Ramose wiped the sweat from his brow, his fists white, clenched. Mere seconds had passed since Nephthys had torn reality asunder, yet the unease had penetrated his body, soaking into his bones, perfusing his blood, pumping its cancerous presence throughout him, his two hearts unwittingly spreading the infection.
He struggled to keep his breathing steady, and a pressure like iron constricted his chest. He felt every double-pump of his hearts. His pulse pounded in his head, vibrated his eyes, and threatened to burst from his chest.
————————————
“Your suggestion does interest me, stellar one. However, what do I, what do we, gain from it? You are asking me to abandon my home, my people, but for what?” the matriarch asked.
“There are many benefits to summoning contracts. The benefit to myself and Nemesis is as explained, but the benefits to the summoned include functional invincibility, strengthening opportunities in other realms, and companionship, among other things.
“As a summon, you and your children, should you choose to summon them as well, will be returned here, to your native plane, if you suffer what amounts to fatal damage.
“Though this does not preclude you from trauma and psychological damage you might incur in another realm, it does mean that you have the opportunity to train yourself without fear of death.
“I should note that there are circumventions that exist to this ‘invincibility’. Soul damage, for example, will follow you back. However, the general threats to one’s life functionally will not apply to you while summoned,” Nephthys explained, still cross-legged in the air, her arms also crossed before her.
“You have my attention, but what can you offer me? True, breaching the dimensional boundary is quite the feat, but I wonder, was that your accomplishment alone? Perhaps you received help from higher beings on your own plane, or perhaps you supplemented your strength with a ritual.
“You speak of strengthening myself, but I have not yet measured myself against you. I do not know your strength. Perhaps, it is you who needs to strengthen yourself in my company,” the matriarch suggested.
Suddenly, the cavern became a colossal temple. The weavers jumped and skittered and chattered, unnerved as their sharp legs failed to find purchase on the walls and ceiling they had just clung to. A black rain of chitin fell throughout the chamber, the smooth stone walls untouched by the myriad silk grapples, which slid from them as if coated in oil.
The ornate arches in the ceiling crumbled, the debris flowing upward into a whirlpool of stone that swirled through the air. The shattered ceiling revealed a sweeping expanse of colored gas and twinkling stars like a curtain drawn back across the cosmos.
Above it all loomed a cold moon, its indigo light shining down and reflecting off the shells below. It seemed condescending as it hung there, gazing on the gathered host with obvious derision for the lesser creatures forced to crawl along the ground.
Nephthys floated above a raised dais in the center of the temple, her hands held against her sides but raised slightly, palms opened toward the matriarch, who gazed at her with wonder, her question answered.
“Now this…is interesting,” the matriarch declared.
————————————
A flash pulled Ramose from his internal distress, and the unease vanished instantly, leaving him sweating and shaking for no reason, as if he had imagined his discomfort.
Nephthys’ eyes were now open, and she gazed upon a kneeling form that repulsed Ramose on first glance. Its body appeared bipedal, kneeling in a pose that one might mistake for human—if one were half-blind.
It was covered by black scales with distinct separations. Ramose had never seen the like in scaled beasts. The texture reminded him of cracked desert ground, where ‘scales’ of earth were separated by large fissures that one could trip over if not careful.
Not scales, chitin, he realized, the creature's other limbs clearing his confusion.
In addition to the two arms and legs a human would have, four more limbs protruded from its back, as if a mockery of his own wings. The limbs were segmented like an insect's, yet they ended with clawed hands that, although covered with the same black chitinous scales, resembled his own.
On the creature’s torso, the scales grew larger, spotted with sharp protrusions. They almost reminded Ramose of segmented plates of armor, though he seldom saw armor that doubled as a weapon. Any of the spikes protruding from the plates could be as effective as a rapier’s point.
Even kneeling on the ground, the creature was at least six feet tall, which likely meant its total height was between seven and nine feet, as if its appearance was not intimidating enough.
Its head was round, with hundreds of those small scales, but its face was covered by a veil of some sort. Ramose suspected, based on the thing’s certain arachnid heritage, that the mask it wore was made of silk. It covered its entire visage, making it almost look as if it had no face at all, and the silk fell in thin strands from the top of its head, like hair.
Ramose could scarcely imagine a more horrid-looking creature.
“Rise, matriarch. I require no supplication,” Nephthys ordered.
The creature, the matriarch, stood to its full height, and Ramose nodded, satisfied with his prediction. It was a solid eight feet tall, perhaps slightly more.
“That you accepted my contract means what I offered was worthwhile to you. To that end, I will seek to strengthen you as much as possible,” Nephthys started, a hand on her chin.
“Forgive me, Mother,” the matriarch started. Ramose swore he saw Nephthys’ brow twitch, but he must have imagined it. “I have not been honest with you.”
Ramose tensed, all his willpower resisting his instinctive urge to destroy the creature for even thinking of deceiving his lady.
“Strength, by itself, means little to me, to us. We are weavers, we knit fates together. We weave rumors and stories. It is these that we are interested in. I accepted because being a part of your tale will undoubtedly provide the stories we seek.
“You have our allegiance, Mythmaker,” the matriarch declared, placing one of its six arms across its chest.
