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Shallan opened her eyes and was surprised by the quietness of her thoughts. Admittedly there was something buzzing in the background of her hearing, but there wasn’t a dragon speaking directly into her brain, no roaring pain from a leg having been blown clear off and her senses were only her own normal experiences of the world again. It was a blissful quiet. Shallan closed her eyes again, breathing deeply. She was tempted to let herself sleep some more, this was the most peaceful she had felt since her ill-informed venture to Inverexe. Regrettably, awareness brought with it questions. Bothersome things that continued to nettle at her thoughts until she could not continue to lie there any longer.
What had happened? Where was she?
Her memory of everything since losing her leg was blurry at best. She was no longer bonded to Smaug. Something had happened to cause that. Probably the end of their campaign against the unmaking. But the more she thought about it, the less it felt like she was resting in a nice, comfy, infirmary bed. In addition, she was pretty sure she couldn’t imagine wiggling the toes on a leg that had been blown off quite as vividly as she currently could. Things must have ended up complicated again.
With a thoroughly begrudging effort, Shallan opened her eyes again. The sky above her was the brightest blue. The buzzing sound she heard was the rhythmic cycle of waves upon a beach. A beach she had seemingly washed up on. She didn’t feel soaking wet, so she must have been lying there for quite some time. With a listless sigh, Shallan forced herself into a sitting position. The ocean stretched out in front of her to the horizon, blue and shining without rock or island to break the line between water and sky. The beach sand looked shinier than she remembered the islands had, but admittedly she had scarcely had time to take in the scenery in that series of airborne assaults. And she had been seeing the whole thing through Smaug’s eyes.
Presently, Shallan noticed that she was not the only person on the beach. There were no small number of people, some dressed familiarly, some more outlandish, but none who looked particularly like they “belonged” here on the shore. Then again, neither did she. They were heading away from the water, she noted, with a uniform sort of patient walking. With a huff, she rose to her feet, brushing what sand she could from the hem of her havah dress. Turning to look in the direction the others were heading, she beheld what could only be described as a morass of beings. They were all milling about and waiting in lines to some destination that Shallan couldn’t make out.
With minor trepidation, she moved to the edge of the crowd, trying to get a sense of what she’d even be waiting for. Her efforts to eavesdrop proved fruitless however, as the people were barely even speaking to one another. It was a surprisingly peaceful crowd, given the size of things, no arguing or shoving. Instead an air nervous anticipation hung above the whole situation but the flow of people was so smooth and natural that Shallan didn’t even realize that she’d taken place in one of the winding lines. How had she managed to make it through that large a crowd so quickly?
As she debated whether to step out of the line a robed and hooded figure passed along one side, it was a bit too tall to be human, but she couldn’t make out any facial features inside the cloak. It was proceeding along with an air of authority, handing out a small item to each of the people waiting.
“Please keep these in hand while you wait, they’ll help to speed up the process. Oh, with your bare hand, miss, thank you.”
Shallan took the offered gemstone with her freehand, and the robed figure continued down the line without further comment, repeating its declaration as it continued to hand out gemstones. She peered at the gemstone curiously, holding it up to the light to try to get a sense for its opacity. It was only then that she realized that there was no light to hod it up to. The entire beach was caught in a sort of pre-dawn glow. Like the sun was just waiting over the horizon. It was a pleasant sight, but slightly startling when Shallan tried to align it with how long she’d been here.
How long had she been here? After all, that crowd had been massive, and this line while far from stagnant, still stretched over the sand dunes and out of sight. It couldn’t still be a rising down for this long, surely?
She was still pondering the implications when she found herself at the front of the line. She blinked in alarm, then slowly took the seat offered to her by another of the hooded and robed individuals.
“Hello, may I have that gemstone? It has been listening to your soulsong while you waited in line and should help with the efficiency of your posthumous processing.”
Ah. There it was.
All of the questions snapping into place with the stark clarity of a belltower’s toll.
“I suppose that in the grand scheme of things, it would have been entirely too convenient that dying in the Crossroads would have brought me to the Tranquiline halls.” Shallan murmured dejectedly.
“Mmm, I am afraid that decision is not my jurisdiction precisely, Miss. We are only here to assess the legitimacy of your soul, not to judge its merit for the hereafter.”
“Pardon?” Shallan frowned again, simultaneously relieved and concerned by the statement, “Then you are…?”
“Our order’s official title is the First Step to Eternal Perfection.” The hooded figure made a symbolic gesture with its taloned hands that Shallan didn’t recognize, “But to most people we are generally known as paradise’s bureaucracy.”
Shallan’s trepidation did not abate at that explanation.
“That’s a necessary thing?”
