38 I’ll have you know that I’m God’s favorite #2
It took me many attempts, at first. Harder, when I was only energy in the Void, no physical fingers. He swept a hand in front of her.
And the Void rippled.
Ether streamed from his fingers, entire threads billowing black against black. Cold prickled Fi’s skin. No air existed here, yet a breeze ruffled her hair. This infinite place, so empty, so stark, the pressure constricting her chest a constant reminder that she couldn’t linger long.
But for a moment, she watched the beauty of the Void dance at Veshri’s claws.
He released the ether, threads dissolving into nothing. Fi composed herself.
I don’t know how I healed myself, she said. The skin formed on its own.
Veshri nodded. As if this was a perfectly normal conversation.
When you cut your hand, you don’t tell your skin how to reform.
When a child grows, it needn’t think of the direction its bones must take.
The structures are ingrained. I discovered the same.
When I provided material, some concentration, my body knew how to regrow. Still, what you’ve done is… unusual.
Fi bristled. How many times would she have to hear that? She was unusual. Impressive, for a human. Only notable for not acting like the inferior beast she was meant to be.
Why unusual? she thought at him. Because I’m human?
Of course. For a mortal to weave ether, to join it with living flesh—
I think you’ll find humans are capable of many impressive things.
Veshri blinked. Why wouldn’t I?
I’ve dealt with plenty of daeyari who don’t have the highest opinion of mortals.
Young one. He pressed a hand to his chest. I used to be mortal.
His mild tone left Fi flummoxed. Sure, she’d heard the story a hundred times.
She knew the myth of Veshri, the first immortal daeyari, who’d died and refused to give his soul to the Void, who’d clawed his way back to the material Planes, who’d gifted eternity to his race.
Amidst all that grandstanding, it had never fully clicked that…
Veshri used to be mortal.
He used to be like Fi.
The daeyari who came after me, he said. Are born into immortality. They didn’t earn their eternity. Some show that more than others.
Frustration slid through Fi’s chest, not entirely her own. She shivered to get rid of it. Sorry. I know the stories, but I never…
Please. I’ve no say in half the stories daeyari tell about me. He gestured to her stomach. But this, I can help with.
Veshri’s words bore none of the edge that Avroz’s did, those snide remarks scraping over fangs. He sounded tired. What an odd realization, that one of the oldest creatures in the Planeverse might understand what Fi was going through.
A relief, too, finally speaking to someone who knew what to do about this.
What happens when someone combines ether and mortal flesh? she asked.
As I said, unusual. Which is why I wished to speak with you alone. You may decide who you trust to tell. But be wary: the daeyari have hoarded their immortality for millennia.
Misgiving knotted Fi’s belly. Why does that matter?
Consider, human: Why does your body age when mine does not? You cut yourself, and you heal. You break a bone, it mends. In time, though, this ability lessens. Your material starts to break down. But Void ether doesn’t break down. And now, part of you…
The pressure on Fi’s chest turned crushing.
She wished she could gasp. Could scoff. Could do anything but listen to the thud of her heart in her ears.
When she touched her stomach, the cold of Void-ether flesh ached up her spine.
Part of me… is immortal? she thought.
Veshri studied her with alarmingly calm eyes, for this revelation. Can you imagine? What would happen if you kept replacing pieces? Parts that are injured. Parts that age.
In contrast to his casual intrigue, Fi fought herself back from the precipice of hyperventilation—perilous, in a place without air.
I’d become immortal? she repeated, emphasizing how ludicrous that sounded.
Hypothetical, of course. The mechanics seem sound.
But I’d become immortal? Like you did?
Not the same as I did. Veshri’s calm burrowed into Fi, as if he were urging it through this strange connection they shared.
There’s no one way to build a bridge. No single path to immortality.
I built my body of Void ether. The first aedari built her body from the dust of the Planes.
This—he swept a hand to her middle—is merely a different path.
Fi focused on, metaphorically, steady breaths. She wanted to scream into the Void, just to see if it worked this time. She wanted to laugh in Avroz’s face, that his revered Veshri had pulled her aside to share insider tips on immortality.
She wanted to run straight to Antal’s arms and tell him maybe they could have a happy ending after all.
This was a lot to take in—really a ludicrous amount to take in, on a day that had started with Fi moping in a garden. Veshri, Void ether, immortality, all dangled over her head, hung by a flimsy thread, threatening to crush her if she looked at them straight on.
She needed time to absorb all this.
More than the limited time she had here, before the first Voidwalker vanished again.
With truly an expert degree of compartmentalization, Fi took the frenzied buzzing sound in the back of her head, took the chill of Void-ether flesh, bundled them all in a tidy package she could clench in her fists.
The old stories seemed so simple when they were just stories, stubborn daeyari dragging themselves back from the Void.
She’d heard pieces of the aedari myth, too, bodies formed from Plane dust.
Fi needed answers, more than she’d ever be able to ask before she had to leave this place, before she had to breathe again. The ache in her lungs was growing tighter.
You think a mortal can do this? she said. You, a Void-damned… demigod, whatever you call yourself, have helped me twice now. You’ve never spoken down to me. So why do so many daeyari treat me like I’m nothing? If you care, why don’t you make them act better?
Fi felt Veshri’s sigh in her bones.
I guided the daeyari to immortality, he said. But I don’t control them. I’m no divine, nor have I ever desired to be.
So you roam around the Void? You leave the daeyari to rule over Planes?
To treat humans however they like, even when you used to be mortal?
Fi pointed to her raw ear, gold seared to the shell.
And what about the aedari? You know all about them, I assume.
Yet you show up after we’ve already hunted down one of the immortals threatening your home Plane?
Frustration leaked through the bond, verging on… Fi didn’t know what this new emotion was. It felt like ants in her gut.
What have they told you of the aedari? Veshri said.
This had been Fi’s least favorite part of school, called on by a teacher who knew the material better than her. They’re sworn enemies of the daeyari. Looking for the Twilit Plane.
Veshri’s tail flicked. I do what I can. Many aedari scouts, I manage to turn away from this part of the Shattered Planes.
But however loftily the daeyari think of me, I can’t always be watching.
I can’t be everywhere at once. By the time I’d heard of unrest, you’d already slain one aedari.
A huff. You did what you had to, I imagine.