Adley's Seeking

How long had it been since the ship was attacked? You did not know, it felt like days but it had to be hours...For a moment your mind is confused, what ship? What attack you look around and realize what you see is not real, it is a different reality, perhaps a reality that could have been, or just a complete fabrication from your Avatar...but slowly that knowledge faded and you only knew you where a Master of the Art, and you knew that the lives and very souls of the men and women you had with you depended entirely on you, only you could help them, only you could save them...and yet you where so tired, never in your life had you been so exhausted...only fear and the desire to see the mages you where transporting safely back to Earth kept you going.

It was over fifteen year ago that the disaster had happened, fifteen years since the Umbra became impossible to cross without the help of Umbral ships and the Tradition's great realms, Horizon...Cerberus...Doissetep all of them had been cut off from Earth. Still it was allot of speculation as to what the hell had happened, no one knew for sure, one thing was clear at least something had thorn through far to many unincarnated Avatars, and the leftover splinters of this devastation now hurled around the Umbra in a never ending storm. Your mentor had been lost that day fifteen years ago, so had many Masters, he had been on the front lines in the Umbra when the storm hit, perhaps he had been one of the lucky ones and gotten himself to some realms or another in time...or perhaps...It was because of him you had been on that Umbra ship, an exploration vessel that braved the dangerous waters of the Umbra looking for survivors, most of the passengers had lost someone, teachers, students, Cabal members, and they all hoped beyond hope that if they just reached faraway enough realms then they could perhaps find them again...unharmed...very few had their dreams fulfilled.

The Dreadnought had attacked a little after breakfast, the massive warship's energy bolts hitting the smaller exploration vessel sounded like thunder. You do not know why the Technocrats had declined to finish the job, The Royal Rose had weapons but nothing that could stand up to the Dreadnought, perhaps the union men had just decided to be cruel and leave the Traditionalists to the storm, or perhaps something else had called them away, but there you where in a ship with failing shields and holes in the hull, a ship that was no longer safe from the dreadful force some had come to call the Avatar Storm. Panic begun to spread among the mages trapped on The Royal Rose, but they had one last hope, you. You where a Master of Ars Spiritus, and by your words you could hold the storm at bay, if only in a small circle around you, and you had the knowledge and ability to travel the byways of the Deep Umbra...so your dangerous task begun, you took the crew and passengers of The Royal Rose in small groups and protected them as you made your way back to Earth, then went back for another group. It was grueling work, both shielding yourself and your charges from the storm and walking the Umbral byways strained your ability to the limit...and you had to do it again and again...never in your life had you been so tired, you body hurt, your Avatar hurt from just how long you had used magick...and always in the back of your mind where the knowledge of what would happen if you failed, you would be destroyed, those with you would be destroyed and those still waiting back at the ship would be destroyed when finally The Royal Rose lost the last of her shields. Every step was agony, but now you where with the last group, twenty three mages had been saved, twenty three Avatars...only five more...and your own...but you can feel your magick failing, it slips from your fingers like sand. The most complicated rote you are maintaining is the one that wards your five charges from the swirling pieces of broken Avatars that come at you again and again, desperate for new hosts and unaware of what damage they would do, one of the women you where transporting, Sonja was crying from fear, while the four others where silent and pale...Dan the Sons of Ether Engineer, Ethel his apprentice who was just a teenager, Julian the tall, proud Tytalus and round little Mona the ship's healer...their fates where in your hands and you where not sure you could save them...not all of them, you could not keep shielding them all from the storm or your rote will fail completely, but narrowing the rote means to let some of them...the storm rages around you as you feel your strength vane...

Sweeping the broken river of souls for survivors was like sweeping a dirt road. The wind would come and turn it to a faded mark on reality, mix everything up again as if it had almost never been searched at all. Or taking a pan to a river looking for the gold left behind. Once part of the mountains, strong and seemingly unbreachable, they now flowed in their own chaos. Or turning the light on in the darkest room. All you could see around was the madness of it, the will of the smashed avatars reaching out from every direction. That little shard of an Umbrood in his avatar had been nothing like this. These were avatars. They wanted to be whole again. They were drawn to them as he ferried them along the quickest, surest route he could...But so many things had been destroyed, so many avatars. The path was not clear to him, or easy to find. More often than not he was left to make his own.

It was draining.

His own pater was either dead, shattered like the rest or holed up somewhere in some realm, unreachable for the moment. He hoped for the latter, that at least he and his avatar would be spared but he would never be sure unless he found him. And so he continued to dip the pan into the river and occasionally he would find someone who could be helped.

But then this.

He was so tired, every time he brought his hands up he could feel them shaking, everything was shaking in restless vibration and his voice was beginning to falter and crack. As he came to the last five, he knew. He couldn't make it with all of them. The worst choice. He couldn't put himself in front of them either, or lose the rest. His House, you heard much of heroes sacrificing themselves as one would imagine. You saw the prints of the House Founder everywhere. That seemed easier, more heroic, it was considered a good death, to go out to save everyone. You heard less about all the people that had come before, that they'd put in harms way. No one liked to talk about that. It was just done, war.

So tired. (How many -could- he take? Was there anything not used up, that he had not tried?
(Could the distances be shorter than he was making them? It wasn't about distance so much as magnitude, power, will...the magnitude of the storm was exhausting...it made it nearly impossible to navigate between the ship and safety)

Just five more! But for all his ability, he could not part the avatar storm's rage eternally. He could not put the broken pieces back together.

(He could not do it - how many could he actually take with him? Three?)

Three?

      ......... Not this again.

Not this choice.
Again.

(And do what with them exactly? Sending someone to die was one thing, turning them loose into the churning malestrom another...could he at least make something of it other than simple destruction?)

He could not take the five of them. He felt his heart sinking. (three was better than losing six)
(twenty six was better than twenty) Not all avatars were of the same power. It was not a matter of simple addition.

"Sodalis," he began, (I am sorry) looking at his Tradition-mate, straining to make his voice heard over the rage around them that tore at them even as he looked at them. "I cannot clear a way ahead for everyone," he said in Latin. "The way before is still clear, for now. For a moment...The ship...she still has her shields." (you know what this means). If someone had asked why him, why Julius, Adley would only have been able to think that another of that or his own House would understand. Why had he chosen the weeping girl, the healer and the apprentice could be argued. But he needed the engineer and his sodalis to take the ship. Ram the Dreadnought, explode it and the both of them. Maybe then there would be a chance they just died and their avatars would escape, slim to none, but something better than booting them into the nether.

// D: Kobayashi Maru

Julian sigh but he nodded, he understood, his House where warriors he understood that sometimes there had to be sacrifice, and that right now you could not safe them all, and a few Avatars saves where better than none.
"I will do as you say Sodales."
He said, there where fear in his voice...off course there where, the storm terrified any mage, but the path was cleared back to the ship, though it would not stay that way for long, there was a chance that he and Dan could get back...back to the temporary safety of the ship before the storm found them.
"If it is possible we will go out in a blaze of glory Sodales, if not then we will give our souls a chance."
He said proudly before he put his hand on Dan's shoulder and switched to English.
"You and I need to go back Dan, Adley is to tired, he can not save us all, two of us must be sacrificed for the rest..."
He said and the engineer paled and tear of fear welled up in his eyes but he looked at Ethel, his young apprentice and he nodded, if he had to be sacrificed for her to be saved he would do it.
"There is a chance we can still find the Dreadnought, if so we will ram it, avenge ourselves...and if not, well then my friend we will raid the Captain's stock of the finest port and turn on the self destruct, we will be gone long before the shards get through the shield."
Julian said and sigh.
"Let us go out in a way that will make our new incarnations proud..."
Dan sigh and nodded.
"Ramming the Union bastards I am all for Juls...and I do not mind the fine port either but do you think that if we die now that we will have future incarnations...?"
He asked fearfully. Julian sigh.
"Yes...I think we will my friend...remember the shards want hosts, they want to incarnate, they have no interest in two Avatars heading for the Well of Souls. It is like someone who want a house and are deranged enough to kill for it, they might break into a home and kill the family that live there, but they are unlikely to attack people on the street."
Dan nodded.
"I guess we will find out, and I hope you are right."
He said as he prepared to go with Julian, giving you and the rest a look.
"Good luck and Mr Roth Hicks...please make sure my apprentice got to my sister...she will be able to complete her training..."
He said. It was then Ethel understood what was going on an the teenager panicked.
"No...no...I will not leave him...we can not leave him behind..."
She shouted and grabbed her mentor's hand, seaming like she never wanted to let go.
"Please we can not leave him behind....please...I can not loose another to the damned storm...please..."
She wept hysterically looking at you pleadingly.

"I will do as you say Sodales...If it is possible we will go out in a blaze of glory Sodales, if not then we will give our souls a chance."

Like a dream, it was easy to fall into it, as if it was real though there were flickers here and there where he was/n't aware that this was/n't real.

"I will remember. Take the engineer. Go back to the Rose and either ram the Juggernaught or turn her into the biggest fireball you can."

"Good luck and Mr Roth Hicks...please make sure my apprentice got to my sister...she will be able to complete her training..."

"I will do that, but you must go now, while there is the chance," he said, looking the man in the eye. (I am sorry) But he knew that the man would rather this than his apprentice die, or worse. No parens ever would want that. It was why he was alive, he figured. While he was still not sure his mentor was gone, or worse. (he could have lived in a pocket...if not, he would want me to help others lost here...)

"No...no...I will not leave him...we can not leave him behind..." She shouted and grabbed her mentor's hand, seaming like she never wanted to let go. "Please we can not leave him behind....please...I can not loose another to the damned storm...please..." She wept hysterically looking at you pleadingly.

'I'm sorry Ethyl, but we must go now. Tell him you love him, take what he's bestowed upon you and live." (I'm sorry I cannot save them but I can save you). He reached out to take her other hand. (the exhaustion was all too real) He could feel his hand reaching for hers and shaking like a leaf)

"I will remember. Take the engineer. Go back to the Rose and either ram the Juggernaught or turn her into the biggest fireball you can."

