Aperio creased her brows at the flow of the System's magic. What does it want with this soul? All the message said was that he had died and his sacrifice had been accepted. The only problem was that Aperio could not figure out what the sacrifice was for. And who was sacrificed.

Her question was quickly and unpleasantly answered. The lifeless bodies, the ones whose souls she had not directly removed, began to shift and rise. They did not ask questions, perhaps incapable of speech. The corpses only groaned as they looked around and, spotting Aperio, began to advance towards her.

The soul in her hand, too, wanted to return to its body, but the magic drawing on it was far too weak to elicit a response from Aperio. Instead of letting another undead rise, she let the soul of the slaver vanish into her Void, her eyes wandering to the sword that lay next to his limp body.

It glowed in the same faint yellow light she had come to associate with her collar, its mere appearance causing her hand to briefly brush against her neck. Of course her fingers found nothing but unblemished skin, but her mind still somehow thought it should be there.

A wave of her hand caused the newly risen undead to burst into flame, the silver-blue fire sending their souls into her Void. Disgusting. Another thought caused a burst of her fire to rid the world of the sword and its vile yellow light. She knew it had somehow been related to the slaves she had freed, the runes for Servitude and Obedience unmistakable.

While she might have removed their souls, their mortal shells were still there. The smell of burnt corpses tickled her nose, producing a smell Aperio would rather not remember. An unneeded wave of her hand caused a breeze to sweep over the desolate field and crater she had made. For a brief moment, she considered fixing the damage she had done, but decided against it.

She was far from any city or semblance of civilisation, the ones passing through here likely more armies on their way to Ebenlowe. A warning as to what would await them seemed fitting. To that end, she also brought forth the other corpses she still had in her Void — all of which had somehow been related to the insurrection Vigil and Inanis had started. And I don't even know for what.

Aperio sighed as she looked at the death she had wrought. The lack of emotions at the sight of hundreds dead was something that perhaps would have given her pause before, but did not now. The life of mortal slavers did not mean much to her, even if they had only been followers. They could have chosen to leave but they didn’t — instead they followed someone who bound people to him against their will.

She shook her head as she kicked off of the ground and took to the skies. A small mental query informed Laelia of the new arrivals the All-Mother had deposited outside the house of healing. Aperio considered offering an apology for a moment, but could find neither the words nor the courage to speak them. It wasn’t even that the idea felt wrong as it had in the past — that particular feeling seemingly having vanished after her breakdown in the Terenyk estate — but simply that she had no idea how to approach the issue. What she had said was true. She had also meant every word of it.

Why is this so hard? Aperio shook her head at the thought. Having to watch her words and choose for herself what she wanted to do with the mortals that crossed her path was still something new for her, despite all the time she had already spent on Verenier. Ridiculous.

A thought caused the blood that still clung to her form to flow, pushed away by the wind pressing against her. Much easier than using soap. Another touch of her magic also cleaned her weapon, the blade still somehow dirty despite being able to cut through reality itself. How can anything stick if it cuts space itself? …What does it even cut?

With a shake of her head, Aperio stored the swordstaff in her Void. Figuring out how exactly her weapon worked was a task for another time. For now, she wanted to figure out who Epemirial was without having to face her daughter or her followers. While asking them would undoubtedly be the fastest way to answer her question, approaching them at the moment was not something the All-Mother was ready to do.

Focusing on her aura, Aperio let it guide her to the nearest city. She might still be on Vetus, but her trip through the white abyss had taken her a long way from Ebenlowe. She mentally sighed at the prospect of having to hide her wings, but at the moment she did not want to stand out.

To further decrease the stares she would receive, the winged Goddess also lowered the amount of mana she drew from her well again. The wisps that danced around her soon melted back into her body to continue their unending task of improvement.

For a brief moment she considered trying to lower her height a little, but ultimately decided against it. It would likely be painful for her, and she quite liked being able to tower over everyone. Maybe it will also stop the mortals from asking silly questions.

She had been told that she was intimidating, something she very much wanted to take advantage of now. To a degree, at least. Scaring the mortals so much that they would bar her entry was definitely counterproductive, but a taller than average Elf with a weapon, armoured dress, and voice laced with magic should probably be good enough. That one Adventurer did think I was some kind of Elder, perhaps that could work.

As she raced through the air, another thing came to Aperio's mind. A mortal had been in possession of something that could raise the dead. It was a fact that unnerved her. She might not know how common the objects were, and they did not offend the seemingly ever-present primal Creator in her, but she still found the idea of someone being able to raise an army of the dead by simply giving a little bit of mana to an amulet to be deeply disturbing. That it bound the souls of mortals to their dead bodies just furthered her dislike.

But why does it not feel wrong if it binds souls? Aperio thought to herself as she fell into a comfortable rhythm of beating her wings and gliding just below the clouds. Teleporting to the city was certainly an option, but at the moment the All-Mother wanted some time to think. Matters of the soul were a mystery to her that she would like to solve. Anything else that messes with souls feels so wrong.

She could vividly remember the small pendant floating above the corpse of the slaver; how small and unassuming it had been. Just before the magic had been released and the amulet faded into nothing, it had split in two, revealing an inside that reminded her more of a geode than a piece of jewelry.

Aperio did not exactly know how geodes related to magic, but she had seen quite a few of them scattered around the various laboratories she had had to clean... or had been the subject of experimentation in... 

She shuddered. That such a small thing could turn a few hundred mortals into shambling corpses was not a good thing. Though, it might've only worked with the sword and the sacrifice of his life …or did the entire army, knowing what might come to pass, willingly agree to return as undead?

