RE: Monarch
Chapter 99: Sanctum XXIV

But as I watched Thaddeus, sitting there smugly amongst the others, I realized that wasn't true. I could never forgive him for what he did.

It didn't help that he was very hands-on with Barion, giving him little glances, knowing nods, even a friendly touch on the shoulder from time to time. They were clearly friends, closer than anyone at the table, including Morthus and Saravan.

“All I'm saying, is for so-called men of action, you've made very little progress over the last few months.” Thaddeus drummed his fingers on the table.

Saravan smiled, showing too many teeth. “Temporal magic is not the sort of thing you rush, human. I'm certain that little gray-site to the south that is now a smoking crater can attest to that.”

I felt a tinge of satisfaction as Thaddeus’s smile slipped.

“What are you doing?” The dwarf to Saravan’s left asked, eying Saravan suspiciously. “The humans are blowin’ themselves up, but at least there's signs of life. It's been quite some time since we’ve heard an actual progress report from you folk. Just posturing and catty remarks.”

“I have only just returned to the fold. Thanks in no small part to your contributions, Godraec. The wheel of elven progress is large. It covers much distance but is difficult to steer. These things are circumspect. I must let my companions discover their sudden desire to study the complexities of time. Being direct will only result in unnecessary questions.”

Thaddeus held his hands to the side in a half-shrug. “As fellow members of what many would consider to be a secret society, I think it is fair to assume we understand the meaning of subtlety. But there are leagues of difference between moving slowly and not moving at all.”

Morthus looked uneasily between the two men. “While time is not on our side, Saravan is not the sort to drag his feet. When decisive action is needed, he will press forward—“

“I do not need you to defend me, Morthus.” Saravan cut in with a snarl. “For someone so critical of what others are doing, Thaddeus, you have said precious little about your task. Yours and your pet’s.” He shot Barion a disapproving glare.

“Yes, well, as you so callously noted, the functional magic side of things has hit some rather significant setbacks. But we do have other things to bring to the table.” Thaddeus drummed his fingers. “Barion? Why don’t you tell them.”

“Yes, my lord.” Barion stood, manner filled with barely withheld glee. “Our biggest problems so far have been with time displacement itself. Functionally sending something through the temporal bubble has been next to impossible. The power involved is vast, massive, and even when the actual span of time is really quite small, the margin and likelihood of error is far too high—extrapolate that to our original intent to use this method over greater spans of time.”

“And the reason you’re saying all this like it’s a positive?”

“Because several weeks ago, there was a breakthrough.” Barion’s voice raised in pitch and excitement, eerily reminiscent of when he would wax poetic during our discussions in the Everwood. “We managed to send someone forwards.”

There was a long, dangerous silence.

“How.” Morthus’s question was flat.

Barion started to speak when Thaddeus cut him off. “Unbeknownst to Thaddeus, a certain researcher got a dangerous and unethical idea in his head. While the result was questionable, the logic was sound. Displacing a body is complicated. Any number of things can potentially break down with the jump. Even when you’re talking about something as basic as botched teleportation. Organ failure, loss of senses, insanity. And the problem magnifies with distance or movement through space.”

“So you started toying with souls instead? The one thing that is permanent and survives reincarnation?” Saravan looked gobsmacked.

“Please, Saravan, the elves cannot possibly sit in judgement on this topic. How many of your ancients have mutilated either their souls or those of others?” Thaddeus asked.

Saravan grit his teeth. “There is a reason we do not speak of the aberrations. Nothing good has ever come of them. And it has brought disaster and horror to the homes of any who follow their blighted footsteps.”

“Be that as it may.” Thaddeus said forcefully, trying to take back control of the conversation. “We do not have the luxury of being squeamish. And while the researcher who went off path is no longer with us, his experiment did work. A soul was successfully moved forward in time by five minutes, and the subject is alive and well.

The table creaked under Godraec’s tightening grip. “You’re being very unspecific about your subject, human. And I have a feeling I know as to why.”

A slow, dawning horror fell like a curtain across the rest of the table.

Barion gave Thaddeus a look, and then spoke. “Souls are eternal. But it is no secret that they are most open to… modification… when they are first transplanted into a new body.”

“Children?” Morthus’s sputtered. “You’re talking about experimentation on children?”

“The researcher was taken off the project.” Barion snapped.

