James always found himself in awe of Polaris. He'd come here once before, he believed, for no other reason than to see what it was like. He hadn't stayed long, but the image of the Spire had been imprinted in his mind until now.

"... Is this where we get our magic from?" James asked, "It feels like my fur's on end."

He looked back to double-check. His fur was indeed standing on end.

@Khloros

Khloros plodded steadily along, each lithe step of warmblood legs unhurried but graceful. His head was slightly tilted, one eye turned to watch that towering eyrie where magic roosted.

And he approached it: unafraid, though mulling over memories of being torn apart, of Astraea's snarling words, of the sensation of burning, boiling magic dissembling him atom by atom.

He wondered why the stag had not killed him when he had come to the meeting. Perhaps he no longer felt the need to; perhaps, he thought wryly, it might have made him look bad. Regardless of the reason, Khloros' head now tilted back, as he came to stand just before the Spire.

"Possibly. I don't know, for sure." Khloros said this softly, in delayed answer. The crackle of magic danced along his every hair, the light bright in his eyes; but when he looked down, he saw the cracks, the oil. He had worried over that, the last time he'd come here, and found it like this. He didn't know what had done it, or why, and that bothered him. But lying in among the jutting stone were shards of his own chrysalis, what small pieces of sickly butter jade remained, streaked through with rainbow aquamarine.

"You can see where I hatched again, there. Where I slept--where I was remade. I had magic, then. Strong magic. I was hoping to destroy this thing. It holds us captive," he began to explain, his voice soft, but confident. "We die here, but our spirits do not escape. They are drawn back, purged of memory, pushed into stone, forced there, captive, crystalline. The rock, the magic; it keeps us in cycles, over and over again. I would see that stopped," he added, and there was the click of hooves as Khloros' body shifted, turning to face James.

These were, of course, only Khloros' beliefs--but he seemed to hold to them strongly enough, though his demeanor remained mild. "That stag, Astraea, who calls himself Master--the one at the meeting; he told me that we are trash, unwanted byproducts, belonging to him and others like him. Do not believe his kinder words; he fears. I don't know what he fears, but his attitude toward me alone is not the... the same, as how he acts toward all of us. I think all of us, together, could defeat him. But alone, he drove me into the Spire with his magic."

A pause, as Khloros looked back to the Spire, remembering. His recounting was undramatic, matter-of-fact, as he went on. "He told me that if I imagined myself free, I could try to earn my freedom. And then I died. It was... painful. I think the Spire's magic tore me apart; but then I found myself in a white place. There was only white," the horse went on, "and a white being, with gentle face, who told me to tell others what I thought, to think as I do. I think it meant the... stones, the cycles; the magic, being trapped. When I emerged the Spire did not--kill me, at least. But my magic was gone, and my shape was different."

Khloros again paused--thoughtful, silent for a beat--and then shook his head, a little. "I carried Death, before. I brought illness in every step. I intended to bring an end to the cycles of entrapment. I was thin--bones and skin--and my eyes glowed green. Now, I have none of that; I do not know why." He looked to James, his very mundane eyes dark, his coat shining, his weight healthy. There was nothing in sickness or skeletal ominousness about him now. "Does this answer your questions?" he asked.

And while he awaited a response, he looked back to the Spire. I was told that I could pray. Are you in there--? The one who held me, when I died? Can you tell me... what to do? Am I doing right? he asked it, in his mind--and there was a faint pleading to this last.

horse stock by venomxbaby on deviantart

@James

James listened silently as Khloros told him about his beliefs, and his mind started to pick out every tiny flaw, every loose thread to pull at. And yet... he saw that the fabric of Khloros' tale wasn't falling apart. It was holding, despite the reasonings he didn't quite see as whole.

But James too, had a few things to say. He stepped forward to stand as close to Khloros as he dared, not scared of the Spire... but he had something to go home to, now. He wasn't alone when he made his decisions anymore, and being ripped apart didn't sound fun either way.

"... I've erm... seen Lessers reproduce. I've seen fawns in clearings, freshly born, not hatched. We can't do that. And isn't making a child halving your soul to make a new one? If two Gembound can create life by themselves, then who's soul is trapped in the new gem they made? How else will be continue life after we've died? Being alive for a long time seems... sad. And lonely," he admitted, "I know there are old Gembound in the caves, and that we don't seem to age, but we can be broken and killed, our gems shattered and our lives taken. I find that a smidge of your reasoning doesn't think abot every possibility. Like the shattering of a Gem, for example, or the makings of a new life, one without a gem entirely."

