Time Eats All His Children in the End

[Finn]

Finn was pleased that Arkænyn was able to communicate with Arvain; it felt strange given how used to byzantine speech he had become in Solunarium.

"I..." he began in answer to Phædreon's question, but was forestalled by the answering voice from the Void. "I..."

He was making everyone uncomfortable. Could they sense how the chains of fealty had grown entangled? Oh, he was glowing again.

"I have a spirit of vengeance in my thrall," he explained quietly for his compatriots. "The Nykara slave that Æros consigned to the Void. I was curious to see whether my thralls could sense me, how it would work from another world, another reality. It seems there is a similar spirit here, and it answers via the same oath from another reality, but it does not know me."

Finn stood from the bench, shaking it off. "I could open a portal to Ailizane, or try, at least. Whither ought I cast its terminus, Phædreon?"

He wondered whether Alcinæus would just let them go or seek to keep them a while. And he wondered whether this was some version of Zalkyriax or perhaps Cithæra's father. Then again, how much did he need to know of a foreign reality? These might be the sorts of details that would get him too embroiled here to return home.

But he couldn't stop himself:

Pardon, Vengeance. In mine own reality, thou art my friend and, lately, vassal withal. Our vengeances are there entwined. I have come from elsewhere and elsewhen to seek my prey and was curious whether I could call you... him... to my aid.

[Pharaoh]

“Fucking Æros…” Arkænyn muttered, rolling his eyes. A vision of a luckier version of the half-Fæ had already haunted this trip and now he was somehow tied to Finn? No surprise there, really. The high-sighted fool had always been power hungry. It stood to reason he’d seek the orbit of someone else who had overperched their designated tier of the pyramid. He’d certainly been quick to ditch his Umbrian connections when offered a position in the Luxium, though…

“You are a bold one, aren’t you?” Phædreon chuckled. Perhaps that had been the quality that drew the Rex Regnum to break from tradition to elevate a human above so many worthy elves. “You must let me know the results that I might record them in my notes for posterity.”

After a beat, the voice in Finn’s mind replied, sounding somehow more perplexed than he had before.

“Why do you call me Vengeance? You are mistaken… I am just a boy in a village who has had too much wine to deal with this. Or was the wine laced with something hallucinogenic? Either way, please leave me in peace.”

“You are leading this mission.” Phædreon demurred with a shrug, “The most useful destinations would be in close proximity to Thalya’s seat or one of her sons. You may wish to scope out what lies here in the places you know in our Timeline before we leap headfirst into unknown environs.”

“Do let us know if there is anything we might offer to aid you. I see little detriment to your mission for mine empire. If you succeed, you will likely destabilise the realm of our enemy. Just swear that you will not let these strange powers to shift between worlds fall into the hands of Thalya’s court… and I invite you to return when you’ve completed your goal. I have so many questions…” Alcinæus offered.

[Finn]

"Oh, we are working on fucking Æros," he assured the pretty platinum princeling.

Ere you sleep, little bottom, edge for Aværys. His eye is ever upon thee.

There now, he was spreading his God's majesty across realities now. And now, back to work. Finn considered, then nodded to Phædreon. "Assuming we all survive this happy little jaunt through realities and time streams, we will certainly debrief." His halo dissipated as he released his hold on the other Khyan, hopefully happier for being a village boy rather than the fallen son of a senator and the slave of a piece of shit.

"If you can think of anything that might help prepare us without pointing back to you, Your Blazing Brilliance," he said with a bow, "we would not turn it down. And I would rather die than further empower her to do harm." Of course, he didn't want to die, and he didn't want his compatriots to die, but there was a level of risk involved and they had all deemed it acceptable. He offered Arvain a faint, complicated smile, and then focused upon the slipspace around him.

It felt different in ways he couldn't articulate in the moment. Give a bard some time and perhaps he could, but not now. Thankfully, nobody was asking.

Before he opened the portal, it was already keyed only to himself and to Phædreon and Arkænyn. And then it opened, a perfect circle that rippled easily like the surface of a pond, only it was vertical and only light shone through.

"The Night Mother's blessings upon you and yours, sire," he said, and then led the way into the little pocket of slipspace he had carved out for them. When his companions joined him, he let the portal close behind them, and glanced askance at Phædreon, lest his abilities prove unfettered here where they were unfettered by space itself. Certainly, he first opened windows to the various places he could connect this place, arachnine, from the center. A little reconnaissance went a long way. Then, he began to weave tunnels to various places.

"I wonder," he mused, half to himself, "whether leaping back to our timeline from here would leave me a path back..." He blinked, glanced at his companions, and shook his head. "Never mind." He did so want to learn the line between ambition and hubris, to be an avatar of Aværys' better nature rather than find darker paths. If time was truly the forth dimension, the three dimensions of space moving through change, then he didn't really want to know if a sufficiently masterful traveler couldn't do both. Hunger for Power was one thing, but overreaching was definitely another.

