Icarus Awakens

It had been almost two months since she’d returned to the city. Six weeks, or was it seven? Fuck, but time could slip by when you were just lazing about. Tlara’s eyes opened earlier that morning to a now familiar sight. Dark brown stone. For all their wealth and status, the Seliri family didn’t have much in the way of decorations for the ceiling. Who would care about something like that? Definitely not Tlara, and she paid it no mind.

She rose with the sun. It was impossible not to with an eastern facing window, even though the Rose Spire should have blocked it. Little known trivia, the Wing Spire used to be named the Dusk Spire, with the eastern-most the Dawn Spire instead of Rose. Sun, Moon, Dawn, and Dusk. Two had kept the original names at least. One had changed ages ago, and in the intervening years, the Spire that would become dominated by an encroaching faction of avianoids from Threst would be renamed the Wing Spire. Tlara’s predecessors had lacked creativity, it seemed.

In truth, she didn’t care about any of that. This could be called the ‘Feathers-Up-My-Ass’ Spire for all she cared. Tlara walked over to the window and tried to lean out, a small spark of anger rising when the Shroud prevented her from sticking her head fully out. Normally she’d be cursing it for the sin of doing nothing more than existing, but in these few weeks Tlara had changed somewhat. By doing nothing.

“Hey. Where the fuck’s dad?” She greeted the rest of her ‘family’, coming down to catch breakfast as she normally did these days. Willow and Alecia. The first she gave a customary glare and as for the second, well, she was kind of cool. Tlara had had time to figure out Willow disapproved of the second marriage, even if she hid it, and that was enough to get Tlara on board.

“He’s sleeping in.”

“You two fuck too long last night or something?”

Not missing a beat, Alecia snorted and waved a pastry in the air. “No. Yes, and no. He has a late night appointment today and needed to sleep in. What with the dusker faction being in shambles for so long, I think we’ve all forgotten about having to accommodate them. Terribly annoying, but then again it’s not that I dislike the nightlife.”

Willow, for her part, seemed like she wanted to slide under the table and through a convenient garbage hatch out of the Spire. If it was her first week back Tlara would have nettled her, maybe drawing her into another argument. You couldn’t start a day right without getting the blood pumping, only she didn’t today.

“Kay.” Tlara took a seat and started eating. It felt weird, just sitting down in peace without making everyone else regret their life choices. But Alecia was immune to her peculiarities and Tlara wasn’t sure she wanted to be hostile with Willow right now.

Right. The truth was Tlara could count the number of times she’d left Wing Spire without having to keep track in her head. Here she was, half a roster to fill out and a glutton of monsters building up in the wild with the Hunter’s Guild distracted and she’d done nothing. Captured no more monsters and built up no more advancement. In fact, she still had some potential to use. The wyvern she’d preened so much over sat in stasis. It’s not like it would go bad, the opposite actually.

The problem was that Tlara was depressed and afraid she might be hitting her wall. Worse, she was terrified her sister was right. Wasn’t that something? That was a thought Tlara would never have had before. She’d claw her eyes out before admitting that that naive, stupid girl she’d had all those shouting matches with was right. But after taking some time to think about everything that had happened in the Thormundz, Tlara hadn’t been able to avoid certain memories and the conclusions she’d slowly drawn from them.

She ate in silence, not caring what it was she was eating and ignoring Alecia’s further attempts to unsettle Willow. The Lady had figured out Willow’s distaste as well and that had led to its own form of tension. Willow would inherit everything, including Alecia’s side, even if she and the Silver Eye were to have children. Tlara, having an inkling into how the Lady thought, expected that the word ‘ungrateful’ would be how Alecia characterized her sister.

There’d also be the consideration of having Willow assassinated or exiled in time, but that’d be a long term play. Nothing immediate, not while her father was alive. Strike in the intervening period. Crest, Tlara might be a target too. She couldn’t use most of the family’s more impressive items and none of the collection that made up their legacy, but she was a Seliri. A complication if not a direct threat. Yeah, I get her. It just doesn’t matter.

Breakfast was coming to an end and the time for the decision was here. Just like every day for the past week or so. She was about to leave. Tlara could say something and find out if what she feared was true, or discover that she was just a fucking idiot and her memory had been scrambled after being mind-jacked. It could be either. Waking up after the battle at the lake had been rough. She’d screamed, but not for the reason people assumed.

“Hey.” Willow’s retreat from the table paused. Her sister tensed, anticipating. Tlara had been oddly tolerable the past few days. Was that just her giving Willow time so that the next few biting words would sting? “What are you doing today?”

