“At least they’re loyal!” Mercy pointed out.
Yerin could feel what was happening with these Remnants. In fact, she could feel more than she had ever wanted to.
The two were weaker than they remembered being. Weaker, even, than they would have been if someone other than Yerin had killed them. Her Phoenix Song had stripped them of much of their will and memories, not to mention their madra. They weren’t what they should be.
But Remnants started as echoes of the people they had been in life, and these two had served their respective causes for centuries.
Yushi’s diamond-like Remnant felt the need to out-perform. To be seen. She would put her all into her tasks, and she would either accomplish them or fail after so much effort that she could not be blamed.
The Sage of Calling Storms had left a Remnant dedicated to chaos. It wanted to see things break, change, and move, and was happy to follow orders that fell into those categories.
This was, therefore, the perfect task for them.
They combined their wills easily, with Yerin as an intermediary, filling the half-formed portal with power and pushing against it in complex ways Yerin couldn’t understand.
Half of the scripts around the columns of the doorframe filled with crackling blue-and-yellow light. The swirls of sapphire in the center grew stronger.
“That’s enough,” Yerin called.
There were some problems. First, they were burning themselves out like a candle. Unlike sacred artists, Remnants used up pieces of themselves as they worked. Without a source to replenish their power, like a long time soaking in aura or some other spirits to eat, they would lose anything they used here.
If Yerin thought they’d break open the way on their own, she’d use them up. But it didn’t seem they would manage it, so she kept them in reserve.
She wanted that power herself. What she could use, she would. What she couldn’t, she’d burn in battle.
The Sage’s Remnant tried a little harder, but ultimately snapped off. Yushi’s spirit had stopped as soon as ordered.
“Thought you were burning them for firewood,” the Oracle Sage said.
Yerin stepped up to the door. “Will if I need to, but I think I can warm us just fine myself.”
By sensing the process through the two bound Remnants, Yerin had gotten something of an idea of how it worked. She thought she could force it open.
If she couldn’t, the others would get a turn.
The Sage of a Thousand Eyes stopped her with a gesture. “Lean on your authority,” she advised. “You are the apprentice of Ozmanthus Arelius.”
“You’d contend he wants me to break his door?” Yerin focused her willpower on the portal, taking control of it as though it were a runaway Forger technique.
She pressed her will into it as she had felt her Remnants do, and she did take the Oracle Sage’s advice. Yerin remembered Eithan. Training with him, sparring against him, living alongside him. She recalled him adopting her, and when he called her Yerin Arelius.
She remembered him doing battle in the sky.
“Open!” Yerin commanded.
Unlike when Lindon or the other Sages did it, she didn’t feel the world responding to her orders. She felt silly for having spoken out loud.
But her will did press against something, and that surface cracked like ice in spring. Blue light swirled more clearly inside the door, and the scripts filled almost all the way. If she pushed just a little harder, she’d reach the other side, she was sure.
She focused her intentions, cycled her madra, and braced her feet. Just one more push…
A hand clapped onto her shoulder. The Sage of a Thousand Eyes. “Perhaps if you weren’t exhausted, dear,” the Sage said. “We have other hands here.”
Yerin released her gathered will and almost staggered under a sudden wave of dizziness. She was exhausted, despite the strength she’d taken from the Sage and the Herald. In a way, she felt more substantial than ever. In another way, she was about to pitch onto her face.
Not in any shape to fight a Dreadgod.
None of them were. Despair started to choke her. What if they did get the portal open? When they showed up, they would just be more people Lindon had to save.
The Sage had never released her, and now she gave Yerin’s shoulder a squeeze. “It’s not over yet. Mercy, why don’t you give it a try?”
Yerin expected Mercy to get flustered and ask “Me?” before squaring her shoulders and giving it a shot. Instead, Mercy strode smoothly over to the entrance. She looked the portal up and down and focused her will.
To her surprise, Yerin felt the pressure coming off Mercy. It was as though this were Malice about to give a command, not her daughter.
“Allow us through,” Mercy ordered. Like Yerin’s, Mercy’s command didn’t resonate like a Sage’s would have. But it pressured the gateway nonetheless. Yerin sensed the authority of the Ashwind queen’s heir.
The script on the pillars filled up all the way, but the blue swirls in the center were still a chaotic mess. Mercy turned from the doorway as though she’d taken her own success as a matter of course.
Ziel moved forward. “I guess I’ll be the last one.”
“No,” the Oracle Sage said, “it’s best for you to stand aside. You’re newly awakened to the Shield Icon, aren’t you? The Shield has no inherent connection to spatial authority. As you gain more experience, you can stretch your Icon further, but for now…why not leave it to me, all right?”
Ziel’s shoulders slumped as he shuffled away.
The Sage of a Thousand Eyes raised her hand. Globes of light formed, shaping themselves into eyes, and focused on the portal. She Forged them for twenty full seconds, well after Yerin thought she would stop, but an intangible pressure grew as each eye was added.
Only when they spread into a net, like a round array gathered in front of the Sage, did Yerin realize what this was. It was some kind of amplifier for the Sage’s authority.
“Peace,” the Oracle Sage commanded.
The light in both scripted pillars stopped flickering with the chaos of lightning and became smooth. The twisting field of blue in the center smoothed out and deepened. Now, instead of a swirling mess of light, it was a tunnel into deep and endless blue.
The Sage let out a breath as though that working had taken something from her, but Yerin held on to the sight. This was the first time she’d been able to fully appreciate the skill that had gone into a Sage’s command.
Thousand Eyes used her authority as deftly as Yerin’s master had used his sword.
“We’ll have to wait until the transfer stabilizes,” Cladia told them. “Only a few minutes now. Get what rest you can.” Then she turned to Yerin and smiled. “Did you see something new today?”
“Why haven’t you advanced to Monarch?” Yerin asked.
Cladia nodded and pulled a stool out of a void space, then settled into it. “In terms of skill as a Sage, I have little left to learn. My authority has reached its limit, so long as I don’t advance, ascend, or bond with a new Icon. Therefore, I was tempted. With House Arelius in the situation it was…”
The Oracle Sage sighed. “If I could have advanced in the first few years after Tiberian’s death, I’m sure I would have. But most of my body was destroyed. By the time my spirit was stable enough to consider a Herald’s advancement, Reigan Shen was no longer a threat to us.” She nodded to Yerin. “Thanks to Eithan. And you.”
Yerin gripped her sword. “Advance now, and you can pay back the favor.”
“It’s not as easy as you make it sound. Akura Fury had been a Herald for so long that it took him years of preparation to put himself on the verge of advancement. For someone like me, it would take time, and there’s always the chance of failure.”
Cladia swept her hand down her elegant sacred artist’s robes as though presenting her own appearance. “The longer you stay on one course, the harder it is to change. At this point, it’s close to impossible for me to become a Monarch.”