Draft Update 10/11/21 (Patreon)

(I'm putting out this chapter mostly because I've run out of time. I've not unfinished, per-se, but I'm unhappy with it not only in terms of length, but the flow of the actual content, and I will almost certainly revise it significantly later this week. It just doesn't adhere together correctly, and I'm certain there were things I meant to include I didn't, but just can't recall and for some reason didn't note down in detail.

As to why this happened, I had a biopsy earlier this week, and then tried to grind out all of my normal work in three days so I'd have some time to relax and approach the chapter slowly. I did manage to do said grinding, but I'd been struggling to get to sleep after the biopsy, and the night following, I had a bout of sleep paralysis that I think damaged my brain. Since then I've been experiencing what I can only describe as mental hiccups. My train of thought will suddenly break, I'll forget everything about my current train of thought, and I won't be able to conceptualize anything complicated for the next 5 or so minutes. This has been happening about twice an hour.

This has only been going on for two days, so hopefully I'll recover while spending the next two days drinking.

Edit: Revised version with a little more information from Anna and some next-chapter beats moved in.)

Inner Sanctum First Floor | 10:26 AM | Third Day

I wasn't sure which of those two descriptions were less useful. The second at least had something to latch on to.

"Um," I said. "You mean this is the afterlife?"

"I am going to assume that is not a serious question," she replied.

"Sorry," I said, removing my glasses for a moment to rub my eyes. It was only about 30% serious. "Then when you say 'the land of the dead', what do you mean?"

"As I said, it's a colorful way of framing the situation. I don't recall who put it as such originally," she explained. "To be more technical, we are presently residing in a demi-plane at the uppermost level of the Tower of Asphodel, where the few lingering connections the old world maintained by the Ironworkers remain. Most notably the Tower's facilities for observing the outside world, and the pneuma held in stasis for inductions. It's a crossroads between constructed reality and organic reality - or at least, what's left of it."

I scratched my head. I guess that did make sense. When Neferuaten had explained the original purpose of this place as an observational facility for entropy, it had seemed odd that they'd have elected to place it underground at the bottom of the ocean in one of their semi-failed projects. 

"The machine underground--" 

"--is an exception to the dual nature of this place, yes," she said. "That exists only in this version, along with the tools of the Ironworkers to which it is an extension."

I blinked. She thought fast.

"...let me go over this one more time, just to make sure I'm understanding this correctly," I said, speaking slowly. "So you're saying that earlier, before all this started happening, we were existing - physically - in two versions of this place simultaneously. And those two versions were identical to one another." I tilted my head to the side. "But what about, say, when I had steak and egg porridge for breakfast? If there's only one 'me' but two 'sanctuaries'--"

Only one Su but two ApSus, an intrusive thought offered unhelpfully.

"--then, what would happen to the version of it that didn't go down my throat? Or what about the luggage I brought with me?" I finished.

"It was a mistake to try and use an analogy," Anna said, stopping her work for a moment to rub the space between her eyes. "Think of it this way. There are two versions of this sanctuary, but under most circumstances, they are 'merged', so to speak. Using Spatial Aetheromancy, one confined physical space has been warped to exist wholly in both locations, as opposed to there being two physical spaces, merely synchronized, in which the human visitors are traversing simultaneously. It is only when the connection is 'broken' that a de-facto copy is made of everything within it. Excepting human beings, of course."

"And that's what's happened now?" I asked. "The connection is broken."

"Yes," she said, squinting as she carved out another complicated rune. "It's a function which triggers upon certain conditions. A lockdown is one, which is why I originally assumed that to be the case." 

"So, when this happened..." I said, trying to extrapolate, "What would happen if, say, someone had been watching from out on the ocean floor? Would be all just vanish, while the rest of the sanctuary remained intact?" 

"Not exactly 'vanish'," she said. "Based on my tests, it's more likely that they would see everyone drop dead at once. Though the instability incurred by such an event could also cause an effect similar to a contact paradox - indeterminate."

"Y-You're telling me that there's a brainless corpse of me on the ocean floor," I said, a little alarmed.