“It’s er… it’s become an increasing problem these last couple of years I am afraid. Death has always been a tricky subject for those beings who reside in the Crossroads. Folks here have a tendency to make… let us call it return trips for lack of a better word. Add onto that mess the ultimate state of the souls of Unmade beings, and the potential fate of the quasi-real soldiers some groups are starting to employ to bolster their blood counts and it quickly becomes an actuarial nightmare to tell who’s even really dying or not these days!”
“I… really?” Shallan was finding herself put on the back foot by the frankness of this conversation. To have something like her soul and eternal fate be discussed like she was speaking to a bank teller was unnerving to say the least. “And that all has to be sorted through scientifically, I imagine?”
“As much as you can, though, soul science drifts into metaphysics without even trying to. We’ve actually had to create significant amounts of new categories to handle the wide array of things that reside in the crossroads, and that only makes the situations more complicated when you come across the people who are still managing to break the systems of organization we’ve created!”
The figure tapped at the gemstone briefly with one of its talons, then sighed.
“And this is exactly what I mean! You’re reading as three different souls, one of which is owed a reincarnation! I don’t suppose you were a necromancer or some sort of soul-splicer in life? That would at least make the case shut and dry.”
“Afraid not…” Shallan answered, though it didn’t seem prudent to offer this being any shortcuts when it came to a discussion like this. This think almost seemed to be looking for an excuse not to consider her case fully.
“No… I don’t see any evidence of binding, all of the involved parties agreed to the bond willingly…” The hooded being gave an exasperated sigh.
She would be better off saying nothing, she knew that, but the curiosity burned at her brain like a hot knife. “Is it really that hard to tell which soul matches the body?”
“We, er… It’s against policy to discuss too much metaphysics with a being that might be returning to the world. To put it simply, I don’t have your body to compare it to. What you’re perceiving right now is more of a… metaphorical existence. It’s a way for your uh… your self to interact with this space in a way that isn’t too disconcerting for you. It's personalized too, so I can’t tell what you’re seeing, or tell you what it looks like to anyone else waiting in the line either.”
“Ohh, so that’s why there aren’t as many sea monsters and zombies in the line as there were back on Opealon?”
The figure gave a non-committal shrug, which briefly sent Shallan into a dangerous spiral of questions about how a thing that didn’t really have a body could be communicating in a non-verbal manner.
“At any rate, I’m going to have to dump you into a soul-searching scenario to figure out which of those signatures is the real you. One moment.”
The being extended a taloned hand, glowing lines spreading from its fingers into an intricate design. It twisted the expanding glyph and Shallan felt her world splinter. Her perception twisted, spiraled slices of the image before her uncoiling and falling away. The crowd, the beach, the sky, all of it was going away. She glanced down to her trembling hand to realize she too was uncoiling. She would have cried out in alarm if she still had a mouth.
What had happened? Where was she?
Her memory of everything since losing her leg was blurry at best. She was no longer bonded to Smaug. Something had happened to cause that. Probably the end of their campaign against the unmaking. But the more she thought about it, the less it felt like she was resting in a nice, comfy, infirmary bed. In addition, she was pretty sure she couldn’t imagine wiggling the toes on a leg that had been blown off quite as vividly as she currently could. Things must have ended up complicated again.
With a thoroughly begrudging effort, Shallan opened her eyes again. The sky above her was the brightest blue. The buzzing sound she heard was the rhythmic cycle of waves upon a beach. A beach she had seemingly washed up on. She didn’t feel soaking wet, so she must have been lying there for quite some time. With a listless sigh, Shallan forced herself into a sitting position. The ocean stretched out in front of her to the horizon, blue and shining without rock or island to break the line between water and sky. The beach sand looked shinier than she remembered the islands had, but admittedly she had scarcely had time to take in the scenery in that series of airborne assaults. And she had been seeing the whole thing through Smaug’s eyes.
Presently, Shallan noticed that she was not the only person on the beach. There were no small number of people, some dressed familiarly, some more outlandish, but none who looked particularly like they “belonged” here on the shore. Then again, neither did she. They were heading away from the water, she noted, with a uniform sort of patient walking. With a huff, she rose to her feet, brushing what sand she could from the hem of her havah dress. Turning to look in the direction the others were heading, she beheld what could only be described as a morass of beings. They were all milling about and waiting in lines to some destination that Shallan couldn’t make out.
With minor trepidation, she moved to the edge of the crowd, trying to get a sense of what she’d even be waiting for. Her efforts to eavesdrop proved fruitless however, as the people were barely even speaking to one another. It was a surprisingly peaceful crowd, given the size of things, no arguing or shoving. Instead an air nervous anticipation hung above the whole situation but the flow of people was so smooth and natural that Shallan didn’t even realize that she’d taken place in one of the winding lines. How had she managed to make it through that large a crowd so quickly?
