Chapter 299. Stages of Descent

When we enter the next round, we aren’t immediately transported to Bresnir’s world. Instead, we find ourselves in the Hall of Ascension. Holiday–or a version of him–leans against one of the pillars in the main hall, his arms crossed against his chest.

“When you descend for your first assignment, you should expect two distinct phenomena.” A thick, soupy darkness suddenly envelops the surroundings. Holiday walks along the only source of light, an illuminated path made of white and gold mosaic tiles. Red and I follow along, unable to control our bodies. I can’t actively use my Death affinity.

We’re pupils receiving a lesson–observers.

Holiday snaps his fingers and the darkness fades, revealing a tapestry of stars. It feels like nothing exists between us and the vast, star-specked emptiness.

“The first phenomenon is rejection,” Holiday says. “Eternity exists as a place between all places, a nexus of nowhere and everywhere. Some describe it as the great dream. The stars we see lie out of reach–when you leave this place on your own power, you’ll eventually find yourself elsewhere, under unfamiliar stellar lights.”

We zoom forward as though standing on a fast-moving platform. Without air resistance, I feel nothing to mark our passage. The only landmark is the Hall of Ascension disappearing behind me, sensed only through my passive vital perception. The large keep shrinks to the size of a pebble after only seconds of movement.

Holiday turns back to us as we race toward the unreachable stars. “When you leave Eternity for a world not your own, you are an interloper. Reality itself rejects you, stifling your power.”

Time jumps forward. The stars are all different. Before us is a blueish planet, rendered small by the distance.

“There is a second phenomenon that happens to ascendants even when they return to their original worlds. When separated from Eternity, the boons that we enjoy as ascendants–for instance, an un-aging body, access to the intention matrix, and ascendant energy–fade. Eternity’s influence lingers within us, tenuous, until it eventually wears away. This is called severance.”

Holiday waves to us and disappears. Perhaps he only falls behind, I can’t tell: We’re moving too fast. I plummet toward the planet. Red’s eyes are wide as he falls to my right. As we approach the sphere, I see its orbiting moon and can discern the contours of its continents. We’re moving faster than should be possible.

Holiday’s voice returns, sounding incredibly close, like he’s just behind me. He isn’t. “An ascendant on their home world naturally generates ascendant energy. But on foreign realms of existence, an ascendant relies on their connection to Eternity for their power. And when their connection to Eternity dissipates, aside from their superior experience and skill, they are no different from practitioners at the pinnacle.

“They are vulnerable.

“Therefore, an ascendant is very much on a timer when they descend to mortal worlds to judge half-step ascendants.”

The voice cuts out with a sharp aspirated hiss on the “S.” Ascendant energy courses through me and my stomach drops as I suddenly regain control of my body and choke on the empty void. A feeling of wrongness comes upon me, at once a terrible pressure and a potent tearing. Exacerbating the pain, space’s cold sears my skin.

I reflexively wield decemancy to encompass myself in pressurized tendrils of inky Death. Without ascendant energy to help, it’s insufficient to create a full pressure and temperature seal. And without a compensating artifact to provide oxygen and protect my body from the void, I’ll suffocate. My lungs protest the lack of air and my mind grows hazy.

Holiday’s voice returns. “Welcome to Discardia. You are on level four. You are descending toward planet X. Please activate your impact module to visualize the site of ascension.”

“Impact module?” Red asks, his thoughts frantic. He must not have been able to run scenarios before now.

I summon Death energy tendrils over him, tethering us together. They’re just as ineffectual at pressurizing his body as they are mine, though they’re still better than nothing. Regardless, if we can’t figure out a solution soon, we’ll both die.

I grit my teeth and force my sluggish mind to process both the words of Discardia and Red’s question.

A module… perhaps an artifact?

Something to save us?

My vital vision reveals that we’re both wearing a small clip on the side of our heads; I wouldn’t have noticed it otherwise without a mirror. I tap it gently with my hand and it activates, creating an overlay on my vision. Red follows my lead and activates his own module. It highlights the planet in a red glow at the periphery while covering it in a fine mesh. The grid shimmers once and a flashing arrowhead manifests on the bottom right of the planet.

“We’re going to live,” Red suddenly announces. Without mincing words, he sends memories into my mind, practically shoving them to the forefront of my consciousness. His memories confirm a few key points.

First: we’re supposed to impact the flashing arrow. That’s our descent marker.

Second: we’re better equipped for this descent than we realize. Aside from the impact module, we have artifacts provided by the simulation to keep us alive. We both can summon slim, but tough, dark-gray suits that cover our bodies. The leathery texture melds seamlessly with an air-filled, bubble-like membrane that shimmers into place around our heads when we activate bracelet artifacts on our left wrists.

Red’s memories are both comical and terrifying. In several, he loses control when his arms move by small amounts. As he spins, I see myself flashing into view with every rotation, camouflaged by a cocoon of dark, oily, compressive tendrils that coat my gray suit. When Red flails his arms and activates an artifact that produces force behind him, he completely alters his trajectory, worsening his death spiral. I don’t have a force-producing artifact, so I can’t keep up, and given the difficulty of using it, Red forgoes its use–for now.

