Sep 15, 2025
So made I my own self.
So will I remake another.
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Hong Kong SAR China
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Kazakhstan
seen from Germany
seen from Türkiye
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
So made I my own self.
So will I remake another.
Pilgrimage
This is the twenty-fourth part of the O Maker Mine plot. It is preceded by Culmination and followed by Rewind.
Nyzere Olorik | Present Night | On the Tropic Ocean
“Are you sure about this, Zuzu?” Murmured Mijuta to the olive-lime cusp as the two stood on the edge of the ship’s railing, watching as they passed over the moonlit ocean waves.
She was over a foot shorter than them, slim and light-boned unlike their thicker, curvier build, and her expression was troubled instead of carefree.
Both trolls, however, had unusually colored hair - Nyzere’s was merely dyed red, as their black roots attested, but Mijuta’s was a natural light amber.
“Nope.” They admitted cheerfully, patting her shoulder. “Couldn’t be less sure of anything. But the compass says this is our best bet, and we have the spyglass to look out for trouble.”
She sighed delicately, toying with the golden-colored jewelry around her neck - not real gold, a bronzeblood like herself could never afford that.
Not that the lowblood cared. Mijuta had never been very materialistic.
Ever since Nyzere had met her three sweeps ago, they’d been charmed by her seriousness, her clarity of purpose.
She never wavered from her devotion to the old religion she led in secret, the Adherents of the Celestial Body, keeping it alive while continuing to let the empire believe it had died off.
Did they believe in it too?
Well. That was a question they’d never fully been able to answer, to either their own or her satisfaction.
Gods, spirits, fae. The world was full of many a strange thing, no doubt about that, even accounting for all the fake sightings and tall tales. They’d run into a few supernatural things themself on their travels.
While Nyzere did not revile them as the empire taught trollkind to do, they were still not sure if such beings deserved to be revered or given any other special treatment.
They figured it was like being almost lime. Some trolls hated and feared them for it, a few thought it was a sign of something special.
From all they’d seen, it was just a blood color like any other.
But who knew? The more they saw, the more they realized one lifetime couldn’t ever witness all there was in the world, nor come close to understanding it all.
So they still weren’t sure about the whole religion business.
Thus here they stood, ocean spray occasionally splashing their face, side by side with a woman they half loved and all liked.
Speeding toward the continent that apparently held a fragment of the force she’d spent her life worshiping.
“Cut itself off…” She murmured, as if hearing their thoughts - impossible, Miju was a flatscan, not a spark of psi to speak of. Though it was rude to bring that up; her lips always thinned when anyone did.
“That feels…wrong.” She said hesitantly. “Doesn’t that count as self-mutilation?”
Nyzere shrugged. “I always thought the ‘body’ was more of a metaphor, oui? A concept to help us understand the incomprehensible. We can’t really know the divine, if I remember right. What’s the doctrine say? We’re like cells or something and the Body is the souls of everything put together?”
She half-laughed at that, but looked up at them with a chiding expression.
“You’re simplifying a lot, Zuzu…but it is a little like that.” She admitted, then pursed her lips.
“No matter what, I’m worried for this part. The compass said it was from the Spine…the crossroads. Pure, ethereal beings come from there, ones not used to our world, who might be easily corrupted. But…”
The look on her face was full of wariness and longing alike.
“I have to know. I have to at least see it. I wonder what it looks like. I wish your spyglass could make it out.”
“Too far, Miju.” They reminded her gently. “You know that’s out of my range. For now.”
She nodded, then walked back toward the stairs down to their cabins, shivering in her floral print tank.
They were out of the Coast of Fangs’ waters now, and things were getting a bit chillier.
Nyzere wasn’t as cold, but they followed her, ducking their head to avoid bonking it on the ceiling as the pair descended.
“Dinner’s up soon.” Kafuul called from the kitchen, the finned tip of his tail sticking out into the communal living space.
Mijuta nodded before realizing the violet couldn’t see her. “Thanks, Kafuul.” She called back.
“You better thank me, I had to leave most of my spices behind and I’m still making this fish taste good, ‘cause that’s what I do." He fired back at them proudly.
Nyzere smiled and Mijuta called back “Thanks, Kafuul,” again in a placid tone that made her humor hard to read, but Nyzere struggled to not crack up.
“I better not be detectin’ lip, sister! I will tell Nye all your embarrassing wriggler stories!” He retorted in a jokingly threatening tone.
“They already know half of them!” She called back.
“Maybe a third.” Nyzere said, trying to be generous, even though it probably was half.
Kafuul wasn’t that much older than them and Mijuta, but he still treated her like a little signmate. The two had been raised as Adherents from a young age, taken in by the sect as wrigglers due to their visible mutations.
Mijuta at least could pretend she dyed her hair, and while being a psiless lowblood was unusual, it wasn’t unheard of. She only got minimally hassled most of the time.
Kafuul, though…
His blood was closer to purple than true violet, his fins shimmered like stars, his hair was white, and he had a long, slender tail. His fully purple eyes didn’t help either.
Of all Alternia’s castes, tails were tolerated the most in seadwellers, but their more traditional members were merciless about those they saw as unworthy of their blood color - especially a cusp.
All of that, while usually considered worthy of close scrutiny if not outright culling, was nothing as to the true crime he’d been hatched with: magic.
He was the only mage the Adherents currently had, the others having been executed by the empire or died of other causes over the sweeps.
His domain was powerful - he could call upon the stars themselves and the other aspects of the cosmos - but he himself didn’t have a lot of inherent energy.
It had only been a perigee and change since he’d pushed himself to near burnout with a spell that had almost been the violet’s undoing.
He was close to fully recovered now, but it had been terrifying to watch.
Nyzere never wanted to see him bleeding from the nose, mouth, and gills again.
“Zuzu?”
“Nye?”
They both spoke at the same time, and from the concerned look on their faces - Kafuul now out of the kitchen and standing close to them - the olive cusp’s memories must have bled into their expression.
“I’m good.” They said with a smile, recovering quickly.
They didn’t like others to worry about them. It only caused problems, like it had when they were young.
There were far more important things to think about anyway.
Mijuta’s lips thinned and her ears twitched slightly, and Kafuul gave them a sidelong glance, but neither troll questioned them.
“How do you think Dolcez is doing?” They asked cheerfully.
“Ayyy, who cares.” Kafuul groused as Mijuta set their places for dinner and he brought out the plates of fish and stewed yams, tail twitching irritably.
“Far as I care, these Legion folks can keep them.” He said, before cutting a piece of tuna off and taking a bite.
Mijuta looked slightly amused. “Why do you dislike them so much, Kafuul?”
“Do I need a big reason?” He shot back after swallowing.
“They’re annoying. Spoiled. Can’t believe they of all trolls have the founder’s bloodline. I boosted their psi because I had to and they gave me big dumb soulful eyes the whole time. Hate when trolls do that.”
“The trials of being pretty.” Nyzere said lightly.
He made a disgusted noise as his fins flared for a few moments.
“Pretty! Overrated. Yeah, I look good, but that’s no reason to gape at me. Just act like a normal person, Spine and all its stars.” He complained, then ate more fish with a grumpy expression.
Nyzere chuckled.
“Guess we’ll be meeting one of those stars soon, huh?”
“Supposedly.” Kafuul said, in a tone of disdainful skepticism.
“I’m suspicious, Nye. A piece of a cosmic divine force cutting itself off willingly? I believe you - I’m sure you read the compass right - but I don’t trust like that. Maybe it’s already corrupted, like Miju fears. In that case we might have to put it down; it could be just as much of a problem as the grayshifts.”
