On the morning of the ninth day of this relative peace, Randidly received a handwritten note from Mae Myrna. He sat in the renovated kitchen of the farmhouse with light filtering through the wide windows, sipping at the heavily lemoned ice tea which Jotem was now addicted. His fingers traced the curling letters oddly touched by the note, even if he felt uneasy at the message.

Dear Nether King.

I’ve been feeling quite strange lately, after allowing Westrisser to help me tune my image. Powerful, I believe, but some of that seems to be turned inward in an unpredictable manner. I do not believe Westrisser would be purposefully malicious; he seemed to take the bond of pupil and teacher very seriously, showing no deviation in the process or goal even after you and Elhume destroyed a neighborhood. Yet it also strikes me that he is not infallible.

The Patron of Feathers can’t quite put her finger on the source of the deviation, but I suspect its because Westrisser has been teaching me Nether principles to incorporate into my image. There is a dangerous resonance in matching Aether with Nether, even hastily.

I always knew we had encountered each other for a reason; perhaps this difficult is it. I know you possess quite a working understanding of Aether as well. Please, could you spare some time to come to Malloon and investigate the strangeness in my image?

I feel poised above a cliff. It is not in my nature to hesitate long, but the consequences of moving hastily give me pause.

Sincerely,

Mae Myrna

Randidly methodically folded the letter and stored it within an interspatial ring. It served as an obvious call to action. Chewing on his lip thoughtfully, he went to the window. Truth be told, he didn’t want to draw attention to himself yet. Elhume and most of the Patrons remained abroad. Word had spread throughout Malloon and the surrounding areas that Fatia Cerulean had arrived in the city. The ominous truth of this news was that Randidly didn’t sense anything different. Perhaps because of the second Aether powerhouse in the city, Nether King Bleak Sky had also made himself scarce.

Randidly twisted his lips. On the one hand, he worried this was a trap. On the other, all he had to do was look at the skies above Malloon to see the chaotic whirlpool of significance beginning to congregate. Based on the rabid energy discharge from the significance and the tremors running through the memory that no one else seemed ot feel, something was coming. His Nether Core revved in his chest, but it did little to stabilize the memory.

And when he looked at the whirlpool for a long time, he noticed a jerkiness he had only seen once before, in that strange little monologue by the Patron of the Borrowed. Something that hadn’t happened in the real version of events was about to happen, or the memory was trying to correct itself. There was a strain on the memory associated with this, but not as much as Randidly had experienced a few times before.

Randidly licked his lips. “The other possibility… something within the memory is happening too early, due to my interference.”

This theory made the most sense to him. If the Patron of Truth truly stood in the middle of this storm, it was probably Westrisser’s refinement of her image that was the cause. From what Randidly understood, her relationship with Malloon would have irrevocably soured by the Patron of the Deep finding Jotem’s corpse and rushing for vengeance, only to be deeply wounded. The Patrons had all then accompanied Elhume abroad for the events ahead, which seemed to involve sparking a war with the Nether.

Only after that did the Patron of Truth begin developing her strength, eventually becoming one of the main combatants against the still unknown monster of the Second Cohort who needed to be put down with the Hierarchy of Karma. The losses in that fight, combined with the death of the Patron of the Deep in the ritual to create humans, likely broke the bright spirit of the scrappy and reckless Elhume Randidly encountered in the memory.

Piece by piece, he gathered enough context to understand the past. The only question in Randidly’s mind, then was how the Cult of the Savior and the news about Pine affected the whole development.

Randidly took a sip of the lemoned ice tea and grimaced at the sourness; Jotem really possessed a heavy hand with citrus. He then looked again at the maelstrom of Nether floating above Malloon. His eyes shifted to the farm around him. After having a week of concerted effort to pour into it, the harvest was back and better than ever. The farm thrived under his hand, rewarding him for his stable presence.

The vegetables sprouted happily out of the ground. A quaint orchard provided ample apples to fuel the rising demand for cider within his skyislands. The repeated demolishing had even meant Randidly had cleared a long field to the east, where he now grew several varieties of scented florals to create high-quality soaps and creams.

It was an idyllic and peaceful scene. A place of respite.

Sighing, Randidly turned away from the window. The threat of a trap, especially now while Cerulean remained such an unknown, made him hesitate somewhat, but the gathering of significance couldn’t be ignored. None of the individuals in the memory seemed to realize they were within an artificial recreation of the past. So long as that was true, Randidly had access to information with which none could interfere. A trap it might be, but it was an important event that would happen with or without him.

Consider how much time in the Nexus he spent playing catch up, it was something of relief to finally now accrued so many advantages.

