Cradle ascension box set, p.28
Cradle: Ascension: Box Set, page 28
Little Blue whistled her own indignation. She sat on Orthos’ back and crossed her arms, looking away from Lindon.
“I ate the pots too.”
“My sincere apologies,” Lindon said, “but it’s very dangerous. I was concerned that you might have been trapped inside.”
Little Blue’s huff wavered. She glanced down to Orthos.
“We were still worried,” Orthos grunted.
Blue nodded.
“I am sorry, but I’m glad you weren’t around for our fight with Reigan Shen.”
Orthos and Little Blue glared at him together.
“We were concerned about you,” Orthos said. “You could have informed us.”
Lindon dipped his head and apologized. They should have been able to sense that he was still alive, even from within a separate space, but he should have kept them aware.
Yerin strolled back to meet them and sat on her heels next to Orthos. “Yeah, we fought a Monarch. Got whipped like the slowest mule, but we didn’t die. So there’s a shiny spot.”
They were all sitting around for a while, waiting for another trapped room to die down. While flames of all colors raged in the next room, they sat in the hallway. Eithan paced back and forth, Mercy cycled, and Ziel loudly snored as he slept.
Lindon filled in Orthos and Little Blue about what had happened since they were locked inside the Dawn Sky Palace. They were a rapt audience, eyes glowing as they listened.
When he finished, Orthos thoughtfully chewed on something for a long moment. “That’s not a bad excuse,” he allowed.
Little Blue clambered up Lindon’s shoulder, chiming about how glad she was that everyone had made it out alive.
The chimes woke Ziel, who rolled over to squint in the spirit’s direction. “Glad you’re happy,” he muttered.
“Almost ready!” Eithan called from the brink of the next room, and everyone began to busy themselves.
Lindon still hadn’t closed the entrance to his void key, so the Dawn Sky Palace hung open.
Mercy brightened and ran over as she saw Orthos and Little Blue, but Lindon addressed them first. “If you stay out here with us, I’m afraid I might not be able to open the key again. You might get hurt. Are you willing to risk it?”
Orthos and Blue traded uncertain glances.
Little Blue gave a whistle, but it wavered unsteadily.
“If you get too weak from the hunger aura, I’ll have to send you back,” Lindon said, as he let the void key vanish. He didn’t add that the same remained true for the rest of them.
Soulfire now burned merrily in all of them; Ziel, Mercy, and Yerin had used up the last of the natural treasures Lindon had brought along. At least the ones that he could successfully balance out to create soulfire.
Everyone’s cores were full too, even Lindon’s. But they were completely out of elixirs. The only compatible scales they had left were pure or Blackflame.
Lindon and Eithan hadn’t needed to refill their madra as much as the others, but at the same time, when they did need to recover, it took them more to fill up their cores. They also couldn’t restore pure madra using aura, but that disadvantage was shared by everyone down here.
Every second, the hunger aura nibbled away at their power. Anything that they spent now, and any energy consumed by hunger techniques, would be gone for good. Lindon and Eithan were the only ones with scales left.
When the traps cleared, they dashed through and found a hall with a mark that seized Lindon’s attention. It was the four-part symbol that had marked the Ancestor’s Tomb from the outside.
The mark of the Dreadgods.
They passed beneath it and into a room that seemed to be nothing but row upon row of circular transparent tanks. They weren’t made from glass, though, but from some kind of loose fabric like transparent skin.
These tanks, or sacs, or whatever they were had long been empty. Lindon suspected from the scripts and tubes around them that they would usually be filled with liquid, and at that point, the skins would be taut. But this machinery hadn’t been operational for centuries.
Dead tanks spread ahead of them in rows, but Lindon studied them in glimpses as he ran past. Dross was responsible for noticing and remembering more details.
[These were nothing compared to the specimen tanks in Ghostwater. So outdated! We glorify the past too much, and we fail to notice the strides we’ve made in more modern times.]
Lindon tuned Dross out.
