Chapter LXXIII: Following Your Dreams

The darkness reached out to Hiraiko. All hesitation gone, she reached back.

Descending into the depths of Pso’Xja, the Summoner found herself with little else to greet her. The red-glowing spheres which had illuminated her path downwards had all but faded away. Only darkness remained, pure and still. It called out to her, entreating her to move onwards. Though she could no longer ascertain where her footfalls took her, she pressed on nonetheless. By darkness she was entranced.

The voices which had so dominated her thoughts had now faded away entirely. They remained now as only a dull presence on the outskirts of her consciousness. Only one voice, with one powerful repeated command, echoed in her thoughts. I am coming! She urgently told the disembodied speaker. It did not change in tone or wording. Instead it only dragged out again, in a low but urgent growl, the same three words.

Come to me.

In her hands, the Astral Signa pulsed. The staff seemed alive with power now, radiating a dark force all around her. Denizen of Pso’Xja, ranging from the non-aggressive diremites to the stealthy and deadly Tonberries, curiously sought out the source of this malevolent aura. Hiraiko, her steps guided by darkness, did not put a thought towards eluding them. She only needed to keep on moving. Down, further and further into the ancient ruins she descended. Her destination was unknown to her, but she placed her faith in the dark voice calling her towards it.

With a start, she realized the ground was moving underneath her. Had she the presence of mind, Hiraiko would have marveled at the disc she had stepped upon which now floated downwards upon long-lost machinery. As it was, she only felt her anticipation growing. This machine was leading her towards the voice. And she had to go to the voice. There was nothing else to it.

Further into shadow she delved, chasing that which beckoned her. All the while she remained oblivious to the things now trailing after her.


Betrayil darted out ahead of Rykoshet. Whatever momentary despair had overtaken the ninja was gone quickly as it had come. His katana had been back in his hand before it had even settled on the floor. With Battousai and Rykoshet trailing behind, he now ran recklessly through the halls of Pso’Xja. Paramount in his mind was finding Hiraiko. Stealth, planning, and personal safety were secondary to this goal.

The Elvaan brothers had been quick to pick up the chase. Fill said nothing as they loosened their weapons and took off in pursuit of Betrayil. Rykoshet would not have stopped even if he had. He was not about to abandon Hiraiko in this forsaken hole, but the Ninja was not about to wait in finding her again. He was a flash of black against the dull red lighting of Pso’Xja. Straining his legs to keep up, Rykoshet rounded a corner only to find Betrayil already disappearing behind another. Battousai cursed loudly behind him, shouting at the Hume to slow down. It was a futile effort.

Finally, they found him. Betrayil was stopped, head cocked to face the two of them, at a fork in the path. His eyes were like flint as he watched them, his only motion tightening the grip on his single drawn katana.

“Betrayil,” Rykoshet began, surprised at how out-of-breath he was, “slow down. We don’t know where we are, and we’re getting away from the light.”

“This isn’t helping to find her,” Battousai chimed in. Rykoshet fought down annoyance at how easily his brother was breathing. “She couldn’t have gone far. If we search together it’ll go faster.”

“Neither of you are as fast as me,” he replied harshly. It surprised Rykoshet to hear the normally quiet Betrayil issue such a stinging rebuke. “But I can’t be in two places at once. I’m going left, you search the path to the right.”

“But – “ Rykoshet started.

“Call out if you find something. I’ll hear you.”

And then he was gone. Battousai growled out an oath, violently scraping the edge of his great sword against the dimly-lit stone walls.

“I hate Ninjas, dammit,” he said sourly. The scarred warrior then turned to his brother, eyes questioning.

Rykoshet groaned inwardly. He was tired, beat up, and didn’t have a clue where he was. Both ways he could see gradually descended into darkness. They could go back, but he wasn’t even sure if he could navigate the tunnels successfully, and even if he could there was only Fill to go back to. As long as the North Wind was refusing to leave before whatever unknown task they were supposed to accomplish was done, they were simply wasting time to hang around him.

He hated scenarios like this. No matter what he did there was no guarantee of getting anything done. Rykoshet cursed himself for blindly running after Betrayil in the first place. The Ninja could probably find Hiraiko by himself. All he had succeeded by following him was further splintering their small group.

The Elvaan peered back down the way he had come. They were only running for a few minutes. He could likely find a way back to the chamber the North Wind occupied. He stared down the hall Betrayil had indicated. It wove down several twists and turns before being consumed by darkness. There was no indication of what dangers lay waiting in shadow. The decision was very clear to Rykoshet, if no less painful to make.

