Profundus Inferni - Part 1

The silence sat over them like a suffocating fog. Moira and Tricia glanced between each other uncertainly, while John's eyes remained locked on the images before him until his quivering fingers found the strength to slam the book closed once more.

"So, which one of you wants to tell me how fucked I am?" John finally muttered, the words accompanied by a **** chuckle.

"This is not common by any means, but it's not necessarily an ill omen," Moira said. Her words were slow and carefully chosen, her fingers drifting across the cover of the book as she spoke. "Not ill for the future, at least; perhaps a sign of how gruesome what you've already undergone was. Mages who have close brushes with their own mortality sometimes report seeing visions, dreams of things not of this world. Some of those dreams have simply become commonly shared enough to warrant further study."

"Commonly shared enough for a sketch artist," John scoffed.

"Gaia's existence is not a matter of question, but of interpretation," Tricia intoned quietly. Her drones continued to work in the background, but for a change, John seemed to have every ounce of her ample attention. "Given the prevalence of deities representing **** in the stories and legends of most cultures, it should not be surprising that there does indeed happen to be a goddess watching over whatever awaits us. But answering any deeper questions becomes a matter of trust and the quality of sources available."

"I know I might not have seemed like it these last few days, but I am still a reliable source. At least, I am now." Despite the conviction of his words, John threw a cautious glance to the drones. "I am back to normal, aren't I?"

"For the most part. You should be aware that the damage you sustained to your abdomen did not fully heal. It seems that the critical failure of your-"

"Yeah, I've got a scar. I saw that already," John interrupted. "But I'm back to normal now? My vitals, hormones, all that?"

"Perfectly nominal," Tricia confirmed.

"Then my head's clear. The memories are a little fuzzy even now, but..."

"I would caution you against placing too much trust in any 'visions' you may have experienced, regardless of your adrenal system's return to normal function," Tricia advised John as he paused to re-examine the creature's words internally. "Your certainty is compelling to be sure, but in matters such as this, there is no telling the effects that coming so close to the land of **** could have on one's mind. Let alone the possibility for trickery or manipulation from a being we hardly understand."

"John, do you think you learned something useful...?" Moira asked, her concerns as his friend rapidly falling out of view behind the impenetrable face of the Warden.

"It's hard to tell. They were being so vague, and I could barely think, let alone talk," John admitted, replaying the conversation in his mind. Even visualizing that pale, furred figure was enough to set him on edge, but he **** himself to press onward, remembering as much of her words as he could. "I think she wanted me to do her a favor."

"You think that a goddess asked you for a favor?" Moira asked.

"You don't believe me?"

"I would prefer not to," Moira cautioned, a grim look crossing her features. "Especially a goddess of ****. Direct interventions by the goddesses of this world rarely come without complications. Even our Lady, blessed be her will, only calls out to her Wardens in times of great and cataclysmic danger. Though her word and her orders are sacrosanct, the mere fact that they are whispered into the ears of her Wardens means something terrible and tragic is happening. If a goddess of **** sees fit to seek aid from the mortal realm, what ruinous events are about to befall us?"

"I'm pretty sure it's related to the Northern Ashes." John's words betrayed his own doubts, but he nodded in spite of that. "She asked me to get rid of the ones that 'defile the natural order', and who 'think themselves our masters'. Then she said to strike where she couldn't reach, and to free Hallahae from his bindings."

Whether she believed John had truly seen something or not, John's words deeply unnerved Moira. Her jaw clenched as tightly as her grip around the hilt of the hammer at her side, and she pulled her arm in to cover more of herself with her blessed shield. "Bindings? Did you not say you saw the Black Dog of **** there as well?"

"Yeah, I don't think I understand that part, but I know it's what she said." This time, there was no doubt; John might have had reason to hesitate over interpreting a goddess' words, but he at least knew what words they had been. "I think- yeah, I definitely think the Northern Ashes are closer to breaching whatever lies beyond than we realized."

"If they were, why would this goddess require your aid?" Moira asked skeptically. "If they seek to breach her realm, they will find her awaiting them, no doubt."

"You said Xanthia is strong. Is she stronger than any of the other necromancers that have tried this?" John ventured. "What if she's actually a threat...?"

