Sorzo Posted November 16, 2023 Share Posted November 16, 2023 Content Rating: E Disclaimer: This short story is not intended to be canon to They Call Me Sonic. It was written as a conceptual exploration for Solaris with the understanding that the characterization therein would likely not be implemented. As it is set after the first season of the TCMS tabletop game, which is in-progress as of this posting, certain assumptions made by the writer may eventually contradict other aspects of the setting's canon. Eye of Glass Milly clutched her grandmother’s staff—her staff—nervously as she gazed up at the towering arched entryway before her. The opening, wrought of polished dark stone regularly inset with white gems of the same type as this place’s namesake, did not appear to have been attended to recently: a thick layer of brown and grey dust and detritus covered its surface, marring any glittering beauty the diamonds might otherwise have possessed. Even to her, someone who perhaps too seldomly paid heed to matters of cleanliness and aesthetics, it seemed off, suggesting that the interior of the cavernous structure beyond was long abandoned rather than the currently occupied dwelling that her Server had spoken of. Even the air, though breathable and temperate enough for one suited to colder climes, had a heavy, stagnant feel to it, as though it had not been disturbed in ages. The lack of any circulation in it was already unpleasant enough, and the polar bear feared that it would begin to feel outright smothering once she had ventured inside. Then again, that there was even air present here at all was an impossibility, or at least it would have been if ‘here’ had been back in the Material Plane, what Milly still sometimes reflexively thought of as the real world despite herself. The world around her, made up not of atoms and compounds but energy coalesced into tangible form and substance through the will and design of he whom she currently sought out, was not subject to the laws of physics and chemistry as she knew them. In this case, that of the Diamond, her surroundings consisted of a small asteroid floating somewhere in the cosmos. All around her were pinpricks of starlight, but they seemed somehow cold, bereft of the reassuring warmth and wonder looking up at Isenvalk’s night sky had often offered her. The dim, distant sun was no different, while the faint sight of what she assumed was Earth, a barely visible marble of blue and green, left her feeling forlorn. Lonely. It was strange, feeling this way. Ever since she was a little girl, she had dreamed about exploring the wonders of the universe, becoming a spacefaring adventurer like Luke Skywalker, James T. Kirk, and Captain Harlock. But actually being out in that vast expanse, even in abstract, made her acutely aware of how small and vulnerable she truly was. But then, her heroes had had their Han Solos and Princess Leias, their Mister Spocks and Doctor McCoys. She was alone, left to muse whether the presence and companionship of her friends would make such circumstances more palatable, an ultimately irrelevant question that gave way to one more meaningful. What kind of person would choose to live in a place like this? Her own Server dwelled in a luxurious aquatic paradise of her own making, a setting that had immediately seemed fitting for one of power and status. That impression had only been reinforced in the subsequent weeks as she continued to get to know the otter she now served. This, on the other hand… Well…Queen Salasia did say that Solaris values his privacy. This seems a little extreme, but I can still relate to that, right? I don’t like to be disturbed when I’m in the middle of working or watching an anime, after all. Of course, that begged a rather unpleasant question. If a disruption of desired solitude could cause her to become “a bit of a grump”, as Kalen had put it on more than one occasion, what would the reaction be of a Chaos lord who could wield near-absolute control over his domain and quite clearly was not hoping for visitors? The staff pulsed in her hands, giving the sensation of pleasantly warm water, and she nodded at the reassurance. Like it or not, she had a mission to carry out. The small mountain the archway led into was the only feature of note she had found on the asteroid since Queen Salasia had teleported her to its surface what felt like an hour or so ago, and it matched the description she had been given. It had to be the place. Taking a deep breath, Milly slowly stepped through the opening, doing her best not to dwell on the myriad memories of her last time inside a mountain. She instead tried to focus on her surroundings, which were difficult to make out even with Mobian eyesight. Soon the stone halls were bereft of even the faint illumination of starlight, leaving her in complete darkness. “Umm…a little help, please?” The end of her staff began to glow with cyan light, though for a moment it flickered, as though hesitant to answer such a feebly-intoned request. It was understandable, given that the polar bear normally wielded her “Magical Girl” powers like Usagi and the other Sailor Scouts did on TV, enthusiastically shouting specially worded commands such as “Staff of the Asterite, Cast Thine Illumination!” At the moment, however, she was simply not feeling up to it. There was no one to save or fight, no flood of adrenaline and determination. Just nervous fear. Still, the luminance ultimately held and was sufficient for her to gauge her surroundings. The walls of the spacious corridors were as smooth, plain, and nondescript as those near the entrance, but as she resumed her course and headed deeper into the mountain their layouts gradually changed, giving way to carved shelves containing metallic cabinets. All were closed, and although her natural curiosity was not entirely eclipsed by inward reminders to remain respectful and cautious, Milly had the distinct impression that even if she attempted to risk a peek she would find them locked. Between the various shelves hung iron sconces, each containing a large silver crystal. From their arrangement, it seemed likely that they were meant to supply light, like the wall-mounted torches of old. That they remained dull and opaque was not a reassuring sign, though whether they simply required stimuli of some sort or were outright refusing to aid an intruder she could not say. Virtually anything was possible within a Server’s domain. Presently she came to a split path consisting of two sets of stairs, one ascending and the other leading deeper into the heart of the asteroid. Both seemed equally worn, and there were no discernable labels, markings, footprints, or other indications to suggest which path to take. At a loss, the young herald decided she had little to lose in announcing her presence. There was no real need for furtiveness, given her goal of meeting Solaris, and it seemed likely that he was already well-aware of her arrival. Granted, if that was the case he was unlikely to reveal himself now when he had hitherto chosen to remain secluded. Still, as Azriella and her family kept reminding her, it was important to be polite. “H-hello? Excuse me, M-Mister Solaris? Are you there? My n-name is Milly. Queen Salasia sent me. M-might I please speak with you?” There was no response, save the faint echoing of her raised voice that was