Icarus Awakens

Khiat stirred only slightly to Gadriel’s words. That was already an improvement, albeit a chip from the mountain of turmoil the Hero would have to work through. He had no solid plan. Mantle of Inspiration might come to his aid, though aura powers had their weaknesses. The relevant one here was that the power was as strong as the target was receptive. Khiat seemed in no mood to be saved, and neither was his other influence power appropriate. All he could do was speak from the heart.

“I have heard of your troubles, and the proposed means by which they would be resolved,” Gadriel spoke from the middle of the room, not changing his formal speech even for these circumstances. Those not from Threst often mistook it for an attempt to play up his class, but it was just a habit he could not break. A thing of times he would not forget. “Though I admit I am one ill-suited to this task, I would offer my aid.”

Khiat didn’t move. In fact, her efforts to remain still were redoubled because he was here. Other than her parents, he was the one she wanted to see the least. The one she wanted to disappoint the least. The pain of hunger was gone, all of the pain was gone when she was alone. The knowledge that there was something that could take memories away didn’t comfort her. There was no guarantee they wouldn’t come back. She was cursed, and ready to die. But why did he have to be here to see how she had failed?

“I am not wise enough to know the plans of the Octyrrum,” Gadriel continued when it was clear Khiat would not speak. “Nor I the will to question it. Your class, it concerns me. Mortals should not raise weapons against each other, it is the Crest that remains our ultimate enemy. But, are there not times where evil takes root among us, and a call for its destruction is raised?” Gadriel gazed into the distance for a moment. “I have had that necessity placed upon me before. Though I have not killed any mortal, I have fought them. I am to understand that you have the best of me there, class or not. They say it is your class that is poison to you. But those are the words of someone who has not spent a full day here. Blessed by the Octyrrum above most, perhaps, but the greatest of us can still err.” Above Gadriel, on the surface, someone grunted dismissively. “You, of all others, can reveal to us how we can best aid you. Yet you keep your silence. You starve yourself. For what reason do you endure this punishment? A sin? You are blameless. Your class? It was granted not by your request. Why do you do this?” Both faced each other silently until Gadriel sighed, and turned.

Both duskers were exhausted, and would not sleep until Khiat’s condition was remedied one way or the other. Still, Achia had the energy to ask. “Is there nothing you can do?”

“I’ve faced one like this before. Caught in despair. There was little I could do for him, and time acted in my stead. I fear, as you well know, that time is not with us today.” He placed both of his elbows on the table that was slightly too high for him, and asked, “What is the limit of your tolerance when it comes to measures that may save her?”

“What are you suggesting?” Xtalo’s voice was guarded and wary. After being repeatedly told there was only one way to cure his daughter, he’d begun to believe anything else would just cause her more harm.

“If we can spur her to eat, or at least to speak at length with us, we may delay the sands of time from snuffing out hope of another cure. I have an ability that may do this, an Inquisition-type if you are familiar with such terms. There is no physical harm to it, but it may stress your daughter further. I am no Cleric, nor am I skilled in the ways of healing. Under normal circumstances, the worst it may do is render one unconscious. With her, I am unsure.”

“The child would not die,” Calius spoke from the entrance, his approach completely unnoticed. “Nor would it do any good. Her curse is not something words alone will cure, as I have said. Buying time only prolongs her suffering. I do not enjoy the prospect of what I must do, and yet if she is to be saved it must be done.”

“What of class evolution?” Gadriel asked, making the Cleric raise an eyebrow. “I have seen it. To one knowledgeable of the greater mysteries, surely you know how it may be provoked?”

“You wish to make this child a Tyrant?” Calius asked, eyebrow raised.

“What good would that do!?” Achia protested. “She suffers enough as it is!”

“Not a Tyrant, no. There must be other paths. Craftsmen have myriad.”

Calius glanced to the door through which Khiat rested, then back to the Hero. “What is the point of these questions? Do you wish to intimidate her or change her class?”

“I would spare her my ability if there was a chance of the latter. Is there?”

“No,” Calius said firmly. Truthfully.

“Then do not gainsay me before the attempt is made. If she could but speak-”

“It will make no difference, but neither will I stop you. Ultimately it is up to the child and, in her incapacity, her parents.” Calius glanced meaningfully at the two duskers, trapped between the Hero and the Cleric.

