RE: Monarch

Catching the electric orb with my gauntlet was repeatable—ensuring that the bolt of discharge hit the nearby tree, showering the abomination with sparks and throwing off its aim, was not. Kastramoth, likewise, could not be relied upon to finish the abominations in a timely manner. But the crowning impossibility came at the end: the critical moment when I’d thrown the shattered sword breaker. It was a feat so astronomical it would have been easy to chalk it up to the fates, even the gods themselves. But I knew pure luck when I saw it.

That was it, in the end. We were lucky.

I watched the gauntlet dissipate with muted interest, disintegrating to ash. The violet inscription lettering inflamed on my skin briefly. It was far more complicated than the other inscriptions, each line made up of tiny individual lettering, some inverted, some backwards. It could have almost be beautiful, if I didn’t know what it was. If I hadn’t sworn to never invoke it, only to do so anyway at the first sign of crisis. Slowly, it faded to black and then gray, then disappeared into the pigment of the skin beneath, ink swirling away like water drained by sinkholes. I shook my head.

“Cairn,” Maya’s voice called from behind me, cautious. “What was that?”

My mind moved backwards, as I contemplated how to answer.

/////

It had been an average day in the enclave when Ozra approached me. There had been no real indication or early warning he was coming. I’d seen him two months prior during one of our last “strategy sessions,” long discussions on the future that always started cordial, and ended resembling the interrogations I’d undergone at their hands, sans violence. I knew from that prior experience that Ozra had some sort of method to discern truth from lie, so I went out of my way to present a front of honesty to make up for the aspects of the discussion that would read as falsehoods, such as the truth of my curse or my nascent plans for when Thoth had fallen.

As a result, Ozra knew more about my plans for the future than anyone, Maya included. It somehow managed to make me even more wary of him than I already was. Which is why, when I was under the knife on the inscription table, his face floating into my eyeline from above, head ensconced in the harsh light from the mana lamp in an almost perverted halo, my heart immediately kicked into overdrive.

I tried to keep my expression neutral but felt that I had inevitably failed. “Arch-fiend.”

“Progeny,” Ozra replied. I frowned at the title. It was new, and I wasn’t sure I liked the implications it brought. Ozra was wearing a simple robe that left him indistinguishable from any other infernal in the enclave, but he should not have been able to set foot in this place, or anywhere within the enclave for that matter.

“Why are you here? And for that matter, how?” I asked carefully.

He was studying the inscriptions across my body with the eye of a scholar or academic, brows eventually coming down in a puzzled frown. “Based on our previous conversations, I understand the intent of these.” He held out a finger but did not touch my skin, tracing the lines. “You are shoring up weaknesses. You don’t have time for rout, impractical study of magic that takes years before it renders utility. Even this,” he pointed to the suicide inscription across my chest, “Stems from not cowardice, but understanding. That there are some fates worse than death.” His cold eyes returned to mine. “Which leaves the question: why enlist an infernal to work with demonic inscriptions, when you could go straight to the source?”

The question caught me out. I wasn’t fooled by the placid, unmovable act. Ozra was displeased. But the degree of his irritation seemed out of place.

I tried to sit up, and a spike of pain went up my left arm, sharp at first, then slow and pulsing.

“Don’t move,” a voice called out. The infernal that had worked with me on my inscriptions so far. I twisted my head to look at him. He was pushed up against the wall by a greater demon I took to be Ozra’s new second. Ozra’s head slowly swiveled to look at the infernal, who shrunk under his gaze.

“Was that a command?” Ozra challenged. There was an edge in his voice, as if implying that the best answer to the question would be none at all.

The infernal shrank down further. Surprisingly, he found his tongue. “No… not a command. But I-it hasn’t set yet. If you move, you risk ruining it, possibly compromising the surface for any future inscriptions as well.”

Ozra tilted his head towards me. “The stones on that one. I like that. I can see why you chose him. But that still begs the question of why you chose an infernal at all.”

Damn. Ozra was too fixated on this point. I wouldn’t get out of this without giving him an answer. A partial truth would have to suffice.

I spoke carefully. “My mother had a saying. If you find yourself indebted to a man and repay him quickly, you have made a debtor into a friend.”

The side of Ozra’s mouth quirked. “The inverse being, if you continue you borrow, you risk converting friend to enemy.”

A response didn’t seem necessary, so I remained silent.

Ozra sighed. “Whatever the real reason is, the fact remains that what you are doing runs in conflict with the crux of your plan: using whatever power necessary to bring your rogue magician to heel.”

My left arm throbbed as I considered that. There was no question that Ozra and I were diametrically opposed in many ways, but in this, he wasn’t wrong. “What is your solution, then?”

He looked over my inscriptions again. “This is decent enough. Workmanlike, but too exceptional and the infernals will start asking questions. So, continue what you’ve been doing.”

My surprise must have been evident because Ozra made a sound deep in his throat that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle. “And when you’re done with your work here, report to the twilight chambers, and we will… augment. You’re human, so I imagine mana infused gossamer manipulated in the muscle layer will suffice.”