soon swallowed up by the cavernous complex around her, leaving only silence and stillness. “Right. Well, it was worth a shot, I guess,” she murmured, eyes drifting downward to her staff. “I don’t suppose you know the way, do you? Wait…actually, you just might…” Closing her eyes, she raised the ancestral artifact slightly while tightly gripping it with both hands, focusing her thoughts until they were synchronized with its energies and then using it to amplify and extend her mental and spiritual awareness outward. It was difficult, taxing work, far more so than on the Material Plane or when training within the Andarra. The ephemeral Chaos energy around her was not of the form she was attuned to, and moving her senses through it was more akin to wading across a sea of molasses than one of clear waters. Still, she gradually made headway through the morass as she sought out concentrations of Chaos, first extending her mind upward and then, finding nothing that meaningfully stood out from the ambience, downward toward— “Aaaagh!!!” A brief flash of pain caused Milly to cry out as the connection was forcefully severed, like a door being slammed in her face. Opening her eyes, she found to her horror that the staff’s glow was sputtering out and frantically began doing everything she could think of to restore its radiance. Nothing worked; though her connection with the object remained, it felt like its energies were being suppressed by a far more powerful surrounding force. Soon the last glimmer faded, leaving her once again in darkness. Even in the dark, I could probably find my way back outside from here. The path was linear enough. But…no, I can’t go back. Not yet. Queen Salasia wanted me to meet with Solaris, and I have to give it my best shot. He’s definitely here, at least…and definitely further down. Guess I’ll just have to be careful. Creeping forward slowly and cautiously, the polar bear moved to the stairs leading downward and gingerly began the painstaking descent, step by step. She was able to feel against the walls for support, thankfully, while her staff doubled as a walking stick and mobility cane, letting her get a sense of what lay immediately before her. Still, it was a stressful, nerve-racking process, and the stagnant air soon began to weigh heavily on her anxiety, as she had feared. He knows I’m here. Knows I’m here but doesn’t want me to be. He wants me gone. But…how far would he go to get rid of me? Would he try to kill me? Could he kill me when I’m like this, since my body’s back in Az’s house? Probably, at least for all intents and purposes…and if he wanted to, I couldn’t do anything to stop it. Even Queen Salasia probably couldn’t; as powerful as she is, he’s supposed to be at least her equal, and this is his realm. Did she make a mistake by sending me here? They’re supposed to know one another, but it also sounds like it’s been a very long time since they last spoke… The prospect of her newfound benefactor being unable to intervene in time on her behalf was deeply unsettling, and Milly began to realize that she had come to depend on the otter queen more than she liked to admit. Still, even if her Server was cut off from her, it did not mean she was truly alone. Faith was something she struggled with at times, and hers certainly did not burn as brightly as that of Kalen or the Jensens. But she still had it, and it was something she could hold onto, even here in the dark. “Though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me.” She had experienced firsthand the truth in those words just two months prior, in the heart of Doomsday. If anywhere could be described as a valley of shadow and death, it had been that place and its host of horrors. Providence had seen her through safely then, and she had to trust that the same would be true now. That’s right, Milly. It’s…it’s going to be okay. You’ve made it through worse than this. Way worse. This is…this is just a social call on behalf of your boss, really. That’s probably something normal people do sometimes, right? Besides, nothing so far has been dangerous, it’s just a little darkness. Darkness from a hermit who likes to keep his lights off. I guess it’s not so much the Valley of the Shadow of Death as it is the Valley of the Shadow of Grumpin— Another step, and suddenly the wall she had been putting much of her weight against was no longer there. She stumbled forward, slipped, found herself falling amidst nothingness…and before she could so much as scream, there was the sound of air being displaced nearby, as though from the beating of an enormous pair of wings, and she was caught by something soft—organic?—yet firm. The absolute black around her soon became a dimly lit haze, and a few moments later she was dropped not altogether gently upon the ground a few feet below. Milly’s dizzied vision swam briefly before clearing, at which point she found herself in a very large chamber that bore ample signs of habitation. A number of tables were set against the edges of the room, many with stools next to them. Along the walls were various cabinets and shelves, the latter supporting a myriad manner of mechanical objects in what looked to be various states of completion, as well as more of the sconces she had seen before, though the crystals within these radiated the pale, soft light by which she could again see. The illumination was faintly reflected by the walls and floor, which were of the same make as the diamond-inset polished stone of the entryway but in much better condition. The only piece of furniture she could see that did not appear to be composed of stone or metal was an enormous bookcase shaped from green-blue coral, at least three meters wide and stretching higher toward the unseen ceiling than she could make out in the current level of light, each of its countless shelves tightly packed with tome after tome. In total, the space came across as something of a personal workshop. It looked much older and, admittedly, significantly tidier than her former one back in Isenvalk, but it still reminded her of that beloved haven…though any comfort the similarities might have provided was offset by the sense of scale. Like the bookcase, everything here was massive, as though crafted for a being several times her size. And if that were the case… She gulped, looking up at the towering silhouette that loomed unmoving before her. It was at least seventeen, perhaps eighteen feet tall and looked vaguely avian, but she could make out little more than that; the light of the chamber inexplicably seemed to stop short of the figure in every direction, though near its top there was a periodic faint gleaming from what, judging by its position, might have been a single eye. “H-hello? M-Mister S-Solaris, sir?” “Go away,” a croaking voice replied. It was loud but not thundering as she had expected, with a wizened, raspy quality to it, as well as something that recalled the crisp, precise turning of clock gears. She could not detect any genuine anger in his tone, but the irritation was more than palpable, and after a moment he turned away, the gleam disappearing. “Please, wait!” the polar bear protested, getting to her feet. “Thank you for saving me. My name is M-Milly, and I’ve b-been sent here by—” “I heard you the first time, little herald, and even had I not, your allegiance would have been obvious enough. Your