143. The End of the Road

Howling wind. Helpless limbs. Conniving queen. Serac Edin was in it now—and she understood the gravity of the situation right away.

That understanding, of course, was shared with her captor. Loha stepped up to the vortex of her own design, craning her neck to gloat up at Serac, eye to eye. The height advantage gave the prisoner no comfort, but she still managed to mask her worries, as she met Loha's smile with a hard glare.

"There." The queen announced breezily, sounding for all the world like she'd just finished wiping down her kitchen worktable. "Now, we can finally have a heart to heart. I don't know about you, Serac, but I've been looking forward to this for quite some time."

"Yeah?" Serac spat, feeling no small measure of relief that she could breathe freely again. "Well, if you aren't here to say 'sorry, taking it all back, won't do it again', then I'm not interested."

"Stubborn as always; I do wonder where you get it from. Unfortunately, if you're looking for an apology, you won't get it. If anything, you should be the one apologizing to me."

"For breaking into your little secret cave? Yeah, well, you should've thought of that before deciding to hold my friend hostage."

"Oh no, I don't care about that. In fact, I appreciate your effort. After all, it's given me the chance to give you a proper welcome to my palace."

The queen's words were glib, but Serac sensed they might be at least half true. Loha knew I'd be coming for Renate and left breadcrumbs for me to follow. And if that's true, I suppose I walked myself right into her 'trap'… but what else was I to do?

Serac could fault herself for the execution, but not the intention. Somewhere in her head, a pointed silence from Trippy expressed a contrarian view. Regardless, the bigger question was just why the queen seemed so obsessed with Serac.

"No, I refer to an entirely different matter," Loha went on to volunteer her answer, "namely what you did to my beloved Damnatorium. I can congratulate your gumption in making your escape, but did you then have to go back and tear it down? Do you know how much trouble I went through to build that place?"

"So it was you," Serac murmured, instantly filled with disgust. Your beloved Damnatorium? And she was just about to let Queen No-Chill know exactly what she thought of her hellish legacy, when—

"How does she know?" An interruption from Trippy. Serac was momentarily confused by the question, until she realized its significance.

The only Pretjordian who would know about the Damnatorium is Loha herself. How could she have learned of its destruction? In fact, how does she even know that's where I got my start? From where or whom could she have gotten her information?

The answer came to her in a flash, accompanied at once by a dreadful chill and the hot flush of rage.

A soul who 'saw' all the goings-on up and down Mount Meru—who could travel freely between its Six Realms. It had to be them. Sublimity. Or could it be one of their Deva buddies?

Whatever the case might be, one thing was clear. The gods had descended from their ivory tower to interfere with Serac Edin's Path—not just once but twice. Was this normal? An obstacle common to all Wayfarers?

"No," came Trippy's answer, one that aligned with Serac's own gut feeling on the matter, "and the fact that the Devas have made an exception for you bodes ill for your Path moving forward. Assuming, of course, that you can get through this spot of trouble first."

Not for the first time, Serac missed having Version One around. But she and Version Two were stuck with each other, and at least on this occasion, the two of them were in full agreement. Before they could worry about the Devas, they first needed to survive a vindictive Rakshasa queen.

"You've gone quiet on me, Serac," Loha again. "What happened? By all accounts, you never shut up around other souls, but with me, it feels like I'm doing all the talking."

"Unfortunately, if you're waiting for an apology, you won't get it." Serac mirrored the queen. "I have nothing to apologize for, anyway. What you were doing with the Damnatorium was sick, and it needed to be taken down. How could you treat your fellow Rakshasas like that? Do you even know what it did to them? And how… how many of them became Frenzied because of—"

Loha burst out in laughter, stunning Serac into silence. Humor could be found in the strangest places, but just what could be funny about any of this?

"I say, Serac," Loha volunteered her answer, even as she wiped away a tear of mirth, "you really are too precious. Did I know that the Damnatorium was a breeding ground for Frenzied Penitents—in greater numbers and at a higher efficiency than ever before my time? Of course I did. That was the whole point!"

Serac frowned, as her mind raced to comprehend the sheer extent of Loha's villainy. She eventually did get there, but slowly and with much resistance. For even when faced with an ever-growing pile of evidence, she couldn't believe a fellow soul could be so evil.

Killing Anchored souls would incur a Karma deduction for each 'unsanctioned smite'. But what if those Anchored souls turned Aberrant? Would they not then become a perfectly legitimate source of Karma? And how might one Wayfarer benefit from building and managing an entire facility that was dedicated to that very purpose?

"I can see you've finally caught on," Loha continued, "so I'll spare you the details. Yes. The Damnatorium was my farm, one that barely required me to lift a finger. Granted, I no longer had a need for it as soon as I reached KL-30, so I suppose I could've dismantled it. But then… why let my hard work go to ruin? And why not let someone else enjoy it too? It's just a shame, really, that not all Wayfarers see eye to eye."

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"I should fucking hope not!" Serac snapped, seething. "Just how disgustingly selfish can you be? How cruel, how callous, how remorseless? And is that what you're trying to do now? Turn all of Pretjord into Starvelings so you could farm them for Karma?"

Loha shook her head, but clearly in amusement.

"My dear Serac, have you got no imagination in that pretty head of yours? What would I need Karma for, when I've already got everything I ever wanted, right here in Krongard? The Damnatorium was my way to escape the wasteland that is Naraka—so that I may grow and build in a Realm of rich possibilities. Well, I have grown and I have built. And so, the Greenhouse serves a very different purpose."

A Rakshasa who'd quadrupled her natural lifespan. Ten days that had returned youth and vigor to a haggard face. Serac understood fully now, and it only deepened her revulsion for her captor.

