B6 Chapter 17: Ysanna Interlude

Cyrus floated through the portal and his soul shot out of her realm. With a wave, the portal collapsed, the massive stream of water holding the spatial mana slipping back into the ever-churning ocean. 

Ysanna stared at that space where the boy had gone before she collapsed. Lightning erupted from the skies, crashing upon the waves in colorful explosions of purple and blue. Coral rose beneath her, rising upward and molding around her body as she slowly slumped on her throne.

She watched the lightning crash as thunder followed the performance like an applause. Each strike would have burned through those mortals if they were still here. 

Around her, the wind howled in a gale, screaming as her body shook. She grunted, not bothering to rein in the destruction. She had pushed too far, too soon. Making changes in the mortal world had drained her, keeping her reserves lower than she should have. Her recent actions were scraping at the bucket with depleted resources. 

A roaring thundercrash conjured a titanic wave that blocked out the muted sun. She raised her chin and extended her hand, but a ringing knock tapped against the barrier of her realm. 

When she looked to her right, a door appeared. It shifted in place and looked like stars given form. 

“You pushed yourself too quickly,” came the deep voice from her right.

“And it’s rude to enter without being invited in,” Ysanna retorted.

Eraztis floated beside her throne, his purple robes dancing on their own. She scowled. The titanic wave had frozen, as did the lightning sparking across the ocean. 

The god scoffed. “If that was true, I wouldn’t have been able to enter.” 

Ysanna shook her head and waved a hand, but again, before she could proceed, Eraztis interrupted. Chains made of starlight that bent reality around them slithered in. It was a single rope, a line made of six links. 

Except that chain stretched to titanic proportions and easily engulfed her realm like a worldly serpent. When it clinked together, the links reshaped and connected, becoming whole. At once, her soul surged with power as the ringing hollowness inside her soul filled.

She gasped and collapsed forward, bracing herself as the influx of power and further stabilized. New storms brewed in the sky, but they were swept aside as the ocean rose and settled.

“Wha-why?” she demanded.

Eraztis cocked his head. “Are you unhappy with my gift? I could take it back.”

“No!” Ysanna blushed at the outburst and sat up straight, finding it immensely easier than mere moments before. “I mean, I am honored by the gift, sir Eraztis. However, I am… Uncertain as to why you have given it.”

“Because you have foolishly allowed yourself to be weakened for such a boy,” Eraztis said. He conjured an image of Teldrin. “Even if you are correct about him helping temper Cyrus’s nature, was he truly worth what you sacrificed? That much power… It has emptied the last of the rift’s remnants. You know more than I what freedom it granted you. Especially with the war that is to come.”

Ysannaa shook her head. “He is one of mine. If he is to be with Cyrus he needs a chance to survive. Besides, it’s not as if he won’t benefit them. It’s not what I hoped for, but I trust in Cyrus to provide him what he needs.”

Eraztis sighed. It was deep and ancient, filled with enough weight she could feel the exhaustion. “Maybe. But if he does die. If that boy is lost and Cyrus blames himself. He will either rise and temper like hardened steel, or he will rage with the fury of a collapsing star. Are you prepared for that?”

She watched him, observed the god as his tentacles snapped at the air. It was nearly impossible to read goods through physical reactions, most had the habit of being hyper aware and shutting down habits before they gave themselves away.

She adjusted her robe and looked out over her realm, watching a new storm be swallowed by another, larger cloud. 

“I don’t know what to expect from him, if I’m being honest. From how you and Calstrax have talked, you put so much weight on Cyrus’s shoulders. It’s as if you expect him to crack a mountain with every step. To churn a sea and boil by simply gazing at it. Do you actually expect him to be that dangerous? Or are you more afraid of Calstrax?”

It was awhile before Eraztis answered but eventually he turned around and folded his hands behind his back.

“I am a watcher above the world. My gaze extends beyond continents and islands. Already, the mana in the world is reshaping, adjusting, shifting like a tide as it ripples in the wake. It may not seem like much, Ysanna. It is indeed small if one looks beyond the Weave freezing the world to stare into Cyrus’s soul. If one does. Except there’s more. Dungeons, new ones, wild ones, have appeared. Rifts are changing and shifting, being drawn from the astral space to influence the land. The Weave has spread seeds of potential in the vague draw that Cyrus might come across them. When he does, it will never be simple. A reborn, no. A Reborn like him leaves changes in his wake. It is his nature and one he’s been pushed to follow more heavy handed than usual.”

She bit her lip. “Even so, could Cyrus be that dangerous? Calstrax, I understand. He’s… We know what he is. I know he feels for the kid, more than most. But not even he would–”

Eraztis laughed, loud and bitter. It came with the faint scream of souls beyond reality, echoing over the waves. 

“Calstrax would swallow the world for what he loves. To take what he views as his, hah!” Eraztis calmed as he stared at her directly. “You said it yourself. He is already more like Calstrax than he knows. Similar, but so much more. What I’ve seen hidden inside the boy’s mind… It frightens me.”

