Chapter 167: The Wanderer

Amelia woke, her instincts prickling her.

Something was near.

Just as she climbed to her feet, a shriek pierced the air. A desperate noise. Something between the noise of a prey caught in the jaws of a predator and a woman screaming for help. It was animalistic and human. Natural and unnatural.

“Help me!” the voice screamed.

“C-contact!” came Hinako’s panicked shout. The mage had taken first watch.

Amelia ran to the entrance. Serena, Mel, and Finella followed a moment later.

“Help!” the voice cried. The desert wind had picked up, throwing the area into a sandstorm. The blustering wall of sand and noise did little to hide the cry for help. It pierced through, reaching their ears as if it had been spoken directly next to them.

“Help me!”

“There’s someone out there!” Hinako shouted.

“What in the Seven Hells?” Finella muttered, drawing her sword and pushing her aura into orange. Mel followed suit, echoing the actions of her superior. Serena, on the other hand, took a step forward and placed a cautious hand on the hilt of her firejade sword. 

“Could it be the other group?” Mel asked.

They gathered at the entrance, naturally falling into a defensive formation, peering into the darkness. The wind lifted not just sand, but all the micro fragments of crystal that created aetheric noise. Even with her enhanced senses, it was hard for Amelia to—

“There’s someone there!” Mel shouted, pointing.

They turned as one, focusing in on the indicated area.

“Where, Officer Mori?” Serena asked.

“It was there, by the wall,” Mel said. “Someone standing in the storm!”

“Not someone,” Finella said, narrowing her eyes. “Something.” The Northerner turned her gaze to Amelia and then to Serena. “Spirits, Captain. Desert spirits. We were warned about them. There is no—”

“Save me!” a shrieking voice came, sending an icy shiver down Amelia’s neck.

“There!” Mel said quickly. “By the skimmer pens!”

This time, Amelia saw it.

The shape of someone in the sandstorm. They weren’t corporeal. At least, not fully. There was a subtle darkness about their figure, but it was mainly the sand in the air that defined their form. Just as it had when Amelia was seen in the Shimmer by the other group.

Amelia pushed her aether, flicking her vision into the sepia layer of reality.

“It’s them,” she said. “The djinn Asrar talked about. I can see them in the Shimmer.”

“Them?” Serena asked.

“Yeah,” Amelia said. “There are two, no, three. Maybe more.”

“What do they look like?” Serena asked.

“Like Anathor,” Amelia said. “Less vibrant, but more… formed.” Only the djinn’s torso and head seemed defined in a blurred shade of slate grey. Where the djinn’s arms and legs would be, dozens of faint trails of ochure-coloured ribbons flowed, moving like silk in a gentle breeze. The djinn’s face was featureless, but somehow Amelia could tell it was looking at them. At her.

“Help!” the djinn shouted. “I need help!”

“Stand by,” Serena said. There was the faintest tone of nervousness in her voice, so subtle that only Amelia could have picked up on it. Whatever her girlfriend’s doubts, she maintained her composure as she instructed, “Amelia, you can see them best. If they come close or attack us or the skimmers.” Serena looked at her. “Don’t hesitate.”

“I won’t,” Amelia said, surprised by how resolute she sounded.

“Ice spirits don’t cause harm,” Finella said quickly. “But they sometimes approach travellers out of curiosity. These could be the same, no?”

“Given the stories we’ve heard, Officer Bright…” Serena’s expression darkened, and she drew her sword. “I won’t take the chance.” She twisted her foot, digging into a stance. “Damn this blasted place. If they don’t leave, we’ll attack.”

And so, the standoff began.

Amelia spotted at least six djinn flying about, shrieking their cries. They slipped through the air, riding on the turbulent aetheric currents of the sandstorm, looping around archways and down and up the sandstone walls. They would stop now and again, shout something, and then twist away. They spoke in Imperial and Hakian, before switching to other languages, none of which she recognised.

After a minute of them holding firm at the entrance, the djinn changed their tactics. They seemed to understand that they were aware their cries for help weren’t producing any results, so they changed their words. As their words changed, so did the tone of their voices; less desperate and more threatening.

