Chapter 29 : City of Lights (Patreon)

Swan Dragon, Lesser Elemental Dragon of Fire, Censor of the South

Realm Year 764, Descending Wood

The Sky over An-Teng

Eight hundred years lost to the torment of the Rain Princes and his own insanity. As great as one’s loathing for the Fae was, they always managed to prove it insufficient. 

His long serpentine body coiled through the air, the wind whipping at his hair in a most nostalgic manner, and his white scales gleaming in the Daystar’s light. The fog of ages lingered in the corners of his mind, but they were blown back and aside for the time being. The winds whipping past provided a renewed calm and clarity, as they always have. 

Spirits of the air perked up from their cloud perches as he flew past, but he did not linger to greet them, he was on his way to the nearest gateway to Heaven, and from there back to his modest estates for evaluation. As relaxed as his pace was, he was still a Dragon, and only the swiftest of lesser elementals could hope to keep pace.

His pace was relaxed to account for his guest, a little weight he could feel clinging onto the top of his head, accompanied by that fledgling hybroc of his. 

“We will be alone for a time, grandson.” He rumbled through his bevy of teeth- licking at them occasionally in no small amount of embarrassment. He was groomed moderately by Brahm, but a mortal could not hope to compare to the grooming gods of Yu-Shan, and Swan Dragon felt distinctly filthy and undergroomed. His scales had gone hundreds of years without oil and steel brush, his teeth were a faint yellow instead of pearly white, and his mane had several mats.

What would they think, when he returned to heaven in such a state? Oh what shame he’d bring to all dragons! To distract himself, he rumbled again, speaking to the sorcerer clinging to his mane. “You had warnings for me, I remember?”

“I did, yes.” The sorcerer called back, having to yell over the whipping winds. Swan chuffed, a bubble of his essence spreading out around them and blocking out sound and winds. Only a scant, quiet breeze could flow through the newly erected shield.

It would not last long, but it did not need to.

“Ah, thank you.” The sorcerer replied, quieter than before. The fledgling hybroc on his lap chirped. 

His other ‘grandsons’ had already split from them. Brahm had elected to return to the Blessed Isle. Siata and Shuri had remained behind at the Pinnacle of Mercy to speak with the Golden Lord. Only Rhomon chose to accompany him further, and for obvious reasons- Swan Dragon had yet to fulfill his obligations to the young man who had led the efforts to restore his mind.

“There’s two things most pertinent to yourself, I believe.” Rhomon began after a moment of thought. “Firstly- be wary of Wong Bongerok. If he learns that you are alive, he will surely attempt to kill you.”

Swan accepted the warning with the gravity that it was issued, but privately wondered how true the claim was. Perhaps if he were insane still, and if Wong had been continually belittled by the Celestial Gods as was claimed, he could imagine such- but with his mind restored and soon to return to heaven, under the watch of so many of the guardians and peacekeepers therein?

It would be foolishness, foolishness to such extremes that he’d grow concerned for Wong’s mental state. His old subordinate was always canny and bitter, but never stupid. 

“And the other?” Swan rumbled as they moved past a broad stretch of jungle that he didn’t recognize except in vague strokes. It was definitely An-Teng, now that he had a better view of the land, but it had changed much since he last examined it. The industriousness of mortals and the decay of time, two jaws of the hound named change. 

“Ahlat has been bribing some secretary in Yu-Shan to keep your department underfunded, something he has kept doing to Wong since your disappearance. I’m not sure which god he’s bribing, however.”

A significantly more serious matter. “I will issue the appropriate audits and investigations.” Swan declared as they flew along the ends of the Firepeak Mountains and started to veer over to the side. The gateway was roughly two hundred and fifty bounds north of the An-Teng he remembered. “What of other matters, ones more general?”

“I’ll be blunt, Honored Cen-”

Swan Dragon coughed to interrupt him. The sorcerer paused, before coughing and correcting himself.

“I’ll be blunt, grandfather, Creation stares down the barrel of at least five potential apocalypses, maybe more.”

