Chapter 79 - The Descent III
From behind a distant hill approached a deer whose height neared that of a ten story building. Its steps looked slow and graceful, but its stride was so long that it took only a moment for it to transform from a distant speck on the horizon to an immediate looming threat. Even at a glance, the branches growing from its head were immediately apparent. It was a blossoming crown, a series of wooden limbs adorned with a thousand glowing flowers. But flamboyant as the wreath was, it failed to hold the halfbreed’s attention.
Claire’s eyes were locked instead on the floral cervid’s piercing gaze. The longer she stared, the more peculiar it seemed. Its glowing irises were in flux, spiralling through a mix of colours as defined as a rainbow swirling in a cauldron, but at the same time, through a means she failed to understand, she could tell that only one of them was correct. It was almost reminiscent of the magical box she saw in her dreams, impossible to perceive, despite being right before her eyes. The headache-inducing spectacle was disturbing, off-putting, warm, and welcoming. All at once. Like she was being pulled into an unwanted, gentle embrace.
The other monsters seemed to think the deer some sort of king or idol. They stared at it, unmoving, captivated by its regal aura like an audience before the work of a genius playwright. Claire felt a sense of foreboding build in her chest. Whatever the cervid was, she knew it wasn’t to be trifled with, at least not without a plan. She had to run, but her legs wouldn’t budge. At most, she could get them to twitch, but never anything more. The force of the monster’s psionic might overpowered her bodily functions and forced her to remain in place. It almost felt like she was on the receiving end of a paralyzing gaze, her own behaviour mimicking that of the creatures she had forcibly dominated. Even Shouldersnake was frozen. The spirit was stock-still, refusing to respond to any of her commands.
She could feel a twinge of discomfort well up inside of her, spawned from a lack of agency. The cold, seeping sensation did nothing but grow as the deer drew closer, rising into a wave of dread as she found herself enveloped by the cervid’s floral scent. All it needed to do was step on her. Her bones would be crushed and her insides would be ground to a paste beneath its weight. She would hardly be any better off if it opted for inaction. She couldn’t breathe in its presence; two hours was all the time that needed to pass for her to die. But it did neither of those things, choosing instead to grow a branch from one of its antlers and offer her a fresh, ripe peach.
The lyrkress knew that it was not to be taken. She couldn’t explain why or how she knew, but something inside of her was rejecting the fruit on a fundamental level, screaming at her to make an immediate escape. But she couldn’t pull away. Her hands were being drawn to the morsel by some sort of external pressure. And it wasn’t force magic.
Thinking of vector manipulation reminded Claire of the newest way she’d learned to use it. With a twitch of the tail, she propelled herself forward, with her body remaining paralyzed until she hit the ground. The pain that accompanied the impact broke whatever spell had kept her bound. Just in time for her to raise her head and find the deer stomping around and wildly flailing its horns, completely enraged. The monsters she presumed to be its underlings were getting kicked through the air or squashed underfoot, but it didn’t seem to be the slightest bit concerned with their safety.
Though the monarch was a cold-hearted tyrant, its subjects remained loyal enough to respond to its rage. Warcries erupted from the field as countless monsters got to their feet and prepared for battle. Knowing the mess that would soon ensue, Claire immediately chose to escape. She propelled herself into the air and boosted away from the area with all the speed she could muster. As sustained flight was still outside the scope of her abilities, she soon came crashing right back down, but repeating the process several times, she eventually managed to flee the giant cervid’s domain. Still, she kept running and jumping at top speed, stopping only after she was absolutely certain that she was no longer being chased.
“Wow, that was close! I almost can’t believe you got out of that in one piece.” A voice came from above. Looking at its source, Claire found Sylvia, who spoke as she leapt off a nearby cloud.
Claire frowned. “Those deer trees are obnoxious.”
“Yeah, they’re kinda like lesser lords. Jumping in and messing with them is really hard unless you know exactly what you’re doing.”
“Tell me that earlier next time.”
“You’re the one that said you were just gonna wander around! I even warned you!”
“Be more specific.”
“Gosh, you’re so demanding! Have you already forgotten that I’ve never actually been here? I barely know any more than you do!”
“I seriously doubt that.”
“Well it’s true,” huffed the fox.
“I’m sure it is.”
Scanning the savannah, the bluescale found herself wandering through a depopulated patch. The area where she first landed housed over ten times as many monsters. The only ones she could see, from where she stood, were distant specks on the horizon, with each group gathered around its own massive deer.
