There is truly no set way to drag power out of one’s own soul. Anassa herself does not share and the claims she makes I suspect are kept deliberately vague. Cynicism within me wishes to state that Anassa wants to keep the power a secret for herself yet… Well, a more optimistic part of me remembers the Aggriyana that came before Anassa. The woman had an insatiable thirst for power, I think all Divines who came to hear her case share this opinion, it was obvious that there was something wrong in her.

Yet that wrongness is what made the Goddess of Magic that had stood before her on that fated day take solace upon her. Aggriyana cared not for governance or dominance or morality, she wanted power for power’s sake. I remember her words. “Let me show how far a human can be pushed, and let me serve as the example. Other men can build upon mountains Goddess, but mountains must be scaled first.” Power for Power’s sake. Power to push magic into a new era and power with willingness to serve as the pinnacle, until a new pinnacle was found. Aggriyana possessed a hunger that wanted to defeat not humanity nor divinity but possibility itself. She wanted to prove and do something that had never been done.

Yet Aggriyana was not Anassa and Anassa was not Aggriyana. When the woman returned from her own journey, she shared nothing. Her inquisitiveness and curiosity were gone. Her personality had been subsumed entirely by idle trivialities or by an insatiable lust to press on further. Yet that “further”, whatever Anassa imagined it to be, would not be the greatest achievement we had made with the discovery of traversing the soul realm.

Whilst we still were master and pupil, and whilst we were partners in a joined quest, the most I have discovered about the soul-realm is from interrogating Anassa’s sorcerers behind her back. The reports that try to be the most detailed are those that are the most nonsensical. The reports which sound as if they have the most meaning are the most abstract. Some men talk of needing to face demons of vice and whim, others talk of shifting landscapes that threatened to swallow them. For every soul that says courage is the answer, there is another that says they just gave up. For every one who claims they stood against an endless hordes of their own hatred made manifest, there is another that says they gave up and were swallowed by dark oceans or carried away by rapids over the waterfall. I have listened to men talk of splitting the world, of slaying their parents, of hunting wolves. One case was even described as a man who could not rise out of bed.

There is only one similarity. I do not think it is a case of the soul-realm. I think it is a case of Anassa. All men who awaken sorcery within them talk that the first hurdle to overcome was that they awakened in a room. A room of elders from which they were promptly rejected from.

All I know is that Anassa had only entered her own once. It did not matter what plans we had or what questions were posed or what. Once and never again. It was not to be discussed.

– Excerpt from “The World Immaterial, an analysis of Sorcery and Magic.” Written by Goddess Elassa, of Magic shortly after her Goddess Anassa declared Sorcery as an independent immaterial art. Kept in the Closed Library of Arcadia, the only person to have ever read the book bar the author was Goddess Anassa, of Sorcery, during her imprisonment within the Library.

Arascus looked at Anassa. Anassa looked at Arascus. The four who had tried healing Baalka had been in there for forty minutes now. Forty minutes of being trapped within the Goddess of Disease, forty minutes of whatever they were going through on the inside. And now? If they had not gotten out. Should they not be out by now? But then what were they even doing?

“Do you think they know how to get out?” Arascus asked. Baalka still lay nude on that table. The lights above shone bright. They were in the centre of Iniri’s tree. And they would be in the centre of Iniri’s tree until either seven souls walked out of here together. Anassa had to think for a moment. That was rare.

“Elassa should be able to do it immediately if she has magic.” The pursed lips of consternation did more explaining than anything else his daughter could say.

“And if she can’t?” Those pursed lips did the answer.

The explanation was terribly abstract, yet Arascus had talked with Anassa about this enough to know that she was being serious. “If she can’t paint her imagination over Baalka’s, then she’ll lose it.” Arascus stared at Anassa. Anassa stared at Arascus. The Goddess pursed her lips and swung her hands, swaying that red dress of silk from side to side. Her crimson eyes looked down at the floor. “I know what you’re going to say.” She said. Arascus remained silent. “I didn’t tell her.”

The God took a deep breath. A failure on her part? Well yes. Of course. The whole point of having a preparatory meeting before this had been to share all the information they had on the subject. But then who had predicted this situation to happen? It had gone smoothly with Maisara. Anassa’s lips shook and she looked up at Arascus. Arascus didn’t know if those eyes were capable of sparkling, much less crying, but when he looked at the woman before him, he saw not the Goddess of Sorcery but a scared little girl. Or as scared as Anassa could let herself be. She talked flatly, her eyes were sharp and her gaze flat. This woman could look at the end of the world and shrug. “Have I killed them?”

