Whats old is made new (Paragon)

[Lyra]

34th of Searing, 122 AS

Location: The Hobbled Gobbler
Time: 11:37 am

The world was Chaos, and Lyra could do nothing else but watch the story unfold from inside the warded Tavern. She stood next to the glass windows at the front of the common room, watching impassively as Rickter and Franky took up their positions and defended the Gobbler from monsters that appeared from the mists. They were deformed, twisted things that snarled in a bestial way that somehow seemed more feral than the the wild creatures that that roamed the forests of the Forge. A glance over her shoulder showed a different scene. The inside of the tavern was still, the juxtaposition jarring compared to the scene outside. The scheme held, the wards were secure, and Lyra had seen to her end of the oath.

She had not noticed it when the explosions rocked the world, but there was something in the air. It came with the mist, and as time past only seemed to grow stronger. Her eyes unconsciously searched the misty landscape, but the source of the prickling sensation along her skin was no where to be seen. It felt so familiar, terribly familiar in a way that made her skin crawl, and memories tried to surface but burst once they barely brushed her conscious thoughts. Clinical, or perhaps sterile was how she would describe it, like that feeling before slipping under the healers knife, but without the comfort that one would awaken on the other side.

"I will pray to the dark one that you survive this day." Lyra whispered, looking back out the window toward Franky, "I will come to collect what is owed in time."

Turning away from the cracked glass of the window Lyra walked behind the counter, ignoring the people in the room save for one man in a worn coat who followed her with his eyes. She motioned to him, and he cane to join her in a small corner between the door to the kitchen and a cask of ale. They stood inside a small circle that was barely 3 feet in diameter, close enough to make lovers blush, but Lyra paid it no mind. The man set his hand on her shoulder, and with a flash of magic they were gone.

*****

Location: Beneath the Presidium, Second Deep of the Warrens

It felt as if she would never escape the Warrens, destined to always return to the place of her imprisonment. It would have been humorous if it were not so ironic. They appeared in one of the earth territories of the 2nd Deep, great towering trees formed a natural ring, and the ground was covered by lush vegetation which has been cut down to make room for the stone slabs that created a circular platform at the center of the grove. Pillars covered in pictographs created a ring around the slab, large Aetherite shards embedded in their centers.

This was the culmination of Lyra's mastery, this stage which marked the center of a vast array which spread across the entirety of the city of Zaichaer. The pictographs which covered the pillars and slab were more vast and complex than anything Lyra had created on the surface. At the very center of the slab there was a circle, simplistic compared to the rest of the schema which surrounded it, but it resonated with the entire structure almost naturally. Inside of this circle there was a rune, the mark of Vitalis... Or rather, the mark of the Kyntori. It was similar to the rune Venetia showed Lyra that day a season passed, but there were slight changes. Minor strokes that altered the shape, and meaning in nearly imperceptible ways. As she approached and stood over that mark Lyra felt an ache in her soul, and her eyes narrowed at the half memories of the day when her life had changed forever.

[Paragon]

Quietly busy around the entirety of the runic circle, were the various witches and mages given to Lyra to support her endeavor. None of them were under any illusion as to the mystery of their work at the moment. Quite a few of them hailed from the noble houses of her patron. They knew exactly what Lyra’s intentions were and every one of them had volunteered to assist her in her work. The bitter rage of seething vengeance burned in their hearts. It had created a passion in them that had aided in their spellwork as they worked under her direction. They continued setting up the various nodes that would assist in powering the elaborate spell that would soon be enacted. They were familiar with their tasks. They knew what their mistress needed and they saw to it with the efficiency that was to be expected of them. Gold, dragonshards, a mountain of resources had been given to her in order to complete this great work.

“It is an impressive array.” Venetia Childs lifted the skirt of her robes, peering at the immense latticework of spells carved upon every visible surface. There was no mockery in her voice. Quite the opposite, she was staring at the entire schema with a wondrous appreciation for the work of a master.

“It is inadequate.” A voice cut through the quiet bustle of activity. It was unclear whether the voice was male or female. Venetia’s head snapped in the direction of the source.

From out the shadows of one of the great trees stepped a figure dressed in stark white. From head to toe they were covered in pristine white clothing. Upon their face was the mask of a plague doctor with every inch of their skin concealed beneath ghostly white cloth. Two pitch black lenses covered the figure’s eyes, concealing even their eye color. Venetia and the various assistants rounded on the newcomer. Some immediately conjuring fireballs, others clearly ready to unleash their powers upon the figure in white. The white clothed figure merely tilted their head.

“You require assistance. Your schema is flawed. I have come to correct it.” Venetia looked to Lyra, clearly awaiting her signal as to whether or not to attack or comply.

[Lyra]

Looking up from the work at Venetia's words Lyra smiled. It was impressive. Some would say it was a masterwork, a totality of her last 2 years of freedom, a heritage which brought together the old with the new. A small part of her felt pride, a larger part utter satisfaction at seeing all she had done come together at last. Her goal was at hand, and finally she would be whole again. The gathered withes all worked efficiently, and their eagerness to be guided by her instruction overcame any lack of talent or skill they might have had. This age truly lacked in the refinement of her time, but with Lyra to guide their work there was little doubt of their success. That was why when the newcomer spoke the world seemed to freeze.

