Kanin Fyre: Chapter 20 - Fyre

Ending up in an entirely new place isn’t as disorienting as I would have thought. I’ve teleported myself around with Displace enough at this point that popping out in a completely different setting and orientation is starting to become rote. Still, I don’t think it can be said I was prepared for what followed. 

I take in my new surroundings in an instant: I’m in a stone room adorned like a study, full of cozy chairs, books, and a desk overflowing with writing material. The furnishings are all red. 

There are two other people in the room. A black arachnoid woman carrying a spear she certainly looks like she knows how to use, and a harpy with feathers all the colors of a sunrise. It’s the second who I immediately latch onto. 

“Fyre,” Blair says, gesturing to me. “This is Kanin.” 

Zyneth steps through just after me, with Aquenno following us in last, but I’m hardly aware of their presences or Blair’s words, because it’s taken all of the five seconds I’ve been here for Ink to notice the other remnant. 

It’s everywhere. 

Ink erupts in an angry, defensive mass of shadows, swirling around me in a barrier of void. Zyneth and the arachnoid shout, and Blair steps quickly aside. A ravenous pressure descends on us as Ink growls and lashes out at nothing. I can’t tell where the sensation is coming from, but there certainly is something here, and its presence frightens me almost as much as Ink’s reaction. It’s acting like an injured animal backed into a corner. It’s going to hurt someone if it’s not careful. 

Ink! Calm down, I think at it, trying to wrestle with its grip on our void. But it doesn’t listen—we’re in danger—and honestly I’m not completely fighting back. I can feel that it’s right. This remnant has the potential to do some serious damage. And the worst part is, we have no idea where it is or how to defend ourselves. 

“Stop,” the harpy says. She tightly grips the edge of the table with a grimace. “We’ve been over this.” 

Ink focuses on her. She’s not the source of this, but it can feel something through her. The faintest hint of that magnetic draw. With nothing else to go on, it decides she’s the one who is causing this. For our own safety, she is the one we must eliminate.

“No!” I cry. 

Ink stabs a limb of void toward her. I grab at it with everything I have, throwing all my willpower into the effort, panic strengthening my resolve. At the same time, the arachnoid moves, blurring in front of the harpy, spear raised. I grip the void, forcing it to a quivering stop, and wrangling Ink into submission. It still trashes against my hold, itself panicked and desperate, but its attack doesn’t land. 

Unfortunately, while I managed to stay Ink’s blow, the arachnoid has reacted with an attack of her own. Her spear is whipping toward me. I could defect it with our void—if I wasn’t still fighting Ink. But I’m worried that if I let it engage in a fight, my control would slip, and Ink would make us do something I’d regret. 

Then, Zyneth is there. He dashes in front of me, blades drawn, and a metallic screech pierces the room as he slashes her spear to the side. 

“Stop!” the harpy calls. “Mirzayael—don’t—”

Electricity crackles in Zyneth’s blades as he sinks into a defensive posture. The arachnoid, too, resets her stance, one of her legs tapping the ground in tense anticipation, ready to lunge. 

Then, the pressure on our mind relents. The aggressive hunger vanishes as quickly as it came, and Ink and I are left standing there, defending ourselves against nothing. Hesitantly, Ink draws back, its shadows still swirling close and defensively around me. 

“Enough,” the harpy says, this time her tone weary. She slumps against the desk. “It’s over.” 

I take an intentional step back, drawing my void with me. It’s only then that the arachnoid risks glancing away from Zyneth, looking back to check on the harpy.

“It’s okay,” I also tell Zyneth. “I’ve got it under control.” Only because the threat is gone and Ink has stopped fighting, but no one needs to know that. 

Still keeping an eye on the arachnoid, Zyneth carefully eases out of his stance, electricity flickering out, as he retreats to my side. The arachnoid lowers her spear and withdraws as well. Zyneth gives me a worried look, and on the other side of the room, the arachnoid seems to be silently checking on the harpy as well. 

“Well,” Blair says after a moment of silence. “That went better than expected.” 

“Are you kidding me?” I say. “We almost…” Probably shouldn’t finish that thought in front of Blair. 

The harpy sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I wish you would have given us better warning of what to expect, Blair.”

