Thera 1.12

“Hey Luna, come on!” a voice said.

The girl looked up from her seat at her three friends, waiting at the classroom’s doorway. Miles, Olivia, and Julia. They waved her on, and she got to her feet. It was recess, so they were heading for the cafeteria.

“I’m coming!” she called out, hurriedly packing her things as she rushed for the doorway. But she halted as she nearly bumped into a group of boys. “I’m sorry—”

And she paused. The group of boys looked her way, and the lead boy waved a hand casually. “It’s fine. Are you alright?”

Luna shifted her feet uncomfortably. The boy tilted his head, but she didn’t look at him. Instead, she stared at a white-haired boy towards the back of the group. Someone she recognized. Her mouth opened, but she didn’t say his name.

Marcus. He was there. And he didn’t look at her. In fact, he made it a point to pretend she wasn’t there by looking into his bag. Luna pursed her lips and started past the group.

“I’m fine,” she said as she nodded at the lead boy. “Thank you for asking.”

Her eyes darted to Marcus as she walked by him. He didn’t raise his head.

They didn’t speak. Not anymore. It wasn’t as though anything happened between them. For the first few months they’d known each other, they’d spoken on a daily basis. At one point, they’d been best friends. But now? Nearly a year later? They just drifted apart.

Neither boy nor girl exchanged a word. They passed each other silently. Luna reached her new group of friends. Miles, Julia, and Olivia faced her curiously.

“Is something wrong?” Miles asked.

She glanced back at Marcus one last time. “Nope,” she said. “Nothing is wrong.”

“Then let’s get going already!” Julia urged her forward.

Olivia nodded in agreement. Luna smiled at them, following the three as they made their way to the cafeteria. But, inside, the girl’s heart ached.

Mother was right, she thought as she caught a glimpse of her reflection at a classroom window. She was older now. Taller. Her blonde hair draped down to her lower back, and she’d swapped uniforms a while ago.

All these changes happened so naturally, it was like she barely even noticed it. Just like with how she drifted away from Marcus. There was no inciting event. No memorable falling out. All that happened was… the natural passage of time.

Luna closed her eyes and sighed. Time really is a terrible thing.

* * *

“I am dying, Thera,” Mors said. “I have been dying for the whole time you’ve known me.”

And Thera’s eyes went round. “What…?”

The baby Mystic Turtle didn’t understand it. Her mind reeled as the words latched onto her heart. The meaning itself was crystal, yet it was tinted so dark she couldn’t parse it.

Mors realized this. It brought a fin out and stroked her head. “I won’t be around anymore, Thera. I’m not going to be leaving the Ruins of Brunnholl’s Fleet with you.”

An unfamiliar feeling bubbled in Thera’s core— her chest hurting just from the words alone. Which made no sense to her. Words shouldn’t hurt. Magic, weapons, and monsters did. Her vision blurred as she choked.

“But why?” she asked in a small voice. Then she clenched her jaw, suppressing the hurting and replacing it with anger. Again, Mors had lied to her. “You said we were going to leave this place together!”

The Luminant Lophis closed its eyes. It hugged Thera as her breathing heightened. The sudden gesture made her pause.

“I’m sorry,” Mors said. “I’m sorry for lying to you again. But I couldn’t tell you the truth. You are still so young, Thera. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Her anger simmered. The tempest in her heart calmed enough for her to gather her thoughts. Mouth trembling, voice pained, she repeated her question.

“...why?”

Mors drew back, looking at her with melancholy in its eyes. “I have been alive for so long, Thera. Alone. In this Dungeon. My whole life. The Ruins of Brunnholl’s Fleet is my home. It is all I have ever known, and all I will ever know. It is my birthplace; it will be my final resting place.”

Thera watched as the Luminant Lophis drew back. It swam between the broken bookshelves, fins gently brushing by the floating books. She followed as it spoke in a soft voice, its light flickering in memory.

“I never knew my mother nor my father. They were long dead before I was even born. Neither did I know my siblings. They were killed before they ever got a chance to hatch. I only knew what I’ve read from these books. I named myself after Mors Brunnholl, admiral of Brunnholl’s Fleet. I read of his accomplishments— of what he’d done above the sea— and I could only dream of a life like his. Yet, years passed. Decades. Maybe even a century. All that time spent trapped here, never living my dream. So I wish, more than anything, that I could keep my promise to you.”

“Then let’s go, Mors. Together.” Thera insisted as the fish came to a halt before its little hovel. “Let’s leave this place.”

Mors shook its head. “I cannot. I am dying, Thera.”