“Not welcome, not welcome…”

“Leave! Leave or die!”

“It is not possible! Not possible!”

“He comes!”

The last cry came just as Amelia’s instincts pulled her attention to a point down the valley. Another djinn approached. This one carried with it an aetheric weight that dwarfed the others. This one was much more like Anathor. A bundle of rippling ribbons, coalescing into the shape of a person. She watched as his shape formed, not just in the Shimmer, but in reality as well. Shape. Colour. Texture. The djinn formed into a person. A demon man.

The djinn dashed towards the man, swirling around him as if he were the centre of a tornado. They shouted something at him, in a language unknown to Amelia. The man shook his head, raised a hand and snapped his fingers.

An aetheric pulse burst from him, throwing the djinn away. They shrieked, or perhaps they were laughing, but nonetheless they flew away, leaving only the man in the valley. The sandstorm chose that time to die down, giving each of them a good look at each other. He had no irises or pupils; the man’s eyes glowed entirely with brilliance. A golden shining light that seemed to mist with aether.

Then, he spoke.

“Can I come in?” the man called.

No one said anything. The request was so unexpected, and spoken so casually in a normal voice, that everyone, including Amelia, was stunned. He bore the voice and appearance of a young man, dressed in simple travelling clothes. His features were plain, except his eyes.

“What the fuck?” Finella whispered.

“Be silent, Officer Bright,” Serena said quietly. She tightened her grip on her sword. The wind picked up, catching Serena’s black hair and throwing it about. Serena glared at the djinn and shouted, “You would not find us good company!” 

It was a defiant refusal, delivered with a tone of finality that only Serena could manage. It was an entirely appropriate response to a djinn requesting to enter their domain. Only… this one wasn’t a djinn.

“It’s a Formless,” Amelia said. “I’m sure of it.” Her words earned her a glance and acknowledgement from her girlfriend before their attention was drawn back to the figure and his blazing eyes.

The Formless reached his hand out, the simple motion prompting the warriors in their group to flare their aura, and Hinako to form a defensive ward. Amelia held off, for now. She wasn’t sure, but she had a feeling that this Formless wasn’t here to harm them. As far as she knew, there weren’t any records of Formless attacking others.

Or they did, and there were never any survivors.

She kept her magic ready.

The aetherfield around the Formless’ hand contorted. In the Shimmer, Amelia saw something manifest. No, not manifest. It was pulled from somewhere. Some layer of reality deeper than the Shimmer. Through the Shimmer it went, until it was held in the hand of the Formless in the material plane.

It was a bottle.

The Formless raised it. “I brought mead,” he said. He wiggled the bottle, as if the action would convince them of his sincerity. “I’m sure we’ll find lots to talk about.”

No one said anything for a few seconds.

“Again,” Finella whispered. “What the fuck?”

“Officer Bright!” Serena hissed.

Amelia took a step forward. She was sure now. “I don’t think he’s here to harm us.” She exchanged a look with Serena and added, “He must have been sent here.”

Serena nodded and called to the Formless, “Why are you here?”

The Formless took a few seconds to answer. “To talk.”

“With who?”

“With that one.” He raised a finger and pointed.

At Amelia.

“What about?” Serena called.

“Your mission,” the Formless replied.

Serena gritted her teeth. “Who sent you?” she shouted.

The Formless shrugged. “You know who.”

Serena and the Formless looked at each other for a long time. After a dozen seconds, Serena made a gesture with her sword. A gesture to approach. The Formless took a few steps, but a sudden symphony of angry clicking halted his steps. It was the sandskimmers. They’d lifted themselves from under their sandheaps, clicking at him. They began slamming their tails at the floor, both to sense the Formless and also as a warning.

“They don’t like our kind,” the Formless said, taking a few steps back. “Our nature is unnatural to them. I’m afraid you must come to me.”

“I can hear you fine from here!” Serena called.

The Formless’ face broke into an expression of exasperation. “My words are for the young saint, and her alone.” He tilted his head towards her and tapped his horns. “May I request the good lady’s company?”

Serena hesitated before looking at Amelia.