presence is suffused with her aura, to say nothing of that token you carry. Now scurry on back to your master and tell that meddlesome busybody that nothing has changed as far as I am concerned. Barriers or no Barriers, I still wish to be left alone, even by her.” His irreverent dismissal of the being to whom she owed so much irked her, and without thinking Milly found herself talking back. “You shouldn’t talk about her like that! Queen Salasia’s a great woman! I’ll admit I was a bit wary of her when I first met her, but since then—” She was cut off by a sharp snort, though whether it carried any real amusement was difficult to say. “Child, I am a Chaos Server in the heart of his own domain. There is only one being in all of existence whom I may not talk about however I please, and the Asterite is most certainly not He…though to her credit she has always known that, unlike some among the Seven. I certainly bear her no ill will, if that is your concern. And as for you…” The figure turned around again and slowly crouched down. As he did so, the chamber’s illumination at last began to touch his features, giving Milly her first real look at Solaris, Chaos Server of the Diamond. He was a crow, ancient-looking yet without any hint of frailty about him, his long yet neatly trimmed white beard and the tufts of matching hair visible beneath his drawn cowl a stark contrast to his beak and feathers of midnight black. He was clad in silver hooded robes fastened by a white cord at the waist, though his taloned feet were left bare. Folded behind him were wings of dark crystal, their facets twinkling with glimpses of light in a manner that reminded her of the starry expanse visible outside the mountain. And his eyes… The polar bear scarcely managed to suppress a gasp upon seeing that the avian’s right eye, clouded, faded, and unfocused, was blind, while the socket of the left was occupied by a glass orb, the source of the gleaming she had espied amidst his silhouette. The orb shifted up and down as he studied her, and she realized that whatever its nature it offered the lens through which he still viewed the world. “…I will grant that your loyalty is perhaps commendable, but that reckless tongue does both you and the one you attempt to defend the honor of a disservice, and not all of the Servers would allow it to move so without reprisal. Oh, do stop fidgeting and sweating like that, I am not going to harm you. I do not make a habit of killing needlessly—I desire isolation, not bloodshed—and when I do feel darker inclinations, seldom do they extend toward the agents of old allies.” “Then…you’ll listen to what I have to say?” He did not reply for a moment, though when he did speak his glass eye carried a glow that was more than mere reflection. “Answer Truly: If I say no and continue to do so, what will you do?” “Keep trying until you relent and listen to me, I suppose. Queen Salasia asked me to speak with you about something, and I really don’t want to disappoint her.” Her words immediately came of their own accord, unbidden and formed neither by conscious thought nor emotional impulse, drawn out instead by the power and will of he who had posed the question. After they had left her lips, Milly closed her eyes and shook her head, surprise and confusion quickly replaced by realization and a mixture of wariness and awe. For his part, Solaris gave a deep sigh of resignation. “It would seem you truly have her diligence…and stubbornness…for better or for worse. I can of course throw you out if I wish, send your spirit back its body in the Material in a heartbeat and ward the Diamond so that no amount of effort on Salasia’s part will allow you to return. Were you the emissary of anyone else, I would most likely do just that. But…I suppose I ought to humor her and let you try to carry out your errand.” The glass eye shifted for a moment in the direction of the coral bookcase. “…I owe her that much…” At Milly’s smile the eye swiveled back toward her, accompanied by a narrowed brow. “Make no mistake, I am not acquiescing to anything save a brief exchange of words. If and when you deliver the proposition I know full well you have been entrusted to bring on her behalf, I can assure you that the answer will be a flat refusal, and I rather doubt there is an argument either of you can conjure that can change that. For your part…Mildrid, was it?” “Milly, sir.” “Quite. For your part, Mildrid, I ask two things. The first is that you do not touch anything without express permission; were you to break anything here, you would swiftly find yourself trying to return to your body from across the cosmic void…not a pleasant excursion, I am told. The second is that you endeavor to at least display a more agreeable personality than Salasia’s other current champion. If I am to be subjected to multiple conversations within a single century, I would at least have them be relatively tolerable.” “Other champion…you mean my friend Ecco? You know her?” Another snort, this one decidedly bereft of any trace of amusement. “The Cetani, yes…though if you call that one friend, I am already beginning to question my decision to suffer this discussion.” “If…if you don’t mind my asking, sir, what happened? Did Queen Salasia send Ecco here to talk with you first?” The crow rose to his considerable full height and began slowly moving over to one of the stools near the edge of the room, speaking as he did so. “I do in fact mind…though it is not your fault that the matter was an…unpleasant one. Suffice it to say that time is part of my domain, and I am not overly enthused when people decide to start meddling with its currents, however justified their intentions may seem to them.” He sat down facing her, gesturing to another stool nearby for her to do the same. But as Milly walked up to the piece of furniture, it became evident that such a normally effortless act would pose a challenge, given that everything here was scaled for use by a giant over thrice her height. She was used to being short by the standards of humans and many Mobians, but in this case she felt as though she were somewhere between a Hobbit and a Lilliputian. A more dexterous, less heavyset individual would likely have had little difficulty climbing atop the stool, but such an attempt was more likely to leave her sprawled out on the floor with a sore back. She turned to Solaris, intending to ask him for help, but the words died in her throat as she took in his analytical one-eyed gaze. This is a test, isn’t it? He’s evaluating my ability to solve a problem. She thought it through for a moment, then looked up at her host, a tentative solution in her mind’s eye. “I think you kept me from using my staff properly earlier. May I please use its powers again?” At his wordless nod, the polar bear withdrew the small container of water she kept on her person and poured it onto the ground near the stool. Taking her staff, she then reached out with its power, manipulating the puddle into a thin cylinder before freezing it and stepping onto the small platform of ice she had created. “Waters of the Asterite, rise!” At her words, the platform began to slowly ascend, moving upward until it was high enough for her to hop off onto the now-level top of the stool. A final flick of her staff caused the ice to dissolve and flow back into her container, and as she sealed it and sat