What was that place Zelos mentioned? Crabby Crags? I wonder if there are any deer there…
Sylvia perked up, stood up onto her hind legs, and poked her head above the grass. “Woah… Whoever’s fighting over there is insane.”
“Where?”
“There.”
Following the fox’s outstretched paw led her to yet another deer, off in a completely different direction. Unable to see or hear any of the commotion, Claire moved closer, peeled off her hood, and raised her ears. She picked up on the first bit of sound after a few minutes of walking, but wasn’t able to see anything until the auditory stimulus was crystal clear.
Off in the distance, she saw a pair of centaurs standing in awe as a large red rodent weaved through a crowd of monsters with two massive metal cleavers in tow. The squirrel’s approach to combat bordered on suicidal. Speed was the only thing that differentiated him from a berserker. He was in the middle of the crowd, sliding underneath charging hyena-pigs, jumping over chimeras, and meeting flame-clad hippos head on. One wrong move was all it would take for the veaber to die, but he proceeded with utmost confidence. The mindless lunatic screamed all sorts of nonsense about protagonists and plot armour as he courted death, teasing it at every given opportunity.
As much as it annoyed her, Claire had to admit that he was doing a good job of surviving, but it didn’t look like he would be getting through the crowd anytime soon. He only hit what he could. Most of the monsters that he managed to hurt would at least partially regenerate by the time he was able to inflict another wound. His whole approach appeared as would a circus act, but somehow, he was whittling down the mob, slowly and chaotically working through it like a tiny whirlwind.
“That veaber’s a total psycho!” said Sylvia.
Claire pinched the bridge of her nose. She could already feel a headache approaching. “I’m leaving.”
“Awww, already? I kinda want to stay and watch him. I think he might be the guy my dad was talking about too, the one with the really interesting classes.”
“I know. That’s why I want to leave.”
“Wait, are you seriously not gonna team up with anyone?”
“Not if I can help it.”
“Why not? Wouldn’t having people to fight with make everything a lot easier?”
“If you can trust them.”
“Well… yeah, but it’s not really that hard, is it?”
Claire took a deep breath and tried her best to purge all thoughts of her father from her mind. “I’m not going to trust a stranger with my back.”
“Well, he’s not going to be a stranger if you introduce yourselves.”
The lyrkress rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Shut up and take me to Crabby Crags.”
“I’m just trying to help.” The fox’s ears drooped.
“I know.” Claire pursed her lips, closed her eyes, and took a breath. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Sylvia climbed up the lyrkress’ back, lightly tapping her on the shoulder before poking at her ears with her paws. “So umm… I know you basically just snapped because you wanted me to get off your back, but are you sure you wanna go to Crabby Crags first? Not the citadel?” She pointed at the smallest floating island with her tail. “I know you might not want to go back, but it’s not everyday that you can randomly learn skills and stuff.”
Clenching and unclenching her jaw, the force mage slowly nodded. “You’re right. Let’s go to the citadel.” She balled her hands up into fists and took a deep breath. “Stop looking at me like that. I’ll be fine.”
Sylvia squinted sceptically, but nodded along and led the way nonetheless.
___
The fox made sure to loop around the island and approach it from an angle that would guarantee that they wouldn’t see the catgirl’s plaza. Though she had noted it, the lyrkrian beneficiary remained perfectly silent, and not out of anything as ridiculous or immature as embarrassment and entitlement, but rather because she understood that a mere “thank you,” would hardly serve as any recompense. If she wanted to pay her back, then it would have to be with fish. Maybe I’ll catch some tonight.
Landing in the same tree she had the previous day, Claire grew out her cloak and hid her features beneath her hood before descending from its canopy and stepping out into the streets. It was almost an unnecessary precaution. Though the sun was high in the sky, most of the locals were still passed out in their beds; there was far less noise than there’d been at night. The ancient fortress almost seemed devoid of life.
The only voices she could hear came from the building marked with Flux’s sigil, the one that Beckard had described as his office. Slowly sneaking her way towards it, she perked up her ears and listened in.
“It’s true, Beck! I swear I saw some sort of spirit in the citadel last night!”
“That’s ridiculous. I don’t know what you saw, but I’m sure there’s a better explanation for it.”
“It was right there! Right in front of me! I swear I could’ve touched it!”
