Chapter Text
She had approximately half a heartbeat of time to react. The shift in the aether was so familiar to her that it might as well have been a base instinct of hers by now. Argos, too, reacted just as swiftly when gilded lines drew themselves on her chambers’ floor—with a small bark the furniture and the familiar both moved aside.
Reversing a summoning glyph was not particularly hard, but it often had to be done in extremely stressful situations. Aether protection and strength only got one so far after all, and the hardest lesson for a Traveller to learn was when to retreat. Etheirys was beautiful.
And unforgiving.
Venat watched the gilded lines crackle and fizz, turn darker than usual as another kind of aether was woven into the spell. Gold turned sickly green as blue spread throughout it—which turned her surprise into plain worry now. Azem was drawing on their own aether reserves to reverse this glyph.
But before Venat had a chance to try and remember where it was they had last set out for, the glyph completed itself. It shattered with a deafening shriek of aether followed by a Meteion’s loud whimpering and a cry from Hermes that she barely even registered before she automatically went through all possible protocols.
“Azem! Azem, stay with me—Azem!”
The Meteion was very obviously incapable of doing much, considering how the familiar simply continued whimpering with tears rolling down her pale face. There was a gash across said face that did not bleed but must have been unpleasant regardless—she had not been created with life on Etheirys in mind after all but injuries of any sort could upset even bloodless familiars. Hermes meanwhile looked not much better; he had very clearly been supporting Azem’s weight by himself considering the half-transformed state he was in. His staff clattered to the ground as Hermes dismissed that half of a transformation and he very slowly tried to set Azem down.
Azem, meanwhile, simply bled. Bled bloody and ragged, aether leaving their body just as quickly as most notions of life did.
She needed a healer.
Perhaps more than one.
This would certainly invite a chaotic scolding from the parties involved, but she reckoned that this was a case of “misusing” a summoning for a good cause and therefore would not see her censured. She whispered out an apology to Azem as she simply reached into their bloodied pockets to fish out the crystal for the summoning spell.
For better or for worse, her living quarters would now be host to a strange crowd at several points of the day. Knowing that Altima had been in a meeting Venat had instead called for a younger but no less incredible healer who immediately got to work once the shock settled. Rather than even pretend to be shocked, her second summon instead launched into the predicted tirade, all while ordering his familiar about with the flawless effort of someone who had spent if not wasted most of their life studying said familiar. And in a sense Lahabrea had done just so. Regardless, the bird closed the grisly gashes and deep lacerations enough for the healer to do her job easier, and then immediately he started applying his own brand of magicks in those strange, creative ways that had made him the candidate for his position in the first place. She had not even noticed the fact that Hermes himself was not merely drenched in Azem’s blood but was bleeding himself. Hermes cringed and let out a pained wheeze when Lahabrea’s familiar shone brightly and knit whatever minor wounds were still bleeding closed.
He was… gentler with the familiar—Lahabrea’s department was the major facility that immediately started studying Dynamis and seeing as Hermes was unavailable to speak let alone fix his poor familiar’s face Lahabrea instead did the job.
Once everything was settled and Lahabrea and the healer had been dismissed accordingly once the healer confirmed that she was going to be calling Altima as soon as she was available and Lahabrea’s tirade found an end, Venat instead knew that she would have to deal with her least favourite task. When it came to incidents where the Convocation was involved with something not quite savoury there was one duty that someone, preferably of her station would have to do: the sleuthing.
Azem would be out of commission until further notice. The familiar was still in a downright state of panic; whether those were her own feelings or what her creator felt deep down were part of what Venat would have to find out. She very deliberately called for the Meteion—so unlike the one that accompanied Hythlodaeus just about anywhere these days, her blue still pristinely deep unlike the seafoam-y tint that “Little Starbird” had grown into her plumage recently. The “travelling sister” as the collective called her came over without a complaint. But the moment she was close enough she all but threw her arms around Venat and let out a wretched sob accompanied by choked “thank you”s. Uncertain what to do, she simply put a hand on Meteion’s head and gently ruffled her hair.
