“It is fascinating how effective punishments based around social rejection can be with Sylvans!”

“Yes, Sasarai.”

“I developed an experimental study you see, dividing up a small population into two groups.”

“I am aware of basic methodology Sasarai.”

“Of course you are Dyrena, but you see for the first group I made sure that any misdeeds were met with stern corporal punishments, as I’d intended to utilize originally, and for the second group, I employed those same corporal punishments!”

“That seems rather…”

“On the offenders family members!”

“…in character. Yes, that comes as no surprise at all I suppose.”

“Can you imagine the results.”

“Likely better than you can.”

“Why the second group showed a nineteen percent reduction is doctrinal violations after a single week! This is so wonderful.”

“It is for someone I suppose.”

“I’d had a factor in my population graphs to account for all of the ones I was going to have to sacrifice as an example to keep the others in line. Or rather that the divine tree would exact retribution on. With this I can work with a smaller, more elite population and they’ll be even stricter about adhering to doctrine than planned! Oh thank you so much for the insight into working within the Sylvan social constraints, Dyrena. This is going to yield such a rich bounty!”

“Don’t mention it. Literally. I don’t want my name spoken of in relation to this ‘discovery’ at all.”

– High Accessor Dyrena gaining an understanding that she may have overestimated the intelligence of her co-conspirators.

I’d never been present when a new Blessed was chosen by their deity, arguably not even when I was, since Draconia choosing me and my be aware of that fact were separate by a span measured in years. With Fiddler Jast though it was hard to miss the transition from ‘very much a dying Goblin’ to ‘Blessed of Small Problems’. That the sheer force of his investiture lifted him a good two feet into the air as his flesh reknit and and his bones all snapped back into their proper place was a tiny bit of a give away from the rest of the people in the car too.

“Woah!” Kam said, ever the master of eloquence and clarity.

To be fair to him, my own contribution to the ‘conversation’ was mute silence at first.

Was it like this with me, ever? I asked, sharing my thoughts only with Draconia.

For me? No. Not at all. I rejoiced quite a lot more when you appeared. From how Draconia spoke I was sure she was being serious but I couldn’t imagine how that would be true.

I don’t recall floating, I said.

That came later, Draconia said. In your case, you weren’t at death’s door nor had you been unimaginably imprisoned for the better part of two centuries. I had slightly more cause to rejoice than you did, you see.

And I did. All the years I called her my demon and she didn’t hate me because I had been freedom for her and even if she’d been a demon, she’s been MY demon.

“Thank you,” Fiddler said, or was it Fiddler and Polsguls? “We owe you…”

“Nothing,” I said before an inadvisable promise was made. Anything they owed me would be mine and owning someone’s promise would give me ownership over a piece of them. I’d pushed on that line a lot farther than I was comfortable with to save my family. I was not about claim dominion over a stranger who’d been in no position to refuse what I’d given to him.

No. We do…Polsfuls tried to put in directly, but Draconia shut him down like I had.

Small Problems, it is we who owe you. This offering of a Blessed cannot cover the loss of your peoples, but let is be a first step towards a renewed friendship.

As you would have it Guardian and Treasure, and I felt Polsgul’s presence withdraw to the normal intensity of the divine with the other Blessed.

“Hey, if you can do that again, we got a lot more injured here still,” Kam said.

True to his word, he was applying what first aid he could to a Crowkin whose left wing had been broken.

“I’m okay, this won’t kill me,” Iskil, the Crowkin said. “Help the others.”

“We will,” Fiddler and I said in unintended unison.

I looked to him for confirmation that he was capable of helping the others and he nodded.

“Not with serious wounds, but leave the little stuff to me,” he said.

‘Little’ in this case seemed to mean ‘not within minutes of dying’ and since there’d been a lot of incidental injuries as the assassins tore through the car, that meant there was plenty to keep him busy.

My skills on the other hand were needed for the people who were near death, and, unfortunately, they were not enough.

At least not on my own.

For these, we will need Diyas, Draconia said. She holds the Domain of Healers. You have one of her fragments, call on it if you can.

Calling on Diyas was both either and harder the Polsguls had been. Her power was in my hands before I fully thought about – because I’d followed her path as well, and bore a mundane version of her blessing already in my gifts.

With a need in front of us, the power of the God of Healers was all too happy to send grace coursing through me and help me manipulate it into the forms the injured needed.

I’m sure with each person I healed, there were sighs of relief and a chorus of appreciation, but I heard none of it. Draconia had stood aside to allow Diyas to work through me and my mind swam with a deeper understanding of bodies and their functions. With each person we healed I saw a river of cells, each little one marching around in a cycle of life, carrying every precious things the body needed. I felt issues, blockages, cuts and breaks and understood the ones we could leave for the body to heal itself and which would need a miracle to return to a state where the whole system wouldn’t collapse.

Everyone’s biology was so different, and yet to Diyas we were all barely noticeable variations on the same core template. Even the dead held lessons, though they lay beyond my or Diyas’ ability to restore.

I’m not sure how much time I spent in that strange, twilight state of knowing everything and being nearly divorced from the material world, but when it came to an end it came to an abrupt one.

The domain of healing I’d been wrapping within was yanked away from me, by someone with a greater claim. With Polsguls, I could have fought to prevent the Fiddler’s Blessing, stating my claim and backing it with Draconia’s power, but not so with Diyas.

Someone was already the Blessed of Healing and, while they had done me the courtesy of allowing me to call on Diyas for the injured and the dying around me, once that need was passed, theirs exerted itself.

I wished I could have communicated with them, but while I could feel their strength and purpose in the instant they called Diya’s fragment back to join the other fragments they held, where they were and even who they were was impossible to tell.

“You did good work there but I’m betting you’re…” Theia started to say only to interrupt herself so she could catch me as a toppled over, “…a bit of hand and some food.”

It was ridiculous. I hadn’t been using my own strength. Diyas had done as the real work. Despite that however, I was very definitely not capable of walking or even standing upright on my own. 

I felt consciousness yearning to slip away and my thoughts grew a trifle fuzzy.