“Vile’s back that way, and he’s angry,” Rykoshet said, turning to Battousai.

“Right, so we go down the hall.”

“Right.”

Without another word, the two brothers slid further down the labyrinth, the perils which could be waiting far preferable to that which assuredly did.


“I’m going to kill him,” Vile’s voice was acidic enough to melt stone.

“So you’ve said.”

The Tarutaru glanced angrily at the serene North Wind. The green-robed buffoon was gingerly scratching his moronic beard. He had all the expression of a sheet of glass. Thus far he seemed completely content listening to Vile rage at the revelation of who it was laying siege to Pso’Xja.

“You set this up,” the Black Mage growled suspiciously.

“I would have no reason to hide such information from you, Vile-Revile,” the way he tossed about his full name like it meant something made Vile want to peel the man’s lips off. “Despite you being acquainted with my antagonist, I still know nothing about his identity.”

“Yeah, well don’t waste time learning. It’s about to become a moot point.” The Tarutaru tore the staff on his back free. The black gem affixed to the top began to spit out black flames at his touch. “Where’s he trying to get in from?”

“There is a single weak point in the defenses of Pso’Xja,” Fill began. A weak point other than not being able to use any magic because it’ll tell the enemy exactly where all your friends are? thought Vile. “Lethe can lead you there. If a breach into the ruins is to be made, it will happen there.”

The water elemental who called himself the Herald stepped forward. “Wait,” Vile interjected. “What about this spot makes it a weak point?”

Fill nodded, like he had expected the question. Vile doubted the old charlatan had any powers beyond full bore insanity, being cooped up in this miserable den all the time. “Every entrance to Pso’Xja is blocked with a spell. The nature of the enchantment severely dampens the powers of anyone whom passes through.” He gazed meaningfully at the Black Mage. “This affects every entrance except one. It has always remained hidden, but the winds tell me I would be foolish to doubt the ability of the one coming to finish me off.”

Vile made a noise of disgust. “You’d be a fool if you thought he hadn’t already found it.”

“Impossible,” Lethe chimed in. Vile wanted to start a fire and boil the overblown water balloon. “A mage powerful enough to command demons, and seal off the exits as he has done . . . we would know immediately if he entered Pso’Xja itself.”

“Which is why he probably sent in his demons first,” Vile hissed. “I can feel their rancid presence like rotten meat.”

Lethe stared at him, and then turned towards the ceiling, casting his eyes upwards. A moment later he gaped at Fill, but the brown-bearded wizard put up a hand, looking at Vile intently.

“So, Vile-Revile,” he’d make him eat his own lips afterwards if he could, “what is your suggested course of action?”

“Get me to where this entrance is. He isn’t here, but he’ll be waiting. I’m taking the fight to him.”


Rykoshet halted Battousai in their tracks. The tunnels stretched out endlessly into darkness around them. He had long since lost track of which direction they had come from. Everything looked the same now. Light was almost non-existant. Their eyes had adjusted as well as they could, but there was precious little they could adjust to. The Elvaan brothers were stopped now in an open chamber. One path led back the way they came, the other up a set of stairs. Rykoshet had not seen anything which suggested Hiraiko had come this way. He looked from one entrance to the other with scarcely veiled frustration.

“I don’t know where to go,” he admitted.

“Hmm,” Battousai replied, eyes facing out the way they had come. “That’s a problem. Also, we’re surrounded.”

Rykoshet gave an exasperated sigh. “One thing at a time,” he admonished.

“Sorry,” the younger brother said sheepishly. Then both turned, and simultaneously shot a burst of dark magic at either doorway.

A screech of confusion cut off by the impact of their spell echoed from both sides of the room. The duo had their weapons drawn in the next instant. After only a moment, a hose of yellow-glowing eyes appeared from the darkness, flooding into the small chamber. Demons with cruel, hooked scythes, demons with massive axes, demons using only their bare hands; they all swarmed over Rykoshet and Battousai. The brothers stood back to back, letting the wave of Kindred come their way.

With devastating fury, the two counterattacked. Battousai swept his sword in an arc so fierce it cut through weapons and demon flesh with equal ease. Rykoshet lowered Tzee Xicu’s spear and charged forward. His initial thrust impaled a demon, and he lifted it from the ground with monstrous strength, using the writhing fiend as a battering ram. Battousai took hold of one demon looming over him, pressing a steel-plated palm over the surprised creature’s face. Tendrils of black magic shot through the demon and into the Elvaan, draining away his strength and life. With the force of the one he had drained, the younger of the two brothers cleaved two more of the Kindred with a single slash. They still flooded over the two, but Rykoshet twirled the massive spear over his head, creating a whirlwind of death to all that came near.

