Dragon’s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Thacea and Emma’s Room.
Thacea
This was it.
The promised revelation.
The hopes and dreams of empiricalists long dead and forgotten, brought to fruition within the confines of this impossible construct.
An impossible sight, brought about by impossible ans, at the hands of an impossible entity.
What was once a dream snubbed at by the arcanists, and snuffed out by the mages, was now proving to be anything but a long dead concept.
Standing in front of , not unlike artifacts in a museum, were constructs bordering on the absurd — windowless towers of questionable aesthetics, and grand spires unsuitable for anything but grandiose monuntality. These shrines to height, dedicated seemingly only to ego and hubris, served a purpose far greater than any symbol or monunt to house and clan.
For they served a purpose once thought impossible.
A ans of conveyance from the dirt through the tapestry.
Their size — proportional to the imnsity of such a task.
Their design — thematically poignant. Resembling needles ant to pierce straight through the fabric of quilts and tapestries alike.
Their underlying chanisms, however, remained vague despite Emma’s grandiose descriptions.
Harnessing the energy from caged explosions was no longer enough. Instead, we had to take our gloves off, skipping straight past the middleman — propelling ourselves atop of the raw and unmitigated power of combustion itself.
The conclusions drawn from such a statent… were nothing short of ludicrous.
The breaching of the tapestry couldn’t have been that straightforward.
…
Could it?
Indeed, if the caging of explosions within those engine-artifices was of any indication, then there must be so form of enigmatic manaless ans of harnessing the pure power of combustion; one powerful enough to propel these towers of iron and steel through the heavens.
The visualization of which… proved nigh-impossible to manifest. As imagining one of these monoliths attempting flight as they were… was not just ludicrous, but an exercise in insanity.
At which point, did I finally realize the leypull of the situation.
I was actively considering, through no uncertain terms, the flight of literal towers.
Towers the size of those found in Aetheron’s capital, lifted not through so Nexian planar magics fueled by its boundless streams of mana, but by manaless ans.
I awaited my disbelief to settle, and for doubt to slowly precipitate, amidst the brisk yet andering carousel of towers slowly diminishing in size.
But it never did.
Or at least, not in any significant quantity to quash the impossible conclusions my heart and mind had already since reached.
I understood, in no uncertain terms, the sorts of impossibilities Emma was capable of.
Moreover, our discussions on… the void and the expanse beyond the tapestry had instilled within a compelling acceptance of Earthrealm's seemingly impossible reach.
It stood to reason then, given my certainty of Earthrealm’s foregone destination, that the manner in which said destination was reached was a more palatable point of contention by comparison.
But this clearly wasn’t the case for all present, as Ilunor and Thalmin were quick to demonstrate.
“Towers.” Ilunor began indignantly. “I’m assuming you wish to proclaim these towers as sohow key to your claims of piercing through the tapestry?” The Vunerian spoke with as much skeptical bluster as he could muster.
“I, for one, believe it to be a novel endeavor.” Thalmin interjected atop a more confident cadence. “There have been a great many stories of impossibly tall towers in old Havenbrockian tales. Towers that reach for the heavens, and so which dare to reach beyond it. I believe it to be a logical conclusion then, given the sheer height of the towers seen in Earthrealm’s grand cities, that there exist towers tall enough and grand enough to pierce through the tapestry.”
Ilunor’s features remained surprisingly unfazed by that statent, refusing to hint at his acknowledgent or dismissal at the prince’s assertions.
Though it would be Emma who would respond not with a firm or definitive answer, but instead… a sheepish insistence on moving past Thalmin’s points altogether.
“I an… you’re not wrong, Thalmin.” Emma began through what I could only describe as a reluctant admission. One which elicited a set of wide-eyed incredulous looks from all present. “But I’d prefer we start at the beginning, rather than skipping right through to the end.”
This… outright admission through omission stoked the flas of curiosity welling within , as mories of that private sight-seer, of that… impossible construct floating above Acela once more ca into my mind’s eye.
“Then let us begin, Emma.” I spoke eagerly, watching as we arrived at what was quite possibly one of the smallest towers yet.
One that barely reached the height of an outer-ring townhouse in the Isle of Towers.