"Adequate?" Lyra whispered, smile gone as she turned to face the person who had spoken. Her face grew blank, but inside pent up anger began to bubble. This was a masterpiece, a work that Lyra herself did not hesitate to call one of the greatest works she had ever done. By what right did this person think they could judge her art lacking. Golden eyes glittered dangerously as she turned to face the man in white, "Child, mind your words lest they cost you more than your pride. What flaw could you..."

Words died on her lips and a chill crawled up her spine as she faced the man fully. Something old, deeply ingrained in her held her anger in restraint, and suddenly she remembered where that familiar feeling was from.

*****

In a white room there was man dressed all in white. He stood, straight backed and tall before a counter where an odd frog-like creature was strapped to a metal table. Lyrielle never liked visiting this one, but they were asked, and so they came. As a dark mist they flowed into the stark world of clinical sterility, and as their whispers filled the space the man looked up.

"Ah, it's.... Which are you today?" He looked back down at the creature that struggled feebly against its restraints, "Number 9, 6, maybe 4?"

Lyrielle truly disliked this man, and her whispers grew louder as she slowly filled the room and flowed in steady circles around him, turning his white room to black.

"We come as asked, but not of our own desire." From the dark smoke Lyrielle formed a body, naked with silver hair flowing freely as if under water. Though she smiled, it did not reach her golden eyes, "Speak Do'celer, and we shall grant you what you wish... for a price."

"Number 2." the man said matter-of-factly. With a swift motion he held the frog's head in place with one hand and plucked out one of its eyes with gloved fingers. The thing made no sound as it writhed.

"This is a creature I found on the other side of one of the few remaining Rift Gates near Al'teron. It hunts its prey by tracking their lifeforce through waters so black that it is impossible to tell up from down." He held up the eye for Lyrielle to see, "What do you think would happen if this eye were transplanted in an Orkhan?"

Lyrielle shrugged indifferently, already growing bored of the conversation and steadily floating up into a lounging position. The man continued unperturbed.

"Likely the eye would be rejected, but we will not know until we try." Partially removing the plain white mask there was a popping sound as the eye in his hand was replaced by one with a green iris and the mask was moved back into place. Rolling his neck a moment he then looked at Lyrielle, "I need more samples. I am told there will be a raid in the north in two days. Bring me a few new subjects then."

"Very well... But what shall you give us in return?" Lyrielle flowed closer, running a long nailed hand along the left eyehole of the mask, leaning in close as if trying to peer at the eye inside.

"Let us say a favor. I will repay you one day." he waved a hand that past through Lyrielle, dispelling her like smoke after which she reformed a distance away with a pout.

"Then we will remember this promise."

*****

The memory was fractured and fuzzy, and things such as the items in the room and even what she had been doing that day were lost on her, but she remembered that conversation. But that was over 10,000 years ago, before she was imprisoned, and long before the final battle. That thing should have fallen the day she was shattered, for Lyrielle could not imagine the king of gods showing mercy on a creature that did as many atrocities as this one had. Yet still... if it were an even slight possibility, she knew that the man in white would have found away.

Lyra extended a hand and waved for those who readied spells to lower them. They did not realize it, but the moment he appeared they were already dead, or worse. She did not immediately answer, but closed her eyes and breathed in a deep breath. When she opened them again Lyra was placed aside. She would only get in the way.

A smile slowly returned as Lyrielle stepped off the platform, loosening the ties of her robes and undoing the tight braid in her hair.

"We felt you in the air, and heard you in the melodies above." Lyrielle tone shifted as she spoke in the ancient tongue, her words almost lyrical as if she were close to singing, "You survived. Perhaps we should congratulate you?"

Black smoke flowed from her outstretched palms and the souls of her feet, staying low to the ground but filling the entirety of the clearing. She ran a soothing song through the whispers, lowering apprehension, but not decreasing their wariness. Lyrielle stopped a few short steps from the man and clasped her hands behind her back, leaning forward slightly to study the masked man curiously.

"Tell us, what is this flaw you see in our work?" Her tone was neutral, but the indignation was layered close to the surface. That was a part of Lyra she could not suppress, a fact which came with some annoyance to Lyrielle herself. The man in white, a genius in an age of geniuses, no matter how bitter the taste was, Lyrielle knew that if he said there was a flaw in her work... he was likely correct.

Fucking asshole. Lyra growled mentally, to which Lyrielle mentally shushed her arrogance.