Nyzere winced as they ate some yams. They saw his logic, but…
“Would it really be that bad?” They asked quietly. “If it was more like us? Maybe it got curious.”
Kafuul let out a long, skeptical breath.
“Nye, I know you’re still new to all this, but you have to understand: mortals and the divine aren’t meant to mix. We can learn from it - worship it - but all that’s a mirror so we treat each other better. You don’t actually expect to meet the Body, or any of its servants.
You’re not supposed to; no part of it is meant to take a solid, physical form. It’s against the natural order.”
“That’s what people say about mages.” The lime cusp said, even more quiet. “That’s what they say about me.”
An awkward, tense silence descended.
It endured until Mijuta sighed and patted both their hands some moments later with a slightly sad smile.
“Let’s not fight. There’s still so much we don’t know, okay? We need to speak to it before we decide on anything.”
The other exchanged looks, but nodded silently, before the three finished eating in silence and went their separate ways.
The boat chugged on into the night, its droid pilot unable to comprehend the gray seeping and shifting beneath the water’s surface, mere feet away from brushing the hull, spreading ever further through the depths below.
Culmination
This is the twenty-third part of the O Maker Mine plot. It is preceded by We All Become. It is followed by Pilgrimage.
Jastes Verdan | Present Night | Civitrecce [Universe B]
Jastes sat alone in the old resistance hideout, staring blankly out of its now-smashed windows.
Rain fell lightly. It felt almost too normal - something that would happen on any other night in Civitrecce.
It reminded him of the night he’d met the artifice again in the park.
The night everything had started to go wrong.
At least it was mostly quiet now, and some trolls could be seen going about their business - if openly wielding weapons and constantly looking around, wary of attack.
He missed Torvah. He’d barely known his ancestor, but he missed them badly, wanted them here to assure him he was doing something - anything - right.
He wasn’t sure anymore.
The cyborg felt adrift, clinging to a raft he had to constantly repair to keep from sinking.
He’d kept most of his people and the refugees alive, but food supplies were running low, even with the gardens he’d had trolls cultivate and the animals some trolls had managed to hunt on trips outside the city.
Even if they were supposedly due to return to their native universe soon as was the news from that greenblood, Maidel, and the tealblood she was working for…what then?
Despite the damage his choice had done - though the Grey Mob had finally almost beaten QPIN at last - Jastes refused to go back to how things were before.
For the first time in his life - for the first time in everyone’s lives - they’d tasted what it was like to live without constant surveillance.
Without the yoke of the trident pressing down - forcing them into columns, into too-long shifts at factories - they could truly live.
He would go back to his original universe. But he would not go back to misery.
Even now, he sat and rested only because he’d spent the last few hours covertly gathering more parts and supplies for a project he was only trusting a select few trolls with: the expansion underground, building a tunnel to an entirely different cavern where his drones and droids were setting up shop at this very moment.
He could control multiple bodies and program-selves at range with barely a flick of conscious thought now: it had become automatic.
With the protection of the robot this ‘Legion’ organization had sent him for the refugees and Phasma here on the surface assisting the Mob, he could spare them for that work and to keep it a secret.
He didn’t want anyone knowing where they were. Not the empire, not the Grey Mob, not a single other soul.
Many Civitrecce lowbloods had died. Others had refused to come down. Some had left the city entirely, searching for whatever else this new universe might have to offer.
Much as it hurt, he knew he had to let them make their choices. He could only help trolls who wanted to be helped.
And if he was entirely honest…he was relieved to not be responsible for a whole city.
He would admit - if only to himself - that he never could have done that. Not with any real success, anyway.
Maybe even Torvah couldn’t have managed it. Not with how complicated things were now.
He paused. His proximity alarms and cameras had caught -
Oh. It was just Phasma.
The half-drone crashed through the wall and directly into the yellowblood, knocking the wind out of him and slamming him so hard into the opposite wall that part of it crumbled around him.
What?
This shouldn’t be possi -
It grabbed him, unfurled its massive buglike wings, and jumped through the roof, breaking it into pieces as it shot through into the air.
“Why!!” He shouted, all his questions condensed into that one word as his head spun from what had just happened, frantically trying to figure out if he’d messed up altering Phasma’s code after all -
“Is it such a fucking mystery?” The hybrid breathed, voice vibrating with quiet fury as it stared him dead in the eyes.
“Do you really - ” It wrenched one of his arms off and threw it aside as they flew higher. “ - have to fucking ask?”
Jastes paused, hardly caring about the mixed yellow and silver blood coming out of him, the distant pain of severed flesh and metallic bone.
“You got someone to undo my restraints.”
“Bingo.” Snarled the half-drone, and it threw him hard, hard enough he only had time to curl up and throw up a quick forcefield as he made a small crater in a sidewalk, scattering screaming trolls who ran from the impact.
Ow. He felt the pain more now.
Jastes struggled to move, his whole body shaking, barely even able to register the loss of his arm given everything else.
Who had undone his work? Why would they do such a thing?
How had Phasma gotten them to agr -
It landed on his body with a sickening crunch of bone and metal as over three hundred pounds of hybrid stood on him, disintegrating his forcefield.
Oh. He might actually die from this.
Jastes coughed up a mix of yellow and silvery blood.
Well.
Maybe he deserved it.
And he had spare bodies.
He had -
The cyborg passed out.
—
Jastes was surprised to wake up in the same body Phasma had attacked.
He still hurt a lot. His throat was dry as a desert.
But he could feel his nanotechnology slowly repairing his body, rebuilding his arm, row by row of metallic cells.
They were back underground, he could tell, as he blinked blearily and looked around.
He was…yes, he was on his cot. He still hadn’t had time to upgrade to a proper recuperacoon, and the refugees needed them more anyway.
Phasma walked back in the door and shut it behind them, eyebrows raised.
“I’ll give you one thing, Verdan, you recover quickly. I thought you’d be out for at least a few more hours.”
“Why’m I notdeads.” The yellowblood slurred, coughing a bit.
The hybrid snorted. “And bring this place crashing down around me? No thanks.
No, you get to live because you’re too much trouble to kill, and because this experience has hopefully taught you a fucking lesson.” It drawled.
“Uhh.” Jastes said, his brain still working slowly. “Sorry.”
Phasma cracked up.
“I bet you are! I bet you fucking are, you idiot. As for your earlier question: you’re not the only one who can mess with code. I made a trade with someone I knew wouldn’t fuck me over, and here I stand, free of your shit.”
Jastes knew he should probably be angry, but all he found in himself was a sense of guilt and a gnawing realization that he probably shouldn’t have restricted Phasma’s behavior to begin with.
He’d just…
He hadn’t wanted to take any chances.
He hadn’t wanted even more of his trolls hurt. Not again. Not when he still had no idea where half of the original resistance had gone.
No one had found their bodies, but even QPIN hadn’t had any information on them.
But…he should have at least tried to reason with the hybrid, he realized.
Phasma sat down on the floor with its oddly prim pose, legs crossed as it leaned forward, the long part of its silver-black hair waving slightly. He almost smiled for some bizarre reason.
It rolled its eyes at him in return.
“And as for your dumb fucked-up pitchcrush on me - ”
“What? No!” The cyborg protested, his mouth now healed enough to talk properly despite its dryness. “I don’t - why would you think that? That’s crazy!”
Phasma looked at him, then loomed over the cyborg and opened its mouth wide, smiling at him with all those gleaming black teeth.
Jastes felt a flush creep across his cheeks that he knew with a sinking feeling wasn’t embarrassment or anger.
“Oh god.” He muttered, now yellow to the tips of his ears. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Oh, grow up, you’re not the only troll in the world to feel some kind of way when a freak flashes their fangs at you.” They said in an unimpressed tone as they sat back down.