She remembered her brothers and sisters, dying one by one at the beach. A single desire burned within her— for such a thing to never happen again.

“We can stop it,” she said, determined.

“You cannot, Thera. Neither of us can.”

“But why are you dying? What’s killing you? Are the Phleglings doing this? Is it the Dungeon? Do you need air? Water? What is it, Mors?” Thera asked, getting frustrated.

The Luminant Lophis closed its eyes. The light vanished for a brief moment. The room fell dark— only the weak light emanating from the ritual circle was visible.

“Time, Thera,” it said in a low voice. “That is what’s killing me.”

She blinked. “What?”

The answer confused the baby Mystic Turtle. Thera just looked at the fish, puzzled. The ship shook once more— the rumblings from earlier still present. Mors tilted its head, glancing at the trembling books and bookshelves. It sighed.

“Time is killing me,” it repeated itself. “Nature is a cruel mistress. For a creature like me, time will always run its course. Perhaps, for one such as you, time is not an enemy, but an ally. You cannot do anything to save me. The ultimate destiny for one such as I is that: death.”

Thera’s head spun. She slowly sank to the ground as she placed her flippers on her head, taking it all in. Mors spread her fins wide.

“Just as my brothers and sisters before me, just as my mother and father who gave birth to me, I will perish. I am the last Luminant Lophis left, Thera.”

The baby Mystic Turtle raised her head. She wanted to protest. Her mouth hung open, yet no words came out. These concepts were too complex for her. She had no argument against it— no way to even properly voice her discontent with the outcome.

Mors looked past her and continued.

“But I don’t have to be.”

She paused. Thera followed the fish’s gaze, looking at an object laid on the ground. A piece of parchment. A glinting paper. The Treasure of Brunnholl’s Fleet. The Scroll of Nativity.

The Luminant Lophis swam up to the ritual circle, smiling. “All this you see before you was made for one reason only. I am a female Luminant Lophis. I cannot have children on my own. Not without a male partner. But with this?”

Thera cast her gaze over the sheening symbols. The powerful magic radiating from the nearly-finished ritual.

“I shall be able to lay a dozen eggs, and my children will live on.”

For some reason, Mors said it as though it would reassure Thera. The Vanima Testudine looked at the fish. At it— no, her. And Thera spoke the obvious.

“But you’ll still be dead.”

For a moment, Mors remained silent. She held the baby Mystic Turtle’s gaze, refusing to break away. Her light flickered back into existence, still dim, but illuminating the room once more. She drifted closer to Thera and pressed a fin on the turtle’s chest.

“I will live on,” Mors said, eyes still locked with Thera’s. “In your memories.”

The Vanima Testudine looked down at herself. She placed a flipper on the fish’s fin, and slowly considered this. “In my memories?”

“Yes.”

“So you won’t actually be dead?” Thera asked softly.

Mors nodded with a smile. “As long as you never forget me, I will never die.”

The baby Mystic Turtle looked down at her flippers. Resolving herself, she raised her head. “Then I will never forget— never ever, ever, ever forget you. No matter what happens, I’ll keep you in my memory, Mors.”

A tremor struck the ship again as Thera made her declaration. The shaking stopped soon enough, and the Luminant Lophis nodded.

“I am glad,” Mors said and slowly spun around. She swam for the doorway and ushered Thera forward. “Come, let us deal with these Colossus Phleglings. Their attempts to break into the ship are getting annoying.”

“But didn’t you say you have to finish the ritual now?” Thera stared at the fish, puzzled.

Mors shook her head. “I was wrong. Again, I have lied to you. We still have some time left to create more memories,” she said and laughed. “So let us do just that.”

* * *

Thera never noticed how old Mors had been getting all this while. In retrospect, it was quite obvious. Even now, as the baby Mystic Turtle watched from afar, she could see clear signs of aging in the movements of the Luminant Lophis compared to just a week ago.

Mors darted between the Colossus Phleglings, drawing their attention as Thera swam to the remains of a broken ship hundreds of feet away. Raising her flippers, the Vanima Testudine unleashed the magic within her core.

“[Essence Explosion]!”

A blast of golden light rocked the broken ship. It sent bits of debris and rock in all directions, attracting the Colossus Phleglings near Mors. The baby Mystic Turtle escaped into a sea of bubbles as the massive monsters assaulted nothing but floating wood.

Unfortunately, Thera still wasn’t strong enough to stand up against the Colossus Phleglings. Her [Essence Explosion] would’ve barely harmed them. But this method ensured that they would be distracted for the next few days, at the earliest. Both Mors and Thera escaped back into the safety of the still-standing ship, laughing together at the stupidity of the monsters.

