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Four- no, Apolline- was suspended in silk. It pressed tight on her neck and arms, smooth but threatening to tear her limb from limb. Everything was gray fog.
For the first time in years, she felt her bare skin on air. Her taut legs were straight and un-severed. She was in darkness, but could feel ears resting on the sides of her head, not above. She was whole.
In the darkness, something shifted- someone else tethered by silken threads. Someone else trying to escape.
“Hello? Is anyone else there?” Apolline hadn’t realized how much her voice had changed through the Wolf’s False Root. It was a little low and very languid, like floodwater across well-trod cobbles.
“Ah, shit. Another one.” The masculine voice was tired. “Get comfortable, American.”
“Metran.” Apolline corrected- the Metro States rarely wanted to associate with their patron empire. “Where are we?”
“Fuck if I know. All I know is I’m not dead like I should be.” The threads shifted again. “The freak got you, too?”
“The Vigilant?” She remembered the black and red armor, and the flash of a blade. She remembered that poor fucker trying to staunch the bleeding from her neck.
“Naw, the mushroom controller?”
Apolline sighed. “We’ve fought.” She said. “He did this?”
“Yeah. Freaky cunt calls himself ‘Mr. Mycelium’. However he does it, this place is like his… storage. Keeps us here, then puts us into whichever puppet he wants, making us watch as he uses our Roots or magic or whatnot while he pilots the thing.”
“There are others?” Apolline heard no others around.
“Used to be. At least a dozen, including Peyton and myself. Mycelium musta gotten a fuck-ton of bodies to fill.” A crack of the threads, and the world seemed to fall in on itself. Apolline was upside down, and her back pressed against something. “Oi, still there?” The voice called again.
“What was that?” Apolline wiggled around, finding a somewhat comfortable position.
“This place just… does that, every so often.” His voice was a little closer. “You’ll get used to it. Was afraid you were pulled away from me.”
“Who are you, anyways?” Apolline had to strain her head to speak up (if “up” existed in this place) to the man.
“Bryce Nevin.” The man said. “But you might know me as Monochrome.”
A moment. “Wait, what?” Apolline struggled to turn towards Bryce- for all the good it would do. The fog was completely opaque. “You aren’t the mushroom guy?”
“Naw mate, I’ve been dead- or, whatever the fuck this is- for a couple years now. How’d you get to that idea?”
“I met Bryce Nevin. He was the one who infected me with Mycelium’s control vector. It was what got me killed in the first place.”
“Oh.” A moment passed. Then, a jerk of a thread in Bryce’s direction, followed by the sound of a leg hitting something hollow. “That bastard! He’s still got my body? And he hasn’t even let me use it?”
“I don’t think he’s the charitable type.”
Another frustrated slam, then a sigh. For the briefest moment, the smog around them seemed to condense, turning darker with Bryce’s rage. “Shit.” He finally said. “Still. Why in hell is he pulling out my body…” He trailed off, realization stymying his swearing. “Aw, hell.”
“What?”
“My body’s useless without my Root.” Bryce grumbled. “Except… it might be a key. Our Vigil held wartime artifacts, and, because my Root bleached my features, I used blood for my ID. If the Vigil hasn’t removed that data from the vaults’ security system…”
Mr. Mycelium is already powerful enough with Savari tech from the Cage. Apolline tested her binds. They didn’t budge. “You think he’s here on a heist?”
“Couldn’t think of any other reason to pull out my lanky ass.”
The world shifted. Apolline was yanked down, her arms wrapped behind her back. The fog smeared across her vision as a canvas of gray and white. Bryce was pulled further away, beyond where his quickly retreating voice would reach, and the once-assassin was left to her own catastrophizing thoughts.
“I’ll take over.” Rosa laid a hand on the drooping shoulder of an older man as he kneeled in front of an unconscious Lane.
Canticle’s worn, brown trench coat and the crown of white hair around his bald spot gave him all the appearance of a weary, penitent abbot. From his palm, a dark green, conical protrusion pushed onto Lane’s forehead, its Rooted power coursing through thin, black veins and calming the toxins ravaging her body. His eyes were lined with black bags as he looked back at Rosa. “Sleep, girl.” His voice was sweet, but thick with age. “I can look after her a while longer.”
“Please, you need the rest.” Rosa knelt next to him. Dim light bulbs flickered above the cot, pushing through the dust in the air to alight Lane’s feverish face. She laid her palm over her collarbone. “You’re already faltering.”
Canticle’s lips pursed into a thin line, but he didn’t protest further. His Root disappeared into his palm. “Don’t overdo it.” He spoke as much to himself as to Rosa.
“Goodnight, Canticle.” The man was out of the room quickly.
