Chapter 50 - Turning Point 2 (Patreon)

“The God of Conquest lends this vessel the authority to qualify candidates as Chosen.” Eve, still disguised as Proxy, placed a hand to her chest and smiled humbly at the gathered Chosen. “Though it may take many millennia, he feels confident that one of you, someday, will become his chosen successor in this Field of his realm.”

Silence took over the endless sky. The area seemed to hum with power and anticipation.

“Once again, the Chosen here have reached the qualifying numbers to anoint a new Shepherd among you to represent this Field and the challenges ahead,” she continued, voice even, ceremonial. “Before that, a new Rule must be decided upon by the newly selected Chosen from each faction.”

It amazed me how easily Eve pretended to be Proxy. The cadence, the patient pauses, the way she held her shoulders as if the air itself were listening; it was all perfect. If I hadn’t seen her enter Proxy and take over her form, I wouldn’t have thought anything of her. She acted as Proxy did when I first met her.

“Your Rules may not conflict with the main system operating this Field. They cannot stop the process of selecting Chosen. They may not invoke mass death or resurrection. If conflicts arise that violate any of these foundational principles, I will void the Rule,” said Proxy.

She should have prepped me more, I thought. Or I should have asked for more.

“I’ll send you to your factions so you can discuss which Rules you desire.” Proxy looked right at me. “But ultimately, the decision, and the consequences, lie with each of the new Chosen.”

With that, Proxy flicked her wrist. The space around us tilted as if a river had quietly changed course. I was turned until I faced the five red-eyed people behind me, and we went flying through space before halting, suspended in our own subspace of Purgatory. My table slid forward on invisible rails. The large one with the five others opened, creating a slot for my table to fit in. It clicked into place, forming a single conference table. The other Chosen all looked directly at me.

The one in the middle didn’t need an introduction. I knew who he was as soon as I saw him. He had long dark hair, looked far too young, and wore horns that resembled deer antlers more than the simple horns of other Primordials I’d seen. Given the rumors and his position among Primordials, based on everything Edwin and his attendants had told me, it could only be Oberon Syn.

At the far left sat a male Sylph with brilliant white wings, storm‑bright and layered, resting his head on the table like he was bored to death with everything. He looked to be about twenty, wearing only a white cloak and pants—no shirt beneath the cloak, no shoes on his feet. A breeze that wasn’t there teased the edges of his feathers every time he exhaled.

Beside him was another man, larger than everyone else, looking to be in his forties, with large cat ears that blended into his brown hair. His skin was tan, his muscles prominent, and scars latticed his body and face. He was the very essence of a warrior, bound in regal armor etched with claw‑marks and old victories; the metal held a matte sheen, as if rubbed with ash. The Theriad regarded me like a warrior would, assessing my worth from top to bottom, eyes narrowing where violence had once lived.

Skipping over Oberon, to his right was a Dryad with beautiful, straight blonde hair, a thin figure that looked chipped straight from marble, and noticeably longer ears than any Dryad I had seen before. She sat prim and proper, studying me like some unique piece of art. She wore a simple dress and a crown of living leaves, pale wood, and simple jewels.

Finally, at the far‑right end of the table was a female Naiad. Her skin looked like captured moonlight. Her eyes were large, like Chiya’s. Her gills pulsed, as if searching for air but finding none. She eyed me cautiously. Her ash‑colored hair lay over her shoulders, wet, as if she’d just been pulled from the ocean; the faint scent of salt clung to her. Her body was fitted with a form-honoring dress encrusted with jewels. When she shifted, water beaded along her collarbone and skittered down, refusing to soak into the fabric.

From left to right: Sky Devil King Jaymus Freeborn, Beast Devil King Lyron Vorrkhan, Archdevil’s Ancient One Oberon Syn, Forest Devil Queen Cleare Evershade, Sea Devil Queen Miyabi Tedaya, said Eve into my mind. Might be helpful. They’re going to bully the hell out of you. My advice? Just ignore them. Do the opposite of what they ask. It’ll be better for you in the end. Promise. And you’ll want to, regardless. They’re all bastards. You’ll see.

My face didn’t react when Eve contacted me. I held Oberon’s gaze, then let mine sweep the table once more, letting each of them see I was cataloging them as efficiently as they had cataloged me.

“I see one of your people was selected,” said Queen Evershade.