Just like Theia.

Mmm.

Warm fuzzy thoughts against a warm fuzzy girl.

I felt my head nod forward and my knees buckle slightly.

“Need a hand? Be easier to carry her together,” Kam said, putting my other arm around his shoulder so I could dangle between the two of them.

“Probably a good idea. I’d hate to just drop her if more assassins show up,” Theia said, in a tone that told me she would probably drop me, kill all of them and still catch me before my head bonked on the floor.

“We should adjourn to my study,” Helgon said, “Or one of them at any rate. We have quite a few more guests than I’ve been used to entertaining lately.”

Helgon was here?

And we weren’t moving anymore?

I think I might have micro-napped for a moment or two.

But where were my parents?

“I’ve sent them on to their own rooms,” Helgon said. “There are some people they need to speak with.”

People? Who? They didn’t know anyone on the train. They couldn’t. 

“Is she going to be okay?” Kam asked. I wondered for a moment why he was concerned about my mother. Had she been hurt when I wasn’t looking?

Despite my fatigue though, a moment later I figured out that he was talking about me.

“I’m fine,” I said, shaking my head to throw away the fatigue that seemed to be piling up on me.

“No you’re not,” Theia said. “You healed thirty seven people without a break.”

“That wasn’t me,” I said. “It was Diyas.”

“Yeah. Using your body,” Theia said. “That kind of thing doesn’t come free.”

“I am honestly surprised you are as undamaged as you seem to be, though I suspect Diyas’s fragment wouldn’t have pushed you to the point of actual injury as that’s contrary to her role,” Helgon said.

“I’m fine. I’m used to healing. I was the best in my class,” I said.

“You were fourth, and you never healed the things you healed back there,” Kam said.

“We all tied for first,” I insisted, as though that was an important distinction, when he was, in fact correct. “I’m fine. What’s up with mother and father?”

“You’re fine? Okay you can walk on your own then right?”

Of course I could. 

That I was hanging helplessly on Theia a moment later as Kam ducked out from under my arm did not mean that he was right and I was wrong.

“One of the restoration pods then I should think,” Helgon said as Kam took my arm and half my weight from a smirking Theia.

“What’s a restoration pod?” I asked, unsure if I should be dreading what awaited me or welcoming it.

“An improved form of bedding,” Helgon said. “Newly refurbished too. I suppose ‘two’ isn’t a plethora of guests too exhausted to stand, but it’s a trend I am prepared for! Or rather, prepared for after the first one.”

“Don’t we need to talk about stuff? Sasarai stuff?” I asked, my fatigue only growing the farther I had to walk.

“We will,” Theia said. “We made out a lot better than any of us ever dreamed, so there’s a whole bunch of plans we need to review and reconsider. Most of them have nothing to do with the Garden or Sasarai though. Don’t worry, we’ll leave all that till you’re conscious again.”

Also, I will attend to the discussion while you recover, Draconia said, Rest in comfort and peace for now.

“Okay,” I said. “But what about my mother and father.”

“They’ll be here when you wake up,” Kam said. “You know them, they’re not going to want to go anywhere until they hear everything about everything.”

I heard him.

And I believed him.

But something told me he wasn’t right.

They were mine. I’d claimed them. That meant I could reach out and feel where they were, and how they were doing. I didn’t want to do that uninvited, but despite the fatigue, I had to know. I had to feel that they were okay. I had to…

They weren’t there.

They hadn’t died. They hadn’t been taken.

They just weren’t mine anymore.

They’d cast me out.

“But did you need to make such a mess Sasarai, I mean we are going to be weeks getting this conference room to a point where it’s not mistaken as an abattoir.”

“I’m sorry Helgon, but what exactly would be the point of showing mercy towards those who might have exposed us? Do you think if the slightest hint of what we have planned were to reach divine ears, we would fare any better than this?”

“Well of course we would. Should one deity or another hear of our scheme we’d be reduced to ashes in an instant. Much cleaner than this. I mean, come now, there are splatter stains above the drapes. That’s simply needless.”

“Far from it. These were holy adherents to twelve different faiths. Their durability and regenerative capacity had to be accounted for.”

“Sasarai, there are miracles of healing, there are contingency spells, and there are post-mortem revivification techniques. Not a single one of those requires the dissociation of every bodily cell from every other one to counteract. I mean, come now, a single suppression spell and you could have silenced them all with a cantrip. We’re supposed to be better than…whatever this was.”

“It’s because we are better than they are that this is permissible. Perhaps you’re correct and perhaps you’re not. The important thing is that it is done and that it was done decisively.”

“Perhaps in the future we might attempt to do things correctly as well.”

– the moment when High Accessor Sasarai decided he was going to personally ensure High Accessor Helgon did not enjoy divine status a moment longer than necessary.

We could have hidden. Theia was the Blessed of Night, and Umbrielle was right there with us, giving Theia and the rest of us her full attention.

Even worse for the assassins that Sasarai had sent after us, we had Kalkit with us.

Do you know what assassins rely on? I hadn’t ever thought about, mostly because I thought assassins were a relic of the world that had fallen. We’d learned about them in history as an example of how duplicitous the ancient world’s nations had been. That Sasarai could conjure up a squad of them on command should have come as a surprise, it was decidedly out of character for the First Tender and contrary to every bit of doctrine he’d invented for us. Really though, he’d lost the ability to surprise me the moment I’d understand who Draconia really was.

And that’s why the assassins were doomed the moment they stepped on the train. What they needed most was surprise. Even if Sasarai had given them enough power to simply overwhelm us, a straightforward attack would have been disastrous for him.

Best case, they killed us and none of us got away. The chance that the fight of that magnitude would have escape the notice of the other Neoterics was nonexistent. The fact that I’d escaped from the garden as a roaring dragon wasn’t exactly something that was easy to hide either, but the Draconia, Umbrielle and Helgon seemed to think that the impromptu festival Sasarai had thrown would leave the other Neoterics to chalk up the light show as ‘Sasarai being a weirdo’, or him testing out a new source of faith generation as he’d done many times in the past.