“I couldn’t care less what you’re into, I’m just not interested.”
Jastes covered his face with his hands. “I didn’t ask you to be. Ugh.”
Phasma laughed at him.
“Have fun with that, Verdan. Back on topic: you owe me for what you did. I’m leaving, but I want to be able to come back here if I need to, and I want the best disguise tech you can make.”
Jastes sucked in a breath, but he knew he couldn’t deny Phasma. It was right.
“Done.” He said, nodding.
It smiled slightly.
“Good boy.” It said condescendingly, and he flushed a bit again, hating himself for it.
“You stop that.” He grumbled.
“Why, because you like it too much?” The hybrid retorted with a yawn. “I’m owed some entertainment.”
“Anyway.” Jastes said, then coughed, determined to change the subject. “Bring me some synthetic flesh or spare tech, and I can start on that.”
Phasma looked amused, but nodded, and got back up and walked out of the door, shutting it again.
Jastes stared up at the stony ceiling.
What a mess.
And it was all his fault.
Everything was, really.
Not that that was news.
No matter what he did - no matter how many people he saved, how clever he was with his tech and his powers - he always seemed to make the worst choices when it mattered the most.
Was that how Torvah had felt all those sweeps ago? Did they regret sealing the artifice away?
He hadn’t asked. He hadn’t wanted to hurt them.
Maybe it wouldn’t have made any difference.
Maybe nothing he’d done really had.
Not yet.
But he couldn’t stop here.
Something had to change. He had to change something.
As the cyborg lay there, his body slowly repairing itself, he realized what he needed to do.
—
“Are you serious.” Xineck said, the maroon man’s tone flat as he, Edri, Uthern, and Jastes met in one of the cavern’s small rooms a few hours later.
Jastes nodded calmly, now fully mended and changed into unruined clothes.
“Of course I am, Xin. I need to step down, and if you’ll accept, I want you to lead inste -“
“Shut the fuck up.” The redblood muttered. “Just - fuck it, fine, you have a point. But it’s not gonna be just me. That hasn’t worked too fucking well, now has it, only one of us assholes calling all the shots.”
He took a deep breath, touching his fingers to his forehead, then looking at the other three trolls.
“If we’re really making a whole new settlement, we need to do better than that. We owe it to our people.”
He nodded at Uthern and Edri.
Uthern nodded back, and Edri smiled in approval.
“If we’re really doing this…” Xineck sucked in a breath before letting it out slowly.
“Then I want us to have a council. We’ll get some reps from our refugees, too, some new blood, at least two trolls of every caste we’ve got so everyone is represented.”
Jastes smiled. It wouldn’t solve everything, but it was a start.
“I’ll still be in charge of technology, if you’re okay with it.” He offered. “I was always better at that anyway.”
“Nah, I was thinking of putting you on janitorial duty.” Xineck retorted with heavy sarcasm, which made Edri cough-laugh and Uthern smile slightly.
“Get your head out of your shiny metal ass. Of course I still want you on tech. Who the fuck else would I pick?”
Jastes laughed, feeling lighter than he had in a long time.
Then a polite knock came from the door, and they all looked over.
“Come in.” Jastes said, curious.
Quinne - in her maroon disguise - came in, shut the door, and turned her psiionics off, tail waving back and forth in excitement.
Her red and white eyes were happy, and she had a big smile on her pale gray face.
“I jus’ heard from that greenblood girlie; they’re gonna have us back in a few nights! She’s workin’ double-time with some Civi troll called Process who said, uhhh - ”
She screwed up her face, then said ‘ah’ and continued.
“They said ‘Hold strong, Jastes. We have a troll manipulating time who will help take care of the fleet’s response to Civitrecce coming back. Still, ready your people.’”
“Or somethin’ like that.” She added with a shrug. “You guys got any snacks?”
The clearblood had actually put on a little weight since he’d met her, becoming less malnourished. It cheered Jastes to see it.
It cheered him to know that despite how badly he had messed up, it wouldn’t be for nothing.
He tossed Quinne a pack of fruit rollups from his sylladex, then turned away, so the others wouldn’t see a few yellow tears running down his face.
Which only enabled the mutant to jump on him, cackling as she bowled him over and he squealed in surprise.
The other resistance trolls laughed too.
“I gotcha!” She crowed. “I got ya, Jas! One hundred percent gotten!”
“Yeah.” He agreed, smiling through his tears.
“You really did.”
Six Shooter
This is the beginning of the second verse of O Maker Mine, Chordata, and the fifteenth part of the plot. It is preceded by Into the Wild Dark Yonder, Part 2, and followed by Dominoes.
Eileit Amaran | Doroch Chromh’s Hive | Present Night
Eileit blinked, waking up naked on her back and clearly strapped to some sort of table. Classic crazed necromancer type with old stains, it’d bet, even if it was also blindfolded at the moment and couldn’t see shit.
A week of observation, planning, and careful creation of the equipment she needed had culminated in this moment.
“Conscious, are you?” Drawled a voice with a moderate Eirish accent.
It didn’t come from any particular direction; instead it simply hung in the air all around the construct.
“Good, good. While I already performed my preliminary examination, I rather wanted to ask you some questions before I started taking you apart!”
“Uh huh.” They replied, only half listening as their bones and muscles clicked and squirmed, rearranging themself internally to form certain tools.
“So you’re a construct, obviously - one intelligent enough to speak and act on your own, but how do you have an active casting ability yourself? I’ve never seen that before! Don’t bother with it, though, you’ve been thoroughly nullified.”
Obviously. What, did Doroch - the speaker, the necromancer they had observed and the subject of their preparations - think it was a total idiot?
No, from everything it had learned they probably just wanted to hear themself talk. Might as well let them ramble on to gain itself more time.
This table was cold and hard, though. Its ass and back ached and its limbs were going to start falling asleep if it had to be stuck here much longer.
Doroch spoke again, tone chiding and mildly impatient now.
“What, cat got your tongue? Go on and start talking! I’m an excellent listener. Don’t you want to postpone your vivisection?”
“Well, you see, it all started…when I was born.” Eileit drawled. “I’m Jarred, 9 sweeps, and I never learned how to read.”
“What?”
It took a brief moment to enjoy the frustration and bafflement in the greenblood’s voice.
Then bloody metallic-bone blades popped out of her limbs and chest, slicing through her restraints before retreating into her body.
It hurt a little, but in the good way.
As Doroch cursed and yelled, she reached into one of the necromantic thralls she heard coming for her, shoving a lanky arm right into its skeletal mouth.
She grabbed and swallowed the soul fragments puppeting it, and it fell to the ground with a sad tumble of bones onto what sounded like tile.
Ah, that was better. Now she had a bit more energy and her wounds began to close up.
“What the fuck? Excuse me, what the fuck did you just do? You’re not an undead! How can you be an animaphage?!”
Eileit jumped off the table, kicking the other skeleton and - after a bit of struggle and a bone elbow almost jammed into their ear before it too clattered to the floor- swallowed its fragments too.
Oh, that was that good shit.
She ripped the blindfold off and ran her forked tongue over her lips, savoring the experience of being up and at it again.
“Put those back!” Doroch ordered. “You can’t possibly be able to process - ”
A third one hurled its way through the door and Eileit smiled at it, even though this one was obviously more of a heavy hitter, a well-preserved zombie decked out in armor and wielding a long, sharp sword.
She pounced on it faster than it could react and while its soul was mostly intact and put up a bit of a fight, writhing angrily in their mouth, they still managed to swallow it.
Energy burned hot within them now, almost too much to take, but Eileit knew she could keep a handle on it; she’d need it soon.
