While she was pondering her options, four more burning lines of pain left bright red streaks across her skin. And while none of them were in any way lethal—in fact all they really managed to do was to kindle her ire—they were, unfortunately, not trivial enough for her to simply ignore outright. She glared at the insect.

  If only she had access to her spirit-!

  But no, still too risky.

  Should she run?

  Not a particularly auspicious way to kick off her grand ascension. Hmm… Eight more projectiles traced red hot lines across her body before she’d finished making up her mind. It was somewhat infuriating but, with his spirit in such a sorry condition, ultimately, she could turn to little else. But, that then begged the question.

  Dare she?

  Well, now that she really thought about it, why ever not? She would have to delve into it eventually.

  Why not go ahead and see just what it was she’d payed so dearly for? Explore just what it was that differentiated a mere multi-generational talent—a monstrous prodigy in her own right—from someone uniquely favored by the heavens. With a thrill of excitement, Nialla submerged herself in the boys memories, scouring the disorganized waters for the most recent impressions.

  Ahah!

  Resurfacing in short order with several mantras in tow, she wasted no time in actualizing them. Her recitations quick, her breaths coming fast—eyes smugly fixed on the insect that had dared to sting her.

  I believe that coffin filled with chains should suffice. Yes, I believe it should serve quite nicely.

  Anticipation made a mockery of unfamiliar features. A tight, rictus grin liable to traumatize children.

  “My will a focused strike; restrain the thoughts that blind me—I will bury us all if it means total comprehension.”

  ABSOLUTE BURIAL

  And then… she staggered. Nearly fell out of the sky. Conflicting forces. Unwieldy energies. Domineering wills and ill-tempered petulance—as if celestial bodies were throwing a hissy fit inside of her.

  All vying for dominance. All clamoring for attention.

  Raging storms and undulating tremors. Extinction waves and natural disasters. Winding. Twisting. Coiling around one another in some age-old primordial struggle. And all the while there was her meek little soul shell. Tiny, insignificant, and taxed nearly to bursting trying to contain it all. All that incomprehensible stuff of higher realities.

  Behind her, the hazy impression of a coffin heavily laden with chains collapsed in on itself before it could even begin to solidify. And just like that, as if they’d suddenly lost interest, the titanic forces playing tug of war with her immortal soul vanished, as if they’d never been. Leaving one dumbstruck Nialla desperately gasping for air—her eyes gone wide, body shaking like a leaf.

  How the actual-?! What was that?!

  Ignoring the bright lines of pain that continued to pepper her, she once more delved deep into the boy’s memories. She tore at the vague impressions with an almost frantic desperation, struck as she was by a sudden and inescapable concern. What if it turned out that she had, in fact, crippled herself with this whole entire endeavor?

  What if there was something uniquely special about the boy—beyond his system gifted talents and inherited abilities—that made him, somehow, able to find meaning in that riotous tumult of conflicting forces.

  Something she couldn’t merely take, despite being in possession of his body, mind, and spirit. Something that was somehow intrinsic to him and only him. The thought alone nearly sent her into paroxysms of rage and despair. Her growing doubts enough to spur her onto even faster speeds.

  Her frenetic pace only slowing when, at long last, she unearthed the secret to his inexplicable power.

  This… what?! That’s it? But that doesn’t even make sense! How does it-? Oh, I see. Clever. Very clever. Ingenious even. I mean, it’s positively deranged. By any stretch of the imagination it shouldn’t work, and yet:.. But wait, then how…! Oh? Oh! So that’s it. Fascinating… simply fascinating.

  Concession theory. A possible conspiracy that went all the way to the top—to the fundamental building blocks of creation itself. This information—this theory of his—if it was indeed true, it wasn’t just dangerous. It could upend the entire social order of the Constellation as a whole. Perhaps even the whole of the greater multiverse.

  Fen’Reale indeed.

  Now that this power rested squarely in her own hands however, and the issue of his “uniqueness” had been firmly put to rest, it should prove trivial to wipe the gnat—which even now insisted on its pestering—off the face of this realm. Only… there was one thing that held her back. A single question. What gave the shard such confidence? To think she might attack repeatedly and with impunity? Surely she couldn’t think the distance separating them would save her.

