The Newt and Demon - Chapter 5.2 - Procession of Souls

None of the areas within Tero’gal were named. Despite the residents’ relatively long time here, they just hadn’t bothered. Theo soaked his feet in the cool waters of a lake that spanned as far as he could see. The nameless lake was a refuge within the realm, providing some much needed solitude away from the demands of the town. He had even dodged Benton on his way here. All that remained was the rustling of leaves nearby, and the gentle gurgle of a nearby stream.

Resting in his palm was a sample of [Wheat]. Magically generated, or magically transported to this place, the crop had always taunted Theo. A reminder of the old world, or a helping hand in the new one. It was always impossible to tell which it was. There were versions of the plant grown here, but the system recognized those as [Ansatari Wheat]. But this sample was unchanged by the world. Protected in the realm, it had remained as it was on Earth.

When the alchemist broke the reagent down with his [Reagent Deconstruction] ability, the results didn’t surprise him. Neither did the Wisdom notification. He pinched the stalk between his fingers, twirling it as he inspected the item’s description.

[Wheat]

[Alchemy Ingredient] [Food]

Common

A common plant often milled into flour.

Properties:

[Healing] [Regeneration] [Sow]

The [Sow] property was what he needed. Even without the helpful windows, he knew it would impart the land with the [Hallow Ground] effect. Yet he remained by the lake. Alone with his thoughts. He wished he could see through the realms as proficiently as his companion, Tresk. But he knew even she couldn’t see what their friend Fenian was up to. If he needed help, he was on his own. The swarthy elf could take care of himself. Right?

“Ah, there you are.”

The familiar voice came with the padding of spectral feet over soft ground. Belgar came to sit next to Theo, lowering himself onto a rock and offering a faded smile. It was the soul of his body’s original inhabitant. By the day, his form was more complete. But it was still transparent. The features weren’t right, either. The man was making a new form for himself.

“I’ll toss you a gold coin if you tell me what you’re thinking about,” the spirit said.

“I tried not to think about it. But we were right about the wheat.” Theo held up the reagent to punctuate his words.

“Now we need to brew it,” Belgar said, clapping a hand on his back. “You’re not always this dour, are you?”

“Not always,” Theo said, pushing himself to his feet. “You’re right. This is exciting. I’m excited.”

Belgar grabbed Theo by the shoulders and shook him. “Exciting! Let’s walk back to the village.”

The places between the vast lake and the village the spirits had built was vast. It wasn’t a distance that a person would normally walk. But both time and distance meant different things in a realm. The journey went by in what felt like moments. But the duo had covered a vast distance by foot. They passed through rolling hills, jagged ravines, and other picturesque landscapes. All to find themselves among the wandering spirits of the realms. Refugees of the void.

Each spirit that passed the master of the realm waved with excitement. By the day, they were becoming more solid. More a part of Tero’gal. But the few pieces of equipment Theo had brought from the mortal realm weren’t great. Four stills, old and underperforming compared to those high-tech things waiting for him back in the lab. But they would do just fine for a quick experiment.

Belgar was already preparing the minimum run for the stills. 10 units of the [Wheat] went into a still, along with an equal measure of [Enchanted Water]. They had enough [Refined Hallow Ground Essence] to drown the sea at this point, so it wasn’t required to make more. The fumes from the distillation smelled right. This felt like the path he needed to take to purge the tainted soil.

“We’re talking truly industrial levels of the potion here,” Theo said. “Ten thousand units of cheese, wheat, and enchanted water. Might even push a fourth tier potion if we try.”

Belgar drummed his fingers on the hot still, not seeming to notice it should have burned him. “Your lab has the capacity. But how long will the suffuse potions take to bake?”

Theo chuckled. That was a good way to put it. All suffuse potions needed time to ‘cook.’ The time required for them to complete varied depending on the rarity of the ingredients. Truffles, cheese, and wheat weren’t the rarest things the alchemist had worked with. “Shouldn’t be bad. I’ll brew them on the mortal plane, then let them steep here.”

Time really was difficult to understand in Tero’gal. Originally, the [Tero’gal Dreampassage] ability let him visit the realm for twelve hours. Now it was something like eighteen to twenty hours. Still, only five minutes passed on the mortal plane. That brought with it a confusing sense of disorientation that was always impossible to shake. Enough hours slipped away from Theo’s grasp for the distillation to complete. There were no complications with the [Refined Sow Essence] and nothing to note about the item itself.

Belgar watched with pride as Theo forced his mana into two vials of essence, breaking them down into their primal version. The next step was to take the powdered essence and introduce it to a solution with the [Suffuse Potion]. If the essences didn’t work together, the potion would simply explode. But as the alchemist introduced both the [Primal Sow Essence] and the [Primal Hallow Ground Essence] to the mix, they bound without issue. He then stepped back, cocking an eyebrow.