[Paragon]

The Man in White waved away her congratulations then reached into his robes. He withdrew a solid black stylus that was tipped with a standard aetherite dragon gem. He moved over to the nearest pillar without waiting for leave to begin working. He stepped up to one of the scripts and began writing in controlled and swift motions. His hand moved at an unnatural speed that was unsettling to look at. It was almost as if he were processing the information faster than his body was capable of moving. Nevertheless, the script that he wove was remarkably simple but it enacted a blending of not just one but three different forms of World Magic. Suddenly the pictographs were not simply works of Scrivening, they began to incorporate elements of Alchemy, seamlessly blending together the manifestations of both traditional and occult alchemy. He finished by linking the glyphs of that first pillar together and tying them to the main control circle.

Wordlessly he stepped up to the next pillar and began his work once more. This time Lyrielle and Lyra would immediately be able to recognize symbols of Necromancy but they were not just the symbols of the Soul as Lyra was most familiar with. This man began to weave together scripts built into the Way of Flesh but most prominently, they featured detailed patterns linked to the Way of Remembering, specifically, the Remembering of Lyra and the unification of her flesh with the memories that needed to be awakened within the blurred parts of her soul. Lyra herself became a Remembered Artefact but one that was in full control of the parts she could awaken in herself.

He moved on to the next pillar. This he began to alter in order to incorporate the works of Artificing. The body that Lyra constructed for herself would become a temporary golem of flesh, empty and waiting for her to fill it with the knowledge both awakened in her and already existing within her soul. As she filled it, it would become intricately linked to the fabric of the body that she built for herself removing the necessity for her to become familiar with how to live, move and breathe as a physical mortal again. Most importantly however, it incorporated the weave of the state she already existed in, opening up a pathway for the flesh golem and her ensuing true body to be able to shift between various material states without harm.

He then went to the central control circle and began his work without comment. Immediately, Lyra would be able to recognize symbols she had seen used in Runeforging. These, however, were flawless. Written with a delicate precision that was almost captivating to watch. He worked around her central control circle and did something utterly remarkable, he turned the control circle not just into a station wherein the power of Vitalis would be used to help rebuild Lyra’s body, he turned it into a forge. A forge where something incredible and, until that point, had only be theoretical, became not only possible but completely within reach given the amount of raw power and resources she intended to channel. It gave Lyra the power to reforge her soul from a broken state into one that was stable and complete and upon closer inspection…it would give her the power to accept more Runes of Magic.

He stood up from his work. He had worked silently and without pause for nearly thirty minutes. Altering and reweaving the spellwork around him with an unnatural speed that had been uncomfortable to look at.

“Your approach was not without merit. I trust you now see where your deficiencies were.” He tucked his stylus back into his robes. He clasped his hands behind his back and began making his way out of the ritual space.

“My debt is paid, Lyrielle. Perhaps you will make good use of it.” Venetia watched him leave as if she wasn’t quite sure what she had just witnessed.

“Who was that?” She looked to Lyra.

[Lyra]

Lyra was still angry, but that anger faded to confusion, and then amazement as the man in white began to work. Lyrielle trailed behind him, like a shadow or perhaps an apprentice eager to see what their master would do. As the pictographs began to take shape understanding crept into her mind, and suddenly, and with some chagrin, Lyra realized that her design was flawed. The foundations of the other world magics were laid into the array already, for that was how the resources would be deconstructed and funneled toward the center circle... but what he did took into account things that Lyra had never considered. The combination of the world magics seemed obvious now as she looked at them. She was constructing a golem of flesh, controlling it as she would a body, but the construct itself would need to do things that she had not been required to do for centuries. Breathing, eating, naturally processing energy and waste. She had not considered... And the additional aspects of Necromancy's way of flesh AND Remembering? It was so obvious now that Lyra felt she would die of shame.

Arrogance from two years as an adult among children has blinded us. Lyrielle thought to herself, the words giving little reassurance to the parts of her that were Lyra. She had spent the last two years of freedom feeling as if she were utterly above the people of this age playing at magic, when in fact she was simply a larger fish in a much smaller pond.

Master of the Scripts indeed. Lyra mused, a wan smile crossing her lips as the man in white finished. Even with the display of expertise, Lyra felt anger, but from embarrassment more than insult now.

"We accept the payment, and release you from our debt." Lyrielle said with a broad grin and a curtsey, a full and proper one fitting the royal courts of Sol'Valen, "You have reminded us of many things."

Lyra watched him as he left, but soon turned her eyes to the finished circle. Stepping back up onto the platform her eyes quickly scanned the work, and she spun in a circle reading each of the pillars in turn. It was more than complete. It was perfected, and with a sudden realization, she paused and stared down at the central glyph. Without even speaking to her he had constructed what she had truly needed and truly desired since she first was freed. Kneeling, Lyra traced a line that had been added by the man in white, a welling emotion of... Something too large, too hot to describe overcame her, and she closed her eyes against it.

She had almost forgotten others were there until Venetia spoke. Standing and brushing off her robs Lyra turned to look at Venetia and then toward the forest where he had gone.

"Do'celer, the name I called him, was not his true name but a title he earned from his works." Looking down again she continued, "In the common tongue he was known as the Medicine Man, the Mad Alchemist, he who kills and revives, the Wise Man of Fel'nirn, and more commonly the Man in White. Of all the generals of the Dark One's army, it was he that I was most wary of."

