Wish upon the Stars chapter 1242 (Patreon)

Gordon the goat welcomed us into the library with all the excitement of a kind old grandfather getting visitors for the first time in a decade. “Oh, guests!” he said excitedly as he ushered us into the building. “How novel,” he winked at us when he said that, and my mom laughed. So did Gordon, and his braying chuckle was very goatlike. “Apologies, I couldn’t resist.”

I grinned. “Not at all, nice to see someone with a real appreciation for humor. I find it’s a rare quality in these troubled times.”

My mom rolled her eyes. “That Serah girl is a bad influence on you, your pun earlier wasn’t funny. But my son is correct, we appreciate your hospitality. This is a lovely library you have here.” She glanced around the small, warm building, at the dense wooden shelves packed with books of different shapes and sizes made from well worn and well cared for polished wood that showed real love.

Gordon let us into the center of the large library room (bigger on the inside, if I wasn’t mistaken, though not by too much) and let us sit down at a big square table made of the same polished, well worn, dark wood as the shelves. He had to clear stacks of books off it, but once we’d sat down, he hurried away and then back, bringing saucers of delicious smelling tea.

“Oh, I’m so very excited,” Gordon gushed. “I so rarely get to host. I hope you enjoy biscuits with your tea.”

I took a long, slow sniff of the tea, a milky liquid that was scented like spring rain with a hint of peppermint, and then noticed that the saucer surrounding it was spotted with cookies. Small, square shortbread confections with actual goat heads baked into them in a slightly darker dough, like a monogram. I picked one up, dipping it gingerly in the tea, then took a bite and absolutely lit up. “These are delicious!”

“Patty bakes them for me,” he said brightly. “She’s the town baker, an absolute treasure. What do you think of the tea?”

I took a sip and nodded vigorously. The tea was delicious. It tasted sweet and had a depth of flavor to it that was hard to describe. More than that, as it hit my stomach it sent warmth spreading through my body. Dan was active, so I know it wasn’t anything dangerous, it was just a VERY high skill in teamaking. Tea was supposed to make you feel warm and relaxed, and Gordon’s tea was excellent at its job. It was impressive.

“You must have put in a lot of time practicing,” I complimented him as I took another sip. And I wasn’t being polite either. This was obviously a peak Mythic skill. Possibly more. Had he taken his teamaking skill to the Divine rank? I hadn’t known that was even possible, though I suppose given the skill wasn’t a major one it might not be as difficult? People like Abel having skills two ranks above their maximum were considered geniuses, but that was basically untenable at higher ranks. Putting aside the amount of effort needed to do it with skills that expanded in difficulty sharply as you advanced, A-rank beings didn’t focus on side skills, they focused on their abilities.

The cookies too, based on Dan’s analysis, were potentially Divine ranked creations. And suddenly, I understood why the beings in this village were left alone for so long. How many of them had unnaturally advanced skills? How many were strangely specialized in something like making tea or baking cookies? More importantly though, if they were being protected, what was doing the protecting, and what did it have to do with the corruption failing to take proper root here.

I wanted to explain to my mother, but I wasn’t sure how. Dantalion gave me access to so much information, both as a baseline and in terms of processing. Trying to explain the leaps in logic I made while accessing his abilities was always difficult, because without access to the processing power I had or the fragments of information harvested by my sheer presence here, it probably sounded like wild speculation. I’d caught myself doing that too many times recently, filling in blanks that other people hadn’t even noticed using Dantalion as a mechanism. It was useful, but it made investigation a very solitary activity, or required other people to simply take me at my word.

“So, Gordon,” I said, sipping the tea lightly. “I have to say I’ve been enjoying your library so far, but my mind is still stuck on what Saunders told us earlier. Do you really agree that there are people going missing here?”

Gordon sighed, his head drooping. “I’m afraid I do. My friends, my neighbors, I’ve known them for such a very long time. Tens of thousands of years of friendship and happy memories, and yet I have no more insight into what has happened to them.” His head drooped, and I nodded sadly, letting Dan’s field of analysis soak up the books around us…until I processed that. 

“I’m sorry, tens of thousands of years?” I said blankly. “Sorry, Gordon, forgive me if it’s rude to ask, how old are you exactly?”

The elderly goat furrowed his brow. “How old? I suppose I haven’t thought about it in quite some time. Perhaps forty thousand years?” He glanced at Saunders. “What do you think, Sandy? About that long since we met?”

Saunders nodded. “About that long, yes. I still remember our first day in tow, everyone was so confused, but we all became fast friends right away. Clementine’s influence, I suspect. He was always the most gregarious of our bunch. Though Patrick was a close second,” his shoulders slumped. “Poor Patrick, he was one of the first ones to vanish. I do so miss his barbecue. An absolute delight to consume.”