“ - them…” Doroch trailed off, tone disbelieving as she pulled a simple combat outfit out of her sylladex and threw it on in seconds.
Finally, not exposed to the damn world.
Not that being naked bothered her unduly, but it was cold in here (typical necromancer hideaway, had to be fucking frigid to keep the bodies from stinking like a midden) and besides, she looked good in black leather.
She pulled on specialized running shoes and strapped two custom-altered guns to her thighs, then took off through the experimentation room, running past other tables until she reached the door -
- skidding to a stop as she remembered the spike pit traps in the hallway, gleaming in the green torchlights that illuminated the place.
Doroch’s smug disembodied voice drilled through the air again.
“That’s right, idiot! You can’t go anywhere, and you’re still nullified. I don’t know why you bothered! You think losing three minions is an issue for me? Well, have I got news for you!”
Eileit grabbed the handheld spray gun from one thigh and aimed it down, releasing metallic webbing that rapidly spread and hardened between several of the spikes.
“What - really? Wasting your time, you still can’t cross the - “
The redblood jumped down into the pit, nearly fluffing the landing and falling onto the still-sharp points around her, but managing to stay on its feet and re-balance itself.
Fortunately, its shoes were made to grip just about anything.
The clatter of more arriving minions sounded from above, and the construct smiled widely.
“I am officially done with your shit. Killing you now, cutting you open later!”
Ooh, they were mad.
Eileit smirked a little.
Then it let out two full-sized blades dripping with red blood from its arms as the minions jumped down to swing at it.
Again, the pain, but this was the kind she liked.
Well worth some bleeding to carve through them like they were butter as it cackled, scattering dried-up flesh and preserved bone everywhere -
- then got teleported to the necromancer themself, Doroch Chromh’s green irises framed by sclerae orange in rage.
Eileit promptly shot them in the head with her other gun as it felt the greenblood try to take them apart with their psi.
Now that was the bad kind of pain. Ow. Her atoms had gotten a bit jostled during that split second.
The last of her consumed soul energy went to work mending them, and her body’s psi blockers were kicking in now.
Couldn’t have activated them before; it had needed to bait Doroch into bringing it directly to them.
Doroch teleported the bullet out of their skull and swore extravagantly in Gaelige as they patched up the wound with sparks of green energy.
“You daft fucking cunt! What do you even want? What’s the point of all thi -“
Eileit scooped up the spent bullet, put it in its sylladex, and dove for them. The midblood’s lean body warped and buzzed as they tried to teleport but found they couldn’t, returning to their normal state, wild-eyed as they futilely tried to scramble away.
The look of shock on their green-freckled face was delicious as the maroon pinned them down.
Bone spears erupted from the tiled floor and tried to gore Eileit through in three places, but were rather interrupted by the metal in its insides and smushed anti-climatically after inflicting only shallow wounds.
Doroch’s shocked expression became an eye roll.
“I really fucking hate you.”
“Hold that thought.” Eileit replied, then went for Doroch’s throat with bared, extended teeth.
Lukewarm green blood spilled over the floor from their veins and her mouth as she ripped open the pale gray flesh.
Eileit knew very well this wouldn’t kill them - that had never been her goal to begin with.
She didn’t try to consume their soul; that would be too much at once, and a necromancer of their caliber might actually be able to take over its body or kill it from the inside out.
No, what she wanted was to see how they came back.
Doroch Chromh was a highly skilled mage. They knew a lot about construct magic - more than the maroon did, despite being a construct themself. The midblood simply had more experience, more time honing their techniques.
They were also arrogant, vain, and almost impossible to reason with. If it had tried to bargain with them for some of their knowledge, it would have been overpowered and captured regardless to satisfy their inevitable curiosity.
So it had prepared and let it happen on its own terms.
Their body began to bubble and warp, space itself becoming slightly undone, flesh and bone becoming whole again.
Then they sat up with a gasp and a cough, throat closed up if greenish and raw where they’d been wounded.
“Will you just! Go! Away!”
“So, are you a lich, or do you have soul anchoring and physical regeneration running concurrently?” Eileit asked, conversational.
The greenblood squinted at them, rearranging their curly ponytail so it sat more prettily.
“Jump up your own arse and die.”
“Do you want me to shoot you again?” Eileit inquired, pleasant and patient.
Doroch sighed deeply.
“It’s the second one, but you’re an eedjit who clearly doesn’t know about other methods. Normally, I could also use my psi, but - and you’ll never believe this - some total bitch is stopping me right now.”
Eileit blinked innocently.
“Sounds rough.”
“Like sandpaper on your palms.” Doroch agreed, voice dripping with venom before it hardened into pure rage. “Now run, because I’m going to fucking find you.”
Eileit blinked again, giving them an ironic two-fingered salute as she took out a pocket teleporter and duly zapped herself a mile or so away into some woods.
Best not to go back hive just yet, in case the other mage had put some sort of tracker on them while they’d been unconscious.
Silly Doroch. They had no idea she’d left an agent in their bloodstream when she’d bitten them that would subtly warp their memory of what had happened and replace her features with those of someone who didn’t even exist.
That had been the last little surprise she’d put in her body’s biotech.
It wasn’t as if the constructs had memories left in their soul energy to compare against the greenblood’s own, and it had been sure to leave no physical items behind to be tracked by. The metallic webbing between the spikes would be dissolving to nothing at this very moment.
It chittered to itself, pleased by its success, and took out a scanner that would check for any possible arcane tricks left by its short-lived captivity.
Finding none, it whistled a song cheerfully and walked off, fingers drumming a rhythm against the guns on its thighs.
Revolver
This is the twelfth part of the O Maker Mine plot. It is preceded by Legionnaire Abroad.
Etuuya Vannyn | A Few Nights Prior | Kaningård Cavern
Tuuya stared at the rocky wall opposite them, bright green eyes only vaguely perceiving the familiar Svenskan stone.
The artifice was dead.
It had left a tidy little note on top of its corpse some nights ago, a small rectangle of lavender paper with neat handwriting.
If you’re reading this, then I’m dead. Whoops!
Don’t worry, I haven’t hung you out to dry. I pulled some strings and got Jodari to replace me. Consider it a favor for the various times I made fun of you, though tbh it was all pretty hilarious.
She’ll be here soon. I’ll be back never.
- XOXO Arty
Jodi had indeed arrived the next night. Tuuya, though happy to see their longtime friend, had been in rather a stunned haze.
She hadn’t seemed to mind. She’d heard the news about Civitrecce too.
Tuuya had let her think that was the only reason for their disorientation; she hadn’t seemed to know what had really happened, and they were in no state to explain.
Then the worm swarm had realized - Chimer must be gone.
Along with thousands of others.
Chimer…she’d asked them about the artifice some time ago, after the creature had apparently told her some very unsettling things, and they had related its irritating antics as both Iaktta and Dyanni.
A few nights later Ullane - quiet, resigned - had mentioned the false tealblood was no more. Hunted down by an enemy, it had terminated that body to escape from him and protect the yellowblood.
Tuuya hadn’t known how to feel.
Smugly satisfied? Bitterly vindicated?
Now a welling sense of guilt overshadowed all else.
They had never liked or trusted the creature, but even in death, it made sure Kaningård was protected…
Tuuya knew full well they had hardly given it an incentive to do so.
Who could blame them? It had always been unsettling and disrespectful.
Yet.
It truly had meant well.
Even if they also suspected…
They sighed and shook their head. They had paperwork to do, as always.
The head matron picked up their pen, adjusting the sheet beneath one thick, dark gray hand with their other one.
Then came a polite knock at their study door. They grimaced in slight frustration, ears flicking, but if they were really honest with themself they weren’t in a state to get much done anyway.
