Die. Respawn. Repeat.
Chapter 262: Book 4: True To Form

"What do you mean, impossible?" I ask.

"A phase collapse is a traumatic thing," the Knight explains. "Without someone else to support your soul, it cannot be survived. You can use your soul to hold up his own, but that places you both in peril; it will mean your survival is contingent on his own. But for a soul to find a new Truth after it is already set in stone... It has never been done.

"More accurately, perhaps, it cannot be done. It is a fundamental weakness of this entire system of power developed by the Scions—as much power as Firmament gifts its practitioners, it is inflexible in a way that Authority and Talent is not. Once a core has been bound, it cannot be changed."

"You seem very certain about that," I say. "And you know more than you've been saying about the Scions, don't you?"

The Knight is silent for a moment. "I had a partner, once," it says quietly. "You must understand my reticence. But I am as certain as could be. The odds of your friend being able to find and solidify a new Truth before his core collapses, even with you helping him, are miniscule."

"But not zero." I raise an eyebrow.

"It is close enough to it."

"Gheraa's risked his life for me once already," I say. "Not just that, he died. It's the whole reason he's in this situation to begin with. If there's any chance at all I can help him, I'm going to take it."

"Ethan—" Gheraa tries, reaching up as if to stop me. I shake my head, then reach past him to slip my hand into that jagged wound on his chest. The physical proximity helps—unlike with Guard and Ahkelios, I don't have a specific skill to create a bond between us. Gheraa hasn't been exposed to temporal anomalies nearly as long as Guard has.

But that doesn't make a link impossible. It just means I have to build it myself.

Firmament Control.

—

It feels, for a moment, like the entire world is collapsing around me.

It's not, of course. When I established a link between our cores, I essentially placed myself into the landscape of Gheraa's soul. It's the reason this whole process is so dangerous. To keep him alive, I have to be a part of him, at least temporarily.

Here, I can feel how bad it is. The sense of the world falling apart is just Gheraa's core slowly decohering. It feels like it hurts—one part of it is trying to tear away from the other.

I reach out, and with all the force of my will, I hold it up. The instant I do, the trembling stops, and I feel Gheraa's attention turn to me.

"Ethan?" His voice is panicked. Within his core, he's much more coherent—the manifestation of his mind isn't suffering the way his physical body is. "Ethan, you shouldn't be here. This could kill you."

"It's killing you," I point out steadily.

"It doesn't matter if I die," he says angrily. It surprises me how much self-loathing I hear in those six words—how much has he been hiding from us? I've seen glimpses of it, and it explains why he was so thankful to learn that I didn't blame him, but...

"Have you seen what I've done? What the Integrators have done?" Gheraa continues, gesturing animatedly. "You saw what that Ritual blowback did! That wasn't even in the Interface's programming—that was done by us! Everything we've done is—"

Gheraa stops mid-sentence, frozen by the expression on my face. "It's killing you," I say again. "And you're my friend. I told you, didn't I? You're more than forgiven."

"I..." Gheraa starts, then stops, swallowing. "But..."

"Hurry up and fix it," I say. "Because I'm not leaving. Like I said—" I grin at him. "It could've been worse, right?"

Gheraa swallows. He looks at me, and for a moment it looks like there are a thousand things he wants to say—a thousand words he's left unspoken. But instead of saying any of them, he shakes his head at himself, then nods to me, and sits on the makeshift ground of his soulscape.

A moment passes, then two. Time doesn't seem to have much meaning in the landscape of the soul; I don't know how those moments translate into the real world. But I can feel the weight of keeping things together slowly increasing, pressing down on metaphorical shoulders as it tries to tear itself apart.

I don't let it. In fact, it's surprisingly easy to keep things together. With the way the Knight spoke, I expected this to be difficult, but it's almost as if his soul has a sort of intrinsic trust for me. All I have to do is ask it to stay together, and as long as I'm here, it just... does.

Gheraa straightens a little. Something around him seems to change—a shift in the air, a ripple that echoes outward.

A change in his Truth, ringing out to remap his soul.

I almost ask him what it is, but I stop myself just a moment before I do. There's something in his expression that tells me he's not quite ready to talk about it. It seems to bring him some measure of peace, at least; that much is clear from the way he moves and speaks.

