Crimsoncrest (The Weirkey Chronicles Book 10), page 38
"Is it..." Fiyu hesitated. "Is it possible that we might help you ascend to Ophaon? I believe that I could convince the others to prioritize assisting you."
"Impossible. The step between Dominion and Ophaon is just as important as the ascension to Authority, but we know less about it. I was able to rise to Dominion swiftly without loss, but that is as far as my decades of planning could take me. Now we face a difficult road of unknown dangers."
With so many companions, Fiyu felt confident that they would be equal to those dangers. Yet it seemed like she was the only one. As she stared over the wreckage of their battle, the first in what could be a much longer war, she could understand their despair.
Epilogue
Being encased in crystal had felt like suffocation, at first. It took discipline to breathe in, to welcome the sublime liquids that entered her body and soulhome, despite her instincts screaming against it.
Once she attained a state of acceptance, Gethyrue lost track of time. She merely dwelled, focusing on the healing of her body. No visitors, not even Tythes. At first she thought back over her life, all the regrets and mistakes, then these thoughts gradually faded and she merely existed.
So when she was brought out of storage by Arbaian guards, it was almost as if her world shattered. She tried to ask them what was happening, but the liquid crystal in her lungs absorbed her voice. If she made any sound at all, the Arbaian ignored it, simply relocating her to what appeared to be a large artificial cube.
Their movement stopped part-way up a ramp, just before she reached the surface. From this angle she could see the top of the cube easily enough, but it would require a precise angle for anyone to see her. Because the Arbaian left, she had no idea whether or not this placement was intentional.
Even through her new calm, Gethyrue couldn't help but be concerned. Then she saw two people appear atop the cube and her breath caught. One was a member of the Orphic Cabal, someone she had observed before, and the other was her nephew Tythes. He looked wonderful... his health was vibrant, his soulhome appeared further repaired, and he'd changed out of those wine-stained robes.
"Didn't I say it would work out?" Tythes said. "The crest is in your possession, just like I promised."
"Anyone can claim to be responsible for what has already taken place," the Arbaian replied. "We asked you to deliver a neutral crest, if possible."
"And I told you from the beginning that possibility was non-viable. The Blacksilvercrest is better than the alternative, right? Now, I demand my payment of a trillion Fithan Discs."
The Arbaian let out a low chuckle. "Did you say a trillion because that's the largest number you know?"
"Am I being judged based on the largeness of my numbers? In that case, I demand a trillion trillion to the power of a trillion trillion Fithan Discs! Plus shipping fees!"
"What is being judged is not your results, but your judgment."
"Ooh, such clever wordplay! Your words must be profound."
Even though Tythes was aggressively using his methods of putting an opponent off balance, the Arbaian was not disturbed. Gethyrue had seen that her nephew was capable of irritating even Arbaians, so this one must already be familiar with him.
"We can come to no agreement," it continued calmly, "until we know your exact reasoning for leading House Blacksilver to that point. You could easily have usurped your father, or worked through the House of Coin or the Asplundat Movement."
"Can't you already deduce the answer, Idraz?" Tythes waved his hands vaguely. "Whoever ended up with the crest would receive attention across the Nine Worlds and be vaulted to a higher status. Blacksilver has a better chance than any other Fithan House of surviving that transition and becoming something useful to us both."
"Not the Asplundat Movement?"
"One of their leaders has larger shoes than me, and I've never forgiven him. Now that I've destroyed House Crimson, my vengeance turns to them."
Idraz let out another low chuckle. "Your humor is repellent, but I prefer it to the old you. Back then, you took yourself so seriously..."
Gethyrue's eyes widened as she realized the implication. If this Idraz was not merely her nephew's contact in the Orphic Cabal, but someone who knew him before... there were several potential explanations, but she knew in her heart that this was the mysterious Arbaian who had cast a shadow over their House for so long.
"How can I not mock myself?" Tythes asked, putting a hand to his heart. "Scion of a great house, utterly destroyed by mere words. It really does sound like a joke."
