Chapter 38
“In times of crisis, it is permissible for the high council of the Empyrean to be summoned to a session outside of the usual scheduled hours. Such members that are capable of attending should take all measures to do so. Either in person, or via secured communications, at their earliest opportunity. Those who fail to attend will not be permitted to cast a vote in the decision, though in extenuating circumstances, a proxy may be assigned. Such matters as can be defined as a ‘time of crisis’ are laid out in supplementary documents 3F through 3L. Such matters as can be defined as “extenuating circumstances” are laid out in supplementary documents 8P through 8V.”
—The Concordance of the Empyrean Alliance, Supplementary Document 93.5B
True to Vaelith’s word, Sylvas did not see the inside of the brig on Onslaught Citadel. But that was only because he was considered both too dangerous and valuable to be kept so close to the central core of the station in case he was capable of interacting with the worldsoul shard that powered the whole place from a distance. Instead he was relegated to one of the disused hangars on the main ring, where an assortment of hastily assembled furniture had been delivered, and a great many automated defense systems had been bolted onto the walls and ceiling. This way it ensured that there was nowhere for him to go but cold space, nor anywhere someone else attempting to get to him could come from that wasn’t otherwise monitored.
And he was most certainly being monitored by a plethora of scrying spells and more mundane equipment, all of whom were tied into seeming paradoxical responses.
One being a trigger that would shoot him dead if he tried to escape and another being to entomb him inside a magical and metal fortress if he needed to be protected from an unexpected attack or threat. It was clear to Sylvas just after minutes of his arrival that the Ardent’s mindset was that if they couldn’t have him to keep and study, that no one would be able to.
Once he was settled into his new home, Sylvas was informed by those observing him that he was permitted to cycle mana, as they wanted to monitor and observe how it coursed through his body. The only caveat was that he had to do so gently and steadily, lest the automated defenses aimed at him didn’t falsely interpret the movement of mana inside him as casting and decide to blast him to pieces.
To pass the time, he set about assembling the furniture he’d been provided into something resembling a room in the middle of the vast empty space. His hands had been freed, apart from the weight of the heavy white bracers that had been restraining him, the chain linking them together having been removed. Unfortunately out of the furniture that he’d been given so far, it hadn’t included a desk or chair, so if he wanted to sit, it would have to be on the military grade cot, or on the arguably much more comfortable cold metal floor.
Just as his room was rather austereso too had he been stripped of any equipment he was still carrying on him, and presumably someone down on Strife had retrieved his orbitals. He’d been told in passing that his belongings would be put in storage until such a time they were deemed appropriate to be returned to him. The only things of note that they did leave him was just his uniform and his crest, both of which Sylvas assumed he was allowed to keep due to their defensive, or in the case of the crest, monitoring capabilities. Once he’d been settled into the place, he’d been told that the interrogation wouldn’t begin until the next day, seemingly when the arrival of the Inquisitor was anticipated. He supposed was a sort of kindness to know that he had a chance to rest after the excitement of the tournament, but now that he’d had a chance to sit and grow accustomed to that, the empty hours of waiting stretched out ahead of him ominously.
Oh no, boredom. Mira chided him after the thoughts circled through him several times. You might have to confront some of your deep-seated trauma about… oh no wait, we already did that. You shoved it into me. I guess we’ll have to catch up on our reading instead, seeing as they didn’t disable your eye slate. Maybe we can use this chance to start planning out our fifth and final circle?
Sylvas blinked at his other half’s thought. He had literally just achieved his fourth circle just hours earlier and it would take time for the structures to stabilize before he was able to pursue another.
Stabilize, yes, you’re absolutely right. But on the other hand, reading about other Embodiments and Paradigms is most assuredly not going to make you explode. Mira’s droll reply filtered into his mind. Come now darling, you’re lucky that you’re pretty as you are, for there’s clearly nothing going on behind those eyes of yours.
Sylvas grimaced as he tried to resist a smile. If he was being observed then the last thing he wanted to show was that he was happy about his current situation. At best, it would be taken the wrong way and be used against him, at worst, it could end up causing one of the systems watching him to panic and end up with him being pre-emptively launched into space.
Now, I have narrowed down the selection a little, since your last attempt at seeking out a new embodiment and paradigm took a rather too broad approach for my liking. We have a focus now on two things, your ability to generate and integrate Etherium for the Embodiment, and a way to improve my predictive abilities for the Paradigm.