The Tytalus nodded, for a moment there where fear in his eyes then he grinned.
"It will be a big fireball either way Sodales and there are far worse fates that to go out with a bang..."
He said, he was a warrior, part of the Rose's security force, he knew that this trip might lead to his death, he accepted it, that was worse for Dan, he was not a warrior he had never made his peace with the potential of death like Julian had, still there where a determination in the engineer's eyes, if for nothing else than for his student to have a chance.

"I will do that, but you must go now, while there is the chance," he said, looking the man in the eye. (I am sorry) But he knew that the man would rather this than his apprentice die, or worse. No parens ever would want that. It was why he was alive, he figured. While he was still not sure his mentor was gone, or worse. (he could have lived in a pocket...if not, he would want me to help others lost here...)

Dan just nodded, the man was terrified, but there where no more time, soon the storm would rage behind them and then their fate would not be Julian's blazing glory, it would be to have their very souls ripped to shreds by the confused, lost shards of the storm. The Etherite begun to walk when he felt his apprentice hand on his.
"My dear student...I must go..."
He said and it seamed like if seeing the girl's tears was more painful than the thought of his own death.

'I'm sorry Ethyl, but we must go now. Tell him you love him, take what he's bestowed upon you and live." (I'm sorry I cannot save them but I can save you). He reached out to take her other hand. (the exhaustion was all too real) He could feel his hand reaching for hers and shaking like a leaf)

"I hate this storm...I hate it!"
Ethel screamed in a moment of frustration then she slowly let go of her mentor's hand...she understood he could not be saved but she would carry that with her for the rest of her life, her letting go of his hand.
"I...love you..."
She whispered to her teacher...as she turned to Adley, sobbing.
"I will go with you..."
She muttered.

"You let go of me as well..."
There where whispers in the storm, whispers from the shards themselves. and then you see it, a piece of face like a shattered part of a porcelain doll, white as snow with a black eye, part of a Onryō...Raymond's creepy, aggressive soul. Some say every destroyed Avatar had joined the winds, seventy eight Traditionalists, who knew how many Nephandi and widderslainte and that was just the ones the Traditions had destroyed, and their remains swirled around her now. Far...far away, deep in your mind you know your brother is fine...safe at least for now, but in your current waking mind you remember seeing them Gilgul him, remember your mentor trying to keep life in the husk that remained, feeding him, tending him...but he had just wasted away and died.
"If you had not brought him in..."
The piece of face said then it was gone in the swirling mass, one more splinter that would rip you to shreds if your concentration wavered, even for a moment.

"I hate this storm...I hate it!" Ethel screamed in a moment of frustration...

(I hate it too. What happened? It was years ago, it happened...it...it took his own mentor. He hated it.)

She whispered to her teacher...as she turned to Adley, sobbing. "I will go with you..." She muttered.

He took her hand and drew her along with the other girl and the healer, keeping them as close as he could to his side. "Come, don't look back." He began the way again...don't look back, but don't forget either (they weren't about to turn into pillars of salt but the pull of the past was strong anyway and he had to keep going before he failed them)

"You let go of me as well..." There where whispers in the storm, whispers from the shards themselves. and then you see it, a piece of face like a shattered part of a porcelain doll, white as snow with a black eye, part of a Onryō...Raymond's creepy, aggressive soul..."If you had not brought him in...The piece of face said then it was gone in the swirling mass, one more splinter that would rip you to shreds if your concentration wavered, even for a moment

He held onto Ethyl's hand a bit harder...

He heard her, the voice of his lost brother's avatar. Saw her there, a shred of her, though he had never seen her before he knew it was her. The lady by the glass mirror. Weeping. If he had not brought him in...(Boston would have been destroyed)...(no, he'd never let go of Kyle, they'd taken him, taken him while he was fighting them...taken and destroyed him and her and he'd died after -it-...)

He held onto Ethyl's hand a bit harder.

He had to press on.
He still had these three...
...right now he had three...
Concentrate on getting the three and himself to safety.
He had to protect them...
His circle of protection could hold three and himself.  

(The shards had faces, faces that he knew, loved and had not saved, that he'd failed...[s]that he'd let go[/s]...the storm was a cumulative disaster full of them)

But he had three and his own.
Right now he had three and his own that still had a chance.
He concentrated on that and the way through the storm.

(I hate it too. What happened? It was years ago, it happened...it...it took his own mentor. He hated it.)

Ethel walked, tears flowing down her cheeks.
"Why did the storm come? Why is it taking all we love."
She sobbed.

He took her hand and drew her along with the other girl and the healer, keeping them as close as he could to his side. "Come, don't look back." He began the way again...don't look back, but don't forget either (they weren't about to turn into pillars of salt but the pull of the past was strong anyway and he had to keep going before he failed them)

The three women where terrified as you continued walking through the Umbra, constantly having to fend of the storm, constantly fighting, it felt for a moment like the rotes to clear the path before you where all you had ever done. Ethel and Sonja cried while the healer was so very, very quiet...

He heard her, the voice of his lost brother's avatar. Saw her there, a shred of her, though he had never seen her before he knew it was her. The lady by the glass mirror. Weeping. If he had not brought him in...(Boston would have been destroyed)...(no, he'd never let go of Kyle, they'd taken him, taken him while he was fighting them...taken and destroyed him and her and he'd died after -it-...)

You remember your brother's screams of terror when the Security Council's men came for him after the verdict, he had clung to you, his hands desperately holding onto your arm...your coat...your hand...anything while your mentor tried to hold them off, it was over he knew that, but at least he might be able to calm Kyle down to the point where the boy might have some dignity or at least not be hurt for resiting, in the end though the teenager had been ripped out of your arms as he hold onto you...and them...came the screams...the terrible...terrible screams.

You feel the Etherite apprentice's hand on yours, clinging to it, scared, it felt like his hand, the fingers a bit to long, as she had not finished growing and some parts of her body had grown more than others...and then she cried out as one of the splinters got past your defenses and graced her, it was not a serious wound but it was enough to terrify her.
"They are going to get us..."
She cried...
"They are going to get us..."

(The shards had faces, faces that he knew, loved and had not saved, that he'd failed...[s]that he'd let go[/s]...the storm was a cumulative disaster full of them)

There was a moment of pain, intense agony as another shard got through your weakening defenses and planted itself in your soul, but despite the pain you knew that if you faltered...it was over...if you lost concentration...it was over. The shard was a bloody feather, a piece of an Avatar you had not seen, but you knew who it was, Amanda's bloodied angle, a beautiful creature with blood dripping from it's wings, and that feather bore into you while you heard it cry out for it's hosts.
"Alone...Mercedes...dead...Amanda...I can not find her...I can not find her...you will do, you will be my new Amanda..."
The whispers intensified as you tried to press on, as that bloodied feather slowly moved through your soul.

Ethel walked, tears flowing down her cheeks. "Why did the storm come? Why is it taking all we love." She sobbed.

He didn't know why the storm came. Only that it was here and they were in it. Every step. (He'd been lost in a snowstorm once when he was a kid, the worst one he'd ever seen. He thought he was going to die but he didn't. He found the road by the light that was on the snowplough and realised he wasn't that far after all. But every step now was like that).

You feel the Etherite apprentice's hand on yours, clinging to it, scared, it felt like his hand, the fingers a bit to long, as she had not finished growing and some parts of her body had grown more than others...and then she cried out as one of the splinters got past your defenses and graced her, it was not a serious wound but it was enough to terrify her. "They are going to get us..." She cried... "They are going to get us..."

"No, they won't...they won't get you," he said, stubbornly. He held onto her (too long fingers, like Kyle) hand and took another step. They had to be close now. He just had to find the right guideposts, he just needed to heed them.

The shard was a bloody feather, a piece of an Avatar you had not seen, but you knew who it was, Amanda's bloodied angle, a beautiful creature with blood dripping from it's wings, and that feather bore into you while you heard it cry out for it's hosts. "Alone...Mercedes...dead...Amanda...I can not find her...I can not find her...you will do, you will be my new Amanda..." The whispers intensified as you tried to press on, as that bloodied feather slowly moved through your soul.

He wished he had never felt such a pain like it before. But he had but he did not want to scream, did not want to show them that it hurt, how bad he was hurt. This was worse than before, before it had not been Amanda's avatar. He'd sent her to Horizon. Instead of Molly. "I will not be anyone's Amanda...I am not Amanda..." He wanted to pluck it out, pull it free and...but if he did he would lose them all. Concentrate...

He would lose the three and himself. (I am not Amanda or Mercedes, I am not for you)
He had to keep going (it hurt).
(he was so //tired// and it hurt).
He had to be strong. Almost there...they had to be close...just like when he was a kid, and got lost in the field.
He could not lose them or let them get hurt...

"No, they won't...they won't get you," he said, stubbornly. He held onto her (too long fingers, like Kyle) hand and took another step. They had to be close now. He just had to find the right guideposts, he just needed to heed them.

"Are you sure? There are...are so many of them..."
Ethel said as she held onto you as if you where the only thread to life she had, and in many ways you where, it was doubtful this girl had the knowledge to survive in the Umbra, much lest in the Avatar Storm, and the young Etherite did not even have her tools with her, she was helpless, and if you faltered she would...be worse than dead."

He wished he had never felt such a pain like it before. But he had but he did not want to scream, did not want to show them that it hurt, how bad he was hurt. This was worse than before, before it had not been Amanda's avatar. He'd sent her to Horizon. Instead of Molly. "I will not be anyone's Amanda...I am not Amanda..." He wanted to pluck it out, pull it free and...but if he did he would lose them all. Concentrate...

"You took my Amanda from me..."
The shard whispered, there was nothing left of it, just anger as it dug deeper. The Euthanatos had been proud until the last of it, and that more than anything else had gotten those that saw what happened talking, not only was it unsettling to see even a Archmage's apprentice be arrested and sentenced but when she walked into that chamber, naked at the day she was born and bound, but still with her head held high like a queen, it gave many pause, and to then see that pride and dignity stripped away until she was just this screaming thing on the floor of that dreadful chamber, smeared with her own waste where she had lost control of her body and blood from the lip she had bit through...that made many stand up and demand change, demand the laws be tidied up, that perhaps a better way had to be found...yes what had happened to the Blade of Senex had brought good with it but that good had come at a terrible cost.