“You’ll kill him.” The infernal at the door exclaimed, then immediately slapped a hand over his mouth and grunted as the greater demon pushed him harder against the wall.

“Careful, mortal,” Ozra said. “You are favored by my progeny, which is the only reason you are still breathing.”

The outburst gave me cause for concern. “Is he right? What’s the risk on this?”

“Practically nil in the right hands.” Ozra looked irritated at having to answer the question. “It will be painful, but you’re not a stranger to that sort of thing.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“So, do we have a deal?” Ozra asked. “You report to us after any new inscription for modification?”

My mind raced, looking for a way out. The last thing I wanted to do was give Ozra even more ownership over me than he already had. “It feels premature. I haven’t even had a chance to fully explore the pedestrian inscriptions, and am far from mastery my own magic. Perhaps it would be better to wait until I have a firmer grasp on things.”

“On the contrary. Your growth is exponential, but the innate problem with rapid progression is that limits become mercurial. That vulnerability, and given your high ambitions and tendency to push yourself, and it seems only logical to prime the odds in your favor. Unless, of course, you have another reason for rejecting my help.” He cocked his head, and I knew that he had me. The way that he framed it had cinched things. It was a clear signal that Ozra would take any further pushback personally.

“… Yes.” I said, finally. It was the last thing I wanted, putting my body in the hands of the demons after everything I’d experienced, but I couldn’t come up with a viable argument against it.

“Excellent.” Ozra smiled. It was an unpleasant expression on his face, too wide, too many teeth. He walked away from the table, his face leaving my sight. “Ravana,” Ozra called out. “Leave the inscriber alive. But adjust his recollection of the afternoon. No need to worry the busybodies at the council with reports of an arch-fiend circumventing their precious wards.”

It some time after, when Ozra’s magician explained the mechanics to me that I began to truly regret the choice. The asmodial inscriptions were an uncomfortable collage of demonic, blood, and death magic. Hardly a heroic combination. Still, as competent as the demons were in this particular field, the fact remained that too much too fast would flood my internal leylines and kill me. So, they’d set up a series of artificial blocks.

I summoned the gauntlet for the first time in the asmodial chambers. The almost hypnotic patterns and beauty of the piece did nothing to hide the disturbing familiarity. It was almost identical to the armor that Ozra had worn during the countless sunderings of the enclave. Ozra himself had come to see the result.

“Good,” Ozra said.

“It feels strange.” I said, flexing the fingers. “Like it’s not really my arm.” It was hard to say how practical it would be.

“That’s because it’s not.”

I looked up in alarm. “What?”

“An exercise in transubstantiation. Nothing to worry about.” Ozra waved my concerns away. “The armor and protection is self-apparent. No need for an aegis when it’s active. But it also acts as a dampening field for outgoing magic, as well as a catalyst to strengthen any weaved or outgoing elemental magic. The more you wear it, the more natural it will feel. Eventually, as with all inscriptions, it will require less mana to maintain.”

I nodded, feeling some relief at the statement. It had taken more than half of my reserves to summon, and I could feel what remained slowly slipping away.

“And the rest?” I asked, unable to suppress my curiosity towards the colorless asmodial inscriptions that covered as much as my body as the visible ones.

“I heeded your words,” Ozra shrugged. “You are learning. Your abilities and repertoire are growing, and there is truth to the concept of drowning in choice.” He gave me a cool look. “But you are a valuable asset, and protecting one’s investments is a simple matter of course.”

A cold chill went through me as I realized what he meant. “It’s all the same inscription.”

Ozra smiled, and tapped a finger against his temple. “For someone who knew practically nothing of magic a short time ago, you are perceptive. Yes. Mortals are far too vulnerable as a rule. This is the solution.”

It recalled the memory of the arch-fiend floating above me on our first meeting, cold blue eyes staring down at me through his visor. Slowly, I saw myself replace him, looking down on my enemies, encased in an evil shell. His title for me, the armor, the way he spoke to me as if I were an eager student rather than a reluctant ward. I had no doubt that Vogrin had relayed the events of sparing of Bacchus. And knowing that, it was an easy jump to deciphering Ozra’s true intent. The arch-fiend wasn’t content to wait until my final rest to begin reshaping me. He wanted to remake me in his image far before my final rest.

“As you become more accustomed to it,” Ozra continued, “the seals will break, and eventually, it will serve as armor that would ransom a kingdom.”

“You’re saying it’s going to spread, then.”

“Yes. Use it well, and regularly, and the rewards will be more than worth the effort.”

I didn’t respond, for fear that any lie would be seen through. Instead, I thanked him for his efforts and left, swearing to myself that I would not use the gauntlet, refusing to let the arch-fiend have his way.

//////

I gave Maya a sad smile and a fraction of the truth. “The fruits of my sin.”

Maya’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth and stopped in the shape of forming a question, like she wanted to ask more but didn’t know how. “I saw the inscriptions before they faded. That was the real thing.” It wasn’t a question. She knew.

After learning what she’d done for me, I couldn’t bring myself to lie. I nodded.

