The Beacon at Dylath-Leen

Table of Contents

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5

Chapter 1

Flame in the Night looked out into the Howling Wastes, and the Wastes looked back.
A desert of green sand, dunes rising and falling as far as her eyes could see. The broken bones of giant creatures jutted out of the sand like shark fins, worn smooth by the stormy winds and grinding debris. While there was no sun visible in the sky, there was a pervasive light stretching away from her, creating shadows as if it were dusk or dawn. Flay turned slowly, getting her bearings in this alien landscape, and adjusted the spectacles bridging her nose.
Threads of magic spread over the Howling Wastes, but they were strongest further out, and dwindled the closer they got to the barrier still partially around her. She had to take the spectacles off to look at Mirror, lest it blind her eyes, but even without them she could see the power there. The Howl beat against it, guided by wind and sand, and the Mirror stood firm, as it had for ages before her.
When she turned back, Roger Glipglorp was waiting for her just outside the barrier.

Flay: "What the heck?"
Roger Glipglorp (Haze): "Good evening, my guys, gals, and non-binary pals! It's me, the Haze, manifesting as Roger Glipglorp!"

Flay tilted her head, using one hand to put the spectacles back to her eyes, the other trailing down to the hilt of Brightsever.

Brightsever: "Fear not. It is as it appears."

The glasses confirmed as much, now tuned with a wealth of knowledge Flay had gained during her Apotheosis. A nexus of dream magic, ever-present across the Infinity Petal, consolidated into the single entity before her. If she were to approach, her body could pass right through it, and those besides Flay would likely only see a humanoid outline instead of Roger's face.

Flay: "Why Roger?"
Roger Glipglorp (Haze): "Why, what an excellent question, Flay! Let's get right to the bottom of this..."

Roger came forward, stopping right at the barrier of the Mirror, but close enough that she could hear him whisper.

Roger Glipglorp (Haze): "Because this is a big, dark, and scary place, and I thought we could use some humor!"
Flay: "Pick a different one, please."
Roger Glipglorp (Haze): "No."
Flay: "No? Fine. I command you."

Flay felt her dominion over the Haze spread from her mind, and push into the land of dreams. But it was different on the Other Side, and she found something new in the Haze... A spark of defiance, the pressure of another entity in the sleeping mind. Brightsever did the mental equivalent of a shrug, leaving Flay to consult the spectacles instead. Her vision went black for a moment, as she bridged the gap between her psyche and that within the glasses, forming only a brief connection with the being inside.

Flay: "Hey, uh, Aroden?"
Aroden: "Yes, Flame in the Night?"
Flay: "What's going on with the Haze?"

Aroden muttered, and there was a shuffling of pages that echoed oddly in the mindscape.

Aroden: "You are on the Other Side. The Haze has followed you, but it is a place, and must anchor to one to maintain its ethereal presence here. Thus, it has connected itself to the Doldrums."
Flay: "...meaning?"
Aroden: "Meaning you're stuck with Roger Glipglorp."

Flay let her consciousness float back out of the spectacles, and pinched the bridge of her nose. When she opened her eyes properly again, Roger Glipglorp was still there, smiling geekily, a microphone with no cord dangling in his hand. She counted to three, giving herself time for a deep breath, and then processed the situation. If the Haze had followed her here...

Flay: "Why are you here at all?"
Roger Glipglorp (Haze): "Bang! Boop! Glipgloop! Now that's a zinger! I — that is, the Haze, manifesting as Roger Glipglorp — am here to escort you to Paradise! Across the Howling Wastes, towards the mighty Doldrums, across the fabled In Between, and deep into the Cosmic Squall! It's a cruise for the ages, ladies and gentlemen!"
Flay: "That's all? I don't need you for that, I have a compass."

Flay raised up her right palm to show him, but paused as the needle twisted violently with the turn of her wrist. She shuffled left and then right, holding the compass at different angles, and then groaned towards the sky. The Howl answered back, muffled by the barrier of the Mirror.
The compass pointed unerringly at Roger Glipglorp.

Flay: "Haze."
Roger Glipglorp (Haze): "Yes! Or should I say... Yes?"
Flay: "Take me to the Doldrums."
Roger Glipglorp (Haze): "Oh, ding dong diddley! Let's get ready, everybody! And awayyyyyy. We. Go!"

Roger about-faced towards the Wastes, clapping his hands together for extra effect, and pointed straight into the desert.
The howling winds shuffled some of the sand at Roger's feet. Nothing else moved for miles around.