He would lose the three and himself. (I am not Amanda or Mercedes, I am not for you)

"Give me back my host! Give me back Amanda!"
The shard screamed in your head, it had been noble once, as noble as it's mage, but now Amanda was dead after her dignity was stripped from her and this once beautiful being was just a shattered mass of anger and despair...like a great ruler ravage by dementia.

He had to be strong. Almost there...they had to be close...just like when he was a kid, and got lost in the field.
He could not lose them or let them get hurt...

"How many have you failed..."
The voice came from the side of you, a small green splinter, like crystal...this one you knew. Beatrice had been close to death, her body could not take the constant pain any longer, something had to be done and while you and Colin had been against it, the only choice had been to find a Nephandus...one with a Avatar of similar Essence. You had offered to be a donor for material to heal the little Verbena...so had Tane but so much had to be taken it would leave you sick for months...and perhaps cost you the ability to learn several Spheres, no decision had been made to find a Nephandus, and you had, a beautiful man about your own age, a Malfean, and one of those it was hard to hate as all he wanted was Entropic Ascension for himself, but Cita could not make Emphemera complex enough, it had to come from somewhere and you had held the man down as the Virtual Adept worked, heard his pleas, his screams, seen his tears. Later that evening you sat with Beatrice while Cita operated on her, the operation was painful but when done the Verbena finally slept peacefully for the first time in weeks, she was still hurting but it was reduced to a tolerable level...and after Colin had taken over to watch over Beatrice for you as she slept you went to check on the prisoner..."

No that had not happened...something in you say, but it could happen...it could happen and there would be pain, and suffering and screams and you would be the cause again....

You had checked on the prisoner and found him curled up on the floor, he had broken his own fingers in the vain hope that would distract the pain from his soul...if just for a few moments...you where about to get a healer for him when you heard his desperate plea.
"Stay...if only for a few minutes...I do not want to be alone...please..."
The man's voice had been so weak but the look in his eyes had been so pleading, he did not care you had captured him, had hurt him...he just needed comfort...any kind of comfort...

No it had not happened yet...but if it came to it...hurting someone like that or let your Cabalmate die...would you?

"How far can you go in the name of a greater good...before what you do become an atrocity"
The green shard whispered before it vanished into the mass again.

"Are you sure? There are...are so many of them..." Ethel said as she held onto you as if you where the only thread to life she had

These three. And himself. Ethyl...Mona, Sonja. He knew their names. He held her hand and walked another step. "I am sure."

"You took my Amanda from me..." The shard whispered, there was nothing left of it, just anger as it dug deeper.

(it hurts) "I cannot give her back." (it had worked and it had not brought him any peace inside but there was change).

"Give me back my host! Give me back Amanda!" The shard screamed in your head, it had been noble once, as noble as it's mage, but now Amanda was dead after her dignity was stripped from her and this once beautiful being was just a shattered mass of anger and despair...like a great ruler ravage by dementia.

"I cannot. She is gone." (so there would be fewer...like this, but then the Storm came). (He once was a child in a snowstorm, lost with the wind on his face and he could not see anything and he was afraid. They told you in the Scouts to stay put so that someone could find you but those people were wrong. You had to keep going).

"How many have you failed..." The voice came from the side of you, a small green splinter

Too many - but fewer than if he had not tried at all...

No that had not happened...something in you say, but it could happen...it could happen and there would be pain, and suffering and screams and you would be the cause again....

"Stay...if only for a few minutes...I do not want to be alone...please..." The man's voice had been so weak but the look in his eyes had been so pleading, he did not care you had captured him, had hurt him...he just needed comfort...any kind of comfort...

He did not want to stay. But he could not let him be alone yet he did not know how to comfort him. Not after what had happened...he was not like Colin, who instinctively knew just what to say to make someone feel better. (Concentrate on getting to where you need to go).

No it had not happened yet...but if it came to it...hurting someone like that or let your Cabalmate die...would you?

"How far can you go in the name of a greater good...before what you do become an atrocity" The green shard whispered before it vanished into the mass again

He took another step.
He held onto his three charges, and the pain.
He thought about Adjan.

...if it came to it...hurting someone like that or let your Cabalmate die...would you? "How far can you go in the name of a greater good...before what you do become an atrocity" The green shard whispered before it vanished into the mass again

(when it stops hurting, when it becomes easy...when I don't care about them anymore, when I forget...when I want to...when I want to do it because I can and its easy, when I'm blind and don't know it...when I forget their Names and their sacrifices and why I did it before...)

He thought about the Malfean man begging for him to stay with him and Beatrice, his sister...his friend.

He took another step.
He had three, and himself.
And the pain.
And all those that had come before.

These three. And himself. Ethyl...Mona, Sonja. He knew their names. He held her hand and walked another step. "I am sure."

"I trust you...my mentor trusted you."
Ethel said as she firmly grabbed your hand tight enough for you to feel the fine bones in her hand and long fingers pressing against your hand, it was a trust born of desperation, perhaps the same way Kyle had trusted you...you had prevented his escape with that dreadful serum, injected it into him despite his fear of needles born of the traumas of his childhood, and still he trusted you, up until the last when he clung to you as they dragged him away...then he was destroyed and there was only a husk left, and you know that if you lose focus the same will happen to the young Etherite, and you would see it happen, her smaller Avatar would shatter before your own...and then she herself would die...unless you kept focus...

(it hurts) "I cannot give her back." (it had worked and it had not brought him any peace inside but there was change).

"Bring her back...bring her back...I want Amanda...I want incarnation!"
The once higher self, a Holy Guardian Angle who now screamed at you like a petulant child as the splinter drove into you deeper, trying to get to your soul, to the place your Avatar lived, a place it was not welcome, it's presence a constantly agonizing violation of your most inner self.

"I cannot. She is gone." (so there would be fewer...like this, but then the Storm came). (He once was a child in a snowstorm, lost with the wind on his face and he could not see anything and he was afraid. They told you in the Scouts to stay put so that someone could find you but those people were wrong. You had to keep going).

You remember your mentor's lessons, as soon as you could transfer and direct heat he begun a grueling lesson. It was true Jeffry Morgan never hurt you in anger or punishment, but training was another matter, you where trained to be a war mage, you had to be able to use magick in the heat of battle. You remember he took you to one of the ritual rooms and gave you a iron rod, the instruction was clear, keep transferring heat out of the rod so you could keep holding it as he heated it with his magick...if you lost concentration, your hands would burn, if you tossed the rod aside you would fail. There where many times in the beginning where training sessions ended with your mentor healing your sore, blistered hands, and when you could focus even though the stress of the rising heat and keep the metal cool he called in your sister for help to try everything in her power to distract you, she would yell at you, tickle you, pour ice cold water over your head, summon tiny little gafflings to pester you, hoping to break your concentration...and it worked...for a while, though each time you stood there with that steel rod in your hands you managed to hold it a little longer, working your magick a little longer, ignoring the distractions a little longer. This walk felt like those grueling lessons, except the prince for failing now would not be a bit of pain and having your mentor heal what he could and smear balm on what he could not, the price would be four Avatars.
"Bring her back! Bring her back! Bring her back!"
The shard kept digging deeper, hurting you, enraging your soul who felt it's presence an insult and a danger, and the shard kept up it's demands, screaming in your head for a host long dead, not able to comprehend what had happened to it, or her, only know it had to incarnate...nothing else...

Beatrice would not do that, she would not allow it...had he done that?

You remember the young Verbena refusing any such treatment, that the Nephandus would be Gilgulled anyway was not good enough argument, she would not benefit from torture...not of her own free will...but Amadeus was her legal guardian in Mage society, though initiated part of her sentence was that she was still under her mentor's rule and he took the choice out of her hands...you remember that...her Avatar would not survive loosing it's host in the condition it was in...and she would not survive the pain she was suffering, if it kept on, you would loose them both.

There is a dissonance in your mind for a moment between the memory of the mindscape and reality around you...what would you do if faced with that choice...help find a doomed soul to cut up to save Beatrice against her will, or watch her die, knowing she took her broken angel with her to the grave...yes what would you do...for a moment two sets of memories invade your mind and the Mindscape's reality pondered that question.

He did not want to stay. But he could not let him be alone yet he did not know how to comfort him. Not after what had happened...he was not like Colin, who instinctively knew just what to say to make someone feel better. (Concentrate on getting to where you need to go).

One part of your memory show you sitting by the prisoner's bed with him curled up in pain...whimpering, screaming...trying to break more of his fingers to distract the pain...if just for a moment, and yet he found comfort in your presence, pain filled, green eyes locking on yours. It was a heart wrenching thing to witness for you knew the comfort he found in you, his captor...the main who had held him down while his Avatar was sliced up for spare parts, was wrong...it was sick, hunt a human being enough and they will connect with anyone, seek out whoever is closest and cling to them, anything for the comfort another human offers, even if that person is the one who hurt you in the first place. It was this sick, desperate need for comfort the Malfean was gripped in, and yet denying him would hurt him even more as his broken hand closed on yours, ignoring the pain just to feel another person there, just for one hint of kindness...even from the man who had harmed him so.

He took another step.
He held onto his three charges, and the pain.
He thought about Adjan.

You move forwards and you see things that remind you of Earth...of Boston...those trees over there had the same color as the walls in your favorite coffee shop, the road was the color of the paint on the walls in your room at Steelhaven, little signs that told you that you where getting closer and had passed from the Deep to the Middle Umbra, though reality was still thin here...so thin..Adjan was safe, you knew that, he was a warrior against the increasingly powerful Union, he was colder not, he had seen so many things none should have to see, but he was safe...he was alive...

(when it stops hurting, when it becomes easy...when I don't care about them anymore, when I forget...when I want to...when I want to do it because I can and its easy, when I'm blind and don't know it...when I forget their Names and their sacrifices and why I did it before...)