"Potentially. Though it might be better to think of it as a copy, insofar as the separation process entails the potential energy sustaining the connection being transformed into matter, more or less." She made a dismissive gesture. "Regardless, it shouldn't be of any concern to you. When connectivity is re-established, the version of the sanctuary currently in the Atelikos is eradicated and replaced. In order to prevent that process being interrupted by the presence of human bodies with resistances, the interior of the bioenclosure is flooded with explosive force."

"I... see," I said, my eyes wandering awkwardly. "I can't even fathom how complicated it would've been to set all this up."

That wasn't just a turn of phrase. I literally didn't know enough about Aetheromancy to understand how you'd begin to accomplish such a thing.

"The fact that we've ended up in this one, though," I began inferring, "means that it's the version with primacy, right? The 'real' sanctuary-- The hand casting the shadow."

She snorted. "You're not wrong, though your reasoning is flawed," she said. "You're making several assumptions. For one, it is only those approved by the systems of the sanctuary, those who have come to it through the proper channels, that arrive in this one upon the failsafe's activation. Others are left behind in the mundane."

"Why do all this?" I asked.

Anna considered this for only a fleeting moment before launching into a fairly extensive explanation. "When construction of this sanctuary begun, there were three objectives for the project which were delivered to me by the rest of the council. The first was the replication of the superficial features of our previous headquarters, but I largely delegated that task to focus on the two more pressing ones, which were defensibility and optimal interfacing with the Ironworker's observational facility for the purposes of your grandfather's project. For both goals, it seemed optimal to me to construct it directly on top of said facility. Any form of remote access would have rendered us insecure. Vulnerable." She knelt down a bit as she continued her work. "However, there was a significant obstacle that emerged in the progress."

"What was that?" I asked.

"This plane, such as it is - I've heard it called the 'Palaikos' or 'Nekrokos' by some scholars, though there's not really a technical term - is really no reality at all. There is little basis for the existence of conventional matter and energy, nor even time and space. It is a place of objects incomprehensible to the human mind... That is why you see only emptiness beyond the glass now; nothing we can behold with our eyes alone exists here. Even the stonework far beneath us is only an attempt to give form to that which is formless." She sighed. "The plane can only be interacted with at all under limited circumstances, and establishing a means of travel to it is an endeavor which takes decades. To artifice this place here at all, it first needed to be constructed in conventional reality, and superimposed upon its ultimate destination. To create an anchor, and borrow a slice of the planar ruleset from the Atelikos."

"But that anchor, was severed a few hours ago, wasn't it?" I asked. "Yet we're still here."

"You're keeping up with this quite well," she commented. "Yes, we were ultimately surprised by what happened. As the project beneath us progressed, I discovered that, somehow, this aspect of the sanctuary was no longer dependent upon its grounding in the Atelikos after all. The reality in which it resided became independently stable, retaining its properties even when isolated for years... Though I could find no logical explanation as to why. It was almost as if an unseen hand were holding it in place." I saw her reach for another tool, but now that she was crouched over, it was harder to tell what specifically she was doing. "It was then that I devised the notion of creating the ultimate defensive mechanism. You've probably inferred as much already."

I closed my eyes for a moment, thinking.

"...this place is unassailable, except via betrayal from within," I deduced. "Based on what you've said, at any point, it can be broken away from the 'real' sanctuary along with any members of the order within, while invaders are left behind in a place 'flooded with explosive force'. And even if they survive, there's no way for them to follow."

"Correct," she said. "Unfortunately, 'except' is the critical word in your description. As we are currently contending with."

I nodded. "So... You don't understand why the sanctuary is able to exist this way at all? Why it doesn't just disappear?"

"No, I said there was no explanation," she clarified. "That was centuries ago. Things have advanced considerably since then."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

She didn't answer, the only sound the scraping of her tools against the wall. I guess that meant the question was off limits. 

Still, I wasn't content to leave things there. 

"When I spoke to Linos about all this, he answered with half-truths at first, and then later deflected away from the question. He does that about a lot of things, so it might not mean anything... But when the topic came up when I was talking to Neferuaten, she was reticent too." I was doing my best to project confidence and make it come across like I was presenting an irrefutable accusation, as opposed to shooting in the dark like an idiot. "And there are a lot of things about this place that don't really make sense. People only come here for short meetings, but it's built like a high-class resort. And even though the order was outlawed, the extent of the defenses are brazenly overkill-- With what you've just told me about how difficult it is to access to begin with, there's no reasonable justification for it."