“Huh. It feels like they’ll only take a few hours to combine.” Theo leaned close, tapping the side of the flask. “I’m still concerned about industrial production.”

A sense of deep cold shivered through the realm. Theo flinched at first, then turned expectantly. An archway of icy stone rose from the ground. It filled itself with a pane of clear ice before the massive form of Benton, the Toora God of Winter and Death stepped through. As always, he had a fanged smile on his face and a booming belly laugh of standby.

“Tried to dodge me!” he shouted, his laugh carrying throughout the entire realm. “You know I wouldn’t let you get away without my sweets.”

“I was busy.”

“Busy busy busy. He’s always busy,” Benton said, slapping Theo hard enough on the back to send him tumbling forward. “Come on. Tea time.”

Benton always made the best tea. His scones were equally delicious. Despite his title as the God of Winter and Death, he was the sweetest person Theo knew. He had learned that the title was mostly related to the seasons and had little to do with killing people. People that died in snow storms often found themselves in his realm. The toora set up his kettle in the small cottage and got to brewing tea.

“I guess your plan worked,” Benton said. “What few souls have entered my realm talk about a new star rising. Well, I guess he’s an old star.”

Theo nodded. That was always going to be the end of Fenian’s journey. “Balkor,” he said, pausing for a moment. “I’m not sure what I think about it. I had a hand in resurrecting the Demon God of Necromancy.”

“Life to life, death to undeath,” Belgar said, nodding. His eyes were locked on the brewing kettle. Everyone loved Benton’s tea.

“That’s an old saying.” Benton noticed the confused expression on Theo’s face. “Necromancy is neither good nor evil. It’s a natural force.”

“Seems like a lie to me. Considering the corrupted soil north of my alliance.”

“Consider this,” Benton swirled the tea kettle, spilling a small amount onto the ground through the spout. He didn’t move to clean it up. “The necromantic energy left behind by Balkor didn’t go anywhere. It remained in the ruined kingdom.”

“It was bound to escape,” Belgar said.

“Fenian just pushed forward the schedule?” Theo asked, clicking his tongue. “I think it’s more likely he intentionally spread the energy, then expected me to clean it up.”

“You are cleaning it up, aren’t you?” Benton asked, raising one furry brow.

“That’s besides the point.” Theo gestured to the empty section of table in front of him. “And where’s my scones? I’m addicted, Benton. You need to provide me with the object I desire.”

The bear god laughed, then plucked a wicker basket out of the air. He set it on the table, uncovering the delicious treasure within. Theo went straight for the lemon-flavored ones, setting it before him and licking his lips. His opinion of Fenian’s actions didn’t matter. There was a job to do, and he would do it.

“Enough posturing,” Belgar said, snatching a treat of his own. “How is your realm, Benton?”

“Oh! The domes are done. Everyone was very excited to get out of the cold. But we realized something. They need the cold to survive.”

“That’s irony. Right?” Theo asked.

“Uh… No,” Belgar said. “That just sucks.”

There were unwritten rules in Tero’gal’s cottage. Conversations about ‘work’ were to be kept to a minimum. Tea was always to be served. If sweet treats were available, they were to be provided to everyone gathered. And if the Arbiter showed up, everyone was required to play poker. Theo didn’t write the rules, he just followed them. The conversation that followed strayed further from business by the moment. Until the group was sharing stories about their old lives.

Theo, Belgar, and Benton all had something in common. They had died. Theo’s old body was destroyed by his planet’s sun before he was rescued by a benevolent being. Belgar fell off a cliff, and no one knows what happened to his body after that. Benton gave up his mortal body to ascend to the heavens, claiming a new realm as his own. They were a triumvirate of weird individuals.

Hours rolled on as they drank tea, ate sweets, and talked about nothing at all. These were times where Theo was at his best. Neither alchemist noticed when the potion outside completed. They didn’t even realize it until Benton had left to return to his realm.

“That’s a lovely surprise!” Belgar said. “Good guess.”

Theo inspected the potion, nodding with approval.

[Hallow the Soil]

[Potion]

Epic

Created by: Theo Spencer

Grade: Good Quality

Alignment:

Drogramath (Middling Bond)

Purify any naturally occurring soil of all alignment-based befoulment.

This was big. Theo’s first thought was that he would need to hybridize plants to make this work. But that was a skill outside of his reach. Instead, his research into suffuse potions had proven fruitful. There were still problems about the scale of production. There were thousands of miles of land that needed to be scoured clean. Without a way to deliver the potion without getting his people sick, it was impossible to carry out the task.

Belgar chatted for a while, trying to come up with good ideas. Theo wasn’t certain any of them would work. He suggested everything from launching the potions from catapults, to strapping tanks to trained wolves. The only idea that appealed to the alchemist was the airship. And that was a way off.

“Alright,” Theo said. “Fingers crossed. I’m going to return to Broken Tusk to test the potion.”

Belgar formed a cross with either pointer finger, grinning and nodding with excitement. “They’re crossed!”

