Chapter Text
The Flame Reaver thrashed through the torrents Dan Heng sent his way, blade breaking through the waters with explosive force. It splattered aside again and again, even as Dan Heng continued to channel the waters of the Marmoreal Palace. The powers of Imbibitor Lunae had the weight of sin and transgression, and he was loathe to bear the form of his past life unless he had to. For the sake of Amphoreus, for the sake of the hope for the Era Nova, he had set aside his spear and took up this crown of horns. The destructive half of a Vidyadhara High Elder's powers were his to command.
And it was not enough.
The next thrust parted through the tides and toward his chest. He'd die defiant, he'd die for his friends, he'd die as a Trailblazer—
And then he woke up.
"Hey you. You're finally awake," a familiar voice said, with the air of a joke only they'd understand.
Dan Heng blinked, seeing the Trailblazer stand by a cliff's edge. Stelle had been overlooking a small village as he slumbered. She reached down and offered her hand with a grin. She always did try to keep things from getting too grim. Though her sense of humor was worse than March's, Stelle was one of the most dependable people he knew. He took her hand and she hoisted him back up onto his feet. Still holding onto him, she reached out with her other hand and pressed it against his chest.
"Stelle?" he asked, after giving her a moment.
She pulled back with a sheepish smile and rubbed the back of her head. “Sorry, sorry. I was just making sure you weren't…”
Dead, he finished in his head.
He could see where she was coming from: Stelle had died upon their arrival to Amphoreus and it was only due to the Remembrance that she managed to stay around long enough to find her soul again. It was easy to forget that this happened at all with the way she typically acted. He didn't think she'd fear it happening to her again, but instead she feared it for him.
"Don't worry," he said, “If I did die, I would reincarnate like any other Vidyahara.”
Even as he said this, Dan Heng knew this wasn't exactly true. Reincarnation was already a fragile enough process without bringing outright fatality into it. And this was already disregarding that his reincarnation cycle had been previously tampered with. He had no idea if it would affect his next incarnation. But it was an attempt at comforting the fact of mortality, his mortality, to his friend.
Stelle was quiet for a moment and then mumbled, “But it wouldn't be you.”
That meant more than she knew but Dan Heng was always wont to keep his emotions close to his chest. He inclined his appreciation with a tilt of his head before letting the moment sit between them. Then he walked up to the edge.
"Is this the Era Nova Phainon was supposed to bring?" he wondered aloud.
"Dunno…" Stelle wandered up next to him, hands folded behind her head. “I was busy fighting off these little dragon monsters that were making their way to you.”
He gave her a questioning look.
She shrugged. “They disappeared after I beat them. Some left this sorta hazy outline after I gave them the ole Galactic Baseballer special, but they faded away after I moved away from them. Doubt they were of the Path of Permanence.”
“It would simplify matters, given that the Permanence is definitely not one of the three Paths involved in Amphoreus. If the Permanence's presence was here, then we would have definite confirmation that we're no longer on Amphoreus.”
"Well, the best way we're gonna figure out matters is the locals. Let's hope we don't get in trouble with the local authorities when we make contact. We're what… two for two on that?" Stelle stretched. “Don't you feel invigorated?”
Dan Heng merely gave her a blank look, waiting for her to elaborate. It could be anything from an actual keen observation to the buildup for a punchline.
“It's like I can finally jump, for the first time in my life.”
He sighed and shook his head. “We're not racing down there.”
“Oh come on. Look at this wild expanse and tell me that something doesn't yearn inside you.”
“I don't think running down like a pair of insane people will help our image.”
Stelle gave a mock pout, but otherwise started walking. They wound their way down the hill with Stelle walking carefree and Dan Heng on alert. She would, every once and while, pick up some of the fauna and plop it into her storage. Stelle may not have looked it, let alone acted like it, but she was actually very inquisitive. It just manifested in strange and weird ways. Dan Heng was much simpler in comparison: he preferred quiet interviews and even quieter archives.
"Did the Flame Reaver get you too?" he eventually asked.
"No." Stelle turned solemn. "You weren't there in the baths, so I just spent my time helping the survivors." Her tone briefly turned light, distant, as though nothing could touch her. “Side quest stuff, you know?”
“And do you remember how you got here?”
“You'd expect there'd be something like a blinding light, you know? But all I remember was a strange sound… and then I was here.”