"You really are taking a very forward tone with me," she said, a little annoyance creeping into her otherwise level speech.

Why did it feel so easy to talk to her like this? Maybe it was because she sort of reminded me of Ran, in this state. The bluntness and lack of intonation in most of her words. The lack of height.

"There's something about this place that you're not telling me," I said. "About the purpose it's supposed to serve. And I'm worried it might have something to do with what's happening tonight."

"Would it soothe you, were I to tell you I was fairly certain it didn't?"

"Not really."

She let out a long sigh, looking away from her work to face the ceiling for a few seconds.

"Tell me, Utsushikome of Fusai," she eventually said. "Do you know how gunpowder first came to exist?"

I furrowed my brow. "It's a pre-Saoic invention, isn't it? From alchemists early in the New Kingdoms Era."

"Yes, but that's not the interesting part of the story," she went on, resuming her labor. "The monks devising it arrived at the formula while trying, poetically enough, to create a medicine that would confer eternal life. Of course, they had absolutely no notion of the task before them - it would be over a millennium before the concept of micro-organisms would even be discovered, let alone the principles that actually drive even the most basic forms of human senescence. All they were doing was mixing chemical components together and shoving the result down their throats to see what would happen. Far from extending life, they usually ended it." She carefully withdrew another tool, this one resembling some manner of stamp, and began pressing it against the stonework. "Yet in the process, they managed to create something which utterly transformed warfare forever. Arguably, their invention had more impact on human history and life going forward than it would have if they'd somehow stumbled upon a genuine panacea right then and there."

"I don't mean to be rude, but I'm not sure what this has to do with the sanctuary, exalted mistress," I said, holding my hands together. "Or what's happening to us right now." Normally I was all about going down weird tangents in conversations, but not this time.

"My point is that great things are often accomplished despite one's original goal, not by virtue of it. In seeking knowledge, you arrive at unexpected places, and your priorities change." She pushed some of her long hair away from her face, adjusting her hood. "I will say this much: This sanctuary has served multiple purposes. You've seen this yourself. We built it in pursuit of your grandfather's vision, but that vision ultimately came to nothing. Yet in that failure, potential was found."

"Potential for what?" I asked.

"A different manner of reckoning with mankind's mortality."

"What sort of manner?"

Once again, she didn't respond, only letting out a small sigh.

I frowned. What was the order trying to keep secret, and why? To not be forthcoming even after two of their inner circle had died and one was missing implied that it was either something incredibly valuable to them... Or something incredibly dangerous. Unless I was overlooking something about their thinking.

"My grandfather once told me something," I tried. "That the mission of the order was much greater than people thought. That even though it started being about immortality, it became about something more fundamental."

"It doesn't surprise me that █ █ █ █ █ would put it that way," she replied. "More than anyone else, he was always looking for solutions to mankind's broader ills, with the rest of us following in his wake. First his research into entropic phenomena, and then following from that, the pneuma and the mind." It wasn't hard to sense the bitterness in her tone. "The design of the sanctuary itself, more than anything, is a living legacy of his various obsessions. The excess in terms of defensive and quality-of-life measures is itself an aspect of that."

"How are the two connected?" I asked. "His research, and the design of the sanctuary." 

"A better question would be how they're not," she said. "Though 'research' may be overextending the term. For example, the mimicry inherent in the sanctuary's design was largely his suggestion - based, like many things, in his over-sentimentality that bordered on the mental illness, and the pseudo-scientific concepts that sprung from it." She shook her head. "Even now, his ideas are still rooted too deep to be pulled out."

"What do you mean by 'pseudo-scientific concepts'? Was there some deeper purpose behind making it resemble the last headquarters, ostensibly?"

"It's nothing particularly advanced. I am no expert, but there is a school of thought in psychology that holds that individuals cope more easily with long-term isolation when surrounded by environments they perceive to be familiar." She raised up a cloth, dusting the area she was working on. "It goes beyond simply resembling the old headquarters, as well - much of it is like that, but there are also areas specifically sentimental to the higher-ranking members of the order."

I blinked. "Can you give me an example?"

She made a dismissive gesture. "The garden outside of the guest house was based on a location from Durvasa's youth, I am given to understand. Things like that."