But the joy of the moment vanished as Mors’ laughter morphed into a coughing fit. She panted, leaning against the wooden walls as Thera looked over the Luminant Lophis worriedly.

“Are you alright, Mors?”

“I’m fine,” the fish reassured her, still breathing heavily. However, despite her clear exhaustion, Mors still tried to pretend like nothing was wrong. “Honestly, that was risky of you, swimming so far out. But somehow you made it work out as you always do.”

Thera beamed at the praise. Even still, she saw through the facade. She knew Mors was hurting with every move— tired from the overexertion.

* * *

“But didn’t you say cities only existed on land?” Thera blinked as Mors read from the page.

“Most cities exist on land, Thera,” Mors explained with a raised fin. “However, some do exist in the ocean. Of course, they live in shallower waters. There have been no records of any cities existing in the deep ocean.”

The baby Mystic Turtle quirked her head. “Shallower waters?”

“Amongst coral reefs. Near beaches. Around islands and atop undersea mountains.”

“What kind of people live there?”

“Merfolk, Selkies, Lobsterkin, Marvir, Sirens—” The Luminant Lophis listed some. “There are many different types of creatures living in these undersea cities. All of them are intelligent, like you and I. So you need not be afraid of them as you are of the unintelligent monsters lurking down here.”

“Really?” Thera brightened.

Mors’ light glimmered. “Yes. Perhaps even your brothers and sisters have found a home in these undersea cities.”

The baby Mystic Turtle’s eyes grew wide as she stared at the picture in the book. It depicted a vast, sprawling place. With giant shells protruding from the ground, coral turned into homes, and buildings made from limestone and clay.

“Amazing…” Thera breathed in awe. She turned to Mors excitedly. “I want to visit an undersea city one day!”

“You will,” Mors chuckled, before growing serious. “But remember— always be careful of who or what you trust.”

Groaning, Thera rolled her eyes. “I will…”

* * *

“You can do it, Thera! You’ve practiced these words before!” Mors cheered.

Thera strained her eyes. “The… divine… arts… have… h… h-his…”

* * *

“The divine arts have historically been the easiest school of magic to master. Yet, it comes with its own set of limitations as a result. The power of one’s divine magic will always be tied to the prevalence of the Gods influence over the world. This can be seen during the Waning Millennium where the Gods vanished and were thought to be dead. Faith in their existence reached an all-time low, and because of that, the legendary Spirit Dryads were nearly driven to extinction…”

Mors watched proudly as Thera read the excerpt from the page without any help. Good, the Luminant Lophis thought. You’ve grown so much…

* * *

“Are you sure you don’t need my help? Thera hovered protectively over the Luminant Lophis.

Mors moved slowly through the water— more sluggish than she’d ever been— but waved a fin off. “I’ll be fine. I just need you to cast the spell—” She hacked as the light from her antenna blinked in rapid succession.

“Mors!”

“You can’t be by my side until the ritual is over, Thera. Just do your part, and it’ll be over soon.”

The baby Mystic Turtle frowned. “But what if something happens during the ritual?”

“I’ve made it this far,” Mors laughed, though clearly lacking vigor. “I can survive for a few more minutes.”

“Ok…”

The ritual was finally read. On one of the spell circles lay the Scroll of Nativity and Thera, and on the other was Mors. The pair looked at each other, nodding. They emptied out their core into the ritual. Thera filled the Scroll of Nativity with her mana, while Mors seemed to be focusing on the spell circles itself.

The symbols began to glow, one after another. A golden light that lit up the room. Thera watched the radiance brighten slowly as Mors chanted quietly to herself.

“May the New Gods guide me with their light. May the New Gods—”

Thera wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen now. She waited for the ritual to finish, but the symbols etched into the wood shifted— changing. Then a pattern formed, seeming to point towards Thera. She looked down at the Scroll of Nativity as its light flashed… before darkening.

Blinking, the baby Mystic Turtle watched the golden light open up into a deep void. An endless darkness that reached out to her core.

“This is—”

She remembered the depraved thing. The… warning. And panic settled in.

“Mors?” Thera called out. “Is this supposed to be happening?”

But the darkness had spread across the ritual circle. It reached Mors, holding her up in stasis. The Luminant Lophis floated in a black canvas— one that seemed to glimmer with specks of purple and golden light.

“No— Mors!” The baby Mystic Turtle rushed away from the Scroll of Nativity, her part of the ritual already over.

But she struck a barrier. She couldn’t enter the spell circle Mors was trapped in. And the space within rapidly spun. The Luminant Lophis spread her fins wide as if she was accepting the darkness.