There was an audible sigh. “Valt’ur, you had more alcohol than blood in your bloodstream last night. I don’t think you knew who or where you were, let alone what you were seeing.”
The fox walking beside her tapped one of her flippers, waiting for her to turn her head before starting to speak. “What are you listening to?”
“Nothing interesting.”
Tucking her ears back into her cloak and closing the holes she’d made for them, Claire zoned the conversation out and walked up to the door. She raised her hand to knock, but the wooden entrance flung itself open before she could reach it, revealing a large open chamber. The cathedral was two stories high, with rows of benches on either side and a rust-red carpet that ran right down its center.
At the end of the aisle was a suspended platform featuring a knee-high, rectangular altar made of marble. There were already a number of goods arranged atop it, an array of materials placed with an obvious intention. To the platform’s side, in a far off corner, sat a dusty podium meant for sermons and a large wooden door left half ajar. Peeking inside, she found that it was there to act as a sort of physical barrier, one that kept the cat sith’s living quarters separate from the rest of the building.
“Wow, so this is what a temple is like? You can really feel the magic and divinity and stuff.” Sylvia was practically bouncing around the room, moving from pillar to pillar and arch to arch, as if to inspect every nook and cranny.
“I thought you had ritual mages.”
“We do! But we use the leylines instead, so we don’t need temples.”
“That’s hardly any different.”
Shrugging, the lyrkress approached the altar and looked upon the things placed on top of it. There was a lit candle, a wooden carving of an hourglass, and a vial of water that she assumed to be sanctified. All the items she needed to swear an oath to a god—one of the only rituals that did not require an accompanying mage.
Claire heaved a sigh. She finally understood why Flux had only sent the cat to meet her after she had arrived at the citadel. And she had to admit, she got her good. The goddess was a sly one indeed.
“Sylvia.”
“Mhm? What’s up?”
“Can you step out for a second?”
The fox gave her a puzzled look.
“It’ll be quick.”
“Sure, I guess,” said Sylvia with a shrug and a nod. “Are you gonna do some more praying?”
“Something like that,” said Claire, as she shut the stairwell’s door.
“Okay. I’ll be hanging around the yard or something. Just shout when you’re done!” Sylvia darted out the entrance before she even finished talking. The entrance sealed itself behind her. The wooden barrier would hardly stop the fox from hearing her, but it provided a sense of solitude and relief nonetheless. She could feel herself calm as she scanned the environment and confirmed that she was alone.
After double checking to ensure that everything was in order, Claire kneeled in front of the altar and took a deep breath. Once ready, she placed the flame right in front of her, doused herself in holy water, and brought the goddess’ insignia to her chest.
“O goddess of the eternal flow, ruler of water and time, shepherd of the cycle. I entrust to you the authority over my soul, and beseech that you watch over and guide me as my patron deity. I swear to you now an earnest oath such that I might be captured by your gaze.”
An oath to a god was not necessarily unbreakable, but neither was it something to be made lightly. Those that went back on their words could fall out of a god’s favour and find themselves judged a buffoon and cast aside. In particularly egregious cases, the unfaithful would even find themselves smited by the deity to whom they declared their loyalties. Many often struggled to come up with their oaths. But the halfbreed already knew exactly what she wanted to say. Her pledge would be rude, selfish, and completely undeserving of any divine grace. But she had no intention of changing it. Box should understand, right? She’s the one that set all this up in the first place.
With another deep breath, Claire gave voice to her vow. The words came slowly, one by one, with each carefully articulated and spoken with emphasis and intent. “I swear in Flux’s name to live unbound by the influences of higher powers, to forge a path of my own accord, and to break free of those that might burden me with their wills.”
It was a stark contrast from the standard oath she’d made to Builledracht as a child, and in a way, it was even antithetical. The thought of breaking free of higher powers went against the very concept of a patron deity, whose purpose was to guide and judge. Those that swore to gods were meant to live by the relevant divine tenants. But Claire was only half aware of Flux’s, and she had no intention of ever following them unless they were in line with her own beliefs and convictions.
And that was why her heart sank as the sigil in her palm remained exactly where it was. A sign that the goddess had heard her oath and rejected it.
Having half expected the result, Claire heaved a sigh and opened her eyes.
And found herself face to face with the almighty mistress of the eternal flow.
Even though there was not a cloud in sight.
It took a moment for her to finally process that they were meeting in person, that Flux had descended upon the lost library of Llystletein.