“Mx. Vannyn? There’s an ambulance pulled up outside the cavern, but we didn’t call for one. Do you know why it’s here? The medicullers are all baffled.”
Anleih’s voice was politely mystified, and Tuuya, wide mouth tilting in surprise as their bright green eyes blinked repeatedly, felt the same.
They took a moment to compose themself.
“I’m afraid I don’t, Anleih.” They said with determined levity. “But I’d love to find out!”
They got up, grabbing their silver cane from its stand next to their desk, and got up to open the door.
Anleih was out there along with a few other staff; they looked concerned.
“Is someone injured, Mx. Vannyn?”
“Did something happen? Are we getting a patient?”
Sometimes mutant grubs or wrigglers from elsewhere would be brought in secret to get treated.
“I’m afraid I don’t know.” Said Tuuya calmly. “Anleih has my permission to speak to them and find out. We weren’t expecting any special guests tonight, so be sure to give them a warm welcome.”
Code for ‘I wasn’t forewarned of an imperial, but they might be one in disguise; be careful.’
The worm swarm trusted Jodi. They would never trust the empire.
According to the tealblood, Arty had managed to make it look like Ardoat had died of some form of subtle, fast-acting cancer. Clever, they’d admit, if deeply uncanny.
But one never knew. They might be getting investigated anyway.
Anleih nodded and ran ahead.
The rainbowdrinker followed.
—-
Several minutes later, Tuuya blinked as they felt warped back three sweeps in time to when they’d been shot and captured.
Sochet Izzanu stood before them in the cavern’s waiting room, hands on her hips, scowling as usual. At least, usual for their interactions with her.
“Shit, I barely recognized ya at first, you’re so much rounder. And grayer.” She started off bluntly. “Doesn’t make a gal feel real at ease to see you’ve gone off your diet.”
Tuuya snorted. “If you’d care to stop commenting on my appearance, could we perhaps get to why you’re here?”
Truth be told, they’d almost forgotten she was coming, their mind had been in such a state. When Thrixe had messaged them, they’d just said that if the brownblood could make it here, they’d speak to them.
They hadn’t actually expected Sochet to do it.
She sucked in a breath.
“Starfish boy said you knew something about why Civi was gone.”
“I have a theory.” Tuuya said calmly. “I don’t know for sure. But I do have other information that will be of use to you. First, though - why do you want to know this? How do I know you aren’t going to report on me to the empire?”
Sochet made a disgusted noise, rounded ears pinning back a bit.
“Shit! You think I’d lick an imp’s boot? Just ‘cause I don’t like you freaky fuckers doesn’t mean I’m suckin’ up to trident lovers. I’ll work with ‘em if I gotta, but do all this for one? Fuck no. It’s for a different group.”
Tuuya’s eyebrows raised. “I’m listening. Go on.”
The bronze gritted their teeth.
“They're called Legion, led by a fellow called Arigah. Xrumon Arigah.”
Tuuya squinted thoughtfully. The name rang a bell…
“Wait…he was present at Ullane’s trial, wasn’t he? I remember there being some kerfuffle with him involved when I watched it…”
The brownblood looked blank.
“Fuck, I dunno. Don’t know shit ‘bout any trials.”
Tuuya nodded regardless, their memories coming back more. “Yes…a tealblood, very outspoken. He accused the Grey Mob of sabotaging Ullane, and he turned out to be right.”
She sucked in a breath.
“Well, ain’t that fuckin’ ironic, cause he’s havin’ to work for them now. They want Civi back, and they’re leanin’ on him to get it. Friend of mine’s workin’ with his group and he called me up. I was skeptical to start.” They admit.
“But then I realized what’s at stake. Figured even if it meant talkin’ to you freaks, I had to do somethin’ about it.”
“How noble of you.” Tuuya replied dryly, then looked thoughtful. “The Grey Mob…I do not envy the man. Neither do I want Kaningård involved. However…you are right. This is beyond any enmity we might have for each other. One of my own sponsors and allies disappeared with the city, and of course, the loss of thousands of trolls is not something to be taken lightly.” They added in a grave tone.
“That said.” They continued, the pointer finger of their free hand raised as Sochet opened her mouth again. “I will have Ullane check with Mr. Arigah to verify your story before we continue. I think you understand why I cannot simply take your word for it, miss Izzanu.”
The bronzeblood’s scowl deepened.
—-
Tuuya instructed their staff to provide Sochet with amenities while they waited, and they did have to admit to themself that it was a bit funny to hear the hunter was mildly fuming about the delay.
Ah, the impatience of youth.
But after some time - in which a bit of paperwork actually did get done - Ullane responded and corroborated what the bronze had told them: they truly were here for what they claimed.
Once more, the head matron rose, took their cane, and went to see the lowblood. She had been shown to a space close to the waiting room, not much further into Kaningård.
Sochet might be here in good faith - as good as it got with her - but they certainly weren’t about to show her more of the cavern than was strictly necessary. Security still had to be maintained.
They knocked on her door.
They received a grunt in response, so they opened it.
They sat down on the couch opposite the chair the hunter sat in, and folded their hands after setting their cane aside.
“I will tell you all I know for certain, and all that I believe may be true. However, this information does not come for free. In return, I would like your group to provide one security droid for the cavern.”
She sputtered. “You fuckin’ what? I don’t have control over that! And you’re a real shithead, demandin’ somethin’ like that before I even know what info you got.”
Tuuya smiled a bit morbidly, a few needlelike teeth showing.
“Oh, I’ll pay for it. But I don’t want you acting all high and mighty and refusing me on principle.”
Sochet grumbled, and the worm swarm knew they had hit home.
“Fuckin’ - fine. Sure. Whatever. I’ll pass it on to Arigah. Cocksucker.” She muttered.
“Sticks and stones, Izzanu.” Tuuya said with a gleam in their eyes. “Now listen closely. In fact, you may want to take notes; this is quite the strange tale, and there is a great deal to it.”
To the bronze’s credit, they didn’t give them any more lip; just took out a somewhat stained notebook and a pen, eyes expectant behind their orange-tinted glasses.
“I asked you for a security droid. Imagine one smarter and more powerful than anything you’ve seen before, but capricious and unbound, answering to no one but itself. A multi-bodied shapeshifter, a troll mimic, fully capable of taking over others’ bodies with technology and leaving no trace.”
The woman’s eyes grew wide and a bit fearful. The pen paused in her hand as the drinker’s words sank in.
Tuuya’s lips twisted in a grim smile, knowing they had her attention now.
“It was called the artifice.”
—-
Sochet looked utterly drained by the time they were done, hands covered in pen ink smudges as they took off their glasses and rubbed at their eyes wearily.
Tuuya couldn’t find much humor in it; they had had to excuse themself to drink some blood to keep their energy up and even now, they sat slumped back on the couch in the space near the waiting room.
“Fuckin’ hell.” The bronze said after a few moments. “I expected something wild, but that’s…”
They shook their head. “Fuck, I don’t have words.”
“It is rather a terrifying and unique phenomenon.” Tuuya agreed, ears flicking slightly. “Or it was, seeing as it’s dead.”
“You sure it’s dead? Like a hundred percent? That it’s not faking?” She asked with a clear, fervent hope that the answer was yes.
“I cannot be entirely certain.” They admitted. “But I don’t see what it would gain from lying. As I said…I suspect it is behind the disappearance of Civitrecce. The timing of its death and the the city vanishing when the empire attacked it are too close to not be a coincidence, I feel, given that is where it came from and what seems to have been its motivation for its actions.”
They stretched their arms, tilting their head to unstiffen their neck, and looked at the bronze.
“I cannot provide you with a way to get Civitrecce back. I can give you a contact who might be able to assist with that, if you can persuade her.”