Flay: "Haze."
Roger Glipglorp (Haze): "Yes, oh Queen of Dreams?"
Flay: "I said, take me. To the Doldrums."
Roger Glipglorp (Haze): "Oh... Well. They're over there."
Flay: "Over there."
Roger Glipglorp (Haze): "Right."
Flay: "How do we get 'over there'?"

A bead of sweat tumbled down the back of Roger's bald head, and fizzled as it touched the Mirror.

Roger Glipglorp (Haze): "We... Well, you see. We... We walk?"

Flay didn't say anything. Roger gulped.

Chapter 2

There was a shimmer at the edge of the Howling Wastes, imperceptible without Flay's glasses, that marked the barrier between the Wastes and the Doldrums. They'd been traveling through the desert for days — over the meandering dunes, past the dens of strange beasts, and around the clouds of green miasma — the Haze's directions always matching with that of the Navigator's compass. All in search of this gap between worlds.
She'd learned early on that blocking her hearing would save her from the Howl, but not Roger Glipglorp.

Roger Glipglorp (Haze): "Wowza! Would you look at that, Flay! We did it!"

Flay tried to pull Brightsever out of its sheath for the second time in the last thirty seconds, and the blade refused to budge.
After a moment of peace-seeking, she walked towards the edge between dimensions, observing the energies that transferred between the two. The glasses reported a wealth of illusion magic, but through her divinity she felt the spellwork of dreaming. But unlike the Dreamlands, there was a stillness to it... A lethargic beat instead of her familiar, creative burst of imagination. The Doldrums, indeed.

Flay: "Haze. Tell me more about the Doldrums."
Roger Glipglorp (Haze): "Why certainly! They are the closest thing to the Dreamlands here on the Other Side, home to Aergia, the Queen of Lethargy. She's everything you're not! Lazy, calm, gentle..."
Flay: "Stick to the highlights."
Roger Glipglorp (Haze): "Y- Yes, ma'am. The Doldrums are the place where nothing happens. Dreamers are given peace, instead of the night terrors of the Candy Coast. Unlike our world, nightmares are more common than dreams, courtesy of the Dream Eater — think what would happen if the lords of Leng invaded the Dreamlands."
Flay: "Where does this portal go exactly?"
Roger Glipglorp (Haze): "Why, the court of Aergia! She moved the door here when Jestyr invaded the Mortal Realm, in order to keep the dreaming safe."

Flay nodded, staring out across the sand, and adjusted the strap that held Brightsever close to her body.

Flay: "Better there than here."

She stepped through, her back foot digging into the sand, her next step colliding with solid ground.
The grass was a mix of gray-green, decorating slow-rising hills that stretched out as far as she could see. The sky was gray, the sunlight was muted, and the wind was eerily silent, despite the feeling of it playing across her fur. It was not unlike the Howling Wastes, minus a few key attributes, and Flay's newfound senses told her that the planar nexus could exist here for that very reason. The only notable landmark was a low point in the hills to her right, barely a few hundred yards from where she stood, where a dainty tree sprouted from the ground. There were glass orbs hanging from the branches, twinkling in a rainbow of multi-colored lights, which Flay's spectacles immediately recognized as souls.
Roger was uncharacteristically quiet, his green skin now the same gray-green color of the grass, as if a filter had been applied over his body. Normally she would question it, but recent events made this an exception.
She walked towards the tree, her feet molding pleasantly with the earth, and the Haze followed lazily. The wind ruffled the leaves of the tree, and Flay spotted light coming from within the tree itself, escaping through hollow spots in the trunk. There was magic all over them, but not of the kind Flay was used to. It wasn't based on the schools of magic, or the traditional elements, but was similar enough that Flay got the message — Touch Me Without Permission = Die A Terrible Death. As she got closer to the tree, the runes that formed the warding became visible to the naked eye, with notable threads going to the glass orbs above her.
Roger stopped just shy of the tree's shadow, a lethargic smile plastered across his face, but Flay pressed on, treading lightly until she reached the largest hollow in the trunk. Within the tree itself, a woman hung from vines and roots streaming down, the dull light of additional orbs lighting her face. She was snoring when Flay arrived, but after a moment she jerked awake, one eye catching on Flay, the other lilting back into sleep.

Flay: "Uh... Hi."
Aergia: "Hi..."

The tree above Flay shook gently in the wind, and the wards around the trunk faded ever so slightly. Seconds passed in silence, the rulers of slumber staring back and forth at each other, until Flay gave in.