Thera watched as Mors seemed to absorb the space itself. It was sucked into her core— even the dark light from the spell circles itself. Then as it all condensed into Mors, the light flashed its brightest.

The baby Mystic Turtle flinched. She recoiled for a moment, before blinking away the residual light in her eyes. She looked up, speaking hesitantly.

“Mors…?” And what she saw was—

“We did it, Thera,” Mors said, lying at the center of the spell circle.

Thera froze. She saw what the Luminant Lophis was holding. It looked like… the vague outline of a gray sac. A net that held oval-shaped objects within.

“That’s…?” Thera drew closer, her panic from earlier replaced by curiosity. But she couldn’t really see it. For some reason, the things that Mors was holding looked transparent.

“This is just the sac,” the fish said as she ran a fin over the surface. “A thin film that is both reflective and refractive. It protects the eggs within, keeping them safe even from the most dangerous underwater predators.”

The Vanima Testudine gently poked the sac. “Then that means these are… your children?” she asked hesitantly.

Mors managed a smile. “Yes.”

For a moment, the fish continued to caress her eggs. Like a mother embracing her baby for the first time. Mors’ eyes closed as her light began to fade in a pulse. A single teardrop ran down her face, and she raised the sac towards Thera.

“Here,” the Luminant Lophis said.

Thera looked up, puzzled. Then she saw the state the fish was in— the way Mors could barely keep her eyes open; the frail movement of her fins. Even the way she lay there made it clear.

And the baby Mystic Turtle knew it was finally time. Her emotions threatened to flare up, but she prepared for this. She was ready for it. She’d accepted it weeks back.

“It will protect you, Thera. If you hide under it, it can camouflage you— hide you until you finally get to the surface.”

The fish handed her eggs over to the baby Mystic Turtle. Thera accepted it with her flippers, calming her breathing. Mors just chuckled weakly.

“At least I have fulfilled one of my promises to you.”

“I…” Thera felt her mouth quiver. She worked her jaw, but her throat was tight. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to reply. “You have done more than enough for me, Mors. Thank you.”

Mors’ light pulsed slower and slower. She didn’t move from where she lay, her eyes fixed only on Thera. “I should be the one thanking you, Thera. Without you, this never would’ve been possible. I have always wanted to have children. And now, I have some. But…”

The Luminant Lophis closed her eyes in a slow blink. When they opened, her eyes were hollow, even as they faced the baby Mystic Turtle.

“Is it selfish of me to say you have been like a daughter to me all this time, Thera?” she asked weakly, light dimming.

“No!” Thera sputtered.

She caught herself from shouting too loudly, before drawing closer to the Luminant Lophis.

“No— I feel the same way, Mors. You were… like a mother to me,” she said as her voice cracked.

Mors’ light shone.“I see. That’s… good…”

Once again, Thera’s vision blurred. She tried to force it back and swallowed. Mors didn’t notice the pained look on Thera’s face. The Luminant Lophis just went limp as her speaking slowed.

“Please… find a home for my other children...” And Mors’ light dimmed again.

“I will,” Thera said vehemently as the light shone once more. “I promise you, Mors.”

Mors’ light dimmed one last time. “Goodbye… Thera....”

Thera waited for any more words. But the light never returned. The baby Mystic Turtle’s eyes went wide as she stared at her mother’s lifeless body. She held the sac in her flippers as she tilted her head hopefully.

“Mors?”

No response. Mors was dead.

A storm brewed within the baby Mystic Turtle. Her emotions were a mess. She thought she had accepted it. After all, she had been given plenty of forewarning. Yet, now, faced with the reality of it, she couldn’t control herself. She didn’t even notice the ship shaking.

“M-Mors…?”

Thera latched onto the dead Luminant Lophis as her vision was smudged with an eclectic of colors. The world was a blur to her— all her previous resolve melted away.

“Why did you leave me, Mors? You promised you would— we would… we would…”

Her feelings leaked into her eyes. Tears streamed down her face. Thera cried. For the first time in the baby Mystic Turtle's life, she cried. And she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. She hugged the body of the one who raised her and lay there with it.

As the ship shook. As the rumbling grew greater. How much time passed? It had to have been at least a day. The shaking continued as the pain in her heart flared up. Her core grew unsteady. A maelstrom raged within her, and the enchanted walls cracked. The floating books lost their magic, their pages smudging from being underwater.

The Grand Library of Brunnholl’s Fleet began to crumble as its magic faded, and Thera’s core was filled. She didn’t look up once until the ship began its collapse around her, sending plumes of dust up eddying in the water.