Achia spoke for them both. “I would spare my daughter any pain. At any cost. But if these days are to be cast away if all else fails?” the deep voice trembled.

“Go.” Xtalo nodded to Gadriel, then looked at the Cleric. “If this does not work, we are ready for your mercy. We will not allow her to suffer any longer.”

The Hero tensed as that weight was put on him. The last barrier between a young woman and the loss of her class. He had no reason to believe he’d be successful, only the consequences to think of if he failed. For just a moment Gadriel regretted becoming involved until he realized the sting of inaction would have bitten him far worse.

Under Calius’ disapproving oversight, Gadriel strode back to Khiat who had not moved an inch despite being within earshot of the conversation. Of nearly every word that had been said in this dwelling, except when Calius had shielded the room. No Cleric would protect her from these next words, however. Keeping his gaze steadily on her, Gadriel spoke and his voice reverberated as he did. “Khiat of the duskers, confess your sins.”

The power gripped Khiat fiercely. She hadn’t advanced anything to level 1 beyond dexterity, leaving her critically enfeebled in her other attributes. This happened to everyone after they leveled. Typically there was the foresight to leave time and advancement to round out other attributes before renewing normal activities. But the temptation, spurred on by her village, had been too great for Khiat.

That didn’t necessarily mean the ability would force Khiat to speak. Force Confession only worked on those with something to confess. Otherwise, the raw intimidation could trigger the fear effect in someone blameless. Gadriel had seen this firsthand and expected much the same. He had no idea where Khiat was mentally, the hope was that any jolt to her emotions would trigger something. It was the height of foolishness, but that’s where they were.

And Khiat had something to confess. The dusker shifted, compelled by the magic. She fought it fiercely, fought it harder than anyone ever had, but it was too strong. All the same, it could only make her speak, and she did not move as she did so. “I, I,” she began, still fighting the effect. Xtalo and Achia rushed into the room behind Gadriel, while Calius looked on in the background disapprovingly. “I can’t live with this!”

The throats of duskers did not go dry or hoarse with disuse. A quirk of their biology. So it was that when Khiat spoke it was at her full volume. Force Confession prompted nothing less, so loud was she that it woke duskers in adjacent dwellings and alerted most everyone above ground. “I see how to kill people. How to kill anyone, whenever I look at them. I can’t make it stop. I tried! It’s evil. It’s me.”

“We can take this from you!” Xtalo protested, horrified. “The man of the Cloak, the Cleric can remove this from your mind. You can live in peace.”

“No!” Khiat denied. Force Confession was fading, but now that she was speaking, now that it was too late not to address this, she continued. “No. It will come back. It is me. You need to kill me.”

“No,” Achia sobbed. “That is not an answer.”

“I tried to warn you, Hero,” Calius chastised. Gadriel looked to the duskers, but they appeared not to hear the Cleric’s words. Something was hiding them from them. “Now look what you’ve done. Do you think any of them are better off? I should take this moment from their minds as well. It would be a kindness.”

“Hold.” Gadrield held an arm out to block both Calius’ machinations and the parents from reaching their child. “The determination to starve oneself to deny darkness is not to be mocked. That will should not be ignored.”

“I will not let my child die,” Xtalo growled, angry at the blocking arm.

“Hold!” Gadriel’s mouth was a thin line. He stared at Khiat with the same intensity he’d used against Heldren, in as dire a battle as that one though with circumstance his current foe. “If you have that seed of greatness, why do you fear the future? Is it cowardice, do you not think yourself fit for the struggle? I will make you answer if you do not.”

“It’s pointless,” Calius’ voice reached his ears only, chiding now. “The girl is at odds with herself in a way neither you nor I can correct. Only conceal.” The words were filled with doubt, attempting to poison his resolve. Calius was far stronger in level than Gadriel. His attempts to sway the Hero might have worked. On someone else.

“Speak!”

“I can’t win against this,” Khiat pleaded, now struck with bargaining for her own death. Weak with hunger though she was, her voice was strong and utterly convinced.

“She’s right.” Calius’ voice was in his ear, trying to tunnel its way further, but the only thing he was doing was speaking.

“Silence!” Gadriel whispered, then turned back to Khiat. “You speak of defeat as if it is certain, and in doing so secure it. Why can you not call upon that same surety to your self-confidence!? Not one life of the Octyrrum’s is forfeit, and yet you would cast yours easily aside?”

