Chapter 2-51

Traveling through our domain was an odd experience. Not disorienting, I’d never had such a firm certainty of my own position in the world, but surreal. We seemed to be walking, but I felt as though the landscape was shifting around me, rather than me moving through it.

We found ourselves at Sati’s section of the domain in fairly short order. I could feel her influence increasing, although my will was still preeminent. The feeling made me uncomfortable, though Sati fell in at my side and took my hand, apparently basking in the sensation. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy the feeling of power over my vas, quite the opposite. That feeling was intoxicating, in a way that made me wary of my own judgment.

We knew that the rune of hubris had embedded itself into Ramana’s working. A spell he had supposedly formed to dole out his knowledge to his daughters. It was easy to locate. Not only had I seen it in Sati’s inner world, but I also felt the intrusion of the god-king’s power like a splinter in my mind.

Within our domain the throne that represented this spell was far more ostentatious. A great gilded thing, shaped from mana wood and graced with broken shards of stone from the Black Wastes. That stone was incredibly dangerous to quarry, so it served as yet another display of his power, or his disregard for human life.

The throne sat atop a ziggurat of the same black stone, and for a moment the world around us shook with rolling thunder. The sky darkened with ugly, ominous clouds, and lightning clawed at the fog-shrouded ground.

It took a moment for me to realize that Sati was squeezing my arm, shouting something to me that was buried in the thunder. Not that any simple noise could stop us from communicating in that space, it was my rage that drowned her out.

I took a deep breath, and then another trying to let go of my anger. Hate was an addictive poison, one that I couldn’t afford to indulge, even as the scene before me felt like King Ramana was spitting in my face.

“I’m sorry,” I said to Sati, who was staring at me with wide and frightened eyes. “The temple this is modeled after is one I recognize. One that I take exception to Ramana using for his spell.”

She nodded uncertainly. “Let’s just hurry to the top then.” She hugged my arm to her tightly, as though to remind me of her presence. The sensation, and her concern, helped to ground me and chase away my lingering outrage.

We hurried, finding ourselves at the top of the ziggurat in only a couple of steps. I was surprised, however, to find someone waiting for us. It wasn’t a facsimile of Ramana, as I’d almost expected, but a figure of golden light. A humanoid spirit, with strong and refined anima, and an aspect that reminded me of Myta.

“I wondered where you’d gotten to,” I muttered the words mostly to myself, but the spirit cocked their featureless face at me quizzically.

“I have always been here.” The spirit’s voice was like a warm, wet breeze before a thunderstorm. Heavy with the promise of rain about to break. “You offer me the unwanted, and I consume for you. I cleanse.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “You took Myta’s shame when you were born, contained it. Have you been holding it al this time?”

This spirit had once been one of the Pure, that Myta and I had transformed when they rose from a powerful monk’s ****. I was a little wary of them, but not overly concerned. Spirits usually retained the memories of their origin being, but they often had very different outlooks. With the change that Myta and I had pushed upon this one, I suspected they were far better disposed toward me than their originator had been.

“Shame was bound, pinned. Became unbound, unpinned. Released. Came here. Pride and pain are bound, pinned.”

I spent some time working through that, before I thought I understood.

“The seal in my spirit held a rune for shame. That was holding the corrupted mana in place.” The spirit nodded, seeming to remember some if its human mannerisms. “When I removed that rune, you were able to cleanse her corrupt mana. But that became anima, she’s been manifesting it as a weapon.”

The spirit nodded again, which didn’t really clear up my confusion. Fair enough, as I hadn’t actually asked a question.

“Will she still be able to use the glaive?” I asked the spirit, who shrugged in response.

“Anima changed, remade. Weapon still there. Not for me.”

I could feel its disinterest. Now that Myta didn’t need the spirit’s aid, it didn’t care what the aftereffects might be. I couldn’t even be annoyed by that. Young or simple spirits were all the same way, if something didn’t fall directly into their purview then they would neither understand nor care about it.

“We’re here to help Sati’s hubris.” I said to the spirit. “It should be centered here.” I pointed to the throne, and the former monk bobbed its head excitedly.

“Bound here, pinned below.”

“I see.” I turned to Sati. “I think that it’s saying that, like Myta, your seal will keep the infected mana in your spirit. It’s ‘bound’ here by the rune, and ‘pinned’ by my own seal.” The spirit made a noise like metal wind chimes, which I took as confirmation.

“So if we can remove this rune, you already know how to alter the seal.” Sati sounded mildly impatient, and I couldn’t blame her, she didn’t understand why this mattered. But I should have realized the danger here much sooner.

