Beneath the Dragoneye Moons

Chapter 591: Snowflakes

The ashes came up to my shins now. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to walk on the ashes without leaving a trace, or sink through, leaving swishing footprints in the grey remnants of life and civilization.

It was cold far earlier in the year than it had any right to be, and I suspected we were in for a particularly harsh and brutal winter. Auri was going to be a literal lifesaver hundreds of times over - without easy access to firewood to burn, with limited reserves, the fact that Auri was a neverending font of controlled fire was going to save the citizens of Orthus Village.

I was going to freeze my pretty ass off. Immunity to fire was great until it wasn’t, and I was seriously mentally debating spending significant amounts of time in my [Tower] just to stay warm. That, or cocoon myself in layer after layer of clothing, then liberally apply [Teleportation] to any and all problems. Ventilating our house so we didn’t breathe all the air also gave passage to the South Wind to attempt murder. Or... I could be a little less of an idiot and just Radiance myself. I didn’t have [Radiance Resistance] anymore.

I made a decision on the ashes, and split the difference on how I’d walk. One foot stepped on the ashes, leaving no footprint, no trace of my passage, and the other thudded deep into the not-snow, giving me a staggered walk, like a lady only wearing one heel.

The thick clouds above me parted, roiling away like the sea in the wake of a great ship, and I’d restrained in myself the instinct to flinch, to cast my eyes up to the sky and expect disaster.

Disaster was in the sky, but it was not coming for me. A full flight of dragons were speeding along, off to commit violence and ruin someone’s day.

A dragon sighting was a rare, once-a-decade experience.

A full flight of them was a nightmare, the normally solitary beasts cooperating only under the worst of circumstances. Part of me wanted to try [Identifying] them, but I remembered how, impossibly, Lun’Kat had been able to tell I’d been looking at her. I wasn’t about to tug the dragon’s tail. The saying was usually metaphorical.

They vanished to the west, and I hurried home. I didn’t speed, didn’t fly, didn’t chain teleports, nor did I dawdle. My hand was on the doorknob when a pillar of volcanic flame erupted far over the horizon.

I couldn’t tell if the pillar was small and nearby, or a fraction of the world away and so deep in space I could see it. Given the speed of the dragonflight and the timing...

Somebody was having a really, really bad day.

But hey, it wasn’t every day we got to witness dragons causing havoc way over there.

“Hey Raccoon! You’re going to want to see this!” I shouted.

After a quick discussion with Iona and Auri, I went off, following the dragonflight and the low-space marker they’d sent up. I spent half the trip there dodging and weaving through falling rocks, until I eventually gave up trying to dodge the endless unintentional barrage and just powered through it all with [The Mantle of Dusk and Dawn].

I had no hopes of finding any survivors in an eight-mile radius around the edge of the dragon strike. I didn’t bother looking, simply eyed the gigantic lake of Lava warily before flying around the rim, seeing if there was anyone who merely got clipped by the collateral. Someone half-crushed by the falling rocks.

The thick black smoke meant I was relying entirely on [The World Around Me] to see, and practically speaking, I was ‘seeing’ by looking for any level up notifications, given how dramatic my healing range was compared to my visual range. Thank goodness for the extra eyelids I’d included in my biomancy transformation, because of them, the smoke wasn’t unbearably itchy.

There were no levels, no notifications. I didn’t know if it was due to my level and the fact I’d done this sort of disaster healing before, the situation, or if my efforts were futile, and there was nobody to heal. My mana wasn’t giving me any clues, giving a ceiling to how much healing I could be doing.

I wanted it to be the first one. That I was so good at healing, that I was so powerful that this wasn’t a challenge, that cleaning up a mess wasn’t risky or weighty, that I was gaining no levels.

My heart of hearts believed that everyone was dead. No matter how I extended my radius, I wasn’t getting any levels.

I screamed in frustration. I screamed and screamed into the uncaring void, my cries of despair swallowed by the ever-falling ashes. I screamed until I breathed in too much, then coughed myself hoarse before screaming again.

Why?

Why!?

Why did people have to fight, to die. It was all just so senseless. I wished I could snap my fingers and change the world, but I couldn’t be the first or the last to wish for a lasting, enduring peace. It had clearly fallen apart every time.

I was useless here, but there were other places I could go, other people I could help. I flew up high, high enough where my skin tingled against the thin air and my healing started to work just to keep me alive, and looked down at Pallos.