“That’s what we needed. More Oberon dominance,” huffed King Freeborn. “Lucky us.”

“You are free to rebel at any time,” said Oberon with a smile, glancing right to watch King Freeborn. The smile did not reach his eyes.

King Freeborn waved him off. “Too much trouble. As long as I can fly, eat, and fuck, I don’t care what happens to you all.” A feather drifted loose from his back and turned lazy circles lower and lower into the endless sky beneath us.

“Pathetic,” growled King Vorrkhan. “You call yourself a leader?” His claws tapped the tabletop in three slow, measured clicks.

“Haven’t passed a single law, haven’t collected a single tax, haven’t sent a single person to war for selfish gain.” King Freeborn paused. “You’re right. You cannot call me a leader.”

Vorrkhan looked like he wanted to fight after that little statement, but Queen Evershade’s voice cut over everything. “She’s adorable. Is this the one you were grooming for selection, Oberon?”

“I have never met this girl before in my entire life,” said Oberon Syn with a dark grin. “And that answers for me exactly who she is. You’re Melania’s daughter, aren’t you?”

I frowned. “I am.”

“Have you met Edwin yet?” He sounded amused. “I’d assume so, if you’ve had an epiphany. What tragedy did he reap?”

“He didn’t. It was his partner,” I said, keeping my voice even. The word partner tasted like iron.

“Elaine? Hmm. She must have fallen for Edwin,” said Oberon. He tapped his chin twice with his finger. “Is she dead?”

“She will be,” I uttered. “As soon as we’re done here.” The promise steadied my breathing.

“Ah, then you were in love, too,” he concluded. “Fascinating. I look forward to hearing more about your life when we have the time, but I’d like to finish this ordeal as soon as possible. At the conclusion of this selection process, set a course for Paradise. I’ll give you a mansion here and put you in charge of the Ethereal Council, after an adjustment period of a few decades.”

The Kings and Queens at the table looked at Oberon, shocked, but said nothing. Instead, their gazes turned back to me. Their interest renewed, as if a star had suddenly appeared in a sky absent of light. It sent small shivers down my spine.

“You’re young, less than fifty, and unintentionally ignorant of this process,” said Oberon to me. “Allow me to provide you with context, then assign you the Rule you must give on behalf of this congregation.”

“Assign me?” I muttered.

“You are aware of the different factions centered around eye color, belief, and the number required to create a Shepherd, yes?” he began. “Those are introductory notions Proxy has told everyone. The purpose of these ideological meetings is to converse on the Rules of the world.”

“I’m aware of the Rules.”

“Then we can skip to the history of them.” Oberon leaned forward, propped his elbows on the table, and rested his chin on his knuckles. His hair draped over the sides of his temples and touched his wrist, the strands shimmering like soot-stained spiderwebs. “I am one of the first three Chosen in this Field. At that time, there were no devils, Pantheon, marks, or demons. There was no distinction between internal or external mana. We weren’t limited to just four elements. Eyes were not the distinguishing factors in mana power, runic powers were not a viable system, and we could easily flow spells and body enhancements simultaneously. Needless to say, mankind was much more powerful then.”

The influx of information made me quiet as I slowly accepted each statement.

“A sad reality,” muttered Queen Tedaya. Water gathered in the hollow of her throat and trembled, as if the word itself disturbed its surface.

“But we Chosen have come to an agreement, of sorts,” said Oberon. “There is a defined system with a noticeable loophole involving the Shepherd process. Advancing with the intent to be Gods would only spell our demise. By working together, we can create a semblance of balance for this place and its people. Instead, we nominate a sacrifice whenever we reach eighteen Chosen, and their death resets this selection process. With all the Rules we’ve made over the millennia, it is exceedingly difficult for a Chosen to manifest. We’ll have another century or so before that happens.”

I thought of his words, and my eyes narrowed. “All the Chosen have agreed to this?”

“Yes, my dear.”

“If you are all powerful and can make such profound Rules, why is there so much suffering in this world? What about the wars and conflicts between our kind and the humans? The prejudice? The poverty, hatred, violence. Is that all fake?” My voice didn’t rise, but something in it sharpened.

“There must be conflict in order to create a Chosen,” said Oberon. “We did not make this system. If you must blame anyone, blame the Gods.”

“They toy with us for their amusement,” said King Vorrkhan. His lip curled, as if the word Gods were something rotten.

