Chapter 150. The End of Everything

Holiday points behind me. “Dunai, follow the compass to the exact spot the threshold is weakest. Then I want both of you to try sundering it with your hands.”

I hold up the compass and walk a few steps forward until the needle is rotating back and forth. “It’s here.”

“Sezakuin first,” Holiday says.

Maria comes forward and gives me a look. I cough once, then move a few steps to the right, Maria taking my place. She focuses her gaze on the empty air, then ponderously raises her right hand. She brings it down in a diagonal chop as she exhales, a flash of blue slicing the sky. I can see a sliver of the green world beyond before the rift closes.

“That was...something, but a bit different than how I did it earlier. Do you remember?”

Maria narrows her eyes and refocuses her attention. She forms her hand into a claw, then rakes it down over the sky, ripping a jagged hole. The aroma of flowers wafts forth, and I can see much more of the jungle beyond.

Holiday nods. “Better. Dunai, take a stab at it. Pun intended!”

Maria’s lips quirk into the smallest of grins at Holiday’s remark. She steps away, her eyes fixing on me.

I suddenly realize that I don’t know how to replicate my previous success.

“Dunai?” Holiday prompts.

I sigh and hold out my hand in a claw, then try to bring it down across the sky like Maria.

Nothing happens.

“I’m not sure what I should be doing,” I confess.

“If you’ve manifested ascendant energy once, the next time will be far easier,” Holiday notes.

I try explaining some of my frustration: “Once I awakened my decemancy, my progression was smooth: I never faced a bottleneck. Using Death was...instinctual. Wielding ascendant energy doesn’t feel the same to me.”

Maria snorts. “Have you forgotten how it was in the very beginning?”

I cock my head. “Excuse me?”

“After awakening decemancy, you struggled for days trying to figure out how to use it on command.”

I frown. “Really?”

Her mouth narrows in distaste. “Really. I watched that footage from the Infinity Loop myself. To be fair, after those first few days your progress really was unimpeded.”

Perhaps my lack of control over ascendant energy doesn’t suggest a lack of talent after all.

Maria addresses Holiday: “How long does it normally take people to use ascendant energy after arriving here?”

Holiday shrugs. “A few hours. You were certainly quicker than most, Dunai about average, but it’s like reading: Just because you start earlier doesn’t mean you’ll read better or faster in a few years.”

I take in a deep breath and ignore their chatter, focusing instead on the empty sky and my right hand.

This place...I’m not sure it’s the haven I thought it would be. But maybe that’s the inspiration I’m looking for: The desire to transcend this plane and venture into the next, moving ever onward.

I rake the air with a clawed fist, a dense shower of white-blue sparks flaring around my fingers. I feel the world itself beginning to part like wet paper and I stick my hand through into the jungle beyond.

I freeze when the aperture begins to close around my wrist. With a grunt I bring my other hand over and rip the hole wider, using both hands to peel the world back. Pinching it between my fingers, I’m able to stave off the rift’s collapse, though the resistance continues to mount as time ticks on. After a few seconds the force is too much and the peeled petals of sky snap into place, slicing into my hands. I recoil back and cradle them to my chest, stymying the bleeding with my practice.

Maria’s expression is somber, a trace of concern visible in her features. A moment later she snaps out of her thoughtful spell, evidently remembering just whose hands were injured: Those of her nemesis. She turns away and shakes her head as though trying to dismiss idle thoughts.

“They’re a bit worse for wear,” I admit, my eyes glancing down to the lake of blood at my feet. The vessels in my wrists are nearly all severed through; if I didn’t have practice using decemancy to repair them, I’d probably bleed out without other medical attention. “I’ll be fine, though. If you’ve seen the loop footage you should know that I’ve personally severed and reattached my own hand before.”

“Dunai, step aside so Sezakuin can go again.” Holiday leverages his gaze at Maria. “Don’t make Dunai’s mistake of letting the rift close on you, for obvious reasons. You’re no healer.”

