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Prologue
January 2013
The Event swept around the globe at local midnight of the New Year. Magic returned. A small fraction of the population changed from human into creatures of myth and legend. Old gods and monsters awoke from millenia of slumber or concealment. One of them died in nuclear fire after assassinating the President and Vice President of the United States, along with half of their cabinet. John Boehner became the President of the United States as the senior survivor in the Presidential Succession Act. Governments fell in China, North Korea, the Saudi peninsula, and the Sahara, unable to deal with the new reality – or the old and new Powers that awoke. Here and there, ordinary people woke up to find themselves possessed of new powers and abilities. And of those, unknown even to themselves at first, a few found themselves the new Immortals, potential gods and goddesses of the next cycle of Magic.
* * * *
7 November 2016
Los Alamos National Laboratory, New Mexico
Apotheosis does not always come with fierce storms, dramatic conflicts, and a bombastic faux-Latin soundtrack. Sometimes it arrives unexpectedly, quietly and as the result of hard work.
Five people sat in a converted hangar, watching the clock on the wall tick toward midnight. Three were normal sized, though only one was still human. The other two were bipedal wolves, one white-furred and one gray. One was small and delicately proportioned, aside from the fangs, wings, and enormous and elaborately ridged ears. All four were wearing bathrobes. The fifth wore nothing at all. Dragons, even dragon changelings, have no need for modesty.
“Well, my friends. The moment of truth is almost upon us.” The red-haired sorceress who was already known as Stardancer smiled at the others. “It's been almost four years since the magic returned, and two years since Janet came to me with her proposal. You've all helped put it together, and it is time to activate it.”
Captain Karen Sterling, USN, who would one day be known as Shadow, looked rather put out, perching clumsily on a chair with her bathrobe draped awkwardly over her wings. “Yes, Stardancer, we all contributed to it. You ran me through the spells that will put stealth on whatever it is we are doing, and I am well aware of need-to-know. But I wouldn't even have gone that far if I didn't trust you and Janet. Unless you tell me what in Hades we are about to do, I will not join the final ritual.” The little bat-changeling hunkered down, glaring at the others.
Janet Lowe, the white-furred wolf-changeling known to some as the Diviner and to the public at large as the Director of the National Security Agency, nodded. “Fair enough. Stardancer had to know, since she put it all together. And Kenneth had to know, because he did most of the work. It's something that needs doing. I tried doing part of it myself two years ago, using only my own abilities, and managed to give myself a splitting headache after only a few minutes. And even though I -knew- afterwards, even from that short exposure, I had no way to prove anything that would stand up in court.”
Sterling sat up, alarmed. “You're going to meddle with the election, aren't you.”
Kenneth McKenzie, engineer, programmer, and dragon, rumbled amusement. “Only in a technical sense, Captain. We are going to ensure that it is -honest-. Completely and totally honest, for perhaps the first time since 1792. I should know – I wrote the code that will interface with the computerized voting machines.”
The bat frowned. “And you need me to make sure you aren't caught, don't you? What if you're lying?”
John Whitford, the wolf called Guardian by the few Immortals who had survived the preceding two thousand years without magic, shook his head. “Captain, you were with us four years ago, when the Change started and we warded the Pentagon. You remember what happened in the casting circle, don't you? The...” He waved a furred hand vaguely in the air. “...mind-melding, for want of a better term?”
The bat thought back to that night of rain and lightning and chaos. “That will happen again?”
Stardancer nodded. “It will. If you sense that we are deceiving you, or even trying to hide something, you will be free to break the casting. Will you assist us, Captain, on that basis?”
The bat sighed. “I suppose I must. In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say. And judging from the recommended attire for this little party, I assume we have to be skyclad again?”
Stardancer chuckled. “Afraid so. At least there won't be an audience this time.”
Lowe sighed, almost wistfully, and slipped into her persona as the prophetess Diviner. “A pity, really. We are all part of the new group of Immortals, perhaps to be almost a pantheon after a few centuries. I think it would be fitting to let them know that our first act -as- a pantheon was to uphold the Constitution.”
Whitford shook his head. “Maybe later. But not just yet. If your suspicions are correct, letting the ones who want to manipulate the elections know who spiked their plans would be a bad idea. We are immortal only in the sense that we will not grow old, Jandi. You've already proven that our kind can be killed.”
Stardancer watched the clock tick down toward midnight. “And it is time. Places, everyone. Kenneth, if you would shut the lights off? And lose the cross, please, Karen. Skyclad means wearing -nothing-.”
The lights went out as the dragon manipulated a remote the size of a sofa, and the five took their places on the pentagram. Stardancer began the ritual, lighting the candles at each point of the star before initiating the spell itself. “Quaerimus nisi quod verum est...” We seek only the truth...
* * * *
8 November 2016
2330 Mountain Standard Time
ABC News
“... and it looks like there are going to be some very surprising results tonight, David. In New York's 13th District, Representative Charles Rangel has been handily defeated by former state senator Adriano Espaillat. You may recall this same hotly contested election two years ago, when Congressman Rangel held onto his long-term seat after a hard fought campaign. Everyone expected the rematch to go the same way, but it seems that the demographic shift has made the Dominican-American candidate more popular with the voters. And he is not the only unexpected upset tonight...”