James faced his chrysalis and then Khloros, before humming and pricking his ears forward, "I've never heard of anyone's form changing like that. I've heard of people growing wings after an accident, when they fell from up high and their body mutated so that it wouldn't happen again... but you have no magic?"

Now that puzzled him.

"I will be honest, it seems like the more you explain, the more questions I have," he said, shaking his head, "I believe you about being reborn. And the Spire speaking to you. I wish it could speak now... I have so many questions."

James bit his lip and shifted, thinking, "... I don't think anyone should hold as much power as Astraea has. Power corrupts, and it's worse when a corrupt person gets a hold of it. But... then why would Astraea be scared? If they're so powerful, what would frighten them?"

He was just musing, but the thought alarmed him. And didn't Astraea mention something about making Vargas a Master? That definitely wouldn't end well. Or had it already happened? Maybe he ought to find a Sentinel and ask. It was stupid, but it was worth a shot (maybe).

@Khloros

Khloros listened, a faint disappointment ticking through him as he realized that James had only asked him of these things in order to gauge their likelihood. He kept listening, though; and as James hit the bit about "halving" souls, he shook his head.

"If that is what some of your logic is based on, then it's faulty. Who told you that we split our souls-? It is through magic; but the souls, I think, are trapped in stone, all around us." Khloros turned, gesturing with his head at the crystals studding Polaris. "Or loose, perhaps: floating, drifting. Astraea insists that we have no souls. Would you choose to believe him, in this case-?" Khloros asked, a little pointedly--not to deride James but to point out that Astraea was a fucking monster, really.

"As for what frightens the stag-? The Masters have Masters, James. Did you understand the purpose of that meeting-?" He glanced at the younger horse; perhaps he'd been too young...

"This 'Lord Dhracia' that was mentioned. They said that she melted one of the Masters. Killed another, I think. Why? I do not know, but if you listened: they say we are to create things for them. We are to remain trapped here, and provide them children--weapons, fodder. Astraea fears her--this Dhracia--and whatever this represents, I think," he added, with a nod toward the Spire.

A pause, musing.

"The black beneath it--that's new. I'm... relieved, it wasn't there when it took me." What it would have done, Khloros could not say. Ahh--but there was something he was missing, wasn't there? Something he'd forgotten to mention...

"I saw a creature of darkness, too. Dark, all green eyes and fury. When first I touched the Spire--before Astraea came. Before he told me that we are all random spawn of the weak, the mistakes, whom the Masters purged." He closed his eyes, remembering... "I saw, in this Spire--in this stone--dark smoke, violet-black. There were... green eyes, toxic green, vast, staring down; it was the size of the sky, James--bigger. The ground was breaking open, the thunder of its breath-... This cave opened, and I fell into it."

Khloros paused, his brow furrowing a tad, and he looked down at the black cracks beneath. Sudden unease-... the memory, and the corruption below--these combined to grant him a very, very bad feeling.

"The creature with the gentle face came later, after I had died; but what I saw in the Spire--the thing Astraea fought to protect--was chaos. A monster. I wonder if that is what he fears; or serves, but it means ill for us."

But what could they do..?

horse stock by venomxbaby on deviantart

@James

"... I make theories," he mumbled, ears flicking down.

Most of his thinking was of his own creation, judged by putting together two and two and trying to form and opinion out of it (though it was unsure if two and two actually went together). Though trying to understand without disappointing someone was difficult. He felt a tinge in his chest as he saw the disappointment on Khloros' face.

Though his brows furrowed as Khloros asked him if he didn't understand. If anyone understood the cultish nonsense that came out of Astraea's face over the dialogue of the dragons and beasts all around, and the sudden outrage about child soldiers that flew up, they deserved a medal. Though maybe he was sore over the fact that he'd had to leave early like some little toddler who needed a nap.

James looked to the Spire and pondered over what Khloros said about Dhracia, the white and black visions, and the goo.

"... Hey Khloros?" he asked suddenly, You saw them both, the uh... I don't know what to call them- spirits. But... you had to fall to meet the white one. Do you think that there might be something under the Spire, then? That's what it was telling you?"