"Then we would all be better served by drinking the strongest poisons we can find, that our deaths might at least be quick and lasting." The words were spoken without real fear, but there was a solemn weight to their absolute finality that hung over them like a guillotine affixed to their souls. "She is no threat to Ereshkigal, of that I am certain. No one, not even a Deity, has ever managed to best a Fragment in person. Even their avatars shake the lands and turn the tides of war in an instant. If Xanthia truly were capable of entering a goddess' domain and besting her, Adantia would have been slaughtered without mercy."

"That... that bad, huh?" John said, eyes dropping back to the book nervously. Jiina's knowledge echoed in his mind. What Fragment had been slain that the world was unaware of? John wished he could ask, but her warning of the dangers of that knowledge hung over him with a heavier presence than he could put words to.

"If you were not delusional," Moira said after a breath, the dreary certainty leaving her tone slowly, like the tide ebbing away from a ruined shoreline, "and you are at least close to her intentions, the safer assumption would be that they have some way of evading her, or that her hands are otherwise tied in some manner. Even that would imply some great achievement on their part that troubles me beyond measure, but at least it would not make things hopeless."

"You think they might actually be getting close enough to bother her?" John couldn't keep the surprise from his voice... or the hope. The latter seemed to alarm Moira.

"I think it is quite easy to anger a goddess by trampling into her domain, regardless of whether the goal you seek is achievable or not," Moira clarified, sending John a worried frown. "John, you are clearly as uncertain about what you saw as any of us. I hope you are not choosing to read what you wish into their words."

"No," John said after a moment. A weary breath crawled its way out of him. "No, just wishing you would have said yes."

Empathy touched on Moira's features—but not enough to wear away the deep concern now outlining them.

"I will conduct a more extensive analysis of the texts available on the Gorbachev databases I have access to," Tricia offered, swiveling toward the door without waiting for a reaction. "Necromancers and goddesses of **** were not fields of study that my people were known to focus coordinated efforts on. All the same, a Gorbachev taking a fancy in a particular subject is still the equivalent of a hundred other Abyssals dedicating their full attention to the matter. There is a chance at least one of my relatives found some sort of fascination in the macabre. I will return shortly to finish our evaluations, now that you have awoken."

"I appreciate it. Send anything you find to me through your drones, please. As much as I'd like to avoid thinking about them, I..." John shivered as Tricia left the room, his voice growing a little quieter as he turned back to Moira. "I'm just glad I don't need sleep, because I think it's not going to come easily any time soon."

"Don't go saying things like that already," Moira groaned. "Your refusal to rest was what brought on this mess in the first place!"

"Yeah. I know, I'm sorry. Again," John emphasized with a little grimace. "We missed nearly three days because of me, too. Oh, fuck! What about Julianna? The whole thing with you two- oh, right, um-"

Moira sighed and blushed as John began to stammer, the memory of the way he'd last seen Kim and Moira replaying in his mind. "If you mention our attempts to sway you, I will knock you back out, John Newman," she warned dangerously, closing her eyes and crossing her arms in an attempt to avoid the shame reflected in his eyes. "Julianna is quite frustrated. Despite her harsh words toward you, I suspect she was already quite impressed by the rate at which she grew during only two days of training."

"What did you tell her, anyway?"

"The truth. Or enough of it, at least," Moira harrumphed. "I told her that you had been dealt significant enough damage to leave a lasting wound despite your normal healing abilities. We told her that we had made the decision to cease all training to ensure that no further damage was done, and to ensure all of us are at our absolute best when the war begins. I merely left out the exact extent of the damage done to you, as well as your current state, though by Gaia's mercy we'd patched you up as best we could by then regardless."

"And then I slept for two days," John sighed.

"You were in a coma. If you were intelligent enough to sleep, we could have avoided this," Moira challenged.

"Yeah, yeah." John waved dismissively at the snark, though his lips curled just as much as the Warden's. "Did I miss anything else while I was out?"

"Well, there was a bit of good news," Moira said encouragingly. "My father met up with Adantia late last night. The protection wards on her phone were too strong to track her as she moved, but she finally felt safe enough to settle down and send us her coordinates early yesterday afternoon. Healing a mage of her power takes time, but my father believes he'll have her fully restored by the time that we join them."

"Did you happen to tell them about what happened?" John winced at the idea of receiving yet another berating for this stupidity once they reached the front.

"I did not," Moira admitted. Her eyes left his, a touch of shame creeping onto her features. "It would not have mattered. They are in the field, and need to remain focused on their mission. All telling them would have done was make them worry until they heard further news... and I was certain that you would wake up. I could not allow myself to consider otherwise."