The god looks over both of us impassively. “You were both informed the other had a powerful remnant. I’m not sure what further warning you could have desired.” 

“The fact that it’s some kind of homunculus, for one,” the arachnoid says. 

“He is named Kanin, if you please.” Despite Zyneth’s polite words, his tone is clipped.  

Now that I’m finally given a spare second to think, I Check the two standing opposite me. 

[Fyre: Level 30 Phoenix Harpy Psion]

[Mirzayael: Level 34 Arachnoid Silk Warrior]

In comparison, I’m level 29 and Zyneth is 36. Sure glad I have Zyneth on my side. But hey—how did Fyre get to be a higher level than me, even though I’ve been on this world longer? She’s obviously the Traveler, since she has a Role and is connected to the remnant. But I wasn’t expecting her to look like this. 

Why the hell does she have a body?

“Hey,” I say. “Why do you have a body?”

Wait, no, my first line was supposed to be something confident or reassuring.

Fyre laughs like music, covering a shy smile with her hand. “I was wondering much the inverse about you.” 

“Well, my soul ended up here, but my body got left on Earth.” And I’m pretty sure the same is true for all of the Lost Soul. They were already in the Between. I watched as the predator pulled them back into Lusio. They were definitely just souls, not bodies. Had this one found some sort of mage that was able to give her an organic form? Have others? I guess this is going to need to be a longer conversation. About our bodies, about our remnants… and about how she ended up here. My soul sinks.

“Look, ah, that’s not important,” I continue. “There’s some things we probably need to talk about.” 

Mirzayael cuts in before Fyre can reply. Her voice is low and soft but commanding. “First, I believe we need to lay some ground rules. You are in our Kingdom, and so you will comply with our law. I am already granting you an exceptional amount of grace. If anyone else had dared threaten one of our rulers, I would have immediately subdued them.”

“You may have tried,” Zyneth mutters under his breath. 

But something else caught my attention. “One of your rulers?” 

Fyre smiles guiltily. “It’s a long story.” 

“But,” Mirzayael says, raising her voice over the three of us, “I understand that these Roles of yours compel you to do things you have no control over. As such, I am willing to overlook your transgression. However, understand that while you may gain Fyre’s trust, you will have to earn mine separately. One toe out of line, and we retain the right to remove you from our kingdom, by whatever means necessary. Understood?”

Man, this one is even more cautious than Zyneth. And it sounds like she knows about the Roles, too. Although, she assumed that my Role is the reason I attacked Fyre, which isn’t the case. Another misunderstanding I don’t intend to correct until I feel more comfortable that I won’t be smited or stabbed for admitting the truth.

“Understood,” I reply. 

Mirzayael glares at Zyneth next. 

“Of course,” he agrees tightly. “I wouldn’t want to provoke a queen.” 

I carefully watch Zyneth. His hand isn’t on the hilt of his knife—probably to pacify our prickly host. But he still seems agitated in a way I haven’t seen before. Is it because we’re in a kingdom? Running away from his own is bound to carry some baggage. 

“Good,” Blair says. “I am pleased with what I have witnessed here. I believe you two stand to demonstrate a strong case for enshrining the protections of Travelers. Things will not move quickly—they rarely do, in the Heavens—but this will certainly help. Now, as I mentioned before, my window here is short. I can only stay for another hour before I must depart.” She looks to Zyneth and I. “I can either leave you here or take you back.” 

I doubt an hour will be enough to talk through everything I need to with Fyre. Besides, we don’t have anywhere else to be.

“We’ll probably stay, if it’s alright with our hosts,” I say. Fyre looks pleased by the suggestion, while Mirzayael looks quite the opposite. “I’ll let you know what we decide when you’re about to leave.” 

Blair dips her head. “As you wish.” 

The six of us stand there in an awkward moment of silence. 

Fyre claps her hands. “Well! We should get started then, shouldn’t we? I think a tour is in order. We can speak while we walk, if that’s alright. I need to go check up on Ollie and reassure him I’m fine.” 

“Sure.” I wonder who Ollie is, and why he would need to be reassured. The door is closed and there aren’t even windows in this room. How could anyone outside know what was going on? 