“Save your plausible deniability,” Godraec growled. “We agreed there have to be lines. Soul magic, experimentation on children. That’s clearly crossing them. Not to mention, I’m going to go out on a limb here and the child you exploited wasn’t human.”

“Oh, surprise, we’re going that route,” Barion said.

“Stop trying to derail this and focus on the value.” Thaddeus jumped in, a bit too quickly. I once again wondered when exactly this was happening. He seemed less confident than before, as if he hadn’t fully grown into the man I’d come to hate. “We were never going to be able to send fully formed mages backwards. It creates too many problems. Reality destabilization, echoes, the fact that no one knows what happens if you interact with the duplicate of yourself. But if we can send back a soul, dozens, even hundreds of them. We can create an army of magicians more powerful than anything this world has ever seen. And they might just be enough to save it.”

Though Saravan and Morthus were still fuming, the partial explanation calmed Godraec. “And the identities of these children?”

Thaddeus shrugged. Again, the motion was just a bit too casual. “Anyone in our sphere of influence. Any race, anyone with promising blood and the capacity to awaken to an element.”

Saravan looked like he’d been punched in the stomach. His voice quavered, “You… want to forcefully degrade their souls. Prevent them to returning to the afterlife. Put them through the grinder of what is to come over the ajdwahonidwa over and over again.”

“Imagine it, Saravan,” Barion’s voice trembled, and his mouth pulled back in a wide smile. “Hundreds of arch-mages at our fingertips, many of whom, if my calculations are correct, will have the potential to awaken to every element.

“There’s never been a Premier.” Saravan shook his head, glanced at Morthus. “As much as my people try to feed that legend. And you think that you can make an army of them?”

“It’s the specific span of time that’s vital. That’s why this development is different. There is no time of greater exponential growth and transformation of the soul than the first awakening. If they relieve that moment, over and over, I believe the awakenings will begin to cluster, occurring closer and closer together. If we can anchor that recursion to the dwaojdwang, then victory will be inevitable.

“What you are suggesting, is reprehensible!” Saravan’s voice ripped through the room. “You’re talking about taking people and breaking down their souls until they’re next to nothing. Stealing their future lives. Not just killing them. No. This is worse.” He looked around him for agreement. And found none. The surrounding room had calmed. The faces of outrage shifting into expressions of consideration, and in some cases, careful excitement.

Godraec scratched his head. “I’ll be honest. My people don’t care as much as yours about the sanctity of the soul. But the magnitude of this isn’t lost on me. It’s not right.” He looked straight at the outraged elf. “But the state of their souls—anyone’s—won’t matter if there’s no world to come back to.”

“It is better than anything we’ve come up with Saravan.” Morthus said quietly.

Saravan jerked towards Morthus, as if struck, and truly seeing him for the first time. “I thought… you understood.”

“Sorry,” Morthus said, “But you’re the one who forced me to look at the bigger picture.”

“What agents do you have in mind?” Godraec asked Barion. “Ye have someone in mind, or you wouldn’t have brought this forward.”

Barion and Thaddeus exchanged another look before Thaddeus spoke slowly. “We’re… keeping that close to the vest, for now. The idea was that everyone would aid with the selection process. But there are two primary candidates. One will be complicated to access for political reasons. The other is at our fingertips. No complex ties. In many ways, she is in every way an ideal candidate. Both dark elves and demon-kin in her distant heritage—powerful ones.

I immediately thought of Thoth. The way she struck me as not entirely elven. The elongated nose, the tight, almost alien jawline, and a mix of slightly off qualities that were too subtle to identify. A quiet anger washed over me, as I started to absorb the fact that the person who had caused me so much pain might have been the product of people Who Were Just Trying to Help.

Saravan bristled at the mention of dark elves, but Morthus looked transfixed. “Which infernal?”

Thaddeus smiled. “Keep in mind, the Black Hold put quite a bit of work into tracing lineages with a combination of magic and extensive record keeping. It’s all very long-winding and complicated, but we believe her line started with Tailen the Magnificent and Matriarch Khakrer.”

There was a sudden of breath as the whole table processed the information. Saravan appeared more unsettled than he had been by the reveal of what Barion and Thaddeus’s experiments had involved, but Morthus looked awestruck.

“The vanished bloodline of Infaris.”

“And Queen Khakrer became a monstrous tyrant towards the end of her long life. That guarantee power, Thaddeus.” Saravan said cautiously. “It’s entirely possible for the talent to skip entire generations, especially in the context of mixed heritage.”