And then it stops. The change halts, freezing everything within Gheraa's soul a fraction of a second before it would have completed its journey. I frown—this must be what the Knight warned me about. As much as power as Firmament grants its users, once a core has been set in place...

It's resisting that change. There's a final barrier the new Truth needs to overcome. Something insurmountable.

And then Gheraa begins to laugh. I glance over at him, surprised. It's not the manic laugh of someone resigned to their death—it's surprise and joy and relief. "I get it now," he says, and then he turns to me. "I'm going to need your help."

I raise an eyebrow. "Figured something out, did you?"

"No one survives a phase collapse," Gheraa says. "Frankly, they shouldn't even happen."

"The Knight said as much."

"They certainly shouldn't happen this easily," he continues, grinning at me. "It takes a lot more than just changing the way you think to make a Firmament core collapse. We're talking years of deliberation, of fighting against the impulses of your Truth. So why's it happening so easily for me?"

"Because you died?" I ask, and he snorts, a flicker of his usual amusement entering smile.

"Because I spent far too much time around someone whose entire Truth revolves around Change," he says.

"That's a lot of words you're spending to tell me that all this is my fault," I say lightly. Gheraa laughs.

"Fault is the wrong word for it, my friend," he says. "This isn't your fault, no. This—" he gestures to his still-changing soul, and I notice for the first time how much lighter the new one seems. How the weight of his Truth has fundamentally changed. "This is what you made possible."

He holds out a hand. The question is an implicit one, and I understand it almost immediately. He's asking me to lend him my Truth, because my Truth allows for a flexibility that Firmament was never meant to have. Practitioners are meant to give solid, complete answers that define who they are when they build the layers of their cores, but me?

Even from the very first layer...

I'm whoever the fuck I want to be.

My Truth is that of Change.

I take Gheraa's hand. Something within me surges, a bright beacon of potential that flows through me and into him. The wave of change in his soul inches forward, surmounting a gap that should be impossible.

And in the quiet space of the Intermediary, Gheraa sits up, whole once more.

—

A new bond thrums between Gheraa and I, one that matches what I already share with Guard and Ahkelios. It's like I've finally rounded out the team, in a way. Gheraa's certainly delighted by it—he spends no small amount of time peppering me with thoughts through the mental link we now share. Through it, I sense a kernel of his true emotions beneath it all: relief that he's no longer alone.

And, to a certain extent, relief that our friendship wasn't a lie.

There's a quiet, introspective air around us as we leave the Intermediary. Ahkelios is glad that Gheraa's alright, of course—in fact, he promptly draws the Integrator into a hug and then carries him right out of the Intermediary. I mostly just watch in bemusement as he does this, and give the Intermediary one last glance as I step out with him.

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Without Gheraa's soul altering its landscape, it's back to its usual appearance. What's more is that the big pillar of Firmament that connects it to the Integrators appears to be mostly repaired, and that repair is accelerating now that the dungeon is no longer strangling its growth.

It would worry me, but we have bigger things to worry about. I'm pretty sure the Integrators aren't going to be able to do much to Kauku, either.

Guard is just as relieved when we make our way back into the Empty City—he grabs Gheraa in a hug of his own, forcing him to let out a surprisingly crow-like squawk. Novi mostly watches in curiosity.

"So that is what the Integrators look like," she comments.

"Didn't you already see his Integrator form when I brought him back?" I ask. Novi shakes her head.

"Not truly," she says. "It is... difficult for me to see anything that is not properly present in reality. A consequence of the Path of Sight, as it were."

There's something sad in her voice. I glance at her, frowning slightly—now that I'm paying attention, there's a faint film of Firmament over her eyes. I suppose it's no surprise that the Path she took affected her perception, but her sadness feels like it's about more than that.

"There's something you're not telling me, isn't there?" I ask. "I noticed it last time, when we were in the Sewers. It's like you're grieving for something that hasn't happened yet."

Novi offers a rueful smile. "You are perceptive," she says. She doesn't speak for a long moment, instead staring into the distance. The colorless landscape of the Empty City is a stark, depressing sight compared to the life I saw in it when the Ritual first began.

"Shall we have dinner first?" she suggests after a moment. "I believe my children are waiting."

I blink, a little confused by the change in subject. "Sure," I say. It fits into the next Ritual objective anyway, although the objective in question is... strange, to say the least.