“Make us fight for a stupid title no one wants,” uttered King Freeborn. “What need do I have to be a God when I essentially already am one here? What more do I need?”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

I stared at them. “So all seventeen of you have essentially agreed to keep this Field in a perpetual loop of war, violence, discrimination, and despair? And rather than make Rules that benefit the people forced to exist here, you curtail them in ways that benefit yourselves while increasing the suffering of the population that has no choice but to thrash under the damnation of your definitions of peace?”

“That’s a naive way of phrasing it,” said Queen Tedaya. Her eyes flickered to Oberon. “We’re going to have problems with this one.”

“We won’t,” assured Oberon. He looked at me, his face darkening. “If we do, then all we need to do is nominate her as Shepherd.”

That blatant threat made the others relax. The room’s pressure eased a fraction. My spine did not.

“But it shouldn’t come to that,” he said. “We maintain an uncomfortable peace for lost souls in our Field. In others, there’s likely war and death at greater magnitudes, all because the Chosen of those Fields desire power.”

I understood the sentiment, but it didn’t sit right in my chest. Not with the world I’d seen. The calculus sounded neat in council light, but I’d lived as a normal person in their system. I wasn’t impressed. If anything, I was livid.

“Depending on the order of things, this is how we’ve ultimately agreed on the Rules between our three groups,” said Oberon. “What the blues pick doesn’t matter. They enact minor Rules that help the population. They created Runes and Arcworks with their Rules. All that matters are the yellows. If they go first, counter their Rule. Their position is that they do not want to alter the current system in any meaningful way. If you go before them, however, ask for a Faith system. Those revered in society would then accumulate excess mana from those who follow them. Faith would act as a conduit, siphoning surplus to their icons and institutions. The yellows should agree with that, and if they do, they’ll try to enact a Rule they’ve been pushing for the past few rounds: using mana to tame living beings. Distasteful power, really, but we’d use it, just as they’ll use our Faith concept.” He paused. “Do you understand?”

I just stared at all of them. The plan was a clock made of other people’s hearts. I couldn’t help myself. “You’re all pathetic.”

Oberon smiled. “I’m sorry you feel that way. Make your decision, then.”

With that, I separated from the table, turned, and warped back to the gathering from before. The yellow‑ and blue‑eyed Chosen stood before me again, as did the two other new Chosen there to select Rules, like me. The air tasted faintly of ozone, as if the room had been holding its breath while we were gone.

“All discussions are now concluded, as each of the new Chosen has mentally assented to a Rule,” said Proxy. She levitated above us as she’d done before. “The decision will be made in order of Ascension, so Milan will go first.”

Proxy gestured to the blue‑eyed Chosen. The gravity of Purgatory seemed to hinge on her. Milan was a small human girl with bright blue eyes, short blonde hair, a delicate figure, and plain linen robes cinched with a blue cord. She smiled kindly at everyone as if she loved them all. The blue‑eyed contingent mirrored her with synchronized, gentle smiles and matching pendants. They didn’t announce a doctrine; they wore it.

If Milan’s going first, then the yellow‑eyed guy is going second, I realized, eyeing him. And I’m last.

“As always, we wish to find it in your heart to allow healing magic to be granted to those of us in the Field,” said Milan. “It would alleviate much suffering in this world.”

“Denied,” said Proxy, voice turned to flint. “That power is reserved only for the Shepherd.”

“I understand,” said Milan without much of a fight. “Then I would like to implement a manufacturing component in everyone’s codex. If the raw materials to create something are stored inside, and the user has the basic instructions or knowledge on how to create it, then their codex should be allowed to fabricate it and create duplicates using their own mana.”

“Accepted. Rule created.”

My mana pulsed beyond my control. A cold lattice clicked into place behind my brain, fitting this information inside me like it had always been there.

“Lars.” Proxy gestured to the yellow‑eyed Chosen before me. “Your Rule.”

Lars looked to be in his thirties, but he had the eyes of a sixty-year-old. For all I knew, the process of becoming Chosen might revert you to a younger age. Everyone around me, at most, looked mid-thirties, so I assumed that was the case. Given all it took to become Chosen, there was no way a human could do it without immense luck and time. I was an outlier.

He looked me dead in the eyes and said, “I wish for those classified as Devils to lose their ability to reproduce.”

“Accepted,” said Proxy.