“It’s okay,” Amelia said. She took a step forward. “I’ll go to him, see what he wants.”

“It could be a trap,” Serena said. “Be careful.”

“I will.”

“Don’t hesitate to attack.”

“I won’t.” Amelia gave her girlfriend a wink. “I’ll be careful.”

She exited the cave and walked past the skimmer pens. The Formless had backed up to a sandstone wall where he had sat down. “Look,” he said when she got close, pointing suddenly to the wall. “It’s a wayrune. Almost buried.” The Formless traced a depression in the sandstone. Amelia followed his finger to see there was indeed some kind of carved writing. “Centuries ago, these were carved to help navigate this area. It’s not the only thing the desert hides.” He dug a small hole into the sand, exposing a bulbous plant. “A rocknut.” He tapped the rocknut’s fibrous shell. “There’s so much life under the sand, waiting for the water to return.”

Amelia swallowed. She glanced back at the entrance where everyone was watching, their expressions tense. She turned to the Formless. “You can interact with the physical world,” she said. “So easily.”

“Why wouldn’t I be able to?” He picked up a nearby stick and began poking around the rocknut, slowly uncovering its full shape.

“Well, you’re Formless…”

“You’re comparing me to Anathor,” he said. “Most of us are more corporeal than he is. At least, the ones who survived are.” He shook his head. “He was twice broken, poor man. He lost a lot of himself the second time, but he made it in the end. His father wasn’t so lucky. But I’ve heard you’ve had a hand in fixing Anathor, and her. I would thank you for—”

“Wait, wait!” Amelia raised her palms and waved them. “You’re going too fast! Too fast! How do you know Anathor?” If the Formless was annoyed at being interrupted, he didn’t show it.

“We were friends. Still am, I assume. It has been a long time, though.”

“What did you mean that he was twice broken?”

The man’s golden eyes seemed to dim slightly. “He was Formless before he was Formless. Until Elana found him and fixed him. Then the time came when he chose to become like this again. It was not a kind process. A necessary one. But not kind.”

Amelia looked the Formless up and down. In the material world he seemed almost normal. There was only a slight shimmering about his physical self. Like his whole body was a Kanaxai glamour. In the Shimmer, he remained a tightly wrapped bundle of magic ribbons, wound into the shape of a man. “How did you become… like that?” she asked.

“Hmm… Anathor never told you? Well, he was always secretive.” The Formless paused his poking. “Long ago, in a time when this desert was full of life, a cardinal sin was committed. A sin so egregious that it opened a wound, a gaping darkness in the system of the world. We had no choice. She had no choice. Even if the consequences would last nearly a thousand years, it had to happen, and so it happened. Those consequences continue today, interfering and creating new things.”

“Things?” Amelia felt herself frown. “Are you talking about me?”

The Formless hummed, and resumed his poking.

“I’m not a thing!” Amelia protested, placing her hands on her hips. “I’m Amelia, nothing more, nothing less!”

“That you are. You are quite like… Well, it’s no wonder your shard chose you. Looking at you, I can see it’s bonded perfectly.” The Formless stared at her, and Amelia realised he was looking at her in more than one layer of reality. “Eight hundred years before it found you. To think one went for so long without crystallising or an owner. You are from Earth, yes?”

The question was so sudden Amelia froze for a few seconds. She glanced nervously back at the group. “Don’t worry,” the Formless said. “They can’t hear this conversation. A trick of our kind.” He reached out and snapped the bulbous rocknut off its stem. He began to peel it while saying, “I have wandered many a place, but Earth has eluded me thus far.” He paused and then muttered to himself, “If a shard pierced the veil, perhaps an opening has been made…?”

Wanderer? Amelia thought. Wait—

“You’re… the Wanderer!” she exclaimed. “Diego the Wanderer!” She’d read about him in the book Lunaria had lent her. Diego the Wanderer was one of the forty-two Formless, known for, well, wandering about. Of all the Formless, he had been sighted in more places than any other. Even the human continent of Terra Aurea.

“That’s what I’m called now,” Diego said. “I always fashioned myself an adventurer more than a wanderer. I don’t travel aimlessly. I move with purpose. I come here to give you advice and direction. Your Empress sent me.”