"Raymond...Amanda...Patrick Dale...June...The D'Angelo Twins...the green eyes man used for spare parts...how many are to many...so many souls...are your path worth it? If you carry on and get the twins up on charges you know what the punishment will be...even if they are horrible people? Is it worth it?"
A voice said...more doubts, more accusations, more pain, mental and spiritual...more exhaustion all threatening to break you concentration...break your will...you feel the Etherite girl's hand in yours, but how tempting would it not be to have it all be over, one dreadful flash of pain, and then...death as none of you had the ability to make the Umbra livable anymore, and then oblivion, no more pain...no more failing anyone, no more tiredness...just nothing...and yet that hand held onto yours as you led her through the Umbra, that hand that felt like your brother's hand who sought security in you...the girl trusting you to keep her safe...and yet the voices of the storm cried to you...the pain you where feeling was only growing, it was in all parts of your being now, and yet it was nowhere, a constant, terrifying agony...it would be over if you but gave up...it would finally be over...if you let go of the girl's hand and stopped fighting...

He thought about the Malfean man begging for him to stay with him and Beatrice, his sister...his friend.

"And old Verbena would stand by your grave...grieving her friend, and the man she loved but could never have...yes one time in the future that would be, a old Verbena with graying hair draping over her frail shoulders like a fine lace veil, but not now...in the future..."
Something in you called, a small light...a hope but the there where the shard screaming for it's host, and the Malfean man crying in your arms, clinging to his enemy for dare life, and there was exhaustion and pain...if only you laid down it would be over...if only...

He took another step.
He had three, and himself.
And the pain.
And all those that had come before.

You walk...but each step is so heavy, each time you force the storm away it is more difficult and now more and more painful as you already straining Avatar was hurt from the shard.
"You saved me...you risked yourself and you save me..."
There was a voice in the storm...no not in the storm, not a part of it...beside it and you see a light...the light of a powerful, glorious Umbrood Lord...it had just been a shard once itself but now it stood there hale and magnificent, and yet it could not help you...no matter how much it wanted to, perhaps it had come to watch your doom and stand in silent guard over your remains, or perhaps it was here to walk by your side...or perhaps it was just one more voice that tried to break your concentration...make you give in...would it not be better...to stop this pain...to have it be over? To have it end? The voices swirled, swelling as pain and exhaustion filled you...threatening to overcome what little reserves you had left.

"I trust you...my mentor trusted you." Ethel said

Dan and Jules...off to blow up the ship. Or die or worse trying. Because he told them to, because he was not strong enough to take them all. Dan who wanted Ethyl safe, for her to go to his sister...they trusted him. He needed to keep going.

"Bring her back...bring her back...I want Amanda...I want incarnation!" The once higher self, a Holy Guardian Angle who now screamed at you like a petulant child as the splinter drove into you deeper, trying to get to your soul

(it hurt so much, that he couldn't bring her back...that he couldn't help it become whole again...it would not see the Well of Souls in this condition...it hurt so much, digging itself into him but he would not let it harm his own avatar...he was not Amanda, could not bring her back)

This walk felt like those grueling lessons, except the prince for failing now would not be a bit of pain and having your mentor heal what he could and smear balm on what he could not, the price would be four Avatars. "Bring her back! Bring her back! Bring her back!"

He had to conserve strength, keep going. It was going to scream at him for blood no matter how he felt, what he said...it was despairing and angry and hurt. And so was he but he became quieter, only the Words for the rote, weaving his magick, his Voice pushing the storm of destroyed avatars aside.

Take a step.
And another and when the rushing of the souls filled back in, cast the rote.
Take another step.
Ethyl (noble), Sonja (wisdom), Mona (Greek, one, or in Arabic unreachable wishes).
Three steps.
Adley (judicious).
One more. (they had to be close now).

There is a dissonance in your mind for a moment between the memory of the mindscape and reality around you...what would you do if faced with that choice...help find a doomed soul to cut up to save Beatrice against her will, or watch her die, knowing she took her broken angel with her to the grave...yes what would you do...for a moment two sets of memories invade your mind and the Mindscape's reality pondered that question.

It felt wrong. She did not deserve to die. But causing another to suffer felt wrong...if they were going to gilgul him anyway, it would not stop it entirely from being wrong. He'd told them that putting another stitch in her might bring her his memories, like it had with him...he would rather give her his own...something they offered willingly than take it from someone unwilling. It felt wrong.

Four of them.
Wisdom, Judiciousness, One-ness, Nobility. (the emperor and the one judged by god had left to ram the ship)...

It was this sick, desperate need for comfort the Malfean was gripped in, and yet denying him would hurt him even more as his broken hand closed on yours, ignoring the pain just to feel another person there, just for one hint of kindness...even from the man who had harmed him so.

When people touched him, he wanted to withdraw, make an immediate distance from them and their pain, or them seeing his pain. Weakness. He was not supposed to show any weakness. But when they hurt, and reached out to him, he felt...felt...compassion. For them. Often, even this Malfean. Others were harder, he was not a perfect man. But he tried to follow his pater's teachings. When they touched him he did not know what he was supposed to do or how to accept it, how to return it. But he tried. Sometimes he had to. Sometimes he wanted to know how to transfer the feelings inside of him in touch the way he could with Words. Words were always easier for him. (Susanna showed him how to talk with his hands, how to make the gestures the easy way, the fast way...older than what you'd learned).

Concentrate.
He took another step. (Adley)
Then three more. (Mona, Ethyl, Sonja)

You remember the young Verbena refusing any such treatment, that the Nephandus would be Gilgulled anyway was not good enough argument, she would not benefit from torture

He would not know until the choice was there in front of him. But it would feel wrong to hurt him, he knew. The middle way was not always compassionate, the lightning path was not a straight line downward. He would have to see...and then he would grieve, either way.

You move forwards and you see things that remind you of Earth...of Boston...those trees over there had the same color as the walls in your favorite coffee shop, the road was the color of the paint on the walls in your room at Steelhaven, little signs that told you that you where getting closer and had passed from the Deep to the Middle Umbra, though reality was still thin here...

All of his people at home. He saw the coffee shop and made the turn. All the people who were his home, as much as any building was. His mentor, his friends. All their Names. One step for each one he knew: Colin, Bee, Adjan, Narim, Cita, Nico, Fran, Freddy...each of his cabal mates, living or dead. One step for every Name on the door of the tass vault. One for all of the Deacons.

"Raymond...Amanda...Patrick Dale...June...The D'Angelo Twins...the green eyes man used for spare parts...how many are to many...so many souls...are your path worth it? If you carry on and get the twins up on charges you know what the punishment will be...even if they are horrible people? Is it worth it?"

(any were too many, but if he did not try, there would have been more...the D'Angelos are terrible people, the corruption is terrifying and has to be stopped...if he didn't try, there would be more in this storm...)
(it hurt...so much...)
(he was tired)

He took a step for them too, even if he hated them. He hadn't hated June, or Patrick. Or Amanda the Blade, who was also Mercedes. Or Raymond who was also Kyle, his brother. They had not deserved what had happened.

the pain you where feeling was only growing, it was in all parts of your being now, and yet it was nowhere, a constant, terrifying agony...it would be over if you but gave up...it would finally be over...if you let go of the girl's hand and stopped fighting...

No.
He had to keep going.
He had four: Adley, Ethyl, Mona, Sonja.
He was so tired...Adley, Ethyl, Mona, Sonja, like a heartbeat, like a drumbeat.

"And old Verbena would stand by your grave...grieving her friend, and the man she loved but could never have...yes one time in the future that would be, a old Verbena with graying hair draping over her frail shoulders like a fine lace veil, but not now...in the future..."
Something in you called, a small light...a hope but the there where the shard screaming for it's host, and the Malfean man crying in your arms, clinging to his enemy for dare life, and there was exhaustion and pain...if only you laid down it would be over...if only...

He had to make it worth it.
He took the light, it was a small thing but he held onto it.
Make it shine.

"You saved me...you risked yourself and you save me..."There was a voice in the storm...no not in the storm, not a part of it...beside it and you see a light...the light of a powerful, glorious Umbrood Lord...it had just been a shard once itself but now it stood there hale and magnificent, and yet it could not help you..."

"Friend. Walk with me..."

Another step.
Then three more.
And one for all of his friends, his mentor. All the people he loved.
And his enemies.
All the people he'd lost. And all the people he'd asked to make sacrifices.
And the people that weren't either, the confusing ones that were a mix of both.
And one for all the Names of the past that his avatar knew: Adley, Dylan. The man who knew Carmon.
One for the House Tremere, when they were still a House and another for his amicus.

"...would it not be better...to stop this pain...to have it be over? To have it end? The voices swirled, swelling as pain and exhaustion filled you...threatening to overcome what little reserves you had left.

(it hurt. Each step hurt, carved out of pain that no one could see)

He took another step.

"...would it not be better...to stop this pain...to have it be over? To have it end? The voices swirled, swelling as pain and exhaustion filled you...threatening to overcome what little reserves you had left.

He couldn't give up.
Not even if he wanted to, they depended on him...they trusted him: Sonja, Mona, Ethyl. Dan and Jules.
(it hurt)
He took another step.

Dan and Jules...off to blow up the ship. Or die or worse trying. Because he told them to, because he was not strong enough to take them all. Dan who wanted Ethyl safe, for her to go to his sister...they trusted him. He needed to keep going.

The Umbra was cold...noisy...terrible around you, every step hurt, but through it all was that small hand in yours, that small hand with to long fingers, fingers rough from working with machines, but still so fragile, like a wounded bird that only your warmth could keep alive, but what if there where no more warmth to give...and still you continued...there you saw the front display window of the university library...to the left then, following landmarks, though left and right meant little, there where no directions only the wind...and the occasional landmarks that told you that you where getting closer...

(it hurt so much, that he couldn't bring her back...that he couldn't help it become whole again...it would not see the Well of Souls in this condition...it hurt so much, digging itself into him but he would not let it harm his own avatar...he was not Amanda, could not bring her back)

"Bring her back...bring her back...bring her back..."
The broken shard screamed...longed and raged, desperate in it's need, and not not understanding the pain and damage it caused, it only knew two things, you where to blame for it's current state and that it wanted incarnation, that was all, the once elevated being now had only base needs. Perhaps that is what Mr Lenoe meant when he spoke of his Beast, a voice of such need, such anguish, wanting...needing but never understanding.

