It was within a vast, circular chamber that Nialla Tallvar, appointed civil servant and disgraced former ascendant, patiently saw to her daughter’s general wellbeing.

  A grand rotunda, with its polished marble floors, soaring glass dome, and floor to ceiling windows. Windows which let in the cool morning air and helped flood the chamber with natural light. A bright and airy space, floor polished to a mirror shine, it stood in stark contrast to the average void dweller’s sensibilities.

  An inborn photophobia that was difficult, some might even say impossible, to unlearn.

  As if to remedy this, if only partially, the walls, tastefully accented with flourishes of gold inlay, were sparsely layered with splashes of disturbing imagery. Twisted, unsightly, many eyed things of writhing tentacles and unknowable faces. Horrors pulled directly from the deepest, darkest abyss. Eldritch creatures whose mere facsimiles eluded the comprehension of mortal minds. It was all very purposeful.

  The bright and open chamber had been a statement. A petty act of rebellion. Demonstration and declaration both, that she would not be made a slave to her baser instincts. That she could rise above the many bottlenecks and fixations that had kept her people in the dark for so long.

  And the disturbing depictions…?

  Well, they were merely a reminder of home. Just because she was above such things, didn’t mean she couldn’t revisit from time to time.

  Currently, Nialla waded, hip deep, in a still pool of liquid spirit. Located at the very center of the rotunda, the glistening silver pool acted as stabilizing and rejuvenating agent both, helping her to maintain razor sharp focus, even as she went about her painstakingly detailed work.

  Before her, lying flat on her back, bobbed a small, comatose body. A young, female Cthulle, which resembled her own pale, alabaster complexion to an almost uncanny degree.

  A genetic abnormality. A novelty, and nothing more. A unique, though otherwise inconsequential sub-race she herself had been born with many centuries past.

  An inconsequential abnormality she’d nevertheless gone to great lengths to replicate. Birthing thousands of subpar offspring just in the hopes of stumbling onto one like her. It was a minor thing, really. Even she was doubtful it would make that great of a difference, all things told.

  And yet the alignment of both gender and race should aid in making that final transition all the more seamless. If only infinitesimally. Yet when the preservation of her true soul could very well depend on that scant percent of a percent, ignoring it wasn’t a risk she was willing to take.

  Not when the solution was so readily available.

  From across the chamber there came a light knocking at the door, jarring her from her rapt concentration. Rather than annoying her, however, she took the interruption as an opportunity to stretch her legs. Rising from the pool on threads of spiritual energy, she quickly tied off the ends of her working before she could lose any of her progress to entropy.

  Pulsing out the feeling of acceptance with her aura, she gave permission for one of her brood to enter. In the next second, one of the eldest was hovering over the threshold. An almost painfully orthodox representation of their race, she noted idly. Imposing, statuesque, and as pitch black as the void that had spawned them. It’s haunting, abyssal visage only briefly marred by the long strip of scar tissue where an eye should’ve been.

  “MOTHER,” the child garbled, having yet to claim dominion over his curse of myriad tongues.

  “For what reason do you disturb my work? And why should I not punish you for your presumption?”

  “MANY APOLOGIES. IN REPENTANCE FOR MY FOLLY, I WAS TOLD TO WATCH, WAIT, AND, IF THE NEED AROSE, INFORM SHOULD THERE BE ANY NEW DEVELOPMENTS PERTAINING TO THE BOY.”

  Ah. She had said something along those lines, hadn’t she?

  “Speak then.”

  “THE LONG FUED COMES TO A CLOSE. MANY OF THE TRUE SOUL INHABITANTS HAVE BEN LOST OR CONSUMED. THE REALM ENCROACHES UPON FINAL INSTABILITY. WE, YOUR CHILDREN, BELIEVE THAT NOW IS THE TIME TO ACT.”

  Already? Nialla paused, pulsing her spiritual senses outward. Myriad threads of spirit, bolstered with intent and spiritual aura, spun into being. Spreading outward to probe at the internal structure of her artificial domain.

  As her brood had suggested, there did appear to be a great deal more give to the astral realm than when last she’d checked. Frowning, she attempted to regress the slow but steady degradation, though it was ultimately to no avail. Too much time had passed. Too much instability.

  Curious. Had it really been so long since she’d last seen the boy?