“Your neck,” Khiat said hollowly as if something else was speaking through her. “You don’t have armor there. I’d try and stab you. Or break it, when your guard is down. It wouldn’t work, probably, but it could. I can’t stop thinking about it whenever I look at you.”

Almost reflexively, Gadriel brought his free hand up to his neck before he disciplined himself. “If it is strength of will you need to resist this impulse, then I say again that it is this you have! And if it is a ward you need, to defend against a time you fail, I could be that.”

Calius raised an eyebrow but didn’t speak to the Hero again about the foolishness of what he was doing. Sure, if he took her under his wing that could help in the short term. But it was too late. The girl’s path had already been set. She knew it too. “If I keep living, I’ll just hurt people,” Khiat replied. “And if you stay with me then I’ll drag you down with me.”

“No!” Gadriel denied her, or if not her, then the world. “Do not set fate before fate sets itself, for this is the path of defeat. You write your future by denying yourself any chance at hope. Believe, if not in yourself, then me! Unless you claim I am the fool, blind to hope and redemption.”

The Cleric’s raised eyebrows continued upwards when his eyes widened. His observation of the futile effort included monitoring of the child’s mana flow. While it had remained unchanged up until this point, something was beginning to shift. Every part of his mind was brought front and center, completely abandoning the rest of his surroundings, as well as the musings that constantly ran in the background. He was now truly present. Not for the girl, but because of what he’d come here for. Did the Hero have more than blind faith guiding him?

“How?” Khiat asked. “How can I believe? This is what the gods gave me. I should want this, shouldn’t I? Don’t I reject them by fighting this?”

Gadriel pondered his answer for a few moments. “Even the gods can err, for did not the Crest arise due in part to their negligence? That is what we are taught. They cannot be everywhere at once, and they, it seems, were not there for you. If the nature of your class is abhorrent to you, then you have the right to oppose it. That is not blasphemy, that is taking ownership of your soul back from darkness.”

There wasn’t any way to deny it. The Hero was causing a fundamental shift in the underlying mana structure of the dusker by word alone. It should have been impossible, the soul was immutable… but fundamental laws could bend. That one had been abused more in the history of the Octyrrum than any other.

Unfortunately, it would still fail. The class would reassert itself without an intervention the Hero was incapable of. Either way, that this was even possible confirmed to Calius that his target was here. If they intervened on the girl’s behalf, he’d have them.

…

“How do I get out of here?” Daniel of the Octyrrum asked, completely done with the conversation.

The other Daniel stopped in place, still red-faced and not looking directly at him. “Look, I saw what was coming and tuned out. I didn’t watch.”

“Really?” Daniel could sense the partial deceit in the way the other couldn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Yes! It’s important that I keep track of what’s happening to you, but if there’s something, uh, that I don’t want to see I just check out for ten minutes or so.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“I know, it’s weird. I just have to.” Other Daniel walked away, and for perhaps the first time Daniel realized there was a wall of nine monitors over a desk on the far wall. The room on the other side had been revealed during the conversation, but he couldn’t see what was on the screens. Whatever had blocked the space beyond the invisible wall still apparently covered them. Very carefully, the other Daniel lifted a plastic case to reveal a red button. Just like what you’d expect would launch a missile or something.

“What is that?”

“I have an emergency option. Again, can’t tell you what it does, and I can only use it once. But if I have to-”

“I fought a fucking dragon!” Daniel said, now not quite at a shout. “Two! If you saw everything, you saw what happened to Hunter at the lake. If you didn’t use it then you’re a fucking bastard.”

Other Daniel winced but didn’t rise to Daniel’s level of anger. “It’s a really one-time only thing. If I use it then the whole reason you’re there could be meaningless.” He grimaced. “Do you know how hard it is to explain something I can’t explain?”

Daniel tried to breathe and slow his heart rate. He didn’t have Moment of Clarity to take a pause and think things over, but he could ignore the other Daniel. Sure, he couldn’t tell him why all this was happening, but he was him. Ostensibly. Daniel still wasn’t entirely on board with the whole cloning idea, but he did know there was only one thing that could push him to do what he’d claimed to have done. “This is about Dad, isn’t it?”

