Without the need for sleep, and Instinct’s hounding gone, time had slipped by. He’d spent hours with Anointed daily, their auras radiating joy to see him unburdened by Beyond’s blessing.

  It had allowed him to have more cordial conversations, such as talks about pups, how the Cured were fairing, and the regular maintenance of Bae. Things he’d rarely asked about, given Instinct had been pressing on him, demanding he return to his feeding trance. Afterward though—especially the first time, when he’d returned with Tealhun—less soothing discussions had come up. Things about what the next tier should be dedicated to, who would be the next group of chosen to command an Oasis, and what Sanctums should be saved.

  A decision that hadn’t been as easily made, as it had been before.

  Rivers and Lakes were everywhere, so all Sanctums were bound to have at least one close enough to be fed on. The deciding factor on who received salvation, came down to the Nightmare surging upward from the Depths.

  There had been arguments—none heated—about the choice. But, as visions had come in from the rebuilt Sending network in the Middle-tier, and joined with reports from other Oases. Dissenting voices had fallen away, and his opinion on what should be done, gradually accepted.

  The Middle-tier was to be abandoned, the Sanctums there, unfortunately left to their fate. With the Giver’s armies in full retreat—after suffering staggering losses—the guiding Shroud had turned most of its attention back to the task of claiming Vails. Armies of Ancients had come, joined with Wrath ranked Nightmares. The result, Sanctums were crumbling.

  With the cover that Safegrounds had provided—allowing them to remain mostly unbothered by the Nightmare—rapidly fading. They had to leave, for if they stayed within the Middle-tier, more and more of the swarm would turn its attention on the Oases. Seek the Cured within, since, to the Shroud, there was no difference between the Wicked and those saved.

  Upward they had fled, all Oases doing the same, and burrowing deep into the upper realm dubbed Above.

  Cover regained, and the Nightmare occupied, his kin had hastily returned to the task of curing the Wicked. There was no time to waste, the end was fast approaching for most Vails, maybe even themselves. Yet, even with a month passing, Instinct remained absent. Worry of what could be, tried to fill its place, but that emotion lacked the bite, and pressure, of his old tormentor.

  That, and with Bliss, Hope, and Courage bathing him in their aspects most of the time. He was able to remain within a peaceful state, and stay with his family. All of whom listened in on reports from Oases that encountered Above level Sanctums.

  Their sizes were tripled that of the Middle-tiers. Promising untold millions within reach of salvation. Sadly, those who called Above their home, were not being cooperative. Vail loyalty to the Giver remained strong, and his kins attempts to gain access to Safegrounds—without the need of force—nonexistent.

  That loyalty remained, even when Oases attacked, and quickly spent tiers. Those within had even fought valiantly, unshaken by the might of his family’s armies. Certainly, they had thought themselves special, Above their home, and blest by the Giver. They had the appearance, for as it had been with the realm tier before, Vail Channels were of a higher quality in Above. The abundance of Mana in the air, had allowed for the growth, and maintenance, of bodies better tuned with storing it.

  The Wicked resembled him, and his kin, figures so saturated with Mana, that they appeared to be made of light.

  Not to the same degree, but the appearance was striking, and joined with the fact that these Vails were far taller than those below. The average was twelve heads in height. If not for their lack of Wards, he might have thought them his children, for a moment or two at least. However, with the etheric senses that his sons possessed, he had seen the state of their auras, and heard some of the thoughts being broadcasted out into the realm.

  Corrupt, vile, and wicked to the core.

  They were no different to those below them. The same egotistical thoughts, joined with a conscious so lacking in empathy, that they didn’t even know of the concept. It was all about themselves. They, the one real being in the realm, and surrounded by moving figures made to be bent to their will, and controlled.

  He’d partially wished to have been there, to sing and cure the wrong. There was a certain rush to cleansing Souls, to see the worst people could be, undone, and the beauty within allowed to grow and prosper. It must have been even more pleasurable for his family, given they were being compelled by Inner Blessings.

  But he had put aside the urge to go out and cure, he was pleased enough that the process was being done. Even more, as those freed from the wickedness within themselves, began aiding his kin.