Barion was quivering with excitement. “But if she does, if even a fraction of either of the side of power lies within her, she would be an unbelievable asset.”

Thaddeus held up a hand, silencing his companion. “This is, of course, if we are allowed the approval of the table. I understand it may appear as if certain liberties were taken, but we do intend to cooperate. If we have any hope of stopping the cataclysm, we must maintain unity.”

He sounded so earnest, as he pontificated. As if he really cared for the unity of the group. One by one, the members raised their hands until only Saravan was left. I felt my blood burn. The purpose of this lucid dream was now clear. Morthus was showing me the descent of the Metamorphosis Initiative, and I had no doubt that Thaddeus’s well-blooded hands were the source of its turmoil.

I had thought the vision had come to an end, when Saravan finally spoke. “I will accompany you.”

Thaddeus blinked. “It would be a waste to pull you away from your independent research—“

“Be that as it may, that is my cost. There are others who can cover for me, you are not the only one with underlings. I will oversee both the research and the experiments to ensure things remain within the bounds of reason.” Saravan looked towards Barion with distaste.

“That is—“ Barion started to protest, but quieted when Thaddeus nodded.

“Acceptable,” Thaddeus said, “we agree to your terms.”

Godraec looked strangely energetic, grinning widely. “About time we made some bloody progress. We might actually get something done.”

I turned to Elder Morthus as the scene faded, trying to keep my anger in check.

“Only you didn’t, did you?” I asked.

Morthus shook his head, his light eyes filled with a glistening sadness. “No. We did. Saravan did. It took time, but he saw the necessity of what the humans were trying to do. And once he did, he tried to throw himself into the work, to make it happen, but in the end… the cost was too high.”

“What happened to him?”

“Madness happened. Consumed him, until there was nothing left. He tried to… well, it’s better if I show you.” Morthus’s lips pressed together, and the scene shifted once more.

I recognized the cloud-white dome of the sanctum. However, unlike the many varied areas we’d already seen, this one was almost grim. Foreboding. Entirely paved over without a tree or shred of greenery in sight. Hundreds of mausoleums were topped with spikes around their roofs, stone surfaces torn and dyed dark gray and black by weather and time.

Morthus was sprinting through the winding path of the mausoleum, leaping over fallen rubble and almost indistinguishable remnants of what used to be written word and markings. He looked older. His horns had grown slightly, not quite as long and ornate as they were now, but close. But the panic in his eyes was as wide and raw as that of a newborn’s.

“Saravan!” He roared. “Saravan stop!”

I ran behind him, struggling to keep pace, eventually tapping into my magic and feeding the inscriptions on my legs.

At the end of his path was a structure that resembled the other mausoleums, only the size of a castle. There were two, massive keep doors with intricate carvings barely visible as they only slightly stood out from the iron. A single crest that appeared like a moon-struck sun stood out in the center.

Saravan stood at the door, gazing up towards the emblem. While Morthus looked as if he’d aged a handful of years, Saravan appeared to have aged fifty. The light whimsy of his figured had vanished, and now he stood, his head cocked to the side. The formal, elegant white robe that had once bestowed such presence was in tatters. My heart skipped when I saw his eye. They had both sunk into his head, framed by hollow sockets. But his right eye was red, slit like a snake’s. Entirely too reminiscent of my foe.

The light faded from his hand as he turned around. But he didn’t face Morthus, he looked off, just to the side of him.

My heart pounded.

“Did you know…” Saravan said, pausing to wet pale lips. “That the prime leyline was here?”

“Saravan.” Morthus was still breathing heavily, but remained upright, his body tense.

“Was there ever an Infaris at all? Was it just a nursery maid’s tale, couched in disinformation?”

“You need to come back with me.”

“All those years of looking for it, and you kept this a secret. No matter. We cannot go back.”

“No.” Morthus took another step towards him. “We are confined to the Sanctum, yes, but there are things we can do within its bounds.”

“I am not speaking of the Sanctum, Morthus,” Saravan said. His voice held none of the pretense from the earlier memories.

“Then tell me.” Morthus was almost begging. I could hear the pain in his voice. For the first time, I noticed that Saravan held a silver globe beneath his arm. Morthus saw what I saw. But he did not look surprised. “Saravan… what do you plan to do with that?”

“All their talk of planning. Using isolated agents.”

“I don’t understand.”