Other Daniel’s red cheeks turned stark white. “F-fuck,” he choked. “You, you, uh, no?” Daniel gave him a blank stare in return, although underneath it his heart was pounding. “I really can’t tell you about that.”

One of my hands just shook there, Daniel noted as he read the obvious lie. According to Thomas he had some kind of tell, and he knew it wasn’t as obvious as the other signs. “You just did. Tell me the rest.”

“I can’t!” He hit the desk he was standing near with a fist, coming dangerously close to the exposed button. “I don’t know everything that went into setting this up, but it’s fucking important. I’m always walking the line, always on edge. I don’t get to sleep easy, and I don’t get to sleep at all if you stay up. If you think you know why I’m doing this, then you know why I’m going to stick with exactly what I was told to do.”

“Is he here, on my side? How could he be here if you can’t-”

His other self was beginning to look physically pained. “Please, stop.”

“Fuck no! You- hey!” Daniel did shout as his other self touched something just outside the frame, and disappeared. He continued shouting for a few minutes before giving up. “I thought you said you didn’t have magic,” he complained bitterly when the other finally appeared.

“I don’t. It’s,” Other Daniel tried to explain but struggled with himself for a moment. “I guess this wasn’t on the list? If I’m careful… Look, if you push me like that again I’ll have to hide. We both know how smart we are and I can’t let things like that slip.”

“Ok. Ok.” Daniel took a deep breath. “Say I believe all of this. If I can’t go back home, then what do I do?”

“Enjoy all of your magical powers?” the other Daniel said in a brave attempt at a positive spin.

“You make never being able to see my family again sound so pleasant.”

“I…” Other Daniel took a step back and sat on the desk chair. Daniel looked around while he did and noticed two whiteboards on another wall, content blocked by whatever filter was in the barrier between them. On the other wall was a bed barely a step up from a cot, a microwave, and a small closet.

“Where’s the exit?” Daniel asked, indicating the room when it seemed his other self had no defense for that.

“That kinda goes on the list?” Other Daniel smiled apologetically as he had to reference that yet again. “This place technically isn’t on Earth or the Octyrrum, though it’s more on Earth than not. The explanation I got didn’t go into much detail but when this place was built they did something to it. While I’m directly connected to you like this, I can’t leave or it would break the connection.”

“So you’re just staying here all the time?” Other Daniel had said that before, but the look of the other side was starting to make Daniel realize he wasn’t kidding. “What about Mom? Alex and Ami?”

“We weren’t keeping in touch well if you remember,” other Daniel said wearily. Sadly. “We’ll keep being distant until I get out of here.”

“When’s that?”

“That’s on the list.” They both sighed at that, mention of the family taking the wind out of their sails.

“So you have to stay here to be a glorified button pusher?”

“No. I think it’s more than that. I don’t know everything either but I can guess.” Other Daniel stood and replaced the clipboard to where it had been hanging out of sight. “I was given a set of instructions at the start of this by someone who doesn’t know what’s going on. Chris, if his name matters. It’s not on the list,” he added in an attempt at humor. “I’m watching, but also keeping track of what you learn, what you can do, and the people you meet. I can see what’s in your Encyclopedia, for example.” Other Daniel seemed reluctant for a moment, before continuing. “I also have to screen out some stuff you can’t know. Other people, at least one god, are doing that too. Not that I’m talking with them, some stuff comes pre-screened before I send it to your Focus.” He swiveled the chair nervously, ready for another explosion. It didn’t come.

“Alright. And you didn’t get told what else you have to do because I’m here too early?”

“That’s what I’m thinking. I knew this would happen eventually but the instructions just mentioned it. I thought I’d get another set before you’d get here. I should have by now.”

“So when do I get to learn all this hidden knowledge?”

“You don’t. Ever. Unless that changes, I guess,” other Daniel finished lamely, pointing to the list. “You’re the man on the ground, I’m your handler. If what you need to know changes I can fill you in. Right after this talk I’ll ask Chris if he’s gotten anything.”

Daniel nodded, still thinking. “My Encyclopedia isn't just part of my Focus. That’s why I kept it when the feature got changed?”

Other Daniel thought for a moment before simply answering, “Makes sense. I have no idea what was going on with that guy that showed up at the border, by the way. I didn’t even realize it’d happened until I read the notifications.”

