The Chimera Summoner – Ch 44 (Part 1/2) – Emily

Ch 44 – Emily

Atalanta Carmine’s injuries healed before my eyes as pale threads within her stitched her back together.

The trapped souls were reeled into her hands, like so much laundry on a line, and she grimly wove them into a single monstrous shape.

Ghostly screaming filled the air, like a distant choir of suffering.

“That seems bad.” I muttered, as my knees hit the floor.

I fought to maintain my summons. But my tattoos felt like boiling lead, and blood was starting to cloud my stinging eyes and drip down the sides of my neck. My hearing seemed muffled by something.

I sat, too exhausted to even fall over properly.

I tried to breathe, but the weight of my own chest was like a mountain.

Am I having a heart attack?

Am I drowning?

I was vaguely aware of my sword glimmering as it fell from my hand. It vanished in a twinkle of starlight, returning to my soul where it was bound.

My Familiars all struggled towards me, utterly spent, but striving still. Willing to protect me from whatever new monstrosity Atalanta Carmine was Crafting.

I felt a flutter of fear from Lucy. Feral determination from Vi. Grim resolve from Serenity.

Lorna’s voice was in my ear. But it was far, far too faint to make out. A whisper in a memory. A flicker of light and shadow.

My summons broke and my Familiars vanished one by one, as I was no longer able to sustain them.

“I have to stop…” I mumbled, my mouth feeling leaden.

I have to stop losing my hold on them, when things get dire.

A problem for another time. I was still low level, after all.

The chaos of the hall was reduced to indistinguishable people running around. I couldn’t turn my head. I could barely move my eyes. My focus kept slipping in an out.

Their bonds felt slack, silent. I hadn’t realized that even when they had slept with me, they weren't truly asleep the way I knew it, but just resting. Now they were truly dormant.

I tried again to breathe. My lungs felt flat. Not just empty. Crushed.

Carmine rose, a huge cloak of ghostly patchwork streaming from her shoulders.

That…I could focus on. That was too insane for even my addled brain to miss.

My cheek hit the floor. Hot. The floor was hot. It reminded me of the obsidian desert, where Valant had once taken the class too–

Focus!

Wailing voices and clutching hands emanated from Carmine’s massive cloak of patchwork souls as she drifted into the air, with an expression of utter rapture on her face, her hands outstretched. Ghoulish hands spread from the cloak, arresting fleeing figures one by one.

I tried to move.

My heart struggled to beat. Each throb was painful in my chest.

Carmine pointed at me and a forest of ghostly limbs shot from her nightmarish cloak.

They smashed into me. Clammy. Moist. Unhealthy.

Completely unlike Lorna’s peaceful ghostly touch. Instead it was like hollow skin, horribly moist, and with a terrible grip.

These hands felt profane as they clambered up every inch of me. Sickening despair that was not my own pierced me.

A great blue portal opened behind Carmine.

From it, three figures emerged.

Grace Valant, Brawly, and Marok stepped into the room.

Marok, was injured, horribly bloodied, and lacking her gear. But even from a distance I could feel her fury.

The entire crawling castle trembled. A pulse of heat hit us from somewhere deep in the guts of the machine.

Grace Valant's terrifying long sword sent a shockwave slicing through the distended ghostly arms of Carmine's cloak, somehow severing the pale abominations. Across the room, Netherim suddenly freed from Carmine clutches stumbled away.

But before the last arm was severed, Carmine’s hand snapped shut.

The spectral hand around my neck did the same.

I heard, rather than felt, a meaty crunch.

Pain vanished. Exhaustion fell away.

What a relief.

I can get some rest.

Before my eyes closed, I saw the great windows of the throne room fly open. Blinding light poured in, flooding the chamber with brilliance and harsh winter air. My own body toppled slowly in the opposite direction.

Strange. I’d never seen myself from this angle before.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

No instant wave of powerful Healing, this time. I felt the moment that my soul parted from my body like loosing my grip on a precipice. But instead of a hard stop, I fell straight off the world and just kept going.

It was terrifying. And exhilarating. A tiny bit sad. And a tiny bit of a relief.

I stood in an endless shallow sea. In the distance, a colossal tree dominated the sky. The warm water lapped gently at my bare ankles.

I felt my bonds. Still silent. But healthy. They were resting from the overcharge we’d all received. I didn't disturb them.

I felt a flood of relief and happiness.

I guess even Death wouldn't sever our connections.

The thought filled me with a monumental wave of joy and relief.

I discarded the rags of fear from my shoulders and let them sink, forgotten.