Flay: "I'm looking for Paradise. Do you know how to get there?"
Aergia: "I do..."
Flay: "Could you tell me how to get there?"
Aergia: "I could..."

Flay smiled sweetly, in a way that was not so sweet.

Flay: "Will you?"
Aergia: "Sure... Just go to the Earworm Door... It'll take you In Between..."
Flay: "Okay... How do I get to the Earworm Door?"

The Queen of Lethargy barely lifted her arm, pointing to her left, opposite the way Flay had arrived.

Aergia: "Just think about... The end of days... The passing of time... And walk that way..."
Flay: "Cool... Thanks, I guess?"
Aergia: "My pleasure, sister dream... I would collect payment... But I am..."

Aergia's head dipped, the vines straining to support her, and the lights within the glass orbs dimmed even further. The goddess of the Doldrums began to murmur, and Flay tilted her head to listen in.

Aergia: "Just don't forget... Dreams have only one owner... At a time... That's why dreamers... Are lonely..."

Flay raised an eyebrow, and her stomach roiled uncertainly. Something about the statement riled her, but it was a memory of Desna, not Flay, and the two were not yet fully one and the same. But Aergia began to snore once more, pulling her from her thoughts, and the feeling passed. She looked back to Roger, and found him even more gray than before. She thought about leaving him before her moral conscience took over, and then grabbed his hand, guiding him away from Aergia's court.
Then they walked, Flay leading, Roger following behind, his steps growing lighter the further they got from the tree. The landscape never changed, and often Flay found herself wondering if they were stuck in a loop. But it wasn't hard to fill her mind with thoughts of the end of days, and over time the hills became a little more green, the wind a little louder, the sun brighter. In the distance, she spotted a broken statue nestled into a trio of hills, the stone head half-buried into the ground.
The face appeared to be Human, but it had a third eye in the center of its forehead, and its ears ended in points where earlobes should be. The fully-exposed ear was expertly crafted, somehow pristine despite being open to the elements, revealing a spiral hole into the statue itself. While she wasn't certain, Flay's gut told her there as a door there, one that would take her to the In Between.

Roger Glipglorp (Haze): "We've been here before, you know..."

Flay jumped — it was the first time Roger had spoken in hours.

Roger Glipglorp (Haze): "...Before. With Rufus."
Flay: "I don't remember."

Roger's expression twisted into a melancholy smile, his eyes full of a memory.

Roger Glipglorp (Haze): "That's alright."

Flay watched him for a bit, but he seemed to meander into his own thoughts, lost in whatever vision the Haze was manifesting. Then she took his hand again, and together they climbed the statue's head, and crawled into its skyward-facing ear. There was a door there, as Flay had somehow knew there would be, made of a gray wood with a thick, winding grain. The doorknob was made of glass, a little soul flickering inside it, which brightened as Flay arrived.
She took the orb into her hand, feeling its warmth spread down her arm, and twisted the handle.

Chapter 3

Another soul screamed past Flay, howling into the thick, amber mist that defined the In Between. There were thousands of them nearby, all moaning and weeping, using a dialect of the common tongue she could barely understand. While the voices and colors of these souls all differed, they all lamented the same thing.

Unknown Spirit: "Paradise—"
Unknown Spirit: "—is—"
Unknown Spirit: "—lost."

Flay dodged as one spirit came to close, being careful not to let it touch her. She'd already made that mistake once before, and the result was... Unpleasant. She'd seen flashes of the woman's life on the Mortal Realm, and her work on a series of barges meant to take mankind away from Jestyr and the forces of Carnival. From what Flay could tell, the woman had succeeded, but she'd stayed behind to fend off the invading forces while the rest of her family escaped.
Then the vision had turned, and the woman saw some of Flay's life... About her parents, and her cousins, and the Ikal Expanse. When she took up the White Flame, and made a pact with Brightsever. When she chose to remain in Tyrnog to protect her own people, and let the Jestyr go free.

Unknown Spirit: "A pox on you, Queen of Faerie. May you never know peace."

Roger drifted close to Flay, breaking her out of the memory — which seemed to cling to her here in the In Between — and pointed straight ahead.

Roger Glipglorp (Haze): "Everybody's a critic. Just focus on being a star!"