“Ok, so to sum all of this up, you can’t tell me anything, I’m stuck in monster hell and I’m never leaving, all so you can get Dad back. Great.” Daniel walked in a circle, looking out into the great void. “How do I get out of here?”

“You can just… wait! You can’t tell anyone about this. I mean anyone. What you’ve told people already is fine, but nothing about this.”

Daniel glared at himself, borrowing a little trick from Tlara. In that moment there was disgust, which was a weird emotion to feel for someone who was the same as you. Only, he wasn’t the same person as the one in front of him. Not anymore. “No. I’m telling them. Not Thomas, obviously, but Hunter, Evalyn, Tak, and Khare deserve to know. Lograve too, when we get back to the city.”

“That could ruin everything!”

“So what? You already ruined my life.” Daniel’s eyes fell to the floor and his voice grew smaller. “No, I guess I wouldn’t exist if you didn’t do this, but I still don’t owe you anything.”

The sliver of hostility in his voice threw the other Daniel for a moment. “This wasn’t how I thought it’d go,” he replied with the same melancholy as before. “I didn’t know it’d be like this. When you showed up now I thought you’d be happy, or at least relieved that someone was still on this side. But yeah, that’s fair I guess. If you don’t know what I do. I’ve seen everything, or almost everything, that’s happened to you but I haven’t felt it.”

“You haven’t. I can tell.” Daniel could almost feel the other version of him wince at those words but didn’t hold back. “If you had, you wouldn’t ask me to keep this from my friends. How do I get out.” That wasn’t a question, and it wasn’t spoken like one.

“You just-” other Daniel trailed off again, fully turning around in his chair to look up at one of the monitors. “Take out your phone!”

Daniel was surprised to find it still there and functioning. On edge, he inspected it for any differences but found none. A notification popped up. The timing of that with the click of other Daniel’s mouse was impossible to miss. “You are screening what I see?”

“Yeah, anything that I can. I don’t have to take out much, most of it is other people on your side. I’m also the one who answers the questions you ask, by the way. You’re welcome.”

Daniel looked up quickly from his phone at that. “Not all of my questions were out loud. Are you reading my thoughts?”

“No.” The other Daniel seemed to be getting tired of the scrutiny. “If you were thinking towards the phone it might have been counted by the- look, just read it. I think this is important.”

Alert: Entity: Khiat has partially met the requirements for Class Evolution. ??? has unsuccessfully prevented this process from beginning. The affected entity is not eligible for evolution to any standard, unrestricted Class. Continuation of this process without intervention may lead to harmful side effects. Through use of ???, you may attempt to guide this process to a positive outcome by enabling ??? in the affected entity.

-

Allow / Deny

The notification eventually timed out, but the options stayed. “What are you hiding?”

“Nothing! Look, it’s not important. I’m not there, but I still care about what’s happening. I know what’s happening with her. Watching, remember? If this could help, we should do it.”

“Show me what’s behind the question marks and I will.”

“I didn’t do that! It was Torch, probably. The knowledge god. Their name came up when you awakened Hunter. I even think-“ he shook his head. “Not the time. You heard what the Cleric’s going to do if Khiat keeps going like she is, and this notification makes it sound like things can get even worse. If this can help, you should do it. This could be like Hunter.”

“It only says I can help guide the process.” Daniel clutched at the phone. “This could make things worse.”

“Or better?”

“Tell me something, anything, that supports that.”

“Do you want to help her?”

“Yes!”

“Then this is probably the only way you can.” Other Daniel was still facing away, probably to not give anything away by body language. After Daniel had intuited the reason for all of this, he was being very careful. “I don’t know everything. I’m making my own guesses here. What your phone is asking you to do is use something you don’t know about yet. I don’t know exactly what it is or how it works, but it sounds important and powerful. It’s probably behind some of the powers you have that you don’t know about yet, and powers go along with the intent of the ones using them. If you don’t want to hurt her, then you can’t. It’s what you want to happen that matters.”

“That’s still just a guess,” Daniel pointed out, but he felt the truth in it too. Could this help her? “You know what this will do to me if you’re wrong.”

“I’d push that button if I could, but there’s only one I can.” Other Daniel turned back around with that, belatedly closing the case as he did so. “I guess you have to ask what you’re more afraid of. What happens if I’m wrong, or what happens if you don’t do anything.”