  Nialla took a good long look, then, at the rebellious soul shard in question—setting sun catching her hair at just the right angle, creating a halo of radiance which framed delicate features set in a determined frown. Not an ounce of hesitation on that face. Not a hint of fear, even as she once more lashed out with her crude weapon—streaks of crimson flickering forth to further score a body already drenched in blood.

  There was something more to this she was certain of it. And, after only a bit of searching, she managed to pinpoint just what it was that was bothering her. A memory, from a time shortly before they exited the rift. Three figures sat around a roaring campfire. They were on a beach of all things, and it was from the boys perspective that events played out.

  “So, let me get this straight, Jun.”

  The perspective shifts, the turning of his head revealing the delicate form of her daughter from where she sits astride his left shoulder.

  “Your big idea, this brilliant plan to extricate our collective rears from the terrible bind we now find ourselves in, is, and I quote, to intentionally… lose?”

  Hmm…!?

  “Well, not intentionally.”

  “Jun, no offense, but nothing about what you just told me screams of your unswerving belief in our ability to prevail.”

  “Well, believing in yourself is all well and good, but it’s also just as important to have a realistic understanding of our chances.”

  A purple notification intrudes.

  Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  Which, if I might add, remain exceedingly low.

  “See?”

  “Your words aren’t filling me with a great deal of confidence over here Jun.”

  “Yeah, well. Call it a backup plan, then. Plan b, if you will. Ideally we’d put paid to the whole soul swapping tentacle goddess dilemma in one fell swoop. Or, would that be one fell swing? Plan A is still very much on the table, is all I’m saying. But, if for whatever reason plan A just isn’t cutting it…?”

  “Then you allow her to take ownership of your body.”

  These last words originated from a very familiar soul shard, the fair haired pest, from where she sat across the fire pit.

  “Exactly! Weakened from the fight—not to mention whatever toll the other me’s rambunctious escapades have taken—she should be significantly diminished in the immediate aftermath. Quite possibly the only time when she’ll be that weak for the foreseeable future.”

  “Which is where I come in, correct?” the shard responds.

  “Right on the money.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to disappoint, but I’m not certain I’ll be able to live up to your expectations. Perhaps if you summoned someone more capable in my stead-?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re worrying over nothing. You’ll be fine! Trust me, when the time comes you’ll have an edge over her that even I can’t claim to match.”

  Oh? What was this?

  “I… don’t understand. How-?”

  “It’s simple really. I told you how my abilities operate correct? The main mechanic that gives them that extra bit of oomph?”

  “There’s a clear give and take. A weakness in some areas, in return for added strength in others,” the shard’s eyes widened as she, much like Nialla, began to comprehend.

  Clever boy…

  “Ahh! You’re starting to see it now, aren’t you?”

  “I… yes, I believe so.”

  “To balance the karmic scales or whatever, my abilities, what we like to call mantras, are only ever strong because somewhere, somehow, they’re pathetically weak. And, trade secret? The more specific and devastating that weakness, the more powerful and overwhelming the effect.”

  The boy took a sip from a garishly decorated beverage—shuddering in revulsion internally, even as he outwardly made a show of expressing his enjoyment. Smacking his lips contentedly, he continued.

  “Now, normally this wouldn’t be much of an issue. In order to take advantage of such a weakness not only would you need to accurately assess, devise a counter, and then properly implement said counter whilst in the heat of battle. But you would also need to do all of that while simultaneously evading the very real threat the mantra itself tends to pose. Pretty darn hard to manage, in other words.”

  He took another sip from the drink, shuddered, then went on.

  “Damn near impossible if you’re just seeing the phenomenon for the very first time. I mean, you see a sky full of chains hurtling towards you, and what’s your first thought? Is it, ‘hmm, I’d better pinpoint the critical weakness of this rickety straw-house of a design so I can end the battle in as efficient a way as possible?’ Or is it, ‘holy shit! I’d better get out of the way of that kickass technique before I’m squashed flat!’”

  “I suppose my own sentiment would be more aligned with the second option.”

  “Your damned right it’s the second one! Even for an ascendant super being extraordinaire, I highly doubt it’s possible to do all that, on minimal information, in the brief time it takes for my figurative fist to plant a good one-two into your metaphorical face.”