  She must’ve lost track of time. Too absorbed in grafting the relevant architecture, she supposed. It was rather arduous work, after all. At her level of advancement, even crippled as she now was, it took much to fully occupy her attentions for long.

  The process she now used on her daughter’s soul shell, very similar to what she’d done in creating the inflated anima they now resided in. Albeit far more delicate and refined in its execution. Seeing as this was meant to be a more permanent application, that was only to be expected.

  “I recognize the truth in your words. As well as the value of the news you bring. Nevertheless, my work still takes precedence. It will be some time yet before I feel comfortable confronting the Fen’Reale in earnest.”

  She’d only really have one shot at this after all. The child before her frowned, looked as if he wanted to say something, then held his tongue.

  “MIGHT I PROPOSE AN ALTERNATIVE SOLUTION THEN, MOTHER?”

  “Go on.”

  “WE, YOUR CHILDREN, WILL CONFRONT THIS UPSTART IN YOUR STEAD. CONTAIN HIM, SO THAT MOTHER MIGHT USE AND DISCARD HIM AT HER LEISURE.”

  Nialla thought about it for a moment, but then, she didn’t see why not.

  “So long as you be sure to take a care with his soul, and that includes his soul shell mind you, I do not see why you can’t at least try.”

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  “WE WILL DO MORE THAN SIMPLY TRY, MOTHER.”

  Nialla wasn’t so sure. But, recognizing the fire that blazed in his lone eye, really, who was she to deny him?

  “Very well.”

  And with that, she dismissed her wayward offspring from her mind.

  Stepping back into the pool, she flexed her mental feelers—readying herself to pick up where she’d left off. She barely noticed as her spawn exited the room, gently closing the door behind him with a click. All of her focus fixated upon the shell containing her daughter's true soul. The shell that was, even now, revolving around another.

  Two slowly orbiting planets. One bright and vivid. The other hazy and ghost-like.

  There, and yet, at the same time not. Completely intangible. Beyond her reach, despite all her desperate probing. And indeed, the only way she’d garner access to that tantalizing phantom whatsoever, was through a sufficiently resonant karmic link. Something like a lifelong soul oath would do just swimmingly, for instance.

  She’d merely need to oust and supplant her daughter’s true soul to get at it.

  ***

  The lord commander raises her voice to the angelic choir. Adding her own harmony to the rapturous chorus of hymns. Calling upon the great divine through her prayer, devotion, and uniquely resonant tones.

  Invoking she who stands above all others—the infinite, the merciful, the grand almighty. That she might set aside her many burdens, if only for this instant. Smite those that would seek to so brazenly oppose her children.

  From their long-held position atop the very cradle of heaven, the angelic host soars, chants, glows with a divine luster. Painting the clouds with the golden radiance of their unwavering devotion. And as if in answer to their call, the sky above the wretched enemy camp is swiftly torn asunder, clouds parting to reveal the barest glimmer of divinity.

  The steady beat of her wings easily holding her aloft, the lord commander looks down from her elevated vantage. Looks on as the earthly pests begin to panic and scatter. As great arcs of divinity race through the cloud cover—filling the air with ominous rumblings and thunderous cracks. As the skin of this astral plane was pulled apart, revealing a golden eye that spans nearly half a kilometer.

  It’s visage utterly drenched in the profound weight of the celestial.

  So, not the divine herself then, but a mere servant—if of a far higher tier than they. No matter. It would serve just as well, she reasoned. And honestly, in retrospect it had been foolish of her to expect some direct intervention. Nevertheless, as the human generals readied themselves to meet her judgment by proxy, as the angelic host fell silent in rapt attention, the lord commander found herself smirking in satisfaction.

  Let’s see them rebuff her this time, stubborn apes.

  ***

  As the eye in the sky opens wide, and a massive pillar of holy fire rapidly descends, the azure queen and her thousand strong knightly coterie finally complete their grand casting.

  In an instant, a shimmering dome of conflicting energies spring into being, spanning the whole of the allied forces. Shielding those that might have otherwise been caught in the radius of the descending golden pillar, though it did little for the invisible holy pressure that brought a great many to their knees.

  Dozens upon dozens of defensive abilities layered atop one another, it was a chaotic hodgepodge of demonic attunements—adeptly worked soul fire acting as spiritual cohesive. A glowing, sparking, swirling array—the merging of fire, ice, lightning, earth, air and so much more.