One unexplained oddity wasn’t going to be enough for them to risk moving on, two on the other hand, or one display that he was absolutely not in control any longer? They’d fall all over themselves to claim his power before anyone else could.

The assassins Sasarai sent weren’t going to meet a ‘best case’ scenario (from their perspective though) because Sasarai didn’t know we had a Kalkit and trying to ambush a Blessed of Secrets was the definition of a catastrophically bad idea.

With less than half a minute to plan we didn’t have time for to belabour over elaborate schemes, but with the Blessed of Battle to lead us and forewarning we didn’t exactly need complicated plans either.

The first assassin to strike used a potent paralysis gas as their weapon of choice.

It was a smart move. Lyostine Gas was a readily produced byproduct of the aetheric lighting common in both the Garden and the Low City. Gathering a concentration of it was challenging since there wasn’t much released during a day of manufacturing, but its presence wouldn’t have been noticed since it was odorless and invisible.

Had the gas worked as intended, I would have been paralyzed before I was aware anything was wrong, with Theia likely joining me in helplessness. I don’t think, with her mechanical parts, Xalaria would have been as effected, but since I wasn’t keen on either asking Xalarai to fight alone, or being paralyzed in general, I called on my gift with the winds and blew the gas directly back out of the room.

One assassin down, temporarily, twenty three more to go.

I caught the scent of the other assassins thanks to Draconia’s aid, and have to admit to being more than a little surprised that there were so many of them.  Sasarai, it seemed, was not interested in risking undercommitting his forces to the effort.

The next assassin dropped down from the shadow above my seat, an obsidian blade aimed directly at my heart.

Oddly, that was not the best kill-shot he could have tried for. Sasarai knew the kind of healing gifts I had. If he’d been interested in killing me (and never recovering his divine fragments) he would have instructed them to strike for my brain (which would have been a nice confirmation that I had one given how much I’d seemingly lost my mind with my recent decisions).

Had the assassin gone for a heart strike a day or so earlier, he would have enjoyed a great deal more success. My options for survival would have been ‘have Theia knock him away first’ or ‘Xalaria steps in and block the blow for me’. 

The poor assassin was just a little late for any of that however. As he descended, I looked up and locked my gaze onto his. He was a Sylvan. And a demon, I think. Or at least a pretty nasty ancestor of some kind. What he wasn’t however was used to a Sylvan staring back at him with draconic eyes blazing with glee.

The obsidian blade shattering on my chest probably also came as a surprise.

I mean, when Draconia said she could protect me? Yeah. She was not kidding.

The clawed hand that caught the assassin by the throat and slammed him to the ground wasn’t something he saw coming either, and while it was technically my hand, its strength was very definitely not my own.

The fact that the assassin was battered into unconsciousness on the floor of the car with one sharp move, but not driven through the floor of the train and tossed under the wheels was a shown of supreme restraint on Draconia’s part.

Sure, Xalaria had said “capture them, no killing” but she wasn’t technically the boss of any of us.

That she had a good point was more compelling though, even for someone with Draconia’s level of long suppressed rage. Dead assassins weren’t a tool we could use. Living ones might be useful in convincing Sasarai to turn his thoughts and prayers towards hoping we’d leave him alone.

I wasn’t going to of course, but he didn’t have a Kalkit to tell him that.

Elsewhere in the train car, the others were dealing with the next waves of assassins in the own manner. Xalaria hadn’t bothered to draw a weapon at all. When two assassins materialized in front and behind her, she simply used one to bludgeon the other one. I heard bones crack, but neither one burst like a balloon so I suspected she was holding back too.

Kalkit avoided the assassins that were targeting them via the expedient of hopping on Fulgrox’s shoulder and letting the Blessed of the Harvest convince the assassins that approaching someone that large who was wielding threshing knife was, perhaps not the wisest move they could choose to make.

Theia took the simpler approach of simply not being there. The assassins who appeared in the room knew where she’d been but the strike at someone sitting in her seat did nothing more than ruin the upholstery of the seat back.

That assassin clutched his throat, trying thrash to freedom only to fall limp a few seconds later. We Sylvan consider ourselves kin to the Holy Tree and therefor believe that we grow like plants. We do however require blood, especially that it be delivered to our brains, and unlike a plant if that flow is stopped for even a brief moment, we tend to have issues remaining conscious.

Another assassin lunged out of nowhere, slashing at the spot where Theia had to have been holding the first assassin but a threshing knife pinned him arm through the bicep to the wall. 

It’s not like we were incapable of working together after all.

Another few tried to rush me at once, one appearing mid-leap to knock me through the curtained windows of the train. Theia stopped that one, and Fulgrox caught the next one, smashing him into an assassin he had splayed over a seat back.

The assassin’s strategy wasn’t the most terrible one they could have though and the third one to try found the opening the other two had missed. 

I was tempted to bite him. There was a good chance I could do so without fatal consequences, but Draconia suggested a different course of action.

So I let him knock me off the train.

Like I said, it wasn’t the worst possible strategy for the assassins, since it separated me from the other and let two more pile on as we crashed through the window.

They had made one small mistake though.

The train ran underground through a series of tunnels Helgon had arranged to create to connect several of the cities. Helgon hadn’t bothered digging through solid earth the whole distance though. To the greatest extent possible he’d made use of the nature caverns and pre-existing underground dwelling from before the Sunfall. That meant that when I let the assassins throw me off the train, I’d done so while we were passing through an old dwarven city-cavern the size of the Garden.

Which meant I could fly.

Being outside of the train also freed me in one other way, which I promptly displayed to them.

Breathing fire, as it turns out, is somewhat harder to deliver restrained blows with than threshing knives and unarmed attacks.

To my credit, one did survive!

I mean, they were a bit roasted. But, you know, conjured and enfleshed ancestor spirit. Kinda dead to start with? 

I chalked the drifting ashes of the other two up to at least not leaving mess for anyone else to clean up and soared back into through the broken window.

Unsurprisingly, there were twenty one disabled and/or unconscious assassins to which I add the final one I’d had to catch.