That got an excited nod from Gordon. “I think everyone in town has their special skills, but Patrick stands out even among us. Of course, your furniture is just as integral around here, Saunders.”

The duck preened a bit, gesturing casually as if to dismiss the compliment. “It’s only a hobby.” He nodded to the table, shelves, and chairs we sat on. “These are actually my creations, you know. I try not to be braggadocious, but I’m quite proud of my little side projects. What do you think? Are they comfortable?”

It took me a second to process that. They were comfortable, incredibly comfortable. Furniture making at, I was guessing, Divine rank. I was beginning to have a suspicion of what might be going on, especially as Dan gathered the books from nearby so I could confirm. This was all starting to sound familiar. It was also giving me a very bad feeling, because if the situation was what I thought it was, it meant that the reason the corruption wasn’t entirely embedded in this fragment wasn’t as simple as it sounded.

“The chairs are lovely,” my mother said warmly to the duck. “I’d love to commission you to design something for my family. My daughter in law is going to be giving birth soon, and a new bed would be just what the doctor ordered.”

I lit up at that. “That’s a great idea, mom,” I said enthusiastically. “Do you do beds?”

“Of course,” he said excitedly. “Beds are one of my premium offerings. I’ll have to speak to the tailor about the mattress, but I could put something together for you before you know it.” He began describing the various possible constructions, and I let my mom distract him as I focused on the information coming in through Dantalion, processing the contents of all the books in the library. I wasn’t sure exactly where most of them came from, but as I sifted through the information, I became more and more sure of my conclusion.

Once my mom had them distracted, I settled my mine, projecting myself into my Domain as I sometimes did while leaving a parallel to run my body. My mask covered my face, of course, so it wasn’t particularly obvious even if I hadn’t left a parallel, but I didn’t want to be rude.

Appearing inside my Domain, I sought out Azazel. He noticed me appearing, sparing me a nod of greeting. I explained what was going on (which I wasn’t sure was even necessary because I had no clue if he could see what was going on outside, it wouldn’t have surprised me) and explained my theory, and he looked intrigued. “You might be jumping to conclusions about this,” he pointed out. “I admit, the age, the specialization, it DOES seem reminiscent of-”

“Of me,” I finished. “Sunshineville doesn’t seem to be real. Everyone there is overly friendly, something is taking care of them, they live way too long and they all specialize heavily in one specific skill. The old man told me before that I wasn't unique. He said it was rare, but nothing is truly one of a kind. I think Sunshineville is a Domain, and the animal people are a version of demons. That’s why Mordu hasn’t managed to fully convert this place yet. She’s trying to corrupt it through extensions, it would be like trying to convert my Domain through one of you.”

“You realize that if you’re right about this, that means the Domain’s owner is a Demigod,” he pointed out bluntly. “Tens of thousands of years of life? And he’d have had to be at least B-rank when he created it, most likely. Most people don’t make that jump as quickly as you. It takes centuries. He’d be on the far end of his lifespan, too.”

I shook my head. “Not necessarily,” I corrected. “Demigods START at five hundred Impact, but gods start at a thousand. A high tier Demigod could have seven, eight, or even nine hundred Impact to work with. At the standard hundred years to one Impact model seven hundred and fifty Impact is seventy five thousand years. Nine hundred is ninety thousand. I have no earthly idea how long Lark’s lifespan is, for instance, but it’s probably not short. I doubt he’s capped at the minimum fifty thousand.”

“So you think there’s some ancient Demigod hiding here?” he asked skeptically. “That they…what? Took over the fragment with their Domain? Is that even possible?”

“Who the hell knows?” I shrugged. “For every hard rule about being an Ascendant there seems to be some kind of exception. But there’s precedent for this, at least. I ATE a fragment of Deveskane, and incorporated his Domain into mind. If the Demigod here is like me, it’s highly possible he did something similar.”

He looked pensive, but I suspected he was coming around. “I can’t exactly dismiss it out of hand,” he admitted. “But if it’s true, this Demigod has been hiding a long time. Even the residents don’t know, right? How are you going to find him?”

“Simple,” I grinned. “Dan. He’s been imbibing books from the library. They represent millenia of information on Sunshineville and its residents, and if there’s any place in this town with information about the Domain holder, it’ll be here. Plus we have the lead of the kidnapped residents to follow up on. I have no doubt the Domain holder will involve themselves in that at some point. It’s better if we find them first, but if not…well, as long as we can help them cleanse their Domain Mordu loses another fragment.”

“More than that,” he pointed out. “We might gain an ally. And not just any ally. One who understands your Domain in a way no one else does. The old man and Lark have given you plenty of advice, but let’s be honest, even Dean Gibbons couldn’t really help you with the specifics. This person might be able to give you genuine guidance on how to create your saga, your objects of power. You might have found a real mentor.” He said aloud what I’d been thinking since I got this idea, and I couldn’t help but tense with anticipation. This could change everything for me.