"Thank you, Moira. For everything."

Moira jumped a bit as John's hand embraced her armored digits. Despite the metal, there was a softness in the touch as she rubbed her fingers along his. John let himself enjoy the sensation for a brief time, then returned to the matter at hand with a sigh.

"And you were right, I did wake up. Lucky me, woke up just in time to start the planning. I'll do a full catalog of our supplies today; my mind's a bit too fuzzy to remember the specifics, but I think I was stupid enough to drink a good chunk of the healing potions we'd made. Ask Tricia to send over a list of any preparations you need from my end, when you want me to-"

"We will handle the preparations, John." Moira's voice was firm now, but not unkind. Her hand rested on John's chest, but there was a tenderness to it, a warmth in the way her fingers pressed against him as if ensuring he were real. "I will ensure that you are informed of when to be here and what to expect—but not until the end of the day tomorrow. You need to rest and ease your mind on matters of this sort for as long as you can."

"Moira, I'm f-" John flinched hard enough to crinkle his nose as the words reflexively sprang to his lips. That phrase was certainly ruined for the foreseeable future. "I'm healthy now, remember? You don't need to baby me. It's just planning. Bureaucracy. Logistics."

Moira didn't find the shudder he added to the last word nearly as amusing as he did, despite his most devilish smile.

"I may call you a fool, even suicidal, but I've never come this close to losing you before, John. Never watched you slip into the dark beyond while I was kneeling over you," Moira warned. Her voice was like steel, but her fingers shivered against his chest.

"You're not going to lose me."

"And doing this will help me to believe that," Moira pleaded. "Managing the Order is my domain, and we will be the ones conducting the bulk of this operation. You may brew your potions, you may craft your gear, you may speak and rally your forces. But I will handle matters of transportation and planning. I don't even want you to think of the war, as much as it can be avoided. No dwelling, no planning involvement, no thoughts of goddesses or ****, no unnecessary stress, and no training. For me. Please."

"I... alright, okay. I'll at least try," John promised.

"That's good enough for me. You keep trying to hold yourself together, John. And I'll put you back together when you can't." Moira leaned in with an intensity that John wasn't used to from the imposing Warden. Her fingers gripped the back of his head like velvet iron, a secure embrace as she pressed her lips to his forehead. "Just... give me a little break between heart attacks, please."

"I already promised to try," John said, his voice more playful this time.

"Good lad. Now, call your other lovers," Moira instructed, pointing at him authoritatively as she turned for the door. "We've been keeping them updated, but they'll want to hear that you're awake—and they'll be overjoyed to hear it from you directly!"

"Yeah, no kidding," John mumbled. He could only imagine what had been going through everyone's minds. They'd been walking on eggshells the last he'd seen him, and he... honestly, he was terrified to think of what he might have said to them. He remembered being rude to Etriyya, of pointing the finger at her to direct attention away from himself. Had he burned any bridges with his creations, his little otherworldly family?

"Only one way to find out." John didn't even wait to warp back. The walk from the training building to the house would've felt like an eternity, and he didn't even know if they would all be home. Instead he turned to the rings on his hand, twisting the one tied to Sophia's first.

"Sophia? Sophia, can you hear me?"

"...Father?! Tell me I'm not imagining this!"

"Probably could have built a little LED light on the rings, now that you mention it," John admitted over the connection, trying hard not to chuckle across the mental bridge. "I hope nobody has gone crazy and just assumed I was talking to them..."

"It is you! Father, I'm so glad that you're awake," Sophia's usual level enthusiasm was forgotten, her voice all but a cry of ecstasy to hear the sound of his thoughts once more.

"I know I was stupid. I have a lot of apologies to make, too. I just wanted to let you all know that I woke up a few minutes ago. I'm going to check in with Tricia one more time before I come back, make sure that my vitals are really-"

"Father, we need you to come home as soon as you can. Aria is gone."

The qualifier of 'unnecessary' was debatable, but any attempts to avoid stress were forgotten in an instant. John's free hand locked on the railing of the medical bed to steady himself as he tensed instinctively, already preparing to warp across the bridge between worlds, medical evaluations be damned.

"What do you mean, 'gone', Sophia?"

"She disappeared shortly after you left. Not long before Tricia informed us of what had happened to you through her drones," Sophia's voice resounded in his mind, back to its usual state of calmness, though with the edge of a mother's concern for her nestling. "We don't know what happened to her."