The Legend of Randidly Ghosthound

To Lowanna, the way she hid her true feelings within her small comments almost became a farce. “Nether King Hightower, to think you would also enjoy the scenic vistas around Wyndaos. What a pleasant surprise,”

Around them, the Hollow Plains seemed to shiver, raising itself to be at attention for what followed.

She paused in her gesticulations, turning and laying her chin upon the hand of her left arm. Her tone possessed none of her usual humor. The wind whispered around the group, almost afraid to draw attention to itself. Next to him, Nether King Hightower straightened. Enmya had led the Nether King out through the rings to one of Lowanna’s usual haunts. He didn’t know what was worse; that she waited in all her ornate finery or that she sat in front of the spheric absence in the ground that she had told him she stored her regret in, a few days prior.

Enmya averted his eyes as he moved to his Arbiter’s side. She did not attempt to make light of the burden she bore this time. She seemed immovable as she sat in front of them, as solid and heavy as a mountain range. Her words possessed enough depth to ring in their chests, even as a whisper. When she spoke, the entire world listened.

Nether King Hightower had sculpted his form to be a heavy golem of pale sandstone. His carved features moved slowly as he bowed in respect. His manner was why Enmya had chosen him. “Please forgive the intrusion. But I must beg that the Arbiter intercede in the travesty developing. The Aether rabble gathers their forces, committing atrocities against our people and then complaining when we seek well-deserved justice. At this rate, they will begin raiding Nether Kings along the border.”

“Do you,” Again, the voice hammered against their bodies. The impossible weight of so many Phaea made her powerful beyond imagination. Even Enmya had difficulty resisting the urge to tremble. “Have a conflict for me to judge?”

Despite the power in her tone, Hightower was not cowed. His brow slowly crinkled while his spine remained straight. Nether Kings stood apart from the usual Tier Hierarchy of the other Nether roles, unique due to their acceptance of Phaea from other Nether entities. However, Nether King Hightower had been a rare Tier Six Nether Warrior previously, meaning his Nether had been incredibly pure before his ascension. “... the conflict has not erupted, but if we wait, the costs will increase. In addition, to fuel the war effort, additional Black Wicker Seeds will let us strangle the life out of the Aether-”

“I will offer you free advice,” The Arbiter smiled, slowly, cruelly. The wind above Wyndaos picked up, urged from whispering to howling by her emotions. The few unlucky kites in the sky were snatched up and crunched against the ground by a wind with only the concern of spiraling around their position. “The coming war will not be without immense costs. The longer we wait, the more those costs will decrease. So. We. Wait.”

For a split second, the wind died completely. Without the movements of air, the presence of Nether around Lowanna’s body became increasingly obvious. Enmya’s face distorted; he hated seeing Lowanna like this. But without the sound of the wind to trick the ear, a low hum emerged. The hum came from Lowanna’s limbs, her eyes blazing as she endured the grind, the fabric of existence in a constant state of tearing underneath the pressure of her presence and healing itself. Strange, vicious energies associated with tears in existence crackled along her body, even as she remained entirely still.

Before the full force of the Nether Arbiter, Nether King Hightower could only bow and retreat with his people. The wind scoured the ground after he departed, all remnants of his presence on the Hollow Plains scraped away.

When they were out of sight, all the sense of weight vanished. Lowanna stood, somehow keeping her bells silent through the movement, and drew several currents of Nether out of her body and sent them into the hole. Lowanna seemed light and free, but Enmya understood that, in fact, this sort of careless effect took more effort than all of the furious power she had revealed to cow the Nether King.

“...simply providing additional Black Wicker Seeds to them will reassure the Nether Kings,” Enmya finally broached the topic he had been dancing around for the last week.

Yet his blood chilled in his veins as, instead of making a joke or dismissing him, Lowanna became heavy again. She pivoted, the whole of her visible, grinding against existence in the movement and forcing a keening wail out of the universe. “You should know better than that, oh heralded Nether Herald. Each Nether King shall receive only one Black Wicker Seed, to do with what they will. In the old days, they were saved in case of emergencies. Used in a sudden burst of power to counter a bad situation. But now…”

Lowanna’s eyes narrowed. Compared to her anger, the world was a fragile thing indeed. “Now they become nails, hammered into Aether Lands to claim them for Nether. All because it makes us slightly more powerful, and then less so. No more such Seeds will be planted, not while I remain alive.”

Enmya sighed inwardly. He hadn’t expected such a harsh rejection. He had understood the unique way Black Wicker Seeds had been created, Lowanna spent weeks, due to her bound hands, creating a kite-sized black-wicker ball filled with strange patterns only she could imagine. In her organic pattern generation, Lowanna was unrivaled. No one could capture the spirit of potential as well as she could. Bearing the weight of all of the Nether’s Phaea, wedged into the world almost to the point of breaking out of it, she could see truths of existence that the rest couldn’t grasp at.

