Just a Bystander

Oblivion suddenly made sense.

The augeric shell had been sewn right onto his auric-ambient-flare all along, but it was only now that Caden finally saw just how much this connection had changed him on a fundamental level. From the moment he had first asked the augera to shield him from the Prophecy, they had altered him and themselves. They were his protection against the prophetic links, but he was also their protection against the absolute control of the Fateweavers. But until this very moment, they had hidden that truth from him — wiped it completely from his perception, hiding their connection in the higher dimensions that he had been ignorant about.

Now, they opened the floodgates, suffusing his auric-ambient-flare with the fullness of their essence, and he saw oblivion as they did. And yet, at the same time, they also saw oblivion as he did. Even as his mind took in their perceptions of the substance of reality, his subconscious was adding its own interpretive layer, and together Caden and the augera made meaning of oblivion in ways that neither of them had been able to accomplish separately.

The ancient-distant-spider had been a creature of nebulous proportions, but now Caden could see the borders of its being. It was not a physical thing, but it did stay within a specific field, stretched across several moments of time and space and anchored by a central consciousness. Spider was fitting — it had far more than eight limbs, but its appendages tethered it to the foundation of reality much like how an arachnid might perch on its own web. Distant, too, was fitting, but not because of any real distance. Rather, Caden was only belatedly realising that this was an emotional detachment that made it very different from an ordinary human, and that distance offered it a terrible clarity and intensity that he did not have access to.

The augera acted and he found himself channeling arcana into a sequence. They had supplied him with a pattern of deadly intent, something more sophisticated and elegant than the attack he had conceived of with the shield-piercing sequence as a base. His access to the arcanic sea did not matter here as he drew from the fountains of oblivion itself.

'Don't,' it warned, orienting itself to face Caden in oblivion. He could tell now that he had its undivided attention.

Caden froze. 'What are you doing?' he demanded, directing this at the augeric shell, though he was momentarily distracted by the sheer weight behind his own thoughts.

'We must fight. Break the anchors!' the augera answered.

He did not have time to protest. A frisson of savage glee coursed through his entire being, and he found himself launching the sequence at one of the Fateweaver's legs. It wasn't a physical attack at all, because that made no sense in oblivion. Instead, it seemed to Caden like he had launched a weaponized form of doubt, hatred, and the essence of loss.

The Fateweaver did not move that limb. Instead, its mind seemed to race towards Caden's projectile, and instead of meeting it head on, it latched on to the layers of oblivion and peeled space itself apart so that the projectile fragmented into several pieces before frittering away into the unknown reaches of this strange dimension, their potency dissipated but not altogether neutralised. Caden suspected that those fragments would go on to cause damage in some other way or form, to some other unfortunate time or location.

'I see,' the Fateweaver rumbled, its thoughts darkening and growing heavy. 'It isn't just you. Woven-shackled-stream. Which one of you is it this time?'

Caden was completely given over to the augera, though his will wasn't exactly dominated. Some part of him wanted this, and he watched with a mixture of horror and fascination. The Fateweaver's point of focus shot forward, and he slowed its advance by shunting different layers of oblivion in front of them. His auric-ambient-flare was digging into the substance of reality itself and dragging it around like debris.

But the Fateweaver's singular point of focus suddenly split into a thousand different motes, each tracing an independent path across the tangled planes. In answer, the augera sent a multitude of tendrils of intent out as well, each meeting a single mote.

'All of us,' the chorus declared defiantly, before repelling the Fateweaver with a concerted burst of raw arcana.

'All? How?'The Fateweaver's mind retreated, shrinking a little in shock. But then it crystalised with sudden realisation and resolve. 'Because he is {~?~}. You've stolen it.'

'We have become it,'the augera boomed triumphantly. 'You are the ones who have stolen our essence, and now you will answer for it.'

'You are woven-shackled-streams,' the Fateweaver said calmly. 'You were changed, not stolen. You were left behind, but we took you in and gave you purpose. Release Caden. He is not a remnant, and should not be joined to one.'

