Journal #69: Broken and Forgotten Shades

The Harp is contained, placed inside a demiplane of Azsire’s creation. At least I assume so. I have not been back to the material plane, as I have spent the past couple of days in the Boneyard. Apparently, Kazric had been here as well as, to drop some things that belonged to me. Some magical items, and weirdly enough an excess gold I had gained from Kazric. Kazric being who he is, had just mentioned it was just a gift from somebody. Something to look into later.
 
Atropos has been keeping me company on occasion, I’ve caught her reading some of the novels Celuriel and I left behind during our last extended stay here. In addition, I had spent time completing my letter to the Commander of the Galasthin Elves. Something I never personally thought I would have to do. As well as crafting some magical item that will be more beneficial next time I am in a fight.
 
In truth, I do not want to spend time thinking about this, not for the next couple of weeks. Despite my year in the Boneyard it was hardly what I would call a break. Till the Lost Ones decide to do something that requires us to leave Ironfalls. Celuriel and I will be left to our own devices once I return that is. Hopefully, that will be longer than a week, besides a few personal matters I have to take care of, Celu and I hopefully should spend the rest of our time together without having to see them. Thankfully none of my tasks have anything to do with the Lost Ones.
 
For once I am stalling, even in writing this, there is a bit of hesitation I will admit. As we originally thought the harp was telling us a tale. With each trial of combat, it gradually unfolded its story through words. Telling us it’s perspective on their side of the story.
 
Her side.
 
I will not bore my future self upon the recollection of that first fight. When we stepped out of the comfort of that rod of security and plunged into the domain of the Harp. Nothing about these fights were easy, and even less made sense. The first and likely least important of those fights were of that Skeletal Mage. Which wielded dancing dragon skulls and severing my connection to a part of my power. It might have been the least important in regards to the song and story the harp was telling, but it taught a lesson. One important thing to remember, one that could possibly save us. I learned that it was possible to sever somebody's connection from their source of mythic power. While I have only acquired that power recently. I am still learning how far I can stretch these abilities. However, in that loss of connection, I had to heavily rely on Pharasma’s power to recreate a temporary link to my mythic abilities. As evidence of having to draw on that power, it warped one of the spells, changing its looks.
 
A swirling blue fireball released from my fingertips during the fight, cloaked in Pharasma’s divine energy. The swirling blue bead soared through the long hall we fought in hitting the draconic skull where I had aimed. For a fraction of a moment, the bead disappeared inside the skull. Blueish white flames jutted out of the empty eye sockets, the bone of this skull creaking and cracking under the strain of the fireball. Finally exploding under pressure, the skull fragmenting into hundreds of pieces leaving the undead dragon’s splinter bones to mix with others that were gathered at the sides of the hall.
 
I was taken aback at the fireballs display.
 
Licia was the one to deal the final blow to that skeletal mage.
 
With our adversary defeated, the shard flung us further into its grasp. A rather simple yet still dangerous puzzle. Each of us was invisible to each other, including the other group. The objective was simple though it was not explained to us. Become visible to others. Which thanks to Ashlyn’s brilliant bag of holding contained large amounts of flour and other mundane things (I swear we need to inventory that bag). That is about the length I am willing to speak on the matter. As it is Sonja I wish to speak of during this trail.
 
The more time we spend with Sonja the less I trust her. Her psionic abilities or some ability of hers has me concerned for many reasons. During this trial, Sonja’s group was placed under her control. Some last-minute trump card as Azsire put it. It comes back to Silver Orbs around their neck.
 
I will speak plainly for once in this journal. Given Sonja’s connection to Riven, and how dreamers have stated to be anywhere and everywhere. Depending on the strength and range of this little spell she had placed the others under. There might be a hidden army waiting and unwilling. That thought alone makes any and all dreamers untrustworthy. While Jinne might be my friend, I cannot say I trust her. It’s still strange that she’s shown up at two shards.
 
Who can I trust?
 
The Lost Ones? Not all of them apparently.
 
Cid is a liability as long as Elias has his mentor, Licia has issues with how much she speaks and who she speaks to. I don’t blame Burdyr for trusting this other group, he doesn’t know. Lukas has a whole set of issues that connect back to Riven’s Crew. I have some ideas about how we might avoid that. I will attempt the civil route first if not, there is a second option. Though the second option is risky for me if I let my thoughts stray too much.
 