They were rushing through the labyrinth as quickly as they could, but all of them slowed when they reached the end of the room.
Four tanks had been removed from the last row, elevated onto a higher platform and surrounded by tools. Lindon didn’t need to identify the scripts on the scopes, gauges, and marked sticks to know that these were all measuring tools.
And he had a good guess at what was special about these tanks. One had been stained red, one blue-gold, one a heavy yellow, and one purple-and-white.
Lindon slowed to examine some partial notes that remained on the nearby tables, but he knew what these had to be. The tanks where the Dreadgods were born.
A quick glance through the notes led him to a quick hypothesis. He ran it by Dross, who agreed.
[Yes, these were most likely unremarkable dreadbeasts when they were born. Clearly, this was the facility in which creatures were infused with hunger and then had their growth accelerated. Once the Dreadgods grew beyond their peers, their birthplace was removed and examined more closely.]
Lindon had kept his perception extended for dream tablets or guide constructs that Dross could absorb to understand more of the research, but he’d found nothing.
Yerin stood before the blood-colored tank, looking disgusted. “Feels like rubbing mud in your face.”
The sensation the four tanks gave off was nauseating, and to Lindon’s intrigue, it was more than spiritual. They radiated not just the power of madra and aura, but an ancient authority that he recognized.
Eithan danced closer, then rapped his knuckles on the solid base of one of the tanks. “It’s not the whole tank, I’d say.”
At Eithan’s knocking, a tray slid open in the tank’s base.
Within was a…Lindon didn’t know what to call it. It looked like a bone, twisted into a shape that resembled a ring. It contained a smooth ruby that had once given off a powerful blood aura, but instead of strengthening over time, it had emanated its power with nothing to replenish it. Now, the once-strong natural treasure only gave off a tiny radiance of red aura.
But it felt heavy to Lindon. He was reminded of the pearl necklace and the other items he’d taken from Ozriel’s room, but this was in a higher realm entirely. To his senses, it felt as if the weight of this bone ring could warp the world.
He didn’t want to touch it—as Yerin had said, this gave off the disgusting impression of the Bleeding Phoenix—but he wasn’t going to leave a treasure like this behind.
Ziel and Mercy had pried open the purple-and-white tank belonging to the Silent King, and the treasure they recovered resembled a twisted thighbone with an amethyst randomly fused into it. It gave off a weak wisp of dream aura, but it carried a powerful hunger to dominate.
[A noble artifact,] Dross said. [I will accept it as tribute.]
Lindon was briefly excited at the idea. If he could imbue this level of significance into Dross, how much stronger could the spirit get?
But he discarded the idea immediately. It would only take him further away from his goal of getting the real Dross back, and it wasn’t as though such power could be as easily transferred as aura.
Though that thought brought him inevitably to the Soulforge.
Eithan handed the device to him, and Lindon opened the portal to the Soulforge right in front of the tanks. Space groaned as the portal opened, and only a breath later, Lindon forced his personal void key open.
The sound that accompanied the portal’s sluggish opening was…concerning. He was certain that his key wouldn’t last much longer. But this was worth it, even if the key broke.
He walked out with the broken fragments of Reigan Shen’s death-aspected trident, three broken hammers that he’d scavenged, one of his bundles of Soulsmithing tools, and the box containing the Tomb Hydra’s binding.
“I look forward to seeing if the Soulforge lives up to its reputation,” Lindon said, hiding his excitement.
Orthos spoke from Yerin’s shoulder. “How long until the exit opens?”
“Should have a few minutes!” Eithan called back.
Lindon had reached for the case containing Subject One’s hand, but he stopped when Eithan spoke. “Are you sure?”
“If I weren’t, I would still say this is a risk worth taking. Or would you rather confront Reigan Shen again with the same weapons we used last time?”
Without another word, Lindon headed into the starry world of the Soulforge. He strode out onto the platform, and the others filed in after him.