“Five?” Swan asked somewhat incredulously. 

“Prepare yourself, grandfather, there’s a lot.” The sorcerer spoke with a sympathetic tone in his voice. “Firstly, are you aware of the death-curse uttered by the fallen Primordials, that the Unconquered Sun parried?”

“I am.” He was a younger elemental then, not quite a dragon and much more a swan, and he could recall the hate in those terrible curses. There was nothing more terrifying.

“The death-curse fell upon the Exalted Host.”

Swan stopped midflight, rearing back and coiling up, reinforcing the bubble of essence that surrounded them. 

“Explain.” He rumbled.

“It is called The Great Curse. It is a cancer that steadily grows throughout the lifespan of an Exalt’s current incarnation, but is forced to reset with death and rebirth. It subverts their virtues, and slowly warps them into a parody of themselves. Solars become wicked tyrants, Lunars become instinctual beasts, Sidereals become hubristic manipulators, and Dragonblooded are dominated by their elemental impulses.”

“You are suggesting that the Usurpation was-”

His grandson interrupted him. “I am not suggesting, I am stating. Were it not for the Great Curse, the Usurpation might not have ever happened.”

Swan Dragon coiled in the air, head remaining stationary as he considered the idea. A conspiracy several thousand years in the making… “...Who knows of this?”

“The fallen Primordials, for certain. The Yozi, most likely. The Maiden of Secrets, almost certainly. I believe Autochthon suspected before his seclusion… I am almost certain that Lytek knows as well, but he simply isn’t equipped to correct the issue.” 

This was a heavier secret than he could’ve ever anticipated. He closed his eyes, and continued to coil in thought, a meditative movement that helped focus his mind- ill-practiced as it was with thinking rationally. It warranted further investigation before he committed wholly to it- but if the mortal had already pinpointed him in his insanity, it was entirely reasonable for him to know other secrets such as this.

‘What would you do, if you knew the future?’

The Maidens of Fate were rather heavy-handed when it came to course-corrections, at least this time. They were normally much more subtle than this. 

“I would ask that, if Lytek is found to be aware, some leniency is granted to him. He’s simply not equipped to fix this curse, but he has been diligent in attempting so.”

“That would be beyond my judgement.” Swan Dragon replied tensely. Such a matter as this would be the exclusive domain for the High Gods themselves to cast judgement upon. “Is there a method to break this curse?”

“Only one that I’m aware of, but it’s incredibly risky, and pertains to one of the five apocalypses I mentioned earlier.” The sorcerer nodded atop his head, a motion he could feel through faint shifts in weight. “The Jade Prison has been broken by servants of the Neverborn- The Solars are returning, but about half of them have been captured and corrupted by the Neverborn and Yozi.”

The honorable and diligent Censor does not lower himself to curse and swear.

“Damnation.” He muttered, coiling and twisting uncomfortably. “Half?” He snarled uncomfortably.

“About that- a hundred or so have been captured by the Neverborn and flipped into champions of the underworld, servants of their Deathlords. Abyssals they are named, and they are a darkness as powerful as the Solars are bright.”

“-But!” Rhomon leaned forwards, placing a hand on his brow. “They no longer suffer from the Great Curse, and can be turned back into Solars once more with earnest redemption in their heart and the intervention of a Zenith Solar and the Unconquered Sun. All Solars who are returned in such a manner no longer suffer the Great Curse.”

“Unfortunately, it requires powerful necromancy to force a Solar to fall to Darkness, and equally powerful magic to redeem them. It would work, but…”

“...That sounds entirely too risky.” Swan muttered. Rhomon nodded atop his head, and leaned back. “What of the others? You said roughly a hundred of these Abyssals exist, but there were three-hundred Solars.”

“The remaining fifty have been traded to the Yozi, and are being twisted as we speak- similar to the Akuma of old but with their corruption significantly deeper within. I know of no means of returning them to Solars.” Rhomon shook his head. “The return of the Solars, the planned deathmarches of the Deathlords and their Abyssal servants, and the attempted Reclamation of Creation by the Yozi and their Infernal servants are three of the potential apocalypses that Creation faces.”