She sent him? Amelia thought. Why?

“Why send you?” she asked. From what she could tell of the Empress of Demonkind, she was the kind of person who would do this herself. She must have a lot of trust in this Formless. “She could have come herself.” Amelia was looking forward to meeting the Empress again, especially if Serena was there. She had been slowly building a collection of puns she couldn’t wait to use.

“She is preoccupied with her own… travels,” Diego said. The Formless looked her up and down before saying, “You really look a lot like her. It’s almost eerie. Such power, too. The balance of the world has been upset. The human gods must be quite frustrated.”

“Well, they can deal with it,” Amelia said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“How determined you are. It’s no wonder her shard chose you.”

“Her?” Amelia asked. “You’re talking about a god, right?” Amelia had already deduced that her ability to generate her own divine aether was a result of her being a demigod. Still, seeing the Formless nod was somehow a source of relief.

“Not just any normal one, either. It is such a shame. If we knew what we knew now, we could have found another solution. Back then, the gods didn’t know how to push their power into this realm. Communion was in its infancy. Elana did her best, but it was too little, too late. More power was required. A shattering. A terrible destruction to enable the creation of victory.”

“To… defeat the Enemy?”

“Mmm.”

“So this god… she shattered herself?”

“It was the only way to give our side the power to win.”

“Is this shattering the thing that made you what you are?” She gestured to Diego, who continued to sit and peel the rocknut as if preparing for a picnic. “The event that made the Formless?”

“No,” Diego said. “After what happened… happened. There were problems. A shard does not bond well when forced into such a corporeal reality. For yours to have done so well… you must have died.”

Amelia blinked slowly. “I did,” she admitted. Her shard was the source of so much pain and suffering, yet when she had finally succumbed to it, she had only then been able to bond with it fully and gain her new life.

“We knew so little back then. We were terrified of losing the princess. None of us knew that her death could have been the solution. We did what we could to help her. It required power, and that power required sacrifice. With the help of the old temple, we sacrificed ourselves to ensure Elana’s shard would stabilise. All souls are linked to their realm. To rip that link apart, to bring a soul closer to the mists… it produces a lot of energy.”

“I see.” Amelia soaked in the information, and then asked a question that had been on her mind for a long time. “This god that was shattered. What was their name? I mean, what was her name?”

“You weren’t told?”

“No,” Amelia said, placing her hands on her hips and pouting. “It seems everyone, whether Formless or Empress, are all conspiring to be as frustratingly reluctant to give me the answers to my questions.”

Diego chuckled. “Can you blame them? We do not yet know if you can be fully trusted.”

“I… I can be!” she protested.

“Possibly.” He met her gaze, his eyes two shining suns. “But if you knew all the answers, could you keep them to yourself? Would they not find their way to that Speaker?” He gestured lightly with his finger towards the cave entrance where Serena stood.

“I don’t want to hide anything from her,” Amelia said. It was the truth. She would share everything Diego told her.

“Even if a truth could bring her risk, if not harm?”

“Wouldn’t it be better to share all the same?” she asked. “Serena is strong, and together we can face anything.”

“I see…” Diego continued to peel the rocknut. “You are like her, in some ways. I remember when she was a princess, learning how to fight. She was frustrated, like you. She wanted to know everything; what was wrong with her stance, how she held her spear, how she should tense every muscle… but knowledge needs a ready mind to be absorbed properly. I’m sure that should you be successful in your duty, you’ll be ready to be told more.” 

Amelia understood the argument, but she couldn’t let such an important matter drop.

“Even so,” she said, “I think, no, I have the right to know whose power I’m using. Who—”

“Your power.”

“Excuse me?”

“When a man cooks and eats the flesh of a beast, to train and grow his own muscle, does his strength belong to him or the beast?” The edges of Diego’s lips curled, in a manner that reminded Amelia of Serena. “There is no singular source of power, physical or aetheric. Training, energy, talent, communion...” His shining eyes intensified. “The parts of power come from many places, but they ultimately come together to be yours. You are a demigod in your own right, not a mere host.”