“I’m going to talk. With people,” Willow answered curtly, trying not to fall into whatever trap Tlara had set.

“Cool. You’re just everyone’s fucking friend aren’t you?” Willow winced and Alecia pretended not to listen while doing so intently. Here it comes. “I want to talk, later. Outside the city. You wanna-” Tlara’s head snapped sideways, somehow conflicted. Willow was astounded. “You wanna meet by the west gate this evening?”

“No?” Willow asked, now confused. She couldn’t see the angle, or rather, she saw too many. Maybe this was leading to some kind of ambush or other kind of humiliation, but that wasn’t Tlara’s normal game. She was crafty with her words and would stoop to any kind of mischievousness that fell short of lethality. Though that depended on the person. But this required too much advanced planning and deception.

Tlara hesitated again, but forced the words out. “Fuck me. One of my monsters is weird. I want to make sure it’s not-”

“You found one?!” Willow exclaimed and was then immediately recriminating. “You, you dominated one!? How could you? Just to spite me?” Tlara stood up, ignoring Alecia’s raised eyebrows, and headed for the door. Willow couldn’t stop her but some of her items could. She didn’t use any. “What are you doing?”

“You know where to find me. If you’re interested. I’m heading out.”

“I can come with you now!” Willow said, equal parts excitement and horror. It was an odd mix, but if Tlara had what she claimed it changed everything. The Beastmaster only replied by raising one of her fingers alone as she walked away, towards the stairs and presumably the lobby below them. It’d become a habit of hers recently.

“What’s this about?” Alecia asked keenly, with a smile showing teeth.

“You know about my philosophy?” Willow could have followed Tlara, but she held off. Her mind was buzzing.

“Oh, that nonsense. Monsters are people too? Absurd. You’ve never seen one have you?”

“Not one in the wild,” Willow admitted. “But-” She cut herself off. She couldn’t explain why she knew she was right, especially to her, to Lady Alecia. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”

“Heh. And you're the one your father wants to give the city to,” Alecia snidely remarked.

…

Tlara left quickly, not wanting to let her sister catch up. There was no real reason she wanted to do this at night, other than it would be harder for other people to see what was happening. If Willow caught up to her now it was more likely she’d cave and do it now to get it over with, or just call it off to spite her. Instead, Tlara was going to leave the Spire as soon as possible.

Getting to the city proper was no major issue. On most Spires, she’d have to take the slow enchanted stairs or bully her way onto a private elevating chamber, but the Wing Spire had been modified to suit avianoids. Even those who didn’t gain a class still preferred to go for an item allowing flight if they were rich enough. Their race couldn’t help but be fascinated with the sky.

There was a balcony on at least every floor, with an opening in the Shroud so that they were useful. She didn’t summon her wyvern when she reached one, though there would have been just enough space. In addition to her misgivings, her father had warned her about how the city might respond to flying monsters after a certain incident. Of course he has to ruin fucking everything. But the warning had been something approaching nice of her father. She supposed.

Tlara fell through the air, not activating her ability until halfway down. This was a rush. Something to wake her up. She mildly regretted cluing her sister into her fears now, but she had to know. That wasn’t important, this feeling was. Why had she stayed inside for so long?

Avianoids didn’t grow wings, or Grow Wings, out of their backs. The items Daniel had made for the dragon fight were ridiculous in that regard. How was a creature that stood on two legs supposed to direct itself through the air with wings coming out of the back? The skeletal structure couldn’t support that. Tlara, more bird than human at that moment, understood this. But that was magic for you, it was the same thing that had turned her arms into the wide, nimble limbs that carried her through the air.

The greatest tragedy was that Tlara still wasn’t strong enough to sustain her flight. Level disparity cut against the amount of lift she could produce and most couldn’t fly permanently until they got Grow Wings to level 3. They said it was easier in Threst because of the Spoke, but she’d never been there.

All she could do was prolong her time in the air and she tried to stay there forever. It didn’t last. Eventually, she landed on the street. That wasn’t uncommon, especially in the shadow of the Wing, but a few of the people on the road grabbed at weapons before relaxing. Even one of the guards.

Fuck, everyone’s jumpy. Dad, what are you doing? While she’d been in hiding, that didn’t make her unaware of what was happening in the city. A third of the total guard had resigned since Lord Rodreick’s death, shouldering a hefty penalty to owed wages rather than stick out the current crisis. The problem was that the current crisis had been ongoing since before Tlara had returned to the city. The hunters drafted into service were bridging the gap, for now. They weren’t trained for this and were used to meeting aggression with powers and overwhelming force.