Motioning for Venetia to join her Lyra pointed out some of the changes the man in white made, "If the name Lyrielle made mothers fear for their children, the Man in White made nations tremble. He was, and is, a genius of ages, one even I will grudgingly admit far surpasses me... for now."

A hint of fire, or perhaps an old rivalry lit in Lyra's golden eyes then, "It would have worked perfectly before, but now the schema is perfected beyond mastery. It is completed in totality." The man in white always had a talent for getting things to their logical conclusion. In the end, his changes were not improvements, they were exactly what the array needed to be truly complete.

"It is time." Lyra said, stepping down from the slab, "Pull back the workers and tell them to prepare. The first true feat of Archmagic in millennia is about to begin."

[Paragon]

P A R A G O N

Venetia stared after the Man in White as though she had a creeping suspicion of something. Whatever her thought, she must have pushed it aside as she motioned to the rest of the assistants to take their places. The witch then took her own place, not far from the central control circle as she would be giving her powers of Vitalis to add fuel to the ritual. When everyone was in their proper place, she waited for Lyra to take hers.

“I wonder what you will do with it, this body of yours.” That was all Venetia said before she raised her hands and began weaving her aether into the flow of the scripts around her. Forming a perimeter around the massive glyph, the other mages joined her casting as they combined their magic in order to aid in the completion of this work. With Lyra in place, the aether surged forward sending out a rippling reaction across the entire expanse of the great sigil that months of preparation had yielded. As Venetia gathered the power to her, she brought her hands up, aiming them at the central control circle.

“There is no turning back from this.” Venetia’s form was limned with crackling arcane power to such a degree that the bones of her hands and forearms were visible. At Lyra’s signal, Venetia then channeled the power forward. Her role was simple, to act as the guide anchor for the flesh sculpting that was about to take place. Venetia’s power would grant Lyra her body but it would be up to the Whisperer to properly reforge her own soul.

Rumbling power ripped through the Warrens. It followed the lines of each and every pictograph that had been painstakingly drawn since the end of Frost. Lyra would be able to feel it the moment that control and direction of this power was granted to her. It encircled her, framing her body, suffusing her entire form. The next step was one that was already built into the machinery of her design. In order to break the boundaries that had been placed upon her so long ago, in order to demolish the limiters she had been faced with, the veil between the material world and the supreme realm of Ideas would need to be broken.

As Lyra was granted the powers gathered by her great work, the pillars around the ritual circle flared to life and then…then they poured forth the collective energies of all that had been gathered. Column of energy rocketed forth into the skies, breaching the roof of the Second Deep, shattering the ceiling of the First Deep and launching into the open world that the sky would once again be cracked open.

---

34 Searing 122 - 12:17 PM

It began with a rumbling. All across the city of Zaichaer, great symbols of power roared to life. Instantly those people near them were drawn into a swirling vortex of magic that saw them blink out of existence before they could even scream. The world grew dark as a blood red power blanketed the skies as even the chaotic energies of the Dread Mists were pulled into the symbols flaring to life across the entire city. People, beast, chaotic spirits, abominations, all of them were pulled into the streams of power popping up across the city.

And then the quaking began. Great columns of aethereal power erupted out of the ground, blasting through earth and rock and steel. They formed a circle around the Presidium, the seat of Zaichaer’s government. Stunningly, the many barriers placed upon the Presidium flared to life as the conflux of energies fought with one another. It became quickly apparent however, that even the impressive shielding placed around the Presidium was doomed to fail as the crackling towers of energy built in their intensity in conjunction with the vortexes around the city. Finally, the shields cracked and with a thunderous explosion…the Presidium was blasted apart from beneath the earth as the screaming pillar of power split the heavens.

The rift already over the Knob, shuddered and in an instant, a second rift split open over the now destroyed Presidium. It cracked across the skies until it met with the second rift, forming an open chasm in the heavens. The chaos in Zaichaer ascended to new heights and one thing became clear…the city was doomed.

---

Power raced through Lyra. In an instant, thousands…no…hundreds of thousands of souls came screaming into her grasp as they fueled the power of her dark ritual. As the columns broke through to the heavens, a spiraling portal opened up above Lyra. From the deepest recesses of her fragmented memory, there came another memory.

She was in a circle not much different from the one she had built. She had someone important to her. All around her, elven mages were chanting intently. The sky cracked open and she beheld the spiral of a galaxy of possibilities that threatened to swallow her mind, body and soul.

That same universe of possibilities spun before her now.

The time had come.

[Lyra]

As the people ready themselves at their positions, Lyra did the same. A distance away she set down her things, and then sat down herself, watching as the last of the preparations were made. Lyra merely smiled at Venetia's first question. Indeed, what would she do? Perhaps she would dance with her own feet again, or maybe lay with a man, or woman... or both? Perhaps try a bit of the stew that made Naila so weepy. There were so many possibilities, but there was time enough to muse once it was complete. Closing her eyes Lyrielle stirred within her vessel, and then flowed out in a wave of black smoke, spiraling out and around before becoming a spinning mass of darkness at the heart of the circle itself.

