The astral prism
Kisame figured, now that they’re so close to their end goal, there wouldn’t be much further distraction.
Unfortunately, life has a way of pretty quickly fucking up his expectations.
“An istik? But what are you-“
“Quin’rel, don’t worry so much, they are here for a reason-“
The young githyanki looks at Kisame with a puzzled expression.
“...Aren’t you?”
“They are with me,” Lae’zel snaps at him, arms folded and eyes narrowed.
The boy nods, making a small told-you-so gesture with his hand.
“See? Nothing to worry about,” he reassures the girl.
“Where is the ghustil?” Lae’zel demands.
“Down that hallway, through both sets of doors. She’s a bit busy, but she may be able to see you if it’s urgent.”
Lae’zel nods, leaving without another word to either of them. Kisame follows behind, wondering if he should allow himself to feel relieved that this ordeal might finally be at an end.
“I sure fuckin’ hope this works out,” Hidan gripes. “Shit’s been fucked for so long I don’t really believe playin’ nice is gonna fix it.”
“You will do well not to speak,” Lae’zel informs him, with an icy glare. “Be silent and let me deal with this.”
Hidan puts his hands up in a pacifying gesture.
“Go nuts, lady.”
“Gods, I hope this is over soon,” Karlach murmurs. “I’ve got the worst bleedin’ headache...”
Kisame can empathize- his own head has been at a dull throbbing for the entire day, and if he thinks too hard (which he desperately tries not to) he thinks he can even feel the tadpole squirming about.
When they’re close to the place the young gith had indicated, they end up getting sidetracked just as Kisame had feared.
(He should really learn to trust those gut feelings of his- they tend to be right more often than not.)
He hears shouting, and sees antsy soldiers rushing toward a certain location.
Lae’zel’s ears perk up, eyes narrowing as she listens in.
“This way.”
“What about the ghustil-“
“-The ghustil can wait. We ought to find out what is going on,” Lae’zel insists, eyes narrowed, mouth pressed in a grim line of concern.
“I suppose we should figure out what the ruckus is about in case it’s anything to do with us.”
They follow the noise to a rectory that’s been repurposed into an office, a few hulking wolves munching away happily on corpses laying limply on the floor.
Lae’zel holds her arm out to tell teh others to hang back; Hidan looks offended and tries to say something, but Kisame shushes him.
The Githyanki are having what sounds like a heated discussion, with the woman gesticulating wildly and growing more and more frantic by the moment.
Then, the one who appears to be in charge snaps something at her that causes her to fall silent, hanging her head in shame.
After sufficiently browbeating her, he turns on his heel and leaves through a door cloaked in a whitish energy, disappearing from sight with a handful of the others.
Lae’zel steps into the room out of curiosity, approaching the Kith’rak who stands at the table massaging her temples with an exhausted expression.
The woman looks up in puzzlement, and while she barks out a few words at Lae’zel, Kisame hears the word istik uttered yet again.
Lae’zel says something that seems to reassure the woman, who nods in reluctant acknowledgement before saying something else that sounds like a question.
After a second, Therryzyn responds in a way he can finally understand.
“The weapon,” she says, in a curt, businesslike tone. “You have it?”
Kisame nods.
“Pretty sure we’ve got exactly what you’re looking for.”
What are you doing? The voice in the back of his mind snaps.
Therryzn holds her hand out in a wordless demand.
Lae’zel nods, urging him to cooperate.
Kisame pulls the strange artifact out of his pack and holds it out; the kith’rak snatches it away from him with a glint of relieved glee in her eye.
“Finally,” she breathes. “Now the inquisition can come to an end, and-“
The artifact flies out of her hand as suddenly as she’d taken it, whacking Kisame in the chest in its apparent haste to return to him.
“What-“
Kisame shrugs at her in a wordless gesture that he is just as confused as she.
“You manipulate it when I cannot?! Impossible, I-“
The kith’rak sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose in aggravation.
“...It seems it has chosen you. Fortunately for you, it is not for me to ask why.”
She takes a seat at her desk and buries her head in her hands with a weary sigh.
“Seek the inquisitor below. And do not keep him waiting- if you value your life, anyway.”
Kisame doesn’t see the need to argue with that- Lae’zel is already on her way down, anyway, and he doesn’t feel like getting lost.