“And I did not, as far as I am aware. Is this a large scale event or a targeted one?”
“Well, if we start to encounter familiar faces from Amphoreus, then that'll be a point for the former. Unless it's like that phenomena Mr. Yang mentioned. Expies or something.”
“Not what it's called.”
But he understood what she meant: that phenomena that individuals across the cosmos could be born with identical appearances and mostly share the same fate. She did have a point. If they encountered the faces of the Chryso Heirs here, was it because they were transplanted from the last Era or was it because they happened to be a planet that coincidentally had similar faces? If that was the case, he'd suspect either the Elation or the Enigmata. But he was overthinking this. The best thing for them to do was get more information.
They managed to reach the village that Stelle pointed out. Upon closer inspection, it seemed more like an outpost — a prelude to the main attraction that rested on the far horizon. Large towers and walls rose upon the foothills as increasingly cresting waves until the city became a mountain unto itself. A fortress and a city, all at once.
Stelle held a hand to her head at sight.
"Something wrong?" he asked.
“Just for a second, I saw something. Like everything was dark and in ruins?”
“Think it's something due to your Remembrance connection?”
"Yeah…" Stelle jolted. “Wait! Mem! Mem's missing! You here? Mem?! Pink puppy? If you're hiding on purpose, I will never stop calling you that!”
Her shoulders slumped a little. “I can feel Mem, but it's like something is smothering our connection.”
He nodded, before taking notice of everyone that was heading up the trail to the village, to that great city beyond. There were people here dressed in a fashion similar to Amphoreus, favoring tunics and togas with sandals and torcs. But those recently arriving wore fashion that would be equally fitting throughout the cosmos: uniforms, button-collared shirts, dresses with overly indulgent hats. The juxtaposition was only slightly jarring. After spending so much time stranded on Amphoreus, he had grown used to their dress sense. The current mix was sight more common on worlds connected to the Silver Rail.
Was this a successful integration into the wider community, because of the Era Nova? Or was it merely just a hopeful wish temporarily made manifest? It was a pleasant thought, but he couldn't be sure that was the truth. He approached one of the natives who was giving a frown to a floating screen with a digital smile. There two triangle shapes atop the screen that were clearly meant to be feline ears, but it possessed a set of stubby little arms that hung from a small, dangling metal trunk.
"Damn ads!" the man ranted. “I swear you use the restrooms one time and you miss the whole match!”
"Pardon me," Dan Heng began.
The man turned around. “Oh more outlanders! With your get-up, I take it you're here for the Great Agon?”
"Yes," Stelle said, immediately. “What's an Agon?”
"Oh ho, I can tell you just jumped the gun and don't understand what you're getting into." He straightened his posture, national pride swelling his size. “Agons are tournaments in the gladiatorial arena, where glory and fame await. People find their fortunes here and hone their strengths.”
"And the Great Agon is just the biggest Agon," Stelle said.
“Indeed, it happens every four years. And it's a great honor. The winners even get a chance to meet the Guardian Echo of Septimont! Our current Ephor was the previous winner.”
Dan Heng placed a hand under his chin in thought. Still too soon to tell, but he had spotted similarities to the culture found in Castrum Kremnos with the emphasis on martial prowess and glory.
"And who is this Guardian Echo?" he asked.
“Arsinosa, our Lioness of Glory! Win the Great Agon and you may even receive its blessing.”
If the man had said Nikador, it'd be a point in the Era Nova theory, but it was beginning to look increasingly likely that they were whisked away to a world that only held faint similarities.
The screen turned back to a match where armored warriors and strange beasts fought together. The man's attention immediately snapped back to the match and he was already pumping his arms at the action.
"One last thing," Stelle said.
"Yeah what is it?" The man's eyes were still glued to the screen. It wouldn't be long before he ignored them entirely.
“Where are we?”
“The Village of Respite, in the Titanbone Expanse.”
Stelle turned to Dan Heng and waggled her eyebrows at the mention of Titan. It could be a fairly-sized clue. Or it could be nothing at all, a quirk of the Synesthesia Beacon finding the closest equivalent term.
Stelle wandered away with Dan Heng following.
"You thinking what I'm thinking?" She pointed up the foothills toward the city staring back down at them. “We go, we see, we conquer.”