I nodded. Long term isolation. That didn't sound like what Sacnicte has described in brief - occasional meetings broken up by long periods of disuse.

My eyes narrowed. "If all of this stuff is a product of his ideas... Then did he want this place to be a shelter from?" I asked, feeling like I was closing in on something and deciding this was a good time to bring things around to Ran's theory. "That's what this place is, isn't it? A shelter for your organization. It explains both the defenses and the emphasis on long-term comfort-- And even why it's called a sanctuary in the first place."

"No," she said bluntly. 

"...no?" I said, caught off guard.

"In fact, you've misunderstood the situation completely-- Well, not completely. We've always been wary of threats to our work from ideological and political enemies. But in this instance, you have the situation backwards." 

"I don't understand." I frowned, feeling put off.

"A sanctuary can also refer to a place where something is cared for," she explained. "Cultivated. Like a bird sanctuary, for example."

My eyes widened a bit. What was she saying? Something was 'cared for' here?

"But as I said, I doubt any of that is relevant to what's taking place in the present moment," she continued, while I was still absorbing those words. "Having seen what we did in the administrative core, it seems certain this is some sort of posthumous tantrum on the part of your grandfather over our professional separation with him."

"You think he's responsible for this."

"Almost certainly," she said resolutely, nodding. "It's likely he planned this before his death, and that one of your classmates is an agent carrying out his instructions." She hesitated for a moment. "If you are wondering, I do not suspect you, despite your relationship. Knowing him, I doubt he would employ you for such a task - my best guess would be that child who delivered the component for his magnum opus, or possibly Linos's son, as the facts seem to suggest. It's also likely that there may be an accomplice among our own ranks. He has many devoted supporters in the order, even now."

I scratched my head. "Was the falling out he had with the rest of the organization really so bad that he'd want to go as far as killing everyone here?"

"Yes," she said.

Wow. Okay.

"I understand you ultimately had a poor relationship, so I do not think I will risk offense in saying that, despite his intellect and charisma, he was a deeply egotistical man," she went on. "The type of person who considered themselves above morality, but would react to the perceived transgressions of others with all the fervorous indignation of the most insufferable priests. And he was utterly intolerant of challenges to his authority." She snorted. "We ultimately expelled him because he would not stop treating the order's resources like they were his personal belongings, and because he engaged in open sabotage of the work the rest of us had decided to pivot towards. I can easily imagine him doing something like this out of sheer spite."

"That's... Pretty severe," I said. It wasn't like I was unwilling to accept a negative characterization of my grandfather, but still, I'd never heard him described in such harsh language before. "What exactly was the disagreement that led to this happening?"

"It wasn't any one thing in particular. Our professional... Well, in most cases professional... Relationship with him deteriorated over a death of a thousand cuts," she explained. "However, the ultimate inciting incident was when we wished to narrow our priorities following the revolution and focus on life extension principally once again, aborting his current overambitious venture to pursue a tangible goal. To say the least, he objected."

"What goal did you decide to pursue?" I asked. If what Zeno had told me about hadn't concerned what we'd seen after all, then...

"A treatment for dementia, based on both his research and that of the fool upstairs," she stated, presumably referring to Zeno. "Moderately promising, as things stood. Though now, we may very well cut our losses on even that."

I scratched my head. That certainly didn't sound what he'd been referring to, either.

"I... see," I nevertheless said. "If he were the culprit in all this, though... How would he have known to set this weekend so far in advance, though? I assume you haven't been planning this event for over a decade."

"You're ascribing intent where none likely exists," she replied. "This is one of our regular dates for conclaves. On top of that, it's the weekend of the 200th anniversary of the Alliance's founding. It was likely his best guess at a day when we would be holding a large event, with the details left in the hands of his accomplices." She pulled back for a moment, wiping the stamp-like device with a cloth. "Evidentially it's a sub-optimal outcome to him, in truth. Because we invited your group, there are far less of us here than there normally would be."

I frowned. Something about that explanation felt off, but it did, at least superficially, make sense.

"So, uh, to digress a bit,"  I said, "When you mentioned something being cared for--"

"As I said, I doubt it's relevant to the events currently unfolding," she said, cutting me off with a terse sigh. "Speak to one of the others if you truly must. I was barely involved in the project."