Her unfortunate duty however remained, and Venat cleared her throat. She needed to address Hermes.
“I mean not to pull you from your fretting, but perhaps your fretting is better spent sitting somewhere and getting some fluid back into your own system while Azem recuperates.”
He flinched as if she had slapped him, and muttered something that may have been an agreement or a polite decline—but whatever it was got stuck in his throat when he tore his eyes from Azem and turned to look at her and spotted Meteion. He simply nodded, perhaps in defeat, and Venat decided that she was going to deal with this just as she had dealt with countless children on the road: she gently pried Meteion’s hands off her and instead picked her up to let her throw her arms around Venat’s neck so that she could cry into the former traveller’s shoulder.
Rather than letting them both stew in upset silence, Venat simply started regaling them with what they had missed since the last time they had been in Amaurot. Which creations had been approved for release from Elpis recently, how the new Chief Overseer worked extremely closely with several bureaus beyond simply creators, ranging from ethics to security to see that Hermes’ key complaints were addressed somewhat. How now that Mitron had politely asked people to not quite literally flood the oceans with more sharks the people instead moved on to a variety of birds, perhaps in an attempt to copy the Meteion concept but ensure that they were made for life on Etheirys instead. Lahabrea had stomped that in the ground in a speech that would surely make the history books of Etheirys about how making aviary familiars in such abundance would simply lead to mistakes that could see more than simply the familiars in danger. Too many birds could affect the winds, and without the winds several species of plants would surely perish and from there on a chain reaction that would leave Etheirys a ghastly home perfect for his phantoms and naught else would without a doubt begin.
When Hermes continued staring at the cup until the tea went cold and occasionally glanced over his shoulder to look at Azem, Venat knew she would have to address him directly.
At the very least Meteion had calmed down enough that she was merely hiccuping now—meaning that if Hermes refused to yield answers on what had injured them so, she could unfortunately always turn to Meteion.
She was content to give him another chance to “confess”, so to speak. She instead turned to idle chitchat and rumours, gossip even. Amaurot was fraught with such things. Talk from the Words of Mitron how a student of his had gotten lost in Elpis trying to collect something irrelevant to ichthyology for him. The unending mumbles of someone or something breaking the rules set by Pashtarot, most recently none other than Halmarut judging from the fact that Pashtarot himself had stomped into Akademia Anyder in a right mood and left covered in what must have been mucus from one of the larger carnivorous plants. A mention or three of Fandaniel and how he had finally found a way to trace the outermost layers of aether that enshrouded Etheirys thanks to the help of several little familiars eager to help.
Hermes flinched when she mentioned Ktisis Hyperboreia and instead looked over at Azem, who remained perfectly out of commission.
Truth be told she really truly did not wish to get an answer out of that poor Meteion. But knowing Lahabrea he was going to apply pressure to Azem, and if they refused to crack and tell him what had seen them nearly dead then he would doubtlessly go to the next best sources: Hermes, and if he too refused to answer, Meteion. And that was not even remotely mentioning Altima’s department and Pashtarot for the sake of safety as well as Emet-Selch and Hythlodaeus for the sake of verbally beating up their friend for endangering their travelling party like this.
The troubled silence was long and heavy, until finally the very nervous-looking Hermes let out a faint, weary sigh.
“Khalkotauroi.”
Venat waited for him to continue.
“Familiars who were told to protect a place no matter what. But their creators have since returned to the star, meaning that no one can get close to the home that holds vital information for a nearby settlement regarding the elements in flux. It is not a very well charted area. Azem and I decided it would be best to see if aught could be done to convince the familiars to let us take the proper documents and nothing else.”
