An Age of Mysterious Memories

Anyway, where are we at? Other than in the security center. Let’s not get snarky with ourselves right now. Selves, plural Reggie, really? Shush, it’s like the—what is it, royal? Imperial?—we. Keep telling yourself that pal. Keep telling yourself that.

Blushing, I avert my own gaze as I realize several that those of several others in the room are leveled at me. I wave off the questions about my mental health before they’re posed, and thankfully no one presses the issue. Better, I’m handed a mirror through which I see a familiar smiling face, one that’s absolutely exuberant, its teal hues lovely to gaze upon as her smile is wide to her ears.

Almost ridiculously cheerfully, Tiktik exclaims, “Tiger! This is the best present ever! You’ll let me talk to Bitty on this too, right? Oh, oh! And Big T too of course! Of course you would, you’re a true pal, and a whole lot more when we’re alone together. Especially when we’re alone and between the sheets, rawr.”

Steaming from my collar, I tug at it and blush at the several raised eyebrows about the room. I’m pretty certain that they know by now, that I don’t come equipped with any between-the-sheets biology, and I really don’t want to explain what Tiktik is alluding to. Gulping, I mumble and politely excusing myself from the Strategists-Eight for a bit of privacy to connect with Tiktik. Unlike other fae, I’ve got these hangups, and I’m not quite as comfortable advertising my dalliances, preferences, or proclivities, to those around me. Thankfully, I’m surrounded by dragons, fae, and family, none of whom really care.

Whew, I’m nearly panting from stress as I sigh with relief in a private alcove, a couple of tunnels away from the Strategists-Eight. Tiktik’s joy is slowly leaving her face as I calm down from being hot under the collar in order to address her. I hate seeing that joy leave, so I make haste as best I can.

Gathering myself, I start, “Hey Kitten, yeah, of course I will, of course I will. Sorry, was just a bit more crowded than I’d like for there to be any talk of, koff, ahem, between-the-sheets activities.”

Before I can get around to my point, Tiktik pouts and responds, “Oh you fuddy-duddy. You should be proud, and chasing around all the sheets to get between. If you know what I mean. Ya dig? Only don’t, because you’ll get dirty.”

Unable to help snorting a half laugh, and nearly rolling my eyes a quarter of the way, I try to rein in our conversation, “Tiktik, love, I have serious matters that I need your help with. I know that the Aasimovians don’t really have a way to say no, or to prevent me from doing so, but I’d still like to get their permission to evacuate our civilians to their new settlement if the worst comes to pass. I’ll talk to Harriet or Tiago or the others on other mirrors, either with you as a group, or later, but I want everyone apprised on the state of the war.”

Frowning, Tiktik queries, “Is it that bad Tiger? You have to make evacuation plans?”

Drawing a ragged breath, my face quirks and my shoulders half shrug, giving off the so-so vibe as I answer, “Maybe, sort of, probably. I’ve given up on taking the most extreme, direct route to being able to enable and proceed with an evacuation. That’d have been me going to the ‘Twixt. Yes, of course I’d have taken you, but hold on, don’t pout yet. I can’t leave Solace. Terrorzin, the Ice of Rage, the leader of dragonkind intent on burning the world down during this year of his fated death, is on the move. He’s got an army forty-thousand strong moving with him, and they’re a week from our doorstep.”

Tiktik’s face is ashen as she gazes wide-eyed through the mirror at me in shock, staring at my mouth, wondering if she heard correctly. I nod before continuing, “Our assaults on his fortresses have to halt, even though he supposedly has yet another thirty to forty-thousand forces in store. We were supposedly dealing with maybe eighty-thousand all-told at the start of the war, and we’ve knocked about fifteen to twenty k off the board, or taken them in as refugees, and we’re still this outmatched.”

Pausing, I clench my eyes and jaw momentarily before adding, “I, urgh, I hate sounding so callous, talking about lives as just numbers of forces. It shreds my heart to distance myself from the reality that—despite most of them being brainwashed—they’re all still people. I just, I can’t afford to dwell on that, with so much stacked against us, with our SAP being the backbone, claws, and teeth, at the head of our fighting forces. I—.”