She nodded, shouldering her pack and adjusting Brightsever, and continued wading through the souls, focusing on the journey ahead. According to the Haze, she was looking for an "anchor" in the In Between known as Thamau's Leap, where legends tell of mortals finding Paradise at the beginning of time. Aroden had confirmed that legends might be true, especially if they originated before the Twilight War — whatever that meant.
All she knew was that she had to get there, and hope that the jump would take her to Chamas.
Flay walked for hours, finding that she was never hungry or thirsty here, but that she did grow tired. There was an aching here In Between, and it radiated through her body as she traveled, making her muscles sore and her body weak. It helped not to think about it, focusing only on the concept of Thamau's Leap, but that was difficult given the souls, of which Flay had to keep a cautious eye, and move out of the way when needed.
If she hadn't been scanning for so long, and her eyes weren't so tired, she might have caught the spirit sneaking up behind them.
It hit her in the back, a soul the color of tarnished gold, erupting partially from her chest before the visions began. Roger started to say something, the Haze crowing in alarm, but it was a warning too late, and she fell a layer down into the Between.

---

They were on an ornate patio, not unlike where Patyr's ghost called home in the Rambling Road, but the designs were of a completely different culture, and the trees had died long ago. It was a sad, windswept place, the stones worn away by the centuries, the name of the structure they created long-since forgotten. The origin of this memory — a hulking, armored man in his forties — was facing the sea of empty branches, and twirled one half of a broken Crook in his remaining hand.
Through the Haze, she knew his name was Keltor, the Last Shepherd of the Mortal Realm.

Keltor: "It's you. Flame in the Night."

Keltor looked back, and Flay stifled a gasp. His eyes were gone, the raw wounds gaping open where the Jester had plucked them from his head. Flay recognized him then, from a nightmare she'd had in the past. When Jestyr had fully taken the Mortal Realm, and then turned the beasts of Carnival back towards Tyrnog. Like the woman she'd met before, he too had stayed behind...

Flay: "That's me. What do you want?"
Keltor: "You're not here for us. That I can tell by your path... Paradise?"
Flay: "Maybe. Maybe not."

Keltor emitted a dry chuckle, revealing a set of square teeth covered in blood.

Keltor: "The Leap won't take you there. But I can show you another way..."
Flay: "Right... And how much is that going to cost me?"

The smile on Keltor's face remained, but deepened into something bitter.

Keltor: "The XS Pierce. I assume you've seen it?"

Flay almost replied, but the Haze stepped in, recalling the life of the mechanic. The barge... It had that name branded on the side, in letters big enough to rival a small skyscraper. It would be the final ship to leave the Mortal Realm, waiting until the last possible moment to escape. A beacon of hope for the flight of mankind. Keltor grunted, his suspicions confirmed by her silence.

Keltor: "There's a boy on that ship. An agent of Jestyr. They planted him there, just before the barge took off."
Flay: "Tommen."
Keltor: "The very same. But he's not as you remember him — this is the beginning of his monstrous life. If he gets away, it'll all repeat again... The XS Pierce will reach Far Shore, and only Tommen will be left to wake the sleepers. He'll keep feeding the Worm, although he won't even remember it at the time. They'll call him a saint..."

Keltor's bitter smile turned into a snarl, and his knuckles popped as he clenched his only hand. The Haze showed more of him then, of the life he would live if Flay turned him down. He would cling to this hatred, which would feed into the dwindling Mantle of the Walker, only to feed him again as he regained mortal life in the next iteration — without the knowledge the Mantle gave. He would defy time and space to end this universe, angry without knowing why, committing atrocity after atrocity in the name of peace. The Haze showed his remaining hand covered in black, as if dipped in ink, before the vision faded.
But to help him was to abandon Chamas... To let him be Moscaroth again. It would kill Abelina, and break Mist's heart.

Flay: "I don't have time to go hunting with you. I need to get to my friends."
Keltor: "And how will you get to them?"
Flay: "...I make my own way."

For a moment, Flay thought Keltor was going to charge her, but then his shoulders softened. His fist opened, a drop of blood falling from his eyes onto his palm. He turned back to the dead forest, which began to fade as his soul finished passing through her.

Keltor: "Suit yourself, Cylia. Until we meet again..."

---

The spirit shot off like a bullet through the In Between, the other souls diving out of the way as it went. Roger scowled at the thing — which looked more goofy than intimidating — and then turned his eye stalks towards Flay.