“We won’t have long to question them before Sasarai notices that they’ve been captured,” Xalaria said.

“You will have no time at all,” one of the assassins said, rising to his feet like his limbs were being pulled by invisible strings.

“Sasarai! How lovely to see you again my old comrade,” Helgon said, waving from his seat. “How is that perfectly secret vault working out for you?”

“I knew we should have razzed that city of yours to the ground,” Sasarai hissed from the assassin’s lips.

“Oh, you’re quite welcome to try. Do you know how many defenses are simply going to waste? I mean, please, do try. I’ve been, well I suppose not ‘dying’ to try out some new inventions, but you take my meaning.”

“I believe I do,” Sasarai said. “Which is why this group will not be allowed to reach your domain. Girl, thief, return to me now.”

I took a step forward until my brain caught up with the reflexive obedience that had been drilled into me.

“No.” It was unbelievably hard to say that. For all that I hated him, for all that I hated what he’d done, giving “The First Tender” a simple ‘no’ was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. “Yeah, no, not until I’m ready.”

“That was not a request,” Sasarai said. “Return now or your family’s will feed the roots.”

Far away, I could feel the truth of that. Kam’s panic. My mother’s confusion. My father’s terror. Sasarai was not bargaining and he would not hesitate.

“Treasure house? Why would I need a house for my treasure? I intend to fill my entire city with my treasures!”

“While we shall, of course, be preserving all of things which are dear to us, surely Helgon you must agree that some treasures will be  of a quality superior to all others.”

“Nonsense Sasarai. Any invention, any treatise, any idea whatsoever may lead me to new found wonders and understanding. I can no more prioritize my experiments than a father could choose a favorite child.”

“And should someone wish to steal away one of your children? How will you defend your precious things then if you make no arrangement for their defenses?”

“I feel that one of us is not entirely clear on the aims of our endeavor. It is my understanding that with the transfer of grace away from the conceptual maniforms which we nominally are bound to and serve beneath, we shall be gaining control of a concentration of force which will place us atop the peak of this world’s reality.”

“Yes. We shall be the gods of the new world.”

“Then I fail to see why that alone would not be sufficient protection from petty burglary?”

“Is the power of the gods sufficient to dissuade us from our current course?”

“No. Though to be fair, we are quite likely to fail spectacularly.”

“You’ve been listening to Dyrena too much.”

“She’s remarkably insightful. I don’t know why people have difficulty seeing that.”

“Oh. We don’t. We know exactly how dangerous Dyrena can be.”

“Indeed. It’s one of the few things that gives me hope our scheme will only backfire catastrophically.”

“I will never understand you Helgon.”

“Oh, I’m quite easy to understand Sasarai. I simply don’t see the point is setting up an incredibly well guarded vault, burying it under the repository of my power, filling it with stolen god bits, and then hoping everyone will simply forget its there and never bother me. Let anyone come for what is mine I say. The damn stuff is dangerous enough when I try to handle it, if they can survive, I might learn something. That let’s me not worry at all about the stories people might tell of a secret stash of wonders.”

– High Accessor’s Helgon and Sasarai’s disagreement which lead to the subsequent murder of the Silent Archives construction crew in an effort to prevent stories of its existence from spreading.

So, we were dead. I’d known that was what would happen the moment I tossed my old life aside. Learning that the only hope the First Tender had to survive was to kill us though, brought into sharp focus the fact that the accumulated power of several gods was about to be brought to bear on ending my life.

“It’s not all that bad,” Helgon said. “Take it from someone who’s dead, it’s an interesting sort of existence in its own way.”

“No offense, but I don’t think the rest of us get to be whatever is it you are,” Theia said.

“Of course not. You’ll be whoever it is you are without the burdens of the life you have now. No one else could be me. That’d be absurd. Who would I be then?”

“I think what she means is that when normal people die, they’re just gone. No one gets to linger on like you seem to be able to.” I don’t know what I was translating an idea that everyone probably already understood. Maybe because it felt good to reach for whatever shreds of clarity I could.

“Do…do you think your “normal people’?” Helgon asked.

“Blessed don’t hang around either,” Theia said. “We’re not immortal.”

“Of course not, you can’t be, that would defeat the whole purpose of the blessing.” Helgon was looking back and forth between the two of us, with side glances at the other Blessed as though we were children who no one had ever given even the most basic of doctrinal education.

“Before we get into that, we need to form our plans,” Xalaria said. “Sasarai will be already be moving against us. It won’t take him long to find the rail line or to follow it to us. Helgon, how defensible is your citadel.”

“Not at all,” Helgon said. “Please note as a reference that my fellow Neoterics had no trouble in waging their assault on me when they decided it was time to reduce our number by one more.”

“I’m not speaking about holding out against the eight remaining Neoterics. I’m only concerned about Sasarai and the forces he can send at us,” Xalarai said.

“Oh, you needn’t worry about him,” Helgon said. “Not at the moment at least.”

“You believe he will hesitate? About something this critical to his continued existence?” Xalaria asked, her expression shouting how idiotic a course of action that would be.

“Sasarai does not know who he’s dealing with, but he’ll be able to imagine a great deal,” Helgon said. “He’ll know for example that it had to be a Blessed of Night who stole his divine fragments – kudos on that young lady,” he nodded towards Theia, who shook her head.

“Wasn’t me. I couldn’t have taken more than two of them without drawing attention before I got out of the city,” she said, gesturing over to me.

“Yes. That’s what earns you the kudos,” Helgon said. “You see, your presence there will have left traces Sasarai can detect. He’ll know a Blessed of Night was there in his silly little vault. But he will also know the limits of what a Blessed of Night can do. For you to abscond with all of his fragments you would need to be old. Older than he is in point of fact.”

“Blessed don’t live that long, do they?” Theia asked.

“If they were normal people they certainly couldn’t.” The sparkle in Helgon’s ghostly eyes had to be simple mirth, not some hidden knowledge. “That all on its own will give Sasarai pause. A Blessed of Night that old is impossible. We would have sensed someone like that’s presence. Any of the Neoterics would be sure of that. Or rather we would be sure if it was the Blessed of anyone except for Night. With what Night has done for this world, our understanding of her capabilities has been, shall we say broadened.”

