Orhêthurin.”

  “Technically, we’re both Orhêthurin, and she’s part of us. I won’t exist once I release the block, but follow this route, and you might as well become Orhêthurin. It will fill your life with regret at everything you missed. Growing stronger will become the only thing you’ll have time to pursue.”

  The masks nailed over the others’ faces tweaked at Amdirlain, the fear she’d possessed of being replaced by Orhêthurin.

  Amdirlain shook her head. “No, it didn’t need to be that way. Orhêthurin ensured she didn’t have time for anything else because she didn’t believe she was loveable. She promised to find love, not allow herself love in return. She must have set it up so her husband would find her expecting rejection. Even if she’d accidentally slipped, she could have snuffed out every trace of the songs that caused the fight before he’d taken in his surroundings. I know how quickly I can react and assess compared to others, and I’m sure she’d have left me in the dust.”

  “He was happier without me.”

  “With hindsight, it wasn’t necessary to drive her husband away, and it added to her misery.”

  The figure’s hands clenched. “He left me!”

  “She could have found out why he’d become so prideful, learnt the traps others were laying. Orhêthurin could have done so easily if she believed in her self-worth. But she didn’t judge herself worthy of love, so it was better he left; better, others found her distant and unapproachable.”

  “When Sarah dies, you’ll learn the same lesson: emptiness awaits. Leave here. Go to the plinth.” The armour slipped from the figure, and she waved Amdirlain to the door. “If you stay, it won’t be a short checklist. It’s millions of years consumed by the lesson plan you want. I’ll show you, but once you have what you seek, you’ll follow it to your doom.”

  “I don’t need you to show me. I need you to stop blocking the memories.”

  “The token that sent you here should have fallen into your hands.”

  Old pains and regrets stabbed at her, and Amdirlain froze. “How do you know that?”

  “Because Kronos told me how to tangle myself with it before we left. The same night that Kronos told me he’d seen me mauled in our original realm, but that I’d have lived normal lives in the realms between. All the misery you, Shindraithra, and Mori suffered was because I did what was necessary to ensure his vision came true. Otherwise, I’d have wandered the other realms with no beacon to find our original.”

  “You keep saying me and I, but you’re not Orhêthurin.”

  “Since I control her memories, I’m closer to her than you. Are you sure you’re not looking to become her? To set everything aside and let another personality take over?”

  Though Amdirlain’s gaze narrowed, she didn’t snap at the bait. “Did Orhêthurin know I’d get cursed using it?”

  “No, the token was Father’s gift in case brother needed aid. I never expected it to be used to curse someone, nor did I dream our mortal family would stretch so long. I thought he’d surely use the token to escape with her in months. Their departure would leave the token homeless, but it would be there when my Soul returned to that realm per Kronos’s vision. In each life that followed, it would eventually reach that future self. Kronos promised a safety net, not a source of torture.”

  “Then why raise it at all? Do you think it made a stalker obsess about me?”

  “You feel guilty about so much, but that’s hard to prove. The fates might have twisted my intent for it before they left.” More of Orhêthurin’s bitter laughter rang out from the figure. “Or Kronos might have lied all along. To be certain, you would need to check your stalker’s Soul. Are you going to kiss and make up with Naamah? What does it matter if fate controlled him or Kronos played me? Is it right to leave him tortured for eternity?”

  “Ahh, you’re trying to distract me, but it’s not a priority.”

  The figure shifted to the left, circling Amdirlain. “Why not?”

  “Because I’ve numbed him to the pain, he’s entranced into a slumber, and because I’ve learnt how to forgive myself. That extends to past lives that didn’t know better. You said it yourself—Orhêthurin’s expectations were different.”

  “Then you’re a hypocrite, able to forgive yourself but not the Lóm?.”

  As the armour reappeared, Amdirlain dug her fingers into the sides of the helm and ripped it free. “I don’t have enough context for the rage you’re letting out. You’re the one that’s provoking my hypocrisy. I know what you’re doing, and I’ve said what I believe your purpose is, but why did Orhêthurin put you in place?”

  “Orhêthurin’s regrets went into forming us both. All the damage to her Soul impacted you, while I’m just a thought. Your theory is right. She believed her old life could bring no one happiness and wanted those who followed shielded. Which worked until you both returned to this realm. If you’d left the vines in place, I could have continued to manage it. Once you stripped them away in father’s maze, I tried to drive you off with painful memories, but you kept digging.”

  “At least you’ve abandoned the act that you’re Orhêthurin. Please move out of the way.”

  “Only if you can catch me.”

  The figure leapt in among the whirling traps, and Amdirlain gave chase. Explosions ripped the air behind her, and the end of a shattered blade tugged at her pinkie.

  ? ? ? ? ? ?

  Seated in the empty kitchen on the ground floor, Kadaklan had been monitoring Amdirlain for hours. His gaze fixed on the crystal created to siphon her Ki; he winced as it activated and filled an arm-long crystal pressed against it. The trance hadn’t ended despite both glowing like a warm midday sun. He pushed another long crystal against the siphon and watched it flood with her Ki’s golden glow even faster.

  Her sigil flared to life within her chest, and blood scented the air as it flowed from a severed fingertip that didn’t immediately regrow. As her flesh roared into white flames, he threw himself away, only for a barrier around Amdirlain to flare up and stop its expansion.

  He released his despair in a sour grunt. “Sarah, please don’t kill me.”

  Sarah placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Neither of us was going to talk her out of trying. Can we do anything to help now?”

  “Those meditations shouldn’t have activated her sigil, and she shouldn’t have taken a physical injury.”

  A rich laugh filled the air, echoing off the cold stone floor. “Expect the unexpected.”

  Kadaklan lifted a hand to shield his gaze as the flames flared brighter. “Can we get the Phoenix’s eggshell to her?”

  “The barrier is only blocking energy moving away from her.” Sarah opened a Gate to Amdirlain’s Foundry.