"Oh," I said. "Well... okay."

I was learning a lot over the course of this conversation, but I couldn't help but feel unsatisfied. I'd hoped that hearing more about the nature of the sanctuary could maybe help unravel the method or motive of the killer, but her explanations, while they were answering some questions, felt like they were just giving peripheral context. 

...well, unless it really was as simple as my grandfather seeking revenge. If that was the case, then everything wrapped up fairly nicely.

I decided to try pulling on another thread that felt like it could be related.

"Nefueraten told me yesterday evening," I said, "that there was some conflict surrounding the order - that spanned far beyond it."

"Did she," she said, impassively.

I nodded, even though she wouldn't see it. "She also said that a great tragedy had destroyed the previous headquarters."

For a moment, Anna seemed to freeze, apparently thrown off by me bringing this up. But then she resumed her work as if nothing had happened. "Yes," she said. "That's true."

"What happened, if you don't mind me asking? You were part of the order already back then, weren't you?"

"There was a massacre," she said bluntly, though in a stiffer tone than she'd used up until this point in the conversation."Though unlike the one we are facing here. There was no subterfuge involved, merely a slaughter."

"Who was responsible?"

"It was a raid by the oathguard of the time, still fresh from their unification after the Tricenturial war," she said, but something in her tone was reserved, doubtful. "Though it was... More complicated than that. "

More complicated. "It's a bit of a reach, but... Do you think it might have any connection to what's happening now?"

Suddenly, Anna abruptly ceased her work. She set her tools down in the box, shut it, and then turned from where she was kneeling, taking a seat upon its lid. She looked up at me, her bright eyes piercingly inquisitive and searching. I couldn't help but fidget with surprise and anxiety.

"Tell me, Utsushikome of Fusai," she said, not withdrawing her gaze. "How much do you remember of the old world?"

I blinked in confusion, and stuttered as I attempted to reply. "I-I'm sorry...?"

"I know what █ █ █ █ █  had intended for you," she said. "None of his obsessions have escaped me over the years. So you recall some of it, surely."

This time, it was my turn to freeze. Like Zeno, she obviously knew something, but had an incomplete version of the truth.

"I, uh, don't really remember much..." I eventually spoke awkwardly, deciding it would be better to just go along with what she was saying. "I-- I was very young. Just some early memories, places..."

"Do you remember it fondly?" Her eyes narrowed.

I bit my lip. "Yes."

She peered at me for another few seconds, then eventually spoke again. Her words came slow and careful, like they were dangerous waste that she was disposing of cautiously. "I am not like Zeno, Linos, Neferuaten, or Hamilcar. As I am sure you have inferred already, I have little lingering respect for your grandfather. ...That said, he gave you a gift that very few arcanists of your nature in this world will ever receive; earnest love as both your past and present self. You will never understand how precious a thing that is." She held her gaze. "Many people have died trying to prevent that past from being buried, or in trying to reconcile themselves with it."

I tried not to let it show on my face, but I was completely baffled. What was she talking about? I understood where this misunderstanding was coming from - she probably thought I was a normal person with assimilation failure - but not the rest.

In fact, the phrase 'earnest love' was making me really uncomfortable. I held my arms together, looking down the hall.

"When you are older, you may come to understand the significance of what I'm telling you," she said. "But suffice it to say, it also has nothing to do with what is happening here. And unlike my previous assertion, this one I can make with total certainty." She shifted, turning back towards her work.

I didn't know what to say, but I had the sense that I'd misstepped, somehow.

"Now, if you don't mind, please leave me to this work. You are slowing my progress," she said.

"U-Um," I said, not yet ready to let this go. "One more thing. The mural at the gateway. You know a lot about it, right? Ran told me."

"Mm," she said, clearly having grown tired of this exercise.

"You told her it was an upscaled reproduction of a painting made by another member of the order."

"Yes."

"Does that have anything to do with this...?" I held up the manuscript. "It's something I-- I received earlier, when I was visiting Samium," I possibly-bluffed. "It's some sort of strange expansion of the Epic of Gilgamesh. I think it might be circular like the mural, too."

She grunted. "As I told your friend the other day, I'm not familar with anything along those lines. My only involvement was copying the original for use in the gateway design, which wasn't even my decision. It came mostly from Hamilcar's infatuation with the piece." She withdrew a magnifying glass from her toolbox, examining something. 

