Technomancer: Birth of a Goddess

Emily and her companions spend a few days exploring the strange new city with Rimaro leading the way. They walk through fields of magical and non-magical plants sown together, and stroll through a valley of open tents emanating heat, each one sunken into the earth with furnaces burning away inside and people driving hammers into heated metal, filling the air with a metallic hum that Emily gladly drinks in.

In the evenings, they move freely between gatherings among the tents, drinking spiced alcohol with a group of farmers and tailors on the first day, and eating leaf-wrapped chunks of mana-filled meat on the second amongst a group of children who welcome them with open arms.

It surprises Emily a little when a fragile-looking elderly woman who’s lecturing the children pauses and grabs Rimaro the moment they walk in, forcing him to sit down with her, but the man only smiles as if it were expected and joins in preaching the wonders of their gods to the children.

“If you are very lucky, once you are of age, you may be given a chance to meet one of our great gods,” he tells them, leaning forward conspiratorially and watching his little audience do the same. “And then, if they truly decide to smile upon you, you may even catch a glimpse of The Great One.”

“Have you met The Great One, Mister Wing?” one of the small children whispers to him, glancing nervously at the elder leading the group as if breaking the rules by doing so.

“That I have, young one.”

“What do they look like?” another child asks, speaking with more confidence than the first.

“Well, they’ve been said to take on many forms, so I couldn’t really tell you… but… I guess if you wanted my account, I could perhaps give you an idea…” He drags it out with an exaggerated, conflicted expression, watching the children practically bouncing in their seats as they beg him to continue. “Alright then, you win. I shall tell you of my first meeting with The Great One.”

The children cheer before hushing each other, leaning in to hear the story, and Emily watches on with interest, noticing Rimaro’s gaze flickering to her in hesitation before he continues.

“It was many moons ago, back during my coming-of-age ceremony. After the day’s festivities were done, and with my hunt a success, we gathered under the light of the waning moon with my offerings laid bare to be judged.” He sets the scene, eagerly drawing the children in. “I remember gazing up into the darkness above and feeling ever so small as my village’s elder poured the God’s Tears down my throat… then the darkness swallowed me.”

Several of the smaller kids gasp, reaching out to grab their friends in fear as the closest flame lighting their gathering dims in sync with Rimaro’s story, responding to a whisp of his mana, casting them into shadows.

“I fell. Down through the earth, away from the safety of moonlight and into horrors I can’t recall.” He lifts a hand while talking in a soft, haunted whisper before sparking a flame in his palm. “And there, in the darkness, I finally saw true light.”

The flame burns golden, emanating warmth as it ripples and grows, blooming into feathers that then fold back into its amorphous mass.

“I saw light that smiled upon me.”

The fire crackles, and Emily narrows her eyes, almost certain she can make out the form of a pupil staring back at her from within the golden tongues.

“I felt warmth that welcomed me.”

Solid blades of hard light jut from the churning flames, joining the endlessly reforming feathers shifting across its surface, bearing a striking resemblance to curled fangs.

“I heard their voice in my heart asking for my faith and loyalty in return for the whispers of power they were already freely giving me.”

Emily feels a shiver run down her spine despite the warmth licking her skin, blinking her focus away from the flame that seems to be grinning at her and noticing that none of the children appear bothered.

“I truly don’t think I can do their majesty justice,” Rimaro says with a fanatical smile, clenching his fingers around the image he has conjured and quashing it, letting the nearby brazier return to its usual fervour. “So, you’ll all just have to wait till your own coming-of-ages and see.”

The children explode with excitement, jumping to ask him more questions that he patiently answers with a smile. Emily receives a few queries herself as several of the children take an interest in her mechanical limb, and she happily entertains them while conversing in her mind with Mensacus about possible perception-bending spell forms, still lingering on the unsettling display.

***

On the evening of their third day in Ilysvar, Rimaro receives a message. It comes in the form of a small bubble of wind currents that pops into existence in front of him as they’re browsing a small pop-up market.

“The Council is ready to meet the Speaker,” a soft voice drifts out of the bubble as it unravels, and Rimaro turns to Emily with a grin.

“It would appear the rest of the gods’ limbs have arrived,” he says, unfurling his flaming wings of light to admiring gasps from the people around them. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way.” Emily nods, snapping her fingers and forming magic circles behind herself, Pod, and Silica.

After a moment, they ignite into wings of buzzing plasma, and Emily flaps them to follow after their guide, who inspects the shifting constructs with interest. Virgil lifts himself and his son on a layer of flames, and Mensacus simply tints his mana with metal and pulls on his body, levitating himself after them.

“You have many flight spells. I have yet to see this one,” Rimaro comments, having watched Emily carry herself and her companions with a variety of elements and styles in the past days. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you. After seeing your wings, I just couldn’t help myself.”

“The spell is new?” he blinks in disbelief as she nods. “When did you have the time?”

“Here and there.” She shrugs dismissively. “It’s not particularly refined, and only third circle in complexity at a push. I won’t lie, if I weren’t holding it together, the spell would likely unravel quite quickly; it isn’t yet built for stability. Anyway, your message sharing is far more interesting. How was that one sent? Is it a spell, or an item?”

“A spell. Clan Visori are our best messengers, and that’s one of their favoured methods. They can send their voices on the wind to any other caster blessed by The Scattered One or, in the case of their mouths, anyone they’ve marked before.”

“You can’t respond?”

“No.” Rimaro shakes his head, floating up to catch a gust of wind towards their destination. “Not without the help of a member of clan Visori or one of their Thought Bubblers.”

“Oh?” Emily intones, beating her electric wings to glide at his side.