The blue fire blazed in the altar at the center of the stones, and Lindon sensed that he shouldn’t have to fuel it for at least one project. Without consulting with Eithan, he threw the broken hammers onto the center of the altar.
Immediately, the physical wood of the broken hammers’ hilts caught fire. Lindon controlled the fire aura to smother the flame, but he shot a startled look at Eithan.
The Archlord gave him a shooing motion. “It’s more about the idea of the hammer than the physical form. Natural part of the process!”
If Lindon wanted to complete a project like repairing and empowering a weapon of Reigan Shen’s, he wanted every advantage he could. And Eithan and Ozriel had both emphasized the use of a hammer, so he’d start using one.
Or at least repairing the ones he had.
[Focus as I guide you,] Dross said arrogantly. [I will not steer you wrong.]
Lindon didn’t fully trust Dross’ new personality, but he certainly had Ozriel’s dream tablets. He focused on the power on the altar, letting Dross feed the memories of other Soulsmiths into the back of his mind.
Lindon imagined a hammer in his mind. Not its form, but its purpose. He needed a tool to deliver his will, to shape the material in front of him. One that wouldn’t lose out to Reigan Shen’s weapons, and wouldn’t deform in his hands.
His will started unopposed…then he felt stiff opposition, like he had suddenly tried to lift a heavy weight.
The flames surrounding the broken hammers turned blue, and the material began to rise slowly into the air.
Lindon fixed his concentration, pushing his willpower into the project as he had when he’d torn open space. He could feel the broken hammers; they had once been used to craft masterpieces. He treated that as though it were a new aspect of madra, weaving it into his ultimate design.
The blue light started to congeal into the vague outline of a hammer.
This wasn’t enough, and Lindon felt instinctively what he had to do next. Part of that was the intuition he’d inherited from the memories of other Soulsmiths, but part was his own experience.
He needed to invest power of his own into this project. Lindon poured pure madra into the hammer, visualizing as he did the purpose of pure madra in Soulsmithing: its universal compatibility and its ability to purify.
But before the hammer congealed around the pure madra, he stopped. And he switched his cores.
He wanted this hammer to represent his power at its most complete state, so he poured Blackflame into the hammer. Blackflame added deadly force and destructive intention to weapons, and it too could be used to burn away materials and impurities.
When he had added an equal amount of Blackflame, he stopped pouring in madra and began using his will to guide the forces together. He intended to blend them, but Dross stopped him.
[Stop, you fool! Can’t you see they’ve achieved a balance already?]
At the heart of the blue outline that only vaguely resembled a hammer, two powers swirled: one bright and blue-white, and another darkness outlined in red. They swam around one another like twin fish, and they did indeed feel perfectly in balance.
That was where Lindon’s experience failed him. His will trembled as he held the hammer half-manifested.
What do I do now? Lindon asked. He vaguely assumed it had something to do with soulfire.
Just when he was prepared to brute force it, Eithan leaned forward. “Now, bring it forth. It isn’t real enough yet, like a Jade Remnant that has just manifested. Pull it out until it becomes reality.”
Lindon’s voice was strained with the effort of keeping the hammer half-existing. “What about soulfire?”
“What do you think that is?” Eithan pointed down to the blue flame in the center of the altar.
Aside from the fact that they were both in the form of fire, the flame in this altar had very little resemblance to soulfire. Especially since Archlord soulfire was its highest level, and that looked like quicksilver. Even Ghostwater had been formed with Archlord soulfire, not this…blue kind.
But Lindon’s will was at its limit, so he couldn’t wait to debate. He pushed one more time, shoving the hammer into reality.
As he did, he had one strange thought: he was pulling something into existence, and out of nothingness. That resonated with the Void Icon, but he wasn’t sure exactly how yet. It was worth examining later.
He got a brief glimpse of a black hammer with a double-sided head: one side blue and one red. Then the azure soulfire consumed it, hiding it for a moment.
When the flame passed, he could see his hammer.