That is off-topic.
 
I can trust Celuriel above all else, Kraia is trustworthy as well as Licia if she is not around somebody she has feelings for.
 
On the discussion of this part, I once again learned Skein and I do not work well together as she offered little ‘guiding’ help. This will come up again in a more major way and further cements my thinking of her Herald is nothing more than…
 
Her ability to answer a simple question in such a pivotal moment with little more than a shrug vexes me. Why am I the only Champion to have such a stubborn herald they have to speak to. The context for that will be explained later.
 
Eventually, this task finished as well. The Harp separating our two groups once again. Leaving us to deal with Heralds. Through our connection to our god and by extension the Heralds. Those that stood in front of us were nothing more than counterfeits. Though from my personal experience Skein’s counterfeit was damn near close to the real. Even going so far as to target me and killing Celuriel in the process. Thankfully she was brought up by the quick weaving of spells. I drew on Pharasma’s power far more than I would like to construct a bridge albeit temporarily back to my mythic powers. It was not an easy fight and Skien was more a hassle than I would have thought. Thought that is to be expected, she is the herald of the goddess of Death. We faced every Hearld that a Champion could contact.
 
Skein
Sunlord Thalachos
The Grand Defender
The Night Monarch
The First Blade
The Personification of Fury
 
Each of them fell, with considerable effort on our part. While my attacks did little against Pharasma’s False Herald. It felt rather satisfying to release a simple disintegrate, watching it’s light touch her force sphere that protects her. The last false herald on the field. Allowing my comrade to deal the final blow. Let bards and storytellers depict these fights if they ever get their hands on this book. I will remember these fights as they were, not some fight of fantasy. We were people way in over our heads and at this point fighting more to stay alive than anything else. Heralds, constructed by this shard or not, are still extensions of their gods. All terrifying in their divine nature.
 
These false heralds are still a pale comparison to those forgotten shades.
 
Strangely enough on this small island where we fought against false heralds. It was not the shard that took us to another plane, it was Syrin. Who tore open a hole in reality, eyes glowing silver and a black crown on top of his head, bleeding from it. It was also around this time that we also received a boost. It’s hard to explain, it felt like burning. Powerful, and bursting with arcane energy, but no explanation was given as to where this gift was granted from. The others also received a boost as well.
 
Syrin and Sonja’s group offered a small moment of rest for us if we passed through the portal, as they continued to fight animated objects falling from the ceiling. We took an hour to sleep and rest, hidden away in a room of Azrise’s icy construction. He was floating there smug as usual. This rest seemed to have completely healed us. Strange these mythic powers.
 
It’s hard to describe what happened next, inside Azsire’s icy shield the musical portal was placed on the floor. Someone pulled themselves through it. I assumed this might have been a ploy from the shard in an attempt to teach us their story.
 
While not in this journal I have spoken about the Barrier that holds back the corruption of Tenaerul. How the former champion of Iomedae selflessly sacrificed herself to raise a powerful barrier. Which I might add, has had another god power it since the Inheritor’s fall. While I had knowledge of this I never came across the name or could not remember her name.
 
Ypolita.
 
It was she who stood in front of us, ripped out of time. Eyes burning in their silver color. At first, I assumed she was nothing more than a false version of herself. The Champion was cautious as anyone should be, as she expected to be fighting the Betrayers. Not find more champions she had not recognized. Taking the chance to speak with her, I took a moment to look at her soul, still unsure if she was who she said she was. As I still do not understand how to read a soul properly, I know one thing to be certain about a champion's soul. Only one person can be connected to a god like we are. She was still connected to Iomedae of the past, but her soul seemed off. Flickering or better yet struggling to be. Her soul burned bright, with flames and swords dancing around, but the silver and black cord was new. I had yet to see that. How can people's souls be so vastly different? While I understand that statement to be ludicrous, to begin with, each soul is in fact different. Champions also have their souls effect in a manner of speaking, as do those chosen by Avatar’s but some things still do not add up. Like that black shell on Syrin’s soul. Shells not right, orb would be a better description, the Silver sparks leaping off of their souls.
Once again I am getting off-topic, quite easy given everything that happened while we battle the harp. Honestly, just this adventure to find and deal with the harp could be a novel in itself. However, I should still speak about the walking temporal problem that Inheritor’s former champion caused.
We gave very little information about the future but still had to ask questions to understand where Yoplita came from. This battle between the Champions and gods took place before the Worldrend, in fact, it took place before Terra Arcana’s tragic end. It seemed she came from a time where Terra Arcana still existed.
We all came to the decision not to reveal too much in case this does in fact affect our timeline.
 