Something about that specific idea did not seem quite right. Aperio had a hard time believing anyone would be willing to let themselves be turned into an undead just so they could fight on for their Lord. Or were they also slaves?

She had examined every mortal in the army and transported anyone who had the markings of servitude either etched into their skin or on a piece of equipment they held to Ebenlowe — she had even gone so far as to check the soul of each mortal before fighting them. Did I miss something?

A shake of her head dismissed the thought. She had looked at everything that could have been used to force the mortals to do something they did not want. She had also offered them the choice to leave; an option that nobody took, much to her dismay.

Killing them had been laughably easy. A part of her still enjoyed the fact that she had fought at all, even if the thrill of an actual battle was not present. How would I even know the thrill of battle? She had never been in a real fight; it had always been a one-sided beatdown. And now I am the one that they can't fight against.

All she had done was switch sides, in a way. Fighting with her swordstaff had also been a breeze, the motions almost as easy to perform as moving her wings. The knowledge of how to handle the weapon, how to shift her weight, just how far her reach was had simply been there. Just as she instinctively knew how to fly, she knew how to fight with what she had. Although I had to retrieve my weapon to remember…

With another shake of her head, the All-Mother pushed those thoughts from her mind as well. In the end, it was a good thing that she could recall fragments of her past, even if it required her to use things her old self had created. Her brief excursion through the white abyss had also left its mark on her. She now knew how to get there, but not what it was.

A thought and a small flex of her mental muscles opened a tear in reality that always stayed next to her despite the speed at which she was flying. Letting her senses sweep across the white nothing revealed nothing at first, and the idea that she might find something her old self had made quickly dwindled. That was, until she stumbled across what she could only describe as a temple. A temple she recognised.

It was the very same building Vigil and Inanis had ascended in, the black stone it was made from exactly as she recalled it in her memory. However, neither the silver lines snaking their way across the entirety of the building nor the braziers dotting the walls were active. No blue flames flickered where they had in her memory — none of her mana flowed through now-dull conduits of the building, and not a single soul resided within.

A thought was all the All-Mother needed to appear before her temple; the lines of silver coming alive with her mana as soon as she ran her hand over the closed door.

It felt like home.

Not like the cold comfort of her Void, but the warmth of family and loved ones. A feeling she had not felt in her past life but still could point out without much trouble. This is where I lived?

She could feel the temple thrum with energy, her mana ripping the building from its slumber. At the fringes of her mind, memories she did not know she had crawled into the view of her mind's eye. A young Ferio chasing after a Beastkin clad in red robes with a single black sphere on it, the man nimbly swinging from the branches of Roots-Beneath-All. Though it had no face, the tree was still seemingly happy.

"Roots, Chellien..." Aperio said, somehow knowing the name of the Beastkin despite having never seen him. There was nothing now where she remembered the field of green grass and blue flowers to be. Only pieces of rock floating in the white abyss.

A gentle shove opened the door and Aperio turned her head away from the empty nothing she had been staring at to face the inside of her temple. The hallways quickly filled with light, the blue flames flickering to life as soon as the lines of sliver that connected them all lit up with her mana.

She let her instincts guide her feet. A part of her knew where she wanted to go even though it was her first time setting foot inside the temple. Aperio soaked it all in, every painting that adorned the walls, every little detail that entered her sight.

The further she got, the more seemed off to her. Things were no longer how they should be. The paintings hung slightly ajar, the usually spotless construction showed tiny cracks, and, most importantly, the flow of mana that ran through every wall of her temple felt distorted. Wrong.

Aperio quickened her pace, each step filling her with more and more dread as her mind focused on at the heart of her temple and the feelings of vile disgust it brought to her mind. Soon she was running, ripping holes in the fabric of space and time that should take her where she wanted to go but only ever managing to bring her a dozen steps closer.

Her swordstaff appeared in the All-Mother's hand as she stepped through the final tear she had created and into the heart of her temple. She knew this place. The polished black marble floor, the blue carpets with their silver embroidery — the altar and her throne behind it.

What she could not remember in this place was a crystal easily ten times her size floating in the middle of the room, slowly spinning as the blood red mist inside tried to break free. Every time the mist crashed against the confines of its crystal prison, Aperio felt a wave of disgust roll over her.

The first caused her to flare her wings and draw on her well, the arcs of her mana singeing the air as they danced across her skin. Another led her to grip her swordstaff tighter, more and more of her magic flowing through the weapon.

She knew what that crystal was, what it would try to do. This time there would be no talking; she would take back what was hers. Another wave of vile magic rolled off the crystal and washed over the All-Mother. Aperio let out a scream as she kicked off of the ground and beat her wings, throwing herself at the crystal to end its existence.

The stone and metal chairs, tables, and benches that were dotted around the room were thrown into the walls as Aperio crashed into the crystal. Her weapon easily pierced the vile construct, and the mana that had been taken from the All-Mother eagerly flowed back to its mistress, burning the remains of its prison as it did so.

Aperio let out another scream, this time in pain, as untold amounts of mana rushed through her body. Despite the feeling of molten rock flowing through her veins, her bones breaking and mending and breaking again at a speed too fast for a mortal to comprehend, Aperio did not fall.

The magic in her well shifted as more and more excess that her body could not handle flooded the endless ocean, a part of it flowing into what she knew was the System. Aperio did not care. She stood at the Heart of her Creation, closing her eyes as a new set of memories slowly returned to her.

She was home.

GamingWolf

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