"Your intelligence was being wasted as a warrior," Idraz responded. "Of course, you were also wasting it on vendettas and petty schemes."
"On the contrary, I insist they were the pettiest schemes across the Nine Worlds. True works of art, singular in their triviality. Besides, I had to keep an eye on my father, and I needed time to rebuild my soulhome."
So this was the source. Young Tythes had gone to a competition and spoken to an Arbaian who had destroyed his very understanding of the world, leaving his warrior's soulhome to collapse on itself. Back then, Gethyrue had tried to comfort him, tried to help him rebuild, above all tried to understand why he suddenly mocked all the warrior ideals he had once championed. It wasn't until he'd grown older that he had explained how he had ceased to believe in any of it.
That was also the day he had understood that inter-world organizations existed and begun to worry about Wiltur's schemes. Had he implied that Wiltur was dead? Gethyrue felt a stab of sorrow for her brother, even though she had lost him to his hunger for power decades ago.
"And have you?" Idraz asked. "Years spent hollowing out your soulhome, and for what? Certainly not a conventional blueprint."
"Certainly not." Tythes smiled again, and it was no longer the smile of a drunk.
"Why play coy? If you truly want to work together with us, we will need to exchange information eventually."
"But you haven't actually answered my question. Was this proof enough of my commitment?"
Idraz shifted backward and settled lower to the ground. "You should already know the answer to that. We questioned not your ability but your prudence. Despite the chaos, this was deftly managed, and it allowed us to act covertly against Tymetron. You are welcome in the Orphic Cabal."
"Not quite the answer I wanted." Tythes raised one finger, again entirely serious. "If you have any trust in me, you know my payment."
"I intended to make good on that payment as soon as I realized your offer was not merely artifice." Idraz waved one of its limbs to the side. "It is already done."
Gethyrue was confused for a moment before she felt cantae lift her crystal, levitating it from out of cover onto the surface of the cube. She saw that Tythes noticed her the instant she moved, but she could barely focus on him. The liquid crystal in her body was beginning to burn, absorbing into her soulhome, yet she also felt as though everything within her was draining away.
Abruptly the crystal around her shattered into dust-like shards. She should have fallen, yet she instinctively caught her balance when she stepped out. When she took a breath, she felt better than she had in years.
"Are you alright?" Tythes asked softly. He'd crossed the distance between them in an instant, offering an arm of support that she no longer needed.
"Better than alright." Gethyrue reached down to touch her stomach and even through her clothes she could feel a line of crystal covering the old scar. "When you said I could be healed, I didn't imagine... this is..."
"I try to keep my promises, even if it takes a while." Tythes smiled weakly and for a moment he was her little nephew again.
"Even we cannot perfect a ruined Conduit," Idraz said in their direction, "but the fatal flaw has been removed. Nothing, at least nothing within our knowledge, can restore the strength or youth that has been lost, but she is no longer dying. I hope that you consider the payment more than adequate."
"It's a start," Tythes said with a smirk.
The vitality spreading through her body left Gethyrue breathless, but the stillness of her mind was giving way to a new focus. Everything her nephew had said was really very concerning, if she understood properly. Gethyrue had always been worried about Wiltur engaging with inter-world organizations and it sounded as though his son had followed in the same footsteps.
Tythes took her hand gently and guided her away. "A great deal has happened during your healing, so I should get you up to speed."
"Why?" Gethyrue asked. When he glanced toward her, she cleared her throat and found more words. "What part do I play in your grand new schemes?"
"None at all," Tythes said. "What I did here was about resolving unfinished business... your injuries, my father's schemes, even those young soulcrafters... everything is in order now. That means, at long last, I can finally move on."
"Move on to what?"
"I have no idea, but now everyone gets to find out."
X X X
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Acknowledgments
Thank you to all my alpha and beta readers for their feedback.
Special thanks to Phil Norton for his support on Patreon!
Thanks to Cultivation Novels, Western Cultivation, and GameLit Society for the community.
Sarah Lin, Crimsoncrest (The Weirkey Chronicles Book 10)