"Oh," I said, disappointed. "...what was the concept behind the original painting, if you happen to know?"

"If you're angling for evidence that it could have been inspired by whatever this text you've been given is, then there's little I can offer you, though neither will I attempt to refute it," she said. "It was originally painted by a younger member of the order, a long time ago... They sampled many texts from our archives, and those belonging to our older ranks." She paused for a moment before finishing the thought. "Uli, their name was."

Uli. I hadn't heard the name before, so it didn't feel like much of a clue, but I tried to take it in regardless. 

"Where is the original painting now?" I asked.

"Very conveniently for you, it's located on the second floor of the main hall, over the orrery," she said flatly. "You should go gawk at it right now, instead of bothering me."

And that, unfortunately, felt rather like that. Even though I wasn't sure I was remotely closer to understanding what was going on. 

"Well..." I said awkwardly. "Thank you for your help, then..."

She didn't respond, so after several seconds, I hesitantly headed back up the stairs.

As I returned, Zeno awaited me with a smug look. "Get what you were hoping for?" she asked, as she abruptly tossed the pistol back at me. 

I tried to be cool and grab it with one hand, but suddenly felt anxious that I might drop it or set it off, and ended up awkwardly fumbling with both hands before ultimately catching it in my skirt. My face flushing a bit, I put it back into my bag. "Not... Exactly."

"Didn't expect so," she said.

I furrowed my brow. Glancing around the chamber, I noticed that, while Sacnicte was still sitting around looking bored, Ezekiel appeared to now be absent. He'd probably gone out to the lounge for some reason.

I looked at Zeno, who was now developing a vaguely expectant expression as I continued to not leave the room. Between her and Linos, I wasn't sure who would be the better pick to interrogate about what Anna had alluded to. ...well, considering their track records rationally, it was probably the former, but I really didn't want to have a lengthy conversation with her.

"Cat got your tongue, little girl?" Zeno asked, her tone condescending.

...no, thinking about it, there was something I could only her... And that was the nature of the order's misconception about me. Why she'd treated me like that, when we'd first met. 

But I couldn't do it while Sacnicte was right there. So it'd have to wait.

"I," I cleared my throat. "I'm going to go." 

"Am I your primary school teacher, now?" She gestured towards the door, smirking. 

Feeling irritated, I headed back down the corridor. Returning to the main hall, everything was as I left it, with the exception of Fang having put their legs up on the sofa, and Ezekiel appearing to be talking to Linos about something at the table, the latter looking a little uncomfortable. As soon as I arrived, though, the former broke away from the group and walked over to me. I noticed he was holding a notepad.

"Saoite," he said. "I need the incantations engraved on your scepter."

Oh, I see what's happening. "You're putting together the list Linos was talking about?" I asked, furrowing my brow.

"Yes, obviously," he said. "It's been put off for long enough since that debacle with Lilith's mother."

Ezekiel or not, there was no point in making a fuss over something like this, so I begun rattling them off. "I have eight. The Entropy-Denying Arcana, the Entropy-Accelerating Arcana, the Negenthropic-Interfacing Arcana, the Life-Slaying Arcana, the Flesh-Animating Arcana,  and the three beguilements."

The third on that list was the foundation for my Negenthropic-Resuscitating Arcana intended for my presentation. As an arcanist became more skilled, they could engrave increasingly broad incantations upon their scepter, and merely append them for more specific uses. I'd already mastered this in some cases - for example, I could use the Life-Slaying Arcana perform most which involved killing something specific, like cancer cells. 

In the case of the Negenthropic-Interfacing Arcana, however, it was more of a set of training wheels for developing a new incantation which did nothing in isolation. If I was more skilled, I probably could've engraved the Entropy-Reversing Arcana and based on that, but that was an incredibly difficult technique to begin with.

Ezekiel scribbled my words down. "Understood."

"Can I see the list...?" I asked.

He clicked his tongue. "When I'm done." And with that, he stepped away.

I sighed to myself, looking around the room. Ran was regarding me with an expression of concern from the sofa. My eyes wandered towards her and Kamrusepa, towards the roof, and towards the table where Theodoros was still seated with his father.

Well, then. What next?