Victor of Tucson-Chapter 44Book 12: : Life Finds a Way

44 – Life Finds a Way

Victor soared high above Xelhuan’s miniature world, swollen with the glut of fiery, furious Energy in the air. One thing he’d learned in his endeavor to destroy the Death Caster’s machinations was that his long-held assumptions about Energy and its generation were wrong or, at least, incomplete. There was no doubt in his mind that he and the mountain at the center of the landmass below him had created more Energy. With each Wake the Earth he cast, and each eruption of the quake-torn world, it mounted, filling the atmosphere until it was so thick that Victor could feel it with his flesh as much as his veil walker’s senses.

Somehow, the Energy he put out was amplified by the eruptions; they fed each other, but each cycle left more behind. In one of his more lucid moments, Victor contemplated the possibility that his and the mountain’s production of fury, magma, fire, smoke, and a dozen other related Energies was possible because their actions consumed the other attuned Energies in that world. Victor could hardly find a trace of death, for instance, and the ground was so torn and scorched that he had to fly far and wide to spot a single patch of grass or a tree. Was his magic annihilating the nature- and water-attuned Energies? Was the mountain’s expulsion of smoke cannibalizing the very air?

In the end, Victor didn’t care. His goal was the destruction of that place, and so he carried on for hours and days, flying in an ever-widening circle, liquifying mile upon mile of bedrock and tearing the ground in vast fissures that stretched for a hundred miles in every direction. The air grew hot—too hot to sustain most life. The oxygen grew thin, and what little water there was steamed away into vapor that struggled to exist in the smoke-filled atmosphere.

Victor’s fury never let up. His Spirit Core swelled to bursting, and his Breath Core advanced through several stages, though no System existed in that universe to quantify his gains for him. He’d learned of the System’s absence when he’d tried to look at his status sheet—nothing came to him. Naturally, he’d been surprised. The System had existed on Dark Ember; why would it not hitch a ride into Xelhuan’s new universe? The only thing he could think of was that the Death Caster had resisted it somehow—blocked it out. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

As Victor cast perhaps his thousandth Wake the Earth and the world around him erupted into fiery chaos, he contemplated Xelhuan; the ancient undead Quinametzin hadn’t tried to fight him. Other than a few whispered threats on the wind, he’d been absent while Victor did his fiery work. At some point, Victor assumed the Death Caster would make a last-ditch attempt to stop or slay him. His destruction was nearly complete, though; he could see the void of nothingness beyond the edge of Xelhuan’s miniature, flat world. Where was the Death Caster?

Still aflame with rage, his vision red, his breaths blazing with the magma that coursed through his pathways, Victor found his ire shifting away from the world he’d nearly broken back to his ancient ancestor. Was he mocking him? Was he watching him smash and destroy from the shadows, only to behave as though it didn’t matter? Of course, that thought opened a crack in the shell of his rage, and some fear slipped in, taking the slithering, worm-like guise of paranoia. What if he was wasting his time? What if nothing he did to this world could unravel Xelhuan’s magic holding it together?

Victor turned toward his mountain ally and poured Energy into his wings, streaking through the smoke, gliding through hot updrafts. His eyes and lungs were attuned to the fiery, ash-filled air, so he was unbothered as he tore through the atmosphere. When he reached the mountain, a wide smile stretched across his lips. The stone façade was gone, and rivers of lava ran from near the peak in every direction down to a lake that stretched for fifty or more miles. The mountain’s roots had been exposed by the constant quakes, but the chasms and caverns there were filled with molten stone.

Nothing could live within those fire-filled depths save creatures born of lava and meant to thrive in it—creatures like lava kings or certain breeds of wyrm. No such beings existed on Xelhuan’s world, however. Victor knew this because his veil walker’s senses could extend along those rivers of magma into the roots of the world; he felt them almost as plainly as he felt his fingers. He circled the mountain, stretching out his senses.

Despite his fury and his single-minded pursuit of destruction, a part of Victor’s mind knew he was hiding behind his rage, using it as a shield against his…less confident side. Xelhuan’s whispers had reached him on some level, and in the deepest depths of his psyche, Victor wondered what would happen to him if—when—he destroyed the world.

Could anything exist in the null-space between universes? It didn’t seem likely, though he could only speculate. Was it any different from the void of space? Would he be able to find a way to the spirit plane? Could he escape that way? He planned to slay Xelhuan, didn’t he? The Death Caster’s spirit would have to go somewhere.

Those questions were secondary to the more pressing matter of actually destroying the place. Over the days of his destructive rampage, he’d begun to bend the flows of Energy to his will. He wasn’t sure exactly how to dismantle Xelhuan’s world, but he had a good idea of how he could usurp it. Perhaps the Death Caster could feel it too. Perhaps he recognized that Victor and the mountain were wiping out his Energy, and perhaps he could sense Victor asserting his will upon the flows. Whatever the reason, Xelhuan showed himself at last.