"If I fall, the portals I have created and this junction, will remain for some time and they will open for you, but no others. You can go to Kalzasi, to Aur'arnis, to Dalquor, to Tertium, and back to Solunarium, or their equivalents. But first... Kaladon." The strange aetheric space in which the stood—there being a sort of ground to stand upon because Finn willed it so—began to curve and tunnel, and then there was another portal. And Finn looked tired; this was taxing work even for a master of his craft. But he wasn't going to pass out anytime soon, and so he smiled.

"Once more into the breach, dear friends," he declared, and preceded them into the unknown.

[Pharaoh]

"Another endeavour toward which we are aligned, it seems." Arkænyn replied with a grim snigger.

"Why are you-... Just... what? I'm putting myself to bed. Please be out of my head before I start dreaming. Thanksss..." Finn would feel this reality's Khyan trying to push him out of his mind, albeit lacking the prerequisite tools to do so.

"Oh do not worry about implicating us. We are the bogeyman presumed to be behind all slights against her, which is only true... Most of the time." Alcinæus noted, with a wry smirk. "Good fortune to you on your hunt."

► Show Spoiler

"Here goes everything!" Phædreon grinned with a wink to Arkænyn, before following Finn through the portal. Arkænyn turned to bow to the Crown.

"Apologies for our... indecorous exit." With that he, too, followed the others in his party into the unknown. This space between was familiar, but somehow slightly different in barely perceptible ways. It was difficult to even ascertain how it was unlike what Finn knew in their own reality. Was it a subtle difference in the hue of the light that surrounded them? Whisps of warp in the air, or had he just not noticed those?

Phædreon looked to Finn, his eyes now glowing orbs of purple, infused with æther.

"You perceive in too few dimensions to achieve that, Viator, but I admire your pluck. If Traversion held a backdoor to the power of Æternus, there are many who would exploit it and to great calamity. If you attempt to leap back to our timeline, you will only wind up in the geographic location of your intent, but in this one. And that is if you are lucky. More likely, the lack of specificity will drag you somewhere else determined by your subconscious or, perhaps, by chaos itself. For that is what you would invite with such a far stride, Farstrider."

Through the windows of his conjuration, Finn might see a bustling tavern in the slum of an alternate Kalzasi. Over its door, the signage said: "Corona et Leo Taberna". The neighborhood appeared to be entirely human, though Avialæ-shaped figured flew high above. He might also see Aur'arnis, which looked like a strange blend of the Luxium and the version of the Aurisian capital that existed in their reality. The colours were much more aligned with Solunarium, far brighter with a preponderance of gold, but the stark architecture was more Aurisian. More of the modern and less of the well-maintained antique.

Kaladon when Finn saw and then embarked upon it, was very different indeed. A bustling metropolis sitting in the shadow of a great, snow-capped mountain rather than a smoking volcano. He stepped out into an alleyway, blessedly out of view of the elves who strode the wider boulevard ahead. Phædreon and Arkænyn stepped through behind him and the former took stock of the scene.

"You two will need to be disguised." He realised aloud, "His Starlit Highness is the spit of their twin princes and Finn... Well, I'm not seeing many humans hereabouts. I've found Masquerade to be indispensable as a chronomancer and, the best part is? Most realities can't shield against magic from realms alien to them. There is always something just a bit off..." He looked to Arkænyn and began to manipulate the image he presented, turning him from Platinum to Gold and softening what was severe into the gentle, delicate face of another elf.

Arkænyn looked down at his hands, turning them over and marking the differences and realising he did not know the back of his hand like the back of his hand anymore.

"Am I sexy? I hope you made me sexy."

"Am I not Solunarian?" Phædreon balked, before clasping his hands together and turning to Finn.

"Your turn!"

!	Message from: Pharaoh
	You may feel free to create an illusory elven disguise for Finn to wear under Phædreon's manipulation.

[Finn]

Finn nodded seriously to Phædreon.

"I think I would like to perceive in more dimensions," he said softly, "though I would rather leave well enough alone. Unless, you know, playing Vigilia Temporis." But he let that go. They didn't have time for flights of fancy just now; they had to focus on the task at hand.

So, too, did he bypass for the moment the Vastian version of his old home and venue, the gardens where he had serenaded his prince and his sister-in-law's prospective prince, more modern somehow in this reality. He wasn't really a landscape artist, nor did he have time to do more than make cursory reconnaissance.

And then they were in a great city at mighty Kaladon's feet, working magic in an alleyway.

Finn put his hand on Arkænyn's shoulder and said without cracking, "I wouldn't kick you out of bed, Arky."