[Ritual Stage 4: Enjoy A Meal]

That's all there is to it. No prerequisites, nothing about the Seed. I frown at the Interface, not quite sure what to make of this new objective, then glance at Novi.

"You know what's next, don't you?" I ask. She glances up at me, then shakes her head slightly.

"We will speak of it later," she says.

And that's that, apparently. She leads us to her home, refusing to speak any more on the subject, though she seems happy to recount just about anything we wish to ask about her family.

—

Dinner is a surprisingly involved affair. With how dreary the Empty City seems, I expected things to be a lot more subdued, but Novi seems to have taken the opportunity to cook up a veritable feast. Her options are limited, of course—most of the city's natural sources of food have long since collapsed—but she's managed to save a surprising spread of it regardless.

Some of it, I notice, are leftovers from the supplies I gave the scirix the last time I was here. Novi notices the way I'm looking at the food and chuckles.

"One must make the best of what one has," she says. "I hope I did your food justice."

"It's not Earth food, but it'll do," I say, smiling. If anything, I've grown to find a certain comfort in Hestia's food—it's certainly better than just foraging for scraps whenever we're in a hurry.

Really, food as a whole is something of a luxury. My later phase shifts have more or less eliminated my need to eat, and looping means I'm rarely ever hungry. The meals we have together are more out of a need for connection than a need for nutrition.

"Enjoy," Novi says, offering me a slight bow. "You are, of course, welcome to join our table when you are ready. I believe my sons will have many questions for you."

I watch her for a moment as she takes her leave. Ahkelios steps up beside me, eyeing everything around us and looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"She didn't say this was going to be a party," he says. "There's... a lot of people here."

"I'm not sure party is the right word for it," I mutter.

It feels like everyone left in the Empty City is here, and that in itself is depressing. First Sky itself is enormous—this place should be absolutely packed. Instead, I see scirix gathering into small groups and talking to one another in quiet murmurs. Reminiscing, it looks like.

I've never been in a place so filled with people that simultaneously still feels so empty.

Still, I try my best to mingle, and so do the others. The scirix all seem oddly eager to tell me their stories, like it's the last chance they'll get to tell anyone about their lives; that only makes the feeling of dread in my stomach grow. I learn about their homes, their struggles, and their favorite works of art.

I flex a little bit of my power, reaching into the world around us with Hueshift and bringing a hint of color back into the Empty City. The Color Drain is still in effect, and I can feel it draining me even as I force color to bloom once more in the ruins of First Sky.

But it's worth it. I have a feeling I know what this is, and if I'm right, then this is the least I can do. The scirix grow a little more animated, breathe a little more easily. The laughter that emerges sounds a touch more genuine.

When it grows too much, we join Novi and her family at a table that's been set up away from everyone else. Novi smiles a little as we approach, even as her sons wave us over, looking excited to see us. Varus is there, too, dressed impeccably in the scirix equivalent of a white suit while Juni wears a black one. Yarun wears a sharper-looking version of his usual doctor's robes, the collar lined with a brilliant green that flows into the white.

Novi, on the other hand, has apparently found the time to dress herself up in flowing, iridescent cloth. "You look beautiful," I say as we take our seats.

"Thank you," she says softly. She looks for a moment as though she might say more, but then turns back to her meal, taking a delicate bite out of a leafy wrap. I glance at the others, then help myself to a small portion of something smoked and savory. It's surprisingly good. I share the taste with Guard through our bond, who seems to appreciate being able to participate, as it were.

And though we eat in silence for a while, it's not long before conversation starts to flow.

We share stories of our adventures, and Novi tells us embarrassing stories of her children while they desperately try to stop her. Varus doesn't hesitate to needle his husband until he's red in the face.

It's surprising how normal all of this feels. It's surprising, too, how much we all needed it. I can see a certain tension bleeding out of everyone as we talk about everything except the upcoming fight. We have an excuse, after all—the Ritual objective is specifically to enjoy this meal, and there's every chance that the dungeon's rewards will give us something that helps us beat Kauku.

Because as things stand, I'm not sure we stand a chance.

—

As the night winds down and people begin to head back to their homes, Novi speaks, her voice quiet.

"Thank you for giving us this moment," she says, looking up at the sky. I catch what I think is a glimpse of a tear before she turns away. "I did not think... It has been so long since I have seen my children's carapaces in their true shades. I had forgotten Juni was such a vibrant shade of red."