Roger Glipglorp (Haze): "Well! How are you feeling? Do we need to cut to commercial?"
Flay: "I'm fine. Are we almost—"

She turned, and there it was.
Out of the amber mist, a stone cliff formed up out of the ground, stretching higher and higher, the fury of the Cosmic Squall beneath it. Wind caught in her fur, both warm and cold in gusts, carrying the smell of earth and sea as it passed. It was eerily quiet, as if the wind were coming through a window on the other side of a large room, rather than the gale before her. The ache of being In Between faded a little, just in time for a nervous feeling to punch her in the gut. It was a massive drop, into a storm unlike anything she'd ever seen, with no perceptible bottom. Little bits of stone fell from the Leap as she approached, and the debris didn't last long before being shredded into dust. After a few more stops, she realized Roger had stopped.

Flay: "What's wrong?"
Roger Glipglorp (Haze): "I can't go with you."
Flay: "Why not?"
Roger Glipglorp (Haze): "I'll tear like an old pair of jeans on a festival day!"
Flay: "What? That doesn't make any sense."
Roger Glipglorp (Haze): "I don't know! You try being an entire dimension manifesting through a slug-snail man on the opposite side of the universe! I just can't go with you! Curtains closed! We'll see you next time, folks! Kapeesh?"

Flay didn't know what to say. Roger was annoying beyond imagination, but the Haze was a useful ally. It'd been with her in one way or another since her journey started, since her first blessing by the Dreamer.
But she'd been alone before, and she could do it again.

Flay: "Thank you, Haze."
Roger Glipglorp (Haze): "Bye bye, Flay."

She took off her glasses, tucking them into a safe place in her armor, and adjusted Brightsever so that it was strapped directly down the front of her chest. It was awkard, but it would give her the best chance of catching it in case the straps came loose. She wrapped a separate strap through her backpack and around her wrist for good measure, and made sure all the clasps of her suit were closed tight. She clicked on her helmet, double-checking those clasps as well, and removed all HUDs in order to increase her visibility.
A single, steadying breath.
Flay ran, climbing Thamau's Leap in a dozen strides, and dove into the Cosmic Squall below.

Chapter 4

The maelstrom was endless.
It tore at her armor, slicing the straps around her body to pieces within seconds. She'd barely had time to catch onto Brightsever, now taking up one of her hands, giving her fewer opportunities to block the wave of debris soaring at her. Pieces of ancient trees, stones the size of bullets, and bits of bone pelted her, held aloft by atmospheric winds and serpentine tides of salt water. The dust followed, clinging to her helmet as it stuck to the water, and jamming her suit's sensors.
Flay tried to wipe it away with her free hand, but was shocked to find her glove was covered in blood, which smeared the mess even further. She searched frantically for a wound, her body now tumbling end-over-end, but found nothing piercing her suit.

Brightsever: "It's raining blood."

She huffed, using her suit sleeve to clean the faceplate instead, which granted her some of her vision back. Of course. Blood rain. Why not? It was there among the sky and sea, pelting her in random spurts as she fell through the Squall, rending the outside of her suit to pieces. Lockette was going to have a field day fixing those panels — if they could even be saved.

Flay: "I can't see anything!"
Brightsever: "There's nothing to see... It's just the Squall."
Keltor: "The Leap won't take you there..."
Flay: "Shut up!"

Flay took a few quick breaths, trying to focus the adrenaline pumping into her system. The suit started squawking about her heart rate, which she disabled with a violent gesture. She reached deep inside herself, where the pact of their coven had been branded at the base of her soul.

Flay: "Chamas!"

Silence.

Flay: "Chamas! Abelina!"

A rock the size of a fist collided with the front of her helmet, putting a fracture from one end of the polycarbonate visor to the other. Flay went for the tape in her bag, only to remember that it had been lost in the storm. She tumbled again, and Brightsever's sheath went flying off into the Squall, revealing the blade within. It was like a dim candle against the backdrop, visible only because its light was stable relative to the chaos around them.

Flay: "Brightsever! What do I—"

Flay collided with something big. It knocked the wind out of her, Brightsever tumbling out of her hand. Her visor burst open from the force of it, and the Squall rushed in.
Everything went dark. For a moment, all was quiet.

Chamas: "Warden... I'm trying."
Nicodemus: "Try harder!"

Chamas arrived in the darkness, his skin the color of obsidian, his eyes the white of bone. He was missing his left hand, an eerie symmetry to Keltor's wound, his chest heaving with labored breath. A pale, sickly figure was draped around his back, clutching his chin with a decrepit hand, whispering spells and threats into his ear. It was Nicodemus... The spirit within Chamas' strange book. She couldn't tell if he was helping or hurting Chamas, but one thing was certainly clear.
Chamas' Apotheosis had begun.