Then he turned to let Phædreon work illusory magic upon him as well. He wondered why his Mesmer hadn't been quite so effective if alternate timeline's magic was different enough to bypass some protections. Well, more on that later, perhaps.

If he wasn't recovering from quite a bit of spatial manipulation, he might have opened a window to see what the chronomancer had wrought, so instead he turned, spreading his arms wide for Arkænyn to judge. If one were looking for it, one would still find Finn, but his bulk had gone leaner, his ears elongated, his skin taking on a more ashen, Moonborn appearance. His Sentinel blacks had become a highborn's robes. There were certain alterations to bone structure that made him undeniably elven—Moonborn by Re'hyæn standards, possibly Siltori by other, though one would be disappointed if they stripped him searching for witchmarks.

The earnest expression was still Finn's, however.

"Am I sexy?"

Whatever the answer, he turned to lead them out of the alley and into the street. His eyes and his feet turned toward the mountain stretching up out of the horizon. He hadn't wanted to chance opening a portal into an active volcano if the reality shift affected his precision, and so they were down here. But now he could see the mountain with his eyes, and his accuracy would increase exponentially.

"Let me know what you sense," he ordered Phædreon, "or we can duck into another alley and I will take us closer to the summit if need be." The mountain itself might have been the anchor point, but surely the city would be where Thalya would go to ground, and he wasn't sure whether the point of ingress or the place where she bode her time would prove the more facile tracking point.

[Pharaoh]

“I am glad to hear it. I came as escort, not as didact, though there is some overlap perforce.” Phædreon replied, canting an eyebrow at Finn’s musings.

“Heh…” Arkænyn scratched the back of his head, the façade of longer darker hair bouncing against the motion of his hand. He blushed, recalling an intimate moment he’d seen playing backwards between himself and Finn during their brief trek through the fourth dimension.

“I wouldn’t kick you out of bed.” Arkænyn echoed, when Phædreon’s efforts were complete and Finn presented himself for appraisal.

“Nor would I, but that is to be expected as I was the architect to the illusion and am a noted æsthete.” Phædreon offered, though none had asked. His eyes were still aglow in purple churning hues as he stepped out onto the boulevard and regarded the surroundings.

“I see shoddy work in the Tapestry. A time mage has been here and not a practised one…” He winced, “I apologise… it is difficult to see the forest for the trees, just now. This is… so very different from our Kaladon. Perhaps…” He grimaced, “…perhaps too different. She may not have tarried here. If I could only get closer to where she touched the Tapestry…”

“My mother would have likely sidestepped directly from the estate of House d’Averyx or near to it. I know she was being housed by the ambassador outside of Aur’arnis. Finn… I think you may have been there when you met Prince Qalanar. It’s…” Arkænyn spun around to get his bearings, and needed the snow-capped Kaladon to do so.

“This way.” He gestured, pausing in case Finn was in a hurry and keen to practise his teleportation skills again. “It shouldn’t be far if it’s in the same place.”

“That shouldn’t matter.” Phædreon asserted, “If she sidestepped it only matters where our version of the estate lays.”

[Finn]

Finn let the uncomfortable humor go, though he couldn't help it if his mind imagined a bit of a threesome. It wasn't his fault, though: bards had excellent imaginations, Phædreon was an aesthete and an artist, and, well, Finn was only human. But titillating as the idle thought might be, he was more focused on the task at hand than getting his hands on what was under their clothes. He was responsible for their safety and the safety of Finn's husband was this mission's whole raison d'être, at least from his perspective.

He wanted to get home to his Arvælyn.

Phædreon's explanations and Arkænyn's insights made sense, so Finn just nodded and then they were off. He might have taken them closer, but if it wasn't far, he would rather be a bit more conservative with his spell casting. This was why he hadn't spent aether soothing Arkænyn's earlier discomfort.

An eviller version of Finn might use his majestic emblem to enthrall pretty things into his bed, but not this one.

As they walked, he did passively engage his crafts, however, listening to the chorus of symphonies, mapping the space around them so he could take decisive magical action if necessary for their safety.

"The Immortals of Auris had chronomancers," he noted quietly as they walked. "Do you think it likely there are equivalent time mages here, or would they have... hm... cleaned up after her mess?" He supposed that protecting the Prime Timeline was part and parcel of Phædreon's work. Otherwise, he would have fucked off to be self-aggrandizing like the bitch queen herself.

He wouldn't ask if they should expect trouble; a Sentinel always did, and just prepared to deal with it.

[Pharaoh]

"Did you notice how Emperor Alcinæus responded to our talk of time-travel and gateways between dimensions? He was in complete ignorance. Between that and the dearth of outside influence I've noted on the threads of Destiny, I suspect this world is without chronomancy... or, perhaps, they had it once, but it is a truly lost Craft which is no longer practised and the practitioners of which no longer participate in this timeline." Phædreon answered, almost giddily. Where he had seemed a tad irksome at Finn's queries earlier, he now seemed to be delighting in his role as professor of a subject for which he held great passion.