  Thoroughly practiced at the art of gathering information from those recently cured, sons and daughters had gathered reports about the Giver’s activities.

  It wasn’t much.

  The Giver, when it came to those that held any form of title that would know privileged information, had made sure they were dead before his family ever reached them. As such, his kin only had the common folk to rely on.

  Those Vails told their tales, revealed how their daily lives had shifted to meet the demands of their betters.

  Much of it was expected, Sanctums being drained of resources, though not Mana. The Giver had been focused on more mundane items, such as precious metals, gems, and skilled labor. Much of which they all suspected would be used to rebuild her lost forces, since—from the Sanctums taken—such constructs had not been built within those Safegrounds.

  Besides for the taking of resources, Wicked had been ordered to bolster their defenses, and be battle ready for the arrival of Nightmares. Something the area dubbed Above, had been completely free of, before everything had fallen apart.

  It was a surprise to him, and his family. That none of those newly cured, knew what had happened, nor why the tiers below were being flooded with Anima.

  To them, the Middle-tier, and the Depths, were meaningless things, places for those who had lost the Giver’s grace, and made to labor for their betters. To those that resided within Above, their whole lives revolved around preparing themselves for the Dance of Placement, or merely Dance for short.

  While the Cured spoke of the matter as a trial of worth, the means for the seven sons to determine their worth to the Giver. Dailin saw it for what it really was, a blood sport.

  The Giver’s sons were playing a realm wide game. The Vails as the pieces, and Sanctums the prize. The rules weren’t clear, for why would the pieces need to know? But it wasn’t hard to guess, that the more Sanctums held, the better the player’s position.

  The revelation still burned. All the suffering his people had gone through, had merely been to gather resources for a game between seven maniacs.

  Madness, unending, and cruel. Dailin could not fault whatever race who had made the Nightmare. For if Vails were this cold to themselves, then the horrors they must have inflicted onto other races, was best left unthought.

  At least the Giver, and her demented sons, were also in danger. Their system of control, and death, turned against them. The beasts of slaughter free, and coming for all.

  It was a fate they deserved, devoured by the very things they saw as tools. Something that might come to pass, since those kings of madness were cornered. But he, and his kin, they knew a better and far worse punishment.

  The Seven, and the Giver, if fate allowed, would be cured. With Inner Blessings at work, those monsters would endure true torment. They would lament over the ills they had rot, and become the most dedicated of Souls aimed at aiding others.

  And there, however, shined the problem. One whose light radiated blindingly, and had him biting his lip as he fed upon Mana.

  With the Nightmare free from its leash, everyone was in danger of dying. While the Giver was keeping her movements, and schemes well hidden. It was plainly writ, that she, nor her sons, had a means to survive.

  How events were falling, it wouldn’t be long before the Nightmare reached Above, and the Sanctums within, would suffer the same as those below. Then, the last of all, would be the jewel, Sanctuary itself. With its destruction, and the Giver’s forces shattered, the kingdom of madness would be undone, the Wicked gone, and Hunger’s eyes turning to the Cured.

  They could try and run, Oases always on the move, and rising upward into the unknown. They had yet to find any information on what was passed the area called Above. All that was mentioned, was a ceiling that was titled, the Crown.

  To most that was it, the end mark for the realm. There was no higher than that, but he knew better, even this realm had to have a surface. There was also the matter of finding the Source, the font where all the Mana was coming from. If he could contain it, stop the tide, then the Nightmare could be ended.

  He hoped Sanctuary would hold the answers, reveal what had gone wrong, and what he needed to fix. Reaching that place was their main objective, and in truth, they could have already headed towards it.

  Claiming Sanctums from Above had allowed them to finalize the map of the realm. They knew where every Safeground was positioned, and that it all reached back to the source of control.

  But they had not gone there, and not only because of the tens of millions still in need of salvation. It was the Giver’s armies that had them remaining distant. For one, they didn’t know how much military power she had left, or the kind of defenses that highest Safeground had.

  So they had decided to wait, grow as powerful as they could, and save as many as possible before the Nightmare forced them to act.