“This was the first.” Emma began, gesturing towards this four-finned oblong tower. “The first to breach the tapestry, that is.” She continued. “But before I show you that fateful flight, and the successive flights that took place in the years and decades since, I’d first like to show you the basics of how all this works.”
The carousel of monunts shifted leftwards, passing by stranger and smaller artifacts, before arriving at an innocuous item that shifted the entire dynamic of this demonstration.
A humble firespear.
My features imdiately darkened, as I reflexively shifted my gaze back towards the endless row of towers that stretched on into the artificial horizon.
Their shape, their function, all of them couldn’t have possibly just been based on the simple fundantals of an alchemist’s toy—
“No.” Ilunor began, voicing what felt like our collective disbelief as he took a step back. “You can’t possibly have us believe that you’ve iterated and adopted the primitive principles of what is at worst a toy and at best a primitive attempt at shimr-stars.” The Vunerian’s voice shook, not so much out of fear as it was out of sheer disbelief. “You… you can’t possibly be using firespears for what is effectively…” Ilunor trailed off, allowing Emma to interject.
“Yes.” Emma began through a cocksure cadence. “That’s precisely what I’m getting at. And just to make sure we’re all on the sa page, I’m assuming that your definition of ‘firespear’ is that of a tube packed with solid propellant that ignites in order to—”
“It is a toy, Emma Booker!” Ilunor reiterated through a hiss, acknowledging Emma’s query without directly addressing it. “How can you have us believe—”
The carousel moved once more, silencing the Vunerian if only for a mont as we were introduced to what appeared to be a chair… with a disconcertingly large number of firespears strapped beneath it.
“We’ve been toying with the idea for literal millenia before we finally got it right.” Emma interjected. “I won’t have you believe that a simple shimr-star firespear is what got us beyond the tapestry. That’s just absurd. Because in a similar story to aerial craft, we started from what was ostensibly the right idea, but executed in a way that just didn’t quite cut it. Take for example Wan Hu over here, a civil servant back in one of our ancient civilizations. We know little about him, heck, so people dispute he even existed. But it’s his story that tells so much about our desire, our dreams of breaching the tapestry.”
“A dream that involves strapping about fifty firespears to the bottom of a chair, Emma?” Thalmin interjected with a cock of his head.
“Well like I said, we had to start from sowhere. And whether or not this ever happened, the fact it was imagined up at all shows just how long we’ve had this dream, and the trial by fire by which we would eventually reach it.”
The scene quickly demonstrated the… catastrophic results of the firespear chair. As after an uproarious series of cheers from the crowd, was the chair simply reduced to dust.
This was not to ntion the fate of the well-appointed man himself…
This… less than desirable turn of events was then quickly followed up by countless more similar demonstrations. With firespears of varying forms reaching for the heavens… only to reach their expectant demise, or barely even lifting off the dirt at that.
Each and every one starting off with the sa expectant fiery hiss, before ultimately reaching its ends either in an anti-climactic bang, or a wispy fizzle.
This eventually culminated in what appeared to be a spindly, innocuous, utilitarian tal rack holding within it yet another firespear.
Yet there was sothing undeniably different about this one.
As unlike the rest of the abject failures thus far, Emma’s sight-seer seed to place an inordinate amount of focus on it despite it remaining static, burning through its fuel with nothing to show for it.
It was a half-minute exercise in futility.
Or at least, that’s what it at first appeared to be.
“1925, twenty-two years after our first aerial craft took to the skies. What seems innocuous and rather underwhelming is actually a critical point in rocketry. Prior to this junction, our firespears had been simple, primitive things. A tube of solid-fuel propellant, burning uncontrollably and without any guidance capability. This all changed at the hands of Robert H. Goddard, who proved on this day that liquid-fueled firespears were possible.”
The scene quickly shifted, progressing rightwards through the carousel as similarly ramshackled firespears were shown launching… and failing, over and over again. This was interspersed with successful launches, though few ever reached the heights that that Emma’s manaless aethra vessels had forrly reached.
However this trend too quickly took a turn, as each increase in these firespear’s sizes brought with it an improvent in the successes of every launch, and an increase in their altitude.
“So after centuries or millennia of trial and error, suddenly using liquid fuel sohow fixes all of your problems?” Ilunor spoke up, crossing his arms in a look of blatant skepticism.