Cooing, Tiktik shushes me, “Shhh Tiger, I get it. I do. I know what I signed up for with you and Big T. Three apocalypses. That was the deal, and we haven’t even stopped the one yet. Just ran away from it. Word from a little birdie tells me Aasimovia looks like a mix of barren, charred land, or a sea of angry flesh. I’m worried about any Felgres that sweep east along the coast out of Aasimovia, because if they wrap around the mountain range, they’ll be at the edges of the Fae’s Wilds. Our illustrious archfey’ll keep them out, but it’s still scary, thinking my fam could be close to the hellish hordes.”

Friggin’ heck I love this woman. Closing my eyes, I draw a deep breath and sigh. After centering myself, I redirect Tiktik, “Aye, I’m worried about the residents of the Fae’s Wilds too, which is why I was hoping you’d take one of the extra mirrors, and see if you can get your ‘Twixt entry from Jeegoobotstan to link up to your ‘Twixt entry at The Tear in the Fae’s Wilds. If you can get it to Jarrah Bettergrove, or Anubis, Bastet, Mab, or Oberon, I’d do what I can to coordinate eventual protection of the Wilds high on our priorities. Though I’d also like to ask permission to evacuate our civilians, and yours, there, if things go from bad to worse.”

Blinking, stunned, Tiktik cartoonishly cleans out her lovely, enormous ears. Once she’s done with her bit of visual humor, Tiktik nods and affirms, “Yeah, sure thing Tiger. I’ll hop to it and get right on that when we’re done talking. I’ll talk to Bitty from the ‘Twixt, and—.”

Tiktik understands immediately what the sorrowful look on my face means. Pouting, she mutters, “Oh, okay. I guess however long, however many adventures I have in the ‘Twixt to be able to link up the new entry to my old entry, I’ll, I’ll just handle, and deal with. Guess that means I won’t be seeing you for a while Tiger, though to you, I’ll be back in no time at all.”

My heart aches, asking this of Tiktik. If it takes the exact same amount of time, it’d be about a week of adventuring, likely on her lonesome. Worse, it could be months, or years. She’d be alone all that while. Tiktik’d enter alone, due to how powerful she is, and how dangerous it’d be to take someone without powers into her ‘Twixt. Unless she’s made friends with one of the dragons like Driezyln, or whatever their name was. Though even then, she’d probably hesitate to bring in such a friend, for a number of reasons.

Our chat becomes more somber, and more methodical, as I rejoin the Strategists-Eight, with Tiktik on-call as it were. The twin Reds are okay, as is Leezahna’s mother, whom is just as annoying and haughty as I’d imagined her to be. Leeza’s little sister though is a precious bundle of joy, if a little snotty. She latches onto Tiktik though. And of course, Tiktik bonds with her instantly through humor. Glad to get to see Tiktik find yet more sources of joy, I’m almost sad to have to continue attending to other matters, rather than continuing chatting with her.

Harriet, Tiago, George, Elder of the kobold clan, and a few human leaders from around Aasimovia weigh in on a shared call with me and the Strategists-Eight. I wish Kinzul could have been here for this, or really anyone else at all, but I guess I’m the outward face of the Onyx Dawn for now. Thankfully Ixey is representing our interests—those of Mount Solace and all its citizens—in-person, and manages to be perfectly charming all the while as our ambassador.

My brain feels like mush as we coordinate, clarify, query and explain to one another as groups. It feels even more mush-like after we mull over logistics, strategy, and objectives for what feels like hours while I work directly in the security center, or occasionally nearby, maintaining telepathic contact. Thankfully, the Aasimovians are plenty receptive to the plight of our citizens during our war, and grateful of our pledge of protection against the Felgre horde, should we win our war and survive. Plus, I mean, they’ll have no trouble sustaining extra mouths, since I personally provided them a way to generate unlimited provisions.

