Multiple sources have now confird that Leire Gabarain has died under violent circumstances, and that ndian knows the identity of Stellars new bearer. A reliable single source indicates that the bearer is outside of the ndiko power structure and hostile to them.
This represents an unprecedented opportunity in the dostic and foreign arenas. Cohesion in the Batzar will suffer greatly as long as Stellar remains with a hostile foreign force, potentially compromising the ability of ndians military to project beyond its borders. Every effort should be made to identify the new bearer and ensure they remain free of both ndiko and Safid influence.
Unrest will present an opportunity to remobilize recently-arrived military forces. Deploynt of emotional state managent personnel is largely as-expected as we approach the planned handover to Assembly control; continue under plan variant 3-A-Defensive until clearance is given to comnce 3-B-Aggressive.
- Institute Circular #3551, 37 Gleaning 693.
A small boy played in a flat, pushing a wooden horse across the floor. His focus was only halfhearted; his parents were yelling in the other room, tense and frightened voices seeping under a closed door. The argunt ended when his father stord out, sparing a glance for the boy before continuing through the door. It was the last ti he would see his father.
The boy remained with his mother, who grew wan and pale; there was work in town, but none of the Safid would hire a nonbeliever. She fought with-
Michaels mind detached from the stream of mory for a dizzying mont, the impressions blasting apart into inchoate sound and color. His thoughts were sluggish, but he knew this wasnt right; he had felt Unais death coming. What he saw was not ndian, however. The boy was Daressan by birth, and apparently Safid by nationality. Had he been mistaken? Was Unai originally from the continent? Was this even the life of Leires valet?
He looked back at the roiling mass of light. It was, in the end, irrelevant what Michael had expected. The skein of a mans life was before him. It demanded respect. He cald his thoughts, marshaling the other flas within him to steady him, ground him against the flood.
Light seeped through him; in his minds eye it coursed in a radiant stream through his veins, shoring up what was Michael against the tide of unrelenting other that pressed in around him. His head cleared. Just before the tide bore him upward to the waking world, though, he turned.
Whatever this was - whoever - he wanted to see. Slowly, it began again.
The boys mother was alone. His father had gone long ago, never to return, and his grandparents had cut all contact when his mother began attending Safid services - but for a believer there was work, and food.
For a believers child, there was school. He began attending services with his mother, and in the childrens circle they read tales from the Book of Eight Verses. Seer, Seeker, Caller, Speaker, Ember, Sunlight, Sword and Stone. The stories fascinated him, so unlike the tales of naughty children and wise animals that his mother told him late at night. He preferred stories of the Great Mountain, who bore up under all struggle, and the Great Caller, who saw hope even in the darkest monts.
He grew older and learned of the world. Life in Agnec was far from the front, but still the War made itself felt in little ways. The stories shifted, lost the gauzy shape of a fable; those characters he had treasured were real. He learned of the Fla that guided their people, the Seeker that lurked in shadows to prey on the unwary.
Partisans struck a market square while his mother was shopping, seeking to burn supplies for the Safid garrison. Caught between soldiers and rebels, she strayed near death - but found life instead when a Safid officer ran to pull her to safety. The two of them moved to a better part of town, and the boy had a father once more.
His path grew clearer each year. He followed in his stepfathers footsteps, enlisting in the garrison. The training was the hardest thing he had ever done, though the physical strain was nothing next to the worry he felt at being so distant from his beloved mother. He wrote to her at every opportunity, and fell asleep each night wishing he could see her.
One night, he found that he could.
The young mans path shifted; the gift of a Seers soul pulling him away from the trenches. He lurked in hidden observation posts, watching and reporting as other n died - sotis to gunfire, more often to the brutality of souls. He was at Azim Alsu when the great Blade ca, that legendary soul more beautiful than anything the young man had ever seen. n tested themselves against it and fell like grass - but one day his sight grew cloudy, and the Blade departed.
Reconnaissance was a ga of whispers. A squadmate who could Listen overheard that the Seeker had fled north with the Caller in tow. That the Blade had pursued, and been brought low when the Caller spoke thunder and fire against him. A forgotten piece of mory ca alight.
He began to read through field reports, piecing together a new story of the Caller for the curious boy within him. He heard the Flas proclamation that the Heart-Eater had been found, but his fascination only intensified; this was the man who would test the world. He had known, sohow, the divine within him focusing his attention on what others had missed. The revelation spurred him to request a transfer to forward duty. The path bent towards danger, but it was so clear in the young mans mind that there was no question of turning aside.
The first ti he saw Michael Baumgarts face was when the ndiko attacked Leik. He was hidden away in the forest, his squad tasked with observing ndians tactics and strength. The young man saw Baumgart fight the Blades second - and leave him alive.
It contradicted what he knew of the Heart-Eater, the rapacious fiend who sought to devour all in his path. His squad stayed close to the ndiko advance, and the young man continued to watch the Great Caller. He saw Baumgart throw himself between a Safid ambush and his own n, saw him carry a wounded artifex back from the lines.
They pulled back before the ndiko made their final push, but the young man saw the flare of the Great Lights attack against the Mountain from far along the road back to Agnec. She arrived looking like a charred corpse; the young man distracted himself from the interminable tension of waiting by watching the anatontes heal her inch by inch, their souls weighed down by her colossal divinity.
The Fla ca to wait by her side, holding her ruined hand and speaking words that the young man could not hear; the two great souls smiled at each other constantly, full of hope and joy even as she lay half-burnt on the gurney.
