Chapter 145: Book 3: A Peek Behind the Curtain


    I stare ahead into the empty space in front of me, my entire body on alert. I can feel the hairs on my body standing on end like a static charge is passing over me—every instinct I have screams at me that something''s <em>here</em>, and that that something is dangerous. Fight-or-flight tells me to run, to turn and get away as fast as I can.


    But I don''t see anything in front of me. It''s empty space.


    Until it isn''t.


    Something changes between one moment and the next, and suddenly there''s something standing in front of me: something old and ancient, rusted with time and seething with entropy.


    "<strong>Hello.</strong>" The greeting rattles around in my skull, making me wince. I grit my teeth against it. "<strong>You must be my Heir.</strong>"


    I don''t respond immediately,rgely because it takes me a moment to even be able to parse what''s standing in front of me. As far as I can tell, it''s a suit of armor fused with a humanoid, draconic skeleton; the gilded pattern on its armor continues straight up into its skull and wraps around seven misced eyesockets, and several thick golden tendrils trail from the back of its skull to its shoulders, almost like hair.


    It''s disconcerting, I have to admit. I''ve seen a lot of different things in my time on Hestia, but whatever this is, it feels <em>wrong</em> in a way that''s hard to ce—like its very existence flies in the face of logic and reason.


    ...And then there''s a cough. It clears its throat once, and then a second time, and when it speaks again, its voice doesn''t rattle in my head quite so much. "My apologies. It''s been a while since I''ve been able tomunicate with anyone—my memory of the rules are a little rusty. This should be better, yes?"


    "Yes," I say, a little thrown off by the sudden change. I''m cautious, but it seems... friendly?"I am Kauku." The entity in front of me bows slightly in greeting. "You will not have heard of me, but you <em>have</em> met me before. The Interface would only call on me to appear if you are my Heir. I assume you have retrieved a Talent?"


    "...I was able to retrieve the ability to Anchor, yes." I examine Kauku closely. The more I look at him, the more he seems less... intimidating, less <em>wrong</em>, even though nothing about his appearance changes. It''s like he''s actively adapting to the world around him. Stranger still, I have no memory of meeting him. What does he mean, we''ve met before?


    "I remember when I first made that discovery." Kauku''s voice is fond, like he''s reminiscing. He smiles at me. "You seem to have a strong soul. I''m pleased it was one such as you that managed to awaken me."


    "I''m afraid I don''t really know what you''re talking about," I say. "What are you? Why are you <em>here</em>?"


    "All in due time," Kauku says. "First, you have a selection to make."


    Around me, the world <em>changes</em>.


    This isn''t anything like how Gheraa presents Inspirations to me. Gheraa makes a show out of it—he puts the Inspirations on pedestals, sets up a stage, and basically announces every option I have. He uses Firmament to make the props, and though I''ve never been able to sense where the Inspirationse from, everything he''s able to do makes sense to me.


    Kauku, on the other hand? All he does is wave a hand. I don''t sense any use of Firmament, and yet everything around me is suddenly different. I''m no longer standing on a ledge by Isthanok. Instead, I''m floating in an empty void, with three abstract, rotating shapes in front of me. Inspect doesn''t work on them, and calling them <em>shapes</em> is already generous.


    "What are these?" I ask. Looking at them makes my teeth ache, and I turn my gaze away.


    "Your Inspirations." There''s a lilt in Kauku''s voice that''s yfully teasing. "Different from the usual fare, I understand, but these are rather more powerful than the ones you''re usually offered. Although... it <em>does</em> seem you have some of my children rattling around in you."


    "I have what?" I blink, a little nonplussed.


    "They''re afraid toe out, I think." Kaukuughs lightly. "I don''t me them. The creation of an Inspiration is always a little tricky; you can never guarantee they''lle out like you''ll expect. Void''s always hungry, and elerate doesn''t like to talk."


    This doesn''t even begin to answer any of my questions. I open and close my mouth soundlessly for a moment, then finallynd on something to ask. "You said they were your <em>children</em>?"


    "Just a figure of speech." Kauku smiles at me, folding his arms behind his back. "I created them, and they are alive; it would be cruel to call them anything else. I regret that they had to be included in the Interface, in truth. If it were possible, I would have tried to raise them myself."


    I suppose that''s nothing new, but... jeez. It recontextualizes the way they make demands, the way they tend to act on their own. "I don''t think I''m equipped to raise Inspirations, if that''s what you were expecting me to do.


    Kauku chuckles in response. "Hardly," he assures me. "The issue is moreplex than you might think. They are... half-lives, you might say. Alive, but only when lending you their power or being spoken to. And their ability to assimte new experiences is limited. Until you''re as powerful as I am, it''s unlikely they can grow to fruition within you."


    "I have no idea if that makes me feel better," I say bluntly, partly because it feels like he just called me weak. I''m still not sure what to make of him, but he doesn''t seem to be <em>malicious</em>; if anything, he''s just a little out of touch.


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    I sigh, putting it out of my mind. I have more important things to worry about, like the reason I''m here in the first ce. The Inspirations that Kauku created are still there, floating gently in the air. "You said these are different from the usual?"


    "They are indeed." Kauku almost seems proud of himself. "You understand what Inspirations are, yes?"


    "They''re... modifiers." I hesitate slightly as I answer—they''re a little more than that, but I don''t have the words to describe them.


    The draconic skeleton seems pleased, nheless. "urate, if a little iplete," he praises. "Skills are Firmament constructs you hold within your soul. Inspirations allow you to modify those constructs. The difference is not purely academic: the structure of the skill itself is different while the Inspiration is acting on it."