“I cannot guess what you gave them, for them to be willing to go so far. Do not let them control you, Cairn.”

Instead of answering, I turned and walked towards her. I wanted to erase the memory of her dying. Of watching her breathe her last. Of slackened face and sightless eyes. She watched as I approached, curious but not afraid. I wrapped her in my arms, felt her warmth, her heartbeat pulsing in her chest, and buried my face in her shoulder. I hadn’t used her and exploited her kindness only to fail her in the critical moment. She was alive. And at that moment, it was all that mattered.

Maya stiffened in surprise at first. But slowly, I felt her hands circle my waist. “You are shaking.”

“It was close,” I whispered.

“We are all fine. Jorra and Bell are okay. We made it.” Her voice was so soothing it made me ache. I didn’t say anything. Instead, I tried to let the anxiety go. Her hand braced my neck, and the crippling fear I’d suppressed for so long began to drift away. Gentle hands braced against my chest and pushed me back, ending the embrace. She searched my expression. “What happened? Your mind is a tempest.”

“The visions came too late,” I shivered. “Remember Kholis? It was like that, but… worse. Dozens of visions over the span of minutes, instead of hours. I… saw you die, Ni’lend. Over and over. And there was nothing I could do.”

A mix of understanding, sympathy, and something else flooded Maya’s face. She was about to speak when we were interrupted.

“Guys?” Bell called. “You better get over here.”

“What’s wrong?” Maya called back, not taking her eyes from me.

“It’s Jorra,” Bell said, her mouth set.

Maya looked at me once more, then squeezed my arm. “We will finish this conversation, later.”

I nodded, and followed Maya, footsteps sinking into the moss we hurried back to the clearing.

//////

Jorra’s face was flushed, and he vented angrily in my direction as Maya held him back. It was, in many ways, a repeat on a variation of a fight we’d had several times within the loop. It wasn’t as heated as the iterations where both Maya and Bellarex had died, but I couldn’t blame him for his furor.

From his perspective, I’d made him a promise we would go out of our way to show mercy, and then immediately broken it with a level of violence that looked as calculated as it was brutal. Slaughtering an infernal I knew would change into an abomination when wounded had likely been the act that tipped the scales, and that was before he returned to the camp in a rage to begin packing our things and coincidentally discovered the maiming of the noble.

Knowing how little my word was likely worth to him at that point, I held back, letting Maya do most of the talking. She knew how to handle him, and without ever raising her voice, she pointed out over and over, how he didn’t have enough experience to understand how decisions were made in the heat of the moment in real combat. She brought up the visions as well. Eventually, he walked away to cool his head, and Maya looked at me apologetically. “Sorry. He’s—“

“No. I get it. He has every right to be angry.”

“It is not just at you, Cairn.” Maya emphasized. “He is displacing a lot of fear and confusion at your feet. Things are not supposed to be like this in the sanctum. It is never easy, but it is not… this.” Maya extended her arms around us.

“I know.” I gave her a half-hearted smile and crossed the clearing towards the highest concentration of bodies. Bellarex followed me, hand on her sword, scanning the forest.

“You look better,” I said. I bent down to get a better look at the abomination that had been hurling balls of electricity across the battlefield. Somehow, it looked worse in death than it had in life. Crisscrossed lines of angry red left fissures in its skin, and it looked as if it could come back to life at any moment. If I hadn’t watched an infernal make the transformation with my own eyes, I’m not confident that I’d believe it.

“Bruised, but better,” Bell murmured. Her high-energy demeanor was nowhere to be seen.

I hesitated, before voicing the question. “Did I scare you too?”

“No,” Bell said. I let the silence hang, waiting for her to expand on the sentiment. “My father always said there were two kinds of fights. The kind you orchestrate, and the kind you end. You realized it before I did, but it was definitely the second.”

“So, you think we did the right thing?”

“No,” Bell said. Again, I waited. “The two that ran. You let them go.”

“I did.”

Bell chewed her lip. I hadn’t seen this side of her before, even in the loop. “If there was a mistake, I think it was that.”

I glanced up at her, confused. Was this Erdos talking, or Bell? The soldier or the little girl. Still. She had a point. They would likely return to the cowled mage—if he was still alive—and be added to whatever force he was undoubtedly gathering.

“You might be right,” I admitted.

It took nearly an hour before we were prepared to leave. Maya healed a handful of the infernals that were critically injured, ensuring they kept their lives but retained enough injuries that they would not be fit to turn back around and chase us any time soon. They stared at us in a mix of apathy, anger, and shock as they limped away. I saw Bell shake her head out of the corner of my eye.

We headed out into the forest, enemies behind, and the unknown ahead. A feeling prickled at the back of my neck and I murmured to the others, scanning the forest. Someone was out there watching. Whoever they were, I had an inescapable feeling they had seen everything.

AN: Sorry for the gap. Been dealing with some stuff. Planning to get the Patreon 10-12 chapters ahead (Versus 8) so you guys should see some extra content coming sometime in the next week. First Patreon only chap (Sera) is also coming soon. 

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