So he gathered Acri around his waist like a belt. He strapped on the worn leather armor he had worn for so long it began to evolve into a significant defensive artifact just by virtue of being exposed to his energy and images. Over his usual dress he pulled the black robe with golden embroidery sketching the ghosts of his images. The Hungry Eye for which he had been heralded felt nearly solid on his back, somehow the focal point of the Phaea he received from Demetrius.

Interesting, that small detail, and the sensation of the Phaea developing inside of his body. It seemed some amount of power trickled down from the Nether Herald he supported constantly with his body. If he gave a supporter a 5% boost, maybe a tenth of a percent of that benefit trickled down to become part of a well of power every week. A constant drain on average power, while eventually creating a well to draw on, if necessary. Which meant Randidly should reevaluate the danger of the Nether being at the heart of Wyndaos, which held Phaea from every Nether King in existence.

He washed his face and ran a damp hand through his hair. When he walked outside, the sun felt warm on his skin. What he didn’t expect was Neveah to be waiting for him right outside of the door. Her hands were folded in front of her. Usually, she tended to either to work with the Arakis Beasts or seed the ideas for modern conveniences into the Patron of the Deep’s ears. He tilted his head to the side. “Yes?”

“I wish to start something before we get drawn to deep into… this” She gestured over her shoulder at the maelstrom of significance. Not that they necessarily knew events would spiral out of control as soon as Randidly approached, but certainly there were too many metaphorical barrels of gunpowder waiting in the area around Malloon for the peace to last much longer.

After a few seconds of hesitation, Randidly shook his head. “I still think we are too early to begin thinking about integrating Aether and Nether. Maybe after I see more Nether Kings of the past in action-”

“Not that,” Neveah shook her head. Her eyes were firm. “I want to begin the process of receiving formal Phaea from individuals in the Alpha Cosmos. Not everyone, but en mass. I’m thinking of tying it to enrollment in Kharon Academy, now that it has soundly marked its capability above the other imitation schools that have sprung up on Expira.”

Randidly wondered about the story behind Neveah’s confidence in Kharon Academy, but knew it was likely a distraction for another time. Still, he hesitated. His mind turned over the process and possibilities. “I can see the use, but it would be a weight against me now. We could do a few trial runs to ascertain whether Classes or Levels impact the burden on the body, but too many bodies will affect even me.”

“You forget our greatest advantage,” Neveah chided, her eyes crinkling. “To your credit, I think; you never wish to give to others burden you could bear. But we are not separate entities, just separate manifestations of an allied stubbornness.”

Randidly blinked. “You want to handle the burden of the Phaea and just feed me the power?”

“My body is not so overwhelming as yours, but I’m stronger than anyone else in the modern Nexus,” Neveah justified. She stretched out an arm and splayed out her fingers. “I didn’t notice it at first, but your evolved Stats are beginning to filter across to me. Slowly, they grow, and I think their ends will be different, but my Control recently morphed into Sentinel’s Watchfulness, a Rare Stat. I expect it will continue to climb, with the physical Stats soon to follow. Besides, I don’t fight like you do. The extra weight will just add extra gravitas to me in my day-to-day activities.”

Randidly’s lips quirked up at the attempted humor, but already Nether stirred in his chest in response to her suggestion. After a beat of consideration, he shook his head. “In theory, it’s a good idea. But even if we are Soulbound, that’s not how Nether works. History and connection, significance and faith. Cheating the burden like this will probably lessen the well of power I siphon. If we dodge the price, the benefit won’t bother to show up.”

“Then we split the burden,” Neveah countered. And from the familiarity of the words, Randidly realized this had been her aim the entire time.

He pursed his lips. “You could have just asked for this from the start. But why do you think the Phaea is so important? The power we would gain from them would probably be very slow in coming. Perhaps even so slow it won’t have accumulated enough by the time I finish in the memory and head back to the Nexus proper.”

“Because I don’t think the use of Phaea comes from that power, but from the channel that brings it,” Neveah said. She shrugged her shoulders. “You have been putting out fires for so long, you might not have even recognized when certain areas become abruptly less incendiary. But since you’ve received the Phaea of Demetrius, the subconscious horrors of the Alpha Cosmos haven’t shown any sign of condensing around another of your flaws. The power just pools around that channel. Eventually, it will again become problematic, but not if we create more channels. And we shouldn’t forget that we don’t understand the roles of the different Nether types very well.”

“Phaea might be part of an entirely other sort of scaffolding,” Randidly hummed to himself as he picked up on her point. His Nether Core hummed back in confirmation. This time, he accepted her suggestion.

A few hours before noon, he set off for Malloon to answer the Patron of Truth’s call for help. Meanwhile, Neveah returned to within his Alpha Cosmos, earning a few grumbling shudders from the memory. Deep within his body, more Phaea would be soon given. Although he did not know exactly what lay on the Path, he walked toward becoming a true Nether King.