With a rumbling crack that split the air, overwhelming the sounds of distant earthquakes and the hiss and susurration of the lava, the top quarter of the volcano separated from the mountain, lifting aloft on a cloud of green miasma. Where before Victor had been unable to detect any Death Energy, it suddenly flared like a beacon of decay. Xelhuan had been consolidating his reserves.

As lava bubbled forth from the broken mountain, the top floated higher and higher as the remaining stone and dirt fell away, revealing a massive granite orb inscribed with a million green-glowing runes. The orb was hollow at the center—the gold-lined well Victor had seen at the center of the former pyramid’s apex. As he approached it, determined in his fury to smash it to pieces, the massive vessel rotated so that the central eye faced him. Victor brandished Lifedrinker, but he felt a surge of Energy and then a beam of pure death-attuned Energy erupted from that golden hollow.

It moved nearly as fast as light, that beam, and Victor barely had time to raise Lifedrinker, placing her edge in its path, before it struck. She split the beam, her polished surface too glossy, too dense for it to penetrate. Nevertheless, much of that foul Energy got past her and blasted Victor. His aegis absorbed the baleful ray, but even that mighty artifact was overwhelmed, and the Energy-steeped carapace came apart as the death ray penetrated, wilting Victor’s flesh, drilling into his bones, and corrupting the very marrow within.

He’d been hit with death Energy before. He’d had his flesh decay and slough off before his eyes, but this was something else. The miasmic effect was inside him, poisoning his blood, killing his organs and even bleeding into his Core in its attempt to poison his very spirit. Victor fell from the sky as his wings flickered and died.

Another beam came at him as he tumbled, striking him squarely in the thigh. His greaves were no match for the concentrated death Energy and nearly the full force penetrated, rotting his flesh and corrupting his bones. His leg wilted and, when he splashed down in the lake of lava, it came apart like ash. Victor sank into the fiery embrace of the molten lake while Xelhuan’s laughter echoed through the fabric of his world.

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Victor felt the corruption spreading through his flesh, but he didn’t cry out or give in to panic. Perhaps Xelhuan celebrated because he didn’t quite understand what Victor was. Perhaps, despite his repeated use of magma-attuned Energy the ancient Quinametzin was so full of haughty pride that he couldn’t imagine a being that could withstand his corruption while burning to death in a pool of super-heated molten stone.

Victor was guilty of a single moment of despair when he felt the withering corruption reach his heart and rot it into a shriveled knot of dead flesh. But he drove the fear from his mind, exerting his potent will as he remembered who he was—what he was. Xelhuan was an undead Quinametzin—a titan, true, but one a thousand generations removed from the original titans that had roamed the primordial Earth. Where Xelhuan had spurned his heritage, embracing undeath instead, Victor had delved into his, awakening the roots of his ancestry.

So, as he sank, Victor opened his eyes, peering into the fiery world. He smiled at the yellow-orange world, remembering his time battling lava kings in Du’s dungeon. Almost defiantly, he inhaled, drawing the fiery molten stone into his lungs. His softer, more tender flesh burned at first, but he regenerated quickly and, as he embraced the Energy in the lava, he continued to adapt. His flesh was that of a primordial titan, after all—the very essence of adaptability was part of its makeup.

He drew the fire from the lake, soaking it into his flesh, propagating it through his cells until it reached Xelhuan’s corruption and annihilated it. Immediately, his flesh began to regenerate, but Victor wasn’t satisfied. He’d tasted the fury and power in that lava, and it had awakened something in him, igniting the potential-attuned Energy in his cells. As he sank, he continued to draw the lava into himself—not just the Energy, but the matter itself. He swelled with it; his bones grew thicker, denser, and longer. His muscles, tendons—every part of him—expanded as his pure titanic nature converted the lake’s fiery materials into his own flesh.

In the depths of that molten lake, Victor was born anew—a true titan.

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Arona looked out from her command tower, the highest structure in the Citadel, at the vastly altered landscape. Arcus had been right, of course: with the combined power of all the Elementalists in the legions along with the steel seekers and veil walkers who’d remained behind, protecting the citadel from the calamity hadn’t even been all that difficult—time consuming and exhausting, yes, but nothing they couldn’t manage.

The waves and storms had persisted for weeks, and though Arona had sent the bulk of the soldiers off-world, through the gate in the bedrock depths of the citadel, the halls and courtyards had been crowded and less than comfortable. When she’d awakened that morning and seen the sun in the eastern sky, it had felt as though a tremendous weight had slid from her shoulders.

It wasn’t that she’d ever been frightened; having the gateway readily accessible took away the strain of personal risk. Still, she and many of the other defenders, Tes and Cora especially, had grown fixated on the idea that the citadel must stand. They were treating it like a beacon for Victor to find his way home, though, in truth, they had no basis in logic for that sentiment.