It was her way of saying that they should join the gladiatorial tournament —this Great Agon. Despite her wording, it was probably one of the better decisions they could make. This society venerated open combat and advancing far enough would surely net them influence, currency, and knowledge. Any of which could make this impromptu Trailblazing expedition much easier on them.
“It does have the benefit of broadcasting our faces. If any of our friends are watching, they would know where to find us.”
Stelle grinned and slugged his arm playfully. “At least Sampo didn't hustle you into fighting this time.”
He sighed. “Don't remind me.”
Registration was going rather smoothly, with Stelle at the helm. She always did possess a unique array of skills, and she could just as easily run this event as participate in it. Meanwhile Dan Heng had managed to piece together a rough overview of the world they were in. He did so by paying attention to passing conversations and asking innocuous questions here and there.
They were on an island city-state called Septimont on a archipelago named Rinascita. There was another term he picked up on —Solaris— but he wasn't quite sure if it was the name of this planet or some wider continent. He had been more focused on the concept of Echoes, which seemed to dominate most discussions that didn't revolve around glory and gladiators. Echoes were those strange beasts and monsters that they gladiators fought alongside. Dan Heng observed Echoes that roamed around without any clear owners, while others seemed to come from gourd-like devices. There was a range— a spectrum— he was missing. There were also those draconic beasts Stelle fought. He saw those them among the gladiators without any trouble. How were they tamed? Stelle mentioned they didn't appear any different. The name Echoes and that "outline" Stelle mentioned were clear indicators of something.
He turned his attention back to the official behind the desk. The open air and the sounds of a wide arena were at their backs. The official was dressed differently than the gladiators, who in turn were dressed akin to Amphoreus's military. Convergent cultural evolution? It was not unthinkable for cultural traits to overlap, but he just couldn't get the notion out of his head that these similarities meant something. If they were whisked away from any place that wasn't Amphoreus, he wouldn't be focusing on this so much.
Boethia —the officer here— then asked Stelle, “What about your Echoes?”
She froze. “Hm?”
“Echoes? I'm not seeing any Terminals on you.”
Stelle smiled that sheepish smile. “Mind giving us a quick preview? We're a little… boat-lagged?”
Boethia had a questioning look, before otherwise obligated. She pulled out one of those metal gourds, looking far less elegant than some of the others he saw. A flash of light unveild a tiny little creature with a sharp, almost over-sized head that was tinged orange. Boethia looked a little embarrassed by it.
“This is my personal Terminal, which hold Reserved Echoes. I actually don't have many Echoes; my job doesn't give me much time to fight off Tacet Discords. But the Common Echoes you see out there are ones that anyone can use. I think there's some technology or system responsible for it, but I'm not well-versed in that sort of knowledge. But I know that Ragunna has this whole belief system around them that involves Imperator. Echoes are Echoes, I say, both hard-won spoils and steadfast allies.”
So… some Echoes are converted from these Tacet Discords, but not always? There seems to be a whole process that I'm yet to understand.
Stelle nodded. “I see, I see. But hypothetically, what if we didn't have Echoes? Or the ability to use them?”
"Are you two not Resonators?" she asked, now suspicious.
More terms. Could it be their term for Pathstriders? But again, the Beacon would have used that term for translation. Dan Heng took a gamble and held out a hand, letting a swirl of cloudhymn magic take shape. A small whirlpool danced in the palm of his head.
"Ah…" She squinted at the action. “Sorry, my Resonance ability is fairly weak. I can't really get a good read on its frequency, but there's your Forte clear as day. Apologies. Not like it wouldn't have stopped you from participating from any of the gladiatorial events, just this one.”
“Will there be any problems if we register without any Echoes?”
"You two are enrolling into the matches a little late, which is nothing unusual, but if you want a chance to reach the finals, then you have to apply for the special qualifier. Which means you have to have Echo partners." Her face turned sympathetic. “I know places like Ragunna restrict Terminal ownership, but there's nothing shameful about participating on the undercard ticket. Sure it's a bit of an… appetizer for the main course, but you wouldn't need any Echoes to participate in them.”
Stelle's face took on that blank sort of look. Most of the time, it was practically inscrutable. She could be deep in thought or thinking of something silly to say, but he knew her. There was a certain line she was falling back on: When you have a chance to make a choice, make one that you know you won't regret.