"You want to be immortal," she said quietly. "It's not enough that you've spent your life exploiting and bleeding a Realm and its people dry. You want to keep doing it forever. Well, too bad for you then, that it's your husband that gets to be the real Immortal."

For the first time, Loha's expression darkened. When she spoke again, she did so with an audible edge to her otherwise mild words.

"Do not presume to speak on matters beyond your knowledge, demon child. You think I've 'exploited' this Realm, do you? When in fact, the Pretjordians have me to thank for the peace and prosperity they've enjoyed for nigh on 400 years? I put an end to their barbaric war. I built canals, roads, settlements, and a disciplined army. The foraging and bartering system that underpins all Pretjordian life—do you really think my oaf of a husband was its progenitor? Understand this, Serac. The Realmtree was a war-torn hellscape before I arrived, and it'll revert to that as soon as I'm gone, especially with Tyr Djofulsen as the only one in charge. All that to say, the Pretjordians should thank their lucky stars that I don't intend for that to happen."

Hearing this, Serac frowned, and not entirely due to the ramblings of a mad tyrant. There was something else—an intent hidden between the lines. But she couldn't quite decipher it, nor think of the correct line of questioning. So, instead, she focused on the clear and present danger.

"I get why you'd want to lock me up in here," she said, trying and not quite able to keep her tone conversational. "This is my 'punishment' for breaking your toy—even though you stopped playing with it centuries ago. But what about Renate? Haven't you punished her enough? Hasn't she suffered enough? You've lived 400 years and you'll live another 400 for all I know. Why can't you let Renate just have a fraction of that time to herself and her loved ones?"

"You say that as if I don't love her," Loha shot back with mock indignation. "As if I don't love all my children equally. Did you not hear a word I said? What she said herself? This is where she belongs. Working with me and my endless supply of the Realmtree Dew. Her interests and mine are very much aligned, I assure you."

"Is that true, Renate?" Serac raised her voice as she redirected her question, knowing full well what the true answer was. "Is this really the Path you envisioned for yourself? Cooped up in a sunless cave, cooking endlessly for a feast you'll never know the taste of? You might help Inge stave off her illness for a few more years, and sure, I can understand why that's important to you. But you'll also be prolonging this vile woman's tyranny—all while you yourself rot in darkness and solitude. Is that really what you want?"

Loha let her speak, wearing a faint smile as she did. Serac knew it wasn't because the queen was enamored with her speech. No, it was a kind of demonstration—at once a test of Renate's servitude and proof to Serac that her friend was beyond saving.

"Why won't you fight?" Serac shouted, louder even than she knew herself capable. "You're a Wayfarer, aren't you? You've got nothing to lose and everything to gain. Break your chains and fight! The queen, the king, your brother, hell, the whole Realm if you have to! I know that a fire burned in you once—the same fire with which you tamed the very elements. Find it. Remember it. That you may strike down your foes and all who would stand in your Path!"

Serac knew not when the 'transition' happened. By the time she stopped for breath, her whole head—horn to horn and all the way around—was ablaze with excruciating pain. But she gritted her teeth and kept a straight face. Because she knew that 'presentation' was half the battle.

Her efforts seemed to have paid off. For Loha, eyes wide, backed off a step, looking genuinely rattled. Behind her, at the base of the tree, a pink figure stirred, raising her hooded head an inch above her knees.

But… that was where it ended. Renate held her indecisive posture for only a second longer, before burying her face anew. Worst of all, she didn't offer a single word in response. And here amidst the sunless cave, silence was deafening.

Serac allowed herself to relax—and her headache to subside. Her peppiest pep talk, even when 'spiced up' by her third entity, had fallen short. Short but not unheard, I hope.

For what it was worth, it did leave a noticeable effect on Loha. The queen backed off another step, distracted, then looked up at Serac in an attempt to get the last word in.

"As much as I'd love to stay and chat, Serac, I really must be off. Duty calls, and all that. Oh, and as for your cage, worry not. It might take a few days, but it should 'blow itself out' eventually. I wanted you to suffer the consequences of your actions, but I wouldn't want you to starve for it, gods no. You did come here on a full stomach, I hope?"

The queen said the last part with a wide smile, having talked herself into recovering some of her old swagger. But then as she turned to leave, she hesitated once more, before doing a 180 and heading in the tree's direction.

Serac watched from her cage of howling wind. Loha bent towards Renate and appeared to say a few words. When she got no response, she dragged the frog woman to her feet—roughly, and without a hint of the 'love' she'd earlier professed. Then the two of them marched out of the Greenhouse together, with mother leading daughter by the armpit. Before they did, however, Loha made sure to pick up REVOLVER off the floor.

It didn't come as a surprise, but Serac was still disappointed to see Renate's utter lack of resistance. Yet, it wasn't all bad news. The fact that Loha was so hasty to remove Renate from the vicinity—from Serac's influence—meant there was hope. Yes. The effects of Serac's pep talk hadn't been immediate, but there was still hope that Renate wasn't as lost a cause as she made herself out to be.

"Why couldn't you have done that?"

What? What're you talking about? Done what?

"Just drag the Finless by her armpits and spirit her away."

… Do you really have to ask me that, Trippy? I'm here to save my friend, not control her. Also, her name is Renate. Get it right.

"… If you say so, Wayfarer. Regardless, I think it's safe to say we've now got a bigger worry on our hands."

Trippy was right, of course. Howling wind. Helpless limbs (with no access to REVOLVER). And a half-empty [Satiety] gauge that had no hope of outlasting a conniving queen's magic.

Serac Edin was in it now—and she understood the gravity of the situation, alright. There were only two ways this could go. This windy cage was to be either the site of her greatest comeback yet… or the end of her road.

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