The area they descend into is somehow even more foreboding than the rest of the creche, dimly lit and thick with tension.
“What do you think he wants with us?”
“I would imagine he wants the damn artifact,” Karlach remarks. “They seem to need it real bad- wonder what for...”
“It is a relic of my people,” Lae’zel says, matter-of-factly. “It was clearly stolen from us, so no doubt my queen would want it returned.”
“Sounds fair enough, I guess- but what about the fucker inside it that’s apparently been keepin’ our worms from hijackin’ our goddamn headmeat?” Hidan asks, doing the math in his mind and realizing that things might be about to get ugly quicker than they would like.
“Once we have seen the Inquisitor, we will find the zaith’isk. With the tadpoles gone, we will no longer need any protection from any artifact.”
“Got it. Guess we just gotta hope shit doesn’t go sideways between now n’ then, eh?”
Their path down leads them into a spacious area with ornate decorations, no doubt made painstakingly by the previous occupants.
“Ah, our most honored guests,” the one standing in the center says with a smile, carrying himself with an air of importance Kisame is very familiar with. “Come closer, we have much to discuss.”
Kisame obeys, stepping down ahead of the others.
“Ch’r’ai W’wargaz,” Lae’zel says, with a small, deferential bow. “Vlaakith’s justice in the flesh.”
"I am who you say."
The man holds his hand toward Kisame expectantly.
“I can hand it over to you,” Kisame says, holding the artifact aloft, “but I don’t think you’ll like what happens.”
“Perhaps you ought to leave the thinking to your betters, istik,” the Inquisitor warns.
Kisame decides that this is neither the time nor place to pick an argument; he hands the artifact to him without any further, ado, curious about where this is going.
“At last,” he sighs, looking elated and relieved in a way Kisame has only seen on parents reunited with children they thought long dead.
He takes the artifact in both hands, cradling it with all the reverence due to something so clearly precious.
That does not last more than a split second, however, before the artifact lights up with a bright golden light, vibrating with a pent up energy. It flies out of his grip and into the air, blinding everybody.
The gith swear loudly in their native language, confusion and anger rising in equal measure.
“What have you done?!” the Inquisitor demands, glaring daggers at Kisame.
Kisame holds his hands up, squinting against the glow.
“I have no idea what the hell is going on,” he reassures him. “I had no idea what it even is before we showed up here, so don’t look at me.”
The glow abruptly dies out, but the ground starts to rumble, indicating that, whatever’s going on, it’s nowhere close to over.
Something low, sort of like a roar, fills the air. A figure materializes before them that sends all the gith reeling.
Hidan and Kisame exchange confused glances; after that, Hidan swaps confused looks with Wyll and Karlach, as well.
Whatever the hell is going on, one thing is sure- the new arrival is not someone to take lightly.
Fortunately, none of them have to ask who the hell just showed up, because it becomes quite clear.
“My queen,” Lae’zel breathes, eyes wide in reverent awe as she drops to her knees, uttering an exclamation of deference.
Kisame squints at her, then cranes his neck to look up at the behemoth of a woman who has just arrived.
“I assume this is Vlaakith, then?” he asks, trying not to fidget with his hands as he struggles to figure out what one should do in the presence of someone who's more or less a god.
Vlaakith does something resembling a smile.
“You have taught your servants well, Lae’zel,” she says, to which Lae’zel’s head snaps upright.
“You know me, my queen?”
“The sa’varsh of Creche Kl’iir speaks the most highly of you.”
Vlaakith turns her attention to Kisame next, looking down on him with a vague amusement, like one observing a clever animal.
“You are permitted to look upon me. You are invited to kneel.”
The woman towering over them has the presence of a god, despite not (probably) being one. Kisame decides to follow Lae’zel’s lead, getting down on one knee and looking up at Vlaakith expectantly.
Wyll and Karlach follow, though their faces indicate they’re doing it more out of politeness than anything.
Hidan, however, remains standing.
Lae’zel glares at him, hissing what are you doing? under her breath.
“No offense,” Hidan says, “But I ain’t exactly the type to get on my knees for anyone I’m not planning on fuckin’. So if it’s all the same to you, I ain’t doin’ shit.”