It was the main credo for which she lived her life by. It was sound advice, all things considered, but it also brought out a certain level of shamelessness from her. She was one of his best friends, and he would never not be embarrassed by her rummaging through trashcans and eating stuff like literal redsoil feed.
"Go big or go home." She snapped her fingers in realization. “I think I got something.”
She reached into her storage and pulled out a large coin that was roughly the size of her palm. It was not just any coin, but an Aether Coin. He didn't partake in the whole Aetherium Wars like Stelle and March, but he did watch some of the highlights of their matches. The coin worked on Aether-copying mechanics, allowing for creatures to be recorded as Aether Spirits. As he understood it, these Coins were fairly basic in comparison to Punklorde's Aether-editing capabilities.
Stelle frowned for a moment before reaching back in and pulling another coin that had a piece of paper folded around it. A small snicker escaped her. "Of course," she said to herself. Then she handed the spare to Dan Heng without looking at him. He unfolded the paper and read the message. The "ink" was not actually scribbled on the paper, instead it hovered over the page with a digital shimmer— Silver Wolf.
Yo.
The script says that you'll be needing a spare Aether Coin for your friend here.
So, I'm giving you one of mine. It's not loaded with any rare Aether Spirits, but their stats are good enough for a beginner. I also modded the Coins so they can be used outside the normal game parameters. They can actually do some proper damage now.
As soon as I can, I'll be heading over there to play this new game they got going on: Peaks of Prestige. Looking forward to play it with you. (Not part of the script, obvi)
P.S. Don't worry dragon boy. Blade's not involved in this one.
He had… complicated feelings about Stelle's relationships with the Stellaron Hunters. Them being heavily wanted criminals aside, he couldn't abide them being allies to that man— Blade. Being relentlessly hounded for the sins of a past life did not engender goodwill feelings toward them. The only consolation was that Stelle didn't seem at all close to Blade, like she was with the other Stellaron Hunters. Besides, whatever relationship she had with them didn't stop her from standing against them if need be, but it grated a little knowing that would still be part of their plan, their script. One day, things would come to a head with Blade and he didn't need any script to tell him that. He didn't consider Dan Feng's sins his own, but he accepted that he lived a life before this one. He accepted that there were consequences from that past life, but he absolutely refused to let it take anything away from his life as Dan Heng.
Dan Heng shook his head, squeezed the Coin in the palm of his hand, and looked at Stelle—how resolute she was. How grateful he was that he didn't face things alone.
"Ooh. Are you two from the New Federation? I heard they got some wicked technology!" Boethia's enthusiasm dimmed. “But this is uncleared technology. Maybe customs let this slide or didn't know what it was. We have to make sure there is no contraband Echoes inside. I'll have to get my superior officer, who is a stronger Resonator. He can surely check these coins.”
There was a sudden wariness in her stance, like they were two smugglers ready to start a fight.
Stelle flipped the Coin over to the officer. “It's no problem, at all. We're just hoping to show off something new but we understand if we can't.”
Boethia nodded her appreciation as Dan Heng surrendered his own.
"Think this is a smart idea?" he asked, as Boethia walked away.
She waved him off. “Silver Wolf has got it covered.”
He let it lie. Dan Heng didn't trust Silver Wolf, but he trusted Stelle. That was all there was to it.
The inspection went way faster than he expected; his hackles were raised when she came back. There was a look of awe and a sort of shock in the officer's eyes as she gently handed the Coins back to the two Trailblazers.
“It seems you caught the eye of the Priestess. I didn't even know she was in the area, let alone not with the Ephor.”
"That a good thing? Or are we gonna be subjected to secret tests of character?" Stelle asked.
She chuckled, a little awkwardly. “Heh… Priestess Iuno is much too heavy-handed for that. She merely said that you two needed to be given a chance to participate. No more, no less.”
Dan Heng repressed a sigh. Political entanglements already, but rare was the Trailblazing expedition that went off without a hitch. He much preferred a straightforward request instead of these runarounds, but even that wasn't a guarantee that they would be exempted from these games. For example, Aglaea had been relatively accommodating up until she used a misstep of theirs to get a better measure of them with the threat of death. The threat may have been empty and her ultimate reasoning had multifaceted layers to help everyone out in the long run, but the same outcome could have been achieved with earnest conversations and actions. But she had the excuse of being divinely afflicted with a waning humanity. It reminded him a little of the Mara, but Dan Heng knew that some people didn't need any excuse to act even worse. If he talked to this Iuno, at least he could have gotten her measure.