"I think part of that might be Varus's fault," I say, grinning. Juni makes an indignant, undignified noise at the opposite end of the table and shrinks back while his husband lets out a deep, booming laugh. Novi chuckles softly.

"I am glad you were able to see us at our peak," she says. "And I am glad that there will be others that remember what we were. But... I cannot help but wish I'd had more time."

I frown at this, a slow dread beginning to open up in the pit of my stomach. I'm pretty sure I know, but... "What do you mean?"

"I had hoped to have more time with my children," she says. "Even knowing the truth, there is an ever-present desire for more time. Time to see who they will become. Time to see what they might be able to do. They have grown so much into themselves, but the tragedy of all this is that our fate is predetermined, no matter how much I might hope otherwise. No matter how much this feels like a second chance, it is not."

"Novi," I say, about to protest, but she shakes her head.

"You must know it by now," she says, not quite meeting my eyes. "A Ritual is a recreation of the events leading to a practitioner's death. That is the truth of soulrot—when you are powerful enough, your death etches itself into reality, recreating your final moments again and again. The moments most important to you, or the ones that created real, lasting impressions on your soul."

"And if the Ritual is a recreation..." I trail off. Novi gives me a sad smile. Yarun, Juni, and Varus are all watching her silently, their expressions unreadable—no doubt they've already had this conversation once before.

"There will be no wait before the final stage," Novi says. "This was the last night my true self had with her children before we made our final expedition to destroy the Tree. And your objective, this time, will not be to help us."

A quiet ding resounds from the Interface, as though to emphasize her words.

"It will be to stop us," she says. The Interface's words spill out across my vision, even as she speaks.

[Ritual Stage 5: Protect the Tree]

Prerequisites:

Make an Offering 0/7

"No," I say.

"We cannot change this," Novi says, her words surprisingly gentle. "I have spoken with the team. They all understand. They have seen what happens to your people when you fail. We know what is at stake, perhaps more than even you do—I have restored some of our memories. We know what the Scions have done to us, and we cannot allow it to happen again to anyone else."

"You gave us this," Yarun says, gesturing to the feast. He smiles at me, too, although that smile is a little pained. "It's more than most would have done. I can't ask you to sacrifice your people for ours, and it wouldn't even work."

"Don't get me wrong, I'm pissed about it," Varus says bluntly. "If I thought killing you would save us, I'd probably do it."

"Varus!" Juni glares at him. Varus only laughs a deep laugh.

"But it wouldn't," he says. "Look, I've only known you for a short while. Not everyone is as noble and self-sacrificial as these three. But I'm not stupid, either, and frankly I want to see a Scion's face beaten in. If anyone's going to do that, you will."

"Etham," Ahkelios says, looking at me worriedly. I'm silent for a moment, and then—

"I think you're assuming my 'no' is a denial of reality," I say. "It's not. I understand what you're saying. What I'm saying is that I refuse to let that happen."

The table is silent for a long moment.

"Er," Varus says, scratching his head. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"This is not how this conversation was supposed to go," Novi says hesitantly. "It is not what I Saw."

"Then you haven't met this guy before," Ahkelios says, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he realizes where I'm going. Gheraa is beginning to smile, too. Guard leans back in his chair, one arm thrown over Harmony's shoulders.

"Just as I said," Guard says. "It is hard to explain who Ethan is. You must see it for yourself."

I snort. "You have to stop putting me on a pedestal," I say dryly. "But they're right, for what it's worth. People keep telling me things are impossible. It should've been impossible to defend Isthanok from the Integrators. It should've been impossible to beat the Abstraction. It should've been impossible to save him from a phase collapse." I jerk a thumb at Gheraa.

"A... phase collapse?" Novi looks a bit ill. "How is he alive? I did not expect... I did not See..."

"Trying to see anything in the future where this guy is involved is a waste of time," Gheraa calls cheerfully. I glance over at him, then do a double take—he's somehow managed to climb up onto Guard's shoulders, with Harmony looking up at him jealously. When did that happen? "Sometimes you need to just let him do his thing."

"My point is," I say. "What's one more impossibility?"

This isn't a promise I'd be making without a plan, of course. But I do have a plan. It's a plan I've been working on ever since I learned what the fourth phase shift would require.

A large dose of something 'real', anchored into my soul, strong enough to stabilize the fourth layer.

And this?

This is exactly what I need.