Maria steps into my place, then drops into what seems like a martial stance, her hips and shoulders squared. She takes in a deep breath, then shoots her arms forward as she exhales, both hands slipping into the veil and tearing it apart. Before it gets the chance to rejuvenate, Maria twists and draws in her arms, landing a drop kick on the gaping hole. Her boot flares blue and forms a rip all the way to the ground.

“Don’t go in yet,” Holiday cautions.

Maria’s head snaps around. “Why not? I tore it open.”

“Remember that when we go to the other side, you’re going to have one chance. If you falter, you’ll be gone.”

My flesh knits together just in time for the veil to repair itself, pieces of the sky sloughing inward and melting together.

“I appreciate the caution, but won’t you be helping us on the other side?”

Holiday shakes his head. “I’ve helped you more than I was supposed to based on the...conditions that sent you here.”

“If we stay in Vizier’s Crown, how long could you remain?” I ask.

“Twelve more hours. I’m willing to stay awake, but you two are exhausted. For that reason alone I’d recommend waiting until you get some rest before entering the next plane.”

I glance at Maria. She’s covered in still-drying sweat, her hair a mess, her brow furrowed. Her cheeks are sunken and the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes are dark and deep, gray-tinged vitality gray coursing through her vessels.

I know I don’t look nearly as bad, but I am exhausted. I feel like I’ve endured a month without rest.

I draw out the few bones remaining in my void storage and form them into three rough chairs, then ease myself into one of them. I gesture out with my hands in invitation.

Holiday gingerly slides into one, crossing his legs and placing his hands in his lap. Maria looks at the chair in distaste–whether it’s because it’s a chair made of bone or a chair made by me, I’m not certain. She sighs but walks forward and practically falls into the chair with a grunt, her limbs going slack.

“I have a question, Crimson Teeth,” I begin. “You mentioned that Ascendant Ari is–was–a zealot, that she indoctrinated new ascendants. What did you mean?”

He leans to the side, chin resting on the back of his hand. The snake slithers up from the ground and onto Holiday’s lap, hissing its tongue at his chest.

“Ari and Achemiss had diametrically opposed views on the purpose of Eternity and the finite worlds. I don’t agree with either of them–I consider myself a moderate–but they possessed the ambition to prove their philosophy correct.”

Maria looks up from the ground. “Do you think that Achemiss took their quarrel too far?”

“No. If you believe as they do, it makes sense.”

I run a hand through my hair. “...And what do they believe, exactly?”

“What has Achemiss told you in your communications?” Holiday asks.

I stare blankly. Not very much. “He showed me a vision of Ari ravaging the Selejan continent, of Zukal’iss burning. Told me the fate of my family and...friend.”

Holiday’s smile is playful. “Did he say anything about how he knew you were going to ascend in the first place?”

“He did mention the Infinity Loop experiment, said he felt...a flux of souls from it. I’m still not sure what he meant in retrospect, given that Achemiss is here. If even bonds of fate are severed between Eternity and our old world...”

Holiday nods his head slowly. “Ascendants remain connected to their old world; it’s how they can return with a beacon where others must be launched, then descend by their own strength. Let me ask a key driving question behind Achemiss’ and Ari’s factions: What is the value of a world?”

Maria and I are both silent as we ponder the question. Holiday looks between the two of us before continuing. “A world begins, and eventually...ends. Is it best for a world to last as long as possible, or extinguish itself early?”

Maria shakes her head, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “By what measure are you calculating value?”

“The number of ascendants who come to Eternity, of course. As far as I’m aware, the closest thing to an eternal, infinite realm in the cosmos is Eternity. Given that all else ends, the question of how best to end worlds is worth considering. If a world’s denizens are peaceful and treat their environment well, their world may last...but the lack of conflict means that ascendants will be less likely to arise. On the flip side, if a world is ravaged by destruction, there may be more people driven to enlightenment, but the world will likely end earlier.”