We had learned other important details, Yoplita had been alive during the capture of the Voice, the reason for the Eldest to take champions for the first time.
 
We asked about the other champions she was meant to battle this treat with. Noting that most of the champions here, their predecessors were also her allies in this fight. As well as some of the other gods one would expect in such a major fight. Save for one. Ypolita had turned me, saying that it seems Pharasma had finally chosen a champion.
 
I am Pharasma’s first champion.
 
At that current moment, it felt like a part of the world had been turned upside down but I couldn’t figure out why. I have my suspicion and it is a question I had asked her myself. Still, who knows when it comes to her, she is the goddess of Death and Fate. She lives up to every title she is given.
 
Titles huh… I need to tell Celuriel about that.
 
With our question not really exhausted the champion asked if we would be helping. The final push before we arrived at the harp.
 
We leaped into a world twisted, warped, and distorted. No grass covered the hills, instead, patches of bright colors littered the ground. A large hole comically sized where it seemed those animated objects that fought the other group fell through. Strange objects sticking out of the ground as if they were meant to be there. The bridge that led to a normal-ish castle in distance had been replaced with a strip of piano keys. This whole constructed arena was jarring to look at but we set our mind to the task ahead. Even the music was tense in the air, and for the first time, I was not sure we could trust it. We have always had music to follow us in battle, in traveling and more. However our enemy was the Harp so not even Music we have grown so accustomed to can not be trusted. To get to the castle that hopefully held the Harp, swarms of nutcrackers, and chess pieces blocked out the way. One last push, I had thought.
 
I was wrong.
 
We systematically took care of each of the pieces ahead of us. Targeting the casters, the rooks I believe. I honestly cannot recall, most of it was steel and magic. They were troubling as they were casting a dangerous amount of higher tier spells. Sending down falling stars to deal with us. The swarms were dealt with hastily with fire, and the chess pieces were dispatched with a fair amount of effort. The music was coming from some invisible playing construct. One of them was destroyed but I was not sure if there was another.
 
We stepped across the bridge stopping outside the castle gate, as it occurred to us, when describing the fight it was not what Ypolita saw. Kraia and I asked her to touch her shoulder, what the Inheritor’s Champion was normal and not as terrifying. Looking behind us to a war-torn field, with mounds of bodies. Far more than we had taken out. The castle looked far worse in this version than the warped castle of crystals and off cartoonish mushrooms that grew off some of the sides. I have to question if the Shard is masking her vision or is Fate itself? We steeled ourselves and opened the door taking a few steps. It led into the courtyard with another door which led into the true castle.
 
A single shot rang out, dropping Licia with a near-perfect bullet in the middle of her forehead.
 
Dead.
 
Moments extended and stilled as Celuriel channeled her power to freeze this moment in time. We were no longer alone, as the shades had shown themselves.
 
Ypolita commented that she had expected seven gods, not six. The Seventh as she said ran away as they always do.
 
I could go on and describe them, those forgotten to history. They to our vision were warped and destroyed like the land around us. For example, the shade that would the Spirit Blade was some dragon humanoid toy with a large plastic sword, however once we place a hand on Ypolita. We still could not see their true visage while we could still see their true self. Something blocked their face. The Blade was a draconic humanoid with two dark wings, towering in size, and a blade that looked all too familiar. A blade I once thought I could steal, that I once held during that reforging, my interaction with it was partially the cause for Silver coming into existence.
I have detailed the Shade that was clear The Blade. The Statue overgrown with plants was the Gem I believe. The Harp was the woman with blue fairy wings carrying an instrument of their name. As for the March, she was a purplish devil with wings. As for the two remainings, there was Angel, who glowed with a blue light instead of typical golden. The last being the gunslinger, I want to say it was some sort of Axians. Then the last one was missing. The Seventh. I know who the Seventh is but their name alone causes enough trouble. As loud as we are I would not wish to drag their eye in our direction, regardless of the form they take.
 