“The seals join us together by linking our aspects. When I altered Myta’s link it was falling apart, because it had been tied to her soul sickness. A sickness that had been healed. I needed to replace that rune in my spirit with one that represented her true aspect, and I needed her help to create that rune. She has a level of self-awareness that I’m not sure you do. Even if you understand yourself that well, I can’t claim the same.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Sati protested. “People change and evolve all the time. Aspects aren’t fixed, and you don’t need to have some perfect understanding of them to use them. No one really understands even their own aspect perfectly.”

I was at a loss for a moment. I’d been briefly swept up in my worry, letting myself dwell on perceived problems, rather than the obvious truths she pointed out.

“You’re right,” I shook my head. “Of course you’re right. We just need a rune that’s close enough to tie to you, and we will need to forge it into my seal. We should check yours as well, just in case. Myta’s didn’t need to be altered, but there’s no reason to expect that they’d be exactly the same.”

I turned back to the spirit, wondering what to do about our unexpected guest. In truth, I wasn’t sure I needed to do anything. They had only been an aid to us so far, at least to the best of my knowledge.

“Do you have a name? Or a way you would prefer to be addressed?”

The spirit hesitated, and then shook their head. I imagined they had considered giving me the name of the monk they had originated from, but that would hardly be fitting now, changed as they were.

“Do you mind if I call you Tharsis?” I asked, and the spirit inclined their head in acceptance, seeming pleased enough with the new name.

“Well, Tharsis,” I continued. “It’s our intention to purge this rune, and adjust Sati’s bond. I hope that doesn’t leave you with nothing to do here.”

The spirit chimed again, which in this case I took as approval of our plan. It wasn’t as though we would have decided against cleansing Sati in any case, so their acceptance was in everyone’s best interests.

I examined the rune, cautiously probing its edges with my senses. I didn’t need Tharsis to move so that I could look, I just needed to direct my attention through the fabric of our domain.

“This is worse than I’d hoped.” I winced as I looked at Sati, after my examination. “It’s fused with the spell. Something about Ramana’s intent synergized with the intent of the rune. I’m not sure we can remove one without the other.”

“Then we remove the spell.” The apsara feigned indifference, but I could feel her internal conflict. That spell was part of her birthright, a gift from her father. It contained the knowledge and wisdom of a powerful, ancient god.

“It only holds the lessons he wanted me to learn.” Sati answered my thoughts, working to convince herself, as much as me. “Whatever knowledge he offered, it’s locked behind the ‘wisdom’ he wanted to impart, and I've already seen the fruits of that. His ‘wisdom’ cost me Rina, and any other chance for trust or companionship I might have had in my youth. I’ll take my chances, finding my own way.”

I nodded in acceptance of her words. I hated the idea of destroying so much knowledge. But what good was knowledge, or power, if it couldn’t bring you peace? Ramana had sacrificed happiness on the altar of power, and I thought he was poorer for it. It was no wonder that the rune of hubris had infected his spell. The working had already been meant to blind Sati to any possible path except his.

I joined my will with Sati, and together we prodded at the edges of Ramana’s spell. I could feel the old god’s will in the mana, it was immense, and deep, and solid like a mountain. But the apsara and I were supreme in this space. The domain didn’t just bend to our will, it was our will. With glacial slowness we separated from that mountain, not by moving it, but by removing ourselves from it.

Strangely, I could sense that Ramana’s lingering will was indifferent to our actions. Whatever intention he had imbued in the spell, it didn’t include lingering where it wasn’t wanted. Even so, the effort was intense, and Sati and I found ourselves unable to sever the final link between her spirit and the construct. We focused and strained until our souls ached, and I had little doubt that our bodies were sweating blood from the effort, but within the domain the ziggurat was still connected by a thin dirt path through the sea of mist.

“Fuck!” Sati screamed in frustration, falling to her knees and striking the dirt with her fists. “Why won’t you least me alone!”

Her voice was ragged with emotion, not just anger, but grief and desperation as well. I knelt at her side, wrapping my arms around her shoulders, and just offering my presence as support. When she finished exhausting her rage, I spoke.

“Perhaps we’re looking at this wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Sati’s voice was dull with the emptiness of the emotionally exhausted.

“The spell isn’t fighting us,” I replied. “Something else is keeping Ramana’s knowledge here, and I think it must be your will.

“It’s difficult to let go of your past, trust me I know.” Sati stared at me with muted anger as I continued. “No matter how much you want to forget or ignore your roots, those things shape you. You can’t just reject the past. You need to acknowledge the effects it has had on you, and work to change what you don't want. Only by accepting your past influences can you move past them.”