#i spent a looong time agonizing over how to transcribe it because sanskrit pronunciation is... quite specific

[masterofrecords]

Angstober day 27: System Collapse

I probably spent way too much time making sure my sandhi were accurate in this one. Hooray to the one semester of Sanskrit I'd once taken - never thought it would come in useful.

The Flame of the Countless Deaths

The connection between the leylines is tentative, volatile. Hard as he tries, Kalidasa cannot fully feel the other locations, but it’s better than nothing.

Breathe in, breathe out. His heart beats in sync with the weak, dying magic of the world.

He is about to cease to exist. He is everywhere.

Keeping track of time is hard. There is no time where his mind is, and yet the time is everything now. Sounds of fighting reach him, and he isn’t sure if it is his brothers and sisters fighting at the Mrtyunamjvalah temple below, or if it’s echoes reaching him from across the world, the last cries seeping in through the unstable network.

It hardly matters.

The first seals are barely beginning to settle when the first interruption rocks the leyline.

Kalidasa frowns, breathing steady as he tries to pull closer, figure out where the disruption is coming from. One of the second seals comes with a delay, and with it, Qiao Xiu’s unusually terse voice in Kalidasa’s head, “Got off schedule, but we’re fine.”

And it is fine. The seals should be done simultaneously for them to be stable, but on the cosmic scale, some minutes are a minor issue. The disturbance caused by whatever happened on Qiao Xiu’s end dies down as the rituals continue, and Kalidasa keeps hoping. “Take care,” he replies, and listens to the silence once more.

Time passes through him. More hours, more seals, more fighting seemingly everywhere. The powers that don’t want their divinity sealed off are not going to let it go smoothly – those running the rituals were prepared for it, each group made precautions for it.

Some hid the sites, some set up traps, some placed guards. Below Kalidasa, surrounding the circle where the ritual is taking place, are the monks that do not expect to make it to sundown.

Kalidasa wonders – no, hopes that it will be enough.

After four seals have taken root, things go downhill.

“Hoards of demons,” Zamani’s voice follows the tidal wave of unstable magic. “We’ll try to get back on track.”

He isn’t sure why they report to him. There is nothing he can do, he cannot even send the word out without breaking his connection to the leyline. Perhaps, Kalidasa muses, they just want him not to worry, aware that he’s watching over them.

“Do your best,” is all he can think of replying.

Perhaps there is some comfort they gain from knowing he’s still there, for however much longer it might be.

To his sorrow, the leylines do not have the time to stabilize before the next big interruptions. With each seal, it seems, the price of mistakes becomes greater. “Man down. Will try to finish with eleven.”

The few words of comfort Kalidasa can give don’t seem at all sufficient.

He utters them anyway and watches in dismay as the perturbations grow stronger and stronger, no longer needing their missteps to feed themselves. Something is bound to crack, Kalidasa worries, but the fighting seems to have stopped for the most part.

The air is thick with death, and Kalidasa keeps repeating the same prayers for departed souls over and over again. It is all he can do.

Most have completed eight seals when another shock makes Kalidasa jerk, almost throwing him out of his trance. Something goes wrong, somewhere above and on the inside, and Kalidasa isn’t sure where it is in the real world, but he watches helplessly as the connection to one of the leylines breaks, sending ripples through the entire network.

He hadn’t realized before that there is noise in his ears, but it’s growing more and more uncomfortable to the point where he cannot easily ignore it. It is so loud that he almost misses the voice reaching for him through the void.

He barely recognizes Remi.

“I’m sorry,” is all he hears, and perhaps there was more to the message, but it’s gone, dissolved in static as waves of uncertainty wash over the leylines.

Four more seals to go.

The cut off leyline returns slowly, and he knows it’s Remi’s group giving it one more try, no matter how desperate the situation looks on their side. The rituals continue, exhaustion bleeding to Kalidasa instead of finesse as the hours of work take toll on everyone.

The rituals finish in an unsteady cacophony, a rough patch rather than neat embroidery on the fabric between the planes. Kalidasa feels each backlash and winces, knowing they mean more deaths he will probably never learn about.

His magic feels weaker and weaker as more leylines are cut off, but it’s not fully gone. The seals are still fluid, like unfinished stitches, but Kalidasa holds on to hope.

It’s the only thing he can do.

The people of Mrtyunamjvalah leave, knowing better than to disturb him. His own skin feels frayed, and Kalidasa wonders what is happening outside, but dares not open his eyes.

There is still time. There is still hope.

Whatever the outcome, he will be there to witness it.