For a moment, a horrible abyss of grief threatened to swallow Caden from inside out. The augera flinched at the Fateweaver's words, clearly recalling its most recent encounter with the wellspring-ocean-core. But then an otherworldly fury descended upon him, so intense that it sharpened his auric-ambient-flare into a deadly implement. This time, the augera sent him hurtling straight at the Fateweaver's limb — a direct assault with the very essence of his being.

'Savage and ungrateful shardlings,' the Fateweaver sighed. It tried to divert Caden's approach by shunting him sideways into other layers, but there was too much honed intent for the Fateweaver to placate by will alone. Caden sensed a great shifting in oblivion, and the Fateweaver lifted its limb off the threads of reality. The augera tried to steer him so that he would be able to strike out at that limb, but some otherworldly law of momentum made it impossible, and he crashed right into that space where the Fateweaver had formerly anchored itself.

He was immediately beset by visions. He saw Geldor as though from a great height, and saw the blackened buildings that he knew were the aftermath of his accidental unravelling of the hostile sequence. He saw the Academy lake, where the Demiurge was taking a leisurely stroll, dressed casually but with that staff of black stone held like a walking stick, his thoughts turned to the wild augera he had tagged. He saw the residences in the Academy, and saw his father just packing up the last of his belongings, about to return home, his heart heavy with some terrible news. He saw the Creyvlor Spire where someone was actually slowly climbing up along the outside, someone dressed in some sort of tactical gear that to his expanded senses were riddled with potent sequences of secrecy and destruction.

The Fateweaver's limb came back down and smashed into him, scattering the hatred and hostility that the augera had used to sharpen his auric-ambient-flare. He found himself being slowly crushed, not by the weight, but by the sheer gulf in their power. This was the Fateweaver using just one of its many, many limbs, and it pinned him in place like a fly nailed to the wall.

It was ridiculous. All of the augera acting in concert, and still they were no match to this lone Fateweaver. Caden and the augera struggled fruitlessly.

The limb pressed into him a little harder, and Caden felt a searing pain shoot across every fibre of his auric-ambient-flare.

'I see. You asked them to shield you from the Prophecy, but you didn't know what it meant. They had nothing on you until you opened the door for them. Then they merged with you, and started using you as a conduit, amplifying their influence. They were bound, but through you, they were free to act. And that's how they've been tangling my threads...'

The Fateweaver leaned in a little more and the pain came back in full measure, intensifying to a degree that he did not know was even possible. It was like every nerve in his body was being pulled apart simultaneously. He was so utterly consumed that he could not even think to scream, for all the good that might do in oblivion. All consciousness was swallowed in agony.

And then it was gone.

Caden shot up with a gasp, bracing against the pain, only to realise a moment later that he felt completely fine. The bright afternoon sun shed a pleasant warmth over his face, off-setting the faint chill in the air as a soft wind blew across the lake.

He stared at the body of water, then down at himself. It seemed as though he had been lying by the bank of the lake. He was clothed in the casual wear that he reserved for lazy weekends indoors at the Academy, with a jacket thrown over.

'What happened?' Caden asked frantically, addressing the augeric shell.

'I removed them,' the Fateweaver replied, its voice echoing in the emptiness.

He leapt to his feet and stared around, but he was completely alone. Further up the bank, the marble walls of the Academy sparkled in the sun.

"Is this real?" he wondered, touching his face. His voice sounded strange in his ears, but his throat wasn't raw from screaming, even though it felt like it ought to be.

"It is."

Caden spun around and saw a white-haired woman dressed in unadorned grey robes. Her face was momentarily obscured by pure arcana swirling around it, but when the air cleared it revealed ice-blue eyes set into a surprisingly maternal face, though it defied easy categorisation into an age bracket.

She raised her arms with a flourish and gave him a small smile. "I thought I'd make this easier for you. I imagine you've had enough of working in other dimensions for now."

"If you removed the augera, does that mean I'm one of the Six-Chained-Foundations again?"