You couldn’t be the daughter of Silver Eye without seeing where this was going. Civil unrest, if not managed, turned into uncivil unrest. Or worse. Her father had denied influencing the other factions to delay their nominations of new successors and, to be fair, that would be a terrible idea. However, she knew he was angling to take over.

Not to become a Tyrant, which would weaken him at least in the short run, but to seize control of the public will. If Bennar took a sudden fall down the wrong flight of steps, Aucrest would be the sole leader of Aughal. The region had laws meant to prevent another Tyrant or Tyrant-adjacent from ruling, but how long would those last? To her knowledge, there had never been any one person in control since Armafus fell.

She glanced at the body of a dusker being loaded onto a cart near where she landed. The sun had taken them rather than any mortal, meaning they were very heavy. Deadweight had an entirely different meaning for that race. Normally, you wouldn’t see that. Duskers never turned away one of their own in need of shelter. Death by sun was a fate they didn’t wish on their worst enemies, and Tlara didn’t blame them. She’d heard of a few tragedies among their population in her youth. All to carelessness, nothing like the supposed assassination of Ytaya whose faction had decided to leave her in her grave. Cruel, but practical.

Tlara’s thoughts were wandering. She was wandering. She had a day before she’d meet her sister and was uncharacteristically hesitant to bring out one of her monsters. Even the safe ones. So what to do? Accost random people on the street? That might be fun, but some of the guards could be twitchy enough to try to knock her out before she could pull rank. See if anyone else from the Thormundz was still here? Fuck no.

She had no one. It’d been that way in the Thormundz too, but at least the Hunter’s Guild valued her class and level. Sure, she’d had to rotate between teams because they were all jerks that didn’t want to work with her, but she’d gotten what she’d wanted out of it. Beasts. Minions. Tools. She’d been proud of each one she’d captured. Well, not of the monsters themselves, but the fact that she had captured them. Having a living being completely under her control and knowing it had been her that broke its will was a thrill that almost matched flying.

Dominating monsters took effort for a Beastmaster. Drive, maybe even passion. Wisdom was key to the class because the domination effect was a form of mental attack. Feeling unsure as she did now, Tlara knew she couldn’t muster enough to take over anything worthwhile. Certainly not a wyvern. How had she been so sure before, absent of any doubt? The moment came to her again. Cold, around her arms and back. A blinding headache. And the giant spider pinning her to the ground with its legs.

After hearing what had happened, Tlara had to agree it was the right play. Some of the others had died after jumping into the lake to stop the gestalt from killing the Host. If she’d been left free to act she could have put herself at risk or ordered her active monster to protect what was controlling her. All in all, it was the right decision. What terrified Tlara and shook the foundations of her class was that her tool had made that decision. She’d never instructed it to do anything like it had. Her fear and uncertainty stemmed from her wondering why the monster had protected her in that way.

Spinner was different from the other monsters she had, Tlara knew. The others were completely obedient to a fault. The one she couldn’t stop naming in her head? That was what kept her up at night. Tlara was many things. Arrogant, vain, haughty. Things her father had taught her. But she wasn’t a monster herself. She could get a thrill out of chaining Crestspawn and making them fight to the death, but the thought that she might have done that to an actual person chilled her to the core.

…

Willow charged out of the manor, still too slow to have seen where Tlara went. Knowing that she’d never catch up, she sighed and decided to get on with her day. Getting out of the Spire took time. If only she could fly! But her father had only given her one item of their legacy and it couldn’t do that.

After reaching the streets, she first went to Perent, a baker. His daughter had recently broken her leg from a bad fall. She checked in: there was no news if the church could spare someone to heal it faster. That church was small comparatively, and bone was hard to heal. But she’d ask again. Some bread, and in exchange far more coin than it was worth.

That took ten minutes. Too much time! And yet not enough. Next, Moria, a widow whose son hadn’t come back from the Thormundz. One of her oldest friends, both in years and the time she’d known her. She felt shame at the impatience that crept in when that meeting stretched to twenty minutes, but she had so many people to see. Willow thought again of making a formal meeting of this as she ran to her next check in. Gather everyone in one place. They were good people, they would get along. But secret gatherings and ‘Spiritualists’ weren’t a combination that put people at ease. Especially not now.

