205. The Straddler of Souls

  Inside Serac Edin, there were two souls.

  No, that wasn’t quite right. There were two souls, and Serac Edin belonged to both of them? Nope. That wasn’t it, either.

  A puzzle had followed Serac since all the way back in Naraka. Along her journey, she’d picked up some pieces to help complete the puzzle. More often than not, however, those pieces only served to further muddle the picture. Perhaps none more so than this latest. Namely, the fusion and immediate fission with her third entity.

  [Chamber Three: Hair to Hair]

  Serac Edin had squeezed the trigger. She herself and none other. But the moment she did, she split into two. The physical being whose hand wrapped around REVOLVER’s grip. And the shadow self who jumped out and cackled with maniacal glee.

  [TIDEWATCH: Your OATH has been breached. You now have #*%&… A new cycle @^$#…]

  Pathsight glitched out, evidently unprepared for the extraordinary set of circumstances. An Oathkeeper [Anointed] with [the Keeper’s Balm], wandering the Day-side world at Night until she purposefully breached her [Oath]. How the hell were rules meant to be enforced when they’d been bent every which way and broken to bits?

  Forget Pathsight. Serac had far more pressing matters to attend to. Starting with finally getting eyeballs on her damn Oathborn familiar! And there it was, hanging in the air exactly where the Oathkeeper had aimed her shot—the clump of bunched-up skyveils from which DREAMPROWLER had made its escape. But before Serac could get a good look at the thing…

  [WARNING: Frenzy Imminent]

  Oh, for gods’ sake! The red haze descended, yet again obscuring Serac’s vision of her own summon/familiar/stand. But… was that really what happened?

  A Rakshasa could acclimate herself to any sort of torture. Apparently, that even held true for Frenzy, just one step away from ‘permadeath’.

  On this occasion, Serac felt the change as barely anything more than a red filter. She stayed on her feet and kept a firm grip on REVOLVER, as ready for a fight as she’d ever been. Even her senses of sight and hearing held up. To wit, Realgar beside her, eyes bulging in disbelief, was his usual Mriga self. His sputtering admonishments even retained their haughty overtones.

  Was it simply that she was becoming old hat at this? Or was there something innate in Serac that granted her greater freedom even in a state of Frenzy?

  VOIDLING’s figure, however, had reverted to that of a ‘maceman of unremarkable stature’, its body, face, and limbs covered over by lurching shadows. Serac, with her newfound clarity of mind, entertained a funny thought. Maybe I’m not missing anything. Maybe this is what VOIDLING looks like, Frenzy or no!

  Her reframing of VOIDLING allowed her to notice more of its features. Like its now obvious slouch, kind of like a cat but not really. Like its holding itself in place by grabbing the skyveils as if they were solid—the same trick DREAMPROWLER had pulled only moments ago. And last but not least, the presence of a metallic band along its forehead, front on where Serac’s wrapped around the back of her head. In other words, the inverse of her Circlet.

  Or is it the obverse? Something or someone whispered the question inside Serac’s head. She chose to ignore it.

  Not that it was much of a choice. The world around her, destabilized by the reckless actions of an Oathbreaker, deteriorated rapidly.

  Realgar shouted something in genuine concern. But his words were now utterly silent, cut out by thick veils that overlapped two worlds. Soon, even his figure faded into nothing more than shadows behind a [Dusklit] curtain. Then the whole sarcophagus of a room went the same way, its cadaverous floor falling away under a Rakshasa’s feet.

  Serac fell. Slowly and sluggishly as though through [Twilight]. She felt movement at the base of her neck. A moment later, a lone butterfly emerged from her collars, beating its variegated WINGS furiously in an effort to get away. She couldn’t blame it. For she meant to go somewhere an [Oathbound] creature couldn’t follow.

  Before she could complete the journey, however, she had to do something about her own inability to cross between two worlds. Pathsight had once deemed her a creature of Night, shortly before her Breachspawn had forcibly pulled her into the world of Day. And now, she’d be stuck here with all the Mrigas she’d befriended. Unless…

  She looked up at VOIDLING. Their eyes met—dogged defiance with/against impish glee. The monster—her shadow self—raised its polemace and gave it a casual flick.

  [Breachspawn Technique: EXCEED THY GRASP]

  A splash of ink to represent tree. The polemace stretched in the blink of an eye, its metallic head presenting itself for a falling soul to grasp. The invitation couldn’t be clearer. Serac accepted without hesitation. VOIDLING retracted its weapon, dragging its Oathkeeper through the air for a rendezvous at its ‘exit point’—to together straddle two worlds.

  As Serac ‘flew’, however, she was accosted by a wholly unexpected visitor. The Day-side world’s one last surprise for a would-be cycle-dodger.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  The butterflies, plural, were back. Multiples of Jasper aft’Hanafin’s VEILWINGS had clumped together, the better to carry one item with their combined strength. It was a letter. Of course it was. Earthy-red seal on well-worn envelope.

  Having already breached her [Oath], there was no merit for Serac to say ‘yes’ to anything. She nevertheless snatched the letter mid-flight, allowing the courier job to pass from butterflies to Rakshasa.

  Why? Who could say why wayward souls did what they did during the Gloaming hours? Serac had only one thought as she tucked the letter into her coat pocket. That she wished for this delivery to go much smoother than her last one.

  Little did she know just how prescient this wish would turn out to be.