Then a well-aimed strike clipped Rykoshet’s knee. The Elvaan stumbled forward, giving the demons the second they needed to swarm over him. They clawed and bit at him, stumbling over themselves in their bid to reach him. Battousai ran towards him, but another set of demons grabbed him, shoving him to the ground. He kicked and thrashed, fighting his way free at first, but then others joined in dogpiling him. Several armed demons were struggling to pull their overzealous brethren away so that they might finish the two off with a single blow. One of them raised an axe high overhead, fully prepared to cleave through other Kindred in order to take Rykoshet’s head.

The howl the plethora of demons gave as two sets of Dread Spikes ruptured the air. Those which had been atop the two Elvaan cried pitifully as their own life was drained away to heal the same wounds they had inflicted. Dark surges of energy crackled in the air as Rykoshet and Battousai both rose, weapons in hand. Still the demons pressed forward, thrusting at them from a distance and forcing them backwards one step at a time. At least twenty of them had crowded into the tiny space, howling and cursing in the demon tongue at the pair. Rykoshet shot his brother a glance even as he parried a slash meant to eviscerate him.

“Can you keep this up long?” His own voice was terse. The effort of maintaining Dread Spikes was often not worth the risk.

Battousai only shook his head. Beads of sweat were dripping down his face, cresting his X-shaped scar. The dark force around him wavered.

“Then we’ll end it,” Rykoshet said, thrusting his spear defensively, “I’ll cover you. Now!”

The elder brother cut out in front of the younger, slashing wildly with his spear. He let his spikes drop, and instead focused his energy on driving them back with one desperate charge. A moment of confusion rippled through their ranks at his mad charge. Then, they realized they still had the vast advantage in numbers. They were on him like flies upon a rotting carcass in instants. Fortunately, that was all the time Rykoshet needed.

Battousai came down, great sword first, from his leap. Just as he had done with the Roc, the Dark Knight crashed to the ground with explosive force, striking the heart of the Kindred with a shattering blow. Exactly how shattering he didn’t realize, however, until the floor collapsed beneath them.

The rock and granite surface exploded beneath the force of Battousai’s signature Ground Strike. Cries erupted from the Kindred as the entire room collapsed. In a haze of smoke and a noise which echoed throughout Pso’Xja, the chamber burst apart. Rykoshet and Battousai clung to their weapons as the floor buckled beneath them, and the two plunged downward into a spiral of ever-deepening darkness.


She could hear the voice in the darkness now as clearly as if it were standing right next to her. Desperately, Hiraiko wanted to press forward. One more door and she would finally reach it. All she had to do was cross this final barrier and she would stand face to face with the darkness itself. Consternation was far greater than fear as she stared up at the two demons looming over her, standing solidly between her and the door she sought.

The Summoner took a step backwards, and they advanced on her menacingly. They appeared as surprised as she was, but they overcame that almost immediately. Both were standard demons as Hiraiko had always seen before. Tall and lanky with a body segmented by thick plate-like skin over their wire-thin frames. Small semi-functional wings flared out at the sight of her, and two fang-filled muzzles opened as their glowing yellow eyes focused on the lone girl.

Hiraiko raised the Astral Signa in defense. The two demons both brandished long, curved swords forged of blackest steel. They took another step towards her, eyes now glowing fiercely as they determined this would be an easy kill. The Summoner was lost in the haze of her calling. The voice had said nothing about fighting. She didn’t want to fight. She wanted to cross through that door. Curved claws on their hooked feet clacked against the granite floor as they advanced on her. She had to get through that door.

The demons halted, merely a few feet away from her. Hiraiko slowly raised her head, peering at the two mutely. They were no longer looking at her. Instead, their gaze was directed at something just past her.

She looked up at the two towering brutes, still holding their blades aloft. They growled to themselves in their demonic tongue. One of them shouted, bringing up its weapon and swinging it menacingly. For a moment, the true nature of her situation gripped her. She felt the cold grip of fear clutch at her stomach, and her hands trembled on the Astral Signa. The Summoner wanted to throw down the staff and run. But now it was increasingly apparent that there was nowhere to run to. Besides the demons in front of her, something was definitely lurking behind.

