Trinity of Magic

Akasha stood in the center of the command deck.

Of the screens that were supposed to show the entire world below in a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view, less than half were still functional.

That was also how she felt in that moment.

Reduced. Broken. Dysfunctional.

With most of her sight stripped away and her [Telepathy] disrupted, she felt a sense of powerlessness she had never experienced before.

As a being of thought and logic, the concept of annoyance made little sense to her. But the part of her that was now flesh and blood experienced it vividly. It was like an itch she couldn’t scratch. A festering wound in a place her fingers couldn’t reach. Akasha tried to ignore it, but the longer it lasted, the worse it seemed to get.

The worst part of it was the knowledge that it didn’t matter what she did. It didn’t matter how annoyed she was at the current state of affairs.

Nothing she did now could change anything.

They were losing. She was losing.

No.

She had already lost.

The moment she had lowered her defenses to receive the first of the refugees, she had already lost. The damage to the Alexandria was catastrophic. All systems were impaired. Vision. Movement. Defense. Offense.

No amount of raw Mana could compensate for broken arrays, ruptured channels, and shattered control structures. And she, in her current form, couldn’t do anything. To even begin the repairs, she would need to return to her Host. Without his Core, without the ability to sustain that level of output, she would only deplete herself by taking on such a project.

No…

Her problems went beyond that. She could barely contend with the enemy airships as they were. She could only watch as more and more forces began to slip away. Soon, they would descend on her allies below, wreaking havoc on the forces that were already stretched paper-thin.

It would be a massacre.

And there was nothing she could do about it.

In that moment, Akasha felt a strange emotion well up inside her. And, despite how much she wanted it to be so, she couldn’t attribute it solely to her physical body this time. It was an emotion that came from the deepest part of her being.

She wished…

She wished that her Host were here.

She wished to be reunited with him.

Though she had no idea how the situation would be different if they were together, a strange part of her somehow believed that everything would be fine if they were. Her Host was capable of conjuring miracles. Even after exhausting every conceivable avenue, he would always come up with something she wouldn’t have been able to think of.

That was the type of person he was.

Akasha had to admit it.

She needed him.

She had pushed for her independence, thinking that she could be more effective on her own. But now, in this moment of crisis, she realized, for the first time, what it truly meant to hold the responsibility she had craved.

Her Host had trusted her. Trusted her with his ship. Trusted her with his people. Trusted her with everything he possessed, even his own life.

And she had failed.

It was as simple as that.

One variable had been overlooked, one tiny flaw in her thinking, and just like that, a thousand correct choices had ceased to matter.

But once again, her thoughts didn’t matter.

All she could do was try her best to uphold the status quo for as long as possible. She would do so gladly, up to the point when they would eventually come for her after dealing with all her allies.

Amid those gloomy thoughts, one of the still functioning panels suddenly displayed something strange. A smear of red that seemed to grow larger and larger.

Akasha’s body froze, her eyes locking onto the southwest quadrant of the battlefield.

It was where the retreating Wind Mages had been gathering. The force that would soon bring doom to her allies. They were already out of reach, and any attempt to intercept them was immediately met with a violent response from the Destroyers locking her down.

But now…

They were fighting.

Winged creatures.

An army of them.

Then, she saw it.

On the back of an especially large beast stood the person she had wanted to see most.

Ezekiel.

His expression was leisurely as he seemed to chat with the leader of the Wind Mages, the woman who had been single-handedly responsible for coordinating the attack on the Alexandria.

But her Host was talking to her and looking at her as if she were nothing but a pest.

And then, after only a few sentences, he shooed her away.

As if dismissing a servant.

Or waving off a pesky insect.

To Akasha’s surprise, the woman actually retreated. Despite the fact that her men, her elite troop, were being slaughtered, the woman actually retreated.

Akasha could hardly believe it.

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She had tried to follow the conversation by reading their lips, but Zeke’s face had been turned away, and the woman’s had been hidden by the bulk of the winged creature carrying him.