He was awoken in the early morning by the garrisons alarm; the young man spilled out of his bunk in a panic, casting his sight around frantically for the enemy - but there was none.
There was only one man, riding a staggering horse. The animal fell to the ground drooling blood, his rider standing to look at the low walls of Agnec in the distance.
Michael was jarred from the flow of the recollection as he saw Lucs face; it seed to hang motionless before him for an eternal mont. He did not pause long, dreadful curiosity pushing him onward. The dream blurred back into motion.
Luc began to walk towards the distant city. He was challenged by a sentry, but the man had scarcely spoken before Luc began to shine with a harsh light, speaking words that sent the lookouts scrambling back to their posts. The young man heard terse, shouted instructions at his own post: the visitor was a holy man, a great soul, and he was not to be touched.
He was ant for the Great Fla, and none other.
But the young man knew Lucs face; he had seen Baumgart speak with his friend the Healer. That sa man now shone with light that no Healer could wield, and a dark suspicion took root in the young mans mind. He brought his sight back to the confines of his body, seeking out his post commander. The man told him to be silent, and to heed the Great Flas wisdom.
The young man wrenched his sight back to the walls, where the Great Fla stood with his arms wide, a beatific smile on his face. Luc stepped forward. His eyes were fixed, deadened; frost ford around him as he extended his arm and spoke a single word, his lips spitting the epithet forth with such clarity that even in soundless Sight it was unmistakable.
Murderer.
Dawn touched the land outside the wall, the frost sublimating into dancing steam as light sprang from Lucs outstretched hand. n flinched and cried out, shielding their eyes - but the Great Fla only smiled wider. The light failed to reach him, and between the two n the air began to darken and shimr with scorching heat. Lucs eyes widened, then narrowed; the light intensified. The heat intensified.
Slowly, darkness crept forward. The Great Fla looked untroubled by the light; by contrast, Lucs teeth were bared, sweat beading on his brow. The light wavered. Luc dropped to one knee, the darkness surged forward - and paused.
The young man was reminded of the epic, expressive paintings that Saf had commissioned all across Agnec, showing scenes from the Book. Lucs face was twisted in rage, his fingers digging into the thin dirt at his feet. The Great Flas eyes had shifted from joy to surprise, looking down at the thin spire of rock that had grown up to pierce him in the side. It was still, and silent.
A gunshot shattered the frozen mont, then another; Luc jerked backwards as a bullet punched through his shoulder. He grimaced, one hand flinging up stone walls around him while the other pressed against the wound. Monts later he wiped away the blood to show unbroken skin. Gunfire and ethereal Blades marked the stone shields he had erected, answered a mont later by a thin line of light that traced across the wall.
n died. The Great Fla staggered backward off the spike that had impaled him, realization fading to sothing hard and unyielding even as soldiers pulled him to safety. The young man knew what the Fla saw. In his heart he had always thought of Michael Baumgart as the Great Caller, the proclamations from on high notwithstanding; he knew all of the stories. He knew the Caller when he saw him.
In the light spearing out from churning, screaming stone he saw just as clearly. It was written in the recognition on the Flas face, in the disbelieving murmurs from a hundred lips, in the gasping agony of soldiers writhing blistered and burnt atop the wall.
The young Seer knew his role in this story well, for it was the Seers place to shout the truth for all to hear. He stood from his sheltered place and raced up to the wall, leaving behind the frantic shouts from his post commander. The turbulent air stank of char and tal, the sky teeming with clouds.
Heart-eater! he cried, casting an accusing finger across the burnt plain. So n turned to look, others echoed the cry. In the distance, a ragged shape of blood and char vaulted over the wall with painful grace. Luc saw, and the light followed. The young man watched soldiers burst into sweet steam at its caress, drawing ever-closer. Heart-eater! He who seeks to supplant-
There was a flash of light and heat and pain, fast as blinking, and Michael stood looking at the unassuming orb of a soul as it hung lambent against the void. His hand reached out towards it, feeling the dancing flas lick at his fingers. There was no conflict, no resistance - only the feel of a footfall landing upon the last stone of a long and twisting path.
Michael woke to find Unai kneeling beside him, the old mans hand on his brow - but his vision swam with oppressive detail, every line sharp and hyperreal. He pulled back by instinct and found his sight reeling away through the corridors of the airship until he saw morning sun reflecting from its tal skin. He soared upwards, flying above trees and rolling hills, exhilarated and free - and then saw a patch of darkness swelling in the distance, clouds swirling around a flickering, burning light.
He flew towards the distant calamity, though he could already feel himself approaching the limit of his sight. Michael paused before it beca uncomfortable; it was a staggering distance, far greater than he had seen the young man achieve in his dreams. In midair, over the dwindling shape of the airship, he watched distant flares of cold light ripple through the storm.
After a few long monts he pulled back to his body, opening his eyes; he felt tears streak across his face with the motion. Unai was looking down at him with no small amount of concern and relief. Young master Baumgart? he asked tentatively.
Im fine, Michael rasped.
Unai raised an eyebrow. You ca running back in here in so distress, he said. And then collapsed into unconsciousness on my floor. Perhaps in Ardan Gharic the word ans sothing different.
Its not whats important right now, Michael grunted, rising to his feet. He t Unais eyes. I need to talk to Antolin. Luc is at Agnec.
There was a pause; Michael felt the shock of the news as Unai registered it. The old man was nodding monts later, however. Then we should go, he said.
It was Michaels turn to raise an eyebrow, but he did not comnt on Unais sudden shift in attitude. He only nodded, and turned towards the door.
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