“Great,” Fyre says, her enthusiasm feeling a little forced. 

Or perhaps that’s just me projecting. The mood is not as friendly as Fyre is acting, with Zyneth and Mirzayael throwing constant eye-daggers at each other. But getting out of the cramped room sounds like it might help to diffuse some of the lingering tension and give all of us (most of us) room to breathe. 

I had expected to step into a hallway, but when we emerge from the office, we’re in an even larger hall. There are two thrones at the head, with a mirror along one wall, doubling the room’s apparent size, and swirls of stunning mosaics covering the floor and ceiling. Tapestries hang from the walls, too, and the room stretches high with impressively ornate columns and arches. The red and orange colors of the throne room, combined with sparkling gold highlights, makes everything look ablaze. 

“I’m sure there’s much to speak about with regard to our remnants,” Fyre says, leading us toward a large, open-air balcony in one of the walls. 

She waits for me to join her, and I’m not oblivious to how Zyneth and Mirzayael shadow us closely behind. Up close, Fyre appears a little older than I’d initially guessed. There’s crows feet at the corner of her eyes, and laugh lines around her mouth. 

“First, however, I’d like to introduce you to another Traveler,” she says.

“There’s two of you?” I ask, astonished. And a little overwhelmed. Talking to Fyre is going to be hard enough as it is. Having to explain how they ended up here twice is pushing the capacity of my emotional battery. 

“Three, actually,” Fyre says as my soul continues to sink. “And hopefully, one day, many more. I’ve only recently started to put out feelers to find more of us. It’s difficult, since I have to show I mean well and I’m not one of the gods trying to trick them into exposing themselves. No offense intended, Blair.” 

“No offense taken,” she replies. “It seems a rational fear to account for.” 

Fyre and I step out onto the balcony, sunlight spilling over us. It’s incredibly bright. So bright, I can’t even make out the sky—or, no, wait. 

There’s a circle of blue directly overhead, partially obscured by a scattering of dark shadows, while a tiered city spreads down before us. Like the throne room, the architecture outside is equally stunning. The rooftops are covered in red, orange, and yellow clay tiles, and far, far beneath us, farmland spreads both inside and outside the city walls. But not far beyond the walls. The grassy hills abruptly end in a wall of white. 

White clouds. 

The blue circle above me is the only part of the real sky that we can see. What encircles us is a wall of fluffy white clouds. The dark shadows in the air are floating blocks of land. And now that I’m focusing on what’s outside the city, these surroundings become suspiciously familiar. 

“Are we in the Drifting Isles?” I ask, dumbstruck.

Zyneth pauses at my words, looking around in awe. “We are. How is this possible? We were only here a few months ago.”

And there certainly hadn’t been a giant city-castle on the floor of the Ruins when we passed through it then.

“Were you?” Fyre continues across the abnormally wide balcony so she can pause at its balustrade. “Funny timing. We only moved in one month ago.” 

“Moved in?” I repeat, increasingly baffled. “How do you just move a city into a floating island?”

“With a lot of effort,” Fyre says with a chuckle. 

A shadow passes over us. Zyneth jumps back, knives drawn even before a rumbling roar shakes the stone beneath us. A gust of wind hits us, though I’m the only one to stumble.

“Please stand back,” Fyre says to us. “He needs room to land.” 

The shadow circles us once more as Zyneth and I retreat toward the balustrade. Then, a massive white dragon lands on the balcony before us. It puffs out a breath full of sparkling frost as it cranes down toward us. Its teeth are as long and sharp as swords, and it could probably swallow all six of us here in one go, if it was determined enough. Ink stirs defensively in my mind, ready for an attack. I don’t really blame it this time; it takes all my willpower not to step back. 

“Kanin,” Fyre says, approaching the dragon and holding out a hand. The beast gently nuzzles her palm. “This is Ollie. Ollie, this is our guest, Kanin. He’s from Earth, like us.” 

The massive beast swings its head in our direction. It doesn’t open its mouth, but a voice abruptly emanates from it. 

A strangely childlike voice. 

“OH COOL!” the dragon says. “MORE FRIENDS! HEY, WHY DO YOU LOOK SO WEIRD?”