down she looked back up at the Server, who offered a grouchy “Hmph!” that she hoped contained at least some measure of hidden approval. “So…you can control time? Or travel through it?” The giant closed his eyes and rubbed his brow, now seeming weary and even older than before. “It would be more accurate to say that time controls me. It controls you as well, of course, as it does all mortals, but for me…for me it is different. I am bound to it, stretched nigh-infinitely in two directions: backward and forward, past and future. There is only a single present at any given moment, but my awareness is split between it and five minutes ago and five minutes from now…an hour ago and from now…a year…a millennium…” “Wait…are you saying that you’re…oh, what was that word that Kalen used…omniscient?” “No, no…such a thing is the province of God alone. Still, I once possessed something beginning to approximate it, you might say. I did not know everything, but I could find virtually anything out if I so chose. Any bit of knowledge that existed, past, present, or future, within the current Cycle was revealed to me if I sought it out. As you might expect, I considered myself very wise. How very wise indeed…Ha!” His short, sharp laugh struck her as being utterly devoid of any mirth. “But that was many, many Cycles ago. Much of my sight was…taken from me….” He opened his eyelids again, revealing the glass orb that looked down at her and the faded eye that could not, the faint glimpse of silver-blue upon its foggy surface the only hint of any hue across his entire being. “…taken by the Mistress of Shadows for the sake of her intrigues and secrets.” A shudder ran down Milly’s spine as she recalled the otherworldly conversation in her basement. “You…you’re talking about Helena, aren’t you? The ruler of the Amythyst.” “That is the name she now fancies, yes, though it was not always so. We have had many names, all of us, over the eons…over the Cycles...many names and many forms. For a long, long while, she took the form of a friend…and eventually more than that. That I did not suspect her machinations until she struck shows how blinded I already was. Deceit is in her nature, just as pride, I acknowledged too late, is in mine.” The polar bear huddled her arms around her torso in pensive thought, her mind drifting back to the tense standoff with Artiem in her living room. “That’s so sad…to be betrayed by one you were so close to…” Another snort. “Do not pity me, child, I am too old for it. Such events are ancient history even by my standards, dozens of turns of The Wheel past. I doubt she herself remembers them.” “What do you mean? I don’t really understand much about these…um…Cycles, but I thought the Servers retained their memories from one to the next.” “Only to an extent. While we are unlike those mortals who make the transition from one Cycle to the next in that we retain almost all of who we are, our personalities, knowledge, memories, the other six are subject to a degree of…erosion. They lose a bit of themselves each time things reset. They are not atrophying or anything of the sort—experiences accumulated over the course of a cycle outweigh those lost at the start of one—but they are changing, slowly but surely. Though we do not age, it is not entirely different from how you are not the same person you were as a very small child and do not remember everything from those days. Time’s passage has caused you to grow in mind as well as body, but things are nonetheless lost in the transition.” “You talk of the other six as though you are separate. Are you not affected by all this?” His beak twisted in a bitter smile. “Would that I were. But though it was forever damaged, some of my sight remains. The parts of me that exist in the future are effectively blind,” he said, raising a finger to his clouded right eye. “I can at times feel things, impressions and emotions, the thoughts of others, but they are vague, without context. But the past…” The finger moved to the glass orb on his left. “The past I am still connected to well enough. The many secrets of the universe, that knowledge which is jealously guarded by the Amythyst, I am no longer privy to, but all else within this Cycle’s history I can see much as I did before. And before this Cycle…” He trailed off for several long moments, and when his voice returned it was little more than a whisper, steeped in sadness. “…before this Cycle, though I cannot look beyond my own experiences, I remember. I remember everything, Mildrid, as though it was happening at this very moment. I remember waking up for the first time, freshly created, before the Most High near the dawn of time. I remember watching as He made the other six Servers, meeting them, each of us growing closer as the years advanced. The end of the very first Cycle and beginning of the second, how they were still the same and yet not. The beginnings of our petty bickerings and squabbles as sin’s taint infected us one by one. The feuds and alliances we, who were designed to be in perfect harmony, made with another. The betrayals and wars. The creation of an eighth Emerald designed to isolate us from one another, its destruction and reforging time and again across the ages. And I remember looking upon my old friends…the only six in all of existence, all time and history, who were like me…and seeing next to nothing in any of them of who they had been at the start. They…had forgotten…” Milly found herself wiping away tears, and to her surprise when she looked back up she saw Solaris doing the same. “It is perhaps a foolish sentiment…certainly a pointless one, but…I envy you, child. Your youth and innocence, your naivete. Yours is a New Soul, fresh and unburdened by even the unconscious weight of past lives in past Cycles. You will go on to live your life, learning, growing, and loving, and when the time comes for it to end, you will either await the Wheel’s next turn or escape it entirely, the Grace I can see upon your heart allowing you to be with our Creator. And when that escape comes, whether it be tomorrow or millennia from now, I will still be here, bound to this unending, unforgetting fate.” Silence fell between them for a time, the polar bear looking down at the floor far below, idly rubbing the ancestral ring upon her finger. “I’m sorry…I know you don’t want me to be, but…” she trailed off with a helpless shrug, one met with a cock of the Server’s beaked visage. “Another foolish, pointless sentiment…but I thank you for it and am sorry as well. I am all too intimately familiar with the pain that can come from knowledge of others, and now I have inflicted the very same upon you. It would be easy to dismiss it as solicited, a consequence of your intrusion and questions, yet perhaps I simply needed to get the matter off my chest once more. It has been quite some time since I last did so. Still, that is no excuse for my failure to know when things are best left unsaid. Isolation, it seems, has taken its toll on my social graces.” Milly managed a sad smile. “I’m a little bit like that too, actually. Conversing with others is…difficult…for me, sometimes. My friends will say that I’m talking too much, or not enough, or saying things I shouldn’t. People I don’t know well usually don’t do that, but instead they’ll just sort of…stare. Like they’re judging me or think I’m offputting or