    "And what''s different about these?" I ask.


    "The difference," Kauku says, "is that an Inspiration changes only one thing at a time. A single skill. These do not change the structure of a skill."


    I look at the Inspirations again—really look at them. Staring at them too long makes my head pound, and getting too close introduces a strange sensation of crackling electricity all throughout my body. If I squint, stretch my senses, and try to peer <em>through</em> the abstract shape, I can almost see something simr to what my past Inspirations have looked like.


    They look abstract because they''re a level above what I''m able to parse at my current level.


    Ie to a realization. "These change the structure of my Firmament."


    "Correct." Kauku grins at me with sharp, metallic teeth; he seems to enjoy the revtion. "Traditionally, an Inspiration changes a single skill. They work that way for a reason: it''s safer. Changing the structure of your Firmament, on the other hand... that''s dangerous."


    "Because my Firmament embodies who I am." I step closer to the Inspirations. Not to make a choice—not yet, anyway—but to see what more I can learn from them.


    "That''s part of the risk," Kauku agrees. "I''d say it''s a small risk, actually. If the foundations of your first few phase shifts are strong enough, you''ll be fine. The bigger risk is that these Inspirations tend to leave a mark on you when you use them. The more you use them, the greater the risk a change might be permanent."


    "Can that be avoided?" I ask.


    "Of course!" Kauku almost seems offended at the question. "Any sufficiently skilled practitioner can use these without a problem. Of course, we''re greatlycking skilled practitioners these days... but you''re my Heir. You''ll be fine."


    "You''re very sure of that." I turn to eye Kauku; he just shrugs in a surprisingly human ''what can I say'' sort of motion. "You can''t at least tell me what each of these are?"


    Kauku sighs and strides over. "You''ll have to learn to see them yourself eventually," he says sternly. "But since you''re just starting out, I suppose I can assist."


    He points at the leftmost shape. "Warrior."


    Now that he mentions it, I can sense within that shape the idea of... strength. Of recklessness and brutality.


    "Schr." Kauku taps on the second shape. I catch a glimpse of vast, impossiblendscapes. Of <em>knowledge</em>, shaped into a weapon.


    He moves on to the third, and this time, before he speaks, I start to sense what it is. He says it anyway. "Knight."


    That one sings with power. There''s something different about it—something that echoes within Kauku himself. I see steel and armor, but they seem like an illusion, ced to distract; somewhere deeper in this Inspiration lies... a well. A deeper source of power.


    I''m stepping closer to it before I realize what I''m doing, and although I don''t reach out quite yet, I''m sorely tempted.


    "Made your choice?" Kauku asks. His voice is carefully neutral; I can''t tell what he thinks of my pick.


    "Not quite yet." I force myself to take a step away from the pedestals and toward Kauku. He raises an eyebrow at me, intrigued. "I know you said all in due time, but frankly, I''d like some answers <em>now</em>, and if I make my choice we aren''t going to be able to talk anymore." Technically I have a few more Inspirations I can trigger, but nothing about them is certain at the moment. "What do you mean when you call me your Heir? And what''s this about us meeting before? What role do you y in all this?"


    I hesitate, then push on to myst question. It''s a bit of a stretch, but... "Did you <em>make</em> the Interface?"


    Kauku doesn''t respond at first. Instead, he spends an ufortable moment studying my expression. "There are limits to what I can tell you," he says eventually. "I''m not the only yer in this game, and we have rules we have to follow."


    Not this again. The wordse out before I can stop them. "People have died. Fuck your rules."


    My voice is colder than I intended. Kauku stares at me as though he''s expecting me to take my words back.


    I do not.


    Seven skeletal eye sockets narrow slightly, but then a smile steals across his face. "You <em>do</em> have a strong soul," he says, pleased. "It seems I may have made an error in calling it a game. My apologies. The Interface''s trantor is excellent, but it is not perfect. The point is, there are other individuals as powerful as I, and there will be consequences should I give you all the answers you seek."


    I bristle, but force myself to calm. There''s always something more, isn''t there? Kauku seems to sense my indignation, because he smirks at me.


    "That doesn''t mean I can''t <em>bend</em> the rules," he says. "I can''t give you all the answers you''re looking for. But I can make them essible. I can give you direction. And I can help you do something you''re looking to do."


    He leans forward, and the tendrils behind him raise in tandem with the movement, as if excited. "You want to help your friend, don''t you?" he says. "That Integrator—<em>Gheraa</em>, I believe his name was."


    I freeze. "...Yes." There''s both caution and hope in my response.


    "Your suspicions are correct," Kauku tells me. Relief floods through my system. "Integrators are artificial Firmament constructs, and if you have an <em>imprint</em>—like the one you so cleverly saved from the echo he gave you—you can certainly bring them back. I can even tell you that the secret to doing so lies in the heart of the Empty City, so you''re already headed in the right direction.


    "<em>However.</em>


    "The Empty City is far more than just a dungeon." Kauku''s tone changes, bing a little more severe. "You suspect it already. You understand what happens when an Integrator—or any source of Firmament that has made a sufficient mark in the universe—dies. There is history and memory written in that death: history and memory that contains power in its own right. History and memory of great import, even to ancient beings such as I.


    "So I would like to ask for your help." Kauku takes a step forward, spreading his hands apart, almost imploring me. "There''s something in there that''s important to me. A memory. Bring it back to me, and I''ll be able to give you some of those answers <em>and</em> help you save your friend."