  He reached for his drink, took one last look at his fruity beverage, made to take another sip, before he apparently thought better of it and set it back down.

  “Unless, that is, you were somehow apprised of all those nifty little tidbits beforehand. Now, about those weaknesses. Do you have pen and paper with you? Because this might take a while,” he finished with a shit eating grin.

  Nialla swore. Even from beyond the brink of oblivion the cheeky little brat was finding new ways to vex her. It was almost impressive how much of a nuisance he was able to make of himself. Coming back to herself fully, she felt the sting of dozens of new cuts clamoring for her attention, but by then she was well past caring. Nialla scrutinized the defiant soul shard with newfound appreciation. It was all so simple.

  The constant needling. The wary distance she kept.

  The shard wasn’t making a serious effort at injuring her at all, it was attempting to bait Nialla into a reckless charge. At which point the jaws of this devilishly crafted trap would slam shut on her unsuspecting head. Nialla was almost tempted to laugh.

  At what point, she wondered, would she stop underestimating this fate-touched? Clearly he was far too clever by half. With his final gambit summarily disarmed, however, she figured she’d finally outlasted his layered machinations.

  No.

  She would not commit to a dubious engagement that in no way benefited her. Why should she when she could simply… leave? Go to where this soul shard clearly could not follow.

  The boy had made a key error whilst concocting his plan. In thinking she was too proud to make a hasty retreat should the situation call for it. She would leave this uppity soul shard to the slow degradation of its realm.

  She would not give it the satisfaction of a fight heavily weighed in its favor and possibly jeopardize her ascension as a result. And so saying, she gave the shard a condescending grin by way of farewell, before tearing a rift in the fabric of this world—through a surgical use of the boy's aspect of precise dissection. With a final wave goodbye, she stepped through the yawning rift, and exited the perforated anima entirely.

  Eleanor slumped in her saddle—letting out a breath she hadn’t even known she’d been holding. Lucile, sidling up to Eleanor on her own griffin familiar, whistled appreciatively.

  “Phew! Thought she’d never leave. Ah-! Shit, sorry. You alright kid? Not going to say I’m one hundred percent on everything you told us back there, but that was him gone right? Your familiar? Tough break… I mean, I really am sorry.”

  Eleanor’s gaze fell, fixating on her hands for whatever reason. She had to clench them tight to stop their trembling.

  “Ah… yeah. I’m fine. Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  The woman paused. Scratching at her nape awkwardly as if fishing for something to say.

  “So! Uh… what now?”

  Eleanor sighed.

  “I-” Eleanor jumped.

  A rectangular purple box suddenly bloomed large in front of her, nearly eclipsing her vision entirely. She was just getting her racing heart to slow when text began scrawling it’s way across the page.

  You have no more time to decide. Answer now or doom your people to a fate worse than death.

  Eleanor’s pulse began to race even faster than before.

  “Hey, you alright kid?”

  “May I have just a bit more time?”

  No. What is your answer?

  Eleanor gulped. Turned. Looking out over the land that had been her entire world for as long as she’d known—the verdant hills and picturesque valleys. Craggy mountains and endless fields.

  Even out here on the frontier, barely half a kilometer away from a war torn battlefield the likes of which her world has rarely known, the beauty on display—as the undulating landscape was grazed by the dying embers of the setting sun—was breathtaking. And yet, was it the land that made a place home, or was it its people? Her people.

  Could she really, in good conscience, condemn her people to death when she alone had the ability to prevent it? Or rather, should she say, could she do so for a second time?

  “You can promise me they’ll be safe? That you’ll transport them to a place they can call their own. Free from starvation and rift spawn. A land of plenty where they can settle and grow?”

  “Kid! Corporal, who the hell are you talking to?”

  That is well within my capabilities.

  “Then,” Eleanor took a deep, shuttering breath. “So be it. One life for the sake of millions? How selfish would I have to be to refuse?”

  Excellent. Take comfort in knowing that you have made the correct decision. And that your sacrifice will, ultimately, serve a purpose far greater than you could ever know.

  “Hey corporal! Corporal! What in the-?! Eleanor! Hey-!”

  There was a brief lance of pain, sudden and intense. And then, the soul shard by the name of Eleanor, was no more.