  The world cycled over, even before the polemace had shrunk back to its wielder. Serac finished her flight on the other side, momentum causing her to nearly run head-first into VOIDLING’s shadowy visage. But the maceman gave its weapon another casual, almost contemptuous flick.

  Serac lost her grip. Now bereft of curtains to grab onto, both she and her Breachspawn fell at full speed, one of them a little more gracefully than the other. Not one Ksana later, Serac crash-landed on a solid surface.

  [265!]

  [88!]

  Just lovely. Some nice fall damage to start the cycle. The saving grace being Serac had reconstituted, losing just about [14,000 ?] of Liminal Karma in exchange for a clean bill of Health, Mana, and Cartridge. Not a terrible trade, especially since the fall damage had been ‘shared’ with VOIDLING. Speaking of which…

  The maceman had fallen the same height as its Oathkeeper, but it’d done so with a soft landing. Its shadowy limbs barely made a sound as they bent to absorb the impact. No magic behind the feat (nor feet). Pure grace and athleticism. Kind of like a cat but not really.

  As VOIDLING stood to its full (but slightly slouching) height, it pointed at Serac and laughed. The gesture was soundless yet unmistakable in its nature. No anger at having to share the damage. Only mockery of its Oathkeeper’s blunder.

  Serac saw red(der), but she forced herself to rein in her own emotions. This interaction was already vastly improved over the last time she’d ‘summoned’ her Oathborn/Breachspawn. But, recalling this last time, Serac couldn’t help but tighten her grip on REVOLVER and peer into VOIDLING’s face.

  There wasn’t much to peer into, most of said face being lurching shadows with the occasional peek of a partial Circlet. What was clear from VOIDLING’s demeanor, however, was its lack of aggression toward Serac. Whatever violence it sought to fill the void at its own heart had apparently found a different target.

  Serac didn’t quite trust the validity let alone the permanence of her findings. But she did, at least for now, file it away as good news. On their last encounter, VOIDLING had given every indication of being an out-of-control berserker. Could it be that it had more self-discipline or at least sense of purpose than Serac had given it credit for?

  Even as an Oathbreaker pondered the implications of her latest breach, Tidereign did its Realm-y thing around her. Day might have long ended, but Night had just begun. The veils thinned, soon to reveal exactly where Serac and her Breachspawn had landed.

  Before she saw the Night, she first heard and read it. A muffled conversation between two souls, both spraying fresh ripples with their fluctuant emotions. As luck would have it, Serac recognized both of them—one by ripple signature and the other by voice. Which was why she couldn’t resist calling across the thinning veils, making it abundantly clear where her allegiance lay.

  “Well said, tabbycat! Now, let’s give this doctor a taste of his own medicine.”

  The veils cleared. Serac found herself in a large room, much more suited to a boss battle than a stuffy elevator. It was a very strange room at that, and for countless reasons, but her travelogue entry could wait.

  Two Tiryagas shifted their attention away from each other and onto the newcomer(s). One was Oriole the tabbycat, his Wayfaring status still hidden by some unknown mechanism. The other, much larger man was the tiger Serac had been chasing all Day long and into the Night. Flint the Butcher, also designated as [GLADIOLUS ere’BRANAGH—Straddler of Worlds].

  “Rakshasa!” Oriole exclaimed, his focus utterly stripped away by surprise. Rookie mistake. “And… is that your Breachspawn?? How in the Keeper’s—”

  [DREAMPROWLER Technique: TIGER MAUL]

  [Breachspawn Technique: THE AXE FORGETS]

  The man called Gladiolus never looked more like a tiger as he leapt at his fellow Tiryaga, fully intent on ripping the careless tabbycat to shreds. But VOIDLING had reacted, faster even than its Oathkeeper. It met [Tiger Maul] blow for blow with its defensive flurry. In the end, the two figures broke off, neither worse for wear.

  So, VOIDLING has a mind of its own, even when it’s decided to ‘co-operate’, Serac observed ruefully. Though, in all honesty, she hadn’t expected anything different. Either way, she’d gained a powerful new ally, much needed to put an end to a fight that had dragged on for far too—

  [TIDEWATCH: A new cycle has begun. Your OATH remains breached.]

  [WARNING: Frenzy Imminent]

  [TIDEWATCH: Your Oathborn has transmuted into a Breachspawn. You now have 60 seconds to rebind your Breachspawn.]

  Oh, for gods’ sake!

  The preceding lag—presumably Pathsight trying to make sense of all the irregularities—had given Serac false hope. This was a repeat of the first encounter, after all, with her having to smite VOIDLING in order to prevent permanent Frenzy.

  So be it. Serac had made up her mind, and she wasn’t going to deviate from the plan. The first priority was to smite Flint the Butcher. And if she still had to deal with VOIDLING after that…

  Well then, guess we better hurry.

  Gladiolus reared up, SCALPEL glinting against the red Night. Oriole’s eyes too gleamed as he scanned VOIDLING and its imperiled Oathkeeper. The tiger showed no qualms about cutting down whoever or whatever he needed to win a fight. The same couldn’t be said for the tabbycat.

  As for Serac—both of her—they were on the exact same page. Unity of purpose and union of the soul. Their shared pride—their combined arrogance—wouldn’t stand for an enemy slipping out of their grasp a third time.

  “You like DREAMING, don’t you, tiger?” Serac taunted, voice wholly her own. “Well, you’re in luck. Because I’m here to put you to sleep forever.”

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