“They convert a thought into a message bubble that can be sent to the mage who created the Bubbler.” He pulls out what looks to be a shell engraved with glistening green runes, briefly flashing it towards her. “Or, if you catch the end of a message being sent to you with it, it’ll send the next bubble back to the sender.”

“It’s beautiful.”

Rimaro smiles and nods his thanks at her appreciation as he tucks the shell back into the pouch in the small of his back.

“How do you commune with your allies?”

“I use a communicator roughly based on Modo’s magical method,” Emily explains, pulling her small silver tablet from her belt and flicking the screen towards him. “This tablet, and all others my friends and allies have, send and receive signals via a few relays installed in my ship and bases on the other continents. I can either send written messages, or initiate a link to have a spoken conversation with any other tablet by choice.”

“How convenient. Though, can you do nothing if they lose their tablet?”

“That’s true.” She nods, tucking her communicator away as they approach a tent twice the size of the largest communal gathering tents she’s seen, pouring smoke from the delicately woven mesh vents on top.

The structure is supported by arcs of dull grey metal covered in markings, with faintly-magical leather stretched across them, covered in twisted weavings of several hulking creatures that seem to shift across the fabric, dancing with the light of the quivering flames within. Emily feels a sense of recognition as her gaze skips between the amorphous beings depicted on the tent. Burning wings and tentacles spread like roiling waves, but none of them look like anything she’s ever seen before, with more limbs, teeth, and eyes than their shapeless masses should support, while they still retain an odd sense of beauty, as if their monstrous forms were mere façades of something greater.

Blinking her focus away from the images, Emily notices that she can feel the entire tent with her magical senses as much as she can see it, with the entire structure appearing as a solid half-dome without a cavity inside, despite clearly not even being airtight.

What fascinating warding. I could almost certainly tear through the tent from out here, but I can’t sense the inside at all. Are they more concerned about scrying than attacks?

They touch down before the closed front flap, with Mensacus and Silica taking up positions at their mother’s side. Pod shadows Emily closely, and Dante does the same to his father, who lands beside Silica.

Rimaro raises a hand to rest on the tent and looks back for permission before sweeping the fabric aside and ushering them in.

Stepping in after him, Emily can feel herself being separated from the outside world, with her senses immediately being confined to the limits of the fabric shrouding them from the setting sun. Her gaze is drawn to a large burning pyre in the centre of the space, surrounded by nineteen fourth circle mages bowing to it with respect, none of them even sparing the open tent flap a glance. They’re all wearing matching leathers in various shades: with five others in the same colourings as Rimaro; four in those of clans Chisori and Hisori; and three each representing Lisori and Visori.

Without a word, Rimaro gestures for them to follow him towards the flames. There are several cushions set out in a gap between a few of the bowing mages, with four of them in line with those already present, and the other three just behind them, outside the inner circle.

Rimaro takes one of the front cushions, dropping to place his knees against it before dipping forward to lay his palms and forehead against the ground. Emily, Mensacus, and Virgil take the positions beside him, politely copying his form, while Silica ends up half-splayed across the cushion, resting her chin on the ground and staring at her mother lit by the fire.

The moment they settle into place, the Lebard mages begin chanting.

“Buried, burned, drowned, and scattered; the unbound gods led by the great in all matters.”

The air around them grows heavy, and Emily can feel several dense presences that she can’t identify invading the space unseen, making her instincts roar into overdrive as the sense of something watching her creeps up the back of her neck, and her extended magical senses are forcibly reduced to only just cover her companions. She resists the urge to break contact with the ground, urging them to do the same through Mensacus’ still-connected link as she notes how similar the encroaching unknown feels to The Abyss’ Watcher, with one of the blended signatures feeling similar to Rimaro’s. 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

“Bless our meeting with fair crossings of fate; and watch over the proceedings to keep all parties straight.”

The foreign presences in the tent snake around Emily’s throat, and she can feel a vibration against her magic as something asks for her acceptance of the agreement. Swallowing her mistrust, Emily gives her assent and feels a burning brand settle into place on her mana. With it comes both an instant understanding and boundless curiosity.

The brand itself whispers to her mana, assuring her of its purpose as nothing more than confirming the truthfulness of her words and her lack of malicious intent. However, though the energy forming it feels somewhat similar to Rimaro’s, it’s a layer denser, with echoes of something she can’t quite grasp entwined to give it an odd, otherworldly feeling. Several of her cores immediately set to analysing the strange energy that feels ever so different from mana yet almost exactly the same, like two waves a half step out of phase, yet balanced in the vessel carrying them.

The Gods’ Council repeat their chant twice more before Emily’s focus is split from her new interest by a burst of mana. The pyre in the centre of the room blooms as silence falls, and everyone rises to watch a fractal of light burn its existence into their retina, carving faint glimpses of a watching monster into their minds.

Emily feels her spatial sense quiver for a fleeting moment as an understanding of something settles at the edge of her senses, and she feels fire ready to dance from her tongue; then the fractal never existed, and the tension filling the room is shattered by peals of laughter and applause.

A blurred image of a rippling beast birthed from light and fire remains, but the odd feeling vanishes, taking her understanding with it.

“Your arrival is blessed by The Great One themselves,” declares the woman kneeling opposite Emily, half concealed by the raging flames that only allow fleeting glimpses of her hardened, olive-toned skin, traced with runic tattoos that are distorted by scars and faint lines of age. “This is an auspicious omen. I am Sala, head of clan Salsori, The First Wing of The Great One, and the whole Council stands before you. Please, Speaker, give us your name and a title by which to address you.”

Emily stares across the fire into Sala’s deep golden eyes, burning brighter than a shattered light crystal, her only feature still clear through the flames.

“Emily Coldstone,” she replies readily, letting cold sparks of machina skip down her left arm as tendrils of warm lightning mana trace her right. “Technomancer and free mercenary.”