“I will never forget you, Mors,” she said as she raised her head. Her eyes held no more tears. There wasn’t enough for her to shed for her grieving. “You will always live in my memories.”

Shadows crept around the Vanima Testudine. Colossus Phleglings and their smaller counterparts tore their way through the ship as it fell apart. Thera looked around as her core overflowed with magic that wasn’t hers— wreathed by a purple aura.

One of the double doors of the library fell before her. It read only the first half of a phrase.

Hail to the New Gods—

Thera barely even looked towards it. Instead she swam up, past the falling debris as she clutched the egg sac tightly to her chest. Colossus Phleglings, Juvenile Phleglings, and Pygmy Phleglings moved to intercept her, but her body flashed as she shouted.

“Leave me alone!”

She unleashed her [Essence Explosion]. And a blast of purple energy ripped through the water. Larger than any use of the Skill before. The attack instantly wiped out the Juvenile and Pygmy Phleglings. And, somehow, it knocked even the Colossus Phleglings back. Their skin tore as they were carried back by the explosion, although none of them were killed.

Thera continued swimming up and away from the Ruins of Brunnholl’s Fleet. She looked down only to take one last look at Mors’ body. She saw the debris and wreckage of the ship collapsing onto it, burying the Luminant Lophis. And a single thought cross Thera’ s mind as she looked back towards the egg sac.

“I will keep them safe.”

With that, she wrapped the egg sac over her body and left the Ruins of Brunnholl’s Fleet behind. The last standing ship in the Dungeon finally fell beneath her. And nothing remained but a memory.

* * *

You have left The Ruins of Brunnholl’s Fleet!

Thera swam and swam and swam until the Voice of the World was nothing but an echo in her head. She didn’t know how deep underwater she was, nor did she know how many hours or maybe even days it took her to reach the surface. But nothing attacked her during the entire trip. She avoided all confrontation, heading for only one direction, until she could finally see.

The water turned blue as light leaked down from the sky above. She looked around and could see schools of small fish swimming around and feel the sense of relief wash over her.

“Finally, safety…” she sighed as she swam all the way to the surface.

But as she poked her head out of the water, taking in her first breath of fresh sea air in a year, she learned an unfortunate lesson. She looked up and saw an expansive shadow looming overhead. One that was rapidly encroaching on her.

Dark clouds. Cold winds. Ice falling from above, mixed with lightning. Around her, scattered icebergs gathered as waves were caught mid-air, frozen in place. A tempest of ice rampaged through the sea, killing everything it touched.

A magical frost storm.

“What…?”

Thera’s jaw dropped as she watched the storm approach. She looked down at the egg sac, then at the ice all around her. And she realized that it didn’t matter that she was no longer trapped deep in the ocean floor. Keeping her promise was going to be harder than she thought. She hadn’t reached safety just yet. After all, she was still in the middle of the ocean.

And the ocean was a dangerous place.

End of Arc 1: Time

Author's Notes:

So, this chapter came out for the public at an unfortunate time for me. My grandmother, who was turning 92 this year, passed away just seven hours ago, and I'm still processing this news, so I really don't know what to say. We had a bit of a language barrier, but we were fairly close I'd say, and I'd visit her daily whenever I was back in my home country. I know she lived a long and fulfilled life, however I still can't help but feel bad that I wasn't with her when this happened, especially since I haven't seen her in over a year.

Over the weekend, she got really sick, so we were sort of expecting this to happen, however we thought she'd live for a few weeks more at the least, and I'd been preparing and packing over the last two days to fly back home. For context, I am not a US resident or citizen, but I live in the US currently under a student visa, and since I graduated last year, with how my student visa works, I won't be able to return to the US anytime soon once I leave the country, which is why I need to pack up basically all my belongings as soon as possible to return home for the funeral.

Anyway, I'm not really sure where I'm going with this. For Salvos readers, this means that chapters will be posted a bit later than usual, but for Thera readers-- which most of you here are-- I have all the public chapters already scheduled for this week, so it makes no difference, and you won't really see a disruption to the public schedule.

Now onto the original author's notes before my grandmother passed away: I'm trying something different for Thera compared to my other stories. I'm structuring the story in proper "arcs" as opposed to vague arcs within a book, for the sake of pacing since I generally have pretty bad pacing. This was the end of Arc 1: Time. There will be NO break after this chapter. Arc 2: Cold will start on tomorrow, the 20th of July 2022.

I hope you all enjoyed Arc 1: Time. If you did, consider leaving a rating or review to help me, maybe. It really helps me out a ton!

I will also be experimenting with book titles over the next few days. Thanks for reading