something. I still don’t really know how I should deal with those silences. You did surprise me a little by revealing as much as you did…I don’t think most people would have…but I really don’t mind. It’s easier for me to understand data when it’s clearly delineated and I don’t have to make inferences and base conclusions around conjecture.” The glass eye glittered as it studied her, leaving the herald to wonder whether she had been talking too much just then. The avian’s expression was difficult to read. “From my perspective, I was not revealing anything. I have nothing I particularly wish to keep hidden—save my location, a rather moot point in your case—and care little for the secrets and intrigues that so captivate Helena’s heart. My nature is known well enough to those aware of my existence to begin with. Were you to ask the other Servers about me, each would likely supply largely the same information as what you just heard, though their words would be colored by differing perspectives. When last I looked upon their hearts, I found that they saw me with eyes of contempt, irritation, irreverence, apathy, utility…and pity.” The Server gave a deep, rumbling sigh and rubbed his brow. “Yes, the last stems from the one you now serve, little Mobian, and in some ways it is the hardest of all to bear. Salasia embraces change, the willingness to let go, and it is my inability to so adapt from one Cycle to the next that she pities. She is ever the most affected, the most altered, by The Wheel’s turns, and by our standards her memory is not a long one. Yet the compassion in her heart is as old and deeply rooted as it is strong, stretching back far beyond her earliest recollections. She alone of the others would now call me friend. Not peer, not ally, but friend.” “So…why have you isolated yourself from Queen Salasia along with everyone else? I understand wanting be alone sometimes, but everyone needs friends, right?” “Her offers are often tempting, I will concede, and for a time I took them, letting her get close whilst keeping all else at arm’s length. But her view of friendship toward me, though genuine, is the relationship between a caretaker and an old dotard, not equals. That rankled me, and though I suffered it, in the end I found that I could not bear her continued changes from one Cycle to the next. She would still see me as a friend, but she would not be the friend I knew, with more and more of our shared history becoming forever limited to my memories as those precious moments of laughter and companionship were lost to hers.” The crow turned upon his stool toward the adjacent table and began tinkering with something upon it, though from her current angle Milly could not see above its rim. “Still…she remains persistent, which brings us to you being here, Mildrid. Tell me, am I correct in assuming that you were sent here with a request from Salasia for me to meet with her? That she would have me join her not merely in friendship but duty, that the balance of the world is in jeopardy and I am needed to once more act as mediator among the Servers?” Milly blinked, surprised at his astuteness. If he knew what was at stake, why was he still isolated like this? “Well…yes, sir. The Soviets have conquered my former home and have access to the ley lines there. With the Master Emerald shattered, Queen Salasia fears that—” She was interrupted by bitter laughter. “The Soviets? Mere motes of dust in the wind. Their kind almost always rise to prominence several times over the course of a Cycle, but seldom will a single movement last longer than a mere century, perhaps two. Even by the ephemeral standards of nations they are fleeting, destructive and imposing though they might seem in the moment.” “’Might seem?’ People like Jaeger and his followers are evil! They conquer and kill innocents, bringing nothing but misery! I don’t really even understand politics, but even I can see that! Why can’t you?” “You mistake my lack of concern for approval. I do not condone the violent actions of such extremists, but I do see them in a larger context that most mortals fail to. Movements, countries, empires…they come and go, rise and fall, whether they be communist, democratic, or monarchical. Lives are caught up and consumed in their wakes, but the grave dug today is simply one not dug tomorrow. Anyone slain by this Jaeger or those like him would have died soon enough anyway.” Milly clenched a fist, glaring at the giant. She had genuinely felt sorry for him before, but to hear him be so dismissive of everything she had just been through, and what so many others were still experiencing, was infuriating. Still, she held her tongue as he continued. “The rest of what you describe is much the same, just on a larger scale. The negation of the Master Emerald and removal of its Barriers is a comparatively rare thing, not guaranteed to happen within a given Cycle. To the other Servers it seems a momentous occasion that they have only experienced a few times, one ripe with possibility. But I have seen the Barriers come and go many, many times, and while the initial aftermath of their disappearance does vary, in broad strokes the process tends to fall into one of a number of patterns. Some are relatively peaceful, others see periods of great upheaval, culminating in eventual stability or the start of a new Cycle. If the planet’s ley lines are indeed being tampered with, it may well prove to be the latter.” He grimaced. “The horrors of Spirit World’s darker recesses being unleashed upon the Material Plane has a tendency of triggering the reset, after all. Should that happen, Mildred, I would advise petitioning Salasia to take you into the Andarra for those last few days. It would be far more…comfortable…than the alternative.” “HOW CAN YOU EVEN SAY THAT?!” The polar bear snapped, getting to her feet and leveling an accusing finger at the old crow. “You talk about lives like they don’t even matter! About wars and…and the end of the world as though they’re pointless! Don’t you even care?!” “OF COURSE I CARE, SALASIA! THAT IS PRECISELY THE PROBLEM!” Solaris was on his feet in an instant, drawn to his full height and crystalline wings outstretched, the hood of his robes whipping back as his deafening voice thundered throughout the room with the force of an earthquake. Tables rattled and a number of objects fell from their wall-mounted shelves as columns of gravel and dust cascaded from the ceiling. Milly’s stool was knocked over and with a scream she careened toward the floor, hitting it hard and feeling the wind knocked out of her. Even when she tried to rise a moment later, she found herself unable to, though not due to any sort of injury. It felt as if an avalanche of invisible rocks had descended upon her, pinning her in place as the pressure continued to build, slowly crushing her. For the first time since escaping Doomsday, Milly felt sheer, absolute terror. Please, God…please don’t let…me… Then the pressure was gone and the shaking room went still. With a shuddering cough, the young herald managed to force air back into her lungs, after which she lay there for a time, still save for her breathing as she tried to recover. When she did look up, she found Solaris crouching over her, hood drawn once more, his expression contrite and crestfallen. “Mildrid? Mildrid, are…are you alright?” “I…think so…just—ouch! Just