Saravan looked at Morthus, his eyes pitying. “They do not plan to isolate the recursion at all, my friend.”

Morthus froze mid-step. “No. You can’t be saying—“

“The humans realized it before any of us. No matter how large the army, it will not matter in the face of total annihilation. It will take everyone. So, the agents will serve as markers. Memory capsules. That is the purpose of their soul alterations. And everyone else will die, and die, and die, without ever knowing the existential horror they exist in. Their souls will wither to ash.”

“Only if we fail. It’s… horrible, but—“

“I have yet to reach the good part.” Saravan raised an eyebrow. “The true purpose of the agents.”

“What then?” Morthus raised his hands to the sides and let them fall. He inched closer.

“Did you think they’d be heroes? Raise our banners. Fight against the darkness?”

“That was the idea.”

“Oh no…” Saravan laughed until his voice broke. “It was never going to last forever. A thousand years at most, maybe two. There are limits to that sort of thing, even when you have access to the dhwioahdiw. The agents will speed up the process.”

I felt sick. I wanted to cover my ears.

“They will be tyrants and dictators. Murderers. Tormentors. Mass slaughterers wielding unimaginable power leaving only suffering and genocide in their wake. The worst sort of monsters. And they will scour and scourge the people, until their souls are ‘ready.’”

Morthus’s hands curled into fists. He spoke through grit teeth. ”This is Thaddeus’s plan?”

“Yes.”

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“Too long.”

“Just— Damn it, Saravan! Why didn’t you come to me?”

“The same reason we have no intention of going to the council, or the Dwarven Thanes, or the Elven tribes. Because I knew this truth was too horrible for you, my friend.” Saravan smiled. A small fissure opened at the side of his mouth.

Morthus was quivering on his feet. Then, he released his fists into open hands, forcing himself to calm. “I cannot condone what you’ve done. But I still do not understand. You accepted this.”

“Because I thought it would work!” Saravan shouted.

“And that has changed?” Morthus asked.

“I am living proof.” Saravan said, his voice ragged. “I have lived entire lifetimes in such a short span, knowing what I know. And from that cursed knowledge I am no longer the person I was.” His eyes were glistening with tears. “Even if we drew our agents from amongst the greatest philosophers and perfect paragons of virtue, it would not matter. After a millennia bathing in the blood of innocents, not one shred of purity will remain. They will become the monsters they play to be. It is inevitable—“

“—nothing is inevitable—“

“—We cannot be saved. We are simply trading one cataclysm for another.”

The weight of it all crashed down on me. I’d come into this late, either by providence or freak accident. The breadth and complexity of the plan was difficult enough to process. I could barely take it all in, as one point kept repeating in my mind, over and over. Thoth was only one of the recursers. Judging by her power, and the way she spoke, she’d been doing this a very long time. It begged the question, then. Who were the others? There had been no sightings of rogue arch-mages, burning villages, either in this life or the previous. Did that mean she was the last of her kind?

And if she was, what had happened to the others?

Morthus stared down at the ground. “I can’t let you open that gate, Saravan. I never told you were it was because I knew you’d want to look. It is the prime leyline. The corrupted monsters that lay within are likely beyond us both.”

“We are already lost, Morthus. All that is left is for us to accept that. And die with dignity.”

“I can’t believe that.” Morthus’s entire body was shaking. A dark blue hue overtook his arms as he began to draw mana from within.

“You should have killed me when we first met, and saved us all the trouble.”

“Wait—“ Morthus voice cracked, and he took a moment to compose himself. Then he spoke, his voice warm and earnest. “You are my friend, Saravan. Please. Hear me. You told me once that the key to waking ones self from the dark is to ask questions. And you were right. It worked. So just… think for a moment. Do you really want to die without knowing for certain if there is another way?

Saravan smiled. And for a moment, he regained that peaceful serenity he had embodied that first vision in the field. He inclined his head slightly towards Morthus in a small bow.

“Yes.”

The orb in Saravan’s arm began to glow. He looked calmed. Relieved, almost.

There was a loud crack, and Morthus struck down his friend with a wave made of razored water. Saravan didn’t bother shielding it. He collapsed, covered in a spiderweb of wounds, and the orb rolled from his hand.

Morthus let out a pained roar, and the memory faded away, leaving us in the austere setting of the sick room.

“And now…” Elder Morthus’s voice was so tired it sounded as if he might fade away at any give moment. “You know the truth.”

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