We’d still be together. Maybe I would get to spectate the rest of their lives, in a kind of way. I couldn’t wait to find out what they did. And I wouldn’t feel alone. No matter what happened next, I knew I could face it, that being the case.

Three figures joined me, as abruptly and noiselessly as if they'd always been there.

Maybe I just hadn't noticed them, basking in relief as I was.

I smiled, easily.

One was the Voice of the Architect. Either the one I had met before or one indistinguishable. Their vaguely feminine form glistened dully in the low light.

I gave them a friendly wave. To my surprise, they returned it, with only the suggestion of a sigh.

The second was a woman with long black hair that looked like each glistening strand cut of translucent black fire glass, the instant after it had been formed. Her eyes were soft and black, and full of a gentle repose. Something about the eyes themselves tickled me.

Hera. That’s what Hera’s eyes looked like when she’d come back. That’s what her eyes were slowly becoming, as she had more and more brushes with…

Ahhhh, I knew this woman.

Finally…

The most incongruous member of the group.

Even with the total peace and wholeness that I was full of… she was throwing me for a bit of a loop. I just kept blinking at her, waiting for my eyes to tell me they’d been bluffing and show me who was really standing there.

But they continued to stubbornly insist their veracity.

There, next to the Voice of the Architect, and who I was pretty sure was Death herself…….was my student mentor, Emily. Her yellow hair tied in an asymmetrical ponytail. A bright red Bayloft sweater swallowed her small frame.

….

….

I shouldn't have a brain to be scrambled.

But my brain was scrambled.

Emily shot me a wink and a friendly smile.

She swung her arms energetically, watching the other two like she was waiting for them to begin.

“I have questions.” I blurted.

“After.” Emily whispered, leaning toward me and giving my hand a squeeze.

“We are here to discuss the fate of Eir, who has died.” Intoned the Voice, dryly.

“So I AM dead?” I clarified. Felt like a big deal.

“You are dead.” Said dark figure.

Her voice was like how it feels to come in from a long, cold day of hard work, and finally take your boots off, and put on dry socks, and sit by a fire with a friend.

I smiled a tiny bit. I was sad to be dead. For sure. There was a lot I had wanted to do with my girls. But…I didn’t feel the need to lie to myself anymore. I also felt relief. Responsibilities were lifting off my shoulders. Fears and insurmountable enemies…were no longer my problem.

Death gave me a sad little smile.

“Only MOSTLY dead.” Emily interjected.

“No.” Death said, soft but incontrovertible. “Quite dead. She channeled Ascendant power at level twelve, then Leveled to nineteen in a matter of moments. Her soul cracked. Then her neck was crushed. She's dead.”

“Inefficiently channeled ascendant powerrruhhh!” Emily whined. “She shared a bunch with her little gay polycule, and they wasted most of it anyway! Come ooooonnnn! You're always making exceptions for your one.”

“My Herald gets lives.” The dark figure said. “Yours gets luck. That was your idea.”

“Teeeechnically it was Eir’s idea. And she got it from Lorna – little schemer that she is. Eir made me an offering. A vow. A insane vow, you should’ve–” Emily blathered animatedly.

“Nevertheless, your blessing is expended.” The dark figure said, with finality.

Actually, everything they said had the district ring of finality.

“Are you Hera’s boss?” I asked, to confirm.

Death turned a cold stare on me.

I cringed.

Then … she chuckled.

A single, sullen giggle.

“Huh.”

And then she was still again, glaring at me.

I felt like I nearly died again. The power and danger behind that glare was palpable, even to a dead person such as myself.

“I have been called many things.” Death said, “But that, I admit, is a first. I haven't had one of those in some time.”

Emily gave me a big thumbs up, nodding encouragingly.

“The architect wishes to express–” started the Voice.

“Archy isn't HERE, they don't get a vote.” Emily interrupted.

“--their support of Eir’s case.” The voice finished, doggedly. “They believe the Chaos Herald necessary for–”

“Yay!” Emily clapped. “Well that's three versus one, Death, old gal! Go ahead and spit Eir back into the world or whatever and–”

“It's two versus one, Eir certainly doesn't get a vote, and you just said Archy doesn't get one either.” Death said dully.

“The Architect wishes to once again express that they do not wish to be referred to as ‘Archy.” The Voice recited, sounding bored.

I raised my hand.

“Eir?” The Voice called on me, before either of their colleagues could.

“Why is Emily here?” I asked. “Sorry I just … I have to know. Not what I thought my first afterlife question would be, either. But. What the fuck, guys.”