Sochet looked stunned.
“Wait, really? Please tell me it’s not another freak.”
Tuuya’a lips twitched in an amused smile. “I think if anyone called Maidel a freak, he would be very upset. Sensitive soul, that one, but he’s also a reliable and helpful sort of fellow. And he’s entirely troll, so don’t fret.”
The bronze breathed out a sigh of relief, then paused.
“Okay, well that’s rosy, but what the fuck is he gonna do all by himself?”
“He is a powerful psiionic.” Tuuya explained. “One of the strongest I’ve ever seen. He teleported a small town once, buildings and all, every troll intact - and that was sweeps ago. She has been honing her powers since then, and I am sure she could do more than that now.”
The hunter whistled.
“Well goddamn. All right. I’ll hit her up, then.”
“A word of warning, though.” Tuuya said, holding up the pointer finger of their right hand once more.
“He is not a fighter, despite his power. I very much believe it would be intelligent to send this Alpha you mentioned, or something like it, along with him if he consents to search for the city.”
Sochet shrugged. “That’s Arigah’s call, not mine. But I’ll let him know. Thanks.” She said, extremely grudging.
Tuuya gave her a wide, needle-toothed grin as they wrote down the greenblood’s handle and gave it to them.
“My pleasure. Have a safe trip back.”
Sochet snorted as they took the slip of paper, shoving it in her sylladex and walking out of the room without a goodbye.
Tuuya jauntily waved her off, even though they knew she couldn’t see and wouldn’t look back.
It was the principle of the thing.
Returned
This is the eleventh part of the O Maker Mine plot. It is preceded by Found and Leverage.
Various Perspectives | Present Night | Universes A & B
A city disappears, its citizens with it.
The imperial treasurer’s matesprit is among them.
Mesier Beldon - grand highblood, shifter, powerful mage, and chucklevoodoo master - is not one to sit idly by.
He joins forces with Jikiro Takami and grants Jamie Abnale a new job.
He makes plans to rescue Chimer Latrai.
In exchange for information on the city and its vanishing, he has also agreed to bring back Lizzie Eizzil.
So long as his ritual goes as planned.
—
Jikiro hadn’t needed Akiote to come get him this time; he’d made sure he was ready and waiting in the dining room for Mesier Beldon and his secretary Vrayan Fennix. He had food ready if they needed it, though he kind of figured both of them would want to get right to business.
He was almost right. As Mesier went ahead to set some things up for the ritual outside near where Jikiro had performed his own incantation to contact Lizzie, the blueblood woman stayed behind to get some cushioning together so her boss could take riders more comfortably in his dragon form.
Jikiro tried to make conversation - he always did - but found her terse and snappish, though he got the feeling it wasn’t because of him. He’d just given her some necessary ink, after all.
In fact…examining her body language, the way she held her tail and ears, the look in her eyes and tiredness in her posture…
All that, plus the sense of familiarity he was picking up with his magic, led the tealblood to one conclusion.
“Hey. Not to be rude. But one undead to another, do you want some blood? My moirail’s a drinker, I can kinda tell.”
Vrayan sputtered, eyes flicking nervously around. “I’m not - this isn’t - I don’t -“
The ink maker was calm, his expression nonjudgmental as he got up from his seat at the breakfast table.
“Hey. I’m not judging. Do I look like a guy who denies myself much?”
The heavyset midblood chuckled at the idea.
“Takami rules say feed everyone who helps us, if they want it. And I’m glad you’re here.”
The mutant woman paused. Hesitated. Then, in a voice smaller than Jikiro expected:
“Just - just don’t say anything to Mesier when he gets back. This is a bad habit.”
Jikiro nodded, calm and serious, understanding this was something she hated admitting to and was only doing so out of need.
“Nah, none of my business. I get it. I won’t tell anyone else.”
He drew out some of his blood with magic in a floating stream, removed the ink from it and returned it to his body. With his free hand, he retrieved a glass bottle from his sylladex, and put the filtered teal liquid in it, handing it to the blueblood.
Then he walked outside to watch Mesier work, curious to see how things would go - wanting to be on standby in case something went wrong.
The grayshift from his own spell lingered unpleasantly in his head.
—
The tall grand highblood had gotten out his materials and tools, having already drawn part of the binding spell that would be needed to focus and direct his chucklevoodoos on the cleared ground Jikiro had prepped for him.
As he walked closer, the tealblood realized the symbols were done in a dark purple liquid, almost violet in hue…
The man’s own blood, he realized with a slight shock.
He was used to using his own blood for spells sometimes, but usually only in emergencies. Mesier was doing it of his own free will.
The warding spells must need to be strong as hell, then.
He guessed it made sense, considering what the shifter’s voodoos were - he’d never imagined the typically mental-based powers could manifest in such a way, tearing holes in time and space, but he was hardly going to say shit when they were about to be so useful.
Vrayan, for her part, used the firestarter ink he’d given her when she first arrived. The shifting gold and red iridescent liquid gleamed in the moonlight as she carefully daubed symbols with it using a brush he’d lent her.
Jikiro had recommended that type for practical reasons, but he also couldn’t wait to watch it all catch alight - he knew it’d be spectacular.
With his assistant now there, Mesier finished quickly. Jikiro nodded to him as he finished his last symbol, the tealblood’s usual thumbs-up feeling too casual for this troll and this occasion.
It was quiet, only mild insect buzzes interrupting the night air.
Then the purpleblood transformed into a dragon and breathed fire to activate the wards - a beautiful gold and purple with a core of black, creating crisscrossing arcs in the air - and shot into the void he created, vanishing in moments.
“Damn.” Breathed Jikiro.
—
Lizzie had been in her apartment when it happened, deep into studying for her next test.
She’d noticed a few people acting strangely, and Viltau’s tip-off had made her a bit on edge, but something like this?
How could she have ever anticipated the entire sky going white for a few moments?
The fleet itself coming to cull them all? The subsequent vanishing of its warships?
People told stranger stories too: of giant metal bugs in the sky fighting the empire, eyes on buildings, and glowing green lines in the streets as the entire city became one unified machine.
She didn’t know how much of it she believed.
She didn’t know how much she’d live to confirm or not.
Her one lifeline had been the message from Jikiro, though it had shocked her at the time and she’d yelled, flinging a glass at the sudden inky letters that had manifested in the air. It had flown right through them and broken on the wall.
Then she’d realized they were harmless, a message from someone she knew - not well, but she’d always found the other tealblood friendly, and Hazard liked him.
A weight had lifted from her shoulders as he promised her aid from Mesier Beldon.
Now - crouching in Indrid’s office building, having vainly tried to collect more information on what happened before she came home - she felt it pressing right down again.
She and the indigo were two of the few legislacerators left.
Indrid hadn’t smiled since all of this had started, not once.
Now her face was paintless and grim, her partially teal-dyed hair bedraggled as the pair of them huddled behind a stack of desks.
Gangs had finally taken the building the other night; the word was that between them and the corporations, they were winning, though not without heavy losses.
The other buzz was that the rebels had somehow defeated some of the last drones in the city.
Lizzie wasn’t sure she believed that, but on the other hand…who knew, in these times.
“I’m out of acid.” Indrid said quietly, referring to her gun that took sulfuric grade. “I used it on the last ones.”
Lizzie had figured as much.
“Can you voodoo-stun them?” She asked, knowing the odds probably weren’t good.
Indrid shook her head, and Lizzie could see the tiredness on her face, the hang of her head and droop of her ears.
“If I do it much more before I sleep, I might melt my own brain.” She said, even quieter.
“Okay…” Lizzie said, thinking.
Footsteps in the hallway. Casual, unconcerned.