  It was why he had been spending most of his time feeding again, even though he longed to be around his family, and playing with his multitude of children, which Blisses were providing. Also, he’d needed time to think. Really think, unlike before, when Instinct and Dread were hounding his thoughts.

  While he missed that sense of knowing danger, he didn’t overlook the peaceful clarity its absence provided. Those final months with Instinct had been trying, always on edge, the threat of Death seemingly around every passing moment. It wasn’t the finest mental state to have, when trying to think of a long-term solution. Or what they should do, if the worst scenario came to pass.

  The tide of Mana couldn’t be stopped, the realm left drowning in Lifeforce, and ever-growing abominations.

  More had to be done so they could even out the Nightmare’s advantages over them. With the monsters swelling in number, and the Shroud becoming increasingly aware—given the abundance of Sloans—the swarm was becoming deadlier every day.

  Though they were making their own improvements, Oases forged, Ascendants raised, and Wells growing.

  It wasn’t going to be enough.

  They needed another weapon, something that could counter the Nightmare, and for a time he had lamented over that. A weapon, over and over he pondered the idea, all the while viewing visions of the growing beasts, those perfected… tools to end the Vail.

  His mind stilled, he had been staring at the solution all along.

  The counter to the Nightmare, was another one.

  A living weapon that would never tire, or break. Again and again, it would strive to enact a purpose woven into its very being. It would breed, spread, fight back the monsters, and gorge on Lifeforce. Thus, aiding in the process of spending it.

  That way, one day, there would be none left, and weaponized flesh would slow, tire, and become weak. While Dailin, and his Ascendants, there power would remain unending, and they would have the might to sunder the Nightmare once and for all.

  The taste of elation, another solution found, nearly broke his trance of feeding. But that unending desire had become a well-worn pattern, so the chant of growth continued, while his mind spun with the idea.

  First to come, after the euphoria dimmed, was doubt, but it quickly died. The Mana would see his dream made real, since such a monstrous weapon had already been forged once. The matter resided with the phrasing, and the complexity of the willing.

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  The weapon, his Guardian for Vails, it would have to be even more adaptive than the Nightmare. An entity able to surpass its foes in every way. Which meant its form, or forms, would have to be something beyond them.

  A construct of such diversity, that it would be able to adjust itself to counter any obstacle. It would have to be more than just monster forms, for the Nightmare already had too much of a gain over it.

  Dailin imagined a being as hardy as crystals, could spread like trees, grow anywhere like fungus, and construct imposing bodies to fight its foes. Life itself, boundless and unstoppable.

  Such a thing would be able to take over the realm, and be a match to the monsters below.

  Once it gorged on Lifeforce anyways.

  The idea had shape, so he moved on to the next problem.

  Which was, the mind.

  Bodily, his creation would be able to match the monsters, but they were not simple beasts. With each swelling of the Nightmare’s numbers, the Shroud was growing more intelligent. If his creation was low minded, the Shroud would still be a threat, and outwit the Guardian.

  It would have to be sentient, and a collective mind, since such a mold was the most adapt at operating against a realm wide threat. But such a thing brought more problems, for as with the Nightmare, it would run the risk of things influencing it.

  Things like Hunger, or any other Curse that hooked its clawed tentacles into his creation. With it being life, instilled with wants and desires, Curses would have the means to affect it. Meaning, his creation would need safeguards. Luckily, the pieces were already made.

  His Inner-Blessings, The Guardian would be cured from the start. Its woven purpose, guided by Love, Empathy, and Compassion. Such a thought caused him to still again, the spark of a new idea forming within the old.

  Cured, sentient, and bound in flesh, would such a thing not hold a Soul, or Souls?

  The Nightmare did, since, with his heightened senses, he could feel the wickedness of them. Fallen Souls in need of salvation, but kept wrapped up tight in weaponized flesh, and maddening Hunger. Obstacles that fought against his Blessings. Kept back the warmth of love, and prevented them from gracefully getting the Souls to consent to Curing.

  But his creation though?

  A Guardian for Souls, a Custodian to aid them, and ultimately cure them.

  ‘Every fallen soul condemned to this realm, could be cured.’