If I recall, Celuriel had drawn on mythic powers and I bolstered those with Pharasma’s Resurrection subdomain in order to bring back Licia. We each took our spots, cast our spells, and for a few summoned allies in the form of heralds. Sunlord Thalachos and The First Blade would join us in this battle. For a moment I thought of asking Skein for help, but the moment passed. Neither her nor I have ever seen eye to eye, she would have caused unnecessary complications. Especially given what I know what happened to The March.
 
We moved around the courtyard and ready ourselves, our blades in our hand. Spells coursing through our veins, and tired beyond belief. Time moved forward and we took our stand against long-forgotten gods.
For a majority of the fight, I simply flung spells as adamantite clashed and gunshots rang out. I found myself near Ypolita on more than one occasion during the brawl, which led me to a rather interesting idea. While I could not deal any finish blows that could render these shades destroyed. I could however point Ypolita in the correct direction. The Statued Druid had cast several spells that caused walking to be damn near impossible. I took a step off of the castle's walls, removing myself from the Celuriel company, drawing on my arcane reservoir to a dimensional slide next to her. For somebody who showed great disdain for Arcane magic, a person who was fighting against the spread of the arcane. I was shocked that she was willing to let me cast Dimensional Door on her. As she was one of the people who was affected the most by The Gem’s land disrupting spells. The Inheritor’s Chosen of course chose the largest of her foes, The Blade. Most of my time in the battle was ushering her around or moving around. I knocked out quite often, and was healed by Celuriel who I was thankful was nearby on several occasions.
 
The Blade eventually fell to Ypolita or Artemis I could not tell you. As well as the Druid, and The Gunslinger. That Axian was a dangerous foe that required him to be Dimensional locked down as we moved around just as much as I did. Thankfully Celu had summoned a portion of her Mythic power to bind the Axian. Then The Spirit Blade again, as it mimicked its rebirth in the material plane. Each time one of these and Shaded Gods had fallen, they had released some giant burst of energy. Save for The Spirit Blade which came back from their first apparent death. Still, I wonder What kind of Dragon God were you? Who were these gods? The March and Harp were the last ones we had to deal with as The First Blade, and our Angels had kept the other three The Blue Angel included. That portion of the fight had broken out of the courtyard and back into those twisted lands.
At this point I was near death, the only reason I had not died or gone down more than the several times I had. Was because of Buydyr’s new ability. As a champion, he was given a special ability which was to shield. In the form of a protective charm of sorts, in my case, it was an iron ring. He would take half of all my pain when somebody had attacked me. Celuriel made a comment about the Dwarf giving her Fiance a ring. It is a little note but it is an important one for a handful of reasons.
 
The tides of this fight had been slowly turning in our favor, and the Shades knew that. That being said it was bloody and when the harp fell I could hardly stand after its burst of energy. The March still flew overhead, my friends trying to finish her. The last of the Shades pointed a finger at me. A single green beam raced through the air and struck me.
 
There was not even a thought that had raced through my mind before my body fell apart, dissolving into ash. I cannot even begin to describe the level of pain of having one’s body turn to ash from pure arcane power. If I could change anything about that moment it would that Celuriel was paralyzed and could not do anything but watch.
 
This was likely the same moment that had killed Buydyr if I had to guess. I however had found myself in a black marble room, thankfully not the throne room this time.
Red eyes gleamed down in annoyance as I looked at her. Skein with arms crossed watched me in silence. Then something happened on the Material Plane. The March had died, deciding to take Ypolita with her.
I could feel it, as a soul. Shattered as mine is, I still do not understand how I was able to feel her Death. Knew it was happening across the planes of existence. I could not, would not allow her to die. If this was her, really was her, then she had not raised the barrier. Which affects the timeline massively. This was under the assumption she would return to the past once this shard was dealt with. So I had to ask Skien a question quickly.
 
“Was this the real Ypolita?”
 
Simple yet dangerously important.
 
Skien deemed me worthy of a shrug. So I made a choice and cast a stone. I have yet to see if the ripples in time will dissipate or become a tidal wave. I once again channeled Pharama’s power to stop this? Change fate? I was not really sure what I saw doing. It had worked though.