It felt wrong. She did not deserve to die. But causing another to suffer felt wrong...if they were going to gilgul him anyway, it would not stop it entirely from being wrong. He'd told them that putting another stitch in her might bring her his memories, like it had with him...he would rather give her his own...something they offered willingly than take it from someone unwilling. It felt wrong.

The two sets of memories fought inside of you, they where another burden that tore at your mind, threatened to make your concentration slip, threatened to rip you asunder mind, body and soul...but then there was a softer voice there, a melodical, calming voice...not your Avatar, not the storm...other...
"The Artificer are skilled, but there are limits to her understanding, stitching together a broken soul can heal but not restore...but yours can for you carry the Grimoire..."
Then the voice was gone and there was nothing but the storm and the shrieks of that shard digging through your Avatar, and the sensation of Ethel's small hand in yours.

When people touched him, he wanted to withdraw, make an immediate distance from them and their pain, or them seeing his pain. Weakness. He was not supposed to show any weakness. But when they hurt, and reached out to him, he felt...felt...compassion. For them. Often, even this Malfean. Others were harder, he was not a perfect man. But he tried to follow his pater's teachings. When they touched him he did not know what he was supposed to do or how to accept it, how to return it. But he tried. Sometimes he had to. Sometimes he wanted to know how to transfer the feelings inside of him in touch the way he could with Words. Words were always easier for him. (Susanna showed him how to talk with his hands, how to make the gestures the easy way, the fast way...older than what you'd learned).

The Malfean was weeping in your lap, he was thin, frail looking, perhaps due to Jhor, or repeated attacks of Paradox and he shuddered in your arms, he did not speak he just cried...he had been hurt...tortured...used for spare parts...but how could that be right...how could it be right...slowly the memory faded and the desperately pleading man. Beatrice would not want that pain to be caused for her, would not want the fear, the anguish in that man's eyes...she would not want that...and yet it could happen...it could happen.

Concentrate.
He took another step. (Adley)
Then three more. (Mona, Ethyl, Sonja)

You felt soft pressure as you crossed the player between the formlessness of the Middle Umbra and the half formed reality of the Near, it felt like breaking the surface of water on a pond, cold...resistance and then there where buildings around you...Boston, but only on a half manifested plane, only concepts, ideals and thought forms existed here, the buildings bizarre, the sky a bustle of colors...but you where closer...you where closer...though the storm did not stop raging.

He would not know until the choice was there in front of him. But it would feel wrong to hurt him, he knew. The middle way was not always compassionate, the lightning path was not a straight line downward. He would have to see...and then he would grieve, either way.

"Yes...there will be pain either way...there will be grief...end it...give up...one brief flash of pain...then no more grief...no more pain...only nothingness...peace..."
The whispers of the storm grew to a crescendo like thunder.
"Surrender...you hurt...you are tired...you can not go on...give in...give us hosts..."
The voices whispered like a chorus of the mad.
"Give in and you will never grieve again."

All of his people at home. He saw the coffee shop and made the turn. All the people who were his home, as much as any building was. His mentor, his friends. All their Names. One step for each one he knew: Colin, Bee, Adjan, Narim, Cita, Nico, Fran, Freddy...each of his cabal mates, living or dead. One step for every Name on the door of the tass vault. One for all of the Deacons.

Items lay on the strangely winding path like breadcrumbs in a fairytale, George's inkwell, Jeffry's rings, Beatrice's silver razor necklace, Colin's manacles, Rosa's violin, Freddy's phone, for every name you saw an item a bit further down the road and as you walked the buildings took more shape, resembled reality more, became less concept and more reality, Narim's keyboard, Mara's earrings, Adjan's dice, Nico's vials...leading you one, while the insane whispers of the storm begged you to give up and the pain in your Avatar grew in tune with your exhaustion. Kyle's gaming console, Antonio's notebook...step by step you saw the items that reminded you of your friends. Little Jane's doll tea china, Hildegaard's glasses...step...step...step...

He took a step for them too, even if he hated them. He hadn't hated June, or Patrick. Or Amanda the Blade, who was also Mercedes. Or Raymond who was also Kyle, his brother. They had not deserved what had happened.

Vittoria's judge's scales...Dominic's ring...step...the twins as young mages, just newly initiated kids crying at their mentor's grave...June's string...and yet so many had been hurt by your actions...and so many had been saved...did that balance the scale...did it?

No.
He had to keep going.
He had four: Adley, Ethyl, Mona, Sonja.
He was so tired...Adley, Ethyl, Mona, Sonja, like a heartbeat, like a drumbeat.

"Stay with us...give us hosts...give up your pain...hate...despair...surrender!"
The stor cried in your mind...the bloodied feather cried in your soul.
"Give up...let me have you...be my new Amanda...the pain will end...it will be over."
Every step was agony, your reserves was gone and you walked on will alone...there was nothing but will now...determination...everything else was gone, everyone but a thin hand in yours, a hand with to long fingers."

He had to make it worth it.
He took the light, it was a small thing but he held onto it.
Make it shine.

"If I can not love you as a wife...I will love you as a brother."
Beatrice's voice, her link to your Avatar through the stitches long healed into hers warmed you, it was a tiny light, just a dim glow...but it was there...warming your tired bones.
"Save yourself...save them..."
Just one small sliver of hope among despair.

"Friend. Walk with me..."

"Father...I am here..."
The Umbrood said...yes perhaps you was, your Avatar had been womb to it's rebirth, and the light of the Guardian spirit followed you, a golden thread to guide by, though the storm still cried for your destruction and hammered against your ever weakening protections ready to tear you and the others apart.

Another step.
Then three more.
And one for all of his friends, his mentor. All the people he loved.
And his enemies.
All the people he'd lost. And all the people he'd asked to make sacrifices.
And the people that weren't either, the confusing ones that were a mix of both.
And one for all the Names of the past that his avatar knew: Adley, Dylan. The man who knew Carmon.
One for the House Tremere, when they were still a House and another for his amicus.

"You let Carmon ride out alone...one more who's splinters are here with us...that you sent to us...and yet you will offer no reparation...will not be host to any, do we not deserve...incarnation."
Did the storm talk or was it your mind that transformed their desire for incarnation and their anger into words...words that felt like they wanted to rip you apart, like they wanted to strip the flesh of your bones and your soul from it's place in your deep, inner existence.
"Stay with us..."

(it hurt. Each step hurt, carved out of pain that no one could see)

He took another step.

The pain grew...until there where little else...only determination...an pain...where you made of it? Perhaps you where like the Umbrood that walked by your side...a being of a singular purpose, of singular reaction, a pain spirit? How could you not be a Umbrood made of pain when that was what your world was filled by.
"You are man..."
The Umbrood beside you reminded you.

He couldn't give up.
Not even if he wanted to, they depended on him...they trusted him: Sonja, Mona, Ethyl. Dan and Jules.
(it hurt)
He took another step.

There you saw it...through the haze of pain you saw it...the Gauntlet...but what had once been a smooth barrier between physical reality and spirit was not a spiked trap...thousands and thousands of splinters, former Avatars where there, things of the Avatar Storm that had embedded itself in the Gauntlet...your goal was right there...a way to get to safety, to get the others to safety...and yet how could you reach it...if you pushed through the splinters in the veil would shred your soul...

...like a wounded bird that only your warmth could keep alive, but what if there where no more warmth to give...and still you continued...there you saw the front display window of the university library...to the left then, following landmarks, though left and right meant little, there where no directions only the wind...and the occasional landmarks that told you that you where getting closer...

Closer. Books in the university window, he remembered Antonio's apprentice, grabbing books/helping Cita take Bee. Talking to his brother, in the cell. (To the left, following the way. He knew the way. Just a little further.)

"Bring her back...bring her back...bring her back..." The broken shard screamed

A miasma of pain, some he'd had a part in producing. Some he'd been able to spare, their voices were not out here. (few people hear them or know why they are broken...some by the formless storm, some...by hands...fewer told their stories. Just a few of them - Mercedes, they told her story. They would give members of his House accolades for chopping off the head of a Tremere, a Nephandus, a traitor but they would not sit with the green-eyed man as he clung to them...they would not hear about June, who loved Hannah.

"The Artificer are skilled, but there are limits to her understanding, stitching together a broken soul can heal but not restore...but yours can for you carry the Grimoire..."

(the light in the darkness)

Then the voice was gone and there was nothing but the storm and the shrieks of that shard digging through your Avatar, and the sensation of Ethel's small hand in yours.

(it hurt. It had hurt when he'd learned the lesson and then a strange, dangerous thing had happened. It had stopped hurting. He couldn't feel any pain, though a moment before, he'd thought the iron bar was melting his flesh to the bone, he could smell it burning, red hot and it hurt...then it had stopped and he'd had to look to see if he was still holding onto it. He thought he still was. And then...he'd had to remember how it had felt to feel pain while he held on anyway)

He held onto her hand, and walked forward towards the way.(protect them)

The Malfean was weeping in your lap, he was thin, frail looking, perhaps due to Jhor, or repeated attacks of Paradox and he shuddered in your arms, he did not speak he just cried...he had been hurt...tortured...used for spare parts...but how could that be right...how could it be right...slowly the memory faded and the desperately pleading man.

He did not know if he could stop the pain. (Beatrice's avatar had reached out to touch him and he'd been afraid he was going to be extinguished...made dark, corrupted. But it loved her. He loved her too.) It was not right. He did not understand him, or why he wanted to Descend. He did not think that was right, either to deny someone else light, to erase it from the universe but he had not harmed others.

He took another step. (Adley)
Then three more. (Mona, Ethyl, Sonja)

Boston, but only on a half manifested plane, only concepts, ideals and thought forms existed here, the buildings bizarre, the sky a bustle of colors...but you where closer...you where closer...though the storm did not stop raging.

Closer.
Another step.

"Surrender...you hurt...you are tired...you can not go on...give in...give us hosts..." The voices whispered like a chorus of the mad. "Give in and you will never grieve again."

"No." No. He could not give up. He would not give up. (protector of the turning world) He could not break his Word. He had to protect them. Another step.

...so many had been hurt by your actions...and so many had been saved...did that balance the scale...did it?