Shortly after, the Wind Mages were all dead.

Then Zeke, who seemed to be in charge of this new army, directed them toward the Destroyers.

Akasha watched as first one, then three, and finally all six of the Destroyers threatening her fell from the sky after being invaded by those savage creatures.

Finally, the pressure around her thoughts loosened.

Finally, the Alexandria could move again.

But just as the pressure around her thoughts began to ease, she noticed the shift in her Host.

His relaxed mask vanished. His attention snapped upward, and it didn’t take long for Akasha to realize why.

The swarm of creatures had turned its sight on the Alexandria.

Were they going to attack her next?

Akasha quickly ran the calculations.

The results were not promising.

She could likely prevent less than a third of them from invading the ship. And once they were inside, she wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop them anymore.

There were no defensive arrays to attack intruders inside the ship. She would have to report that weakness to her Host… if they somehow survived this.

Akasha focused on her Host, who was glaring at the apparent leader of the swarm. This time, she could read the words from his lips.

“I made you. Don’t force my hand.”

Made them?

So, these were creatures her Host had created? Since when did he have such capabilities? And more importantly, why would he deploy something so unstable?

The answer came to her the same instant she asked herself the question.

Because of her.

Because of her mistake.

That was why he had been forced to use a spell he had no confidence in. A spell that now seemed to be turning on its owner.

Fortunately, her Host’s threat seemed to work. The swarm of creatures retracted its greedy gazes a few moments later.

Her Host pointed them toward the Legion next, seemingly offering them up as sacrifices in her place.

But the creatures didn’t move.

They didn’t accept.

Ezekiel grew visibly agitated, but the creatures still wouldn’t budge.

Akasha scanned the battlefield to search for the reason for their reluctance.

A new troop was marching toward the front. An elite battalion of Fire Mages, led by an Archmage. They were strong. Too strong for her allies to handle. If the Wind Mages had been a constant thorn that would chip away at their strength, this new force would wash over them like a burst dam.

She understood.

Even before hearing the reason, she understood.

These creatures understood the battlefield. More importantly, they understood their own value within it.

The words that followed from the creature’s mouth only confirmed her guess.

“They will all die.”

The creature had stated it outright.

Even if her Host had the power to kill or unmake them, they knew he wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

Her Host needed these creatures. Otherwise, his allies would die. He had no more leverage.

Intelligent.

Transactional.

Merciless.

Despite detesting the method, Akasha had to respect the guile these creatures showed. They had made perfect use of the only leverage they had to escape a situation with no good outcome.

They had turned on their creator and forced his back against the wall.

Akasha might have applauded them, if the creator they had cornered hadn’t been her Host.

And if the chain they had wrapped around his throat hadn’t been forged from her failure.

No. She wouldn’t let that stand. She couldn’t. Not this time.

Even if she would never be able to make up for her blunder today, she would not allow the situation to spiral even further out of control.

Her Host had created a miracle for her, and now, it was on her to create a miracle for him…

***

Zeke stared at the golden Shade.

It stared back at him.

This bastard.

It knew. Damn it. It knew.

For the first time, Zeke realized that his own brilliance had come back to bite him. He had been ecstatic when developing the concept of the Hive. Space, Blood, and Mind combined. A creature that could possess an infinite number of bodies, each contributing to the network.

Making it smarter.

And smarter.

And smarter.

Damn it all. Why did this thing have to be so smart?

No. Intelligence wasn’t the real problem.

Its ego was.

That hateful personality it had adopted after the infusion of draconic blood. It reminded him strongly of someone close to him. It reminded him of that cunning Dragon who had schemed to take his body when he had only been a boy.

He heard Khai’Zar chuckle in the back of his mind. “That’s what you get for trying to put chains on a Dragon, whelp. I told you long ago: We would rather die than live that way. You didn’t believe me, did you, whelp?”