She mulled his words for a few seconds. “It’s hard being powerful,” she said. “Sometimes it feels unearned. I skipped steps I could never have taken otherwise. Others work so hard, for so long, and here I am…” She gave a weak shrug. “Already so far ahead.”

“Unlike whom?” The Formless asked. “The gods themselves?”

Well, I was thinking of Mel and Hinako, Amelia thought, but gods work as well.

“I guess.”

“To assume that those beings whose names you invoke came into their own power without their own form of heritage would be a mistake. They are infants, in a way. They are far older than I am, but I cannot help but see them as children, struggling to stand in their own realms.”

Children? It was a strange way to refer to the gods. It reminded Amelia of herself when she lost her temper. It didn’t seem logical, given that she was a mere demigod, but when she gave Narean and the others a good talking to, she had felt like a parent disciplining unruly children. Where had that feeling come from?

“Did… did my shard change me?” Amelia asked. “Change who I am? My personality?”

“A shard is a powerful thing,” the Formless said as he resumed peeling the plant. “I would imagine that, with enough practice, you could change your physical body as your Empress does. But no, they don’t change the nature of a person, yet the power they provide can. Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely, or so the saying goes. The truth is power, and absolute truth is absolute power. You’ll get the answers you seek, eventually, my good lady.”

Amelia took a slow breath. The Formless was frustratingly evasive, but she wouldn’t let this go. “Even so. I have a right to know which god my shard came from. If you can’t trust me with even that, then I don’t feel like I can trust you.” To emphasise her point, she folded her arms and turned slightly away.

The Formless looked at her for a long time.

“Well,” he eventually said. He looked down at the rocknut, now fully peeled. Placing it to the side, he said quietly, “If it’s only the name…” His golden eyes met her. “I only knew the name she chose when she became connected to this realm. I was never privy to their True Name. But the name we all knew her by… she called herself Esmeralda.”

Esmeralda? Amelia thought. It was a pleasant name, but not one of any of the gods that she knew about. There was an odd familiarity about it, something deep and intrinsic within her. Her shard might be fully part of Amelia, but her power recognised its old master on some level.

“So this… sacrifice,” she said. “This shattering. Is that the cardinal sin you talked about?”

After all, what could be more sinful than shattering a god?

“One of them.”

Amelia blinked. “There were others?”

“One sin to fix another. The one that started it all.”

“Which was?”

“It’s not my place to talk about such… personal matters.”

“You’re back to being frustratingly evasive now.”

The Formless smiled. “I’ve been forthcoming enough. I wouldn’t want to get into trouble.”

Amelia thought about pushing more, but it really did seem like the Formless wouldn’t share. Perhaps the Empress would tell her in person when they next met? Amelia looked at Diego and said, “Esmeralda. It’s a nice name.”

“It is. A name from your world, if I remember.”

“Is that why Esmeralda chose it?”

“Something like that. She had… inspiration.”

“Inspiration?”

“Yes.” Diego’s smile widened. “You are as disarming as she is. Talking to you makes me want to discuss old things. Elana has always been the same. Perhaps it is the eagerness in your soul, the desire to unravel mysteries? I think…” He looked down for a moment before meeting her gaze. “For this mystery, you can solve it yourself. If you want to know why Esmeralda chose that name, find the shard and enter the Fourth Deck. That should serve as motivation for you to complete this duty.”

“The Fourth Deck?” Amelia asked. “Once Esmeralda regains more shards, she’ll tell me? Is that what you mean?”

“Eventually, she might,” Diego said, “but it would take more than one shard for her to regain her sense of self. No, I was talking about something else. Look for a bronze plaque in the Fourth Deck. It should still be there, even after all this time.”

Amelia filed the information away. “Is that what you came here to tell me?”

“Not quite,” the Formless said. He hesitated for a moment before saying. “Other groups move in the desert. At least one is after the shard. I’m trying to frustrate one of them, as best I can. I don’t know what method they’ve discovered, but they also know how to find it.”

“How do we find it?”