Surpressing the urge to tightly close her eyes, Hiraiko turned her head from the demons. Slowly, she let herself look behind her. She gasped as a breeze suddenly struck her from nowhere, and then blinked rapidly. There was nothing behind her at all. Only the empty hallway she had first descended. With a start, she sprang back around as a clatter rang out from in front of her.

Drawing the blade of his katana free, Betrayil stood poised over two dead demons. A river of black blood pooled beneath the two fresh corpses. Their swords had fallen to the ground, useless in their limp hands. The Ninja allowed himself only a brief moment to make sure he had been successful in his attack. With a flick of both hands, a black, foul-smelling powder fell from his gloves. A moment later the two bodies burst into flames. Wordlessly, the black-garbed Hume stepped between the burning demons, sheathing his weapons as he approached Hiraiko.

He reached out a hand for her, and she brushed it away. The butt of the Astral Signa came down to strike the ground. Betrayil stared at her, confused.

“I have to go to it,” she said aloud. The sound of her own voice startled her. It felt like ages since she had heard it last. Since there had been anything besides the one driving voice pushing her forward. “I don’t know why, but I must. I must.”

Betrayil looked at her with a raptor’s gaze. She met his gaze with one equally as intense. She had to reach that doorway. No matter what else might happen, she had to reach the voice.

The Ninja’s voice was soft when he finally spoke. “I don’t pretend to understand everything happening here,” he admitted. “Four Winds, demons, Dynamis – I just take it as it comes.”

He reached out for her, and this time she let him gently slide his hand over hers. She felt her fingers stretch out, removing her grasp from the Astral Signa. It felt as if she had not let go since she first took hold of it. The Summoner’s bones ached as she took Betrayil’s hand in hers.

“But I understand that I am lost without you,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper. “I will not stop you from doing whatever it is you must. But I will not let you do it alone.”

After only a moment’s pause, a smile broke out across Hiraiko’s face. She pulled Betrayil in to a long embrace. The voice had fallen silent. It no longer needed to speak. Her trials were over. It was time, finally, to meet her dark speaker.

“Then come with me, Betrayil,” Hiraiko agreed, raking her hands through his hair as she pulled away. He nodded once, and without hesitation he stepped aside to let her pass.

With the Ninja following behind, Hiraiko slid open the glowing granite door, and together they entered the Shrouded Maw.


Rykoshet groaned as the first hint of consciousness returned to him. His first instinct was to sit up, but pain seared through him when he tried. Even through his armor he knew his collarbone had been bruised at best, broken at worst. It hurt to even raise his head. Still, he knew roughly where he was; atop a pile of rubble an indeterminate number of yards down from where he had been standing before his younger brother had broken through the floor. Other than that, he was lost again.

A weak cough came from his side, and he winced shifting his eyes to find the source. Battousai was pulling himself clear from the debris. His black armor was caked in dust, and chunks of stone and dirt were falling like snow from his shaggy blonde hair. The scarred Elvaan coughed with more violence, hacking up pieces of what had once been a room in Pso’Xja. He hobbled over to his brother, wincing at every step and favoring his right leg. Reaching out a gauntleted hand to Rykoshet, he grimaced against whatever pain he was feeling himself.

“I think we got ‘em,” he said as Rykoshet clasped his hand. The elder brother cried out as he was pulled upwards. He came up staggering, clutching the area near his neck. It felt like his bones were on fire.

Sure enough, the pile of rubble they had landed atop was demarcated with the remains of their assailants. Broken limbs and shattered bones stuck out from the blood-stained wreckage.

“Sweet Altana, that hurt.” Rykoshet braced himself as he struggled to move his right arm. “But you’re right, I guess. We made it out of there at least.”

“No closer to finding Hiraiko.”

“Betrayil probably got her already. Let’s try and find some way back to Fill, then we can – “

He stopped. They both did.

Both of them felt the tremendous, undisguised force coming their way. Rykoshet’s mouth went dry as the familiar aura grew closer, and closer still. The sound of gentle footfalls moving at a gradual, measured pace came echoing down the hall. With every slow, deliberate step it came closer, until the huge chi was right on top of them.

“Oh no,” Rykoshet gasped, more from disbelief than anything. “No, no, not now.”

The footsteps came closer still. The Elvaan’s eyes darted across the rubble, and settled on the shaft of Tzee Xicu’s spear rising up from the debris. It was several feet away from him. There was no way he had enough time.

“What is it?” Battousai’s voice was urgent as he took a step away from the singular doorway leading into the room they had fallen into.

Rykoshet could have screamed in frustration as the source of the aura rounded the corner into the room.

It was Rennie.