194. The Veilwatch Temple

Long past mid-Day, the Viceroy and his retinue reindeered up to Dawnwick's highest point. Atop a sprawling hill on the outskirts of the city sat the Veilwatch Temple. As soon as Serac saw it, she immediately understood why the whole area bore the moniker of 'Veilwatch'.

This was where Tidereign ended… but not in the traditional sense she'd come to associate with the other Realms. The hill itself was vast, spanning as wide as Serac's eyes could take in. And as far as she could tell, it kept going. Up and up, further into Tidereign's true peak.

Except she couldn't see any of it. Her whole view of the 'rest of Tidereign' was blocked by layers upon layers of skyveils. Stacked so densely together as to morph the gossamer drapes into a solid wall of burnt umber, murkier still than Realgar's [Dusklight].

The Gloam made manifest. Visible and colossal in presence yet utterly impenetrable, thanks to the skyveils' [Unmooring] effect. Somewhere beyond the blockade, Serac imagined, rose the hill's summit, accompanied by the waterfall that surely dropped down from Manesfera to feed into the Sanzu. She knew such things must exist, but for now, she had no physical means of reaching them.

"You ask how Mriga Wayfarers ascend if the Path is blocked off?" Realgar fielded the first question that popped to Serac's mind. "Why, how else? By my guidance, of course. The Keeper has seen fit to grant me protection through the Gloaming mists—protection I'm honored to share with the select few deemed worthy of ascension. It's a narrow and secret Path, to be sure, and straying from it even slightly will tempt the veils' absolution. But as long as my brothers and sisters stick close to me, they shall have every means of reaching their destination."

"With one of your HIEROPHANT spells?" Serac pressed, oddly dissatisfied with the answer. "Does that mean you get to travel freely through the skyveils then? Why not explore the area and see what you see—maybe try to sus out where the Keeper's hiding? Or better yet"—her eyes lit up as inspiration hit—"figure out a way to pull down the veils altogether! Maybe that'll also collapse the Day-Night divide, so I could meet up with my—"

Realgar stopped her with a hand in her face. His own expression was one of unmitigated disdain.

"HIEROPHANT is a sacred power," he said, bristling like ORD. Giving Serac's suggestion any thought seemed to cause him physical pain. "It's the proof and emblem of my lifelong devotion to the Keeper's will. Yet with every word you speak, Sister Edin, you manage to make it sound so vulgar. It's not some device I switch on and off with a lever. No, the Keeper itself shows me the way, and only when the way is opened to me do I then gather my flock. In fact, the last 'cohort' to ascend did so more than 70 cycles ago, and I haven't been back among the mists since, let alone even dream of 'pulling down the veils'. Really, Sister Edin, I wonder if you—"

But Sister Edin had stopped listening, letting Realgar drone on by himself. She instead took a moment to translate Viceroy-speak in her mind.

I don't know exactly how long 70 Day-cycles is in standard Mount Meru time, but it possibly lines up with Zacko's first visit to the Wayside Lotus. He said he saw a bunch of Mrigas there, which could've been this 'last cohort' Realgar guided to ascension. So, the Mrigas do ascend in groups, but it sounds like there's a long wait in between cohorts. And if what Realgar says is true, the Keeper still 'keeps' an eye on what goes on in its own Realm, even if it doesn't wanna show itself…

"This is pertinent information for your own ascension, Serac." Trippy with the timely reminder. "It seems, as always, there are two Paths to ascension. Either you wait for this Keeper to give its approval and let Viceroy Enright guide you through the Gloaming mists. Or—"

Or figure out how to clear the way myself! I dunno about you, Trippy, but if my track record is anything to go by, this alternate Path is looking a lot more likely.

"… I know, Serac."

Oh, and don't you dare try to hurry me along before I'm ready! I'm not doing this without Zacko and Renna, so linking back up with them is the first priority.

"I know, Serac."

Serac smiled and nodded, appreciative of her Special Guidance Protocol's improved attitude. But the Viceroy she'd been ignoring seemed to take it as a sign of her compliance. He too gave a small, huffy nod of 'very well, we shall proceed', then elected to proceed.