You’ve just decided this? He thought to himself as he began browsing through the texts she’d offered up, deciding that it was better not to talk out loud lest he be found unhinged.
No, darling. You decided this, I’m just voicing the decision that you have already made. I’m you, remember?
He lay back on the cot, feeling the tight fabric refuse to mold into his back. It was so profoundly uncomfortable that even his Runewoven body couldn’t quite mask it. So why don’t you enlighten me, why have I decided that getting my fifth circle as soon as possible is important?
Because based on the odds that I am calculating there are few outcomes to this investigation that will see you retaining access to the resources that the Ardent can provide you. Mira explained in her typical know-it-all tone. Right now your most probable future is: being murdered, executed, kidnapped, imprisoned, or failing those options, being turned into a lab rat for quite possibly the rest of your life, which if I may remind you with our Runeweave embodiment alone is likely to number in the centuries now.
Sylvas couldn’t help but feel a shiver race down his back at that thought, feeling his heart quicken a beat as Mira continued speaking.
Should we somehow manage to escape those obvious fates, then the next things most likely to happen are that you will be tasked to become an Etherium factory, devouring eidolons by the horde to fuel the Empyrean Alliance. Truthfully that option perhaps isn’t the worst, assuming they can provide you with some creature comforts, but we both know that it would be a waste of what we can do.
So what does that leave then? Sylvas pressed as his bleak future was laid out before him. For me to become a living weapon? We’ve already seen the fear they look at me with and I’ve only just discovered this power. Do you think that they’ll let me master it? To become even more dangerous than I already am?
There was a long pause before a reply came.
What I think, is that if you want to survive this, you need to become as strong and dangerous as possible without their approval. First to ensure that your voice his heard, and second, to do something about it if it isn’t.
That last statement surprised him a little. And what would I do?
But instead of answering Sylvas with mere words, Mira instead dumped a barrage of mental images into his mind, showcasing all of the options that he had before him. It was right then that Sylvas learned there were a great many thoughts that he wasn’t comfortable in having. He didn’t like thinking about turning on the Ardent and the Empyrean, even if it meant his continued survival, but Mira had no trouble voicing those thoughts at all. She had always joked about being all the darker parts of him, but maybe she was just the part of him that was more honest.
He read late into the night, browsing through the available options. In terms of his embodiment, he already knew exactly what he wanted to do, even if it wasn’t something that had already been described in any of the texts he’d encountered so far. Presumably because only someone with his unique combination of embodiments and affinity could actually every hope to achieve it. Strangely, it would be much simpler than any of his prior embodiments despite him having to invent it himself. Meanwhile, the paradigm still eluded him. There were many that would accelerate cognitive speed in various ways, but that would just let Mira generate wrong predictions faster, not arrive at correct ones. Similarly, anything that might have enhanced his senses would just overload her processing power with more information to sift through without any guarantee that any of it would be helpful.
What he actually wanted his next paradigm to do seemed to have the same issue as his embodiments, it was simply beyond the scope of any of the existing ones available. So he instead turned his attention to more scientific texts, trying to work out exactly how gravity and time interacted with each other. His goal was to work out what he could do once he’d started eliminating the pull of gravity and just produced its other effects.
A meal was eventually delivered through the docking bay by one of the staff, but all of the automated defenses had sprung to life when he began moving in that direction, so he waited patiently and politely until they were gone and the door was shut before heading over to collect it. It was the typical fare that he was used to down on the planet, complete with the same special supplement packs that he’d been taking to build, and now maintain, his Runeweave embodiment. It gave everything an acrid metallic flavor that he couldn’t abide, but it was a simple enough matter to filter that flavor out with his Clearmind paradigm. Then it just tasted like a yeasty nutritional slop instead.
With his fourth circle complete, his body technically didn’t need to sleep as much as he used to, but his mind still insisted that he was tired not long after his meal, so he settled back down on the torturous cot, and against all of the odds he’d given himself, managed to relax, if just by a hair. He put it down to emotional exhaustion after the day he’d just been through, but it could very well have been the usual kind of exhaustion. He’d pushed himself harder today than he ever had before. All for the great reward of his present conditions.
There is no point in being bitter, darling.
I think I’m entitled to feeling a little bitter. He grumbled back. All things considered.
Shall I sing you a little lullaby?
Despite himself, he smiled at the idea. I don’t know any lullabies.
Huh, so you don’t. Shame. Oh well, turning your brain off it is then.