Again, our magic pulsed, and inside I knew that I had lost something. The ache was phantom and precise, like a door sealed in a house I still lived in.

It was clear the Yellows wanted to waste this round of Rule-making, given they offered a Rule that no sane devil would leave unchallenged. It balanced their ledger without changing the world. An absolute waste of power. A performance of control.

“Our newest arrival, Yen.” Proxy looked at me with a soft smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Your Rule.”

I felt the immediate need to counter Lars’s Rule, but a voice drifted into my head.

Repeat the Rule I’m about to say. Please. It’s the final step. With it, I guarantee a better world. Proxy—no, Eve’s—voice rang in my skull, distinct and clear, braided with an emotion I’d never felt from her.

I bit my lip, looked at her, and nodded slightly.

Proxy smiled. Her Rule arrived in my mind like a key being turned.

I smiled, too, before saying, “I wish to end the process of Rule creation from this point forward.”

“Accepted.”

The shock radiating through the assembly felt like needles of ice stabbing into my skin. Hostility flared behind and before me. Only the blue‑eyed group remained lenient, but even they looked at me with the measured grief people wear for a dying thing they cannot save.

“With our Rules selected, we move on to the selection of a Shepherd.” Proxy whisked out her hands. Milan, Lars, and I shot backward. The tables behind each of us opened, accepted us, and slotted us beside our matching groups.

Suddenly, I was in a line of six with the other red-eyed Chosen I’d called pathetic mere moments ago…and completely defied them with my actions.

“The floor is open for your group discussion,” said Proxy. “The Shepherd can be selected by a life-or-death battle royale between the current Chosen in your Field or by unanimous consent this moment. Discuss.”

“We prefer to pick someone here and now.” Oberon stood immediately. He pointed at me without glancing in my direction and looked to Zion. “The choice is clear. We must nominate this one. Are we in agreement?”

Zion, leader of the yellow-eyed, stared at me. He had a dashing, heroic look—broad shoulders, sharp jaw, perfect hair—and a sense of self-worth so bright it haloed him. He examined me like a man reading a receipt, then turned to Oberon. “If you are fine with the loss. Her Rule can still be rescinded if we kill her. She doesn’t need to be a Shepherd for us to do that.”

“Why waste the effort killing more than one person? Besides, I have someone I’ve been preparing to take her place. She was an accident. Her death would mean nothing to me.” Oberon finally deigned to glare at me. “Her life is unnecessary for my plans and utterly worthless in the air it consumes.”

“My heart.” I touched my chest. “How it breaks.”

Everyone at the red‑eyed table glared. I nearly laughed.

“Ezekiel, you pacifist fuck,” Oberon called over to the blue‑eyed table. “What say you?”

Ezekiel had long brown hair tied in a topknot and light stubble. Blood stained his robes as if he had just left a surgery. A smile softened his mouth even under insult. His blue eyes made him look kinder still. “If that is what the majority agrees upon, we shall as well.”

“As expected.” Oberon looked right at Proxy. “We nominate…what is your name, girl?” he asked at last, turning to me.

“Yennifer.”

“Yennifer. We nominate Yennifer to be our Shepherd.”

“Do we have the assent of everyone else by unanimous consent?” asked Proxy. “Please, raise your hands if you affirm this choice.”

Seventeen hands rose into the air. Even the ones who despised the sight of me moved as one.

“Very well.” Proxy looked at me. A devious, evil smile leached across her face as she looked around the room. It melted into pure beauty when it landed on me. “Welcome, Shepherd.”

She snapped her fingers, and suddenly I was standing below her, alone, in the middle of everyone else.

I lifted into the sky before her. When we were but a breath’s distance apart, she plunged her hand into my stomach.

My belly filled with fire. My very form shifted and changed.

The horns in my head shrank, as did my ears. I felt my skin and eyes burn. My blood bubbled, and my skeleton shook. The black hair at my shoulders turned white in an instant. It felt as if my essence were being rewritten line by line.

Then the pain and power stopped. Proxy removed her hand, took a step back, and wiped her palm through the air. She sliced the sky. Water gathered into a mirror‑still pool so clear I could see my reflection.

I’d turned into a completely different person. The essence of who I was before was still there in parts, but I’d changed. My horns were gone, as were my elongated ears, now human‑short. My entire body was that of a human’s. My skin was free of blemishes, and every wound had vanished. The black hair I’d seen every day was stark white like snow. I had both my eyes again, and they’d changed colors. They looked like a night sky flecked with every color of paint, and that paint had become stars.