“How soon?”

“All upcoming calamities will begin within the next five years.”

Silence lingered in the bubble of warding essence.

“You can perhaps see why I moved so quickly to restore your mind, grandfather.”

“I can see that, yes.” Swan Dragon muttered. If even one such event was true, or partially true… “What of the others?”

“The Scarlet Empress has been captured by the Ebon Dragon, and is currently being violated in body and mind. When she returns to Creation, it will be as his slave and bride, unless she is rescued before then. In the meanwhile, the Realm of the Dragonblooded will slowly collapse into civil war over her empty throne, leaving their legions utterly unprepared to deal with the deathlords or demons.”

The Shogun being captured and bound into an Akuma did, indeed, sound quite problematic. From what he had been told thus far, Creation had gone several centuries without the fearsome warring of the Dragonblooded, and it would be best to curtail such a thing. He made a note to request proper citations on who these deathlords were. The name was vaguely familiar, but the Underworld was never his specialty.

“Next, the Fae that exist beyond Rakshastan plot another crusade.”

“Of course they do.” Swan Dragon snarled, clenching a four-clawed hand. “...Rakshastan?” He asked with a note of confusion in his voice.

“The fae that invaded Creation in the first crusade were all partially shaped by the loom. They cannot enter any deeper for long periods, nor can they flee into the deep wyld anymore. They’re creatures of the periphery- the Fae beyond their portion of swallowed Creation plan to unmake them along with the rest of Creation.”

They’d deserve nothing less, he thought darkly. “Five apocalypses then-”

“Oh- there’s a half-apocalypse incoming.” The sorcerer interrupted, as if the thought just occurred to him. “Mortals who live in Autochthon’s world-body will soon breach the southern portion of Creation and start their own invasion- they are largely ignorant of anything in Creation and can probably be turned into allies by sending down a diplomat to explain things and negotiate trade. There’s a chance that their incursion will trigger a chain reaction that awakens Autochthon himself, whereupon he will return.”

“Politically sticky, but not apocalyptic.” Swan muttered, shaking his head slightly and starting to fly forwards again, even faster than before. “If this chain reaction does not occur, then it will be a matter between mortals and mortals, as far as Heaven is concerned. You will have to handle it on your own, though I can offer advice-”

“If the future doesn’t change, they will capture The Lap.”

His manse.

“In my capacity as a concerned homeowner, I can offer significantly more aid.” Swan Dragon rumbled, making the sorcerer laugh atop his brow. 

“That’s largely it, as far as calamities go. There’s lesser dangers and threats, of course, but those are the big ones.” The sorcerer shook his head. “I will do my best to prepare Creation for these things on my part, but I need more power and knowledge than I currently have-”

“Hence the request for tutors.” Swan Dragon nodded, a vaguely concerned rumble bubbling up in his throat. “Even with the most exceptional tutors, it will be years of training before you are much a master of anything. Sorcery is powerful, yes, but…”

“If I can master Alchemy, I can handle the rest.” The sorcerer declared with a firm nod. 

“Alchemy? The mortal art? Not sorcery?” The dragon rumbled in confusion. “What benefit does mere thaumaturgy bring you over proper spells or artifacts?”

“Autochthon’s work is a pathway to many abilities that Exalts and Gods overlook, grandfather.” The sorcerer spoke with great confidence and intrigue, voice abrim with that distinctly mortal flavor of hubris. “He has left me these tools, and with them I will make a lever that will push Creation into salvation.”

Swan Dragon quietly chuffed in amusement. “I believe I know who I will ask to mentor you first, though it will not be an alchemist. Are you familiar with Jakatam Shining Hammer?”

“...I might’ve heard the name? It’s been awhile if so.” Rhomon shook his head.

Rapidly they began to approach that old gate Swan Dragon remembered, a great edifice of magical metals flanked by a pair of Celestial Lions, the incorruptible guardians of heaven. 