Still he palmed the Coin with a beaming Stelle, as Boethia gave them the current arena schedule. According to the brackets, they'd be fighting within the hour. And it'd be a gauntlet of matches, one after the other. If they wanted a chance for the finals, this was it. But he let his fellow Trailblazer's enthusiasm buoy him up, even if it didn't show on his face.
"We've got this in the bag!" Stelle declared, pumping up her fist into the air.
At first Aglaea was burning, then she was bleeding, and then finally she was drowning. Sightless eyes burst open as she thrashed around in the warm waters, She swallowed heaps of air as though she just survived a drowning. Even though murmurs of scorn and distaste started to fill her ears, she focused on herself. Her hands roamed over her chest, feeling no wound or blood. Then they laid themselves down flat over her heart— her very human and intact heart. She could feel the pulse of proper fears. Not worries or doubt, but that directionless fear of common beasts. As her humanity had waned, it was easy to assume that her inhumanity would increase. But it made her colder in some areas, quick to anger in others. It always, however, subtracted swathes of her soul.
Aglaea had stopped fearing death —pointless, painful deaths— and only feared the Flame-Chase Journey's failure. She had sacrificed herself upon that altar and prepared contingencies so that every ounce of usefulness could be wrung from that death. The fear of death didn't factor much into the equation; the fear of 'will this be enough?' did.
At this moment, she could not put a reason to this terror. She could say for certain that she did not miss this particular sensation. She let it settle even as her brain urged her lungs to swallow more air to alleviate the panic. There was no other choice but to impose calmness on herself. She was blinded for the first time in a long time, and in foreign territory to boot. She let herself sink into the warm baths, weaving golden threads all around her. Aglaea had taken it for granted: the long centuries of working her loom and the expanse web of golden threads all over Okhema.
The shape of the world began to build itself in her mind's eye, and the scornful whispers of nobles started to fill her ears. She wanted to sigh—some things never changed. She could feel the air shift around one of the threads, as someone ducked under a strand. The brush of air lightly strummed the thread, nearly imperceptible to the common eye, but it was all she needed to know that someone was coming. Someone armored, but whose posture was guarded yet lax.
"Excuse me, miss?" the armored man began, “Your Forte is distracting the other patrons.”
Aglaea dipped her head in contrition. "Apologies, the warm waters lulled me into a deep slumber. I briefly forgot where I was and had to use my threads to see." She feigned a moment of embarrassed silence. “I'm partially blind.”
The last part was bit of a white lie, but she needed some misdirection here. She twisted the threads into invisibility, their luminescence unseen by most eyes. Her golden threads would need more time before they possessed even a fraction of reach of her previous work. The beginning stages were the most vulnerable. If she was stymied now, then she would be well and truly blind.
"Oh…" Details of the armored guard started to take shape. To an outlander, perhaps, they could be mistaken as a guard of Okhema, but not to her sight. “I didn't mean to bring up your, ah, Overclocked eyes.”
Aglaea waved him off gracefully. “Worry not, I'll be taking my leave. Thank you for understanding.”
She stepped out of the waters with her chin upheld high. The water started to flee from her body and she let decorum stain her skin. Here she was, in completely unknown territory, as a stranger herself. When in Okhema, do as the Okhemans do. That was something a good number of refuges from the black tide had to learn. She suppose that it was her turn now.
Aglaea took a towel from a nearby attendant and finished off drying. She started to glide down the steps to the lower baths when she heard a dismissive voice say, “They'll just let any commoner in the baths now. They could at least learn to mind their manners.”
She paused at the noble woman's attitude. Ironic, that if she had less of her humanity, this wouldn't have bothered her simply because it didn't pertain to the Flame-Chase. But Aglaea had more humanity than she did at her end. She wasn't whole again, but there was just enough inside of her to do something inadvisable. She turned to face the older woman wearing a relatively modest headpiece.
"Someone has to balance out the rabble like you," Aglaea replied.
The woman sneered. “Do you even know who I am?”
“Of course not. You're beneath my notice.”
“How dare you! I am Domina Julia of House Silva!”