There was a brief moment of calm in which Lyra formed her true self, a silver-haired elf with golden eyes who frayed at the edges of her form, ethereal and not really there. She looked down at the hands that would not stay solid, at her legs that could never really form, and then touched a cheek she could not feel. Lyrielle had almost begun to forget, to not notice the oddness of her existence. Never tasting, never smelling, a life which could barely be called living with only a muted relief whenever she possessed a corpse. It had become normal, but suddenly Lyrielle realized how much she truly despised this sort of existence. How much she hated having to use others to touch the world, never able to hold anything of her own.

"We will never go back." Lyrielle whispered a response to Venetia, looking up at the woman and smiling wider that would be possible with a physical form, "We will never be confined again."

The ripple of power surged through the glyphs, the entire array coming to life in a dazzling display of magic, and Lyrielle at its center extended her arms, still smiling as the sizzling energy reverberated around her, and then snap into place at her fingertips. With a breath she opened her eyes wide, feeling the power flow through her, and then she opened the last gate and the energy erupted upward in a tower which blasted through the high ceiling of the second deep and beyond.

Pain seared her mind. In an instant, she was gone from her physical body and linked to the entirety of the city of Zaichaer. She could feel every sigil, touch every line of scrivening she had etched. She could see the creatures in the mist like ants, and she looked past them, through the veil, and into the great expanse of the Aetherium. The voice of thousands of souls screamed as she took ahold of their power, and plunged herself into the vastness that awaited her. Then everything grew quiet.

*****

Darkness and light intermingled in a space that was latticed and fractal. She remembered... Long ago, a person she loved, a person she cared for, and this place which was so familiar and alien to her. Time seemed to crawl and speed up all at once, and as she looked at the expanding freckles they showed her things, voices whispered ideas in her mind that she could not remember.

She did not know how long she drifted there in that space where everything and nothing collected. She felt pieces of herself growing distant. Her name... faded, and she was only a thought in a sea of ideas. Memories passed her by, faces of people she did not know, but one face remained solid and rooted. A woman with golden hair that became fire in the sunlight.

"Sierra." a voice echoed in the expanse, and then Lyrielle remembered.

With a great lurch of effort, Lyrielle grabbed at the splintered pieces of her mind that had begun to flake away, stitching herself back together thought by agonizing thought. And she remembered, she REMEMBERED where she was, and what she desired, what she craved, and she clung to it like a raft in stormy seas.

"Return to me my body." Lyrielle demanded to the void, and the ever-changing fractals stilled, "Make me whole again."

She felt the power of the archmagic circle filling her once more, and from nothingness, she built an idea or rather summoned it from the depths of everything around her. She built upon the image of herself she wished to create an imagined herself becoming whole again, a soul not broken, but complete and untarnished. Then with the power, she held she grabbed ahold of that wish and began to drag it from the sea of possibilities.

*****

Within the circle Lyra's spinning smoke had grown perfectly still for several minutes, giving no indication as to whether or not her actions were a success. Then it began to spin, faster and faster as the energies of the array began to gather. Red flecks rose from the circle, trickles at first, and then torrents that mixed with the smoke, tinting it all a dark crimson. Energies from the great pillars of light coalesced and collapsed on the still-growing mass. It began to condense, shrinking smaller and smaller even as more materials flowed in at faster and faster rates. A thundering sound shook the world as from the void above a light descended like a meteor, impacting the central mass and causing a concussive blast to push back the great trees and blow away those unprepared.

The mass began to writhe, darkening and beginning to grow odd appendages that quickly dispersed as soon as they were formed. The pillars grew hot as time went on, and the mark at the center of the circle glowed brighter and brighter. Denser and denser it became, taking on a more and more humanoid shape, and then its surface began to bubble as black puss oozed from fissures that marred its surface. One abscess grew larger than the rest, expanding outward before bursting to reveal a skeletal arm, white and covered with magic symbols. Black liquid oozed up and stained the bones where it touched, and from those stains veins and arteries began to take shape, growing from a new red and dripping shoulder as muscles began to overlay the bones. As more of the abscesses popped a leg began to form, then another arm. Pools of black began to form and drip over the edges of the stone circle, but tendrils still reached up from the slime as if trying to reach the thing forming at the center. At the center, a large section of the undulating substance burst to show an open rib cage, and a black heart within that did not beat.

*****

Lyrielle hummed a familiar tune as she pulled on the idea from the Aetherium. She could feel the magic within the circle activating, beginning to act on the wish she was manifesting with the power of blood and souls, but it was an odd process. She felt linked, but detached from it all, like she was watching everything occur from a space outside of the world and time itself. She saw the liquified parts of those she sacrificed being reforged into a body of her own, and Lyrielle could sense her own soul beginning to weave itself into the flesh and blood as she held the idea in place while the magic worked. Still, there was something odd, something that was just a breath from her conscious awareness.