As she debated whether to step out of the line a robed and hooded figure passed along one side, it was a bit too tall to be human, but she couldn’t make out any facial features inside the cloak. It was proceeding along with an air of authority, handing out a small item to each of the people waiting.
“Please keep these in hand while you wait, they’ll help to speed up the process. Oh, with your bare hand, miss, thank you.”
Shallan took the offered gemstone with her freehand, and the robed figure continued down the line without further comment, repeating its declaration as it continued to hand out gemstones. She peered at the gemstone curiously, holding it up to the light to try to get a sense for its opacity. It was only then that she realized that there was no light to hod it up to. The entire beach was caught in a sort of pre-dawn glow. Like the sun was just waiting over the horizon. It was a pleasant sight, but slightly startling when Shallan tried to align it with how long she’d been here.
How long had she been here? After all, that crowd had been massive, and this line while far from stagnant, still stretched over the sand dunes and out of sight. It couldn’t still be a rising down for this long, surely?
She was still pondering the implications when she found herself at the front of the line. She blinked in alarm, then slowly took the seat offered to her by another of the hooded and robed individuals.
“Hello, may I have that gemstone? It has been listening to your soulsong while you waited in line and should help with the efficiency of your posthumous processing.”
Ah. There it was.
All of the questions snapping into place with the stark clarity of a belltower’s toll.
“I suppose that in the grand scheme of things, it would have been entirely too convenient that dying in the Crossroads would have brought me to the Tranquiline halls.” Shallan murmured dejectedly.
“Mmm, I am afraid that decision is not my jurisdiction precisely, Miss. We are only here to assess the legitimacy of your soul, not to judge its merit for the hereafter.”
“Pardon?” Shallan frowned again, simultaneously relieved and concerned by the statement, “Then you are…?”
“Our order’s official title is the First Step to Eternal Perfection.” The hooded figure made a symbolic gesture with its taloned hands that Shallan didn’t recognize, “But to most people we are generally known as paradise’s bureaucracy.”
Shallan’s trepidation did not abate at that explanation.
“That’s a necessary thing?”
“It’s er… it’s become an increasing problem these last couple of years I am afraid. Death has always been a tricky subject for those beings who reside in the Crossroads. Folks here have a tendency to make… let us call it return trips for lack of a better word. Add onto that mess the ultimate state of the souls of Unmade beings, and the potential fate of the quasi-real soldiers some groups are starting to employ to bolster their blood counts and it quickly becomes an actuarial nightmare to tell who’s even really dying or not these days!”
“I… really?” Shallan was finding herself put on the back foot by the frankness of this conversation. To have something like her soul and eternal fate be discussed like she was speaking to a bank teller was unnerving to say the least. “And that all has to be sorted through scientifically, I imagine?”
“As much as you can, though, soul science drifts into metaphysics without even trying to. We’ve actually had to create significant amounts of new categories to handle the wide array of things that reside in the crossroads, and that only makes the situations more complicated when you come across the people who are still managing to break the systems of organization we’ve created!”
The figure tapped at the gemstone briefly with one of its talons, then sighed.
“And this is exactly what I mean! You’re reading as three different souls, one of which is owed a reincarnation! I don’t suppose you were a necromancer or some sort of soul-splicer in life? That would at least make the case shut and dry.”
“Afraid not…” Shallan answered, though it didn’t seem prudent to offer this being any shortcuts when it came to a discussion like this. This think almost seemed to be looking for an excuse not to consider her case fully.
“No… I don’t see any evidence of binding, all of the involved parties agreed to the bond willingly…” The hooded being gave an exasperated sigh.
She would be better off saying nothing, she knew that, but the curiosity burned at her brain like a hot knife. “Is it really that hard to tell which soul matches the body?”
“We, er… It’s against policy to discuss too much metaphysics with a being that might be returning to the world. To put it simply, I don’t have your body to compare it to. What you’re perceiving right now is more of a… metaphorical existence. It’s a way for your uh… your self to interact with this space in a way that isn’t too disconcerting for you. It's personalized too, so I can’t tell what you’re seeing, or tell you what it looks like to anyone else waiting in the line either.”
“Ohh, so that’s why there aren’t as many sea monsters and zombies in the line as there were back on Opealon?”
The figure gave a non-committal shrug, which briefly sent Shallan into a dangerous spiral of questions about how a thing that didn’t really have a body could be communicating in a non-verbal manner.
“At any rate, I’m going to have to dump you into a soul-searching scenario to figure out which of those signatures is the real you. One moment.”
The being extended a taloned hand, glowing lines spreading from its fingers into an intricate design. It twisted the expanding glyph and Shallan felt her world splinter. Her perception twisted, spiraled slices of the image before her uncoiling and falling away. The crowd, the beach, the sky, all of it was going away. She glanced down to her trembling hand to realize she too was uncoiling. She would have cried out in alarm if she still had a mouth.