She could see where this was going. Hermes treasured life to a degree he would sooner see himself endangered than harm any living being—a noble heart, but one that invited nothing but an abyss of despair. Part of the conversation that was necessary in Amaurot specifically but Elpis especially was the treatment of other living beings that were not harmful but still less than perfect. As Fandaniel had reported it, it seemed there was finally dialogue to be had between the rest of Elpis and the researchers at the Cthonic Horns in regards to the less than perfect but clearly soul-bearing beings and allowing them to live out the rest of their mortal lives with the Cthonic Horns if they were given a larger island to do so.
Clearly Hermes and Azem had attempted to deal with the familiars as if they were their creators and were instead met with what happened to familiars that were given a duty who remained after their creators returned to the star.
“One seemed open to the suggestion.”
Meteion seemed to shrink down on her chair. “… was not. Got tricked. Noticed too late. Azem did not.”
Hermes closed his eyes. “They took an attack meant to drive us out with extreme force all by themself. I tried to get us out as quickly as possible, but it turns out the other of the Khalkotauroi had been imbued with aether-dampening skills not unlike the emergency systems of Ktisis Hyperboreia. My half-transformed state, for which I apologise most sincerely, was what I managed to scrape together aether-wise to get a measure of protection from the worst of the onslaught while they… while they reversed their summoning glyph to send us home.”
That would explain why Hermes and Meteion were injured but not severely so. The dampened aether also gave context for why Azem had drawn out their own aether to a degree high enough that it turned their glyph blue. According to young Hythlodaeus that was the very colour of their soul after all—blue, endlessly vast and blue, like the skies they looked to ever since they were a child.
“… I nearly got us killed.”
“… That is quite a strong word to use, and not quite what I believe is appropriate,” Venat immediately interjected as she laced her hands together. “Regardless of your presence, this is the path that Azem would have taken—quite many frenzied familiars can be reasoned with just fine, seeing as they are much like their creators in the end. It is the path I would have taken as well, for there is ever something to be learned from the familiars left behind. It just so happened that this time Azem’s and your kindness was repaid in blood; something that could have happened to anyone at any time. It is not a misjudgement on your part, or Azem’s part, or a fault of the familiars. It is a fault of their duty—to protect, no matter the cost. Without your quick thinking I doubt that Azem could have gotten all three of you out of there just in time.”
Long, heavy silence.
“To always have your guard up in a situation you believe kindness to be the cure for would have been foolish,” Venat then continued, softer this time. “You and Meteion let your guards down and believed this one familiar who seemed receptive. Some could and would call this a flaw. I believe that were they awake, Azem would agree with me that it is a virtue to be kind even in the face of danger.”
He let his head hang, all tension suddenly gone as he stared into his long cold cup of tea.
“It is a harsh lesson every Azem must learn on their own. To know when to retreat. When no amount of love for Etheirys and her people, for every single creation, can change the tides. Whether you like that thought or not, you have essentially become their partner on the road out of necessity. And unfortunately that means you, too, now share the Traveller’s path. But answer me this, Hermes: would you hurt those familiars if you could, in revenge?”
“… No. Heavens, no.” He looked up and shot a terrified look first at Meteion and then at Venat. “They are still beings of Etheirys. Etheirys should decide when their time comes.”
Foolish, she wanted to say. A line had to be drawn when people were hurt, but there were ways to ensure that they could no longer hurt other people without returning them to the star. But just as she opened her mouth to say something of that degree, another voice cut in.
“A foolish notion. Kind, yes, but much too foolish.”
Venat simply let out a sigh. She did not even turn around to face the intruder—who was not even an intruder in the strictest sense, given that it was part of his seat’s duties to ensure level ground no matter the cost.
“Would you be so kind as to knock next time to announce you are done eavesdropping, esteemed Elidibus?”
She finally turned her head enough to behold the newcomer.