Our true battle in this war has begun in earnest. The end is in sight. Which end? Anyone’s guess at this point. Are we ready for this? Hardly. We’re all going to give it our all though, and I’ve got one or two tricks up my sleeve. Speaking of one of those tricks, it’s dangerous to even pretend I can rely on it as a backup. I hesitate as I recall the defectors from the Lavaborn Alliance, the critterkin that Mata had swayed to attack us. Critterkin I decimated, wiped out in an instant in one timeline. That’s one time I used the trick. Hell, not a trick, my primary method of attack back on Can’Z’aas.

I’m pretty sure if I call out to Can’Z’aas again on any scale between that attack, and my efforts to drive off the Damnations, it’s going to finish me off, and finally kill me. The mana lacerations were so bad, that it felt like every motion until I passed out was racing me headlong towards my demise.

It’s a bit of a last-resort, to attempt calling upon my Can’Z’aasian powers, but it is an option. Well, okay, it’s probably the last of the last resorts at this point, an almost guaranteed death. Kinzul has expressly forbade it, according to Nietru, knowing the likely price I’ll pay if I engage my powers again. If she falls though, if I’m all that’s standing in the way of thousands of dragonkin, I’d probably do it. Let’s not think about the worst case scenarios and last-resorts right now though.

We’ve got actionable objectives to accomplish throughout Solace. Some of it is prep for in case the siege actually makes it through all of our defenders, though that’s a tiny fraction of what I’m attending to today, before our major offensive push. Glancing at the various scrying sensors in the security center, Teuila is embroiled in battle, as usual.

Oddly, her and Luni are out defending Mah’ruke together at the moment. Fenric and Gil are up on the aerie with Veril and Farzhis, which is doubly odd. I thought those two were headed with Illy to make a first surgical strike. Illy does seem to be positioning herself for a dive through the Worldstorm, far northwest of Wistenzlia. Did she not trust her subordinates? Were they not fit for duty? Where the hell is Induul? Ugh, my head, my temples.

Prinrin and Miraina are shoring up internal defenses, which is good news at least. Yuri is still in the infirmary, but tinkering with some spellwork. Yui seems to have set out, headed through a segment of the siege to get to Vieriss Valley. Kinzul is somewhere off-site again, and of course not wearing a pair of goggles, unfortunately. I guess she could be getting in position to attempt fine-control over the Worldstorm, in order to be able to secure her daughter’s escape after her surgical strike. Be careful Illy.

Speaking of that, Nietru gave me a note from Kinzul, encoded, supposedly in a language no one on Rayileklia should be able to speak or read. Good thing I’ve got that permanent written-linguistic comprehension enchantment. I was given instructions to not read it until I was somewhere out of range of all of my other telepathic connections, to not even risk reading it even if my walls are up. Talk about ominous. Since there’s one or two things I can accomplish above Solace, a couple of kilometers out, in defense of Solace, prepping for things yet to come, I head off to take care of those.

Since I’m out here, far from every other mind, I glance at the encoded message from Kinzul, and it reads thusly, “My love, so that none of your strategies rely upon it, and so that you harbor no ill suspicions upon your discovery of this fact, I must tell you a dire secret. I’m hollowing out the Worldstorm, siphoning back as much of my dragonforce as possible, leaving the illusion of the deadly impenetrable cloudbanks above and below. In reality, there shall only be a few meters of storm, perhaps a few hundred, at each end. As you might guess, this is in order to resist Terrorzin’s Latent expression of his dragonforce. Since that fraction of my life’s essence, my dragonforce, is cultivated so specifically for what it was, for so many years, my desperate grab to reabsorb it will be incredibly inefficient, costing me much. The enchantment, or at least the belief in its effectiveness, must remain however, until the last of Terrorzin’s forces have fallen…”

My trembling hands lose their hold on the note as a strong breeze whips up, and—almost seemingly to spite me—it falls into the Worldstorm’s edges, and is incinerated by a passing bolt of lightning before I can even react.