Kelra, better but still heartbroken. She’d only had time for a few words with how long it had taken to get through the line, but she was important. Everyone was important. And not everyone despaired. Sevik, a shopkeeper who was handling the stress on the city fairly well, who just liked seeing regulars in. Teshan, a retired member of the guard who haunted the small park within the center of the Spires. The almost constant shade spared the fragile plants and allowed them to survive. He looked a bit worried now, true, because they were trying to drag him back into service.

So many people and so many faces. Her father thought she was trying to build up public support and solidify her station when it was time to pass the torch. That had been one of his prouder moments when he’d ‘figured it out’. He’d said it showed initiative. In truth she just liked people, and that was why she felt guilty the entire day. She wasn’t giving them the time she should.

Her frantic pace was arrested entirely in the midafternoon when she came back. Willow, who wasn’t the only person half-running in the streets, came to a sudden stop as someone grabbed and pulled her into an alleyway. She was scared for a moment until she saw who it was.

“You’re back!” Willow tried to keep her voice low as she drew closer, a little hesitantly. It was always hard to tell what she was thinking. Was she happy? Sad? Willow suspected she had a hand in what was going on, but this soon?

“You remain well?”

“Yes! What about you? You were gone for so long.”

“I returned earlier. More deliveries for the Artificer. You visited him only once?”

Willow struggled with whether she was being chastised or praised. “Yes, I didn’t see a reason to go back.” Going into what had almost happened would be too much for now. More importantly, Willow had something she wanted to say. “But, look, Tlara told me something this morning. She found one! I think she dominated it. Is that something we can fix?”

Whatever fears Willow had of the news being dismissed like last time were dispelled. The head tilted behind the hood in a decidedly thoughtful way. Or at least, that’s what Willow hoped. “Hmm. Yes, this is good news. Have you seen it?”

“No, she told me in the Spire and it’s probably too big to bring out at home. She said we could meet-”

“Where?” the other sharply asked, not letting her finish.

Willow took that as a good sign and beamed. “Outside the west gate, in the late evening, I think. Oh. We couldn’t meet like this.” She gestured to the dark alley. The one before her never appeared directly in sunlight. She’d told Willow before that this was due to how she’d returned but hadn’t given specifics.

“It is fine. Go. Confirm this if you can.” A hand absently pressed against the side of the hood and into what was behind. “There was another, wasn’t there? You mentioned it when we last met.”

“Yes, the ringcat the Artificer has! I don’t know if he’s in the city though.”

“Find that out too, if you can. I would like to meet both in due time. But do not miss this meeting with your sister.”

“Of course! But, what about you? What’s going on, is this it? And what about Arpan, what’s happening there?”

Willow somehow got the impression of a wide grin, though she couldn’t see it. “Oh, my child, everything is going just as we planned.”

…

Tlara ended up being late to her own appointment. As it turned out, her father’s name was worth literal gold in that she’d get ‘free’ drinks so long as she could convince proprietors she was who she said she was. The trick worked up until a certain point, which was when she moved on to the next place. That was pretty much how her day had gone, and a part of her delighted at thinking of the total she’d racked up.

It was almost dusk when she made it to the gate. There Willow was, practically shaking with anxiety. Fucking soft. She thinks monsters are so great? Let’s see how she likes this. And that was another reason. Tlara was about to show her sister a giant spider monster. It was 50/50 whether Willow would run off screaming or not, forever taking back all those idiotic ideas about monsters with souls. Or spirits. Whatever. “Hey.”

“Tlara! You’re drunk?”

“Yep. I’m good.” She stumbled, walking out of the gate as the sun in the distance turned red. “I’m good. Let’s go. Let’s, urgh, get this over with.” Willow looked back at the city for a moment, pausing as if she expected someone else. Oh fuck. “You didn’t invite any of your fucking friends did you?”

“No!” That seemed to rattle Willow for some reason.

“Good. Let’s go.”

“Do you want to sit down for a little bit first?”

Tlara hated the worry in that tone. “Fuck no.” She took a breath and controlled herself. Still swaying slightly, but she was good. If it wasn’t for the level disparity in endurance she wouldn’t have gotten to this degree of inebriation. Willow didn’t seem convinced, but she wasn’t the one deciding things here either. “We’ll walk for ten minutes, and I’ll show you.”

“What kind is it?” Willow was tailing her like one of those large lizards people tamed as pets. Not monsters, nothing like the greater skinks, just ones about the size of the dogs people from other regions couldn’t stop talking about. “Is it beast type? I’ve always thought one of those would be more likely, like the one your Artificer friend has.”

“First of all,” Tlara glared. “Not my friend. Fuck that guy. Anyway, yeah.”