The Temple itself was a large clay building—smooth, austere blocks stacked together to form a ziggurat. Serac's childhood had passed her by with no experience with sandcastles, but she could imagine one of her more elaborate attempts to look something like this. At any rate, the architecture was perfectly appropriate as the symbol of discipline and devotion atop a permanently sunlit city.

Here, Realgar's Anchored attendants peeled off to tend to the reindeer. The Wayfarers proceeded onto a lengthy set of stairs that led up to the main entrance. This deep into a sleepless day, outrealmer Serac was overcome by a funky mixture of immense fatigue and restless energy. Only grim, single-minded determination allowed her to complete this extra climb, step by wavering step.

Her efforts were rewarded by what was perhaps the prettiest indoor space in all of Dawnwick. Certainly, the Temple's inner beauty belied its spartan exteriors in almost every way. Enormous painted pillars supported an entrance hall so grand and lofty as to boast its own sky. The paintings depicted rolling processions of Mrigas in various poses and attires, which then fused seamlessly with a fresco upon the ceiling. There, somber Templars in saintly robes saluted each other across a sepia sky.

As if that weren't impressive enough, gossamer curtains hung from fixtures on the ceiling, so fine and so soft they all but floated in the air. Clearly meant to represent the skyveils, they were a perfect complement to the golden 'canal' that cascaded down the steps on ground level—a stand-in for the Sanzu River.

Talk about two sides of a coin! Serac mused with genuine delight. These Mrigas may try to act all proper and serious, but they definitely have a soulful side to them too!

Despite all the eye candy, the best thing about the Temple didn't have anything to do with art or architecture. No, it was the Hubstation that unfurled itself upon the entrance hall's topmost platform. Here, away from the herd's impressionable eyes, finally, Serac was given the OK to reconstitute!

"At this point, I don't see why not," Realgar said dismissively. "I expect you to stay inside the Temple until such time that we commence our operation to capture the Butcher. By then, there won't be any eyewitnesses roaming the streets. Go ahead and reconstitute. And see to it that you spend your Liminal Karma wisely. We'll need every advantage for the upcoming encounter."

Serac could readily agree with everything the Viceroy said. Which only made it all the more infuriating to follow his advice. Grumbling to herself, she sat next to the giant lotus and settled in for some much needed healing/leveling.

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[Karmic Level: 60 -> 65]

[Substance: 15 -> 16]

[Integrity: 16 -> 20]

<<PARAMETERS>>

[Physical Mitigation: 25.6% -> 26.1%]

[Infernal Mitigation: 21.6% -> 23.9%]

[Zealous Mitigation: 21.0% -> 21.6%]

[Erudite Mitigation: 21.6% -> 23.9%]

<<SEERFLAME>>

[REVOLVER Physical BAV: 151 -> 153]

[Infernal BAV: 176 -> 177]

[Zealous BAV: 189 -> 190]

[Primal BAV: 153 -> 162]

[Erudite BAV: 147 -> 148]

[Martial BAV: 153 -> 158]

[Deific BAV: 176 -> 177]

REVOLVER was all about cycling through the Seerflame rainbow. Three Realms into her journey, Serac understood more and more just how important [Substance] was to her kit, offering a DPS increase to most imbuements to varying degrees. As such, the once puny Rakshasa who'd started at a pitiful [6] had now bumped her [Substance] up to [16], and she'd do well to keep investing in it whenever practicable.

One of the exceptions to the rule, ironically enough, was Primal damage—especially relevant here in Tidereign. On this occasion, Serac spent four points to bring [Integrity] up to an even [20], resulting in a juicy 9-point boost to her Primal BAV. She hoped the decision would pay off the next time she cast [Hair to Hair]. Assuming, of course, that her Oathborn would work with rather than against her!

When she came to, she was greeted by dour-faced Travertine, brow knitted in a scowl even more self-serious than usual. As for Realgar, he was nowhere to be seen.

"The Viceroy has taken his leave," Trav explained, brow refusing to unknit quite just yet. "He'll be making final preparations for this 'evening'. As for you, I'm to bring you to Bishop Hanafin. She'll be a key member of our operation, and it's high time the two of you were introduced."