“He’s going to be paralyzed,” I said, knowing the fear that had to be creeping through the First Tenders heart.

“Yes. Exactly. Imagine discovering after centuries of being secure in your omnipotence that there was someone you couldn’t see and couldn’t predict who finally decided to move against you.”

“That will make him unpredictable. He may lash out in any direction,” Xalaria said.

“No,” I said, daring to contradict the God of Battle only because I felt like I’d spent a lifetime understanding where Sasarai was in that moment. “He can’t lash out at all. The other Neoterics? Remember? He’s in the worst possible state right now because he still has hold of everything he ever wanted but one wrong move and he’ll lose it all. He needs to keep things exactly as they are, any slip up and over the wall he’ll go.”

“Over the wall?” Fulgrox asked.

“Sorry, personal metaphor,” I said. “If he lets on what’s happened, or even hints at it too much, the other Neoterics annihilate him.  If he leaves the Garden, that would be screaming something was wrong. If he sends a troops out, that screams it too. He needs to at us without using any of his power to do so.”

“Not us,” Theia said. “You. I mean, sure he definitely wants to kill me too, but you’re the one who has all his fragments. If I get captured it’s no big deal to anyone but me. If you get captured though…”

“If Jilya is captured and she can be made to tell him where the fragments are, then all of this will be for nothing,” Xalaria said.

“That’s something I’m not sure I follow,” Fulgrox said. “You said you took all the divine fragments, but where did you hide them? I mean, you were still in Sasarai’s domain then right? What’s to stop him from just finding their hiding spot and writing you off  as something to deal with later?”

“They’re not in the Garden anymore,” I said. “They’re in me. They’re mine.”

“So, you swallowed them?” Folgrox asked.

I couldn’t fault him. I’d claimed them and tucked them away into my hoard as an almost reflexive action, with very little conscious awareness of how I was doing what I was, only that I needed to do it and so it happened.

“Not swallowed,” Helgon said. “They’re stored, I believe, in Jilya’s conceptual realm.”

“Her…what?” Fulgrox asked.

“It would take eleven years of coursework to properly explain, or perhaps only six in your case, since you seem to have solid grasp of several fundamentals already. The simple, and inaccurate, explanation is that the conceptual plane the gods formerly resided on is not an external dimension to the world. Within each of us, there is a conceptual realm.”

“Like a mindscape?” Theia asked.

“Yes, and absolutely no.” As an instructor Helgon was about as useful as many of the ones I’d studied under so I did what I always did; shrugged and kept listening. “The conceptual realm isn’t our thoughts and daydreams. Those are a separate thing. Think of it more like the projection of who and what you are into a dimension of information. That’s more or less backward from what’s happening, but as I said, this is the simple version.”

“And this conceptual space is somewhere real or just imaginary?” Xalaria ask, revealing that she was as lost as I was.

“Yes,” Helgon answered, which I would have punched him for, but, you know, ghost.

“I think the important thing is that Sasarai can’t just cut her open and pull the fragments out, right?” Fulgrox asked.

“Exactly. In fact, cutting her open would rather ruin his chances of his ever getting them back at all.” Helgon seemed delighted that Fulgrox had followed his explanation.

“What would happen if he cut her open anyways?” Theia asked.

“I expect she would die,” Helgon said.

“And the fragments?” Xalaria asked, apparently unconcerned by that prospect.

“They would drift through the remains of her conceptual space I imagine. In time, when someone synchronized enough with either who Jilya had been or was ripe to receive a blessing the divine fragments would return to the world through them.”

“And Sasarai would never be able to predict when or to whom that would happen, would he?” Xalarai asked.

“You’re not killing Jilya,” Theia said. She was joking. Mostly. I think.

“Of course not,” Xalarai said. “But it’s an option she will want to be aware of.”

“Thanks, but I’ve spent a lot of effort surviving this long. I don’t think I want to hand Sasarai that particular victory over me, even if it would be a hollow one for him.”

“Even distasteful options are valuable to be aware of,” Xalaria said. “There are fates far worse than death, and circumstances where victory may already be lost but actions yet remain to us.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, planning to keep it in my mind as far away as conceivably possible from any plans I was going to put together.

“It sounds like we have some time to work out what we’re going to do then?” Theia said.

“We don’t,”  Kalkit said. “There are assassins on the train. They’ll be here in twenty seconds.”

We all stared at Kalkit.

Xalarai was on her feet first, followed almost instantly by Theia.

I, on the other hand, reacted with the stunned, motionless silence that I’d spent years practicing.

Don’t worry. We’re going to be fine.

That was too little to go on for me to relax, except when your god explicitly tells you that you’ll be okay, it turns out to be a lot easier to relax than I’d expected. I even let a little smile play across my lips as I felt Draconia’s power flowing into my limbs.

I’d never been much of a fighter.

That was not true of her though.

“They say that the true strength of a person lies in the friends they hold dear and who will support them in their hour of need. Do we have any of those Dyrena?”

“Why we have each other do we not my dear Helgon? All twelves of us, united in common purpose, daring to dream the undreamable that we may have our heart’s desires, and destined to rule over the world as a council of wise and harmonious elders to lead the people into a brighter tomorrow.”

“While that is an answer, I feel as though I need to restate my question.”

– High Accessor’s Helgon and Dyrena refusing to acknowledge that they’ve both acknowledged that they’re doomed.

What was worse than the devil you knew? The devil you didn’t. I’d heard that saying as a kid but though it was irrelevant. All the devils were dead after all.

Then I learned what the First Tender was.

As the “train” hurtled through (hopefully) barren tunnels and brought me ever closer to a devil I’d never heard of the day before, I found I was oddly free of panic. Largely I think that was because the devil I didn’t know had arranged to get me away from the the devil who knew me all too well.

“Are we far away enough that we can talk freely?” Fulgrox asked. He was seated next to me since he needed a bit more than one seat and I needed a bit less.