Some things could not easily be quantified, but something was better than nothing. And if he could...he could read the full Word in the Grimoire, to restore them...it would be worth it. To turn everything, change...

(he was so tired and it hurt, he had not yet become numb to the pain and it was everywhere, eternally...Dylan had been tortured and Claire had sacrificed herself for him...torture felt eternal, like it would never end. But it meant you could still feel).

"If I can not love you as a wife...I will love you as a brother." Beatrice's voice, her link to your Avatar through the stitches long healed into hers warmed you, it was a tiny light, just a dim glow...but it was there...warming your tired bones. "Save yourself...save them..."
Just one small sliver of hope among despair.

"I love you, adelfi...I will save them. (he held onto them)
Another shuddering step. Everything felt...

"Father...I am here..." The Umbrood said...yes perhaps you was, your Avatar had been womb to it's rebirth, and the light of the Guardian spirit followed you, a golden thread to guide by, though the storm still cried for your destruction and hammered against your ever weakening protections ready to tear you and the others apart

"Thank you," he said. That had hurt too. But now the Umbrood was here. He had saved that one.
And now he had four more and his son made of spirit, who had touched his avatar and been reborn.

"You let Carmon ride out alone...one more who's splinters are here with us...that you sent to us...and yet you will offer no reparation...will not be host to any, do we not deserve...incarnation." Did the storm talk or was it your mind that transformed their desire for incarnation and their anger into words...words that felt like they wanted to rip you apart, like they wanted to strip the flesh of your bones and your soul from it's place in your deep, inner existence. "Stay with us..."

"I cannot stay with you. I will not. You deserve yes, but I cannot." He held onto Ethyl's hand. He had Sonja and Mona, and Ethyl.

How could you not be a Umbrood made of pain when that was what your world was filled by.
"You are man..."
The Umbrood beside you reminded you.

He had once thought spirits were beautiful in their single natures, and there was truth in their beauty. But it could also be ugliness, and despair and hate...singularly nothingness. Men could choose. They could be all of those things at once.
"I am a man," he agreed, thankful for being reminded. It would be dangerous to forget that. That was madness.

There you saw it...through the haze of pain you saw it...the Gauntlet...but what had once been a smooth barrier between physical reality and spirit was not a spiked trap...thousands and thousands of splinters, former Avatars where there, things of the Avatar Storm that had embedded itself in the Gauntlet...your goal was right there...a way to get to safety, to get the others to safety...and yet how could you reach it...if you pushed through the splinters in the veil would shred your soul...

He was panting in exertion, feeling a whiteness all around. But his son was there to remind him they were different, but had been together once. And he was mortal, one in a long chain that stretched back to the beginning, above the Well of Souls in a place that mortals would go mad to see. The crown and glory...
...and down here was the Earth. The manifestation. He was already there. In all the people that he knew were there. He just needed to make a bridge. He'd done it before, seen it done before.

"Thank you, my son." And he reached out with his voice and knocked on the great wall of the gauntlet with it, so he could return them where they belonged. Mona, Sonja, Ethyl. Adley. On the other side. All his friends and loved ones. And the ones he hated. The ones he didn't know, the ones who slept, not knowing what was inside them. The ones that walked while dead. The ones that tried to eat the weak, without knowing eating weakness made them weak. The ones he'd laid on the path of destruction. But there in the chantry were his friends, his loved ones. Somehow they forgave him for being weak. And scared. And not good enough, yet. When he made mistakes and hurt them. They believed in him, just like Mona, Sonja, Dan, Jules, Ethyl. They had been on the other side, they would be again. And the splinters in between would not need to move...they were only going back where they belonged. Malkuth. They were not meant for the paths out here, the one his son walked. Not yet. He had to move them. Move them there where they belonged. And he reached out with his voice and knocked on the great wall of the gauntlet with it, so he could return them: Mona, Sonja, Ethyl. Adley. (four)

Closer. Books in the university window, he remembered Antonio's apprentice, grabbing books/helping Cita take Bee. Talking to his brother, in the cell. (To the left, following the way. He knew the way. Just a little further.)

When you think about Antonio's apprentice you see the myriad of books on language he boy was usually seen carrying, the boy who strive for excellence so he would be accepted to his House's Domus Magna, even if that Chantry seldom admitted men...little Andrew making doe eyes at one of the Verbena at Riverside...the docks...the but stop one would use to get from the docks to Steelhaven...more and more things to navigate showed up, but while you where making progress you could not outrun the storm...

If that was true...then it could be worth it, couldn't it? If he could bring back the light..

The voice that was neither your Avatar nor the storm was gone, but it's feeling lingered for a moment...soft, proud like a father looking down at a newborn son...a light...then gone leaving only the storm and a slight hope behind.

He held onto her hand, and walked forward towards the way.(protect them)

Ethel's fingers clutched your hand...or was it Kyle...it was hard to say, to long fingers...urging you on while the voices cried for you to give up, to resign yourself to oblivion...to a sweet...darkness that would forever take away the pain...but you manage to continue, to lead your three charges though the Umbra even if each step is torture...your every fiber cry out for relief...but you continue...ever forward...

He did not know if he could stop the pain. (Beatrice's avatar had reached out to touch him and he'd been afraid he was going to be extinguished...made dark, corrupted. But it loved her. He loved her too.) It was not right. He did not understand him, or why he wanted to Descend. He did not think that was right, either to deny someone else light, to erase it from the universe but he had not harmed others.

She had begged to cast one more rote...when she thought she was in her final hour as a mage, terror in her eyes...and you denied it to her, afraid of what her Avatar might do you had restrained her hands...just like your brother feared needles...Beatrice feared those cuffs she had worn for so long during her trial...she had asked for one simple rote...and she had been denied...you see her as she was when you stormed in and stopped the ritual, filthy...screaming...and her tiny wrists where broken where cramps of pain had snapped her bones against the cuffs, the very restraints you had put on her...you could almost hear the bones snapping...just like the sound of the green eyed man snapping the bones of his own fingers to deflect the pain...pain you had caused...the storm was not judging you, it could not judge...but it could whisper, and it could lead you to despair...

"No." No. He could not give up. He would not give up. (protector of the turning world) He could not break his Word. He had to protect them. Another step.

It was as if you where agony given purpose, one more step...one more...maintaining the rotes...and step, as if everything floated together but purpose...pain and the ever chasing cloud of despair behind you...around you, despair...that promised relief if you would just give in...and yet you moved...one more step.

Some things could not easily be quantified, but something was better than nothing. And if he could...he could read the full Word in the Grimoire, to restore them...it would be worth it. To turn everything, change...

That brought purpose...intent...what was it...the Grimoire...
"Inside you...part of you...a father's gift..."
The warm voice said again...bringing with you a drop of strength, just a drop, but perhaps that drop was all you needed.

"Thank you," he said. That had hurt too. But now the Umbrood was here. He had saved that one.
And now he had four more and his son made of spirit, who had touched his avatar and been reborn.

Moving hurt, thinking hurt...spellcasting hurt...that voice screaming for her host hurt...and yet your son walked beside you...illuminating it's way, it could not walk your steps or carry your pain or burden...but it could walk with you, and behind you felt your charges and they fearfully moved...you felt the Etherite girl's hand on yours...even that hurt now...but it was there...it was real and it was something to protect...

"I cannot stay with you. I will not. You deserve yes, but I cannot." He held onto Ethyl's hand. He had Sonja and Mona, and Ethyl.

"Stay...give us incarnation...it is cold...confusing...painful...we are lost...we deserve incarnation..."
The voices in the storm whispered.
"Stay and be our new host...stay...stay...stay...stay...stay..."
The splinters rushed towards you and your charges...so hard to deflect and yet you managed to, you managed to do so one more time...

"I love you, adelfi...I will save them. (he held onto them)
Another shuddering step. Everything felt...

The sliver of hope was with you...for just a moment but it gave you the strength for a few more steps...just a few more...you could almost see a old, silver haired Verbena tending to the body of a fallen warrior, his hair as gray as hers...a meaningful death...a good death...but that and the meaningful life that came before it would not happen if you did not take another step...and another painful step...one sliver of hope...but perhaps it was enough.

He had once thought spirits were beautiful in their single natures, and there was truth in their beauty. But it could also be ugliness, and despair and hate...singularly nothingness. Men could choose. They could be all of those things at once.
"I am a man," he agreed, thankful for being reminded. It would be dangerous to forget that. That was madness.

The Umbrood walked with you...pain filled you...what was this golden thing at your side...was it pain as well, did there exist anything but pain? Yes that hand in yours...to long fingers you remember...Sonja's sobs, Mona frightened whimpers...they existed...you existed...but agony was all encompassing...perhaps you where screaming...yet the words for your rotes still came from your lips, loud even is you where so hoarse you doubted you would talk for days...what where days...where they pain? They had to be...there where nothing but pain...steps and determination.

"Thank you, my son." And he reached out with his voice and knocked on the great wall of the gauntlet with it, so he could return them where they belonged. Mona, Sonja, Ethyl. Adley. On the other side. All his friends and loved ones. And the ones he hated. The ones he didn't know, the ones who slept, not knowing what was inside them. The ones that walked while dead. The ones that tried to eat the weak, without knowing eating weakness made them weak. The ones he'd laid on the path of destruction. But there in the chantry were his friends, his loved ones. Somehow they forgave him for being weak. And scared. And not good enough, yet. When he made mistakes and hurt them. They believed in him, just like Mona, Sonja, Dan, Jules, Ethyl. They had been on the other side, they would be again. And the splinters in between would not need to move...they were only going back where they belonged. Malkuth. They were not meant for the paths out here, the one his son walked. Not yet.

You reach out with your will...you had walked the pillar of severity...the middle pillar and Malkuth lay before you. One last rote sent the splinters blocking your path flying...you could learn...you could help them...one day...perhaps...voices...whispers...and then light...as you flung the path to Malkuth open something glorious stood before you...a gatekeeper then, twenty two wings beat in unison, a face more beautiful than you could comprehend, living fire...not like Embra who was a spirit of fire...but the platonic ideal of fire...the soul of fire...
"Do you have the keys to pass?"
The gatekeeper said, it's voice like a thousand worlds burning before new growth could occur.
"Are you the same as before...?"
It asked as sphinx with it's riddles...the storm loomed behind you but if you where to get yourself and your charges to safety you had to reply...you had to give it the key and unlike the storm this being would not be pushed aside, it was a pillar of light and flame, terrible and beautiful, and it guarded the gate that would only let in the worthy."