“I see. I would prefer your allegiance be to Nemesis, rather than me specifically,” Nephthys said.
“If Mother—” Ramose swore Nephthys’ brow twitched once again. Witnessing the Veil with his own two eyes must have really shaken him up. “—decrees it, so shall it be,” the matriarch said solemnly.
“It is tradition for the summoner to name the summon. Do you have a name that you wish to be addressed by?” Nephthys asked formally.
“I submit myself to the will of the mythmaker,” it replied.
Nephthys sat in silence for several seconds, staring at the creature. Eventually, her hand fell from her chin, and she nodded in satisfaction.
“Very well. You are ‘Moirenea’ henceforth, spymaster and information officer of Nemesis. Welcome,” Nephthys declared formally.
“Welcome!” answered the gathered members of Nemesis, all stomping their feet to accompany the greeting.
The formality of the meeting deteriorated quickly as members approached to congratulate Moirenea, and Ramose sighed. He was the overseer. He had a job to do.
With a quick inhale, he swallowed his unease with Moirenea’s form and approached.
————————————
Nephthys watched the members of Nemesis greet Moirenea with satisfaction. The trip had gone…well, not exactly as she expected, but the result was exactly as she had hoped. She would have to coordinate—
She suddenly stood, turning north and staring a thousand miles into the distance, all thought and situational awareness ceasing.
“My lady? What is—” Ramose started, but Nephthys disappeared before he could finish.
Aka had unsummoned.
Nephthys appeared atop Myra’s mountain in the middle of a blizzard. Snow blew so thick and fiercely in the high-elevation winds that visibility was functionally zero, though it was no burden to her. Idly, her subconscious noted that the snow would not stick this high up, but the thought exited her mind as quickly as it arrived.
She located her target and, with a vrump, appeared next to her. Tara jumped as Nephthys placed a hand on her head, a nearly transparent bubble surrounding her, protecting her from potential threats. Nephthys scanned the chamber, but it appeared to simply be a guest bedroom in Myra’s home.
There were stone tables and chairs, plus a mattress set in an alcove in the wall. It was ascetic, as expected of Myra’s proclivities, but not uncomfortable. Most notably, she did not detect any immediate danger.
“Wow, that was quick,” Tara remarked, examining her hands, which shimmered faintly, the shield Nephthys had placed manifesting almost like the sheen from oil over her skin.
“What happened? Why was Aka unsummoned? Are you in danger?” Nephthys asked, still scanning her surroundings, attempting to deduce the threat before it attacked her.
“What? No, there’s no danger except to my sanity. I’ve been here for days! I haven’t seen you at all! I thought I was going to have to live here forever!
“When I was complaining to Aka about not having a way to contact you to figure out what’s going on, she just…vanished into a puff of smoke,” Tara explained, gesticulating wildly.
Nephthys sighed, removing her hand from Tara’s head and dismissing the shield. With a whoosh of air, Aka came springing out of a portal, prancing over to Nephthys and rubbing against her. Nephthys always forgot how large Aka was. Her shoulder came nearly to Nephthys’ waist.
“Just…save it for an emergency, next time,” Nephthys said, scratching Aka behind the ears as the rumble of her purr vibrated Nephthys all the way from her toes to the top of her head.
She glanced over, feeling eyes on her. Tara stood with her arms crossed before her, staring, clearly waiting for a response.
“Very well. I will check the situation in Gloamview and restore the gate if it has stabilized. I will also look into a better way for us to communicate than Aka unsummoning herself,” Nephthys said, holding her hands up in defeat.
Tara nodded with a small smile, bending down to hug Aka, who approached.
Nephthys ran through the items in Nemesis’ vault, trying to find something useful for this purpose. There were no shortages of long-range communication devices in Prelude, as communication between players was a basic requirement of most MMOs. That said, Nephthys was a guild of one. She had never needed any.
She probably had at least one in the vault. She had one of everything, after all. How did those work again? They must be magic, surely, though the thought of magic items put another idea into her head.
A portal tore itself into existence next to her, and she stepped through it with her hand on her chin once again. Perhaps she would see what Eirene could cook up.
——————————
Lyron lay atop a rickety roof on his back, his eyes closed. He had found a spot atop a building lining the path to Gloamview’s south gate, and he was perfectly positioned behind its ramshackle signage to be hidden from view.
Though a ways from the gate, his hearing was good enough to pick up the muted conversations when he closed his eyes to concentrate.
“We’ll be leaving soon. Go ahead. Do not dally. Ideally, you all should arrive several days before we do. Spread the word: the marquis plans to impose rations on low-level food. The marquis is unable to defend his territory adequately. The marquis is a pawn for Sardvend, who sold out his people for a title.
“It is crucial to have momentum with which to capitalize by the time the rest of us arrive, else we will not make it past the gate. Do not forget what we are fighting for, the future we will create,” a man lectured, presumably, to a group of others.
Lyron heard affirmatives and the rush of several hurried feet as they ran past his building. He grunted with pain, sliding himself closer to the back of the sign, worried his large body would be visible even from its shadow.
So, the new lord was not an idiot. He had some kind of plan that involved more than just marching on the gate. From the sound of things, Lyron had several days of walking to discover what exactly it was.
That would be plenty.
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