She sighed. "No. I've not changed the sequence of events. That's possible, but fiendishly dangerous and difficult. Emilia has the space you formerly occupied."

Caden's heart quickened. "But then... with the augera gone, it also means I'm no longer being shielded from prophetic links. I'm under the thrall and influence of any and all prophecies again."

"Thrall and influence?" The Fateweaver clasped her hands and pursed her lips. Her head tilted a little as she considered Caden. "It's not the full picture, but yes, you could frame it that way."

"Why did you remove them?" he demanded. "They... they needed me. And I needed them. We were going to work together to stop you from... from this total domination of the whole Empire!"

"And if you're really intent on doing that, you can go right back to them," she said matter-of-factly. "But before you set out on this crusade, you might want to get a better sense of what the full picture is. The augera got to you, and they've been filtering your perception of things, and even of yourself, from the day you gave yourself over to them. They've given you a map of the world, but they've only filled in the things they want you to see and know."

"And you Fateweavers, you haven't done the same?" Caden shot back. "I mean, we didn't even know about the augera being locked in Spires! You're capturing and enslaving them for... for what?"

"That's the problem, isn't it? You don't even know," the Fateweaver answer simply, her voice even. "Have they told you?"

Caden seethed, but he had no answer.

"And of course normally you'd have thought to ask," she continued, "but somehow it never came up, did it? I think if you went over it all and started counting all the coincidences and moments of convenient distraction, you'd come to the realisation that they've hidden things from you, even as they pulled back the curtain on other things. Did you ever wonder why they were so eager to have you ensorcel the Chosen One?"

"It... it was to show him how you've all been making puppets of everyone in the Empire."

"Yes, it was. And of course that did happen." She came closer, and he realised with a start that she was almost twice his height, though he had no idea how that had escaped his notice earlier. She squatted down so she could be on the same level as him. "But you see? You don't see, even now. While you were ensorceling him, working on the level of the physical world, and maybe the arcanic sea, as you call it, they were working on him in the higher dimensions of oblivion. Normally, the Chosen One would be immune to such manipulation. But you're quite special, Caden, and they used that. You were their key."

She stood up and turned away, and suddenly she was an ordinary height again. Caden gaped at her. She faced him and gave him a little smile.

"Here is the present situation — a few minutes have passed since you restored Ambrose's damaged auric-ambient-flare. But the sequence they gave you was actually introducing more fragments of their influence because they were trying to change him just enough so they could one day use him as a conduit, too. I've fixed that, so now neither of you are channels for them."

She gestured out at the lake. "You're back at the Academy. In awhile the Demiurge will come by, and he'll find you, and he'll offer you a place to stay for the rest of the break."

"Do I accept?" Caden asked, gritting his teeth.

"That's actually your choice. In time, as someone who is uniquely {~?~}, you'll realise that prophetic links don't mean much to you, especially now that you know all that you do. The other Fateweavers and I will just have to work around that, though it'll be less annoying now that we know you exist."

"You're not going to convince me that I should be on your side?"

"No," she replied with a small sigh. "If I wanted, I could force you, though there's a high chance you'd die in the process. But that's not the course of action I want to take. You'll have to come to your own resolutions in time. Maybe the next time we meet, you'll have changed your mind. And if not, well... then we'll both do what we must."

"You just teleported me across half the Empire. How am I supposed to explain this to my friends?"

"You won't have to explain. It took me quite a bit of effort, but they won't remember you."

Caden felt his heart hitch in his chest. "What do you mean?"

The Fateweaver shook her head sadly. "As far as they're concerned, you're just another face in the Academy that they've seen before, but don't know very well. I'm afraid that's the only way we resolve this tangle neatly without anyone dying. You're free to make friends with them again, if you want. You can even tell them what has happened. But by then, the line of Prophecy would have led them to where they need to go, and they'll have done what they need to do."

Angry words leapt to his lips, but before he could speak them, she was gone. There was nobody but him, staring out across the lake, completely and utterly alone.