#YES my whole entire mind is preoccupied with arcane

[zevons]

SPARE THE SYMPATHY !!

[shardclan]

A draft stirred the Imperator from sleep, and he sat up immediately when he realized he was alone in his bed. Ashlesha was content to nap on his perch, but had a cat-like habit of curling up atop Lavi’s covers in the gray hours before dawn. This morning he stood outside the thrown-open doors, surrounded by the falling snow.

With twitching frills, Lavi swung himself out of bed and cautiously tip-toed toward the threshold. The snow was falling more thickly than he thought, in heavy, obscuring puffs that piled up like feathers on the pink-hued mountainside. It seemed the closer he got to the door, the brighter it was. He had been certain it was dawn from the bed, but at the threshold it looked like it was midday light diffusing through the white clouds.

He hesitated. His tailed swayed and jerked with nerves too freshly awakened to be tempered by what little sense his mind was trying to enforce on the situation. So light was the snow that even his heavy step caused barely a whisper, more like the shuffling of fine sand than the crunch of ice.

Ashlesha threw his hand out, signalling Lavi to come no closer, and Lavi quickly drew back inside the door. “What’s going on?” he whispered.

Ashlesha held his palms, letting snow pile into them even as it stubbornly refused to land in his hair or on his robes. “Temporal storm. The whole mountain is…” He tilted his head, as if to listen to the sky. “I think in the future right now.”

Lavi sighed, and his whole body sagged as he finally relaxed. “Is that all. The way you were acting I thought there was something really wrong.”

“Oh, there is. Or there will be, I guess.”  He gestured down the mountain, and held out his free hand to Lavi. In a storm like this, it was not a matter of flirtation. Ashlesha seemed perfectly grounded, but Lavi could be blown out of sync by a strong gust. “Down there.”

With Lavi unable to fly, his personal lair was on one of the lower cliffs. Short enough for him to survive if he had to make a leap, high enough that no one could just barge in on a whim. It wasn’t hard to make out the strange bodies littered around at the southern shoal, staining the pink sands dark red.

“They’re all dead,” Ashlesha explained. “Wind dragons I think. Them and dozens of longnecks.”

“But who are they?” Lavi’s fist tightened around Ashlesha’s hand. “ Why would they have come here? Why would…”

Lavi squinted and swallowed before he dared to assume, but he recognized the arrows sticking out of the back of a longneck. Their heads and fletchings were smooth and menacing as the fin of an orca rising from the ocean. It was a distinct design hand-made by one of the mercenaries. One who called herself ‘the Sharkmaiden’. Given how many of the bodies had clearly been shot in the back and fallen forward toward the mountain, her claim that they were made to be fired from under shoreline waves was deadly serious.

“Why did we kill them?” he finally rasped.

“Why 'will’ we kill them,” Ashlesha corrected impassively. “It hasn’t happened yet. It’s just the storm.”

Lavi tugged at his beard. There were records of a previous ruler who used temporal storms as a sort of future sight to be ahead of trends in the local economy. It didn’t always work, these futures weren’t set in stone, but sometimes if she got a hold of just the right triggering event she could ride atop the waves of causality.

“You said you can find any magic you’ve encountered. If you gather up some samples from down there, will you be able to find them?”

Ashlesha rolled his jaw thoughtfully side to side, and answered slowly. “Yes… But it might have to wait until the storm passes for me to find the uh…living sources.”

“That’s fine. Go, before it lets up.”

No sooner had Ashlesha dropped down into the snow than he had already turned back. His expression was dour, and he folded his arms tightly into his robes. He took one look at Lavi’s confused expression, and sighed irritably. “No need for a sample. I can feel an astral’s energy all over them. I don’t know what made them come here, but whoever they are, they’ve been exposed to Katasomata’s influence.”

Lavi’s jaw clenched. “Give me your hand. We need to speak with Khatan and get word out to the Smoke Gyre.”

The blind tundra and his mate were not happy to see the imperator. In a storm like this, it was best to sleep and pray that you would return to the time you came from when it was over.

Khatan’s nose wrinkled as he listened to Invigilavi’s telling. His eyes had been destroyed by some accident in his youth, but in exchange he saw the courses of time as they came and went with the storms. “A wrong decision brought that event to pass.”

