“The Nova Rim at large has forgotten about the swarms of heretics invading their worlds not two centuries ago in the sixteenth Heretic War. Too much is forgotten too easily. These creatures are a blight upon this galaxy, birthed from a wrathful god. They are sent to punish the Nova Rim for its sins, but we do not abide by this god’s judgment. The only righteous path in dealing with their kind is wholesale elimination. Nothing else will suffice.”
—High Priest of Faldak Gerzimone Gradarn, in an official edict to his followers
“I ran after them until my mentor stopped me,” Zaina said, “I never saw their face. I don’t know what they wanted—or why they were there.”
High Scholar Geli Fawndar leaned in. “And you say they were wielding a fang?”
“Yes,” Zaina said as her eyes darted about High Scholar Fawndar’s personal office—it was in disarray, with books on all subjects strewn about, their places marked with string; papers and writing utensils were scattered across a large desk, with Geli’s assistants poring through them for requested information. Ovela was standing beside High Scholar Vae, who was fuming in the back corner; the former lancer gave a subtle wave and half-smile as Zaina’s eyes fell on her.
Zaina nodded and continued, “Yes—a black sword. It was exactly like the one I saw back on Demelia.”
Geli stroked her chin. “This is troubling news, indeed. This heretic may have been attempting to reach out to you, or trying to lead you into a trap. It’s likely this is only the beginning, especially since they’ve been able to mask their presence.”
“Didn’t you check your surveillance? Can’t you track where they came from?” Zaina asked.
Geli shook her head. “I’m afraid not. It’s the same as the Eldritch’s orb—some sort of interference prevents the feed from working properly. This time it affected our entire residential area’s monitoring system for a few hours. It is most frustrating.”
Another High Scholar, hovering to Geli’s right, surged forward. This one was an elderly female Grathian, with smooth green skin and a flat, noseless face; her hair was black, symbolizing old age amongst Grathians, and was twisted, thin, and wispy. “Its foul magick is at play—the Eldritch is ancient, able to bend reality itself to its will; there’s no telling what it will do in service of fulfilling its one purpose.”
Geli gestured toward the High Scholar. “Zaina, if I may introduce High Scholar Yla Fidabow, Scholar Suprema of Chronicling. She would like to speak with you.”
Zaina shifted her weight, a little on edge. She didn’t know what to expect whenever a new scholar presented themselves—would they accept her, or no?
“Zaina,” the elder scholar said. “You indicated in your prior testimony that the Eldritch is capable of bodily possession—of incorporating people’s flesh, or overwhelming their spirit into doing its bidding. Do you believe that either may be the case here?”
Zaina frowned. “It seems unlikely that a heretic would be able to land on Kaado and do all this. Be all the places they need to—I don’t know. I think there’s a better chance it came from within.”
Yla leaned in, though her eyes were clear and glassy, clearly years removed from proper sight. “You think the Eldritch has targeted one of our own—perhaps one who strayed where they should not.”
Zaina shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine, but that’s what makes the most sense to me.”
Yla sighed. Then, the elder said, “You’ve given us much information about the Eldritch; I suppose it’s fair to return the favor with what the Order knows. The Eldritch predates the Synatorium, the Order—possibly even the universe in its current state. Current estimates of its age—gathered via analysis of the orb you provided—date the Eldritch’s first host back to before the fall of the Primortala.”
Zaina gulped. If she remembered her Synatorium history class correctly, that was over two million years ago. No wonder it needed a new host.
Yla continued, “That said, it has only ever taken corporeal form twice that we know of: once on Symerda, and once on Demelia. For hundreds of thousands of years before that, the Eldritch traveled from world to world as a cosmic spirit—a ghost of sorts, infesting people with its foul mark, and leaving—usually with little incident, aside from the creation of several heretics.”
Zaina nodded. Gir had said something similar back home.
Yla went on. “The Eldritch’s modus operandi seems to be changing—whereas before, it was only concerned with spreading the Mark of the Recalcitrant, it now seeks a host for its essence. Perhaps that will give it more power to achieve a more nefarious end—dark plans in motion for eons coming to fruition in front of our very eyes. Or perhaps its old host was no longer suitable for its new purpose.”
