Chapter 129: Interlude ? (Sanctum Epilogue)
The Black Beast watched from the Celestial darkness on the happenings below. He was neither the designer of the elaborate machine, nor an actor within it. He was simply its keeper. As the many centuries rolled on, one after another, he performed his duties stalwartly and without complaint. But even he was not without desire.
Which was why when Archeon had interfered, electing to bring the boy prince back into the cycle, the Black Beast had nearly sighed. He did not, of course. Such an outpouring of emotion after a near millennium of stoicism would be the equivalent of a mortal running around in a circle, screaming. Still. It was a close thing.
The boy prince was simply unsuited for the role. What he was before might have sufficed, but now the prince was only a child. In mind and body.
What were Archeons intentions?
The question was ever present as The Black Beast watched the boy, with curiosity at first. His first few deaths had come as a surprise, as an explanation of his reintroduction into the cycle had not come until sometime after them.
Still, the Black Beast took his duties seriously. When the prince had nearly cracked among the infernals the first time, the Black Beast made sure he knew what his purpose was. When he more recently began to abuse his power, repeatedly killing himself to save a favored group of children, the Black Beast took corrective action to ensure his pointless repetitions did not serve as an unnecessary drain on the cycle.
Yet, his warning went unheeded. The prince seemed to take it as a challenge, refusing to partake of his power at all, even as everything degenerated around him.
That was fine. The black beast would simply wait until his inevitable death. Study the timeline. And eventually reinsert the prince at a later point that was still marred by the stubbornness of his actions. A harsh lesson, but one taught effectively.
Morthus was the only wrinkle. As with all the progenitors, The Black Beast could never observe Morthus directly. It was a built-in restriction, one that irked the beast in no small fashion.
Naturally, the Prince spent a great deal of time with Morthus this cycle, irritating the beast further. Their first meeting, from what the beast could tell, was largely uneventful. A simple passing of information that had occurred many times before. But their second meeting was a much bigger question mark. Afterwards, the boy began to hint at his demise to his companions, an action that made little sense to the beast.
Obviously, the prince could not die in any manner apart from temporarily. He knew that as well as the beast himself did. So, his actions came across as both out of character and strangely cruel.
In the ancient cycles, the prince was capable of monstrous cruelty. But his actions were intentional. Always serving a greater purpose. This, in comparison, seemed to serve no purpose at all.
Morthus and the prince had their third meeting in the Sanctums heart, an interaction that was shielded from the beast once more.
The beast watched what followed in detached fascination as the prince created a dramatic scene, rallying strangers and friends behind him alike in a climactic moment that might have been stirring if the beast was capable of emotion. The beast had observed many such scenes in his time. It had all the hallmarks of a martyrdom. An emotional appeal, a humbled hero who sacrifices himself for something greater, and a tragic end.
And the Lynchpin had made a grave miscalculation. Perhaps she was off-balance from the close call at the ambush, or was finally consumed with rage to the point she was too sloppy to recognize the maneuver for what it was. She recruited the girl as a way to twist the killing knife. But the fact that it was an infernal who struck the prince down was the masterstroke that made it all the more poignant. The Infernals as a people were proud. They would carry a great guilt from their betrayal. Even if it was only one of them that swung the blade.
The beast let time carry on, curious, inspecting the individuals in the crowd. Most were ordinary. But one by one, the spark of fate within them glowed brighter. And among the crowd, the light of his three companions glowed most brightly of all.
And if there were a sensible human leader for them to rally behind, that might have mattered. But there wasnt. And even if there was, it still wouldnt matter. Because the prince had died. His modified cycle would resume
Where?
The beast considered. There were aspects of this scenario that were advantageous. The lynchpins anonymity was gone. With the early revelation of her demonic backing, many previously quick to dismiss the idea of an arch-mage would consider her a serious threat. But there was no way the beast could see to keep this intact, no matter how many iterations he gave the prince.
No. The ideal starting point was the one the prince feared most. It would be before the lynchpin had been derailed. His companions would die, it was almost certain. And the lesson would be learned.
I am beyond you. The beast growled.
Maybe. Cairn admitted. Then his face changed, his eyes colder than a blizzard night. But you wont always be.
And remembering once more, the prince of the ancient cycles, the beast felt a sliver of something that might have been fear.
I have answered your question. Now answer mine. You are both alive, and not alive. Explain.
Cairn rubbed his neck. I had no idea what to do for a while. I kept coming back to it, over and over. There was no way Thoth was leaving me alive after what I did. Shed burn down the entire sanctum first. Either she died, or I did. Neither of those were acceptable solutions. So, I needed to deceive her somehow. Then it came to me. Remember the first iteration at the Enclave?
I do not forget.
Someone used my likeness to slaughter Mayas family. They wanted it to look like I turned on them, that I was somehow allied with the Asmodials. It was different from typical illusory magic because it was a hard illusion, capable of direct physical harm. Over the many many loops, I eventually tracked it down.
The Black Beast began to understand. The Illusory Scepter.
A legendary artifact. Since the demons hoard them, I figured that was the last Id ever see of it. But after Ozras massive fuckup, I convinced him to let me borrow it back.
Morthus was present when this took place?
Yes. Cairn looked crestfallen at the mention of the fallen elder. It was his idea to have the demons transplant my soul into the illusion. Thoth is clever. We wanted to avoid taking any chances.
It was a satisfactory method, though remarkably callous towards his allies. One in particular above the rest.
Clever, to place a spy among the lynchpins chosen.
Cairn winced. I wanted to tell them, her most of all. But Thoth has seen too much genuine suffering to not be able to tell it apart from something counterfeit. And when I make my return, Bell will have plausible deniability. She needed to believe she was killing me. As monstrous as that might seem.
A silence followed. The Black Beast studied the prince, and for the first time, considered that Archeons plan might be more than an errant fancy. There was something different about him. Something the beast could not quite pin down.
You have achieved much.
Morthus, Bacchus. Cairn listed them quietly, Both dead. Not to mention all the pain Ive put my friends through. The cost was too high.
You have the infernals. You are positioned perfectly to acquire their support. Would you still go back?
Cairn closed his eyes, floating endlessly in the void.
No. I have to move forward.