James circled the perimeter of the Spire, staying outside the prickling magic as he inspected it gently. He had... an idea. A stupid idea.

"... It talked to you without a physical form.
But clearly it can communicate, but... maybe mentally?" he mumbled, "... I wonder if I could try to speak to it. I can't get close- No offense but I don't really want to get ripped apart today. But I can send a um... a probe? Of thought, to see if anything's there. Maybe it can answer our questions."

@Khloros

Khloros thought about the first theory, turning to look up at the Spire.

"I don't know. It's possible that, if I walked into it again, I might again find it; but there is no guarantee, and there was so little time to speak." he mulled this over, briefly, and then looked down at the black cracks spreading like a spider's ominous grip. Brief, faintly-vitriolic memories of Thothaga surfaced in him, and he pushed those aside, trying to maintain indifference. "As for whether you can contact it--you may try. But it is dangerous, James. It was magic I pushed into the Spire that-"

Suddenly Khloros spun, looking around, as if on high alert. "-If he returns--Astraea--he may think I have brought you here to harm it. He may kill you," Khloros said, with abrupt urgency. He hadn't thought about it, but perhaps it had been his magic that had alerted the stag to his presence, here. Still, he saw nothing, yet, and looked back to James. "And if he does, I have no means to protect you. But--you may try, if you do not mind the monster staring back at you, should you fail--or should you succeed, rather, but contact the wrong being."

Khloros looked sombrely at James. He could not know that others had reached out and been harmed; he hadn't spoken to them, personally. He wondered, for a moment, if someone had called up this horse as his replacement: another black steed to carry death, but without the giveaway form. Had James heard those voices, too-? Khloros watched him, and wondered.

horse stock by venomxbaby on deviantart

@James

"Then you run and I'll use my best baby eyes... If all else fails, I'll fill his thoughts with noise and hopefully disorient him long enough to get away," he said, before turning to the Spire.

James puffed out his chest and squared his feet, tail flicking from side to side. He shook his head out and prepared himself, being so so careful not to push or pull too hard. He didn't want to mess this up.

"... If something happens to me, there's a lion who lives in the ruins of Orion. His name is Aristotle and I want you to tell him that I'm here," he said, so certain that he was going to live that he didn't bother giving Khloros instructions about what to do should that happen, "And poke me if you see anything. Please."

He closed his eyes, his heart pounding. He centered himself and readied his magic, nervous and excited at the same time. Here goes everything...

A tendril of thought reached out shly, gently skimming the very edge of the aura of magic before very slowly wiggling its way in.

It looked, briefly, as though James were in a grove: thick with trees, a green canopy overhead and something--something water-like, pale blue--overhead. It was the briefest glimpse before darkness fell: a stormcloud, but one roiling with purple smoke.

The trees around him cracked and crashed. The ground reverberated with some ominous bass rumble, and toxic green lightning cracked through the clouds above: clouds that crashed down, smothering the land around him, crushing and withering the trees, the grass, the flowers-...

The smoke poured in around him, and he fell... and woke.

@James

James gasped and reared, squealing in shock at the sudden vision, bolting away a few steps before turning to stare at the Spire, eyes wide, ears pinned. What... was that?

"I-I saw something!" he said to Khloros, "A grove, like Eridanus but... the ceiling was blue, and then a purple stormcloud rolled in and everything blew apart..."

What did it mean? What was the Spire trying to say? Where was this place that he'd been shown?

"... I have a horrible feeling," he mumbled, "That Astraea's reason to be afraid isn't something... bad. Or good. Both, maybe."

But he hadn't seen the eyes that Khloros described. Why?

"... Thank you," he told the Spire, hoping that it heard, or whoever's consciousness lingered did, "... I've never seen anything like the place I saw. The clouds that overwhelmed me were so strange. The lightning was green and it killed everything it touched."

@Khloros

He waited, patient, turning once to keep watch, but nothing came. When James spoke, he tried to imagine what he'd seen: a grove? A blue ceiling? The purple stormcloud, at least, sounded familiar, and Khloros hmm'd in thought before speaking.

"The storm that I saw--that cracked the ground--had eyes. I wish I could see, again; but my magic is gone," he lamented softly, looking toward the Spire once more.

He was quiet, for a beat, thinking. "What do you mean, about isn't bad, or good?" he asked, at last.

horse stock by venomxbaby on deviantart

@James