sore…” The Server gingerly picked her up with both hands and carried her over to the table where he had been sitting. After laying the polar bear down upon its surface, he dismissively waved a hand behind his head, causing the other effects of his outburst to be reversed like a video being rewound in a VCR. Objects flew back to their shelves and Milly’s stool reoriented itself, while bits of dust and rock ascended toward the ceiling, leaving the floor once again spotless. “I am deeply, deeply sorry about that, dear child,” Solaris sighed as he collapsed back onto his stool, looking and sounding very tired. “It was most unintentional. At times, I…I lose myself, you see. As I have said, my memories are so vivid as to be nigh indistinguishable from the present. On occasion, even after all this time, when the now becomes similar enough to a certain moment within the then…that very fine line between the two disappears.” “You…called me Salasia. Does that mean—?” “Yes. That final question you posed, whether…whether I even care…” He closed his eyes. “She asked me that during our last meeting, not long before the Barriers rose. She had come here for much the same purpose as she now sends you, seeking my aid in various matters. When I refused, she lashed out in frustration, and I did the same in kind. It was not a serious fight, of course, nor our first, but even an argument of words between two Chaos Servers can be devastating if it gets heated enough, as I am sure you can now imagine, and that was our worst in eons.” He cracked open his working eye, a ghost of a smile appearing on his features, the first genuine one she had seen from him. “You are quite resilient for one so small. That ounce of my power would have inflicted serious injury or worse upon most mortals, even heralds, and when I realized what had happened I initially expected to have to reverse the effects. I could still do so, of course, if you desire.” At the shake of her head he nodded, the glimpse of glass vanishing. “With both of us venting upon the other, half the mountain had been leveled by the time Salasia departed. The damage to it was of no consequence, but as years passed I was left to wonder whether our relationship would be so easily repaired…and whether I truly even wanted it to be. Then the Master Emerald was remade, cementing our separation. Your arrival is the first I have heard from her since that day. Strange that she should opt to leap directly back into the sort of matter that soured our last meeting, it is unlike her. She usually chooses to lead with an olive branch. Perhaps she is desperate.” “Queen Salasia did seem rather anxious when she sent me here. Maybe part of it was due to you two having parted on bad terms…that was the case with my grandmother and I just before she disappeared for a long time, and I really regretted it deep down until we finally saw each other again…but things are pretty awful in the world right now, with signs suggesting they’re about to get much, much worse. I’m not very good with metaphors, but it’s like…it’s like we’re experiencing the first few flakes of a huge blizzard that’s yet to fully burst but will at any moment. Can’t you help us?” “I am sorry, Mildrid. Truly, I am. But…I cannot bear to be dragged down the path of involvement again. Were I to do so, it would likely be millennia before I would manage to fully extricate myself from the affairs of the world once more. As I said, I do care, and with that caring comes pain. My heart would invariably become invested in the affairs of the world and the people living in it. I would become fond of individuals and watch over them, cultivate acolytes and appoint heralds as I have so many times before over the long march of time. And that march would claim all of them without exception, in one manner or another, leaving them to be either remade unremembering or sent to their eternal destinations, beyond my sight. Only the other members of the Seven would remain, and to be among them cuts the deepest. No, little one, I am cursed with far, far too many memories as it is. I have no wish to make more.” “But you could still do so much good! Make the world a better place and help the lives of people while they last! Doesn’t that matter, at least?” Solaris leaned his head back, staring up into the dark at something unseen or perhaps nothing at all. “None of it matters. You yourself are new to me, Mildrid, but I have had variations of this conversation hundreds of times across dozens of Cycles. Some, as I alluded to, were with Salasia. Many were with her emissaries, individuals like you. Some were with different members of the Seven, and others still were with their followers. In each, I was appealed to, asked to assist with some matter and given justifications for why I should do so. In most of those cases I refused…but not all. At times I consented and begrudgingly left my haven, amassing the courage to try once more and immerse myself in the evanescent seas of the other planes. And yes, in some of those cases I helped…for an eyeblink, supplying mediation, averting crises, ‘making the world better.’ But the world never stayed that way. Death took those I saved, wars fractured bonds I had mended, the onset of new Cycles wiped away all that had been built.” The old crow looked back down at her, his countenance severe. “And those were the more successful cases. I am not God, my influence and intervention not infallible. On numerous occasions I gave my all, and even in the short term my efforts were for naught. Apocalyptic wars were waged between my kin or the Material Plane consumed itself in nuclear fire or the floodgates of the Underworld were loosed.” Perhaps due to Milly’s horrified expression, his own then softened. “Conversely, there were times when my aid was beseeched, when it was said that the Cycle would surely end without my help, I refused…and the crisis in question was averted anyway, whether through the influence of the other Servers, the efforts of Man and Mobian, or simply the work of Providence. I am not telling you these things so that you may succumb to despair or nihilism; I do not wish for you or anyone else to become like me. When you leave this place without me, know that the coming storm may yet be averted, leaving you and those you hold dear to live long, fruitful, happy lives. Know that the potential you yourself have in contributing to that aversion should not be underestimated. But also know that for one such as I, it ultimately makes no difference. The only choices that truly matter are those that guide souls to their final fates, and such things are beyond my jurisdiction.” “But you can make a difference, even if you yourself won’t really benefit. Isn’t that selfish? I mean, isn’t this your duty?” The glass orb swiveled in a complete rotation, the single eye rolling with enough force to more than account for its still counterpart. “I have been alive for longer than you can possibly truly fathom, child. And for most of that time, I did perform my duties, at great personal expense. I should think I am entitled to some measure of selfishness at this point. Or do you spend every waking instant of your life actively working toward Salasia’s directives of purification and cleansing?” Milly frowned in surprise, not sure whether to feel guilty at the accusation. “Well, no…but I still perform my