Orvane offered no emotion to the change—she couldn't. Her emotions were but another flaw in her design. Instead, there she stood in the changed world, staring at the intruders in her mind space. The chamber of her thoughts—a prior thing.
Now... Merrin was the owner. He knew it by the passing moments, smelled it in the ash-scented air of the world, the tingling across his skin—the awareness that blossomed internally. Somehow, the Grayworld had once again grown bigger. This, it did by consuming the world of others. He knew that now: from the Fallen... and now Orvane.
Taken.
Merrin pitied her—much like the Brightones, she too was a product of casting. Awareness created by the injection of external stimuli. What she was, was a clone. Not even one of true perfection... but a failure.
He took a step, and the bird behind fluttered its massive wings—an odd thing to do. Caster mentation found no reason for such acts... Was it? He pondered. A thing for intimidation? Not that it mattered. For now, Merrin had but one singular objective.
Stop Orvane.
At whatever cost... her war must not reach the surface. But first...
He said, "Stop this now, Orvane. You can stay with your people... Here. Stay here and forget." Please be more than a product of your creation.
She regarded him, passive. "You have somehow taken control of my Cognitive Space—it must be with that world of yours. What is it? No. It reeks of the Cognitive Realm. Impressive that you could build such a thing... Doesn't matter. I suppose you have acquired some measure of omnipotent capabilities due to this act. Full control over my mind, is it? With the right symbols, you could even change my very thoughts and desires... A complex thing, no doubt... Except... you seem to have again forgotten something."
What?
Suddenly, Merrin was drowned with an inkling of intense danger—foreboding chaos. Something was coming. What was it? He turned to the Ardents hovering high into the churning heavens... There they were, like specks of distant darkness... His warriors!
And with that... Merrin Screamed: "STOP HER!"
And like thunder, his voice boomed through the firmament. Loud... And they heeded. Downwards they went—like bolts of true blackness, hurling mindlessly towards the simple woman...
A mistake... he knew that now, for in that moment, Orvane reared her arm and a spear... a bright lance of whiteness curled around her marble fingers, condensing into a weapon of unknown might. No, not unknown. Undeniable power. Yes... And Merrin trembled at its presence—even now, the capabilities of that symbol remained unknown.
But yet... the instincts told of something... What was it?
He shuddered.
A boom rocked the Grayworld, a wave of wind surging out in a frenetic gust, and within them, hurling away, the attacking Ardents were smashed back by the brilliant light. Most turning to dust in the process, some standing with half-bodies—no blood, just forms, divided. Not dead... Merrin knew that...
They were... disrupted somehow.
Their forms were broken, the collective symbol of their wholeness shattered.
"What did you do?"
Orvane offered no response, and again, the spear burned within her grasp—echoing again with that air of impending damnation. Whatever it was... That must never touch me!
"I AM A MOUNTAIN!"
The world was scattered about with orbs of minuscule beads shining, and from beneath them rose mountains. Hills. Rocks that stretched into the high heavens. In a moment, Orvane, before him, was blocked by the stony forms. Would that stop her? No!
In a moment, a spear of light smashed through the stone wall, inches from his face. He felt it—the current of sheer power. He dodged, rolled to the side, waved, and a gust of wind rippled out, bellowing into the figure that leaped into the cracked hole.
Orvane.
She had not expected the swift attack...
The air rammed into her form, sending her flying into the skies—good. Merrin willed the Ardents—the ones with their forms. "Attack her!"
And like a swarm of blackness, they gunned amidst the air, hammering into the still floating Orvane. Merrin heard a whine from afar, grabbed a bead off the earth, broke it, and from the wisp, a brown stone-knife condensed within his grasp.
He dashed for the chaos, curling around his hands—chains. They strained. He leaped, arched into the air, and saw in the distance—Orvane atop a squirming Ardent, her lance in hand. She lifted it, a desire present in that action. She would shatter yet another of his... people?
No!