“Yes, though Helgon can hear us,” Kalkit said.

“I can speak with you as well, if you like?” a ghostly person appeared in the aisle between the seats we’d chosen.

I assumed they were using a simple projection spell like the First Tender used on holy days when he needed to speak to all of the assemblies at once. The more I looked at him though the more the expanded senses Draconia blessed me with told me that, no, he wasn’t a projection, he was literally a ghost.

“Take a seat,” Xalaria said. “This will save us from having this conversation twice.”

“I’ve never found that I’m able to have the same conversation twice,” Helgon said. “Especially not with new people. Hello my dear, you must be one of Sasaria’s special people?”

“That’s what he always told us, but he also said we were the only people left in the world, so I’m not sure how special we really were to him,” I said. I don’t know why I wanted to dispel the notion that I was anything important. Maybe it was just that I didn’t want to be anyone important because of my connection to a hateful jerk like Sasarai “the First Tender”.

“If you weren’t before, you are now,” Xalaria said. “You know what you carry already do you not?”

“Not what, who,” I said. Demon or no, Draconia had never been a ‘what’ to me.

“Yes, a good bond there, and an old one too,” Helgon said, eyeing me with a dissecting gaze. “How ever did you escape the notice of my old…well calling him a friend would be a stretch, we never liked each other much at all as I recall, let’s say coworker, yes how did you escape my old coworker Sasarai’s notice as long as you did? I thought he was at least vaguely observant. Most of the others were.”

“Wait, what do you mean ‘escaped his notice’? Didn’t you gain your blessing today?” Fulgrox asked.

“In a sense, I supposed I did?” I certainly hadn’t treated my relationship with Draconia as a blessing the whole rest of the time we’d been together.

Perhaps not, but you kept the both of us safe, do you’ll notice I’m not complaining.

“Which is it.” Xalaria didn’t strike me as the sort of who appreciated ambiguity, even when it was more accurate than the simple response her question demanded.

“Jilya had her blessing when I found her,” Theia said, taking the burden of answering and explaining off my shoulders. “People seem to be pretty locked down there though from what I saw, so I don’t think she had any cause to use it before I showed up and messed up her day.”

Freed me more like it. I didn’t share that with anyone but Theia caught me eye and gave a small nod of understanding.

“And how did you come by that blessing?” Helgon asked. “I expect Sasarai was guarding his fragments rather tightly.”

“He’d hidden them in a shrine deep below his tree,” Theia said. “Jilya knew how to get there.”

“I stumbled into it when I was a kid,” I said. “There was a small maintenance tunnel that went to it that had been sealed off. But the seals were, uh, kind of weak. And I was curious.”

“So you, what? Wandered into the most important room in a Neoterics entire domain and spirited one of his legendarily rare divine fragments away without him noticing?” It wasn’t that Xalaria didn’t believe me, it was that when she put it like that even I found my story a little lacking.

She had a little help, Draconia said. And she didn’t spirit me away.

“But if she didn’t have your fragment, then how…?” Fulgrox tried to ask.

How did she use my gifts? Easily. She didn’t, Draconia’s answer seemed to make even less sense to them than mine had.

“But, how?” Fulgrox asked. “Being Blessed isn’t a thing you can just turn off.”

“You can’t,” Kalkit said. “But there are means to hide it.”

“Really?” Helgon drew the word out into at least three syllables. “Oh, oh that’s just perfect.”

It was weird to see a ghost convulsing with laughter and I wasn’t the only one who thought so.

“What am I missing here?” Theia asked.

“I believe our friend is amused by the fact that the theology Sasarai inflicted on Jilya was directly responsible for his inability to detect what she had done,” Kalkit said.

“And, oh it’s so much better than that,” Helgon said, recovering partially from his laughter. “She never would have been able to truly rescue the divine fragments if she hadn’t formed so long standing a bond with her god. Sasarai not only precipitated his own downfall, his grand little ‘perfect society’ made a perfect incubator for it as well.”

“That’s a stroke of good fortune for us all then,” Xalaria said before a puzzled look crossed her face. “Wait, divine fragments? You left other Blessed behind?”

“Nope. Not a one,” Theia said.

“Then what…?” Xalaria looked from Theia to me and back to Theia.

“You should be the one to tell them,” Theia said with a small wave of her hand towards me.

“I’m curious how the ghost knows?” I said, disturbed by the idea that my hoard might not be as hidden as I’d thought it was.

“Deduction, nothing more,” Helgon said. “When you know someone as long as I’ve known Sasarai, you can tell a lot about their life by the little things they do.”

“Little things like?” I asked, sensing the understatement in what Helgon was saying.

“He’s throwing a festival. Quite a big one. Fireworks, light shows, quite the pageant.” Helgon wore a delighted smile but for a moment I couldn’t understand any of what he was saying.

What did the First Tender have to celebrate?

Why wasn’t he raging?

I’d stolen a huge amount of power from him, he should have been livid beyond words.

If I was him I would have…

Oh.

I would have hidden everything that had happened.

I would have done my utmost to make sure no one could guess that anything meaningful had changed at all.

I would have been so afraid that the people around me would destroy me the moment they senses my weakness that I would have projected as much normalcy as I possible could have.

I had hidden everything, I had kept people from guessing the changes in me, and I’d projected perfect normalcy. I had to laugh too. At last I had proof that I was the Child of the Garden than I had always wished to be, and of course it came after I understood what a terrible fate that was.

“You understand! So delightful!” Helgon said.

“Understand what?” Fulgrox asked.

“He’s hiding,” I said. “He’s desperately scared and so he’s hiding what happened behind as much pomp and ceremony as he can throw at it.”

“I’m pretty sure he can have whatever parades and parties he want and no one is going to forget that they saw a dragon set their precious tree on fire,” Theia said.