What has become of those other parts of me. The thought came suddenly, but once had it could not be put away. Lyrielle expanded her awareness, grabbing ahold of the power again to reach through the veil once more, but unlike before she did not allow her mind to become distracted.

Once more within that sea of everything, Lyra looked. She thought of herself, of her soul, and of the encounter in the trainyard when that piece of her had fled. How angry she had become because the thought of a part of her rejecting her was just so... impossible. Yet it had happened, and through the power, she reached out and found that shard of herself, and then without thought, she extended further and touched them all.

Lyrielle saw a man in a hood holding a knife to her throat, and she could smell the scent of cheap perfume and cheap whine. She was in a dark space, afraid and unable to move. She looked up from a book and frowned, at once recognizing what it was that looked at her and realizing that she was looking at herself. Dozens of images, thoughts, and emotions passed through Lyra then. Some were whole and logical like herself, but others were broken and barely sentient. Pieces of her from across the world, existing separate from herself, yet still a part of her soul.

When she faced into the Aetherium, she felt all that she was and what they were, she knew them all intimately, and for a fraction of a second, they all knew her. The words of the monument returned to her then, suddenly making such frightening sense that she felt as if her mind were breaking.

There are others like you.

“What is it you seek to gain? Yourself? Are you not yourself? Or is it that you seek to become who you were irreverent of who you could become?”

“You know not who you are because you have chosen not to know. You know not what you know because you have decided to cling to what was instead of what is.”

Her mind tremble, her soul resonated with all of her, with her individual selves, and she then KNEW.

"Fractured... but still Whole."

*****

The black heart beat once, then twice, and a line appeared down its center. A gap opened, and inside was a roiling mass that exploded outward and encircled the still forming body. Not smoke, but not quite a mist, the substance was as ethereal as Lyrielle herself had been, and in the spinning darkness, faces could be seen. Men and women, young and old with eyes and mouths agape in soundless screams. All at once, the last of the bulging pustules exploded, and a stream of silver hair fell out around a perfectly formed face of a Hytori woman. She opened her eyes, gaze vacantly staring up at the great maw of the rift high above the now open cavern. Skin began to form over muscle and sinew, and black liquid poured from her body in waves, falling from her pours and growing the building pool around her larger and larger. As the last of her skin grew into place Lyrielle breathed in.

The flowing black souls swirled around her in a ring before being sucked into her open mouth. When the last one entered she breathed out, and her flesh writhed. Lyrielle did not seem to notice and slowly floated down to the circular stone slab. The black ooze rose to meet her, inching up her body and forming an oily black pattern on her skin that moved on its own. Her golden eyes were now tinted scarlet.

[Paragon]

In that brief moment, dwelling between the World That Was and the Worlds That Could Be, as Lyrielle was linked to her many selves, some of them chose to give up the lives that they currently held. They saw her just as she saw them. Mere pieces of a greater whole that needed to be completed. They did not want to go on living as tired broken things. With a breath, they fell, lifeless as their souls merged with hers. Others, however, had formed identities for themselves. They had grown to see themselves as fragile but as themselves. They numbered perhaps less than five. Among them, there was one that sneered at Lyrielle the most.

But the moment passed and Lyrielle returned to the World That Was, no longer cast so adrift among the Aetherium as she brought her wish to fruition.

As the last of the screaming souls became nothing but fuel for Lyrielle to consume as she rebuilt herself, Venetia collapsed. Her breathing heavy, sweat dripping down her face. The energies coalescing in the great circle slowed until they dimmed. Further and further, they lessened, dwindling down from the catastrophic heights they’d climbed. Until they died down completely. Venetia stared up into the red-gold eyes of the newly formed Lyrielle. She gave a shaky smile.

“Welcome, Sister.” Shining brightly upon Lyrielle’s form, was the scarlet Rune of Vitalis. The world had seen the birth of another of the Kyntori or perhaps…something more.

Off Topic

Lyra is now entitled to the perks afforded to an Outsider: Stage One (The Revelation).

► Show Spoiler

Mark of the Outsider - Immediately in the aftermath of their revelation, the Outsider is marked by the experience. They become something not quite mortal. This can manifest in whatever manner the player chooses but it is something that comes to define the aesthetic of their journey as an Outsider. The are able to perform the following with this eldritch appearance:

Conceal. The Outsider can conceal their eldritch appearance so as to appear somewhat normal. However, even in this state, they exude an aura of being…different. As though something about them is on the tip of an observer’s tongue. There will be at least one part of them that retains some semblance of their eldritch appearance. A part of their true nature that can never quite be hidden.

Terror. The Outsider can invoke terror in those who behold them in their true form. The mortal who witnesses this form cannot quite wrap their head around it, evoking a primal fear of what they are seeing before them.

Madness. An individual who beholds the Outsider in their true form can be driven insane by the experience. Weak willed individuals are most easily pushed toward this insanity. Strong willed individuals may experience a form of temporary madness that can eventually be shrugged off, it depends on the mental fortitude of the person. Entities that can naturally perceive the Aetherium (i.e. gods, demigods, elder dragons etc.) are unaffected by this madness as they are always partially plugged into the realm from which the Outsider draws their otherworldly strangeness.