  Even better, Dailin and his Ascendants, they could keep the Custodian fed, their Wells able to sustain it. The Nightmare would wither once the flow of Lifeforce was stopped, but his creation would remain, and the realm turned into Paradise.

  One able to save, protect, and sustain all within a blissful existence.

  Euphoria played within him, his heart racing, and mind buzzing with excitement. Salvation, true, pure, and in reach, for all the pieces were together.

  The idea formed, the power at hand, and his will focused.

  Was that his purpose, what all the trials led up to? The means to end the fall, not only for himself, but for all?

  ‘Blessed gods, please let this work.’

  With the scope of what he needed, now made certain, it all came down to the phrasing. A guide to keep him focused, and the idea clearly repeated to the Mana.

  ‘Life made to prosper, to thrive, and overcome, no matter the obstacle. Life interconnected, many beings, but also one. Life, to end the Nightmare, to protect the Vail, and the Cured. Life, to serve and foster abundance. Life, sentient, thinking, and woven within it, Love, Empathy, and Compassion. Life, that cures the soul.’

  Dailin, his hands twitching with energy, body ready to sing, went over the details again, the phrase linked with thoughts and desires.

  Taking a deep breath, and slowly forcing it out, he stopped feeding from his Channelingstone. Motioning to a Bliss, who quickly came over. He held her hand, and through her linked nature, sent out a command to his Blessings.

  ‘I’m about to focus all of my intent on a chant, see to it, that my Outflow doesn’t spread out too much.’

  “As you desire maker,” the Blisses around him said at once.

  He nodded, and closed his eyes. His attention fell away from them, and the realm itself. His trained mind turned inward, and focused intently on the source of wonders.

  There, he whispered the phrase, and the guiding thoughts. Willing, and compelling for his creation to be made real. The Mana within stilled, and listened for a long time, for his demands were many, and intricate.

  But it did act, and when this happened, Dailin cupped his hands together, pictured the seed that would start it all, and felt it be formed within. Mana pooled there, but not much. For all this creation promised, it costed him only that of a Wrath chant.

  As the Mana stilled, and he restarted the mental chant that fed his Well endless power. Dailin opened his eyes, and gazed down at a seed large enough to hide his palms. Sliding a thumb across its smooth surface, he acted quickly. It was beginning to shift, and a crack went down its middle.

  “Barriers,” he called out, and Blessings acted, enclosing the room with panels. His creation grew from Lifeforce, and while it had not yet been put into a pool, the air around him was rich enough to foster its growth.

  From the crack, flesh vines speckled with fungus and crystal, grew out, each twitching and testing for surfaces. Hastily, but carefully, he placed the seed on the floor, and took a step back from it.

  “Encase it,” he commanded, and panels appeared all around the Seed. Vines continued to grow, and began tapping at the surfaces, looking for a way out. Growth began to slow, since it had been cut off from the rich air.

  Staring at it deeply, his higher senses peering in, he watched its shifting aura, and unstructured thoughts. It was impressions, and feelings only, no mental words. Still, he could follow along. Smiling, he saw and felt that Mana had done everything correctly. The Inner-Blessings were already there, guiding his creation as it pondered over its situation.

  He saw panic, and hunger color its aura. Desires woven into the Life, had it wishing to spread, and grow. But it couldn’t while imprisoned, nor did it have the nourishment from before. As everything began to slow, and the being began conserving strength. Dailin tracked its thoughts, those flashing interests, and desires that compelled it to act.

  Life sought to know more, so its mind carefully expanded. Dailin saw it physically grow a small, grayish blue ball, one riddled with sunken impressions.

  A brain, he’d seen many. Past memories flashed, the sights of shattered skulls revealing their gray cores, and leaking matters. Sometimes he’d done the deed, but mostly it was thugs making an example of a troublemaker, and him there to watch.

  With this brain, the rest of the parts that made up Life, slowed, for the flesh vines had thoroughly encompassed the Barrier cage, and found no escape. The mind of his creation thought, planned, and concluded that it needed more sensory information.