“A student of Autochthon, a great craftsman, enchanter, and artificer all. I believe the pair of you will get along well, if you speak so well of the Great Maker.”

“Oh… Well yes, mastering those things will be quite useful- I really need to master alchemy specifically for my plans to succeed…” 

“I have no immediate knowledge of any godly alchemists, but I will make inquiries on your behalf, grandson.” The bubble began to fade as they approached the gates, and Swan Dragon slowed his flight down to polite speeds. The Celestial Lions turned their solid golden heads towards him as he flew, and even from this distance he could see their metal eyes widen.

“By my honest sight- is that you, Swan Dragon?!” One of the celestial lions exclaimed as they descended. Swan Dragon lowered himself to the ground to stand before the lions, clawed feet gently clutching on ancient stone. 

“It has been some time, I know.” Swan Dragon greeted gravely. “Is that you, Lubu?”

“I’m surprised you remembered the name, Lord Censor!” The celestial lion replied with a flattered tone, nodding his strong head. “Where in heaven or earth have you been, honored censor- some thought you to be dead!”

“I had been captured, and driven to insanity by the Rain Princes.” Swan Dragon shook his head, then glanced upwards. “This young man atop my head was the principle impetus for my return to sanity, finding me in my madded state and bringing me to a mind-healing manse. Please regard him as my grandson, for this.”

“Hello, Honorable Lions.” The sorcerer stood and performed a deep bow to both of the lions. 

“Of course- we will spread the word among our number. Please, let us open the gates for you and your grandson.” Lubu rose from his seated perch, bowed, then turned to the gate. He pawed at the side, along with his fellow lion, and the gates began to slide open. Cracks in reality forming and revealing a tunnel fifty yards long, exiting out into a splendid street of precious stones. 

“Thank you.” Swan nodded gratefully, picking up off the ground and beginning to fly through the tunnel. The trio of celestial lions who guarded the inside grew wide-eyed and bowed as he passed, and he nodded his head respectfully in turn. The end of the tunnel grew brighter and brighter before they eventually emerged onto the other side.

Swan Dragon pulled up and breathed the familiar, pure airs once more. His eyes roamed around the streets of pearl and the palaces that stretched as far as the eye could see, only terminating in the high walls and enormous dome of the sky.

The sun was emblazoned upon the celestial dome- The Unconquered Sun was currently winning the Games of Divinity, it seemed. 

“Lord Swan?” Curious, almost excited mutters followed his emergence, as celestial lions turned to regard him and various little gods dropped to their knees in awe.

“I am returned.” Swan muttered. 

A city four-thousand miles wide, filled with palaces more grand than any that could be found in Creation. Lowest around the edges of the adamant walls, and rising higher and higher and higher in the middle under ending in a magnificent dome of jade that could be seen from anywhere in the boundaries of the pure space. 

Yu-Shan, City of the Gods.

“Try not to seem overawed, grandson.” Swan Dragon declared with some amusement, knowing what Rhomon’s expression was without even needing to look. 

“Well it would be rude of me to not seem awed, wouldn’t it? The builders put all this effort into making it, you know?” Rhomon spoke with a dry humor, making many of the little gods balk around them.

“Such reactions lure con artists and scammers- you must be wary, as a mortal in these places.”

“There’s con artists and scammers in Creation too- I think I’ll be fine.”

“Remind me to assign you a minder, grandson, lest someone swindle you out of your soul.”

“What if it’s an exceptionally beautiful woman who says that she’ll love me forever though, huh? What about that?” His grandson spoke with a tone that indicated full awareness of the scheme. The fledgling hybroc in his lap squawked affirmingly. 

“Those are the most dangerous swindlers of all.” Swan joked, before curling up and taking flight once more. “Come, my manor is a long ways away still.”

They had work to do. 

A certain weariness fell upon his shoulders, a weight that was countered by the euphoria of being able to think clearly for the first time in centuries. END OF BOOK 1