Indeed, as pristinely serene as ever, Elidibus simply shot her a sheepish smile. It was no secret that he quite enjoyed hearing from Azem and that he hoped to have as much energy as they had for his duties for the rest of his time on Etheirys. What surprised her however were the two faces that accompanied him.
Both were similarly scowling—and would surely deny any sort of similarity when one pointed it out like that. But Hermes recognised every single one of the newcomers from the way the colour drained from his face.
“Mind,” Elidibus began, putting a hand on his cheek and tilting his head, his sheepish smile vanishing and giving way to neutrality, “that our intention was not eavesdropping, yet what you addressed was what Lahabrea had in mind regardless.”
Lahabrea beside Elidibus harrumphed. For all his faults as a person, there was a reason why many a person considered him the greatest asset to the Convocation since its inception—he was sharp and calculated in ways many other more eccentric Lahabreas before him were not.
“Which brings me to the next point. Azem had been sending reports back to Amaurot to me specifically, and requests from that region had just so happened to have arrived… not here, but in a different place altogether.”
Elidibus turned to the white masked person around his age beside him.
“Eos of Abyssos hails from that place, and rather than wait much longer she made a request to send a Warder to the region to assist them. The Warder who was selected for that duty is Erichthonios of Asphodelos, apparently by unanimous vote no less due to the necessity to shackle rather than inter. Normally protocol would see familiars out of control like this, especially to the point of injuring one of our finest, undone by a sorceror or phantomologist—and the danger posed would make it the duty of either the Third or the Twelfth Seats, if not both simultaneously. Now, the Twelfth Seat specifically requested the sole handling of the situation in the matter mere hours ago, and imagine our surprise when he was summoned by a misused call.”
It had been a long time since Hermes had had to spend a turn of the seasons down below in Pandæmonium. That he still remembered what it was about, judging from the way all colour had drained from his face now and given way to a slightly squeamish expression, only told her that he had an excellent memory. An excellent memory, and more than a small measure of disdain for the concept of Pandæmonium despite its purpose being the acquisition of knowledge and a means to see dangerous creations safely somewhere where they could do no harm.
“Of course the situation being what it is, my initial idea of having Azem and their companions accompany Erichthonios have been ruined by this chain of events,” Lahabrea said, voice as cold as ever.
“There is much we can learn from familiars such as these, and Eos of Abyssos has already volunteered to be treating these familiars with as much care and reverence as their creators did,” Erichthonios added quickly. “The matter of protection can be solved differently, but we would seek the—”
A long, worn-out groan made all heads turn towards the makeshift sickbed in Venat’s living quarters.
“Old man… can you go… instead of me? Hermes, Meteion… can you… lead them there?” Azem’s voice was thin and worn, but hearing them made a lot of the tension between Hermes and Meteion immediately disperse in relief.
Before Lahabrea could turn her living quarters into a wasteland at the thinly veiled and shockingly lucid insult from Azem, Venat cleared her throat. “I am certain that Hermes and Meteion will—after appropriate amounts of rest. A sunrise or three as necessary, and I doubt not that they will lead you as Azem has requested. Might I take this opportunity to request that you get out of my living quarters in the meanwhile, so that Altima can find her new patient in proper resting position rather than strangled by the Twelfth Seat?”
“Yes, of course,” was all Elidibus said before shooing Lahabrea and the Warder out of her quarters and following them out, interrupted by an insulted hiss from Lahabrea and a hurried “thank you, take your time, Hermes” from Erichthonios.
Venat sat back down, her own cup of tea now long gone cold.
She would have to make certain that Emet-Selch and Hythlodaeus were allowed inside the healer’s ward that Azem would doubtlessly be carted off to, if only to ensure that the both of them could tell their friend that nearly dying was not a proper excuse to be calling Lahabrea ‘old man’.
“If you would wish to refuse—”
“We won’t,” Meteion said much to her surprise. “It’s a… reasonable req-request. Hermes… Hermes does need… a day. Or two. Of rest. For rest. Then we can. Then we will.”