  He watched new flesh vines grow, each tipped with a growing bulb. Able to witness its plans, Dailin knew—before the process was done—that these were to be eyes of a sort. He momentarily wondered how his creation knew to do this. But swiftly concluded, that whatever miracle the Mana had worked. It seemed to have instilled into his creation an instinctual knowing on how to grow, and weave itself into required parts.

  In a handful of seconds, the eyestalks were finished, and gazed about on their swaying tendrils. Dailin saw himself, and his Blessings, flood the mind of his creation. With him seen, and pleased with Mana’s work, he acted.

  Humming, and radiating out the warmth of love, the feeling was allowed to pass through the Barriers, and touch his creation. Every eyestalk swayed over to him, as within this creature, the Inner Blessing of Love bloomed.

  As it took note that he was a Vail, a deep instinct surfaced within his creation. An urge to protect and serve him, and to ensure he was cared for.

  Dailin neared the Barrier prison, and placed a hand on its surface. As he did so, a Bliss laid a hand on his shoulder, linking with him. He sent a command to her, letting the Blessings know what he was about to do. Then, moving his attention back to his power, he willed to it again. Desired for it to instill within his creation, a knowing on how to use Animastones.

  A simple request that was answered instantly. A small thread of Mana exited out of his palm, and through the Barriers that partially opened to let it pass. There the thread touched, and merged with a vine.

  New knowledge appeared into Life, the understanding of what Animastones were designed for, and how to use them. Removing his hand from the Barriers, Dailin willed to his power, and formed into creation, a Bestowingstone. While Life watched him with unblinking gazes, he filled that crystal with everything his creation would need to know in order to thrive, along with a question.

  The Soul within had yet to be cured, but it had felt the glory of that state, and in time, on its own, it would be saved. But he wanted to quicken the process.

  Satisfied, Blessings hovered the Bestowingstone towards Life, and Barriers shifted themselves to fit the crystal.

  Small amounts of Lifeforce were allowed to get through, and with each taste of that power, his creation grew a little more. Vines hastily wrapped around the stone as it settled near the Seed. He, and his Blessings, watched as the bestowed knowledge flowed into Life, its mind expanding to accommodate the volume of wisdom.

  Instinctually it had known of the Nightmare, its foe. The sights of those beasts, had the mind filling with an urge to quell the threat. But that passed, as more information flowed inward.

  It learned the state of the realm, of its purpose, and those in need of help. Only the first flow of knowledge bothered Life, to see how many were in dire straits, and that it would not be able to save them in time.

  Life’s mind was a storm of urges, and desires to act. The Inner Blessings helped quell some gray hued emotions, while worsening others. Empathy, and Compassion, they filled his creation with motivation, and a willingness to aid even the vilest of beings.

  Dailin couldn’t help but smile, for this was another seed of salvation, and it was almost ready.

  The question appeared in Life’s mind, and the hive of rapid—but now organizing thoughts—began to slow, and focus on it. Dailin hummed again, joined with Blisses, as they saturated the area with overwhelming love. It blanketed Life, had its mind still, and bask in the sensation. For minutes they all dwelled within love, a state that should have been their norm. Not the ugly, and sickly hues of the fallen emotions.

  When they pulled back their Hymn, let the sensation lower away, and only be felt by its Inner Blessings. Life craved more, and the answer to the question was quickly decided.

  Dailin began to whisper to his Mana, decreed that it bring forth curing, for the Inner Blessings to be forged within the Soul itself. Tendrils of light spread from his form, pressed against, then passed through opening Barriers, and touched upon Life.

  Life’s mind stilled, and Dailin saw the rise of caution, that urge to push back against this most wonderous of gifts. But the Soul knew not to listened to that sensation, it welcomed the Blessings, and was cured.

  The act was done in seconds, and with it, his Seed complete. That first centralized Soul, would be the core, an anchor to help ferry more to salvation.

  “It’s beautiful Maker,” the Bliss by his side voiced.

  “It is,” he responded. “Now, it’s time to send word to the Anointed, and have them witness another tool that will help bring forth Paradise.”