...the bus stop one would use to get from the docks to Steelhaven...more and more things to navigate showed up, but while you where making progress you could not outrun the storm...

The bus stop. Closer.

Ethel's fingers clutched your hand...or was it Kyle...it was hard to say, to long fingers...urging you on while the voices cried for you to give up, to resign yourself to oblivion...to a sweet...darkness that would forever take away the pain...but you manage to continue, to lead your three charges though the Umbra even if each step is torture...your every fiber cry out for relief...but you continue...ever forward..

Was that the pull of Descention, to unmake oneself and undo...because it hurt so much? The darkness they said was beautiful, the nothing...but he couldn't give them up. There was the ache to give in, and just stop. (there were four and his son walking by his side and the grimoire and all the Names that had come before)

It could not be too far now. A little further.

She had begged to cast one more rote...when she thought she was in her final hour as a mage, terror in her eyes...and you denied it to her, afraid of what her Avatar might do you had restrained her hands...just like your brother feared needles...Beatrice feared those cuffs she had worn for so long during her trial...she had asked for one simple rote...and she had been denied...you see her as she was when you stormed in and stopped the ritual, filthy...screaming...and her tiny wrists where broken where cramps of pain had snapped her bones against the cuffs, the very restraints you had put on her...you could almost hear the bones snapping...just like the sound of the green eyed man snapping the bones of his own fingers to deflect the pain...pain you had caused...the storm was not judging you, it could not judge...but it could whisper, and it could lead you to despair...

He had not trusted her avatar, even when he trusted her...he did not trust easily. People. He hardly had known anyone in the chantry despite being there, choosing to defend it. How could he defend it if he didn't really know them? They'd trusted him on his pater's recommendation, not his own deeds. They had been too few. He had made mistakes. He should have let her cast a rote. She loved him. But because he didn't, because he hadn't, he'd let Molly...he hadn't stopped her, and her song had been beautiful. The tass...crystalline.

That brought purpose...intent...what was it...the Grimoire...
"Inside you...part of you...a father's gift..."
The warm voice said again...bringing with you a drop of strength, just a drop, but perhaps that drop was all you needed.

(but he took the hope and held onto it)(pain is a lonely feeling)

Moving hurt, thinking hurt...spellcasting hurt...that voice screaming for her host hurt...and yet your son walked beside you...illuminating it's way, it could not walk your steps or carry your pain or burden...but it could walk with you, and behind you felt your charges and they fearfully moved...you felt the Etherite girl's hand on yours...even that hurt now...but it was there...it was real and it was something to protect...

It still hurt, he didn't have to check if she was there. If he was there. The sounds of them. Four. And the Umbrood who had chosen to call him Father though he was not all of the spirit, but a man.

The sliver of hope was with you...for just a moment but it gave you the strength for a few more steps...just a few more...you could almost see a old, silver haired Verbena tending to the body of a fallen warrior, his hair as gray as hers...a meaningful death...a good death...but that and the meaningful life that came before it would not happen if you did not take another step...and another painful step...one sliver of hope...but perhaps it was enough

The pain was in his feet. His toes. His nerves. Just do it. One foot then the other. With the three and his son.

The Umbrood walked with you...pain filled you...what was this golden thing at your side...was it pain as well, did there exist anything but pain? Yes that hand in yours...to long fingers you remember...Sonja's sobs, Mona frightened whimpers...they existed...you existed...but agony was all encompassing...perhaps you where screaming...yet the words for your rotes still came from your lips, loud even is you where so hoarse you doubted you would talk for days...what where days...where they pain? They had to be...there where nothing but pain...steps and determination

"We are almost there." He could not tell if he said it. His voice was ragged and his body were locked into the rote. Everything else felt whittled down, burned away, cut. And all the scars that were invisible to the naked eye wept. There was so much sorrow and despair. There was no fear of death but walking...hurt. (we are almost there) Just do it, bring them. It had to be done.

"Do you have the keys to pass?"
The gatekeeper said, it's voice like a thousand worlds burning before new growth could occur.
"Are you the same as before...?"

The keys. Yes, he had them...three and himself. And all the other ones that came before. The ones swirling in the storm, that he only knew breifly. The ones at home. The ones that were home, that had brought him there...his son, who was not made of flesh but had a Name. But for now, he had protected three and himself. He had four keys.

"Yes. Wisdom. Nobility. Unity. The keys to Judiciousness." He carried them. In the grimoire, part of him, a father's gift. In a small amount of hope that they could be protected that restoration was possible. And in Beatrice's care for him and simple instruction to protect them. The being ahead was bright - hard to see and harder to not look. The second question gave him pause in confusion as that was a much simpler question than the first one. He was not the same, no one would be the same (it hurt). "I am not the same as before. The storm is not the same as it was before and before there was a storm, they too were different. And it will be different again after I have passed and after it too has passed." He did not know where the storm came from, or when it would end but he had gotten them through. Three, and himself. All the ones that had helped him become worthy and that he had let himself learn from and trust and all the ones he had fought. And now he stood before the gate offering out the keys. (there were many keys and many doors but this was the door he needed to open now).

The bus stop. Closer.

More and more signposts presented themselves, just like your mentor had taught you to navigate the Umbra, going by feelings and things that where familiar to you, it was a realm of not fully manifested intentions, but the closer to manifestation you got, the clearer the guideposts...the storm howled in despair and anger behind you, but the guideposts got clearer...

Was that the pull of Descention, to unmake oneself and undo...because it hurt so much? The darkness they said was beautiful, the nothing...but he couldn't give them up. There was the ache to give in, and just stop. (there were four and his son walking by his side and the grimoire and all the Names that had come before)

The storm wanted you, wanted your three charges, wanted the girl you where pulling along and it cried for you, and your own body, mind and soul cried for respite, for and end to pain...had there ever been a time when it did not hurt...was there anything but pain? And then there was the light of your son reminding you that there existed something else, something to fight for, a reason to take one more step.

I don't know what this is. Or forgot, that I knew it once...like reading something in a language you don't know, starting from the middle.
(but he took the hope and held onto it)(pain is a lonely feeling)

"You will remember...in time..."
The voice came again, then there where only pain as the bloodied feather moved through your soul. Was this how it had felt for Beatrice when those six Spirit Masters dug at her Avatar, nearly splitting her angle in two? You can almost see them looking like the island creatures from Horizon, digging at her soul...was this how it felt...to be nothing but pain...

It still hurt, he didn't have to check if she was there. If he was there. The sounds of them. Four. And the Umbrood who had chosen to call him Father though he was not all of the spirit, but a man.

The other three where weeping in fear...where they hurting to, had the shards gotten to them...no you did not think so...you where still casting that rote...still holding the storm at bay as you ferried them, your son providing light, slowly, painfully, through the Umbra.

"We are almost there." He could not tell if he said it. His voice was ragged and his body were locked into the rote. Everything else felt whittled down, burned away, cut. And all the scars that were invisible to the naked eye wept. There was so much sorrow and despair. There was no fear of death but walking...hurt. (we are almost there) Just do it, bring them. It had to be done.

The closer you got the more desperate where the storm, the splinters tosses themselves at your barriers, screaming for hosts, demanding you pay for those who had been hurt by your actions.
"If you had not taken you brother in..."
"You should have let her cast that rote..."
"You will be my new Amanda..."
The voices accosting you, the pain in every part of your being, despair an inch away, and you kept on, kept on walking until you saw the Gauntlet...step...step...step...

"Yes. Wisdom. Nobility. Unity. The keys to Judiciousness." He carried them. In the grimoire, part of him, a father's gift. In a small amount of hope that they could be protected that restoration was possible.

The being of light and fire, of pure change, creation and movement nodded, pleased with your answer but it would not let you pass before it had the second part of the reply, and behind you the storm howled in rage, encouraging you to give, to end the pain...

The second question gave him pause in confusion as that was a much simpler question than the first one. He was not the same, no one would be the same (it hurt). "I am not the same as before. The storm is not the same as it was before and before there was a storm, they too were different. And it will be different again after I have passed and after it too has passed." He did not know where the storm came from, or when it would end but he had gotten them through. Three, and himself. All the ones that had helped him become worthy and that he had let himself learn from and trust and all the ones he had fought. And now he stood before the gate offering out the keys. (there were many keys and many doors but this was the door he needed to open now).

"Fire strengthen...fire destroy...and fire create anew..."
The being with twenty two wings said.
"Wisdom comes with a price, to grow you must burn...you have been refined in the kiln...the prima materia have reached it's next stage...you may enter...present the keys."
It said and moved to the side so you could let them in through the Gauntlet...the three and yourself...the door was open.

"You will remember...in time..." The voice came again, then there where only pain as the bloodied feather moved through your soul.

(then it was all pain again but he had a small bit of hope, even if everything felt hopeless)

The other three where weeping in fear...where they hurting to, had the shards gotten to them...no you did not think so...you where still casting that rote...still holding the storm at bay as you ferried them, your son providing light, slowly, painfully, through the Umbra.

"We are almost there. Closer," he said, trying to reassure them in between, when he took a ragged breath and spoke the Words of the rote again. And again.

The closer you got the more desperate where the storm, the splinters tosses themselves at your barriers, screaming for hosts, demanding you pay for those who had been hurt by your actions...(he had once told Tobias that you had to carry it with you and keep going...sometimes he wondered if half the things he said to other people were really meant for himself to hear)
"If you had not taken you brother in..." (Boston would have been lost, perhaps far worse)
"You should have let her cast that rote..." (I should have but I let Molly, I trusted my friends)(his pater had told him to let his care and love make him stronger. His friends were strong and made him strong because...they cared and wanted to, and forgave him even when he didn't want to forgive himself. Even when he was still sorry.)
"You will be my new Amanda..." (I cannot be)

"I will get them to safety, I will protect them," he repeated.