Obsession [First Gift] - The Obsession is what comes with the Revelation. It is the underlying concept that comes to define the perspectives and actions of the Outsider. It touches upon everything that they do and infuses them and the world around them. With the awakening of their Obsession, the Outsider is granted the power to develop a singular ability that stems from this concept. It could manifest as anything but it is a power that is wholly their own.

Eldritch Object - Upon gaining awareness of the Aetherium through their revelation, the Outsider gains the power to infuse singular objects with a manifestation of their abilities. This singular token is granted an eldritch power that is capable of enacting some manner of enchantment related to the Outsider’s Obsession. It must be a solitary power that, once bestowed, will have a finite number of uses depending on how much of themselves the Outsider wishes to bestow upon it. At this stage, the Outsider is only capable of creating up to (5) of these objects with a maximum of (10) charges each. They can then gift this boon to anyone or perhaps use it for themselves. But be warned, such powers always come with a price…

Dark Demesne - The place where the Outsider experiences their Revelation is forever changed by the event. It becomes a place suffused with the Outsider’s Obsession and it is in this place that the Outsider can exert the most influence over the powers at their command. It becomes a place that is subject to the Outsider’s opinion on what the world should be like, filtered through the lens of their Obsession. At this stage, the amount of control that the Outsider can exert is minimal but potent enough that anyone and everyone who enters this realmspace certainly notices that things don’t quite operate the same way as they do elsewhere. Exactly how this manifests is dependent upon the Outsider. Tales of haunted mansions, unsettling forests that have paths that go in circles, and rumor has it even the Warrens of Karnor, are examples of places that might just be the Dark Demesne of an Outsider. The Dark Demesne can be no larger than 0.5 square miles (1.3 sq. km.)

Additionally, she has gained the following:

• Lyra may now freely transition between her Essence Form (Smoke), Solid Form (Current), and a Monstrous Form (Slime or other).
• She has gained the Rune of Vitalis. She is now a Vampyre.
• She is no longer bound by the constrictions of that ancient ritual from eons ago. She may now accept other Runes of Magic.

In your next post, please designate her Obsession and her Obsession Gift.

[Lyra]

Lyrielle blinked slowly as the lights around her steadily dimmed, fading completely. She felt... hot. No, cold. Looking down she raised a hand to her face, slowly curling one finger after another before bringing her other hand to touch her face. A slight pressure, a pricking sensation where her nails felt soft skin. Warmth filled her body, and there was a steady, rhythmic thumping in her chest that made her gasp and clutch at her breast. The stone beneath her feet hurt her soft, tender soles, and the breeze from above made her shiver.

For a moment her hands explored herself, touched whatever she could reach, pulling on hair, pinching at skin, and at the end when she grew still Lyrielle laughed. A deep, joyous laugh shook her body and made her double over as pain engulfed her side and she gasped for breath. It hurt, it hurt so much that she cried, black tears that left stains on her cheeks.

When she managed to compose herself Lyrielle noticed the design under her feet, and she, at last, took in the depth of it all.

"He completed it." her voice was hoarse, a surprise to Lyrielle who put a hand to her throat, but she smiled anyway. Crouching down she traced her hands over the designs in the central circle, the scripts which had done something Lyrielle herself wasn't sure was possible.

At the moment when she had touched all of herself, Lyrielle had come to understand something so fundamental. She had suffered and obsessed over the idea of her broken soul, that she had tried to piece together the means to recreate it, to FIX herself. Now she realized that like her schema, Lyrielle herself had been so very wrong. A soul fractured was not broken, but every piece could exist as its own part of a whole, yet still, all pieces of a soul were connected. She saw it in the expanse of the aetherium, that concept, which affirmed something she had not quite understood before. The Soul was not singular. If two souls could be linked through bonds, then so too could a soul be separated and yet still be one. That understanding brought with it a cascade of changes in her mind and affected the magic of the circle itself.

When she straightened Lyrielle looked at the world as something different. Things lost their physicality, and in place of flesh and blood, there were lights, shapes, and concepts wrapped by thoughts and emotions. She saw them, the souls of the things around her, and could feel them like she could hear their melodies on the wind. Even the surroundings appeared different to her eyes, the souls of trees were so vast and sank so deep into the earth, and creatures of all kinds scurried through their territories, each of their souls uniquely different in subtle ways.

Turning her eyes on Venetia Lyrielle cocked her head. The woman appeared to her eyes as covered in blood, a thorn through her heart quivered, fearful, yet where her eyes should have been were pits of cold fire, determined, unknowable. When she blinked again the world returned to normal, but Lyrielle could feel the souls of everything around her and knew she needed only to look to see them clearly.

A dark mist flowed from her body as she lessened herself, rising an inch above the stone slab and floating down to where Venetia lay. She hovered there, rotating herself so that she was parallel to the woman on the ground, and gently reached out to touch Venetia's cheek.