I can tell Holiday is dumbing down this issue...a lot. “It sounds like a simple calculation to make,” I retort. “Rates and times. Based on how peaceful a world is, what is the rate of ascension? And how long will the world persist before ending?” The scale of what we’re talking about suddenly hits me. This is on the scale of millions, possibly billions of years. I have no idea how long my world will last, but I can’t really fathom it coming to an end anytime soon. What kind of calamity would it take for everything and everyone to dwindle and die out?

“How do worlds come into being?” Maria murmurs.

“Remember what I said about Eternity being a land of symbiosis: We need Eternity to grow, and in turn...Eternity needs us.”

“...To create worlds?”

“To dream. That’s my understanding, though I haven’t been here truly long enough to probe the ascendant world’s secrets. The farther you venture, the more you experience and grow...the more you’ll know.” Holiday chuckles. “I, too, am still learning.”

Maria sits up in her seat. “Why did Achemiss decide to attack Ari on our world?”

“Because his connection to it gives him power. Ari may have known Achemiss was from your world, but she didn’t think he’d be brazen enough to move against her.”

“But...I think we’ve circled back to an originating question: How did Achemiss know Ari was being sent to judge me in the first place? How did he know of the Infinity loop?”

“He was watching his old world, I presume. Looking for major disturbances.”

Holiday’s words are disquieting. Me ascending wasn’t the major disturbance that grabbed Achemiss’ attention initially. It was the Infinity Loop.

Ari seemed disgusted by the Infinity Loop, even called me a false ascendant presumably because I ascended within one. I can remember the warning she uttered just a few hours ago to Maria: “You play with what you don’t understand. If you aren’t careful, your carelessness will destroy everything.”

Achemiss, on the other hand...spoke of the Infinity Loop almost fondly.

I take in a rough breath. “Let me hazard a guess: Achemiss believes worlds should burn short and bright.”

“Correct.”

I lock eyes with Maria, her eyes a mirror of my concern.

“Why would something like the Infinity Loop...accelerate the end of a world?” she asks.

Holiday’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “The kind of simulation you’re talking about engenders sentiments of leaving a false world behind, the exact kind of thoughts people need to internalize to ascend. There’s a reason why you’re the youngest ascendant to come from your world, Dunai. Talent, surely–but also, the simulation.”

“More people are going to ascend, then–that seems like a good thing,” Maria observes.

“Too many powerful people will tear the world apart, but more fundamentally...the technology of the Infinity Loop will corrupt your world’s souls. Once the corruption reaches a critical point, there will be no return from swift decline.”

“It’s just a dilation chamber,” Maria insists. “It uses an obscene amount of energy. How do you know it corrupts souls as well?”

Holiday gestures to me. “Dunai must have seen with his own eyes.”

“The Infinity Loop ruins souls, Maria,” I explain. “Ruptures and melts them, the corruption spreading like contagion. I saw it myself.”

Her jaw is slack, gaze tilted toward the ground. “How could no one notice? It’s ludicrous that a global disaster was brewing and no one knew.”

I laugh bitterly. “Necromancy is banned–everywhere. Who would see?” And even if necromancers were commonplace, soul sight isn’t easy to obtain. “But I’m hopeful things will turn around. Euryphel knows that the Infinity Loop needs to be destroyed.”

Maria chews her lip. “But we’re only using the technology; a Sere company invented it. The Crowned Prime’s influence will be limited, even if he unites Ho’ostar under one banner.”

“Remember that all worlds end,” the snake consoles, its tail playing with a stray lock of Holiday’s hair. “Even if yours is doomed today, it won’t truly crumble until later, when everyone you know is gone.”

“I think it’s best you both get rest,” Holiday adds. “At the end of the day, there’s little you can do to change things. You’ve left your old world behind: Act like it.”