“One that I made,” Lavi guessed tightly.

“Indeed. I take it you wish to avert their deaths, or you would not have barged in so urgently in this weather.” He lazed back among the pelts and deep furs that lined the den, and stroked thoughtfully at his mane. His eyes rolled rapidly behind his blindfold. “You are well suited to preventing this future. All you need to do is choose the right company.”

Lavi waited, but Khatan said no more. He looked seekingly to the other tundra, Aishling, but he shook his head and busily stoked a small flame under a pot full of dark and aromatic brew.

“Do not ask for more,” he said distractedly. “Khatan is not a seer, and it costs him to look into the storms and see the great web of things that might be. Be on your way, please.”

Outside, Ashlesha took Lavi’s hand even as the guardian stood in a trance of thought. “You’re not thinking of going to see those loonies are you?”

“I am.” The look he gave Ashlesha could have sent an entire nursery of mirror pups scurrying to bed. “And you are not coming.”

“Lavi–!”

“Not up for discussion. The goal is to get the astrals back to the right plane, not to go to war.”

“Please,” Ashlesha scoffed, the stars inside his robe flaring with dangerous light. “There wouldn’t be a war if you called on me.”

“And that’s why you will stay here. We will get this sorted using reason, not murder.”

Hours later, under a clear sky, Invigilavi paced in front of the Starwood Portal while a ridgeback lounged on the shore, well away from the high concentration of Arcane magic. He was eager for help to come, but his mind was preoccupied with what needed to happen after it did.

With whether or not the right decision was being made.  

Ashlesha more or less knew where the astral was, and the Smoke Gyre knew the area well enough to know where to begin an information gathering run for a large group of longnecks living peacefully with dragons. Finding them wasn’t the problem. It was how to approach them.

They were clearly hostile, or would become hostile if Lavi wasn’t careful. He had already talked himself out of involving any of the Focal Point longnecks. They had been among the clan’s first beastclan allies and had stayed so since the days of Clan Shard. They might very well have been valuable allies on this mission, but the last thing he wanted was to bring them into conflict and potentially get one of them killed.

The goal was to get the astrals back to their rightful plane. Not to kill others, or even be at odds with them. He was willing to go see this clan personally if it would solve things peacefully(as much as Ashlesha didn’t approve and outright hated that he had been forced to stay behind even if it was precisely because of the combination of his excessive protectiveness of Lavi and his nonchalance about the lives of other people, which could not have been a worse choice given the circumstances).

Of course, Lavi had not spent all of his youth paranoid just to grow up into the kind of drake that took stupid risks. Someone had to come with him. But knowing that and knowing who should be at his side were two entirely different matters. So he had sent word to the one person he trusted to know.

The portal hummed, and the end of a long, sturdy cane poked through. Lavi was quick to offer his arm to the slender yet imposing figured that followed.

“I didn’t think you’d come personally,” he remarked with amazement.

Azricai breathed deep of the Arcane air. The last time she had been in the Isles, it was to watch two of the most important people in her life pass beyond the Obervatory gates into exaltation. But the Isles were still where she grew up, and the old, nostalgic scent of magic and sea salt left her eyes and heart clear.

“I became the Lady Judge after many eons as Head Mediator,” she reminded, allowing herself to lean on Lavi’s outstretched hand. “And this situation sounds like it requires very attentive mediation.”

Lavi crouched subconsciously; though he wasn’t a child anymore it disturbed him to look down at her. “I appreciate having a skydancer, especially you, come with me, but are you sure? I’m not much of a fighter and your leg…”

“Are you worried for me because of this old wound or because I raised you?” Her antenna lifted and filled with his warmth and genuine concern even as his fins twisted in embarrassment. But as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t soften to him. “You are my heart’s blood, Invigilavi. But we are servants right now, of our queen and clan, and of the single purpose of restoring the Circle.”

It would have been a lie to say her words didn’t hurt. But that focus on giving all that she was to her clan was very much how he remembered her. He easily lifted her onto his shoulder to make for the ridgeback. “Maleficent will fly us to the trading post close to our destination, since I can’t. We’ll meet the Gyre there and hear his report. Based on what he says…we can decide the best approach.”