Merrin reached for the weaves of air—there they were. As expected, within the confines of the Grayworld or its extensions, symbols for some reason remained abundant. That, or he could always turn the spheres to the required symbols, as long as, that is, he knew it in absolute completeness. And for the wind... oh, he knew it in utter totality.
Just then... Within his grasp, curling through his fingers, the weaves twirled, lingered, waited for the marshaled command... And so he gave it.
A Boom, as Orvane, who was inches away from piercing the Ardent, was sent flying, tossing and rolling across the earth. Into a mountain, she halted, denting hard over its hard surface. A vertical crater. Yet she lived, stood even, stones trickling down her fissured skin, face worn with that uncaring passivity.
A prideful man would rage at that detachment... But Merrin... Oh, Merrin was terrified. How was one to hurt stone? Ah... Este... What a woman you must have been that even this version of you is absolute!
And she was before him, instantaneous, spear in hand, white light, puncturing forward.
Mist it!
He reached for the air and found there an Ardent. Good. And he grabbed it and pulled it right before him—a shield. The creature became the receiver, transforming into fumes of darkness as the spear pierced into it. Rather painful—he could only imagine.
Nonetheless.
That bought some measure of time. Needed time.
Precious time that Merrin took with expertness. He marshaled the world, two blocks of stone magnetizing towards Orvane from both sides. She sensed them. Too late, and Merrin flipped, raised a mountain that smashed into the collided rock—with Orvane at the center.
Would she survive?
Yes, she would. For from the peak of the black mount, an explosion rocked the heavens, white light spewing out like a river of fervent waters. Except this wasn't water. This was a forced symbol. Force tunneled into the symbol that rested in her grip. She was preparing for an onslaught.
And here, Merrin was, bewildered, frightened at the possibility that echoed with surety. More of an intuition than a complete awareness, but he knew it—Orvane was doing something. A dangerous venture.
So.
He tossed into the air, at the vortex of light humming off Orvane. Her symbol and its unknown effects of disruption. That, he still swirled within Caster mentation seeking logic within the constant churning waters of chaos.
There was nothing. So up he went, rising both arms—the mountain on which Orvane stood faded. A blink. She plummeted, a meteor of white light that hammered into the earth. Even the beads around the radiance faded, turning into smogs of tenebrosity.
And that... in that instant, fed back into his mind. Disruption—some symbol that caused the breakdown of all things. The wind, the air, the body. Anything struck by the whiteness was dismantled at the symbolic level. Not dead... just broken. As such, enough force and power could inevitably return the shattered. Not that he could cast flesh symbols affected by the disruption.
Not that it mattered at the moment.
That was all he needed... Though there was still the beckoning question of the thing she did within the light. Undoubtedly, there was a strangeness there. But not now. For now, Merrin traced the internal link to all Ardents. And there it was—undestroyed.
They remained... just broken!
"Come to me!" He whispered, and from the sky, from the earth, fumes of blackness curled, hardening into a familiar shape. A creature of oily robes, heads, a swirling mass of darkness. Prime and ready. Who knew I would ever miss those alien things?
"STOP HER!" That command included the bird; thus, as one, they surged forward. The bird prime with its wings of great vastness. Downwards—the light below flickered. And from it... he saw. Orvane, lance in hand, passive... Annoying. But there was another, on the other hand.
What was it?
She looked up to him and clenched. A crack resounded, as fumes of light slowly spilled off her palms. In their wake was a sword—a long silver blade. Oredite!
No! Merrin shuddered—a mistake as Orvane had jumped into the air, hacking through the entourage of Ardents. And like sand, they fell to the earth, fading.
He saw this—gaped. That's my symbol, isn't it? Undoubtedly. That was made from the beads.
Merrin chilled at that moment, heart pounding loud within his ears... What was happening? What had she taken? What had she done? Questions within questions. And in that moment of fervid ponderings, Orvane took the opening.
He blinked, and she was gone—but the awareness of presence remained. What was happening?
Intuition.
He looked down, right below him, there was Orvane, bent, fingers over the surfaces of countless beads... What?
A mountain arose from the earth!