Aglaea feigned a yawn with a light touch of her hand. “Like I said, beneath my notice.”
“And who are you to besmirch my house's good name?”
“My name would mean nothing to you. Only people in the know would know the name Goldweaver. And it's plain to see, that you do not know.”
Then Aglaea walked off without giving this Domina Julia a chance to respond. Wherever she was, Aglaea had just made an unnecessary enemy but she was just… so damn bitter about these nobles. On the Flame-Chase Journey, losses were a constant. She had lost friends, allies, and her teacher piece by piece. This was to say nothing of the common folk who lost everything to the black tide. But "nobles" like Caenis or Julia only ever feared the loss of their power, their influence. She had given so much of herself for the Flame-Chase and they killed her for it.
Aglaea stepped out into the sun and let its rays wash over her. She continued to spin more invisible threads and finally felt secure enough to ponder her circumstances.
Was this the Era Nova? But weren't the Chryso Heirs supposed to become the new Titans? In truth she was rather ambivalent about it. It seemed like divinity was neither a reward or punishment; it just was. Perhaps divine duties would be lighter than the Flame Chase… until the cycle with the black tide began all over again.
She tried dwelling on this scenario, but the only real thought that came to mind was one of humor. If she was to be the new Mnestia, then it would follow that Anaxa would be the new Ceres. And she had to wonder if a whole mythology of romance would spring up between the two of them. For a blasphemer that would rather be the new Kephale, it would certainly grind his gears to be subjected to what was, essentially, divine gossip.
Aglaea cut off a bitter, if amused laugh. As aggravating as that man could be, he deserved better than the cruelty of fleeting thoughts. He may have had a colossal amount of arrogance, but he also had the drive to back it up. She was glad that the air was cleared up between them before the end, but a bout of greed seized her. As much as the two of them disagreed and debated with one another, she wanted to have those heated arguments all over again, without any of the truly dire stakes underpinning them.
She shook her head. This sudden infusion of humanity had made her forlorn and reminiscent, and she could easily drown in it. Aglaea needed to focus on these new circumstances, but she always been been at the forefront of the Flame-Chase— a spider in the center of her web.
Now she was on the sidelines, with no sense of direction. And regrets were racing to catch up with her. She picked a direction and spun more threads as she walked. She trailed along a path that was forming right before mind's eye.
And her golden threads painted a atmospheric mosaic for her, composed of a myriad of pieces that reminded her of Castrum Kremnos… somewhat. There was awe in their leader for upturning a bloody event into something more honorable; there was a scant longing for those bloodied days. It was the sort of civilization that she could see Mydei being not entirely displeased with, if this was what his people ended up becoming.
Was any of this related?
She wanted to believe that Phainon did something, that he reshaped the world so radically that it would never again be cyclical. But that train of thought brought embers of remorse. She had asked him nothing she would not have done herself. And that was part of the problem, she now saw. He may have been the best fit —the Heir without flaw— but Aglaea had been burning herself for the Flame-Chase for a thousand years, but she was mere kindling compared to Phainon. Phainon who would burn himself evermore as the sun, for the sake of others. She was so proud of the man, the warrior, and leader he shaped up to be, but she knew he would be even more lost than her.
Agleas's thoughts turned to a different theory: Cifera. She could have used the power of Trickery, somehow…
No.
No.
She shouldn't poke and prod if this was Cifera's work. The power of Trickery only worked so long as the lies were maintained… and she knew Cifera. Even without her golden threads, she could read Cifera so well. But perhaps not well enough… she still didn't quite know what she did that made Cifera stay her distance. There was a deeper reason beyond the surface explanations, but Aglaea never had a chance to figure it out. But the more she thought about it, the less it seemed like it was Cifera's work. With that thought, she could safely say that if this world indeed false, then it was not due to the demigod of Trickery. Without a destination, she continued to wander around aimlessly, spinning out more threads mostly out of habit. Perhaps it was fitting what she heard next. The reverberations trailed all the way back to her.
“These Trailblazers have taken the Agon by storm! It's not just their all-new Echoes, but the fighters themselves! It's the Astral Express Crew!”
She strode toward the source of the noise: a floating screen that crossed against her threads with vibrancy of a living being. But most of it body was a screen. It was not quite a machine person like the Antikytherans, but it felt artifical and living all at once. Even with her blindness, she could still view screens so long as there were thread being woven through. The World-Wide Web had been composed up of many of her threads.