People armed to the teeth who knew they could take their time, that they were in charge now.
The midblood thought harder.
She looked over at the office’s windows, and put her sunglasses on.
It was night out, though just barely. Neither of them had suncloaks. They were a few floors up. The gangs wouldn’t expect them to take their chances.
Almost nobody would.
The tealblood jumped up, ran over, and took out her strife anyway, swinging with everything she had.
The office windows were decently shatterproof.
They were not Lizzie-proof.
Two hundred and fifty pounds of very determined tealblood wielding a baseball bat smashed the windows to bits just as the door opened, and ducked as the gang trolls opened the door and cursed at the weak sunlight hitting them directly in the eyes.
She dragged a nearby Indrid with her out into the air, and swapped her bat for her anti-grav disk.
In no way was it enough to take two big adult women dropping three floors like stones, but they did at least ensure that both of them didn’t end up stains on the pavement, merely bruised.
As usual in Civitrecce now, fires burned in the distance. Gunshots sounded from behind them and elsewhere.
Her skin burned slightly. They had to find shelter.
Then she saw the dragon fly overhead, teal eyes going wide with shock and relief.
Indrid would have to fend for herself.
—
Sometimes, Chimer hated her own stupid privilege.
Okay, that was a lie, she usually hated her own stupid privilege.
She especially hated it when it meant she was safe in a bunker while her city went to absolute dickweeds up above.
Yeah, yeah, if she survived she could help.
Big comfort that was to the terrified, dying trolls on the streets.
Her fangs ground together yet again, fins flicking in irritation as she checked the city feed for the millionth -
Oh shit that was her boyfriend.
Well, that was dragon boyfriend. The other one better not be pulling any shit, Sev was in not any state for that anymore.
“How are you - oh, yeah.”
She remembered the magical tracker she’d let him put on her.
It had seemed like a bit overkill at the time, but she’d figured hell, why not, she’d been in stupid bullshit situations before and wait, what was this? It was stupid bullshit situation #3 with the steel chair!
She poked her head out of the viewing room to talk to the few staff trolls she’d managed to get down here with her.
“Hey, hate to bail, but I gotta go. You all feel free to hang out here though.”
The midblood and lowbloods stared at her, stunned.
“But, miss Latrai - “
“Gotta go! Stay safe!”
Fortunately, that stunlocked them all long enough for her to run to the elevator and punch in the security code, allowing her to get bonus points and proceed to phase 2: get to her ride without becoming target practice.
—
“Well this is a goddamn unsatisfactory bitch of a situation.” Chimer said, flat and not with the humor the meme deserved as the universe decided to lovingly render gangs swarming the space outside the elevator and its immediate exit room on the camera feed.
Didn’t they ever sleep. It was barely night. Honk shoo time, for most people whose boyfriends hadn’t shown up to be really cool.
Literally what was here for them anyway.
Or was it because she might well be the last fuchsia left alive in the city? There hadn’t been a ton of them to begin with (duh, rarest caste) and technically, she cooperated with the empire…
She sighed. Yeah, okay, fair. Still sucked though.
For them.
Yup, there went the gunfire, and yup, there went the screaming.
Rest in piss, but if you decided to shoot at a big fire-breathing dragon, you were kind of asking for it in her humble opinion.
…Fuck, they kept going. She heard laser blasts too.
She heard pained roaring.
She swore and took out her trident - the only traditional fuchsia thing about her, three wickedly sharp tines gleaming.
Mesier would probably be fine. Probably.
She didn’t have any powers now. Hadn’t for sweeps.
Chimer Latrai ran for the door anyway, face alight with fury as she threw it open and gored the nearest troll she saw shooting at -
- a tealblood near Mesier.
Huh?
She blinked as the corpse slid to the ground and she retracted her weapon.
Who the hell was that? Clearly not a Civitrecce gang troll, they didn’t tend to come in teal, fat, and - she’d bet her fins on it - a legi or policeradicator.
Okay, her matesprit managed some fire-breathing, tide was turning.
“Mesier!” She said, raising her voice. “I’m here!”
The dragon turned toward her - and the tealblood leapt in to bash a troll trying to sneak up on him with her baseball bat.
Dope, Chimer thought, as she ran toward him and he to her, and she scrambled up on his back to reach the two-seat cushioning someone - she guessed Vrayan - had strapped onto the sharp scales.
Then everything went gray.
Color leeched away, time slowed down.
Her breath felt like ooze in her chest.
The warm air went still.
Everything did.
Everyone.
She couldn’t…think…
Chimer gasped as it passed. Fuck, shit, fuck - help the tealblood get on and secured, she was clearly injured - damn it.
“Mesier! We’re on!”
God bless him, he didn’t waste any time.
Black holes…
The world lurched sickeningly, and she felt a dribble of blood roll down her mouth and chin.
She’d take that to the gray.
She’d take anything.
Stars. Sky. Grass. No city.
She breathed deeply, body shaking a little in relief, fins drooping weakly.
Home.
Found
This is the eighth part of the O Maker Mine plot, and is set after The Waiting Game and Transfer of Power.
Jikiro Takami | Takami Estate | Present Night
Jikiro stretched widely as he leaned back in his workshop chair, yawning. He might technically not need sleep anymore, but damn, he didn’t feel like it right now. Even having eaten good meals as usual and chugged his share of ink, he was still wiped.
But the spell was ready, or damn near close enough to it. He’d done a practice run using a simpler version with Linnae first, just to make sure it activated like it should and could be sustained without issue.
To his surprise Crista had also been a help, the word-wizard supplying their knowledge of teleportation to help with the spatial differences involved. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust their skill, but as a newer mage he hadn’t thought they’d have much to offer that he didn’t know or could look up.
He didn’t mind being wrong at all.
Apparently it had been Velour’s idea for them to pipe up; the guy’s education must be coming along okay, even if Kizuna could be a real shit sometimes.
It was nice to have other magic users around he could rely on, especially right now.
The tealblood looked over the neatly stacked sheets of paper on his desk, ink having finished drying so they could be allowed to touch.
To a layman, they looked like ordinary East Alternian script, but a mage would be able to tell how the characters shifted slightly in the light, gleaming with subtle iridescent colors.
A spell to contact someone in another universe.
If he wanted to be really technical - Himari’s voice ringing in his ears from a memory of pupahood - it was an incantation, combined with a sending spell.
Normally, he didn’t give a damn about being technical at all as long as he understood what he was doing, but…with Linnae involved, and with so much on the line, he had consulted his older signmates for a second opinion. Just to be safe.
He absolutely didn’t want to tell Hazard or Tira that things had gotten fucked up somehow, that he’d either failed to locate Lizzie or she hadn’t been able to communicate back with him.
They’d be pissed as hell, but even more than that, he’d feel so damn guilty.
This was what magic was for, ultimately. Sure, it could do fun tricks or give you an edge over your business competitors, but when it came down to it…
Nothing mattered more than keeping the people you loved safe.
Right now, no one had any fucking idea if Lizzie was safe or not. He could only hope she’d stay alive long enough in the chaos Civitrecce had become for him to communicate with his fellow tealblood.
He knew how lucky he was that Jamie had gotten out, even if he could still barely comprehend that the artifice itself had saved him.
Though Jamie had told him that it had known and cared for the cobalt’s ancestor.
Baffling, imagining that thing caring for anyone.
And yet…
Kana was more solemn now.
Her bug friends had gone.
She’d stand every night and wait for them outside, until someone came to find her and distract her.
Fucked up that it had still been here the whole time, but…
It hadn’t hurt anyone since that night. It had played with Kana. Enough that she had come to adore it and babble about it to anyone who’d listen.