Serac's ears perked up at the name. It's that gal Trav is besotted with. And also the intended recipient of Oriole's letter. It was high time indeed that she finally made inroads on her courier job. But she couldn't help but wonder why her local guide looked so unhappy about the prospect.

Bishop Hanafin 'lived' in the Temple's highest floor—the uppermost clay block atop the ziggurat dubbed the Observatory. The room could only be accessed from the outside, which meant another, even steeper climb.

Serac gritted her teeth and got on with it. The breeze at high altitude felt good on her freshly regrown horns, but the reconstitution had done little to undo the toll of a long, long Day. To distract herself from the labor, she did what she did best: annoy an unwilling partner into small talk.

"Trav, I can tell there's something you wanna get off your chest." Fact rather than speculation. "You can try me. I've been told I'm a good listener."

The unwilling partner slowed his steps to stare at her. That's right. Hit them with something totally unexpected. It's the best way to get these quiet types to loosen up. But if the Cardinal took exception to having his ponderous name shortened to one syllable, he kept it to himself.

"I'm not one to question the Viceroy's methods." Trav did loosen up, straight into an answer far more direct than Serac had anticipated. Perhaps the long Day was taking a toll on the locals as well; either that or this local had learned to trust a certain outrealmer. "But I do wonder… if it's wise to involve Jas—Sister Hanafin in this business with the Butcher."

"Hm? Why's that?" Serac asked innocently, suppressing a knowing smirk. "Isn't she a Templar too—sworn to guide and protect the herd?"

"That she is, and she acquits herself of her duties admirably. But her task—what the Viceroy means to ask of her this evening—would draw her too close to the Night for my liking. I fear the risk it poses to her person, as well as to the Dawnwickers who rely on her gift each and every Day."

Serac still didn't know much about Sister Hanafin and her wonderful 'gift' to the citizens of Dawnwick. She supposed that was partly what this meeting would be about. For now, however, she still had a brooding Cardinal to tease.

"How noble of you to worry for the herd," she said with mock sanctimony. "And just so we're clear, where do you rank among the souls who'll be just devastated if something were to ever happen to Sister Hanafin?"

Trav opened his mouth to answer, then stopped. He then abruptly picked up the pace. He all but bounded up the stairs at top speed, leaving the much shorter Rakshasa in the dust. Serac jogged to catch up, panting with fatigue but smiling broadly all the same.

Two sides of a coin, she mused again. Brooding, self-serious Trav going a little crazy for the sake of a lady friend. Crazy enough to very mildly badmouth his boss! Boy, I can't wait to see just what's so special about this Hanafin girl…

Walking into the Observatory felt like stepping into a half-remembered dream. It was a tiny, quiet, and humble space. A far cry from the bustle of the city and even the pomp and ceremony just a few levels below. But while its construction was simple and its walls bare, the place was cozy in a way Serac had come to associate with 'home'.

Sepia-toned light poured in from a circular opening on the ceiling, giving an intimate view of the thickening skyveils just beyond the Temple. Within this pillar of light, figure both illuminated and diminished by the pitiless sun, sat a young Mriga woman.

And she was, far and away, the most beautiful creature Serac had ever met.

Slender build. White-spotted coat. Serene doe eyes upon an elongated face. All of it crowned by a pair of majestic antlers. And not just antlers.

Roses. Real, live roses bloomed and spread across the woman's crown. Vines, thorns, and petals alike weaved themselves into the antlers' gnarled contours. And all around this bed of roses circled a literal kaleidoscope of butterflies. Variegated wings fluttered in the softness of waning Daylight, outshone only by the doe eyes that looked out serenely from their midst.

Yes. Serac understood perfectly now. And she agreed whole-heartedly with the silly boys who'd first put it to words. The woman's face, indeed, was as a rose garden in season.

[Designation: JASPER aft'HANAFIN]

[Wayfarer Race: MRIGA]

[Karmic Level: 1]

[Liminal Karma: 0 क]

[PRIMAL Instrument: THE PRESTIGE]

[Oathborn: VEILWINGS]

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