Flay: "Chamas!"

He didn't react — he couldn't hear her. Nicodemus stirred, something in his supernatural senses writhing, but he was too focused on the task at hand. A shadow rose up behind them, somehow darker than the darkness they were already in, striding forth on three, massive legs.
Moscaroth.

Chamas: "I'm losing it."
Nicodemus: "Get it together! If you go, so do I!"
Chamas: "Oh— Oh gods. I see him."
Nicodemus: "Think of what he'll do in Paradise! What he'll do to Abelina!"
Chamas: "He's so small..."
Flay/Nicodemus: "Chamas!"

The shadow came closer, its white eyes a perfect match to its prey, its draconic beak splitting to reveal rows upon rows of serrated teeth.

Chamas: "Elminster... Father... Please."
Flay: "Behind you!"
Chamas: "Don't take his laughter. Anything but that."
Nicodemus: "Shit! Wake up, you idiot! You still have this life to live!"

Nicodemus leaned in, as Moscaroth leaned in, and two sets of teeth clamped into Chamas' shoulder. He bucked, gasping with the pain, as fangs pierced into both his flesh and soul. Chamas stumbled to his knees, clenched fists falling into open hands, palms cast up at the dark nothing of a sky. Nicodemus reeled back, blood coating his teeth, only now realizing what was behind them.

Chamas: "I am the roots that bind the earth..."
Nicodemus: "Chamas, he's here! You need to choose!"
Chamas: "I am the wind in the branches..."
Nicodemus: "Chamas! Wake up!"

Wake up?
He was dreaming!

???: "You're not sure how long you've been asleep... But something stirs you."
Chamas: "I am the leaf among many..."

Nicodemus screamed, his manifestation in the dream torn away as the Taker cast him aside.

Aergia: "Dreams have only one owner... At a time..."
Chamas: "I am the tree that eats the sun, the tree that spreads the shade..."

Suddenly there was no Moscaroth, there was no Chamas. The two were one and the same, so alike that one could not tell them apart.

???: "—the rest of his body is a halo of hands, all struggling to reach an orb hovering where his head should be."
Chamas: "I take what is mine."

Flay howled, pulling upon the dream, and felt something snap within her.

Desna: "We were meant to be a beacon!"

Brightsever snapped into her fist, lighting up the darkness, pulled into reality by the sheer force of her will.

"W̸̪̒̏̀̈́̚͝h̶̩̱̀̏̌̆͝i̶̪͉̫̙̹͙̻͖̓̑̽̋̉̀̇̈͘͜͝t̸̟̲̦̞̼̔ͅe̷̡̨̛͚̹̠͔̤̫͕͙̩̭̙̟͇̓̌̓̑̈́̍̓̈́̇͆͒̀͝͠ ̴̧̪̬̹̫̪̏̄̃̐̕F̷̼͙́̇͗͘l̴̢̛͓̟̓̎͒̒̈́̄͊̆̎́͝͝ä̶̡̨̢̖̹̥̦͈͉́͆̎͒̚͝m̴̨̡̡̰̫̺̥̜̳̺͖̼̻̄̑̍̓͋̈́̚͘͘͝ͅẹ̵̉͌͗̌͛̀͂̆!"

One became two, and the two were separated. Moscaroth's claws dug into the dreaming, attempting to find a foothold, but each time he found one it fell away. Chamas screamed, blood running from his eyes, holding his head as if it might fall apart. At last his gaze locked on Flay, but he didn't have the breath to call her name. She leaned into the dream, letting destiny take over, the power of the gods flooding her veins.

---

At the height of Thamau's Leap, they say a ghost formed at the end of the Mortal Realm. She howled into the In Between, and demanded that it open. A sea of spirits bowed to the will of a god, spreading like the tides of the sea, and opened a way to Land of Dreams. The shout died, becoming a swarm of butterflies, which fluttered across the Doldrums with the speed of Angel wings. Aergia watched as it went, the wind passing through her branches, and granted each butterfly a kiss, wishing each a safe journey across the beyond.
Butterflies became hornets, screaming against the Howling Wastes, fighting the beasts and forces that dared stand in their way. It was a bloodbath. Untold bodies littered the floor, until only one remained. But as it reached the Mirror, what was small in stature grew to match the wealth of its spirit, and a panther charged across the gap between worlds.
She roared, pushing the mysteries of the eons away from her, and sunk her teeth into the creatures of the Gray. When at last she arrived in Silence, there was no more screaming to be heard, only the blood of her enemies dripping from her teeth.
In the last legends of the Starborn, they speak of a mighty cat that climbed the Kauma Tree, and looked out into the dark. They tell of the cosmic swirls that glowed beneath her fur, and the starlight in her eyes, and the blood that marked her fangs. They tell of the night she Sang to the Silence, and opened the way to Dream.
Where an old keeper wept in his lighthouse, his task over at long last, as he lit the beacon at Dylath-Leen.