Chapter 79 - The Descent III
From behind a distant hill approached a deer whose height neared that of a ten story building. Its steps looked slow and graceful, but its stride was so long that it took only a moment for it to transform from a distant speck on the horizon to an immediate looming threat. Even at a glance, the branches growing from its head were immediately apparent. It was a blossoming crown, a series of wooden limbs adorned with a thousand glowing flowers. But flamboyant as the wreath was, it failed to hold the halfbreed’s attention.
Claire’s eyes were locked instead on the floral cervid’s piercing gaze. The longer she stared, the more peculiar it seemed. Its glowing irises were in flux, spiralling through a mix of colours as defined as a rainbow swirling in a cauldron, but at the same time, through a means she failed to understand, she could tell that only one of them was correct. It was almost reminiscent of the magical box she saw in her dreams, impossible to perceive, despite being right before her eyes. The headache-inducing spectacle was disturbing, off-putting, warm, and welcoming. All at once. Like she was being pulled into an unwanted, gentle embrace.
The other monsters seemed to think the deer some sort of king or idol. They stared at it, unmoving, captivated by its regal aura like an audience before the work of a genius playwright. Claire felt a sense of foreboding build in her chest. Whatever the cervid was, she knew it wasn’t to be trifled with, at least not without a plan. She had to run, but her legs wouldn’t budge. At most, she could get them to twitch, but never anything more. The force of the monster’s psionic might overpowered her bodily functions and forced her to remain in place. It almost felt like she was on the receiving end of a paralyzing gaze, her own behaviour mimicking that of the creatures she had forcibly dominated. Even Shouldersnake was frozen. The spirit was stock-still, refusing to respond to any of her commands.
She could feel a twinge of discomfort well up inside of her, spawned from a lack of agency. The cold, seeping sensation did nothing but grow as the deer drew closer, rising into a wave of dread as she found herself enveloped by the cervid’s floral scent. All it needed to do was step on her. Her bones would be crushed and her insides would be ground to a paste beneath its weight. She would hardly be any better off if it opted for inaction. She couldn’t breathe in its presence; two hours was all the time that needed to pass for her to die. But it did neither of those things, choosing instead to grow a branch from one of its antlers and offer her a fresh, ripe peach.
The lyrkress knew that it was not to be taken. She couldn’t explain why or how she knew, but something inside of her was rejecting the fruit on a fundamental level, screaming at her to make an immediate escape. But she couldn’t pull away. Her hands were being drawn to the morsel by some sort of external pressure. And it wasn’t force magic.
Thinking of vector manipulation reminded Claire of the newest way she’d learned to use it. With a twitch of the tail, she propelled herself forward, with her body remaining paralyzed until she hit the ground. The pain that accompanied the impact broke whatever spell had kept her bound. Just in time for her to raise her head and find the deer stomping around and wildly flailing its horns, completely enraged. The monsters she presumed to be its underlings were getting kicked through the air or squashed underfoot, but it didn’t seem to be the slightest bit concerned with their safety.
Though the monarch was a cold-hearted tyrant, its subjects remained loyal enough to respond to its rage. Warcries erupted from the field as countless monsters got to their feet and prepared for battle. Knowing the mess that would soon ensue, Claire immediately chose to escape. She propelled herself into the air and boosted away from the area with all the speed she could muster. As sustained flight was still outside the scope of her abilities, she soon came crashing right back down, but repeating the process several times, she eventually managed to flee the giant cervid’s domain. Still, she kept running and jumping at top speed, stopping only after she was absolutely certain that she was no longer being chased.
“Wow, that was close! I almost can’t believe you got out of that in one piece.” A voice came from above. Looking at its source, Claire found Sylvia, who spoke as she leapt off a nearby cloud.
Claire frowned. “Those deer trees are obnoxious.”
“Yeah, they’re kinda like lesser lords. Jumping in and messing with them is really hard unless you know exactly what you’re doing.”
“Tell me that earlier next time.”
“You’re the one that said you were just gonna wander around! I even warned you!”
“Be more specific.”
“Gosh, you’re so demanding! Have you already forgotten that I’ve never actually been here? I barely know any more than you do!”
“I seriously doubt that.”
“Well it’s true,” huffed the fox.
“I’m sure it is.”
Scanning the savannah, the bluescale found herself wandering through a depopulated patch. The area where she first landed housed over ten times as many monsters. The only ones she could see, from where she stood, were distant specks on the horizon, with each group gathered around its own massive deer.