Lae’zel shuts her eyes tightly, cringing hard enough to snap her bones.
Vlaakith looks less than amused, glaring Hidan down with eyes blacker than the darkest abyss.
She stoops down to be closer to their level, looking from Hidan, to Karlach, to Wyll, then to Kisame.
“You come bearing that which is ours,” she says. “But are you friend? Or are you thief?”
“Neither, I don’t think,” Kisame answers. “We’re just trying to get out of a tight spot, I’m not lookin’ to fight with any of you.”
After debating this answer for a moment, Vlaakith seems to accept it.
“You have returned it, at least,” she says. “It is a start. And since you are here, I may be able to make use of you.”
Kisame raises an eyebrow. Politely waiting for her to elaborate.
“The Astral Prism,” Vlaakith says, her booming voice echoing off the walls. “It is corrupted. There is one within it who is a threat nearly as great as the ghaik Grand Design.”
Corrupted...
Kisame can’t help but think about the voice that’s been guiding them thus far, and his stomach starts twisting itself into knots.
“Go in and rid it of its corruption. Do this-“
Vlaakith gives Lae’zel the sort of smile that’s more teeth than anything.
“-And ascend.”
Lae’zel’s head snaps upward, yelow eyes wide in disbelief.
She blinks a few times in rapid succession, as if she can’t comprehend what’s been said.
"Ascend? My queen, I-"
"-Surely you cannot mean-"
"Silence, W'wargaz."
Don't-
"I will see it done," Lae'zel says, eyes alight with determination.
"Good. You will not leave here until you are done.":
With that final statement, Vlaakith vanishes in a flash of golden light, and the astral prism begins to flower.
Suddenly, they find themselves standing in a swirling sea of stardust and darkness, strangely light and beautifully surreal.
"The Astral Plane," Lae'zel says, breathless.
Kisame hops from the rocky ledge to the larger one beneath them, floating through the air as if he were light as a feather.
Somehow, he knows he should walk through the swirling portal of golden energy standing in front of them. And, somehow, he knows he should go through on his own.
Kisame glances back at the others, offering what he means to be a reassuring smile, but he’s pretty sure is missing the mark. Especially for Lae'zel, who has so much riding on this going well.
“I’ll take care of things. Just give me a second.”
With that, he steps through the veil, to where a figure is standing, as though he’s been waiting for his arrival.
When the figure speaks, it is with the weary tone of one who is disappointed, but not entirely surprised.
“Perhaps I made a mistake in trusting you.”
The mystery dream guardian keeps his back turned to Kisame, but Kisame can hear the frown in his words.
“I told you to stay away from the Githyanki, but you just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”
He shakes his head, letting out a disappointed sigh.
“Vlaakith seems pretty sure you’re bad news,” Kisame says, drawing his blade and keeping eyes fixed on the stranger.
“Of course she did. I know her secret, so she wants me gone. And now you’re here to murder me.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Might be more keen on letting you live if you stop being so cryptic.”
The mystery stranger rolls his eyes, but starts talking all the same.
“The prism is more than just a weapon, or some tool against the Absolute. It’s something more powerful than you or anyone else could ever imagine. It is also more dangerous than anyone can comprehend. Vlaakith knows this- that’s why she wants it so badly. And why she wants me dead.”
He seems sincere enough, even though Kisame is still reluctant to trust him.
Reluctant, sure. But despite that reluctance, something about Vlaakith’s desperation makes him trust her even less.
“I have protected you for this long,” the dream visitor reminds him. “I’ve protected all of you. If the Absolute is to be defeated, we must work together.”
The stranger gets onto his knees, holding his sword up in a gesture of good faith.
A stupid gesture in most circumstances. But, Kisame assumes, a sincere one.
He thinks about Lae’zel standing just outside, waiting to hear back about what her queen had ordered to be done.
She may not understand. But he'll try his best.
"Get up," he sighs, holding his hand out in a gesture of peace. "You won't die today."
The stranger takes his hand, looking relieved.
"Perhaps I was right to trust you, after all."
"I like to think I'm a trustworthy kinda guy."
The strange dream visitor smiles.
"She'll want you dead."
"Let her try to kill me. I don't go down easily."
Another nod.
"Go. Be careful. And get away from here."