---

The power left her, and reality stretched, a dream within a dream, in part hers to command.

Flay: "The door is opening..."
???: "The door is opening..."

It was there, stretching across the divide. A way back for Chamas, a way back to Mist. Flay pushed at him, straining against the laws of reality that stated he was here, and something pushed against her.
The Apotheosis — it had to complete, for good or for ill, even inside her dream. Flay stumbled, Brightsever now shining through her belly, divine blood falling into the black.

Flay: "Chamas!"

He shook, summoned by the calling of his name, his white eyes widening to disks.

Chamas: "Flay!"
Flay: "Go..."

Chamas looked at her, and down to the sword. Then he looked beyond, to the path ahead of him — the guiding light at Dylath-Leen — and the snarling Moscaroth behind. The fury of the realm left Flay, coalescing around Chamas, and visions assaulted his mind. She knew full well what he was seeing. The weight of the world, the horrors of reality, and the choices that stood before him, demanding an answer. Apotheosis had come to its peak.
She could see pieces of it, her vision blurring as she fell to her knees, the blood loss making her head feel light. His fathers' failures. His dreams to be a guardian, in a world that made him a butcher. The day that Mist chose the universe over a single life, and failed him. The lifetimes of horrors that came after, spread across all of time, as the Outer Gods whispered in his ear.
All of that and more poured into Chamas, and he was drowning. It was too much for a god, let alone a mortal man... Flay tried to crawl forward, and found that her body wouldn't answer, her face sliding to the darkness instead. She saw Chamas only through her upward eye, the other now coated in blood. She saw the men he would be, and the men he could be, and the monster he became. His head fell backwards, his fingernails clawing into his face, his teeth clenched against the pain.

Brightsever: "Flay... I'm sorry."
Flay: "No."
Brightsever: "He's gone."
Flay: "No."
Brightsever: "Flay—"
Flay: "NO!"

The last of Flay's breath left her lungs, the word erupting out of her, colliding with Chamas as if he had been slapped. She lost control of the dream, giving all that she could to her friend, desperate for him to see as she did, to remember as she remembered.
Chamas went slack, his gaze still pointing to the sky, the grinding gone out of his teeth.
His lungs heaved.
Chamas remembered his name.

Chamas: "NO!"

Chamas surged forward, an ethereal hand erupting out of the stump on his arm, his gentle caress capturing the light of Dylath-Leen. But he did not take it... He looked to Flay, his face full of sorrow, tears streaming from his eyes.

Chamas: "I have to go."
Flay: "I know..."
Chamas: "Will you give this to me?"

Flay smiled, and blood streamed between her teeth.

Flay: "It's yours."

The light erupted between Chamas' fingers, as flesh could no longer contain what was within. Flay pushed with all that she had left, and Chamas fled along the light, leaving only a halo where the idea of him remained. Moscaroth screeched, retreating further into the dark, desperate to hide from the brightness.
The beacon swallowed all.

Chapter 5

Flay pushed, and Chamas flew. She strained, even after she could no longer feel his presence, thrusting him forward into the beyond. But... Gods.
It hurt so much.

Annabell: "Hush, now. You're going to Splinter if you don't stop."

She tried to move her jaw, but she couldn't. Her eyes were open, but she couldn't see. A soft hand cupped her cheek, and the pain went away. Flay could tell it hadn't healed her, but everything started to slow down as the aching faded. She released her hold on Chamas, letting him coast the rest of the way, and her body shivered as the power fully left her.

Annabell: "That's it... I suggest you not try anything — you just burned out what was left of your Tether, and this isn't the land of the dead. Do something crazy, and you might just Zero Sum altogether. Understand?"

Flay tried to shake her head, but nothing happened.

Annabell: "Good. Sorry, but I have to go now. That door you opened won't be that way for much longer, and I—"

There was a voice from far away, muffled by some kind of barrier.

???: "What was that? Chamas? Annabell?"

Annabell tsked, and put something beside her.
Brightsever.

Annabell: "This is where we part ways. Next time we meet, we may not be friends... Good luck, Flay."