What was that place Zelos mentioned? Crabby Crags? I wonder if there are any deer there…
Sylvia perked up, stood up onto her hind legs, and poked her head above the grass. “Woah… Whoever’s fighting over there is insane.”
“Where?”
“There.”
Following the fox’s outstretched paw led her to yet another deer, off in a completely different direction. Unable to see or hear any of the commotion, Claire moved closer, peeled off her hood, and raised her ears. She picked up on the first bit of sound after a few minutes of walking, but wasn’t able to see anything until the auditory stimulus was crystal clear.
Off in the distance, she saw a pair of centaurs standing in awe as a large red rodent weaved through a crowd of monsters with two massive metal cleavers in tow. The squirrel’s approach to combat bordered on suicidal. Speed was the only thing that differentiated him from a berserker. He was in the middle of the crowd, sliding underneath charging hyena-pigs, jumping over chimeras, and meeting flame-clad hippos head on. One wrong move was all it would take for the veaber to die, but he proceeded with utmost confidence. The mindless lunatic screamed all sorts of nonsense about protagonists and plot armour as he courted death, teasing it at every given opportunity.
As much as it annoyed her, Claire had to admit that he was doing a good job of surviving, but it didn’t look like he would be getting through the crowd anytime soon. He only hit what he could. Most of the monsters that he managed to hurt would at least partially regenerate by the time he was able to inflict another wound. His whole approach appeared as would a circus act, but somehow, he was whittling down the mob, slowly and chaotically working through it like a tiny whirlwind.
“That veaber’s a total psycho!” said Sylvia.
Claire pinched the bridge of her nose. She could already feel a headache approaching. “I’m leaving.”
“Awww, already? I kinda want to stay and watch him. I think he might be the guy my dad was talking about too, the one with the really interesting classes.”
“I know. That’s why I want to leave.”
“Wait, are you seriously not gonna team up with anyone?”
“Not if I can help it.”
“Why not? Wouldn’t having people to fight with make everything a lot easier?”
“If you can trust them.”
“Well… yeah, but it’s not really that hard, is it?”
Claire took a deep breath and tried her best to purge all thoughts of her father from her mind. “I’m not going to trust a stranger with my back.”
“Well, he’s not going to be a stranger if you introduce yourselves.”
The lyrkress rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Shut up and take me to Crabby Crags.”
“I’m just trying to help.” The fox’s ears drooped.
“I know.” Claire pursed her lips, closed her eyes, and took a breath. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Sylvia climbed up the lyrkress’ back, lightly tapping her on the shoulder before poking at her ears with her paws. “So umm… I know you basically just snapped because you wanted me to get off your back, but are you sure you wanna go to Crabby Crags first? Not the citadel?” She pointed at the smallest floating island with her tail. “I know you might not want to go back, but it’s not everyday that you can randomly learn skills and stuff.”
Clenching and unclenching her jaw, the force mage slowly nodded. “You’re right. Let’s go to the citadel.” She balled her hands up into fists and took a deep breath. “Stop looking at me like that. I’ll be fine.”
Sylvia squinted sceptically, but nodded along and led the way nonetheless.
___
The fox made sure to loop around the island and approach it from an angle that would guarantee that they wouldn’t see the catgirl’s plaza. Though she had noted it, the lyrkrian beneficiary remained perfectly silent, and not out of anything as ridiculous or immature as embarrassment and entitlement, but rather because she understood that a mere “thank you,” would hardly serve as any recompense. If she wanted to pay her back, then it would have to be with fish. Maybe I’ll catch some tonight.
Landing in the same tree she had the previous day, Claire grew out her cloak and hid her features beneath her hood before descending from its canopy and stepping out into the streets. It was almost an unnecessary precaution. Though the sun was high in the sky, most of the locals were still passed out in their beds; there was far less noise than there’d been at night. The ancient fortress almost seemed devoid of life.
The only voices she could hear came from the building marked with Flux’s sigil, the one that Beckard had described as his office. Slowly sneaking her way towards it, she perked up her ears and listened in.
“It’s true, Beck! I swear I saw some sort of spirit in the citadel last night!”
“That’s ridiculous. I don’t know what you saw, but I’m sure there’s a better explanation for it.”
“It was right there! Right in front of me! I swear I could’ve touched it!”