"Fire strengthen...fire destroy...and fire create anew..." The being with twenty two wings said.

He didn't know how weak he'd been, before. Or how he didn't really know anything (a wise man told him...) Or that he knew things other men did not know (and he believed in them). And all there was now was pain and the need to just do it and get it done, and now he was here. With them. And his son. He looked at his son, an ephemera that his own avatar had known, did know. "Will you come with me through the other side, or is your place here, until I see you again, my son?"

"Wisdom comes with a price, to grow you must burn...you have been refined in the kiln...the prima materia have reached it's next stage...you may enter...present the keys." It said and moved to the side so you could let them in through the Gauntlet...the three and yourself...the door was open.

Fire (hurt. A lot...) A part of him told him he should have minded his alchemy teachings better. There were always gaps, then the rest had to catch up then the whole lot of it caught fire...but he knew this one, at least, the prima materia... The keys. Wisdom first, for he was not always a wise man (because he was still a man) but he tried, and had been told he needed wisdom, to make good choices. Then Nobility, not the kind that you could find from being given a crown, or inheriting a title. But a general sense of integrity and decency. And then One-ness, Unity, a more inscrutable key, the one, balancing judgement and compassion. Sonja, Ethyl, Mona. Himself, Adley. He presented the keys and thought of his Earth spirit friends building bridges from the spiritual world down to the material world. The gauntlet was free for them now; he was too tired to smile. There was not exactly a sense of relief either. Just that it would be done. Was being done. Accomplishment. But there was more to do.

"We are almost there. Closer," he said, trying to reassure them in between, when he took a ragged breath and spoke the Words of the rote again. And again.

You do not think your voice have ever felt so weak, if you had not had your Echoes you would probably have no voice left, but in this insane landscape your weakness had become a strength so even if your throat was on fire and screaming for you to stop, your voice still rang clear. Your charges smile to you...or try...or perhaps that was just in your imagination...what was real? The pain was real...that thin hand in your's was real, as for the rest...all you could do was keep walking, taking one more step, and one more...

"I will get them to safety, I will protect them," he repeated.

"You will fail them as you have failed all the rest..."
The wind whispered...or did it...perhaps it was all in your head now as the shards raged around you and that little piece of Amanda dug further into you, causing you more and more pain.

He didn't know how weak he'd been, before. Or how he didn't really know anything (a wise man told him...) Or that he knew things other men did not know (and he believed in them). And all there was now was pain and the need to just do it and get it done, and now he was here. With them. And his son. He looked at his son, an ephemera that his own avatar had known, did know. "Will you come with me through the other side, or is your place here, until I see you again, my son?"

"My place is here father, you birthed me from only a fraction of my name, but I am not like you. I protect, it is what I am, and I protect this storm and the memories in it..."
The Umbrood Lord said and smiles to you...though that smile was just a bit of light that penetrated the haze of pain for a moment.
"Now go father, the path is open this is no longer a place for you."
He said softly.

Fire (hurt. A lot...) A part of him told him he should have minded his alchemy teachings better. There were always gaps, then the rest had to catch up then the whole lot of it caught fire...but he knew this one, at least, the prima materia... The keys. Wisdom first, for he was not always a wise man (because he was still a man) but he tried, and had been told he needed wisdom, to make good choices. Then Nobility, not the kind that you could find from being given a crown, or inheriting a title. But a general sense of integrity and decency.

Slowly they moved, your charges...through the door and to safety...Ethel stopped at the threshold, still holding only your hand, as if she did not know to let go, then she followed Sonja through the glowing gate into the safety beyond...finally releasing her grip on your hand.

And then One-ness, Unity, a more inscrutable key, the one, balancing judgement and compassion. Sonja, Ethyl, Mona. Himself, Adley. He presented the keys and thought of his Earth spirit friends building bridges from the spiritual world down to the material world. The gauntlet was free for them now; he was too tired to smile. There was not exactly a sense of relief either. Just that it would be done. Was being done. Accomplishment. But there was more to do.

As you stepped through the portal there was a flash of light and a sense of peace as the winged creature next to you wrapped it's arms and it's eleven pairs of wings around you...slowly...slowly the pain receded, if it had just vanished you feared the shock might kill you, not that you where able to hold that thought in your head right now...all you know is that it hurt less...and then came realization, you where not an Master of the Art out looking for your lost mentor...Kyle was safe in his cell, Amanda was not even on trial yet, her bloodied angle...if that was even the form of her Avatar was perfectly well and with her, so a piece of it could not be digging into your soul. The realizations came slowly, there was no time only warmth, you where in a bed in a allied Chantry in Chicago...but there where things to do, there where lives in danger...more than lives. You slowly wake up with a sense of urgency but also a sense of almost giddy excitement, you can feel your world spin with your Epiphany, new knowledge...new understanding that where slowly settling in your mind and soul and you know you have walked one more step on your path...though what the new realizations meant...that you would have to work out for yourself...in the distance you hear voice and it takes some time to realize it was Colin and the Virtual Adept Master talking, their voicing having a grounding effect slowly bringing you back to reality until you felt you could open your eyes. The ordeal of the Seeking that you now realize it was, burned in your mind, it felt real, but you knew it was a mindscape...and yet for all the exhaustion you had felt you now felt perfectly rested, your mind at peace...but changed...as if the old you had been burned away and from those ashes a fresh being had arisen.

(OOC: You can note the third dot of Arete on Adley's sheet, and he also regains his lost willpower, though he is in an Epiphany so everything feels rather strange for a while.)

"You will fail them as you have failed all the rest..." The wind whispered...or did it...

"No..." He would not fail them. He had told his adlefi....he would protect them.

"My place is here father, you birthed me from only a fraction of my name, but I am not like you. I protect, it is what I am, and I protect this storm and the memories in it..." The Umbrood Lord said and smiles to you...though that smile was just a bit of light that penetrated the haze of pain for a moment. "Now go father, the path is open this is no longer a place for you."

Protect the storm. Protect the memories...strange...but the howling sorrow was still there. All the broken avatars...and his son a light shining. He had helped him keep on the right path. "Thank you," he told him. Someone had to remember. "I will see you again. Goodbye my son, I love you."

Slowly they moved, your charges...through the door and to safety...Ethel stopped at the threshold, still holding only your hand, as if she did not know to let go, then she followed Sonja through the glowing gate into the safety beyond...finally releasing her grip on your hand.

He thanked Mona, as she went through the door and then gave Ethyl's hand a squeeze. "It is safe to go onward now. Find your mentor's sister. Remember. And thank you," he said as she finally pried her hand away to follow the healer. He thanked Mona too, and then they were gone, they were through. He had accomplished the task.

The realizations came slowly, there was no time only warmth, you where in a bed in a allied Chantry in Chicago...but there where things to do, there where lives in danger...more than lives. You slowly wake up with a sense of urgency but also a sense of almost giddy excitement, you can feel your world spin with your Epiphany, new knowledge...new understanding that where slowly settling in your mind and soul and you know you have walked one more step on your path...though what the new realizations meant...that you would have to work out for yourself...in the distance you hear voice and it takes some time to realize it was Colin and the Virtual Adept Master talking, their voicing having a grounding effect slowly bringing you back to reality until you felt you could open your eyes.

The loss of sensations of agony were disorienting...then everything else began to slowly filter down, through...permeate him...comforting sounds of Colin and the Adept, speaking and he was in Chicago. There was no storm (was that real? A figment of his fear for Adjan and Molly?). There was no ship (he had told them to ram the Juggernaught with the Rose...the Deaconness here was named Rose, once his mentor in another life, when his name meant the flood and his sister's name meant clarity). He had not yet lost them, his mentor, his brother...The Blade still lived but the path had been opened. He did not open his eyes for a while, trying to sort through what happened and remember it all. The grimoire...the keys (who were people, and he could not have gotten that far without them).

In a place absolved of the harshness of time, he wasn't sure how long he just lay there, feeling that the pain had receded but the urgency to get up and get back to work did not let him stay for overlong. He opened his eyes and glanced around, half-expecting the storm to be here too, the storm that he'd walked through forever (made of broken souls) to protect them. He blinked, realising that in that dream he'd...been a Master of the Ars. He could still hear his voice...and he and his avatar had birthed an Umbrood...and that there was something he needed to understand, how to restore them, find the grimoire. The less subtle imposition of the Nephandi's plots came back to him too. He tried to sit up, though everything felt as if it were both turning and fixed. Found his shoes and began to put them on.

// Yay willpower and painful wisdom! Permission also to change his demeanor to Protector instead?

Protect the storm. Protect the memories...strange...but the howling sorrow was still there. All the broken avatars...and his son a light shining. He had helped him keep on the right path. "Thank you," he told him. Someone had to remember. "I will see you again. Goodbye my son, I love you."

"I can not love father...I understand the concept...but I am unable to do so...but I can appreciate and I do appreciate you."
The Umbrood said before he turned and wandered back into the storm, an Avatar had been his womb so he could hear them, but they could not hurt him as he slowly walked away.

He thanked Mona, as she went through the door and then gave Ethyl's hand a squeeze. "It is safe to go onward now. Find your mentor's sister. Remember. And thank you," he said as she finally pried her hand away to follow the healer. He thanked Mona too, and then they were gone, they were through. He had accomplished the task.

Ethel stayed for just a second...looking at you as you thanked her then she gave the briefest of smiles then she was gone...they where safe, your charges where safe, they and their Avatars would live on...the task was done.

(OOC: Yes by all means change demeanor as you please. And yes Adley's Avatar is not so much a hippie higher self, wisdom comes at a prize considering he is an actual angle in the occult sense of the word I felt that was appropriate.)

"I can not love father...I understand the concept...but I am unable to do so...but I can appreciate and I do appreciate you." The Umbrood said before he turned and wandered back into the storm...

This did not bother him; it was not as if he expected him to be any different. He was what he was and that was enough. He'd helped him get them safely across, protect them. H was glad the Umbrood was appreciative according to his own nature. Adley didn't linger looking backward though, into that great morass of broken souls. His son would take to his own wanderings for now and Adley had his charges. He'd come this far and stood at the gate.

// righty then! Done so : )