It was delicate work she was about to do. She raised a finger, unspooling more of that golden thread. It first wrapped around the screen before slithering in. The screen which had been a blank surface beforehand lit up and she could see those magnificent Trailblazers— one of which willingly tied themselves to the fate of Amphoreus by taking up the authority of Time.
She saw them as they were in those foreign garbs and familiar weapons. Aglaea was no longer adrift and finally had a destination to strive for. Their presence here gave a strong credence to the notion that she was on a world beyond the sky. The ultimate fate of Amphoreus couldn't be on the forefront of her mind, but it was on the backlines, subconciously driving her actions. A familiar motivation. She didn't quite relax, but the motions of her soul started up in those old patterns.
She needed to make her way to the arena and Aglaea was loathe to expose her ignorance after establishing herself as a person of great renown. She spent enough time with Cifera to understand the structure of a good lie, and all it took was a small discrepancy being hammered at to unravel everything.
Lucky for her, the golden threads' ultimate purpose was to uncover the truth and what better example than architecture? All cities were built function first, form second. No matter how fantastic and fabulous it may have looked, the underlying principles remained the same. All paths had to lead to key places, no matter what they were. In this case, it was the arena. She wound her way toward the center of this city, ascending skyward as each level seemed to circle around a vast arena. The threads she was spinning were weak and would need reinforcement if she wanted anything more than the bare necessities.
But it was enough.
Right up until they slipped through the seams of the world to the one underneath. She froze. At first a deep fear that this was a fake world—a prison or simulation of sorts— enveloped her. But the threads dug deeper, showing that the world underneath was a copy of the one she was currently in. Yet it was a world in ruins, where the sun did not shine. Only a false moon with sickly, dripping clouds hung in the sky. Aglaea felt that she had been unwittingly ensnared by something far larger than anything she could currently fathom.
Then she noticed how differently her golden threads were reacting. What she had took as its normal reverberations carrying information were actually echoes. This world was made up of frequencies… and the one underneath was false, sounding out in a frequency few could hear like it was a chimera whistle. It was building up in its intensity, she could feel, until it could overtake this "real" world. What was once a harmony would be an elision until even the "real song" faded into silence, until that false song was realer than what once was.
"It seems more complications have arrived," an airy, almost raspy voice breathed out.
Aglaea whirled around, drawing her blade out of the air. This woman had managed to arrive without touching any of the threads. She curled more golden lines around the source of the noise. Except that vague shape of a woman plucked one of the threads, sending out a pulse of her own reverberation—a power resonated with the structure of the world. She felt one of her gold threads darken and die, not even being cut away but rather withering away in its unraveling.
"How fascinating… Goldweaver, was it?" the newcomer said. She plucked a floating strand of red in the air, seemingly reading it as sure as Aglaea could. “But that's only your title, not your name, correct?”
Aglaea could see this person now: a young woman in a red dress and a bandage covering one eye, holding a baton tipped off with a strange red flower.
“You have me at a disadvantage, miss…?”
"I am Phrolova." A brief pause. “An Overseer, of the Fractsidus.”
Longer pause.
Then a tilt of the head, a confirmation of something. This Phrolova had gleamed more information from Aglaea could from her. But that was to be expected. Phrolova was standing on up high upon on a mountain that Aglaea had yet to climb. Suddenly she felt a pang of sympathy and admiration for the Trailblazers, who willingly venture into new worlds lacking complete information. They purposefully put themselves in a position that started them at a disadvantage and worked to bridge that gap tirelessly.
"Let us rectify the gap in our knowledge." She raised a hand and lightly rotated her wrist, golden threads wrapping around five of her fingers. “Question for a question.”
Phrolova stared at her own hand, golden threads wrapped around the fingers. She smiled and started waving that baton through the air, conducting a silent symphony.
"Ah, but I'll start first." The strand connecting their pinkie fingers darkened to a red, and they were plunged into another world. But this one was smaller, more self-contained than the larger falsehood. This world was filled with more of those strange red flowers, but without more of her threads, Aglaea could see no more than a few feet around them. "There is something you're standing on. A sort of road, one of many, that has breached Solaris-3. Tell me… what are they?"