Zeke ignored him.

He had truly underestimated the effect the infusion of Draconic Blood would have on the personality of his creation. It seemed that, all this time, Khai’Zar had not overstated the characteristics of Dragons at all.

Pride was quite literally embedded into their very being. What lovely creatures they must be…

But it was far too late for regrets now.

Zeke took a deep breath. He had played his cards to the best of his ability, and this was the outcome. He couldn’t blame anybody but himself for how the chips had landed.

Now, the only thing he could do was make the best of it.

He exhaled slowly, letting all the rage and anger drain away with it.

“It seems we have reached an impasse,” he said.

The golden Shade watched him with its emotionless face, but Zeke could tell that it was intensely curious about what he would do.

“Though the experiment ended in failure, I am still grateful for the learning opportunity. If I get the chance, I will do better next time…”

At his last words, the entire army, the full one thousand Shades, began to deform.

The change started at their feet, but quickly spread to their legs and torsos. Their bodies stretched, narrowed, and fused together, turning into giant floating spikes. A thousand jagged lances of blood, their tips slowly angling toward the advancing Fire Mages below.

The golden Shade watched it all happen without protest.

It seemed more curious than afraid.

“You… are… destroying… us?”

Its speech had become a little more natural. If left alone, it would likely be able to talk like a human soon.

Not that it would get the chance.

“You have left me with little choice,” Zeke explained calmly. “A weapon that turns in my hand is worse than useless.”

The Shade looked down at its deforming body, and then at the army advancing below them.

“You… plan… to use… our bodies… as weapons?”

Zeke glanced at it. “A thousand spears should be able to do some damage. What do you think?”

“It will not… be enough.”

“I know.” Zeke looked over again. “Last chance to change your mind.”

“You… will die.”

“Most likely.”

The creature smiled. The expression looked grotesque on its distorting face, but Zeke could somehow tell that it was meant as a gesture of goodwill.

“I wish… your rule… had been stronger.”

Zeke’s expression turned wistful.

“So do I.”

He focused his mind.

He would only get a single chance at this. One strike. He would need to do as much damage as possible, then try to finish off as many as he could in the ensuing chaos.

And then, after all that, he would have to stall the Archmage as best he could.

His smile turned bitter.

Yep. He would definitely die.

Okay.

It was go time.

Zeke gathered the thousand spears around him.

Then he froze.

The Alexandria was moving.

What… was Akasha doing?

The ship was clearly on course to intercept the approaching army. But with the Alexandria in such a state, she stood no chance of stopping them. This looked like suicide.

And yet, despite knowing that, Zeke halted his attack.

“Why… stop?” the Shade asked as it slowly returned to its previous form. “That… broken thing… cannot… stop them.”

Zeke grinned but didn’t offer any explanation.

If Akasha was making a move, it meant that she understood the situation, understood his plan, and had come up with something more promising.

A moment later, the Alexandria halted in the air before the army.

Zeke watched as a figure appeared on the broken hatch. But before he could make out who it was, the Legion struck.

The [Feuerkranz] appeared above the leader’s head, and with it came dominion over every flame on the battlefield.

A moment later, every single Mage charging behind him conjured a spell at the same time. Hundreds of Fireballs rose into the air and, under the control of their leader, joined together as one.

The resulting flame looked powerful enough to turn the Alexandria to ash.

It did not fly so much as lurch forward, dragged by the Archmage’s will faster than its size had any right to move.

But before it could reach the ship, the spell began to deform. As if a great suction force had been applied to it, a tip formed. Soon, the entire spell warped, forced into a funnel that ended at the very hatch where the figure had appeared earlier.

Then, gradually, its entire mass was drawn to that one spot. Until, finally, the raging inferno disappeared as if it had never existed.

Only then could Zeke get a good look at the figure standing on that hatch.

Charcoal-black skin.

Fiery lines across his body.

A wide grin on his face.