Azircai’s antennae swayed. She looked down at Lavi with gentle, apologetic eyes, but she bit her tongue against any indiscretion. There would be time later for him to be her son.

The wind off the Windchime Flats was bitter. The change in the vortex had brought ash from the fire territories into the usually crisp and clean air. In true wind dragon fashion, the merchants didn’t look much bothered by it. If anything, they seemed quite merry under their umbrellas.

“Don’t interact with the merchants too much,” Lavi warned Maleficent in hushed tones. “One of the wind astrals is also supposed to be in this area and they like to mimic the local culture.”

The shadowborn ridgeback squinted her sole eye suspiciously over the bazaar and nodded. “I think I’ll make my way a bit further east into Ashfall proper if you don’t mind.”

“Please,” said Azricai. “The Gyre will find you when and if we need you.”

They made their way to the local crossroads, where the Gyre awaited them. In the open and curious lands of the Windsinger, the wildclaw had abandoned all pretense of invisibility or camoglage and gone for blending in with the crowd. He could have been anyone at all as he chewed on a skewer of some local cuisine and lounged with his nose in a book.

“Longneck Reach,” he said over a mouthful, as if he was reading aloud. “Up on the Zephyr Steppes. Stunning view, peaceful beastclans, fascinating cave system. Ragtag bunch of everybodies all thrown together into one very protective lair living side by side with the local Longnecks.” He smiled up at Azricai. “Not unlike a certain clan of Arcanites back in the day.”

“Common experience makes good mediation,” Azricai mused hopefully. “Were you able to make contact?”

“More or less. I put up some new posters about the astrals. There was a mirror. Female. Face like I’d taken a crap on her favorite bamboo stalk.”  He took another bite from his skewer and lazily flipped a page. “When I remarked on the wind astral in the area, it got quite a rise out of her hackles, yet she muttered something quite dismissive. Disproportionately dismissive, you might say. I thought it better to not push the subject.”

Azricai and Lavi shared a look.

“We’re going to meet with them. Peacefully.”

The Smoke Gyre looked up at them both, and with a shake of his head went back to his book. “As you ask. For the clan’s sake, come back safe.”

[shardclan]

Telos absently rubbed at her husband’s ring. Fletch had repaired it during the height of Flameforger’s, and it sat on Telos’ finger as though it had been made for her from the start. The band was smooth, the setting shiny, and the spinel had been gently cleaned and polished so that it caught the morning light.

Across from her, Moyọ̀ was slumped to the side in his seat. “You look tired.“

He sighed, and touched a hand fretfully to his temples. "Your Tribune is brilliant but his excitement is like a whirlwind untameable. It is almost too much to bear. I would never be seen like this if his insistence did not bring me before you.”

“It’s fine.” She smiled apologetically. “I know how he gets. There’s a childlike earnestness to him that makes him hard to reproach, and it’s very easy to get exhausted by him.”

“You speak of it more charmingly than I would.” He shifted in the deep, comfortable seats of the Hall of Five Lights. “How is it he organizes this meeting yet he is not even timely?”

“He’s in high demand right now. Something strange has happened to one of our young adults. He claims contact with the fabled lunar deity.”

Moyọ̀ harrumphed, and massaged a dab of silky-looking oil with a mild citrus scent under his eyes. “That sounds of eclipse-madness to my ear.”

Telos would have loved to dismiss it so easily, but the runes that had appeared on Lamium’s body told their own tale. They refused to be deciphered, while Lamium himself had developed several unusual behaviors. Moonstones had seemingly materialized around him, despite them being even scarcer than celestine and being similarly endemic to the Starfall isles. He was the Night Ranger so of course he was up at night, but he seemed near-incapable of being awake during the day. He prayed in whispered syllables of unrecognizable power that were cold yet strangely comforting.

Then there was the matter of Shekhinah, who had wandered home with Lamium from Hewn City and who claimed to be one of the near-mythological Ruinkeepers. He was preoccupied with the airspace near House Betelgeuse, where Lutia had done her magic with the Seat. While knowing nothing of the event, he knew something interesting happened there.