“The old temple. The Temple of Pyrinn. It exists out there, buried under the red sand. It is what we used to stabilise Elana, and what broke us into this… half-existence.” Diego raised a hand, twisting it this way and that. For the first time, a longing sadness filled his voice. “The temple will show the shard's location. It will remember the connection we used. You only need to get close, then your shard will guide the rest.”

“Right,” Amelia said. “And how do I get close?”

Diego tapped the wayrune carved into the wall. “Just as there are wayrunes, there are lighthouses. They were built by the Surians, who revered the temple. We destroyed many in the past to frustrate the Enemy’s efforts. One remains. It is near.” The Formless raised a hand and pointed to the east, giving her an exact compass bearing. “Eight leagues that way, deep into the sands. In today's measurements, it would be…” Diego trailed off for a moment, focusing. “Just under forty kilometres. Go there now. The lighthouse will point the way.”

“Now?”

“It only shines during the moonrain.” Diego smiled. “A cruel joke played by the system of the world. It will be hot, but you will manage. You’ll have to.”

Poor Finella, Amelia thought. 

“Is this other group heading there?” she asked.

“I believe so. I am guiding the Restless to them, doing what I can to interfere. You should destroy the lighthouse once it's revealed the way. There is no need to leave it standing.”

Sorry, future archaeologists, Amelia thought grimly.

“The Restless?” she asked. “Is that what you call the djinn?”

“Yes. They are older than us, made Formless in their own ancient battles. If I am a half-existence, then they are something even less. They persevere even now. They are not terribly strong, a shadow of what they once were, but they can still bring harm. Don’t hesitate to attack.”

He and Serena would get along, Amelia thought.

“I understand,” she said. 

The Formless climbed to his feet, dusting sand off his unnaturally formed clothes. Seeing he was getting ready to leave, Amelia quickly said, “One more question, please!” When he raised his eyebrows, she asked, “Why does it have to be me? Why can’t the Empress search herself?” When she’d spoken to her in the Academy, she’d made reference to restrictions. Old laws and accords. It hadn’t been much of an answer.

“She cannot—” Diego paused suddenly and frowned. “No. I cannot answer that question. We have spoken of harmful truths. What you have asked is one of the most dangerous. Just know that she cannot act in the manner that you can. When this all ends, then you will understand why. Until then, do what she cannot.”

Diego sighed. He scratched his nose, a very human, or demon, action, and said, “Only you can hold the shard. Let no one else from your group touch it. It will kill them. Your healing won’t be able to stop the shard from consuming them. Even with your might, you will be… tempted. Power is alluring, and you will want to take it for yourself. You must resist, for the sake of us all. The shard that bonded with you would have been pure, uncorrupted in its travels. The remaining shards are not the same. They will change you into something wrong.”

“I… I will,” Amelia said. “I will,” she said once more with greater confidence. She was powerful enough. She didn’t need another shard.

“Don’t dally,” Diego said, looking to the horizon. “We sacrificed much so that what is happening now could happen. We’re all supporting you, Esmeralda’s inheritor. Go now.” He pointed again in the direction of the lighthouse. “The sooner you leave, the easier it will be. The Restless will chase once they realise what you seek. I will hold them off as much as I can.”

As he spoke, the first rays of the sun began breaking over the mesa. The heat wouldn’t be too bad right away, but in a few hours it would be suffocatingly hot. “It is time for me to go,” Diego said. “Good luck, Amelia. A parting gift for you. From my travels. A noble drink from a distant realm.” He handed her the bottle of mead. It was a clear bottle filled with golden liquid, lacking any detail apart from a strange symbol moulded into the glass—two suns shining rays onto a bat.

“Thank you,” she replied.

Hearing those words, Diego vanished. Not just from the material plane, but also from the Shimmer. He went somewhere deeper. Perhaps to where the translucent fauna came from.

One day, would she be able to follow him?

Amelia swallowed. Without hesitating any more, she turned and began to run towards the cave entrance. She had a lot of information to tell Serena, a lot to share quickly. Even with such determination bubbling away within her, a single thought wormed its way to the forefront of her mind.

Damn it, she thought. I forgot to ask him about the dragons!