Just sitting on the dark metal of the altar, it emanated a heavy pressure. Its will thrummed against his own, and he could feel its desire to create hanging in the air like a musical note.
It was made of a black metal he couldn’t quite identify, but that he recognized from the heads of the hammers he’d used to make it. The handle was rough enough that his hand wouldn’t slip, and the two halves of the head were very different.
The Blackflame half shone red and gave off a sharp, even savage impression. The pure half was smooth with round edges, and it emanated a soothing air. But when he picked it up, the weight was perfectly balanced. Red and blue lines trailed in the air behind it as he turned to show it to everyone.
“That was…strange,” Lindon said. It had felt as much like difficult manual labor as an effort of creation. Without Dross guiding him, he would have needed to fail many times to create such a product, and without the Soulforge the result would have been much lower.
“What are you going to name it?” Ziel asked.
Yerin nodded. “Needs a name.”
Everyone had crowded into the Soulforge’s platform, and Lindon began to wonder if the presence of so many people here would overburden the pocket world.
“Names are said to have an effect on an object’s purpose,” Eithan said.
Lindon could tell that they were heading into a situation in which everyone shouted out their suggestions for a name, so he turned to Dross instead. That conversation, at least, could be held at the speed of thought.
What do you think?
[Worldbreaker! Father of Weapons! Iron of the Netherworld! Midnight, Cursed Genesis of the Destroyer!]
I don’t mind ‘Genesis,’ Lindon thought.
Dross spat at him.
“Genesis,” Lindon said firmly, to cut off the discussion beginning around him.
Ziel shrugged. “Eh.”
“Sure,” Eithan said.
“Makes things. There’s sense to it, and it’s not all flowered up.” Yerin nodded.
“I think it needs to be longer,” Mercy said, running a hand down Eclipse, Ancient Bow of the Soulseeker.
Little Blue waved her hands in the air and cheered the new hammer.
Orthos blew smoke.
“Very good,” Lindon said, having gotten enough consensus. He hadn’t been overly concerned about making the hammer; the materials he’d used weren’t too valuable, and he wouldn’t be losing much even if he failed.
But now the blue soulfire inside the Soulforge had died down noticeably, and it needed fuel. And the components…while he’d gotten them for free, and as such wouldn’t really be losing out if the Soulsmithing created a useless product, he was still afraid to mess up.
Onto the altar went the two broken halves of Reigan Shen’s death trident…and the beating, throbbing heart-shaped binding from the Tomb Hydra.
The death madra immediately resonated between the two of them, and some death madra strings—dead matter that were still attached to the heart—began to weave around the trident.
“Better hurry up,” Eithan observed. “Looks like it’s trying to finish itself.”
Lindon gripped the bone ring set with the ruby, the object that had once given birth to the Bleeding Phoenix. He felt its weight on the world and looked back to Eithan. “Are we sure we want to—”
Eithan slapped his hand, knocking the twisted ring into the Soulforge. The circle of bone flew into the flames.
Instantly, the blue fire roared. It swelled to fill the entire interior of the altar, to the point that flames licked out around Lindon’s knees. He wondered whether the altar could handle it.
The invisible energy on the surface of the altar grew powerful, and the trident levitated into the air, carrying the death binding with it.
Lindon wasn’t sure whether it was an effect of the Soulforge or the materials, but he could sense the hunger aspect of the binding much more clearly than he had before. He pushed only a little, and the physical form of both faded.
They didn’t burn away to blue light, like the hammers had. This time, they seemed to fade until they covered one another, like one piece of paper layered on another.
This time, Lindon could feel an easy resonance with the Void Icon. There was hunger in the binding, and a hunger in the trident too; a hunger to destroy the enemy. To bring death.
Lindon spun Genesis in one hand, and he didn’t need anyone to tell him to use the red side.
Blackflame focused his will as he slammed it down on the two ghostly images.
You bring destruction, Lindon thought.
The heart squeezed halfway into the trident, and the weapon’s physical metal began to shift. The two halves slid closer together.