The water went away, and I was looking at Proxy again. The warmth radiating from her nearly made me blush, as if she were a hearth and I had been left too long in winter.

Slowly, I drifted down until I was level with all the tables again.

Proxy floated down and clapped her hands together. “With that, the selection process has been concluded. Thank you all for your input and efforts today.”

I felt the sting of Oberon’s gaze behind me. I turned to see him looking at me like a cat stalking a bird. “The whole might of Paradise will be coming for you, girl.”

“Let it be known that the entire Fey continent is your enemy,” conveyed Queen Tedaya. Her voice never rose, which somehow made it worse.

“Word will be spread among the Fey that you are a traitor to our kind and must be killed,” added King Vorrkhan. Claws ticked once against the table like a gavel.

“Step one foot in the ocean and we’ll drown you,” said Queen Tedaya. “So stay where you are, like a good little girl, until we get you.”

“Which shouldn’t take long,” finished King Freeborn. “I rule the skies. My people will be out in force trying to find you.”

“The Pantheon will officially declare you an enemy of humanity,” said Zion from his place with the Voiced. “The Pope will issue a proclamation tomorrow condemning your presence on the Human Continent, and the Holy King will anoint the Seekers and Voiced to end your life.”

“We offer you no ill will,” said Ezekiel. “And we apologize for this turn of events. Truly.” He stood and bowed to me. “May you find peace in the time you have remaining.”

The pure animosity and certainty of my death drew shivers down my spine. As soon as I left this space, the world would be my enemy. Even the silence agreed.

Laughter suddenly filled the room.

It was Proxy.

Everyone stared as the divine beauty curled forward, clutching her stomach, the noise from her throat like bells struck underwater.

“What’s happening?” one of the Voiced whispered. The grid‑light trembled.

Two black hands opened Proxy’s mouth wide, unhinging her jaw like a snake. Gasps skittered around the tables.

Proxy sank to the ground as Eve, in all her faceless, mannequin-like glory, crawled out of Proxy’s throat like a parasite freeing itself of its host. When her feet cleared the body, she plunged her hand into the back of Proxy’s neck like a puppeteer and lifted her to standing again. The same dead look I’d seen in Proxy’s eyes when Eve first attacked her remained.

“Better!” Eve looked around the room, twirling in a circle around me with Proxy still on her arm. “You are just as stupid as you always were! Hahaha! I did it! You bastards are dead! All dead!”

“Who are you?!” shouted Zion.

“Aww, sweety. You don’t remember me?” Eve swished forward, facing Zion. “My face may be gone, but my body still looks the same. You’ve seen it so many times, I’m surprised you don’t recognize it.”

Zion flinched. “Remi?”

“In the flesh!”

“Bullshit!” Zion slammed his fist into his table. “You were dead! We killed you!”

“You thought you did,” said Eve, no, Remi. “Yet here I am! I’ve been waiting sooooo long for this! You have no idea.”

The Chosen erupted into overlapping shouts.

Remi ignored them, pitching her voice over the noise. “There is so much I wish to say to you all, yet so little time! So I won’t waste the effort!” Glee rang in her words. “You see, our little friend Yennifer here already knows what happens when I stay in this realm for far too long. And I’ve more than outstayed my welcome this time. Everyone here will die unless they’re tied to some sort of Divinity. Like you’re a Shepard or got yourself a Proxy as a shield.” She shook Proxy like a doll. “Then your souls won’t survive annihilation in this realm.” She spun slowly, grinning, taking in every table. “But for everyone else? No such luck. No protection. No going back. Ahhh, you’re all gonna die!”

A massive hand, bigger than a planet, broke out of the sky, its shadow spilled over Purgatory like nightfall.

Everyone looked up and froze when they saw it. Even the light seemed to hold its breath.

Remi pulled my face down until I was looking at her. “When you emerge back in your world, dodge left. I mean it.” She hugged me. “Good girl. You did amazing.” She pulled back. “I’ll explain more on the other side.”

Suddenly, she kissed me, sticking her tongue down my throat. Heat and salt and certainty.

The other Chosen screamed in defiance as the giant hand came down to crush us.

I felt myself fall below the threshold of Purgatory as everything else was destroyed in one deafening crunch of that hand.