Theo let himself drift through the realms before he could correct the excited dronon. The scene swirled before his eyes, smearing for a moment before dragging into darkness. A familiar pull tugged at his ankles, and he let it take him. The Queen of the Bridge of Shadows was attempting to interdict him through the realms. Shadows swirled where darkness once was. Until a bridge appeared. It spanned in either direction forever. Dotted with pale gray lights, washing everything in monochrome, the Bridge was always intimidating. Moreso today, thanks to the procession of faceless figures that marched over the shadows.

Theo landed among those people. None looked up at him. They all marched on, each step falling at the same time. A shiver ran down the alchemist’s spine as the shadows gathered, revealing little of Uz’Xulven’s form.

“You don’t call. You don’t write! Theo, I thought we were allies.”

Uz’Xulven always had a monotone voice to match her monochrome world. But today, there was a tone of forced excitement in her voice.

“What’s up?”

“Just some information. Fenian succeeded in his task. He has assumed the throne.”

“Where’s the hidden ‘but?’”

“But he’s dying.”

Theo let his mind spiral outward. Fenian wouldn’t have engaged Karasan if he couldn’t win. No mortal wounds could have killed him. The elf was packed to the gills with enough healing potions to support an army. There was only one thing he could think of. Betrayal. Balkor must have performed a soul slaying after he came back, forcing the elven duelist on his knees. Yeah, there were a lot of gods that wanted him on their side.

“Can you take something to him? Something created on the mortal plane?”

“Of course!”

From his inventory, Theo withdrew a [Reforge Soul] potion. It would remake the elf’s soul from the ground up, removing all wounds Balkor could have inflicted. The recovery time wasn’t good. And it hurt like hell. “Slip this to him if you can,” the alchemist said, holding the potion out.

A shadowy hand reached out, plucking the potion. “Oh, you’re devious. Think Balkor smote his soul?”

“There’s no way Karasan got the better of him. So, yeah. Since Drogramath didn’t help me when I asked, I’m assuming gods can’t or won’t cure a soul slaying.”

“You’re correct. We won’t. Against the new rules.”

“Hmmm.” Theo turned his attention outward, back to the mortal realm. “I need to go.”

“Wait! Don’t you want to know about these dapper individuals?” Uz’Xulven asked.

This was the part where Theo normally left without another word. He didn’t like Uz’Xulven, but there was an opportunity. When a patron formed their realm, they did so specifically. Each realm was partly a reflection of their personality. But it was also a specialized thing, meant to accomplish a specific goal. The Bridge had been created to literally bridge the realms, giving people access to both the heavenly realms and the mortal plane. Instead of hurtling through the void like Theo did, they could cross the Bridge. This was great for souls who were stuck in the void, or headed to their eternal resting place. But recent developments made it less useful. Which represented an opportunity.

“Who are they?”

“I’m so glad you asked. Recently slain mortals without a realm to call their own. Balkor is causing a stink, so they have nowhere to go. Hmmm, I wonder if there’s a realm that could benefit from a sudden influx of souls.”

“Are you sending them to Tero’gal?”

“Oh, I could.”

“Is there a price?”

“Ah, well. Hold on.” Even under the mask of shadows, Theo could see her screwing her face up. “I did that in the wrong order. You were supposed to trade the souls for the potion.”

Theo shrugged. “Then our business is done, Uz’Xulven.” He paused for a long moment as his thoughts spread through adjacent realms. “Something is going to happen, isn’t it? A war?”

Uz’Xulven laughed, politely covering her mouth. Even though no one could see her mouth through the shadows. “Sharp as ever. Another ascendancy war, if you can believe it. We’re hoping for your support in the coming conflict.”

“I don’t involve myself in wars.”

“What if war comes to your doorstep?”

“Then we’ll respond.”

“Good enough! Oh, I’ve wanted to do this for a while. What with how you constantly leave while I’m talking,” Uz’Xulven said, letting out a contented sigh. “Begone.”

Theo felt something snatch at his midsection, then hurl him through the realms. He broke through the membrane of reality near the void’s edge, then continued to fall until he saw the mortal realm. It took more effort than he would care to admit to steer himself in the right direction, but Tresk provided an excellent anchor point. Moments later, he snapped back into the mortal realm with a faint pop.

“Oh!” Tresk let out a surprised sound. “Thought you were going back to where you came.”

Theo was standing knee-deep in mud. He grimaced, looking out over the vast swamp. “Ugh, what are you doing out here?”

“Patrol day!” Tresk said, hugging Theo’s mid-section. She left behind a mud stain. “How did it go?”

“We have a potion.”

“Oh, sweet! Let’s get back to town. Watch your step, I think there’s some turtles under here.”

Something clamped onto the alchemist’s toe and shook its head. As he pitched over, falling face-first into the mud, he cursed the name of the Queen of the Bridge of Shadows.