"Sister..." Lyrielle smiled, he face cracking as she grinned wider, the edges of her mouth flowing away into smoke that formed small faces before mixing with the mist around her, "I will not forget what you have done for me, for us."

Pulling her hand back Lyrielle flicked a sharp nail over her index finger, a single drop of blood oozing to the surface. The red blood darkened to black, and as Lyrielle stared at it her whispers grew louder. She reached inside of herself and withdrew a sliver of her soul and infused it into the drop. The blood hardened into a small black bead that fell to Venetia's chest. In that sliver of soul was contained the memory of the last Rift Gate Lyrielle had ever seen. She gave Venetia every detail she could recall, every mark, every work of scrivening, and suffused it into the small item, her first boon. A single use that would transfer the memory in its entirety to Venetia, and then it would be spent.

Her form dispersed into smoke, the tendrils flowing over the ground before reforming into her physical self once more before the now still body that had once been Lyra. It was a bit eerie to see the face she had used so often laying still and lifeless. Kneeling down Lyrielle stroked the dark hair of her old face, and then placed a hand on her own chest, reaching inside of herself and touching her own soul. With a thought she plucked off a piece, the surface of her soul rippling as strands of memories came with the new shard. When they were all connected Lyrielle took in all of the memories and knowledge of the other pieces of herself, save for 5 distinct personalities which refused to be collected. Lyrielle would find them in due time. She chose memories from one of these other hers, one who had lived in a desert city as little more than a street urchin. Breathing out a thin line of gold flew from her lips, sparkling before it slipped into Lyra's body. It twitched, and then opened golden eyes to look up at Lyrielle, confused at first, and then understanding.

"Make your way to what remains of our manor." Lyrielle said, pressing a hand on the woman's head. They were separate, but still only parts of the same person. Lyrielle passed her memories of walking the streets of Zaichaer, of where the manor was, of how to navigate these streets. She then gave this part of her memories of what they had done here, and the woman's eyes widened before closing in acceptance. When she was done Lyrielle rose into the air, her form expanding into dark smoke with her physical form still partially formed within. In the smoke were faces that stared out in horror, delight, and anger, and sorry. Hands reached out but quickly evaporated, becoming one with the mass of essence that was Lyrielle.

There was still things that must be done. Reaching out, and reverberating her own soul Lyrielle felt those other parts of her that did not join with her once more. Most were far away, their location muddled and difficult to read, but one was still nearby. One she recognized, and who knew she was coming. With one last smile to Venetia Lyrielle fully evaporated into essence, flowing up and out of the crater opening, heading straight for that piece of her that tried to resist.

Lyra slowly stood from her resting place near the tree, brushing off her robes and picking up her bag. She still felt... unsettled. Unusual? Maybe disjointed. Her memories of a life mixed with memories of another, and it was difficult for her to parse through it all. Pressing a hand to her chest she felt no heartbeat, but could vividly remember being Lyrielle moments before. It was odd, but they would get used to it with time.

► Show Spoiler

Lyrielle has had a breakthrough in her Obsession: The Soul. Her breakthrough is in the concept of a fractured soul still being whole, with all its pieces still connected, even if those individual parts have lives and personalities of their own. Because of her breakthrough and subsequent becoming of an Outsider, Lyrielle's ability to see through the veil now allows her to see the Souls of things. Interpretations of Souls are not yet innate and will be left up to trial and error as Lyrielle learns how to understand the language of Souls.

Ability: Fracture

Lyrielle can fracture her own soul, and the souls of others, and restore them. She can do this freely with her own soul but must be given permission to do so to another soul. These soul shards can be infused into items as a boon, given to one of her whispers, or be kept in the form of crystals with colors that match the soul of the one it is from. Soul shards can be used to power magic similar to dragonshards, but once expended the shards return to their original owners.

A soul shard may contain memories or skills of the person they are from, and while the shard is removed that person will not have access to that memory or skill until it is returned. Lyrielle is able to reabsorb her shards and learn any skill or knowledge that they have collected, but she cannot absorb the shard from another person's soul.

If Lyrielle touches another broken soul, she can sense its other pieces' approximate direction and location. This includes other shards of her own soul.

[Chronicle]

Like the pulse of a heartbeat not her own Lyra soon felt what she had searched for, a rhythm that vibrated only once throughout her being before the silence of her own lingered. Yet the innate feeling of knowing where herself was, her other self, didn't take long at all to resonate through her as she caught a glimpse. From within the rolling mists of the Chaos Storm she could see herself walking up to a building, her building, as what remained of it stood as a silhouette throughout the chaotic weather.

The stonework leading up to the manor and the yard already looked tarnished from the rubble and dust that had settled, but from within the cracks of each well placed stone, black vines littered with thorns were budding out into the open scene around her. There was a short sneer laugh before Lyra felt herself returned to her position, the lingering sensation of the one she hunted for echoed by her jubilance when the Outsider's focus had returned. She knew exactly where she would find her missing piece now, the defiant part of her that reveled within the chaos of the Dreaded Miststorms.

She waited at Lyra's Manor.