duties when I need to. It’s why I’m here now. I haven’t just given up.” “Nor should you. A certain apostle, nearing the end of his life, once boasted that he had kept the faith up until the very end, fighting the good fight and finishing his race. He was right to do so, for he was a great man after his eyes were opened. You should strive to be able to say the same on your own deathbed. But for me…there is no crown of righteousness to look forward to, no great reward. At least, none that I can see. My race goes on and on, and for some time now I have felt that it has gone on longer than I can endure. I know academically that the Cycles are not infinite, that one day The Wheel will at last be broken, never to turn again, and the yoke of time taken from me and unmade. But it feels like a matter of faith at this point, faith that I have failed to keep. Be grateful that you are not me. Be grateful that the race the Most High has set before you is so short.” “You sound…well…bitter, sir. Is that…is that really how you feel toward God?” The Server sighed, looking down toward his clawed feet. “Perhaps it is, yes, at times, though I know it to be wrong. I suppose, though, that if anyone is truly to be blamed it is myself. Like the others of my kind, I was given a charge, a purpose, and though some of them have lost their way, become twisted, I am the only one who so struggles to live with himself. I could keep trying, learn to adapt and let go of the past. You yourself are here on behalf of someone who still believes I can do just that, who would help me and be my friend even though I do not deserve it. But I do not.” He coughed several times, a great wind coming from his beak that, though partially blocked by his arm and largely aimed downward, was still enough to blow the polar bear’s teal hair backward. “And now, Mildrid, I must ask you to leave my realm. I have spoken quite enough for now, I think. Go back to your master with a heart unburdened by feelings of failure, knowing that you did the best you could. Give her my apologies…and my thanks. My thanks for not giving up on me.” He offered her a sad smile. “May your life be a long and merry one. You do indeed seem an agreeable sort.” A long, somber moment passed before Milly nodded, crestfallen despite his assurances, wanting to argue more, to find some means of convincing him to give the world, to give living, another chance but finding no words which seemed sufficient. This was clearly a very old wound, one that likely transcended the limits of her possible understanding. It was not some computational problem that could be answered with enough logic or a damaged part that could be repaired via sufficient research and experimentation. She was dealing with a person, ancient and impossibly complex, and if Queen Salasia in all her wisdom had proven unable to sway him, what could one such as she realistically hope to achieve when normal individuals consistently proved to be beyond her? The polar bear clambered to her feet, coughing herself as she shifted her still-sore body upright and prompting Solaris to peer down at her. “Would you care for some water before you leave? Salasia will not be able to retrieve you until reach the surface, and though you will now find the route illuminated, it is not a particularly short distance for one of your stature.” At her nod, he looked upward and spoke in a firm, commanding voice. “Noctua, Columba! Bring drink for our visitor and I!” Milly presently heard the sound of whirring and clanking, and a moment later two mechanical birds of disparate sizes came fluttering down from the direction of the unseen ceiling, both carrying clay cups of commensurate measurement. The much larger of the two, an owl, hovered in front of Solaris long enough for him to take his drink, after which it alighted on the Server’s shoulder, staring down at her with gleaming golden eyes. Its counterpart, a dove, set down on the table in front of the polar bear, nudging the cup it had deposited forward with its head before looking up to study her as well. “I hope you will find the quality of the water to your liking. I deem it serviceable, but typically servants of the Asterite are rather particular when it comes to—” “AMAZING!!!” “—hm?” Milly was beside herself as she looked upon the two artificial avians before her, all thoughts of soreness, water, and her sobering discussion with the Server momentarily forgotten as she darted this way and that to get a good look at the dove from every angle she could. Like the owl, the bird was covered in bronze-colored plating, though she could not be sure whether that was the actual material employed. Visible along the undersides of its wings and along its breast were various shifting gears, springs, and pistons all working in tandem to produce lifelike motions, though to her surprise—and fascination—she saw no trace of wires or servomotors. As she did so, her mouth ran a mile a minute, verbalizing the sudden flood of thoughts upon her mind as fast as it possibly could. “Hi there! I’m Milly! Well, my name is technically Mildred, but I really don’t prefer when people use that. What’s your name? I’m guessing you’re Columba, right? Since that means ‘dove’ in Latin? What are you made of? Bronze? Copper? Synthetic alloy? Metal unique to this realm? I don’t see any wiring, are you really a Clockwork robot? If so, that’s incredible! I thought applications of that kind of technology this advanced were only theoretical! Are you self-perpetuating? I’m into electrically powered robots myself. I mean, not into them into them…well, mostly; there is this one android friend of mind I really do like, but I’m still not sure whether he feels the same way. There’s this dance coming up at school and he still hasn’t said anything. Granted, he’s not technically a student there, and realistically we’d have to break in after hours because dancing together in public would expose him to the general populace when he’s supposed to be a secret due to being wanted by various cutthroat international parties, to say nothing of the violation of numerous assumed social taboos that would lead to relentless mockery, shunning, and persecution by those opposed to organic-machine relationships…” “Mildrid.” “…my roommate Az says I should just take the first step at this point and ask him, but I get so nervous and sweaty when I think about it! Hey, you don’t talk much. Do you lack a vocabulator? That’s okay, I won’t judge! We can still be friends regardless of the sophistication of your intelligence, though I am kinda curious as to your level of cognizance. Can you understand me? Blink once for yes, twice for no. Wait, I haven’t determined whether you can blink. Can you blink? Blink once for yes and stamp your right foot a little for no…” “Mildrid…” Upon hearing his him, she looked up at Solaris, though her verbal cascade was merely redirected, not abated. “Oh, right! Almost forgot you were standing there for a sec. Did you make these two? Do you have any more? Not that I don’t think these two are fascinating, they absolutely are, I’m just curious. I knew this was a workshop! I had one like it back in my old home village, but it kinda…blew up. Not my fault, long story! Metal and I have been getting one set up in Az’s basement, but some of the tools are surprisingly hard to come by. Hey, do Noctua and Columba utilize