“Is the one you have like his?” Willow was being bold all things considered. Maybe she thought the fact that Tlara was drunk would get her to open up more. She was right.

Tlara dragged out her answer by exaggerating false internal deliberations, keeping her sister on the hook for as long as possible. Then she dropped the hammer. “No. Mine doesn’t talk.”

“Oh.” Willow stopped mid-step. “What!?”

…

Willow’s heart was pounding. Speech? She hadn’t- nothing the book she’d been given had talked about this. It had talked about thinking monsters, but not of an intelligence on par with mortals. Just the precursors akin to the ones the gods had used to graft mortal races, humans excluded. The potential allies who could be turned against the others of their kind and help save lives.

That was why this was all important! If a monster was tamed or dominated, it couldn’t become more powerful and it couldn’t make more of itself. Charmed monsters could, but they always broke from control eventually. What the Spiritualists wanted was to find those special few, protect them, and make a force of defenders that could fight alongside mortals without the need for magical control. Maybe, if they could show everyone that these creatures still existed, new races could be Grafted! The gods must not think any still existed. That was surely the reason why they hadn’t made more, but Tlara herself had seen two!

And one talked. That changed everything. How? A part of her worried it was a lie, or that someone had played a trick on Tlara. But she hoped. It was who she was. She hoped, even as Tlara threw up a stone wall to further questions, just to hurt her. Willow hated that about her sister, though the abuse didn’t stop her from loving her. They’d both been through the death of their mother, and Willow understood why her sister hurt. She just wished Tlara wouldn’t hurt others to make herself feel better.

The torture didn’t last long. As soon as the gates were out of view Tlara opened one of the distinct pouches on her waist and dust flowed out. Not sand, the particles were larger and almost like dark ash. That hurt to see, a creature broken down and stored like an object. Especially if this was one of the rare few.

Willow’s neck bent further back and the shape continued taking form, but she didn’t move or back up. “Purple?” She asked, looking at large, crystal-like protrusions from the consolidating flesh. “Did you put those there?”

“Nah. A lot of the monsters there had them. For some fucking reason.” Tlara seemed put out that Willow wasn’t running away, even as the massive head fully formed. And its eyes tracked her. “This is Spinner.”

“I thought you didn’t name them.”

“I don’t.” Tlara scowled. “See! This is what I’m talking about. Why can’t I get that fucking name out of my head? And it’s done things I didn’t tell it to. Things that helped, sure, but I didn’t tell it to fucking do them. So.” Tlara gestured vaguely at Spinner. “Tell me if this is one of your magical dream fucking special monsters or whatever.”

The sun was setting. Tlara had been late, and a part of Willow hoped they’d stay out here long enough for it to get dark. The rest of her was fully intent on the monster in front of her. “And she doesn’t talk?” Willow didn’t circle the monster but walked toward its head. The monster was tall, and she couldn’t reach it even if she stood up on her talons. But without any signal from Tlara, it lowered itself to bring its eyes down to her level.

“See? That, fucking that. I didn’t tell it to do that!”

Willow reached out with a gentle hand. Spinner had a spider’s head, but it was mounted on a short neck. Somewhat disturbing, but in the eyes she saw intelligence. Something more in them than the animals of the city and the monsters that other Beastmasters walked through. It wasn’t anything you could find, not unless you were willing to look for it. “They’re real,” she said breathlessly. “She’s one of them. Tlara, you-” And then, everything went dark.

…

Tlara was trying her best to conceal all of her anxiety, hoping desperately that Willow wouldn’t be able to see the difference. But she’d clued in, right on those eyes. Even a sheltered brat like her could tell. Tlara was fucked and worse, Wrong. And then it happened. Rising from beneath the sand, a dust-colored cloak appeared behind Willow and struck her on the back of the head.

It had come from nowhere, and Willow didn’t get back up. Tlara froze as she remembered the ring Willow wore on her left hand. A piece of her family’s legacy. A powerful protective enchantment that whoever this was had gone right through.

Tlara was about to do something, her numbed mind somewhat slow to react, when they spoke. When she spoke. “Tlara, dear. It’s good to see you again.”

The voice chilled her instantly by its impossible familiarity. “Mom?” A hand shot through the lowered torso of Spinner, effortlessly carving through the carapace of the monster who was reacting faster than her master. The spider thing shuddered and fell to one side with the force, not getting up.

The woman held up something dark and fleshy, an expression impossible to read as her face was covered. “Thank you for this. Though, I am sorry my child. I cannot leave you as a witness.”