He claimed something interesting might happen there again.

“I hope nothing is amiss,” she murmured. “A bit of tardiness is normal, but it’s unlike him to keep me waiting so long.”

“He’s coming,” Arcanus reassured them. “According to the proximity spell, he stopped in Noon Point for some reason. He is approaching now.”

Sure enough, Ashes arrived only a few moments later. The reason for his tardiness was evident in his company; he’d managed to wrangle Hart, Lutia, Saber, Willowalk, and Alchemilla. While they were not as visibly weary as Moyọ̀, there was some cross-gazing and hesitant stepping to their approach.

“I apologize for my lateness,” Ashes announced with eyes bright as ever. “But I believe I’ve brought together a team that can accomplish what we didn’t think would be possible!”

“A very confused team,” Telos remarked. “Come, everyone sit. Ashes, start from the top and explain what all of this is about.”

“Of course, of course!” He tossed a bundle of scrolls into the center of the U-shaped table, hastily looking through them as he spoke. “I’ve been speaking with Moyọ̀ at length about orogenesis. It’s a fascinating magic–but as you know it’s really his magic circles that highlight his brilliance. So mathematical, so carefully plotted!”

“I am content to be complimented all day,” Moyo chuckled, folding his hands into his lap. “But your curious mind has parted me from my sleep as a pearl is parted from the clam. Perhaps keep to your main thesis?”

Ashes deflated a bit, but the joyous abandon of his work came back to his eyes as he spoke. “We can construct House Perihelion before Starfall.”

His words were greeted with stunned silence, which Saber was the first to part. “No, no, Ashes, this is about money–Moyọ̀ needs to be paid at least the sum that he was afforded for House Betelgeuse!”

“That may not be so,” Telos countered. “In watching the move-in, I realized rather quickly that House Betelgeuse is wastefully large. We do not need a second structure on that scale.”

“That’s on us, Moyọ̀,” Ashes added. “Not to lessen you work at all, but we should have thought more about that staggering scale. It’s built for the Seat yes, but it’s also built for what we used to be when we lived on the Focal Point, and it was built for our whole clan instead of just half.”

He found the scroll he was looking for, and activated it with a little spark at his fingertips. Before them, the theoretical shape of House Perihelion took shape–a mirage of what might be in lines of arcane light.

“This is Moyọ̀’s proposed design. It suffers from the same problem–it’s designed to fit out entire clan comfortably as dragons. With House Betelgeuse populated, we know we only need half this–probably less if we build it to shifted forms. Would that not therefore cut the costs?”

In the thoughful silence that followed, Moyọ̀ leaned forward. “This is my design in it’s exactness. How did you do this?”

“The same way you do, by translating your blueprints into magic circles.” He smoothed modestly at his hair. “Though my magic isn’t so grand it could make a real structure.”

“To demean oneself after an impressive act is ugly, boy. You have grasped my mechanism well enough to reproduce it to smaller purposes. Pride yourself.”

Ashes’ cheeks went red as maiden’s blush and he gave a clumsy smile. “Yes… A-anyway, I brought the others because I think they can give their input to re-design House Perihelion to a more realistic scale. The price will shrink with the size, right?”

“Yes, but Perihelion’s design thesis is fundamentally different from Betelgeuse’s,” said Hart. “It’s meant to be flat and open and have a lot of archways and skylights. Glass and wood are heavily involved. If I understand orogenesis correctly, it can only with rock.”

“That is correct,” said Moyọ̀. “And in scaling back, the design between wood, glass, and stone will need to be married much more closely. I may not be able to build you more than a frame. And the complexity is different from a mountain. I hate to reveal myself, but Perihelion is definitive a structure of Light, married perhaps with shades of Wind. That is outside my expertise–and thus the magic will be harder to execute.”

“What does that mean on a practical level? You need an extra source of earth magic? Something that can bind opposing elements together in toward a single cause?”

“Mmm, both things I should think. But such a thing that could channel the magics into the shape it must take without intimate knowledge of my design…does that exist?”

Ashes eyes grew only brighter and he looked to Lutia. “I think it does. Just work on getting a new blueprint ready.”