Unsure of what to make of the scholar’s words, Zaina got back to the point. “So, wouldn’t it make sense to get rid of the orb, then? Throw it into the sun, like my mentor said? Then it can’t take another host.”
Geli replied, “The Order has reasons to believe that may not be the best idea—destroying its only physical form may lead to the release of its power, untethered, upon the greater Nova Rim; or perhaps not. All our options are being considered, every risk being weighed. Truthfully, the likeliest scenario is that we take it to the Sky Vault in the Origin Ridge, and likely within the week.”
Yla said, “For now, we are taking every precaution, especially since the passing of High Scholar Nash. It’s been difficult to analyze the stone; even High Scholars such as myself, untouched by the Eldritch’s influence, hear the shadowy whispers when we enter its safekeeping chamber. We’ve implemented rules—five minutes of study per High Scholar every fifty hours, to prevent any of us from succumbing, all enforced by a rotation of former lancers.
“That said—it seems to be probing our minds, or at least, it was mine. It wasn’t as intrusive as I imagine your experiences have been, based on how you describe them; that, too, has been enlightening. It seems the Eldritch is seeking a specific target as its new host—it wants either a half-heretic or a lancer, and there are attributes beyond that it desires, too. Perhaps its ideal host will grant it more power in its corporeal form.”
A shudder ran up Zaina’s spine. The Eldritch didn’t need more power. It seemed she had only escaped with her life because it wasn’t trying to kill her. The thought wasn’t comforting in the slightest.
She shuddered. It’s going to try to come back. I don’t know how, or when, but—I know it is.
Yla finished up, having still been talking while Zaina was spacing out for a moment. “…and so, no active lancers will be allowed near the safekeeping chamber, just to be safe. Now—I do believe I’ve taken up enough of your time, and you’ve given me quite a bit to chronicle, and a bit to go over in unfinished chronicles—and any literature about the Eldritch will have to be revised and updated; yes, many moons of work await, but this has been invaluable. Thank you, Zaina Quin.”
Zaina bowed her head and said, “I’m glad I could help.”
Not like I really said much of anything. What are they getting out of this?
“Your contribution is not over yet—in the coming months, possibly years, I’ll be sending over a scholar to gather more details and testimony—not only about yourself, but about Demelia, and the Deluge which befell it. There are many gaps in the history books to fill in now and much new history to chronicle. But, for today, this will put us on the right path.”
Zaina’s lips pulled into a taut frown. These guys really do want to record damn near everything.
Yla continued, “As for the investigation, I cannot speak to that.”
“I can,” said High Scholar Fawndar. “Thank you for coming forward with all of this, Zaina. As for this incident—would you be comfortable being assigned a bodyguard?”
Zaina winced. As much as a bodyguard sounded nice, it also invited trouble. Another person who potentially hated her, blamed her for taking away their “prime lancer years,” as her mentor had put it—no, there was no need for that. Besides, if Zaina was going to be a lancer, she’d rather learn how to defend herself instead. “I think I’m fine without one, thank you. But I do have a question—maybe it’s a weird one.”
Geli gestured to allow it.
Zaina continued, “Is there some sort of swordsmanship class or something like that? My mentor seems determined not to show me anything, and the vexicon can’t exactly teach me what I’m doing with a cipher.”
High Scholar Fawndar smiled. “Yes, I do think there’s something I can do for you, Zaina Quin. Expect an unexpected visitor tomorrow, if you would.”
Zaina narrowed her eyes in suspicion. What the hell does that mean?
“On another note,” Geli went on, “have you had a chance to visit the forge yet?”
“No,” Zaina said. “I haven’t even heard of it.”
Geli frowned. “Very well. I think this meeting has come to a close. Everyone is dismissed. Zaina, take this.” A small glyph detached from her hover-bed. “It will lead you to the forge if your mentor isn’t inclined to.”
“Thank you, High Scholar,” Zaina said. “And I can already tell you that she won’t be.”
“I am sorry to hear that. Perhaps time will make friends of you yet. Best of luck, Zaina Quin.”
Zaina flashed a genuine smile—it was the nicest thing anyone had said to her in days. Elest Vae, grumbling to himself and wringing his hands, was first out of the room. Ovela flashed a wave and a smile Zaina’s way, and she returned with a wave of her own. Then Ovela followed Vae.
