The Chimera Summoner – Ch 39 On Death, dying, and other recruiting strategies (part 1/2)

Ch 39–

My arms and ribs were numb.

Which was odd, considering I was dead.

I had felt my neck snap.

I’d felt the moment that those straining muscles had given way to the crushing pressure, my vertebrae separating and the delicate nerves within illuminating my consciousness with one last supernova of pain. One last jolt of adrenaline.

I had even had time to be amused at my body’s final valiant attempt to live, before I had abruptly been plunged into nothingness.

My head pounded, and the small of my back had a definite crick in it, like when I slept with Lucy too far on top of me and woke up horribly stiff.

I felt a surge of resentment in my nothingness. In my deadness.

If this is the afterlife, this is extremely unfair. Death should at least relieve your back pain.

Outrageous. I shall have to speak to someone about this.

Hehe.

I let myself relax.

Death with a little back pain.

Could have been worse.

Could have been better.

My Familiars swam back into my consciousness and I clung to the memories of them as they came, precious bright windows of joy.

Death was not so bad if I could hang onto these memories. I hoped they were ok, off in the astral, waiting for their next adventure.

I wish….

Gradually, a cell swam into view. Stone floors. Barred door.

Odd.

I blinked, slowly.

Very odd to be blinking– oh.

Not dead then. Somehow.

I was seated awkwardly against a wall, with my ass on the cold stone floor.

I immediately tried to sense my bonds and felt a distant sense of joy when I found them.

Wow my brain is really not working well, why so detached. Cold.

My bonds… I could still feel Lucy, Violette, and Serenity. They were toiling away rebuilding their respective bodies. The moment my attention hit them, I felt a flood of images and emotions from them.

I tried to reassure them. I was, if not safe, at least alive and not facing immediate danger.

They calmed, somewhat, and the bonds settled into a steady flow of love and support.

But my bond with Lorna. Something was still terribly, awfully wrong with it.

It was still there. But it was muted. Numb. Heavy. And buried beneath it…pain.

Like a broken bone, but so much closer and more personal.

I could detect nothing else from her. Not a whisper of will, nor a filament of emotion. That absence filled me with a panicky dread that threatened to overwhelm me.

I forced myself to breathe slowly.

Be here, in this moment. I need to focus.

Directly across from me, someone was chained to the wall, their arms hanging above them.

Her golden hair was a dirty mess and her head hung at an odd angle.

Hera.

Her beautiful eyes were as black as ink, her mouth clenched in a death grimace.

My stomach turned, and threatened to rebel against me.

The total senselessness of it. Denying her body dignity in such a grotesque display. A display for me?

Obviously. I was chained up facing her.

I felt like I was tumbling through space. The utter impossibility of what I was looking at rattled around my ribcage.

Bright, powerful, brave, arrogant.

Funny, weird, talented, wild.

Hera could not be….

Traitor.

Atalanta Carmine was a traitor.

The memory hit my disoriented consciousness like a steel hammer to the gut.

She was my hero. The person whose career I had aspired to. The person I most wanted to be. The reason I had set my sights on becoming a healer.

And she was a traitor.

She’d killed Hera.

In fact… I had the distinct impression she had killed me.

The memory of my neck snapping made my skin crawl, and my breath quicken involuntarily, like my body was instinctively clinging a little harder to life, now that it had experienced just how fragile I still was.

But I sure don’t seem dead.

I had died in the hand of one of the foremost healers of my generation. She must’ve put me down and brought me back a moment later, before my soul departed. That was healing magic of a dizzying height. And for it to be used like this….

Fuck her. Why had she brought me back but not Hera?! Why chain her up? Even an Ascendant couldn’t bring her back now. It must have been hours and hours.

I wasn’t sure how long it had been.

But I could tell by those terrible black, staring eyes that Hera was long dead.

The memory of her leaping fearlessly into the fray, crashing down like a thunderbolt, flashed before my eyes.

“You would’ve been the best of us.”

The pathetic little whisper was not enough.

I felt like I should cry. I should scream. I should tear free, tear this place down, tear these people apart.

But I couldn’t.

I just sat there, alternately unable to look at my friend’s lifeless body, and unable to look away.

I tried to free myself. Investigating the room, but was empty of anything but us. My pockets were empty, I was still in fucking date attire. Hera’s clothes, borrowed to impress Lorna. Ruined now. Unreturnable.