  ***

  His creation had brought in quite a crowd. The Outer Gate chamber was full with Ascendants gawking at Life, who was far larger in size, after being freed from its prison. Life, who he had come to call Progenitor, or Progen for short, had a mass around his size of forty-five heads. The living construct had shaped itself into a form that somewhat resembled a Vail. The thing was a web of green vines, plasters of fungus, leathery skin, and crystal shelling.

  Mana had not failed with his desires. It had woven a miracle where the four pillars of life were now bound into one form. He did not know if he’d created something new within the realms, but that didn’t matter. It was all new to his kin, their auras awash with curious awe, and shining hope.

  A weapon of flesh, a tool to thwart the Nightmare, and more importantly, gather Souls.

  Progen—using multiple eyes—gazed back at the masses, its own aura bathed in Love. That Inner Blessing—radiating brightly—was joined with the need to protect Vails, and Cured. The desire greater than a mother’s own.

  “Behold our Instrument,” Dailin said to the crowd, now that those who wanted to be personally present, had all arrived.

  “The Custodian.”

  “The counter to the Nightmare, that force aligned with Death. No more will it hunt us, this Rotation, the turning of the Cycle is in our favor.” Hope, thrill, relief, such pleasant sights colored the auras around him. “Death will be stopped, the cure will thrive, and the Wicked shall be saved!” He shouted, and the crowd chanted back: “They shall be saved!”

  A gesture from him, and the Gate to the realm opened, one with a River waiting for his creation.

  Its Vail shaped head turned to look, the motion unneeded, for it had eyes all over its form. But he had instilled much into Progen, unlike himself, when he had been bestowed knowledge. His creation knew everything about Vail behavior, and customs. It acted as they did, behaviors that helped it appear more relatable, and restricted, than it truly was.

  “You’re designed for this Progen,” he voiced softly, the sound causing it to gaze back at him. For all the rich colors, he was not blind to the specks of worry and doubt. “I have given to you everything needed, and will aid you in this, always.”

  “Blessings Maker,” it bowed. “We will do everything in our power to make Paradise, save all the Wicked, stop Death.”

  Smiling under his silver helm, heart full of joy–for the Mana had birthed the seed of salvation—he reached out, and laid a gauntleted hand on Progen’s shoulder. “I know, and we are all here to see you succeed, and even if there is failure, it shall be shared, and together made right.”

  He knew full well the weight of expectations, and the horror felt when failing to meet them. He would not let this burden his creation alone.

  Progen’s shoulders slouched ever so slight, and the specks of worry slowly ebbed away. It turned from him after, and the body began to distort. Gone was the Vail form, it spread, a flesh forest unchained, and it surged towards the opening. Barriers peeled apart, and the River flowed in. The two met, and life bloomed.

  A tide of crystal, plant, fungus, and flesh crashed, and pushed through the River, devouring it, as the Custodian grew and grew. Taking hold of a hand from a nearby Bliss, Dailin closed his eyes, and watched through Blessings, the spectacle as Progen took to the realm. It followed the flow of the River, but also, spread everywhere it could. A new ecosystem rapidly came into existence before his eyes, as flesh trees, and towering fungus grew from a deepening web of crystal roots.

  Giving mental commands to his Blessings, he peered closer, saw amazingly, Progen already at work forming armies. semi clear pods began to sprout across trees, and within the mounds of fungus. Bodies were forming, more flesh and muscle than plant, but there were parts in there, and fungus. The pods, once the proportion of an average Vail—seven heads—swelled in size as the creatures within did the same.

  Monstrous growth, but they were going to be facing beasts the size of mountains, so they had a long way to go. But, with the passing of a few minutes, Progen was well on its way into being an effective counter. Would buy them time, and allow the Wicked marked for death, a chance at salvation.

  Opening his eyes, and letting go of Bliss’s hand, he watched the portions of Progen that remained within Bae. It coated the walls around the Gate exit, and the floor. Within the mass of intermingled life, he spotted Channelingstones, and, Finder crystals. Together, his creation would be able to track their location—no matter how far they traveled upward—and they would be able to provide it aid at any time. The portion that remained, would also serve to help spread his weapon—their Custodian—to places unknown.

  One day, gods willing, his Custodian would encompass the entirety of the realm, and they would be one step closer to bringing Paradise to all.