Many simulated failures later, Red gains some modicum of control. Only his excessive use of Regret scenarios is enough to compensate for inexperience. I rely on mimicry and the precise control my practice gives me over my body.

As we rapidly approach the planet, Red runs scenarios every few seconds and shares them with me, allowing us to both avoid catastrophic mistakes.

“How are we supposed to survive the impact?” I ask Red. At the speed we’re going, it’ll be a matter of minutes, if not seconds.

“I’m trying to figure that out. We need to produce some kind of counter force or find a way to expend all the energy as we land so it doesn’t kill us. A parachute might work, if we had one.”

“Descents always lead to craters,” I point out. “The initial impact is considered an important part of the test.”

Red mentally sighs. “If I reinforce my limbs with ascendant energy and concentrate combustive force in my legs, I might be able to pull it off without dying.”

“Without ascendant energy, all I have is decemancy.”

“Then I don’t think you’ll survive a forceful impact. Unfortunately, I don’t think we have much of a choice.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

He shoves memories into my head again.

“What the–” I grit my teeth as Red’s future scenarios play in my head. “Oh shit.”

In fifty-five seconds, the planet’s missile defense will make an appearance. I didn’t even realize this planet had such defenses. Red’s planet had them, but his world was advanced enough to colonize other planets. Kyla Bresnir’s planet is more similar to my own.

If we approach the planet at freefall, the missiles reach us in such numbers that we can’t avoid them. Without a Dark practitioner to make us incorporeal, the barrage is lethal.

“We have to go faster,” Red says, his eyes fixed on the descent marker. “I don’t know if this is Bresnir’s doing, or if this planet always responds to incoming ascendants with missiles, but the only way to avoid death is outmaneuvering them.”

“How much faster?”

“As fast as the boosting artifact will take me,” he replies grimly.

“How will we survive reentry?”

“We’ll have to rely on the suits. I’m more concerned about what you’re going to do–you don’t have a booster artifact like mine. I suppose you could grab hold of me…”

“I have wings.” Maria’s cape molds to them like liquid fire. “When I activate Maria’s fire, I’ll blast forward.” Primal fear thrums within me as the planet grows closer. This is only a simulation, but my lizard brain doesn’t know that. My thoughts are sharp, agitated. “Red, can I use them to maneuver around the missiles?”

He doesn’t answer for a moment.

“Red!”

“Yes,” he says, sharing more memories with me. With my wings, I keep pace with Red, though the rocket-like propellant of the flames is less steady than Red’s force-producing artifact. When the missiles reach us, we put on speed, cavorting violently in opposite directions to evade them.

I’ll be guiding you, Maria says. You’re not controlling the wings alone.

You can’t literally control them, I remind her.

But I can instruct you, as I do when you wield my End affinity. Listen closely to everything I tell you.

Red stops sending his memories, likely seeing no point in it until the moment of truth is upon us. Ten more seconds pass, then twenty, then forty… From his scenarios, I know that I won’t see the missile until moments before it impacts me. We’re all going so fast.

“Put on speed,” Red commands.

I extend and point my wings, using my practice to perfectly align my shoulder blades to optimize their position as best I can. When I activate the fiery cape clinging to the under plumage, the flames explode behind me, their heat felt through the protective suit. Maria orders me to make small adjustments to stabilize my trajectory and increase my speed. Red keeps pace, his force artifact glowing iridescently from his back.

“Split!” he commands.

I angle my wings to the side, diving right while Red goes left. The world seems to slow down, my trained reflexes and adrenaline allowing me to see what comes next without the help of Beginning affinity.

The first missile passes cleanly between me and Red, its black shell only visible in the void of space because of the stellar light limning its contours.

It’s similar to artillery variants from our world–smooth, aerodynamic shells containing intricately inscribed oaths, Maria says as it falls away. These variants must be specially equipped for interceding beyond the exosphere. The missiles we used in Selejo had a much more limited range and stayed within the atmosphere.

“Seven more incoming,” Red announces.

A missile streaks by, this one narrowly missing Red. Another comes, also seeking the other ascendant. But the next three go after me.

“Y’jeni, is this what descents are always like?” I wonder, blasting my wings to the left to propel myself further right. The distance between me and Red is large enough that I can barely sense the ascendant’s vitality.

“Your wings look like afterburners when you blast them,” Red thinks. “To the people below, you must seem like a flaming asteroid come to deliver their doom.”

“Not inaccurate,” I point out, grimacing. “The way we’re flying, we’re going to split up, aren’t we?”

“It’s the best chance we have of us both surviving.”

“At these speeds?” I ask, somewhat incredulous. “There’s no way I–or you­–survive this.”

Ascendants are like cockroaches, Maria interjects, addressing both of us. Something tells me that you’ll both find a way.

Easy for you to say, I mentally grumble.

I wait a moment, but Red doesn’t say anything. Red?

He must have gone too far with the last evasive maneuver, Maria says. Now it’s just us.

Just my Death affinity, with no Regret scenarios to help, and my artifacts, none of which seem equipped to help me survive an impact at far faster than the speed of sound.

I’m probably going to die, aren’t I?