  There came a brilliant flash—a concussive bang followed by thunderous roar. An unholy cacophony that rattled their bones and buffeted their minds, as unstoppable force met immovable object. Converging in a truly terrible display. Joint cooperation barely holding together in the face of a wrathful, holy retribution.

  Earth shook. Air trembled. Temperatures spiked.

  The glare from the two conflicting forces enough to blind, the heat bleeding from the holy fire enough to seer, and the roar of their collision more than enough to deafen. Atop an earthen rise, beneath the steady stream of golden fire, the coterie’s concerted efforts begin to wane—their collective defenses to accrue small cracks.

  The odd knight dropping as the strain became too much, their contributions to the dome winking out just as abruptly as their consciousness did.

  And then, almost anticlimactically, the torrential downpour, the golden cascade of sustained fire, came to a close. The pillar of flame flickering, fading, dispersing into holy light. The eye in the sky beginning to recede, sink back into the cloud cover. Back through the gaping rift from whence it came. In the very next instant, the protective dome collapsed, dispersing into the soul energies from which they’d been formed, while the knights who had cast them slumped in obvious relief.

  “Captain!” the Queen called between ragged breaths.

  A tall, statuesque woman, dressed in meticulously maintained armor plate, briskly approached. And, upon first inspection, she ultimately appeared no worse for the wear. Her gait steady and even, this despite that ridiculous soul fire expenditure.

  The Queen, however, instinctually knew better, had known her since girlhood, more than long enough to recognize the woman’s many tells. And though she liked to hide it, like many of those present—the elite of her elite guard and not a B ranked holder among them—the woman, her oldest friend, was utterly exhausted.

  “Yes, your majesty?” barked her captain, snapping neatly to attention.

  “Send word to the mage auxiliary. Recommence the bombardment immediately. Allow not even a second for them to catch their breath. That last attack should have cost them dearly, if all things were equal. In the event it somehow did the exact opposite, I want them too pinned down to properly capitalize. We occupy them from afar as best we can until our stores recharge. They’ll want to close with us after that last attack. I don’t know about you, captain, but personally, I do not relish the idea of entering into a close quarter’s melee. Especially not in the condition we’re in.”

  “To be candid, your majesty?”

  “Always, Hildie.”

  “Nor would I. It will be done immediately your majesty.”

  And with another crisp solute, her old friend was off, already barking orders and receiving runners from the front. Captain of her royal guard and lord commander of her grand army, she left Hildie to her responsibilities—unjustly manifold as they likely were—thoroughly confident in the woman’s capabilities.

  Not yet ready to don the weight of her own myriad duties, however, the Queen instead surveyed the expanse of grassland that stretched out before her. The roar of battle reaching her ears like the distant shores of a volatile sea. Shifting in and out of focus, even as the battle clearly raged before her.

  Stretching from one end of the horizon to the other, it was a shifting mess of flashing mail and monstrous bodies, the shifting tides of battle incomprehensible to her untrained eyes. A desperate struggle had on an inconceivable scale. One where she nevertheless recognized they were severely outnumbered, nearly fifty to one.

  In fact, if it weren’t for that damnable girl and her outlandish familiar, freeing up much-needed troops from the other fronts, it was likely they’d have simply been overrun by now. Yet another tally in favor of her decision. To relegate the girl to the less important fronts of this crusade.

  That it kept her from the truly pivotal conflicts, away from all the politicking, her erstwhile rivals, and, most importantly, the spotlight, was only of tertiary benefit, if anything. She’d claimed she had no ambitions for the throne, of course, her truth-sayer had confirmed as much, but you could really never be too careful. From the very beginning, it’d been the angelic front that held the greatest known risk. The greatest risk, and, by far, the greatest reward.

  Intelligent, fearsome, and expansionist in nature, they were the reason she’d marched ninety percent of the queendom’s elite to the foot of their golden citadel. Something she couldn’t have done without the public support the girl’s outstanding, almost unbelievable career had garnered. Yet another tick in favor of keeping that girl and her uncanny public image far away.

  After all, even if she personally had no intentions of supplanting her rule, it didn’t mean she couldn’t be used against her by others. Or worse, fully suborn the love of the people through over exaggerated deed and spectacle, and so become a naked blade ever poised above her neck.

  A nuisance like that could never be allowed to happen. No, she reaffirmed herself, that simply would not do. In the Queen’s mind, it was simpler for everyone this way.

  Better for the Queendom as a whole that the girl stay far, far away.