"Fate needs no protecting, rest assured, but people... people might be collateral damage to detours in Destiny and Fate is rather fickle about how its dictates play out. At any rate, what I am seeing suggests that she is at least alone. Whatever pædagogus instructed her in the Craft is not escorting her and that is to the good."

Arkænyn led them, by and by, to the d'Averyx Estate. It was similar in architecture to the one Finn had visited, though its colouring was completely different. What had been a dark monument to Akrivar in their timeline, was a golden tribute to his son in this one. Twin statues of Aværys flanked the main entrance, towering over the passersby.

"This is it." Arkænyn announced, looking to Phædreon, who was already grimacing.

"I know. She was here. Briefly. And moved on. Tsk. Anticlimactic, isn't it? Not everything is dramatically satisfying. That is one of the first things you learn about Fate and Destiny..." He wrinkled his nose and looked to Finn sort of apologetically.

"Well. The good news is we're better situated geographically. She's likely to have touched this part of several timelines. Shall we try another?" He clapped his hands together and wrung them eagerly, as he began to summon æther.

[Finn]

Finn nodded, listening to everything Phædreon had to say, albeit with more conservative enthusiasm. He was suddenly curious who would protect them from becoming collateral damage if some other time mage came calling while Phædreon was taking a nap. Or perhaps he would remain now that the Divine Twins were ascendant once more.

"I never did understand why they called them lost magics, when the Hytori king is a well known dreamwalker, Auris has its Immortals, and all..." But he shrugged it off; it was probably propaganda. He just didn't know whose.

He nodded too to Arkænyn. Although it looked as though Aværys had decorated his Divine Father's palace, but it was quite a similar palace otherwise. He sighed, but at least they had her trail. It wouldn't have been realistic to expect she would be there waiting to be apprehended.

"Moved on spatially or temporally?" he asked glancing at the elder elf for clarification. If the latter, he could break up the junction he had created in the slipspace and absorb some of it back. The effort of creating it was lost, but he could magically cannibalize the structure and be less depleted for the next requirement placed upon him. "Also, how long has it been for us since we quit our own timeline?"

Finn assumed one of the perks of Phædreon's craft would be the sure knowledge of such things: relative time lapse. He believed that was the phrase he had read. It would be up to Finn, though, to ensure his men were fed, watered, and rested throughout this endeavor. They were his responsibility. And they would need rest if they had to keep reapplying glamours, as well as moving them through space and time along her trail. If nothing else, he could probably ply his emblem here to get them sumptuous room and board. Then again, it would likely draw undue attention. He didn't know that he wanted to meet a version of his God who did not love him, whose behavior might be far beyond what he had learned of Him.

If spatially, Finn would guide them to the next place on his list. If temporally, he would recall his aether before they moved on, though he hadn't the context to tell Phædreon when to move them.

[Pharaoh]

“Contrivance? Elitism? An anomaly between realities? I know not…” Phædreon now knitted his brow puzzling over the question posed about the wherefore of so-called ‘Lost Magicks’ being thus described. He looked as though he might have zoned out completely, but Finn’s next question broke the trance.

“Dimensionally. Spatially her trail starts to lead Northwest, but I can’t tell whether she came back… it might have been a brief jaunt, or… Well, I propose we make a lateral move. I shall try to uphold your disguises, but they may falter a bit upon arrival. Anyway-From here I may be able to get a better read on her course…” His eyes still glowed purple as he looked around at things the others clearly were not seeing. The glow dimmed somewhat at Finn’s next question.

“What? Why… how long has it felt like? Probably close to that for our bodies, but the future hasn’t happened yet, as you perceive it, and everything is simultaneous as I do, so can take us back to right after we left. If we survive this endeavour. I haven’t yet seen Grandmama and Grandpapa! I hope we survive this endeavour… let’s focus on that, shall we?”

Phædreon clasped his hands together and, as he drew them slowly apart, a coruscating purple orb expanded between his palms.

“Let’s concentrate, boys! Think about why we’re all here. It may smooth the path…” He inhaled deeply as the orb of his conjuration expanded to encompass them. They would see startled Kaladonians gaping in their direction and calling for authorities who didn’t have time to react before the trio was gone.

Back into the in between they went, surrounded by warping waves of purplish hues and scenes out of other worlds. Different versions of people and places they knew, but never themselves. It was as if they were seeing through their own eyes, but unlike last time when everything had moved backwards, this time all was frozen in tableau. Time stopped as the dimensions were traversed.

!	Message from: Pharaoh
	You may describe visions of the tableaus Finn observes from the alternate timelines. This may or may not impact the next phase of the journey.