“Not exactly. It’s one of the components to it. I’m skipping over a lot of minor details here, Ilunor. But suffice it to say, this century was an era of imnse technological progress. Lessons learned in other fields — from aviation to flight chanics to communications and beyond — all translated into improvents in rocketry. In short, with every passing year, our increased understanding of the natural forces allowed us to iterate and improve. The advent of liquid fuel was simply a major milestone that unlocked an entirely new era in rocketry. It provided us a far more reliable ans of controlling what was previously uncontrollable, giving us the reins to better ta and command the very heart of this beast — combustion itself.”
Ilunor had been quiet throughout a major portion of that explanation, though it was the latter part that truly gave him pause for thought.
Sothing had clearly shaken him to his core.
A certain understanding that I too had garnered.
“Magic solved this issue.” I began plainly, garnering the attention of all present. “The reason why firespears are relegated to a trivial amusent, is simply because there are far more practical ans by which its ends can be accomplished. The lack of control of a firespear, the lack of consistency and reliability, the volatility of it — all of it and more can be addressed through magical equivalents.”
“A mage could simply adjust his manipulation of leypull itself, for one.” Thalmin acknowledged warily.
“Control and mastery over flight, is thus almost second nature to the mages that seek it.” I quickly added, nodding in Thalmin’s direction.
“And would this… control involve the change and mixture of alchemical solutions and reagents? Of when one is added and one is removed, or how much is aerated and what quantities to add when?” Ilunor suddenly inquired, his eyes narrowing and his voice wavering.
“Precisely, Ilunor.” Emma nodded sincerely, her tone of voice indicating that she was even impressed with Ilunor’s assertions. “That’s… more or less it. I an, there’s a lot more that goes into it but—”
“Just get on with it, earthrealr.” The Vunerian hissed, his brows quivering if only for a mont following that answer.
Emma nodded, pressing onwards as the titular tower-like design of these firespears started coming into its own.
This eventually culminated in that first four-story tall firespear we’d started off on, standing atop of a platform in the midst of a clearing within a wooded forest.
Continuous streams of thick white smoke billowed from its umbilicals, whilst almost half of its bottom ‘fins’ were likewise obscured from sight as a result of what were probably noxious fus.
Then, ca a rumbling. Slow at first, but rising higher and higher in pitch and ferocity.
The lingering smoke began to stir violently, while the umbilicals spewed even greater volus of fus, all culminating in a shriek-like roar that ushered in not just a suspiciously missing tower as was the case with ‘Wan Hu’, but instead… the undeniable flight of a literal townhouse.
This building-sized construct… rising purely through the combustion of a firespear.
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“1944. Forty-one years after the first Wright Brothers flight. The launch of a V-2 test rocket dubbed the MW18014. They didn’t know it at the ti, since… well… we hadn’t yet established the boundary between the skies and space — the Karman line. But this launch marked the first man-made object to reach outer space. The first object to breach the tapestry.”
“And do you have proof of this? Images, sight-seers, shards—”
“There was instrunt data. But if it’s images you want, then let’s keep moving forward.” Emma announced plainly.
The scene quickly shifted once more to a desert in the middle of nowhere.
A firespear of similar dinsions, but additional improvents sat on its platform.
As if in anticipation for what was to co, the firespear once more careened upwards atop a shriek-like roar, angry flas exiting through its conical end.
For a mont, I could almost liken it to the fiery insides of a dragon’s throat.
It was only after the roar of its fire was over did Emma materialize a series of static images, each of which were of… questionable quality — black and white splotches with barely any visual cues or landmarks by which to identify them.
“1946. Forty-three years after our first flight. The white sands missile range, New xico. The launch of yet another man-made object into space, but this ti… it had mory-shards, albeit primitive ones by today’s standards.”
All three of us took steps towards these floating images, of what appeared to be—
Thalmin
A dark sky, and… sothing resembling a grainy soupy-ss of a terrain as seen from above.
This… wasn’t what I at all expected.
Moreover, this wasn’t what I wanted.
Throughout it all, the growth of these firespears beckoned a disconcerting question that grew to rival Emma’s claims of breaching the tapestry.
This was because if her claims were to be believed, if these firespears of imnse size were truly controllable, then they could serve not only as toys nor tools of exploration.
But tools of war.
Ilunor
The image made no sense.
Nor did I try to make sense of it.