Lowanna blinked, the air losing its heavy quality. Her bells jingled almost merrily as she tilted her head to the side and grinned at him. “Ah, that might not even be true. There is a single seed, I’d be willing to make; for the unaffiliated Nether King that bothers you so. How does that make you feel, Enmya?”

“As always, I trust in your wisdom,” Enmya replied without any irony.

All at once, the cheer slid of Lowanna’s face. She turned back to the hole in the ground and gave more of herself into the void. The flow of Nether felt heavy, to his senses, passing out of her body. Even before Enmya could grow frustrated with her selflessness, she spoke again. This time, her words were dead. “I lied to them, Enmya. I truly… I don’t know what to do. The reason that waiting longer to enter the war is better for us… is simply because this is a war we will lose.”

Enmya’s first thought was that the Nether Arbiter was joking. Doing her usual performance of creating humor with an exaggerated comment. Several seconds of staring at her slack face made it clear she was not. He forced out a breath. “That seems impossible. Malloon may have withstood the attack, but that is a single city, with a pinch of the greater Nether collective’s capabilities. They even had that fool of a Nether King assisting them; they would not have won otherwise. A concerted attack with our forces-”

“We were tricked, all those years ago. The more I think about it, look at the patterns, the more I realize it was done purposefully. Perhaps even the whole of the Spirit of Unity Day was contrived, for us to burn all bridges but Phaea.” Lowanna’s gaze grew unfocused. She raised her head and peered into the sky, as though answers would simply be hiding in the vast expanse. “Our hands bound, eggs in a single basket. But even then, we were strong. So we had wars of expansion, over and over, victory after victory against the more disorganized Aether. Until, given a blessed seed that could accomplish almost anything, our Nether Kings choose to take and suppress. Those sorts of actions leave scars. Our story becomes tainted with bitterness. When an attack comes now, our foundations have shallowed and will not be able to withstand it.”

“We have you,” Enmya said.

Wind tugged at her hair as Lowanna chuckled. “And every movement I take with any real power will end the lives of thousands of Nether Beings.”

“Is that not why we have interred so many in the Great Prison?” Enmya leaned forward, his expression intent. “Criminals exist in our society, despite our best efforts. Considering their sins, it is only proper that their lives-”

“Yes, yes, you are very clever, plotting over the centuries to give me more palatable methods to move directly,” Lowanna looked at Enmya, a fragile smile on her face. He stilled, realizing that she had seen through him for perhaps their whole partnership. There was no judgment there, just a fondness.

All his maneuvering overturned as an adult might do to a child.

However, she still shook her heavy head. “You miss the point, however. The same point the other Nether Kings and Nether Heralds have been forgetting for generations. Methods matter just as much as outcomes, with Nether. You cannot erase the sins of the past; for us, they become us, just as surely as our victories. We might delay the arrival of our downfall, but only in short gasps. And those actions will make our eventual breaking so much the worse. No matter how much I think, I see no patterns that allow us to escape.”

With the Hollow Plains around them, it was difficult to overcome the finality of her words. Yet he tried.

“You…” Enmya licked his lips. “...are not infallible.”

“Ha! And that, Enmya, is both definitely true and exactly why you’ve always been my Nether Herald.” She beamed at him, visibly pleased. “Few others would have both your loyalty and the spine to point out not to get too wrapped up in my own predictions. Yes, yes, perhaps I’m entirely wrong and a hero will emerge to shatter the horrible restrictive caste system and the short-sighted mentality of our people.”

Enmya grimaced. “You cannot call me a Nether Herald any longer. You know that. If they would hear you-”

Then Enmya cursed, suddenly seeing that Lowanna had been the one to arrange this entire conversation, guiding them to this point. “...you believe this independent, deviant Nether King is the key, then. A variable, one small enough to escape your predictions, that will have an effect on the future. A chaotic gamble, at best.”

Some of Lowanna’s cheer faded. “There are no small variables, only squinted eyes before large patterns. But, well, I admit you have a point. I do not have much hope this one will come to anything productive. Especially considering his moniker, which seems to embody the worst of the gluttony displayed by the King of Bone. Have you heard what they call him?”

Of course Enmya had; he had been monitoring the situation since he first learned of it. “Nether King Hungry Eye.”

“How positively monstrous,” Lowanna clicked her tongue. “Yet what choice do we have? Within the week, gather up a team of our greatest warriors in Wyndaos. You will lead them, Enmya. All our strongest. A failure once is unexpected, but a second failure will not be tolerated. Go to the area around Malloon and make contact with Nether King Hungry Eye.”

Enmya felt bewildered for a second, being ordered to do exactly what he wanted to do. His gaze sharpened, the gears of his mind turning, trying to figure out the possibilities. “And Westrisser and his horrid experiments.

Lowanna’s gaze turned heavy. “My judgment remains the same. For the crime of ripping out the hearts of Nether Kings… he needs to be eliminated.”

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