Arascus gave her a hug. She needed it. “Not until I’ve seen their bodies.” He said gently and Anassa wrapped her hands around his arms.

“Mmh.” She said. “Thank you.”

And then Arascus pulled away. As much as he would like to Anassa again, they still had a situation on their hands. It was his failure that he had not thought of this contingency and it was his failure that he had not ordered Anassa to tell Elassa in the first place. “How long do they have?”

If there was one thing that Arascus rarely expected out of Anassa’s mouth, it was the answer she replied with. “I don’t know.”

“Not even an inkling?”

“The soft cut-off is two days because that’s when dehydration starts swallowing the mind. The hard cut-off is until death.” Anassa said. “But that’s a human going into themselves. That’s not four Divines going into another.”

Uncharted territory. Arascus took a step away and started pacing around the room. This wasn’t the first time they were in uncharted territory. To think it never got any better. “What would we need to awake Baalka?”

“Only Baalka will know that.” Anassa said and smiled at Arascus. It was a slow, sad smile. “I honestly can’t give a better explanation than that.”

Arascus grabbed her hand. “What about when you went in?” Anassa opened her mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it. Her lips trembled. Her eyes went wide. She made a tiny shake of her head. Arascus did not let go. He squeezed tighter until Anassa finally gave the most meagre explanation she could.

“I proved I was the best.” Anassa whispered quietly. “That was all.”

“Mmh.” Arascus let go. He would talk over this later with her. “Have you ever sent a person into a person?”

“We tried it early.” Anassa said.

“We?”

“Me and Elassa near the start. It never worked. She called it off. I stopped believing it was possible.” The sigh was heavy. “It wasn’t insanity, they’d just die. Minds stop working after a point.” Arascus glanced down at Baalka. Her pale stomach was still rising up and down.

“She’s not dead yet.” Options were beginning to run out. They couldn’t wake her with Kavaa here, what could they do without her here? One-by-one, Arascus saw the roads leading off the highway they were going slowly begin to rot and crumble away. “Do you think they have any shot?”

“Kass is there.” Anassa said hopefully. “And it’s Kass.” Exactly. Only Anassa herself would have been worse and that was debatable.

“That’s why I’m worried.” Arascus said.

“Because of Kass?” The shift in tone came immediately.

“Because of Kass.” Arascus said. “Forty minutes Anassa. Forty minutes she’s been in there and that’s if time travels the same.”

“But…” Anassa said quietly, her eyes going to Baalka. The Goddess of Disease still breathed, there had not been a change. “Give them time, I trust them.”

Arascus took a deep breath. To say anything more would be beating a dead horse. The woman had been out of prison for less than two years and she had been behind the attempted razing of the Jungle and then the subsequent Continent Cracking when the first plan had proved too slow. What were they going to do? Wait until Baalka started overheating? Wait until she bled? Would it not be too late by then? How many times had Kassandora been left off the leash? How many times did she make a mess that he had clean up? That was the implicit contract, Arascus had known what Kassandora was she was when he took her on as a daughter. He would let her be whatever she wanted to be, and he would be there to make sure there was still a world left over. “No.” Arascus said, he was the authority in this family. Anassa could have her reservations but someone had to take responsibility.

Mortals talked about it all the time. The pain of inaction was better than the pain of action. It was better to try and fail. A parent would give anything. All of it. And mortals only had to carry such burdens for at most, a dozen decades. If that is how it crushed them, then millennia? Progress was made from other’s mistakes. When one man fell of the cliff, the others did not have to check how high the drop was.

Arascus would not let it happen. “How dangerous would it be to go in?” Anassa pursed her lips. She gave the worst answer imaginable.

“I don’t know. Please…”

He cut her off. “How long would it take for you to send me and for me to reach them?”

“I don’t know but…” Anassa was interrupted by Arascus sitting down by Baalka’s head. He leaned his head back against his daughter’s head. Her hair, the sickly dark that had just a shade of green brushed his cheeks and stubble.

“Send me in.” He trusted Anassa true, she was daughter, she would not lie to him. She shouldn’t at the very least.