Chaos energy in their designs? If so, can I supply that type of power myself even though I’m connected to the Andarra and not the Diamond? If not and they’re fully mechanical, I have a lot of questions, like how did you solve the—?” “MILDRID!” The sound of a Chaos Server’s raised voice was enough to at last halt the hypervocalizing polar bear’s enthusiastic frenzy, and after actually looking at him and his raised eyebrows for a long heartbeat, she realized too late that she had her arms wrapped around the rather confused-looking mechanical dove in a tight hug. A half-remembered threat concerning the cosmic void echoing through her mind, she hurriedly disengaged herself and turned toward her host, wringing her hands sheepishly. “Sorry! I’m so sorry! It’s just…you see…well, when they I saw them and this one landed right next to me, I…” she stammered before at last taking a deep breath and finishing. “I like robots. I really, really like robots.” “I gathered,” the old crow replied dryly. “I must admit, your degree of enthusiasm for automata surprises me. Most mortals view the subject with apathy, superficial interest stemming more from novelty or fanciful imaginings than fact, or through the lenses of profit or utility. Your passion, conversely, seems both deep-rooted and bolstered by some measure of experience.” “Yes, sir. I’ve been into computers and robotics since I was little. I used to have my own workshop where I’d tinker and experiment with pretty much any bits of tech I could get my hands on, and eventually I became skilled enough to do repairs and odd jobs to get by, though the money’s more of a necessary perk than anything. Still, I never got a chance to interact with anything really advanced until recently, during the events that led to me meeting Queen Salasia, and the robots I met then are quite different from these. So I, um, got a little excited…” Solaris leaned forward, inscrutably studying Milly closely for over a minute in silence. Eventually, however, a small smile settled upon his features. “In light of your professional experience, I suppose I can forego having you take the roundabout way back to your body, despite your rash behavior. Yes, I did build these two. Time may be the cornerstone of my domain, but it is not the full extent of it. Crafting and invention fall within its sphere as well, and those aspects have seen me through much of my seclusion. Automata such as these do not age and I can keep them from falling into disrepair indefinitely, so they keep me company. As to whether I have more…” He gestured toward behind Milly and she turned around, mouth dropping as she took in the contents of the table she was on for the first time. It was covered in parts, tools, and clockwork machines in various states of assembly. A quick scan of the other tables and shelves throughout the room, now more visible from this elevated height, revealed much the same. “This is just my work room,” Solaris added, a hint of pride in his voice. “Most of the completed models are elsewhere in the mountain.” “YOU…ARE…SO…COOL….” “Hmph! I have heard that curious bit of vernacular across a number of Cycles, but for someone to actually refer to me as such…that is a rare first.” The excited young herald glanced back at the crow, who nodded in consent and watched as she hurried over to inspect the assembled objects on the table one by one, eventually settling on a half-assembled Mobian lion that she set to trying to work on using the parts at hand. They were oversized for her in many cases, as were the tools, but that did not dim her efforts in the slightest. “Rare indeed,” Solaris murmured. “Well played, my old friend.” She worked while he watched for an unknown period of time, its passage masked as much by her obsessive interest as the inherent difficulty of gauging it while within a Server’s realm. Gradually, however, her thoughts wandered back to their earlier conversation. She mulled over that decidedly less pleasant stretch of her time here, a part of her mind again attempting to make headway in that area while the rest was occupied with the lion. Eventually, something came to her. “My friend Rotor Walrus would really love it here, Mister Solaris. I know you don’t like company very much, but he’s a much more skilled hands-on mechanic than I am. The two of you would probably have quite a bit in common, even though he’s a mortal.” “Hmm…though I never interacted with him, I know of the man, or at least prior versions of him. This is his third Cycle, I think.” “Well, the current Rotor and I grew up together. We shared a lot of the same interests and were very close, always tinkering and trying to invent things when we weren’t reading comic books or watching sci-fi shows and movies. But our home was in a pretty isolated part of the world, and as we grew older we both started to yearn for opportunity elsewhere, in more advanced societies with cutting-edge technology. Eventually…Rotor got that chance. He did and I didn’t. I was sad, and maybe a little jealous, but it was a once-in-a-lifetime offer, a dream scholarship halfway around the globe, and I convinced him to take it. Several years passed, and we’d write to each other here and there, but over time the correspondence slowly dried up. It was obvious that he was busy but happy, doing what he was meant to be, and I started to accept that I might never see him again.” She turned to Solaris, eyes damp with memory. “But when he got word that forces were in motion that endangered his old home, Rotor came back. He left a safe paradise and came back into what eventually became a warzone for us, for me. He saved my life, multiple times, and along with our other friends we eventually managed to avert a disaster that Queen Salasia says would probably have ended this Cycle. But…it cost him. Not that much physically, just some scrapes and burns here and there, but…he had to kill someone for the first time. He did it to save me, and no one blames him for it, but…well, even though I don’t think any of us have been sleeping as well as we did before, Rotor’s been particularly affected by everything that happened back there. Sometimes I wonder if he’ll ever be the same as he was. But if he hadn’t done what he did…if he hadn’t left his safe new home behind to come back…I wouldn’t be here right now. It’s possible that no one on Earth would be.” The glass eye narrowed at her, making it obvious that the reason for that particular recounting had not gone unnoticed. Then it disappeared as Solaris bowed his head low, remaining still and silent for so long that the polar bear half-wondered whether he had fallen asleep. At length, however, the gleam returned, and with it a soft whisper. “It…sounds like you and your friend went through quite the ordeal together. Would you…would you mind recounting it to me, in full? I am afraid the details are not known to me. I could scry most of them, of course, the events now being in the past, but I think I would prefer to hear them from your perspective.” She walked up to the edge of the table toward him, surprised, a flicker of hope within her heart. “Are…are you sure? It’s kind of a sad story…and a pretty long one.” Solaris smiled. “That is quite alright, Milly. After all, I have nothing but time.” 1 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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