Incanting, Rosa’s mind was consumed in the monotony of keeping Lane alive. It was a meditative process. A flow of minutes to hours, the same words said in mantra over and over. The guiding runes that molded her magic into a helpful form flickered past her mind, then flowed in a tingling, invisible force through her forearms and into her friend’s chest. The first few minutes were the worst, then her mind fell into a sort of second wind.
It was said that skilled mages could sleep and even dream while casting long spells, that they could willingly enter REM and continue to incant well past their consciousness falling away. Rosa was no skilled mage. She stayed conscious. Her knees hurt and her throat was hoarse.
She didn’t know how long it was before the door opened. An older woman sat beside her, nearly covered entirely in a mask, scrubs, and full-arm gloves, but even in this state Rosa could feel the electrical magic speeding through the veins of Cordelia Reese.
As she had during other sessions, Cordelia didn’t bother to ask Rosa to stop incanting, and launched right into a list of her findings. “Her neurological signs are at a minimum, and her lungs entirely stopped. As usual, the lichen sheet is breathing for her.” She was talking about Four. It was all she and Rosa ever talked about- a subject of interest to the neurosurgeon and intense worry for the younger mage. “I’ve been exploring the temporal cortex for activity. Spontaneous and unusual neural activations- both mundane and magical- have plagued her for the entirety of her condition.”
All of this I know. Rosa poorly hid a scowl. She was trying to concentrate here.
“All of this is to say that what I have discovered- rather, what I have been keeping from you- is exceptional. Remember to stay focused on your spell. Nod when you want to hear it.”
Rosa’s eyes flicked up to the ex-Warden. Deep lines between her wrinkles funneled her focus into Cordelia’s eyes- electric blue and excited. Too excited. Rosa closed her own eyes, focused on a few stable incantations, then nodded.
Cordelia Reese took a deep breath. “Something magically powerful has been buried in Four’s brain stem, running down through her spinal cord. Based on what little I’ve seen during my studies with the Thunderbird, I believe it is a Titanstem.”
Rosa’s breath caught, and her eyes widened. Only Cordelia’s quick jolt of electricity to her elbow made the young mage continue to cast. “Your mind is racing. Focus on the spell.” A moment, and Rosa was back in a rhythm.
Cordelia continued. “Now, I assume you know little of the Titanstems aside from extraordinary tales. These are all overblown- the stems themselves are simply severed threads of magic from a Titan, bound to a proper compound, and which disintegrates once the Titan passes on. They only act to power actual artifacts of the Titans.
“Apart from this effect, Titanstems are useless- they do absolutely nothing at all except look strange and decorate the robes of mages who don’t know better. But, the problem with this one is not what it can do, but which Titan it is from. I’ve been doing tests.” She sighed. “I’ve come to believe it is not from any known Titan.”
What? Elemental Titans, the source of most magic, are only found on Earth. Ones that awaken on other planets are eaten by the Savari Imperium, or kill each other. Only by the grace of the Coalition- those Nightfolk, rebel Savari, and other aliens who oppose the Imperium- has Earth been able to keep its Titans mostly intact. Yet, the existence of a new Titanstem… She risked breaking her spell to speak. “A new Titan is awakening?”
Cordelia shrugged. “I only know the facts.” She sighed. “If it is, our world is going to change- and I doubt it will be for the better.” She stood. “Rosa, focus on getting yourself and Lane up to fighting shape. You two are mages unaffiliated with any Titan, and should be able to approach the newly awakening one without falling to its influence. I have little doubt that its location is hidden in Four’s memories- what snippets I’ve seen, she’s led an… interesting life up until her service to the Arbiter Wolf.” A moment of hesitation, rare for the stoic old woman. “You must be the one to find this new Titan. Safeguard it from everyone. Myself, your family, the Vigils. Everyone. Understand?”
Rosa frowned, but nodded. Cordelia was hiding something- some other hints she’d gleaned from Four’s cordoned-off mind- but even giving her this information meant that she placed a great deal of trust in her.
Her father lurked in the back of her mind. An imperious old bastard, whose back was straightest when his boot was on someone’s neck. “Capture it. Imagine our power- an infant Titan, a source of new magic, molded to our purpose. We would take anything we wished. The Cities would ours to reshape.” His voice was so clear, but when she tried to picture his face, she only saw the Wolf’s slitted eyes, the mushroom-gill mouth of Mycelium, and the insectoid compound eye of Apocrypha. It sickened and scared her.
Rosa shook her head, focusing once more. The spell fatigue must have been getting to her. The skin around Cordelia’s eyes wrinkled with a frown, and she finally spoke. “I’m betting on you, Rosa.” She finally said, standing. “Don’t make it my greatest mistake.”