It was rely a dark sky and so indistinguishable blur.
There was nothing to be garnered from this.
The tapestry had yet to have been torn.
This was an exercise in futility.
This… had to be.
What else could this be but—
Thacea
—the curvature of a realm.
This was… the curvature of a realm.
Tales from high-soaring flocks have consistently reported seeing a curve to our world, even after the Nexian Reformations.
It was just an undeniable part of reality.
And yet this… was fundantally different.
The curvature was far, far too pronounced.
The result of flying higher than even the high-soarers, of ascending far beyond the flight-limit, which ant that this image, this shard, could’ve only been captured at heights beyond the tapestry.
“I know you probably still don’t believe .” Emma continued. “So let’s skip a few years so we can get a better view~”
The scene once more shifted, still in the desert, but with a wildly different firespear. For this one was… much more refined. It was spindly, tall, yet smaller than what clearly was ahead.
Its launch soon followed, violently careening off of its tal brackets with a loud and feather-puffing SHRRRRK!
All three of us watched as it pierced through the skies faster and more aggressively than the previous firespear, disappearing even quicker from view.
“1954. Fifty-one years after our first flight. The Aerobee. Nothing too exciting about it, except that on a few of its missions, it managed to snap enough images for us to form a photomosaic of this~” Emma paused, revealing an image that prompted my eyes to grow wide.
Gone was the grainy black and white image.
In its place was a color-image of—
“Is that… part of a globe?” Thalmin uttered under a shaky breath. “How… where was that taken?”
“That has to be manufactured.” Ilunor suddenly managed out. “Globes of adjacent realms are made through careful cartography and assembled through countless hours of—”
“This wasn’t a work of cartography drawn from the surface or even from the sky Ilunor.” Emma interjected. “This… was taken high above the clouds, high above a realm, so high that you can actually see massive chunks of a realm from above.”
“This image was captured… from beyond the tapestry.” I managed out under a hushed breath.
“Impossible, princess.” Ilunor shot back violently, his eyes growing wide with a hastening incredulity. “I expected better from you. You, a master of deciphering truth from lies! This… this is nothing but a… cleverly, well-crafted, and admittedly impressive work of cartographic expertise that posits a highly-detailed globe as seen from an otherwise impossible vantage point—”
“Ilunor.” Emma interjected, her tone retreating from that teasing, almost boastful cadence, to sothing more grounded and severe. “I’d be remiss if I didn’t address this before we continued.” The earthrealr breathed in deeply, as if readying herself for a heated back and forth. “Exactly what is the issue—”
Ilunor
“The tapestry cannot be breached.” I interjected plainly. “Not by aethraships nor by firespears, nor by mages of strength and skill beneath that of true planar laureates.” I continued without hesitation… yet garnered nothing but the infuriatingly expressionless glare of the earthrealr’s mask in return.
I awaited a long-winded retort, an answer befitting of her seemingly limitless coffer of words.
I anticipated a noble’s vault's worth of justifications.
Yet I received a paltry commoner’s ration of syllables.
“Why?”
This… lit the fla welling within my throat, streams of smoke emanating from my nostrils montarily disrupting this manaless illusion, breaking up the phantom-like streams of light that made up this impossible world.
Reminding , if only for a mont, that this illusion… was in and of itself, an extension of the impossibilities it purveyed.
“Why?” I mimicked using an exaggerated caricature of the earthrealr’s inflections. “Why?!” I guffawed, shaking my head in the process. “Is it not apparent, earthrealr?! It is because the tapestry is for all intents and purposes imperable!” I took a deep breath, the billowing smoke casting an eerie shadow over the manaless projection.
“Then let ask you this, Ilunor. Is it imperable because of so inherent physical property… or is it imperable as a result of so innate magical property.” The earthrealr responded cautiously.
This question — blunt and seemingly straightforward at first — quickly put into question my entire fra of reference.
I paused, taking a mont to observe the ‘sights’ and sounds around , at the dead and desolate wastes dotted with manaless constructs operating within a manaless world.
And then it dawned on .
Earthrealm… had naught the mana to breathe contemporary life, nor did it have the mana through which the tapestry could maintain its natural connection to the transportium.
I rapidly shifted my gaze now, my eyes landing on that of the lupinor and avinor, my mind parsing through every available iota of knowledge I had on the lesser natural phenonon of the adjacent realms.