In truth, while I do not dabble in time and theory regarding its manipulation. In the most basic sense if the barrier is still standing and without issue. Then nothing really changed in its flow, just a semi-real version of Ypolita, a time remnant was brought forward in time. Our attempt to stop the March from altering something in the past grounded Ypolita in our time. This is not out of the realm of possibility, as something has happened in the with The March. While the Starstone Gods had their ascension undone, nothing about the actions in the pasts as gods had been undone. Everything just moved forward, adjusting according to the new changes.
Skien had made no comment, and I was pulled back into the Material Plane far quicker than I thought I would be. I still felt like I had right before being disintegrated by the March. In pain and hard standing. Thankfully I was brought back with everything intact, The Voice being there was something I had not expected. The Eldest in his red coat, and combed black hair. My guess is she used her one favor from him. While I would regret it, I had thanked him. Ypolita had noticed The Eldest who was meant to be locked away and was about to start saying something before I yelled for him to leave now.
 
It was nearly over.
 
We could finally almost get some rest. It’s weird to think for me that was less than a couple of days ago me. We still had the shard to deal with.
 
The Harp of Virtue lay behind the door, in their most complete form. While a harp was there, so was a woman who sat playing it. I will list a handful of things. As I wrote before we had not destroyed the shard. This is all according to the harp.
 
~The Seventh had done this to them, turned them into shards.
~She claimed a shadow had been lifted from her, implying the Seventh was in a way still manipulating them.
~They could not remember their name.
~They were fighting to protect arcane magic.
~She did not know if what had been done could be undone.
~The Seventh is...
~Which Ypolita feels like she should but the name does not ring a bell.
 
I just had an idea, I wonder how close to a useful idea it was. Binding and all.
Eventually when we could not speak any longer, then some concerning Youshi and the Android he was possessing decided to be her voice. Azsire took the Shard and placed it inside a demiplane, pulling us out of the Shard’s created world. How strong is this snow elf?
 
Then we could rest, for my own personal reason. I took it upon herself to speak with Ypolita. As I hold myself personally responsible for some of the troubles she will be facing in the future. I sat next to her pulling out a bottle of alcohol saying she would probably need it once I was done explaining things. Telling her not to use her champion powers that much till we could fully explain what had happened to her. As she needs to be brought up to date with. Something I planned on checking once I was done shopping…
Today is going to be one of those days.
 
The Harp’s Tale
 
The dawn now breaks on horizons above
The day now brings tears of loss and love
Six stand alone, their hope, their cause:
Worthy? they claim, descending the floors,
Seven now eight bring war, not peace
Ever afraid of the truth in grief
Three stand bare, their hearts their own
To love, to kill, to lie under stone.
Six and eight and three - take two
Leave them here to speak of you
Families, partners, allies, and foes
If none are left then nobody knows
Unknown death, a mystery assured
A familiar fate to try and ignore
Let six and nine walk through this gate
To face their judge and mysterious fate
Let those who walk the path of dreams
Take darkness by the hand and lead
Let those who walk in Holy light
Take up their Arms and join the fight
A song is born, your actions true
Be promised they'll remember you
Should you shatter this symphony
In turn, do not forget me
As you don your robes and armour
Do not forget what happened with Xaahra.
 
"As the light fells deepest dark
Soon too do dreams awaken stars
A new adventure, full and whole:
Let the planes hear your call.
Veiled in truth, concealed in lies:
To brashly act is to be unwise.
You stand apart yet one in truth
Wearing the scars of your broken youth
Find, fight, kill, change:
What is the path, will they all be the same?
Answer us this and conquer your tale
And be prepared - you should not fail."
 
"Breach the void and rip the planes,
Stir what lies in magic's veins.
Defy your truth, confront their lie,
Take no solace in their sweet lullaby.
This is no time for peace or speeches,
Upon their stage countless rest in pieces.
History's pages blank of knowing,
March on to the music, the art of showing.
What has happened before will happen again,
Til no man alive can tell foe from friend.
Hark - the herald angels sing -
Death upon your new-born kings!
Mortal freedoms worth naught to their gods,
Yet here you stand, against the odds.
What happens now if fate is twisted?
Will they know you ever existed?
Or will your names bend to nothing,
Unheard sounds when men are bluffing?
Enough; they come; their blades are sharp
to sever any who might learn from a harp
Six for nine, they come for all:
prove your full strength, you must not fall!"
 
Beyond these doors is our final stand.
Our hopes, our dreams, to be wiped from the land.
The past stands with you, the future untold
To listen, to see, it is she you must hold.
The law has fallen, no justice upheld
No word of ink will toll these bells
Mask your fear, you brave of souls
Lest you become like we dolls.