Focus.

Manacles tight and properly affixed. Hands chained to separate anchors on the wall. Old. Everything seemed old, but well maintained. No weaknesses, no chance to wriggle one of my hands out, arms stretched apart, and still pretty numb. This position was going to do some real damage to my arms if I was here much longer. My hands were already a nasty shade of purple.

All the while, Lorna’s bond, instead of healing, felt worse and worse. They were doing something to her. Had done something. And she was suffering. Of that, I was crushingly, depressingly certain.

But every desperate gambit to free myself had been futile. The closest I’d come to a result was tearing a bunch of skin around my wrists.

The blood dripped warm and taunting down my arm. Too weak to rip free. Too stupid to do anything even if I had. Helpless. Weak. Weak. Weak.

The sound of a keystone undoing the binding runes on the door snapped my attention into high alert.

Atalanta Carmine strode in. She was wearing her Wayfinding gear, high rarity midnight blue robes, and a wide brimmed witch’s hat.

I felt my lips curling back with contempt and revulsion.

She gave Hera’s body an assessing look, before clicking her tongue and turning on me.

She knelt facing me, like I had fallen down on the playground.

A warm autumn glow surrounded her and bathed me in healing. My arms returned to normal color, and my wrists stopped bleeding.

The glow stopped.

Carmine regarded me.

I glared.

“The Strangers are coming for our world.” Carmine said, softly.

I jerked in surprise. Strangers. The word that had so frightened Lorna. The unspeakable threat that had caused the entire Netherim people to scatter and flee into the depths of the Dungeon.

“I see that your Familiar warned you about them. Good. But you cannot possibly understand the magnitude of the threat. What do you know about the Netherim?” Carmine asked.

I gathered my strength and spat in her face.

It was a pathetic move. My mouth was far too dry. My body was too tired.

But I felt a wave of satisfaction as Carmine flinched, and jerked back.

She had the absolute gall to look hurt.

“Fuck you.” I said.

My voice was harsh and cracked an octave up, making me sound more juvenile than contemptuously badass and defiant. Hera would've liked it though. I could practically see her grinning thumbs up.

“Their worlds,” Carmine said with forced calm, “were many times more advanced than ours, both magically and technologically. Their society spread through the Dungeon to numerous adjacent worlds. A thriving, diverse, ancient people.”

“Ok?” I said. “Then why the fuck are you rounding them up?”

“Their empire went silent less than a year after the first Stranger fell on their worlds.” Carmine spat. “If we don't purge them, their scent will draw that plague to us.”

Oh great. She wants to purge people. Good to know she’s beyond redemption. How the fuck did she know so much about fall of their empire?

This whole… worlds connected through the Dungeon idea… it was still too new to me to properly conceptualize. The idea of a society spanning multiple worlds, linked through the Dungeon was staggering. Marok had implied such things briefly, but none of the Netherim wanted to discuss their lost worlds, and I hadn’t pushed for my own curiosity.

Maybe I should have.

“Your ghost friend.” Carmine said.

I stiffened.

“She’s cursed.” Carmine went on. “Did she tell you?”

“She was about to when you attacked the school, and kidnapped us.” I snarled.

Carmine gave me a pitying look. “She’s bound to war with the Strangers, forever. A bond to her is worse than a death sentence. And Eternity has greater designs for you.”

“I love her.” I growled. “Her war is my war, I am more than happy to fight for her, against Strangers, against you, against ANYONE.”

She laughed, mirthlessly. “They are world enders. They are the dark between the stars, gnawing away at the worlds. The Primordial Silence at the end of the universe. You don’t know what Heralds are…do you…?”

“Any. One.” I repeated, stubbornly.

But the description…. It made me feel very cold, and very small. Like a child holding a lit match up to a winter storm.

Carmine stood. “I’m saving your life. Maybe everyone's. If we are all very lucky, you will hate me for a long time for it. But you are cursed with purpose. You can thank Lady Chaos for that, oh great Herald.”

I sneered. “Valant and the others are going to kill you.”

Her face went cold. “Of that, I have absolutely no doubt.”

She stood, glancing again at Hera before regarding me down her nose. “I'm trying saving the world, Eir. But I need your help.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

She sighed. “We’ll talk again.”

She left the cell.