“They won’t forget. But they will believe. Whatever story he comes up with. No matter how ridiculous it is. All he has to do is feed them something to explain what they saw and that will become the only truth they can live with.” The anger I felt at that wasn’t new. I’d stuff it down so many times, told myself that it was ‘the evil of my doubt chewing away at the virtue of my faith’, and I’d believed it, or forced myself to believe it no matter how painfully it had twisted my sense of who I was.

“That seems like an awful lot of worry for losing a divine fragment, even a powerful one,” Fulgrox said. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just not make a big deal out of it?”

“Hard not to make a big deal out of everyone seeing their living god-tree go up in flames,” Theia said.

“She’s right,” Xalaria said. “For the Neoterics, especially at this juncture, even the appearance of weakness is something they have to guard against. They’ve been telling themselves that Vaingloth was a fool and that he wasn’t beaten but rather got himself killed. They’re all afraid to move on Mount Gloria because they suspect it’s been trapped by one of the others, or that Vaingloth might be less dead than it seems. Even the loss of a single divine fragment would be enough to tip Sasarai’s position into dangerous territory.”

I looked over at Theia, who was suppressing a gleeful little smile. She nodded at me to fill them in.

“And what sort of territory, just as a hypothetical exercise, would the loss of all of the divine fragments that he’d collected mean?” I asked.

No one in the train car made the mistake of thinking I was asking a hypothetical question. None of them seemed to be able to accept that for a moment however.

Except for Kalkit, who was studiously grooming himself and seemingly unconcerned with the conversation’s direction.

“The loss of several divine fragments would place Sasarai in a position where he could be certain the other Neoterics would come for him,” Xalaria said slowly. “The loss of all of his divine fragments would remove any cause he had for constraint whatsoever. Please tell us how many fragments he retains.”

“None. Not a single one.” I’d been concerned that he could have hidden some of them elsewhere, or perhaps had a few on his person when we raided the Shrine, but as I’d claimed them, I’d learned to feel their presence clearly.

Sasarai had no divine fragments left under his control at all.

He was still fantastically dangerous of course. The divine fragments were a key to power, but they were not powerful in and of themselves. Not for someone like Sasaria who they never would have chosen to grant their blessings to.

Sasarai had all the divine force he’d stolen and all the grace his worshipful people had generated for generations all safely locked up in the Holy Tree. He was far from helpless.

But he was still afraid of the other Neoterics, which, in turn, left me terrified of what they were capable of doing.

“He should be moving to destroy us immediately,” Xalaria said. “With all the forces he can command.”

“That’s not what he’s doing,” Kalkit said. “And he’s right. It wouldn’t save him. He only has one hope. He has to make sure none of the other Neoterics find out the truth. Not until he can kill us all.”

“I must confess I rather look forward to the day when all these irksome enemies are where they’re supposed to be.”

“What’s that? Oh. Enemies? Do we have enemies?”

“Yes, Helgon. Many and all of dubious quality.”

“Is not that a preferable state High Accessor Vaingloth? Or, would you prefer our enemies, um, whoever they might be, to be of sterling quality? Only the best foes to test ourselves against? Yes, I supposed to could see the value in that. Does seem like a lot of bother though. Wouldn’t it be simpler to just kill them all?”

“Yes Helgon. That is exactly my point.”

“I’m afraid I don’t see it.”

“Don’t see what.”

“Your point. If you’d like our enemies to be dead, why haven’t you killed them already. We are planning on killing more than a few people with the Grand Plan of Ascension, are we not?”

“No one else is calling it that Helgon, and yes, yes we are, which will be the proper time to put our enemies in the ground, since it will be too late for anyone to notice.”

“What if they’re Dwarves?”

“Dwarves? Why would…no, no do not say it.”

“I mean, putting a Dwarf in the ground would hardly trouble them would it? I gather they rather enjoy being underground.”

“I…you…where is Dyrena. I must have at least a minute of intelligent conversation or one of us will suffer an aneurysm and I cannot for the life of me say who I would prefer that to be.”

– High Accessor’s Vaingloth attempting to steer High Accessor Helgon into premature homicide so as to weaken Helgon’s position pre-Sunfall.

There’s a unique frustration that comes from having ten million questions you want to ask coupled with being so overwhelmed that forming even simple sentences was a challenge.

Fortunately Xalaria and the others who’d been waiting for us were more intent on shepherding us to safety underneath the Low City than they were in answering or asking questions.

This is more developed than I’d expected, Draconia said, her voice warmer and dearer than I’d ever allowed it to be. It was tempting to immediately cast myself back into unity we’d had when we flew from the Garden but I could feel how much we both needed me to stay ‘me’ and not just a tiny part of her.

It’s been a few generations, Umbrielle said, give them time and you’ll find people of all species can be rather industrious.

My surprise stems less from what the people here have put together and more from Sasarai’s tolerance of their industriousness, Draconia said. These buildings are more defensible than any he created before the Sunfall.

“The more defense the residents provide for themselves, the less effort he needs to expend in keeping away the spirits of the wastelands,” Xalaria said, which wasn’t entirely surprising. She wore the mantle of her blessing from the God of Battle so openly that it was impossible to miss her divine connection. That she’d bothered to listen in to our chatter was a touch more unexpected but then if she wasn’t the observant sort, I’m not sure how she would have known where to find us.

Unless the tiny bird-person or the giant green skinned man was responsible? They hadn’t introduced themselves, largely because we were moving at such a brisk pace that there hadn’t been time, but I could feel the giant carried a blessing related to growing things and the bird-person carried…something else? 

Secrets, Draconia said, speaking to me alone. They carry the Blessing of Secrets, an old ally of mine, though with less overlap between our domains than many seemed to think.

I considered that for a moment and saw what she meant. Secrets can certainly be one layer of protection for something that’s treasured, but secrets are flimsy, dangerous things and some treasures cannot be kept in secret. What Draconia protected was guarded by more than obfuscation and shadows.

Not that shadows don’t serve their purpose too, Draconia said to me. Our world would have been lost entirely without Night’s shadows to hide us away in secret.

Xalaria had led us down into a basement, and then through a dried up sewer system to, of all things, a gilded staircase.