Jamie said it had probably gone insane during its imprisonment.
Much as he still didn’t like the thing, he guessed that made sense.
Jikiro got up, putting the papers into a crisp business folder that he placed in his sylladex. He’d make a backup copy too; this would be something to record for the Takami spellbooks later, so future signmates of his could benefit. Though he hoped none of them would ever be in the same bizarre situation as his friend and his matesprit’s moirail.
Anyway. Time to get some sleep. He needed to be in perfect shape for the casting tomorrow night, and the sun was peeking through the blinds on his windows.
—
“Get up, sir.”
He groaned, but as always when Akiote came to fetch him, Jikiro knew better than to argue.
The tall yellowblood looked even more grave than usual, arms tucked behind their back and their one visible eye solemn.
The tealblood frowned, carefully getting out of his recuperacoon.
“Something happen?”
The lowblood looked away for a moment, then back at him.
“Sir’s in-clade, Mr. Ailaht. He cannot make it to the casting. He left a…distressed message on the main line.”
Jikiro tried not to look a bit relieved.
He liked Hazard, but not having the anxious blueblood around when he performed a very delicate piece of magic was a bit of a load off, he wouldn’t lie.
“I sense sir is not overly upset.” Commented the gardener dryly.
“Hazard’s nice, but he’s not the most composed guy in the world under pressure.” Jikiro admitted. “And I really have to focus. Better if it’s just me and Linnae.”
Akiote’s face flickered with a brief, grim smile.
“We have trolls waiting to greet and escort Mx. Ishimi when they arrive. We will await you at breakfast, sir.”
Jikiro chuckled. “Damn, how’d you guess the first place I’d go.”
“Immense experience, sir.” Replied the yellowblood in a voice of delicate politeness as they walked back out the door.
—
Normally Jikiro preferred to savor his meals, but tonight he shoveled ink-soaked rice and green tea down his throat, knowing there was no time. As the casting drew closer, he became painfully aware of what he’d been trying to ignore since they’d all gotten the news: it might already be too late.
It shouldn’t be. Lizzie was smart, she’d know the warzone Civitrecce had no doubt become was nowhere for someone without some kind of power up their sleeve, and as far as he knew, she didn’t have psi or natural abilities or anything.
At least if they managed to contact her, Mesier Beldon could help bring her back.
It had been a hell of a revelation to learn that Jamie’s boss’s matesprit - Chimer Latrai also now missing in the vanished city, fuck, he’d probably been one of the last trolls to talk to her personally before it happened - was also a powerful mage. On top of being Imperial Treasurer and a Grand Highblood.
Apparently he knew Hazard too, had been the one taking Goh Tat’s sorry ass to court after his archaeological thefts. Small world.
He finished eating, made the copy of his spell (the original might get water on it, or the ink itself might get used up, he wasn’t sure, not like he’d done this before) to later put in the bloodline spellbooks, and wasn’t that a damned good thing because no sooner had the teal copied the last character did he get the call that Linnae was here.
He smiled in relief. The fuchsia might be kind of naive in the ways of the world, but he was a true friend, and a very powerful mage. Jikiro would definitely owe him one for this.
The midblood greeted the highblood warmly as he arrived escorted by a few of the grounds staff, and the fuchsia laughed nervously as they often did. He nodded at him encouragingly, and took him to the spot where they’d do the incantation and sending spell.
It wasn’t too far from the koi pond, a grassy spot he’d prepared to be flat and warded to be clear of insects and ghosts, free of any possible distractions. He’d also brought some old, well-made clay pots - enchanted, ones the Takamis had had for generations - to contain the water Linnae would summon. They could hold a lot more than they appeared to be able to from the outside.
A slight wind blew, rustling the seadweller’s long strands of hair and Jikiro’s ponytail - but luckily there were only a few scattered clouds, and it wasn’t supposed to rain. He wished there was more moonlight - green moon was half, pink a crescent, but whatever, magic could make up the difference.
Jikiro snapped his fingers, and various floating teal lights surrounded the two mages as he took out the primary copy of his spell. Now they could see just fine.
“Okay, Linnae, your time to shine. Fill two of those pots for now, fill others if it seems like I’m struggling. I don’t wanna overcharge myself unless I need to.”
He was pretty good at drawing power - the nature of his magic meant he’d been naturally doing so with ink ever since he’d first started learning to cast - but it didn’t hurt to start slow and amp things up if they needed to.
The first part involved reading the incantation to hone in on Lizzie’s location - no point even attempting the sending spell if they couldn’t find her.
Jikiro didn’t need to breathe, but he inhaled deeply anyway and started reciting his spell in East Alternian.
Words to lock onto the faint frequency of his own magic that lingered in the other world, just as Viltau had suggested. When his matesprit had suggested it, he’d been thrilled by the possibility, if unsure that it would work.
But it had. It had taken a few spells and some waiting, but he’d detected it.
Now symbols made of water-turned-ink rose into the air from the pots Linnae had filled and floated around them - slowly at first, going faster as the tealblood spoke.
He was reminded uncomfortably of his deal with the ink demon.
Still he kept reading, voice steady, every word pronounced perfectly as he finished and waited for the spell to take full effect.
Then…the symbols froze. Became gray instead of iridescent teal-black.
His heart plunged.
“Linnae! More powe -”
Then they kept going, if more slowly, color mostly restored.
Jikiro blinked.
Now the spell stabilized, felt fine.
What the hell had that been?
Whatever. He could figure it out later - the connection they now had to the frequency of the other world wouldn’t last forever.
But he didn’t mind that there was now a third pot of water. They might need it if that happened again.
Now for the sending spell. He put the first sheet of paper back in its folder - didn’t need that for the moment.
If this worked properly, the words would appear in front of Lizzie, no matter where she was in the other world. If she was asleep, they’d wake her up, the magic insistently nudging her back to consciousness.
“Lizzie Eizzil.” He said, needing her full name to ensure it would reach her. “It’s Jikiro. Hold tight wherever you are, because we’re gonna get Mesier Beldon to rescue you - just uh, don’t freak out when you see him as a dragon. He’s there for his matesprit, Chimer Latrai, and then he’ll get you too. I’m about to send a beacon through; if you touch it, it’ll tag you with a magical aura he’ll use to find you easily.”
He summoned more of the same teal lights that illuminated his and Lizzie’s work, three of them joined together, whirling as the letters did, and then -
- vanished, gone to another world. He couldn’t sense them anymore.
Even though he knew what would happen - even though he’d been the one to confirm it himself - Jikiro still blinked his teal-black eyes in shock.
“And - Tira says third place is just the beginning, that he’s gonna make sure - “
The moonlight turned gray.
Just for a few moments.
For a few moments, everything stopped.
Then it came back.
Jikiro swallowed, but continued.
“ - he’s gonna bring home the gold before you get back.”
He cut the connection, trying not to freak out - Linnae was here, he had to keep it together.
He’d succeeded, he knew. He’d felt the sending go through - Lizzie must be alive.
But what the hell had happened?
What was that gray?
He couldn’t detect any lingering magical corruption or disturbance.
It was as if nothing had happened at all.
Jikiro knew what he’d seen, though.
For the first time since she’d died, he wished Izanam Takami was still alive.
He would have asked her if, in all her sweeps, she'd ever seen anything like this before.
This is the twenty-sixth and final part of the O Maker Mine plot, Reunion. It is preceded by Rewind and followed by the beginning of the next plot, Sacrament, Fracture.
Really I just wanted to draw Arty making funny faces.
Quilis Kelter - @nihils-trolls
Glasya Elliss - @raitrolling
The music is from Wildfire by the Wombats.
So witness me now, o maker mine; grown into a self beyond your caged design.