The blue marble had turned into a grey globe. I oriented myself, the task far harder than it had been just a year ago. I shook my head at how different everything was. The shape of the coastlines were still there, but all the details were different. Peninsulas had turned into islands, bays had been created and filled in, new mountains dotted the landscape and others had been leveled. Lakes had turned into swamps, and grassy fields now had craters being slowly filled in. Vast swaths of green forests had turned into charcoal black. Not a single mango grove was to be found - I’d plotted all of them on my mental map. I double checked them all, looking for any little speck of green. There had to be some survivors, yeah...? R

I’d read a few diaries of prior Immortal Wars. None of them had described devastation quite on this scale.

The world hadn’t changed so badly I didn’t know exactly where I was, and I was able to spot a few landmarks, quickly identifying more.

Right as I spotted Lake Mare, an aurora started to shine around me. I eyed the brilliant greens and blues with suspicion, alert and waiting for an assault.

When nothing happened I shrugged.

Sometimes, auroras just happened.

Sometimes, there was a bit of light and joy in the world.

I flew down to Mare Town, mentally tracing out a path, two dozen locations in the world I knew were still up, alive, and fighting to restore civilization.

“Flightysaurus!” She affectionately nicknamed me. “You’re back! Come snuggle?” She opened up her blankets, patting her lap.

I wanted nothing more than to curl up with Iona and snuggle with her. Warm in the blankets, snow falling outside, the fire crackling with my best friend. We could probably get some tea going - pine needle tea was an acquired taste - and enjoy each other’s presence. Trade some stories with Titania, the woman was a veritable font of them.

I was still holding the chisel.

I shook my head.

“Would love to, and I will later. I’ve got something to do first. It’s about time, I think.” I held it up.

Iona went quiet.

“Ah.” Was all she said.

“Brrrpt?” Auri asked. Titania was tactful enough to give me a slow nod.

“Don’t worry about it, Auri.” I said. “Stay in here where it’s warm.”

“Yeah, shoo.” Iona politely waved me out. “I’ll stay up until you come back.”

“It might be a while.” I said. She shrugged.

“So? I’ve held vigils for lesser things.”

I [Teleported] over and planted a kiss on Iona’s surprised lips, then vanished a moment later.

Off to the mountain, off to where our home had been.

I circled for quite a bit, looking for the best spot. One particularly steep cliff was the best bet, and I spent a long three minutes studying it.

Then I flew up and liberally applied [The Rays of the First Dawn] to the cliff, making it mirror-smooth and shiny. There was a single large crack running down the middle, and I would simply need to work around it.

I suspected I might run out of room, and went tiny. I could always add in obelisks later if needed, each one another page. I could make an entire forest out of them.

[Astral Archives] was my perfect memory skill, and more practically, it was arranged like a library. Information stored in a thousand books, easily copied, moved, sorted, and ordered. Some books were special to me, like my copy of the Medical Manuscripts or beloved memories. Others were written into large volumes and promptly shoved into various dusty corners, like what I had for breakfast four days ago.

Spoiler: It was rotten carrots again.

I tenderly brought one of my most precious books to the forefront of my mind, one of the only volumes of memories I’d named.

The Book of the Dead.

I mentally opened it to the first page as I got my chisel ready. I didn’t need a hammer, not with my stats, not with [Everywoman] guiding my movements. I could use my [Rays], but I wanted to do it by hand. It meant more.

I carved small. The wall was gigantic; my book was larger.

Plus, I needed room for the inevitable expansion.

Lyra. My first friend, my biggest mistake.

The first name carved into stone, a flicker of immortality for my ancient friend. Once more her name was out in the world, once more people’s eyes could see and wonder.

It was one name among literal tens of thousands that I wanted to write down, that I wanted to carve into stone. I wasn’t foolish enough to think it’d last forever, but I could hope for a thousand years of remembrance.

Elainus. My father, who welcomed me into this world. I kept it to just his praenomen, I needed the space.

Julia. My mother, who tucked me in at night.

Origen. A Ranger, one of my first companions as I set off on my life’s adventure.

Name after name, person after person, life after life, I carved their name into the wall. From my parents to a beggar whose name I’d barely overheard, from Emperor Augustus to Sunrise, all were equal, all were memorialized. There were thousands and thousands of new names to add, Atlas being the largest tragedy for Auri. I was almost certain Auri’s favorite guard was dead. I couldn’t say the same about most of the Sentinels, and it was frustrating. I understood the ‘decade to declare dead’ policy so much better in the moment.

Little stars denoted those I believed could have a chance of being alive, as the snowflakes melted into tears.