“What are you looking at for, Iluno—”
“Shush!” I silenced the lupinor, instead shifting my focus towards Thacea. “Your realm has nothing I am interested in.” I quickly justified, the lupinor’s features contorting into one of both confusion and incredulity.
“What’s that supposed to—”
“Princess.” I began, silencing the lupinor in the process. “Your kind has produced a great many powerful mages, not to ntion natural flyers.”
“You flatter , Iluno—”
“I must admit that my… ahem… disinterest in the fundantals of adjacent realm physiography leaves with a simple yet foregone question — have you or have you not been able to leave the confines of your tapestry?”
“Not to my knowledge, Ilunor.” The princess responded curtly.
“As expected.” I began with a cursory nod. “I understand that adjacent realms, especially younger realms, have a… lesser-transportium network. I take it that attempts to reach the tapestry do not result in a natural induction into said network?”
“That is correct.”
“Then what barriers have you observed?” I continued with growing urgency. “I presu your kind have been inclined to reach said tapestry, as is the inclination of many a young and foolish race. What prevented you from ascending higher, if not for the transportium induction phenonon?”
“Power.” The princess responded succinctly… in synchrony with Emma. This impromptu duet prompted the pair to turn towards each other, if only for a mont.
With a nod of acquiescence from the earthrealr, the princess continued.
“We have observed, as many other realms have, that there exists a… functional impasse through which no amount of power — magical or otherwise — can successfully breach.”
“And those planar mages with the talent to do so… those who remain on Aetheronrealm anyways… would reach an impasse similar to many others — the lack of ambient mana with which to breach the tapestry.” I quickly added, my mind running through these disparate points one after another.
“All of this is to say that without relying on mana, earthrealrs have found a violently novel solution to pierce the tapestry.” Thacea concluded through a poignant smile. “As without a transportium to induct them, nor mana to limit them, it would seem as if the raw power of manaless combustion itself was enough to get them through the tapestry.”
The princess’ latter statent gave pause for thought, as I turned towards the earthrealr with an expectant gaze.
There was still, after all, a major point of contention which these images have failed to address. A glaring error in which my victory may still be assured.
One that the lupinor prince himself seed to acknowledge through wary eyes.
“You make… convincing argunts, earthrealr.” I began tentatively. “But your attempts to undermine my belief in known reality fall short in one very blatant detail.”
“And what might that be, Ilunor?”
“If you truly have breached the tapestry… then where is the endless glowing expanse that is the primavale?” I smiled brightly, pointing to the crude image, or more specifically… the darkness surrounding the globe. “If you truly have gone above that which envelopes your globe, then where is the ceaseless bright that lies beyond? If you truly have entered the realm that only planar mages have, then where is it?!”
The earthrealr paused, unable to respond, as if ready to admit to this undeniable breach in fundantal logic.
“Ilunor. I’m going to be blunt here for a mont. I understand that there may be fundantally different natural forces at play here between our realms. The primavale beyond the tapestry may in fact exist in the Nexus. I for one am willing to entertain such a notion. However, where I co from? The skies aren’t the limit. Indeed, there really isn’t even a tapestry to breach. What lies beyond the flight limit of conventional planes is just… nothing. Or rather, a big empty expanse of vacuum. A void in which our globe floats. An emptiness where there exists no land, water, or even air. A true vacuum that stretches on for literally millions upon billions of miles in every direction. That is what lies beyond our ‘tapestry’, or rather, our skies. And that is what we found when we finally breached it.”
My eyes remained transfixed on the inky darkness of that image as Emma spoke.
However, no sooner did she finish did we find ourselves thrust into an entirely new scene.
One which preempted my responses through the unveiling of the next firespear — a squat, disproportionate, inelegant-looking dart-of-a-craft. Painted in refuse-green and adorned with a symbol consisting of a hamr and sickle; the symbols of peasants.
The color combination repulsed .
The inelegant design proved to be even more of a revolting sight.
The four protruding extensions of the central spire were far too large, far too bulky, especially when considering the squat, almost laughably short conical structure it was beholden to.
This was not even ntioning the utilitarian plinth it sat atop of.
The tower sat there, its umbilicals bellowing heavy smoke which gathered at its base, condensing into plus of thick white-grey fog that obscured much of the platform.