“When did anyone have time to build this?” I asked, marveling at the gold foil not for its value but for oddity of its placement on a staircase leading down from the sewers of all places.

“Before the Sunfall,” Fulgrox said. His blessing was from the God of the Harvest and while he appeared to be a giant to me, I learned that he was simply a tall and stout orc which, somehow, my studies of the ‘Fallen World’ had failed to ever mention as a species of people who’d existed once upon a time, must less persisted into the present day.

“The Betrayers didn’t build their own cities,” Theia said. “They’re more into destroying and stealing.”

“They didn’t even bother with rebuilding,” Fulgrox said. “All the work you saw above ground? The people of the Low City put everything there back together. Created new fields and everything. I’m guessing the same was true for your people into the walls?”

That wasn’t what I’d been taught but I found myself questioning the Garden’s history Sasarai had sold us. Had the ‘Holy Tree’ really called forth fields and orchards aplenty inside the walls to provide for us when the rest of world grew barren? If it could do that why were so many people tasked with the tending and upkeep of the fields and orchards?

“I don’t know,” I said. “They told us the Holy Tree gave us everything we have, but the only miracles I ever saw from it were ones the people offered to it.”

It sounded stupid and obvious when I said it like that, and I felt like the world’s most clueless idiot for not seeing past Sasaria’s lies the first time I heard them, or the twentieth, or the thousandth. 

“The most difficult things to see are the ones which everyone agrees aren’t there,” Kalkit, the Blessed of Secrets Crowkin said.

Which, sure, I should have been easier on myself. When everyone tells you something from the time words first started making sense, it’s hard to consider that they might all have been lying.

But they were.

Or passing on a lie, which was worse since it meant I couldn’t even hate them properly. My parents, my family, my teachers? They were all victims of the society Sasarai had built even when they were the ones who made up that society. 

Down the golden staircase we went as I wrestled with thoughts like that, and with who I’d been. 

I’ll never be that person again.

Would you want to be? If you could? Draconia asked. If you’re memory of these days could be washed away and you could go back to the life you’d known, would you?

Lose my memories? I asked and answered her question in three words.

Draconia laughed. I knew I chose well.

Sorry it took me so long to see it.

I’m grateful it was so soon. I’d thought it might take your whole life.

If I’d been discovered, it might have.

You were never in as much physical danger as you imagined, Draconia said. You are mine after all, but while I can protect you from physical harm, your emotions are your own and I have seen how deeply today’s events would hurt you.

It’s not so much today’s events as what they tell me about all the events that led up to them. All the times I was lied to. All the times I lied to myself. All the times I called you a demon.

I found that last one delightful if I’m being honest. It’s rare that I’ve had a connection with anyone who didn’t worship me. It was nice, at times, to be asked to be no more than your demon.

I think…I started to say and asked myself if what I was about to say was really true. Turning it over in my head, I found that, oddly, it was. I think sometimes I liked being ‘possessed’. It made me feel special.

Special?

Well, I had it all twisted around, but I had to be better than some other people because I had an actual ‘demon’ possessing me and I wasn’t doing the things they did. I mean, I had an excuse to be ‘bad’ but I was still being faithful and good and just the most perfect dupe ever.

That sounded so good right up until the end there.

Yeah, sorry. I’m just flip flopping all over the place.

And what would you expect of someone who’d step away from the only life they’d known and was faced with a world they’d been told didn’t and couldn’t exist?

I didn’t have answer to that. 

And in that moment, I saw that I didn’t need one. I was going to be a mess. I was going to better than I’d been before. I was going to be both of those at once and either them at any given moment.

But I’d have her with me through all of it.

Together, we stepped through the ornate archway at the bottom of the gilded stairs.

Chaos abounded. People of more shapes and sizes and colors than I could have imagined were thronging around a lighted platform in a dark tunnel.

They have a transit system! Draconia asked, apparently knowing what it was we were looking at.

Yes. It’s quite new, Umbrielle said.

“Yay! We might actually survive till tomorrow,” Theia said, following Xalaria’s lead through the crowd without hesitation. “I wasn’t sure you all would be able to get this up and running in time.”

“You came back with twice the haul we were hoping for, providing you a clean getaway is the least we could do,”  Fulgrox said.

“A clean getaway to where?” I asked but my question was lost in the din of the crowd. It was easily to see the value of traveling underground, but I was pretty sure they were underestimating Sasarai’s willingness to wreck widescale destruction to get back what I’d taken from him.

Oh.

Right.

They didn’t know what I’d taken from him. All they knew was that Theia had come back with a new Blessed in tow. They couldn’t sense the contents of my hoard. No one could.

“This will give us a headstart but we’re still going to be pursued,” I said.

“That’s why everyone else is here,” Kalkit said. “Anyone who wants to work against your old master is evacuating with us.”

“Won’t that slow us down?” I asked. I couldn’t begrudge anyone from trying to escape Sasarai’s rule, but fleeing with them, at the pace of the slowest among them seemed like I’d be inviting trouble right into the midst of the people most interested in avoiding it.

“Oh, we’re not going to be walking,” Theia said with a broad smile as the sound of rushing wind grew closer.

How wind was blowing underground didn’t make sense until I saw a creature burst from the tunnel, racing in front of us and bury its head down the other tunnel.

A creature made of metal.

A creature that was, in fact, a machine of some kind.

A creature that people began piling into.

So, not a creature at all.

“What…?” was all I was able to say.

“Let’s get onboard,” Theia said. “Xalaria’s got a private car for us. We can talk there.”

I nodded because at least some of those words made sense and following Theia seemed a lot safer than lingering in the depths of a city that shouldn’t exist.

The ‘private car’ Theia led me too was a room where Xalaria, Fulgrox, Kalkit and couple of other people were waiting on tall backed bench seats which were facing each other. I was just able to take the seat Theia directed me to when I felt the car lurch and begin accelerating as fast as the wind.

“Where is this taking us?” I asked, thinking of all the lost corners of the world and the horrors that lurked in them.

“The one place a Neoteric won’t risk going,” Xalaria said.

“The domain of another Neoteric,” Theia said.