The sounds of her steps faded, just as two more came close. One was small and dainty, but the other had a longer stride. Then they were running, and hands pressed all against her, inquisitive fingers pressing on her wounds.
Oof.

Abelina: "Flay? Flay! How did you get here?"
Anastasia: "She's been stabbed, but the wound is partially cauterized. Seven sins... What happened to her face?"
Abelina: "Get the medkit!"
Anastasia: "We don't have time! When that Alignment snaps tight, he's going to pull us both with him. We'll be gone long before—"
Abelina: "Damn it! Give me your hair!"
Anastasia: "What?"

There was a small yanking sound, and Anastasia growled. Flay could hear several packs being torn open, and she groaned as Abelina rolled her onto her side, placing some kind of rope around her chest.

Abelina: "No Tether."
Anastasia: "Strangely, good news."
Abelina: "It'll save me some calculations. Fuck me... Flay, you're about to get a dose of cosmic whiplash."
Anastasia: "She's tied down. Get the sword."

Brightsever left her side as soon as it arrived, but she could still feel it close by, tucked into Abelina's pack. The rope around her warmed, which might have been pleasant on another day, but at the moment felt like fire against her wounds. She groaned again, but neither of her companions did anything about it, and kept on with whatever process they had started.

Anastasia: "10 seconds at best."
Abelina: "Don't rush me! I'm nearly there."
Anastasia: "Oh shi—"

Someone tried to pull Flay in half, and she didn't even have the strength to scream.
Against the howling of the wind, Flay found that she could open her eyes again. Brightsever was digging into her ribs, and Abelina's arms were wrapped around her chest. Something was pulling them both through the Cosmic Squall, Anastasia not far behind them, the hail of the elements tearing at their skin and clothes. Then a ball of roots collided with her wound, and the warm blanket of unconsciousness greeted her at last.

---

When she woke, there was no pain. The ceiling above her was made of a white marble, the bed slightly cold to the touch, but contoured to her body in a way that was comforting. As she put a hand to her stomach, she found no wound, only a nasty, twisted scar — one so deep that even magic couldn't heal it. Brightsever was tucked in the corner across the small room, and her spectacles were on the nightstand.
A tall, feminine figure pulled from the shadows by the door. Pulura.

Pulura: "Your friends are safe. You are in the White Palace."
Flay: "Chamas?"
Pulura: "We don't know yet."

Flay nodded, and tried to sit up properly. She found her body sore, but there were no shocks of pain, nor limits to her movement. However... She felt hollow. Something missing from the small of her back, a feeling she'd never felt before. But when she rubbed at it, there was no blemish to be found.

Pulura: "Your Tether is gone."
Flay: "Oh, yeah... Is that bad? Or is it like, bad bad?"
Pulura: "Do you want to go home?"
Flay: "Ah."

Pulura said nothing, opting to shrug instead. She was silent the way Tesin was silent, which was unnerving in of itself, and in its similarity. But it allowed Flay to think — if she ignored the fact that she was being stared at — and to process all that had come to pass. It felt like a dream, and in a way it had been. But it also felt like someone else's dream... As if a different Flay had made those choices.
Flay... Or maybe Desna. Or whatever they had become now that they were together.
She didn't know what to think about that... Only that she had to move forward. She looked up to Pulura, who tilted her head in askance.

Flay: "My friends. Could they meet me here? Is it safe?"

Pulura nodded once, as if Flay had only asked a single question, and not two.

Flay: "Thanks... Is there anything stopping me from dreaming here?"
Pulura: "No."

Then Pulura turned on heel, understanding Flay's intent, and left the room without saying goodbye. Discomfort swirled in Flay's stomach, and in a way, that familiar feeling was a relief. She felt more of herself, more of Flame in the Night, and more at home. She got up slowly, wincing over to the corner, where she pulled Brightsever to her chest. The sword acknowledged her presence, but the spirit inside was silent... It would take some time to recover, and Flay respected his privacy.
On her way back to bed she grabbed the spectacles, putting them over her eyes, and checked the room for any magic. Besides the typical wards in the stone, there was nothing that would watch her activities, and nothing to ensnare her lucid body as it entered into the Dream. It felt strange, not being able to tell if Pulura was lying to her... But there were other ways to find the truth — Pulura was honest, it seemed.
Flay found the thought relaxing, and as she rolled into bed, it felt far more comfortable than when she left it. Her waking body fell asleep within seconds, her lucid essence entering the dream, and the Haze was there to greet her...