Then ca a series of obnoxious bell tolls, beeping second by second until finally—
“1957. The launch of the R-7 Sputnik PS, carrying atop it a payload of the sa na. One which would co to redefine our relationship with the void which hangs above.” Emma began, her voice barely making it through the terrifyingly loud explosions that thrumd throughout the sight-seer.
I watched in discontented awe as the four massive tal clamps chaining this behemoth to the plinth finally let go, and as this watchtower-tall giant of iron and steel took to the skies; bathing everything behind it in the raw fury of this manaless facsimile of dragon fla.
Part of wasn’t at all impressed.
But that part of was very much still bound to crownlands expectations.
It hadn’t yet registered that this really was a purely manaless endeavor.
It still, in so vain attempt at holding my disbelief together, considered this to be magical.
But I suppressed that for now.
The logic behind this oversized firespear… was understandable.
As such, I continued watching, my eyes narrowing as I saw what appeared to be a point of critical failure for the would-be tapestry-breacher. In a spectacular display of comical self-destruction those visually offensive side-towers detached in one fell swoop, spinning and tumbling wildly in mid-air, creating an almost cross-shaped pattern as it fell back down to earth.
“Heh. So this truly does take after the shimrstars it so wishes to mimic.” I managed out under a derisive breath.
“That was intentional, Ilunor.” The earthrealr argued.
To which my eyes imdiately narrowed as a chuckle soon followed. “That? Intentional?!” I chastised.
“Yes.”
“What purpose does losing major elents of your craft possibly have—”
“Staging. To put it simply, Ilunor, the higher up you want to go, the more fuel you need to use to get up there. More fuel ans more systems and storage diums to carry it in, aning more weight needed to take into consideration—”
“Which ans more fuel is required to compensate for the weight, which ans more weight…” Thalmin pondered aloud, the earthrealr nodding in acknowledgent at his observations.
“This creates a problem where reaching the void in a practical and efficient manner becos a near-impossible task. That is, unless you divide up the flight into different stages.” The earthrealr continued, bringing us unnaturally closer towards this firespear, at the key point where its four accessory components were discarded.
“This way, you can shed dead weight as you go, using as much fuel as you need for each stage, and ensuring that you need less fuel to burn for each successive stage as the craft becos ‘smaller’ and ‘lighter’ as it were.”
The scene continued, as soon too did this now disproportionately long and spindly body began breaking up, leaving only its conical tip to lazily ander upwards and its spire to spiral back down towards the ground below.
At which point… did I finally notice it.
The curvature of the globe.
Set against not any glowing seas of endless energy… but instead… nothingness.
The void, as Emma was so insistent on calling it.
It was at that mont, following this ludicrous explanation, of so of the most outlandish proclamations… did it all finally make sense.
Earthrealm… was a dead realm.
A manaless realm that through so abominable stroke of happenstance spawned life.
It stood to reason then, that in such a realm, with no mana to speak of… that the primavale may simply not exist.
That the rich expanse of infinite possibilities, of pure fullness and energy, was simply nonexistent here.
Instead, there was only darkness.
Darkness and emptiness.
Absolute nothingness.
It made sense now.
It all made sense.
“You are the children of a dead realm.” I managed out, interrupting Emma’s long-winded explanation of the chro tal ball that had since erged from the conical head of the broken-apart firespear.
“I’m sorry?”
“I… did not even notice the wispy darkness or blueness of your tapestry. Nor was there any… tear as we made our way past what should have been a clearly-defined boundary. It was brilliant blue in one mont, and in the next, a gradual gradient towards black.” I described, laying my observations out to bare.
“I don’t think I’m following here—”
“You have neither a tapestry nor a primavale. Your realm… floats amidst nothingness. Your people… are born from nothing. And now… you seek to return to the nothingness which surrounds you.” I took a deep breath, my eyes transfixed not only on that tal ball, but the globe it now hovered above. “Why? What about this dead nothingness draws you to expend ludicrous ti, effort, and resources on attaining access to it?!”
“The stars, Ilunor.” The earthrealr responded frustratingly calmly. “The stars and more significantly, the other realms which float amidst this sa nothingness.” She pointed at a distant body, one which the sight-seer helpfully highlighted.
Thalmin
“The moon is a realm?!”
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