There was an audible sigh. “Valt’ur, you had more alcohol than blood in your bloodstream last night. I don’t think you knew who or where you were, let alone what you were seeing.”
The fox walking beside her tapped one of her flippers, waiting for her to turn her head before starting to speak. “What are you listening to?”
“Nothing interesting.”
Tucking her ears back into her cloak and closing the holes she’d made for them, Claire zoned the conversation out and walked up to the door. She raised her hand to knock, but the wooden entrance flung itself open before she could reach it, revealing a large open chamber. The cathedral was two stories high, with rows of benches on either side and a rust-red carpet that ran right down its center.
At the end of the aisle was a suspended platform featuring a knee-high, rectangular altar made of marble. There were already a number of goods arranged atop it, an array of materials placed with an obvious intention. To the platform’s side, in a far off corner, sat a dusty podium meant for sermons and a large wooden door left half ajar. Peeking inside, she found that it was there to act as a sort of physical barrier, one that kept the cat sith’s living quarters separate from the rest of the building.
“Wow, so this is what a temple is like? You can really feel the magic and divinity and stuff.” Sylvia was practically bouncing around the room, moving from pillar to pillar and arch to arch, as if to inspect every nook and cranny.
“I thought you had ritual mages.”
“We do! But we use the leylines instead, so we don’t need temples.”
“That’s hardly any different.”
Shrugging, the lyrkress approached the altar and looked upon the things placed on top of it. There was a lit candle, a wooden carving of an hourglass, and a vial of water that she assumed to be sanctified. All the items she needed to swear an oath to a god—one of the only rituals that did not require an accompanying mage.
Claire heaved a sigh. She finally understood why Flux had only sent the cat to meet her after she had arrived at the citadel. And she had to admit, she got her good. The goddess was a sly one indeed.
“Sylvia.”
“Mhm? What’s up?”
“Can you step out for a second?”
The fox gave her a puzzled look.
“It’ll be quick.”
“Sure, I guess,” said Sylvia with a shrug and a nod. “Are you gonna do some more praying?”
“Something like that,” said Claire, as she shut the stairwell’s door.
“Okay. I’ll be hanging around the yard or something. Just shout when you’re done!” Sylvia darted out the entrance before she even finished talking. The entrance sealed itself behind her. The wooden barrier would hardly stop the fox from hearing her, but it provided a sense of solitude and relief nonetheless. She could feel herself calm as she scanned the environment and confirmed that she was alone.
After double checking to ensure that everything was in order, Claire kneeled in front of the altar and took a deep breath. Once ready, she placed the flame right in front of her, doused herself in holy water, and brought the goddess’ insignia to her chest.
“O goddess of the eternal flow, ruler of water and time, shepherd of the cycle. I entrust to you the authority over my soul, and beseech that you watch over and guide me as my patron deity. I swear to you now an earnest oath such that I might be captured by your gaze.”
An oath to a god was not necessarily unbreakable, but neither was it something to be made lightly. Those that went back on their words could fall out of a god’s favour and find themselves judged a buffoon and cast aside. In particularly egregious cases, the unfaithful would even find themselves smited by the deity to whom they declared their loyalties. Many often struggled to come up with their oaths. But the halfbreed already knew exactly what she wanted to say. Her pledge would be rude, selfish, and completely undeserving of any divine grace. But she had no intention of changing it. Box should understand, right? She’s the one that set all this up in the first place.
With another deep breath, Claire gave voice to her vow. The words came slowly, one by one, with each carefully articulated and spoken with emphasis and intent. “I swear in Flux’s name to live unbound by the influences of higher powers, to forge a path of my own accord, and to break free of those that might burden me with their wills.”
It was a stark contrast from the standard oath she’d made to Builledracht as a child, and in a way, it was even antithetical. The thought of breaking free of higher powers went against the very concept of a patron deity, whose purpose was to guide and judge. Those that swore to gods were meant to live by the relevant divine tenants. But Claire was only half aware of Flux’s, and she had no intention of ever following them unless they were in line with her own beliefs and convictions.
And that was why her heart sank as the sigil in her palm remained exactly where it was. A sign that the goddess had heard her oath and rejected it.
Having half expected the result, Claire heaved a sigh and opened her eyes.
And found herself face to face with the almighty mistress of the eternal flow.
Even though there was not a cloud in sight.
It took a moment for her to finally process that they were meeting in person, that Flux had descended upon the lost library of Llystletein.