“Don’t take anything with you on the way back.” Anassa said as Arascus prepared to lie down. The most surprising was that it was a flat instruction. What exactly was he supposed to take anyway? Anassa slowly came to his side. Her hand hovered just off his forehead.

“Anything else?”

“I mean it literally. Don’t take anything with you.” Well, that presented a problem within itself. “Don’t let anything come with you. Just…” Arascus reached up grabbed Anassa’s, gently guiding it to his forehead.

“I love you Ana.” Arascus said. “You and Kass are the daughters I worry most for. I want it to be said.”

“Don’t say that.” Anassa replied. A drop of wetness dampened Arascus’ head. Arascus would not shame her by watching her cry, not now. “It sounds like you’re not going to come back.”

“I have plenty more to say.” Arascus said. “Now send me in.”

Anassa’s palm touched his forehead.

The world went dark.

– – –

Kassandora grabbed her sword blade with one hand as she watched the desert that had been expanding around Kavaa slowly reach its limit. Lifeless sands burst out with amalgamating, poisonous flora or were swallowed by huge swamps which gave birth to more cells, and then they crumbled away as Kavaa’s power of life cured creatures fashioned entirely into sickness. They wilted like flowers, tossing and turning, Kassandora was sure they would scream for a moment if they had mouths with which to speak.

She was going fast. She knew she was going fast. It was happening again. She looked to Elassa. The Goddess of Magic was frozen in fear. Useless. Kavaa was sweating heavily. This was going to be harder than keeping men immortal. Kassandora hated that she thought such a thing, but then Kavaa would be useless too. Above them, Neneria was watching everything from ghastly Pegaz. The horse stood in the sky and watched the sky above them. Night had come over them. A night disgusting and sickly, with all the colours of dark green malaise and brown rot, with stars that were globules of pus and rain that was borderline sentient. It fell from the sky in swarms that turned and twisted and aimed directly for the small group of four. It shot across the desert, and it faded away as Kavaa’s essence tried to fight back against all Disease.

And now the peak had been reached. Every moment they waited, they were losing ground.

Kassandora had seen too many battles to know how this would end. Baalka was a sister. They loved each other. They would die for each other. But… “NENERIA! COME DOWN HERE NOW!” Kassandora barked the order.

From above, Neneria replied in a voice that finally was beginning to tremble. “I am overwhelming Kass.” Neneria said again. “My mind is stronger than hers. I wipe her out.”

“It’s the four of us Neneria or it’s her!” Kassandora screamed the command at her eldest sister. “It’s the fucking four of us. Will you carry that responsibility? Do you want to see what death is like that much?!” It was a low blow, sometimes soldiers needed low blows to start digging the damn trench though.

“And if she dies? I don’t want to kill her.”

“It’s not your choice to make.” Kassandora commanded back as Elassa curled up into a ball, mumbling and starting to cry. Kavaa was breathing heavily. Her arms weren’t as steady as they had been at the start. “It’s not your responsibility Neneria. You are not the commander here.”

It had been like this all the time. In the Great War, Baalka had been against the plague animals until Kassandora took it as her responsibility. Neneria had been against conscription of the dead until Kassandora carried the weight. Anassa and Fer had devilishly horrified themselves with beastmen, and Kassandora added the burden of their mass creation onto her back. Even fucking Irinika had been against certain plans until she found a sister which could bear the weight of the crimes. When Elassa singlehandedly split a continent, who was called responsible?

And if they had to kill one Goddess to save four, then the choice was made without thought. Kassandora shouldn’t have dragged this on for so long.

She had told Kavaa to slow her down.

She had said the same to Neneria.

Elassa was a damn child not worth even considering right now.

They knew what they were doing. If they wanted to slow her down. They should have started barking orders around in the first place. They didn’t though. They just looked to the glorious Goddess of War to drag them all out of this damn situation. And Kassandora would drag. “I don’t want to kill Baalka.” Neneria said quietly, her horse came close to the ground.

“It was my order. You’re doing nothing. Stand on the fucking ground and do as you’re told.”

She loved Baalka. She would die for Baalka. She knew she would. And Baalka would do the same. The death of a sibling was a terrible weight to carry. It would be yet another rock on her soul.

The mountain eclipsed the sun at this point.

Simply put, it didn’t make a difference.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep