PftA Book 5 - Interlude 1 - Blocked Visions

Anya monitored the groups in their individual rooms through the Council Headquarters’ network.

Most of the Space Mages – including Emie – had already set out to scout their evacuation locations, leaving the rest of their teams to discuss the logistics surrounding their respective assignments.

Having been given recordings and intel gathered from both Emie and the stealth specialist they’d hired, the teams wouldn’t need long to prepare. And since the Space Mages were mostly there for support and the occasional offensive action, they wouldn’t need the same level of preparation as the others.

It helped that they all had Spatial Sense. The skill was a bit of a cheat when it came to operating within an unfamiliar environment.

Then again, every affinity was a cheat in its own way.

The two days of preparation time weren’t for the small assault teams to prepare. It wasn’t even for the massive army the Council had assembled.

The time was allotted to ensure the Enchanters in the Council’s employ could finish the Master-level [Fate Obscuration] formation they were working on. The Enchanters had already finished the weaker individual [Fate Obscuration] artifacts that would soon be distributed to each of the Alliance fighters.

Not only would the smaller artifacts prevent individuals from being easily scried, when linked to the formation, the effects would be multiplicative. Anya hoped that the combination would keep the enemy Fate Mages from being able to use Foresight at all.

Turnabout was fair, after all. It was clear that the enemy had similar [Fate Obscuration] effects in place blocking her sight since no matter how hard she tried to scry the Necromancer and his minions, she was unable to see what would come of his actions.

It was distressing and frustrating, all at the same time.

Taking a deep breath and suppressing the sudden rush of negative emotions, Anya’s thoughts drifted to the young Earthborn who’d inadvertently facilitated the war.

Anya wasn’t sure exactly what Emie and her sister-in-law had done, but she knew they were both somehow involved in the issue with the timelines and the subsequent restrictions.

She didn’t blame the two youths. Anya knew enough about Fate to recognize its hand in things. And the signs of Fate’s intervention were abundantly clear.

Of course, she could never mention the girls’ suspected involvement to anyone – not even Lance.

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her husband. She did. She just didn’t think the burden of knowledge was worth it in this particular case.

Anya’s limited sense of Emie abruptly disappeared.

Anya had worried the first few times it had happened after the young Trinity Mage had escaped from the Challenge Rift. However, she’d gotten used to the semi-regular disappearances by now.

Though Emie wore a [Fate Obscuration] artifact, Anya could still get a vague sense of the girl most of the time. It was only when she entered her hidden residence that the young Trinity Mage completely disappeared from Anya’s senses.

The Fate Mage turned her gaze to the door a moment before Lance entered the room.

“How is everything progressing so far?” Anya asked as he made himself comfortable in his favorite chair.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” her husband replied with a tired smile.

“Just because I’m a Fate Mage doesn’t mean I know everything,” Anya replied automatically. It was a familiar exchange that the married couple had shared many times.

“The army is almost ready,” Lance said. “The forward elements are already in place, and the main army is just finalizing their last-minute preparations. We’re just waiting on the Enchanters to finish the formation.”

“Good,” Anya said with a resolute nod.

She stood and equipped a Tier Ten set of enchanted light armor that her husband had acquired for her. As a Tier Eight, she would never have been able to afford the gear on her own, even with her connections.

“Are you sure you want to join the assault on the academy?” her husband asked nervously. “Joining the assault on Baron Akyrono’s forces would probably be safer.”

“Probably,” Anya conceded. “But I’m hoping that close physical proximity will allow me to bypass whatever obscuration artifact is being used to hide the necromancer’s actions. I hate not knowing what is coming.”

Councilor Lance gave his wife a tight smile. As much as he wanted to say something light-hearted, the truth was, he hated it when his wife couldn’t see what was coming, too.

He was a little ashamed to acknowledge how much he relied on Anya’s foresight when it came to making major decisions. Loathe as he was to admit it, his wife’s abilities were part of the reason he was so set on them ascending together.

Of course, he’d never tell her that. He didn’t want her to worry that his feelings for her were not genuine. They were. Her foresight was just a wonderful bonus that he’d come to rely on over time.

= = =

Onan, the Prophet of the Collective, struggled to remain standing as the crushing pressure radiating from the Supreme Leader flowed over him like a wave when the naga entered the large dining room flanked by his most trusted subordinates.

A day earlier, Onan had tried to warn the Supreme Leader, General Valnar, that the enemies would soon retaliate, but the arrogant Pinnacle had ignored his messages.

When he finally managed to gain an audience with General Valnar just a few scant hours before the evening meal, the naga had sneered at him before calling him a coward for worrying about such things.

Onan had long since recognized that his days were numbered. No matter which side won, the Prophet would end up the loser. That fact had been made abundantly clear as the war progressed.

His early contributions no longer seemed to matter, and his presence was barely tolerated among the Collective’s elite. It truly wasn’t anything new. The Collective had never had much tolerance for non-combatants.

Even after everything he’d done, he could still feel several hateful glares focusing on him as the Supreme Leader passed by his table.

He knew that only the Soul contracts attached to every member of the Collective army kept him alive. As soon as his contributions fell below a certain threshold, the Supreme Leader would remove the limited protection granted by the Soul contract.

And there was nothing he could do about it except hope he could remain useful enough not to kill. His most recent warning was probably enough to buy another couple of weeks if he was lucky.

He’d need to save the next warning until the last minute to extend his grace – not that it would likely matter in the end. He was almost certainly going to die in a matter of days.

Regardless, he’d have to at least send a message warning the General of the threat to his life. To do anything else would put him at risk of violating his Soul contract.

It didn’t matter that the General had blocked his messages. By making an attempt, he’d fulfill the requirements of the contract.

That didn’t mean much when it was clear his death was imminent.

At least I won’t be the only one.

The Prophet sat at the lowest table in the large dining hall. The others at his table kept their distance from the Tier Seven Fate Mage, believing they were superior to the non-combatant, regardless of his higher tier.

Onan ate silently as the gathered elites boisterously consumed the lightly roasted meat provided by the General’s hunters. The limited selection of vegetables was left largely untouched by the primarily carnivorous races.

His quiet nature drew further sneers and criticism from those nearby, but the Prophet ignored them. Their comments were nothing new.

As the gathered fighters boasted about their many kills thus far in the war, Onan’s thoughts remained fixated on his inability to see beyond the coming attack.

No matter how he focused or how much mana he spent, Onan’s foresight inevitably grew hazy and indistinct as soon as the General fell. It could only mean one thing – his death had immediately followed his leader’s.

Though he couldn’t actually see his own death, it was the only outcome that made sense given the enemy’s lack of access to the kind of [Fate Obscuration] artifacts it would take to interfere with his vision.

Had they possessed such artifacts, he had no doubt they would have already been deployed at some point in the war. The fact that his vision blurred immediately following the Supreme Leader’s death meant it was unlikely to be the effect of an artifact.

Otherwise, why wouldn’t they have activated it before the General’s death?

No. It was far more likely the loss of vision was the result of his impending death. Nothing else made sense.

Onan hoped that by changing locations, he might somehow avoid his fate. As long as he wasn’t present at the headquarters when the General fell, maybe, just maybe, he’d somehow survive it.

As pointless as his hope might be, his gut told him that traveling to the necromancer’s stronghold was his best chance at survival. And as a Fate Mage, he always trusted his intuition.

Since the General hadn’t imposed any travel restrictions on the orcish Fate Mage, Onan decided to use the portal hub to travel to the necromancer’s stronghold as soon as he left the dining hall.

He doubted anyone would even notice his absence. And if they did, he didn’t think anyone would say anything.

In truth, the elites that normally surrounded the General probably questioned his continued presence more than they would question his absence.

For the first time, he felt like their arrogant superiority was a good thing, as was his lack of authority or official role within the assembled forces. His lack of position meant his arrival at the necromancer’s stronghold wouldn’t upset the local power structure.

That was important if he wanted to survive.

As soon as enough time had passed for him to leave without drawing unwanted attention, Onan casually exited the dining hall and headed for the portal leading to the hidden hub.