That was disturbing. Eraztis has always been a god above the rest. The caretaker, the soul weaver. He was beyond the petty games of the others, because he was old, and an attendant of the Weave bound by law far stricter. 

“What did you see? Does this involve what happened at the capital?” she asked.

Eraztis’s tentacles stilled and he looked away. “Another insanity. A tier one touched the realm of souls, defied the Weave itself and brought it back while still living to see the morning. Pah! You asked if Cyrus could become that danger? Then let me ask you this. Calstrax is the harbinger, a beast shackled by the Weave and only so. Tell me, what would happen if Cyrus became a second? A devourer without the rules of godhood? You already know of the seed in his soul. Of the divine spark forming the catalyst of pseudo divinity. Do you think you could handle such a creature? One with the wrathful tendencies of a broken, unstable, young man?”

More silence. Only the distant roar of thunder and the slapping of waves crashing upon each other drifted through. 

How did she feel about that? Picturing the boy, a specific scene always came to mind. Of a true soul, an adventurer exploring a rift yet still choosing to save the life of a riftborn over his own. 

When she pictured him, it was with the smile of acceptance as he fell toward the void. The sadness in his eyes yet the absolute calm as he headed toward his death. 

She saw a broken kid. 

Then her mental image shifted, and she watched as he changed slightly in appearance. Covered in blood, his sadness morphed into rage. Like all gods of Solunaria, she was aware of what happened at the capital. She saw through her awareness what transpired that night. 

Of course she was late to the party. Aurelion did a good job keeping her in the dark, otherwise she would have never agreed to his plan. At the very least she would have gotten Cyrus out of there, given him a warning to better prepare.

She watched him in her mind, living through the exact moment Broken Tower was split, and shot into the void. Gone was the sadness and calm acceptance of death, and in it’s place… Wrath.

He was defiant, unhinged and uncaring. What crazy mortal allowed themselves to be blown apart and singed and then have the audacity to try and stitch a demigod with his soul? To wield an anger strong enough to defy the Weave itself and demand its compliance? 

Ysanna adjusted herself, sitting up as she made the sun rise high in her realm. The sunlight banished the storms and brought a beautiful horizon across the sky.

“I will not regret what I’ve given Teldrin and Cyrus. The child needs the boost to survive, and Cyrus needs his soul fixed. I’m surprised you didn’t repair it yourself. It should have been easy for you, especially if he is your scion,”  Ysanna said.

She didn’t accuse him directly but she hinted at the obvious. For Eraztis the literal caretaker of Inoria’s souls. He should have been able to repair the soul damage from Cyrus’s foolishness. So why hadn’t he?

Eraztis scoffed. “I did help him. I’m not crazy enough to do more though. Let him learn his lesson for such lunacy. It will make him think twice before attempting it again. Especially if I am unable to be there to guide him.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I think we both know that if it comes down to it. He will do so again with or without your help. Knowing him, I almost believe he’d managed it.”

“Pah!”

Ysanna chuckled. “You’re not being fully honest, but that’s alright. I won’t pry into secrets that disturb someone like you. I simply ask that you’ll tell me if it involves me. Especially my people.”

“We are allies. Damned ones, but allies. I would not keep secrets of that important from you unless I was bound to do so. For good or ill, I have thrown my lot in with the boy and marked my claim. Let the others come, they’ll learn the true consequence of immortality,” Eraztis hummed.

Ysanna shivered. 

Mental image aside, she thought of the other gods, and the dozens of pantheons in the southern continent. Things have shifted since her death and the territories have moved after a few wars. 

There were some powerhouses there, but picturing them going against Eraztis, well… 

“Are you prepared for whatever fall out that comes from Cyrus’s little trip?” she asked.

“Unfortunately so,” he sighed. He glanced her way and paused. “I suppose now that you’ve truly thrown in your lot with the damned fox, you should know about what is coming next. If you intended to remain an ally, then it might be best to prepare some of your people.”

Her fingers curled around her throne. “Tell me.”

Eraztis looked up and he snapped his claws. The chain, the gift that was already adding to her realm and stabilizing it, showed itself. The power from within the chain formed a barrier that isolated her from the dimension and she had to force herself not to interrupt the transition.

Once it finished, Eraztis lowered his gaze and met her eyes.

“Now that we can speak freely, it’s time you learn what it means for gods when a Reborn is born into their world. Of the opportunity that the system grants.”

“Does this involve Cyrus?”

“In a way. But it is more focused on his old world. Of a planet known as Earth. It’s time you learn of what an origin shard is and what is to come in a few years. When the new planet joins the Weave, the system likes to initiate an event special to newly awakened planets.” Eraztis cocked his head then nodded as if agreeing with something. “I believe Cyrus called it a system apocalypse.”

With another wave of the god’s hands, several illusions appeared of different planets birthing from shells of ether. What played next was what the mortal experienced as they were awakened and set loose.

Eraztis chuckled darkly as he watched with her. “A rather fitting name, no?”