Nonetheless, relief and pride were the order of the day as she’d traversed the busy halls. Cots and tents were set up in every large space, and the soldiers, who’d all lent their Energy in aid of the citadel’s defense, were bright-eyed and full of laughter in their little camps. Arona tried to enjoy the good cheer, but she couldn’t quiet the voice in the back of her mind that refused to stop whispering, “Where is he? How can his battle have lasted this long? Does he even live?”

The last question worried her the most, though Tes swore she’d know if Victor had died. When they’d spoken that morning, she’d insisted on her belief that he was alive. As though summoned by her thoughts, the blue dragon glided out under the thinning clouds, her scales gleaming with iridescent reflections of the sun’s light. She soared toward the blue sky in the east, and Arona figured she’d fly out toward Xelhuan’s island or, more precisely, the part of the ocean where it used to be. They’d all done so during the storm—those of them who could withstand the buffeting winds—so Arona let her go, feeling no need to see an expanse of empty water once more.

“Speaking of empty water…” she muttered, looking around the citadel. They were no longer on a peninsula. The mighty fortress was now at the center of an island only a few miles in diameter. The waves had taken much of the land back into the sea.

“Milady?” Beshada, one of her aides, asked, stepping out onto the parapet with her. “Did you say something?”

“Nothing of importance. Any word from our scouts?”

“Not yet, milady. They took flight only a few hours ago.”

Arona nodded. “Of course.” They’d sent hundreds of soldiers gifted in various methods of fast travel to survey what they could of the lands they’d conquered—and beyond. With all the “Great Masters” destroyed, Arona was hopeful that most of the undead had been annihilated by the ocean’s wrath.

Something from below caught her eye, and she stepped closer to the parapet, looking down into the central courtyard. Many soldiers were there milling about, but she spied what had grabbed her attention: Edeya and Lam, their wings glittering, stood near the World Tree sapling. Arona smiled when she realized Cora was with them.

The tree had become something of a symbol of hope during the dark days of the wave’s embrace. It was good to see it thriving in the newly emerged sunlight. Arona wondered about that—the sun. How long would it have remained hidden by storms if not for the Elementalists working their magic night and day?

“Milady, will you venture forth today?”

She turned to her aide, shaking her head. He was a lanky giant from Ruhn, and very proper—very well-groomed. “What about you, Beshada? Are you eager to return home?”

“In a way, aye, though I don’t miss my father’s constant judgement. At least I’ll have a story to tell when I see him. I doubt he’s ever lived through a world-swallowing wave.”

Arona offered him a small smile. She understood all-too-well the desire to impress someone seen as an authority figure. “It was quite something, wasn’t it? The things in the water outside the Elementalists’ shields. I’ve never seen such strange creatures.”

“Oh, aye, milady! Some of them were larger than Lady Tes’s natural form.”

Arona nodded. “Indeed.” She gestured to the tower doors. “If you want to take leave, now would be fine. I’ve plenty of aides still here. It might be wise to go before some of the others come clamoring.”

To her surprise, Beshada shook his head, pressing his lips firmly together. “No, ma’am. I’ll be here to see Lord Victor’s return.”

The words were touchingly hopeful, but for some reason they brought tears to Arona’s eyes, and she quickly looked away, clearing her throat. “Well, that’s certainly your right.”

“I’ll leave you to your thoughts, milady. If you need me, I’ll be outside the walls for a while. I think a stroll in the sunlight is just what I need.”

“Good, Beshada. Do that. We’re lucky our defenses spared some of the grass.” She heard his footsteps departing and exhaled shakily. Arona wasn’t sure what had come over her, but she supposed it was just worry; despite Tes’s confidence, she had her doubts. It wasn’t so much that she had any insights, but rather that she knew how to read people.

All her life, she’d been trained to be quiet and observe. She’d been Vesavo’s right hand through many political machinations, and he’d depended on her to see things in other people he might miss while he maneuvered the throne rooms and parliaments of disparate worlds. That practice had served her well, especially when she’d been guiding Empress Kynna through the intrigues of her newly established imperial court. Unfortunately, it also told her that Tes was lying.

Arona didn’t think the dragon was trying to deceive anyone so much as herself. Tes wanted to believe she’d feel something if Victor died, but Arona had seen the tells of deception—quick glances to the side as she spoke, nervous swallows, her right hand clutching her left arm as she hugged herself whenever the topic of Victor’s absence came up. Arona had thought long and hard on the subject, and she believed Tes would have known if Victor died—in this world. On another world, however? Another universe? Tes hoped she’d feel it, but she wasn’t certain… at least, that was Arona’s analysis.

With those gloomy, troubling thoughts on her mind, she leaned on the parapet and watched the distant flocks of birds mostly migrating toward the north. She wondered if they’d been flying the entire time the world had been going through its upheaval. Was that possible? It seemed amazing to her that those mundane creatures could have survived, but there they were. “Life finds a way…” she muttered, finding some comfort in the simple notion.