“And pardon me for interrupting, Tom, but we have a declaration in the Presidential race. Illinois, in a surprisingly close race, is now definitely in the Democratic column, and its 20 electoral votes go to Hillary Clinton.” The map behind the two anchors shifted the formerly white state to blue. Indiana and Kentucky were already red, and while Pennsylvania and Ohio were still white on the map, the results were leaning heavily toward Republican wins in both states.
“That was certainly a nail-biter, David. Ms. Clinton is not doing as well as the exit polls predicted in a number of states...”
The Director of the NSA smiled nastily at the screen. “That would be because you conducted your exit polls at a time when you could skew the results to favor her, didn't you? Surprise, surprise. The election results are going to match the -honest- polls this time, not the ones that got distorted so you could slip in your fake results.” She turned her attention to one of the computer screens beside her as it chimed for attention. “And how about that. Some of our dear friends in Philadelphia tried to report completely made-up numbers to Harrisburg, but our arrangement ensured that the correct ones went through. No, I can't prove it in a court yet, but now I'll know who the FBI should be watching.”
Whitford smirked at his mate. “It's a good thing I'm sitting here, or you'd sound like a movie villain cackling to yourself, dear.”
“All in a good cause. I'll have some scary people in black shades visit the more egregious of our cheaters – from both sides of the aisle – and warn them that next time they'll end up in Leavenworth. But it's going to be interesting to have an honest election for once. And it looks like my boss is going to keep his job. No surprise, really. The Democrats have been in disarray since Quetzalcoatl's attack on the White House, and Boehner's success against the terrorists - with a little help from Prince Haroun, of course – has kept him popular enough. The Hispanics are still unhappy about us using a nuke to take out the Snake, but not enough to compensate for Hillary's problems. And picking Jindal to be Veep? Definitely helped spike the immigration issue. For all that certain commentators kept claiming he wasn't a real Indian, the fact that his parents were immigrants put the lie to the idea that Republicans intend to ban it or something.”
“I'm not sure if they thought he was supposed to be an American Indian, actually. I'll swear some of them are that stupid.” The gray wolf shook his head. “The only downside, my dear, is that if Boehner keeps his job, you'll keep yours. Are you ready for four more years of this?”
Lowe smiled wistfully. “I'm the Diviner. As I told Karen yesterday, they will probably be calling me the Goddess of Knowledge before this cycle switches back. If I can't handle this job, who can?”
* * * *
1 January 2017
A villa near Grenoble, France
He could feel it. The world was changing again, and his powers were returning. Slowly at first, and one learned patience in the course of eight thousand years, give or take a century. It had always been easy in the old days to move on after a decade or two, or to simply play the vagabond for decades at a time. But after the Great War, bureaucracy had expanded. He'd taken advantage of the Second World War and its aftermath to get new papers and reset his official age, but by the turn of the century he'd had to try again. And while he could charm almost anyone in person, he had no skill with computers. It had attracted attention.
The wealthy gentleman who had come to his vineyard had introduced himself as Monsieur Richilieu – an interesting choice of pseudonym, he thought - and informed him that a ninety-year-old who appeared to be twenty-five owed it to la belle France to let himself be studied, to find out the secret of his long life. He was morally certain that the distinguished gentleman was really only interested in prolonging his own life – after so many years, he could read most mortals like an open book – but there seemed no point in arguing the matter, so he feigned enthusiasm and patriotism and let himself be poked and prodded and sampled by confused doctors and biologists.
Accordingly, his captivity had not been truly unpleasant up to this point, and there was no profit in making an escape attempt that might fail and alert his keepers that they needed to take more active measures. So he suppressed the urge to use his reawakened abilities immediately when the Convergence brought magic back into the world. He waited, with the patience and skills of an Immortal, rebuilding his strength, mapping out the entire complex, waiting until the time would be right. When he left, he wanted to leave no clues behind, no hint of who he really was – and no way for them to track him down again.
It had been four years since the Convergence started, his powers getting stronger year by year. This time around, the surges came at the date of the New Year, rather than at the Solstice or one of the other more common touchstones of the annual cycle, but that was not important as long as he knew when to expect them. Perhaps this was the one that would give him his chance. And if not, then maybe the next one would.
His guardians celebrated the holiday with him. After all, he was cooperative and agreeable and had never tried to escape, and deserved to be rewarded for it with a luxuriously gilded cage. Mere money, after all, was no object for 'Richilieu' (the man's name was actually de Revol, he'd overheard once). And so they'd toasted the New Year with a truly excellent vintage, and he'd retired to his rooms to read.
At one in the morning, the world shifted again. This time, the power grids went down piecemeal as the coordinating signals between power plants vanished. The villa had its own emergency generators, of course, but the distortion of the Convergence meant that they did not come up automatically. And when the lights finally came back on, Jean Renard was nowhere to be found.
No one even noticed the little fox tracks leading into the forest.
January 2013
The Event swept around the globe at local midnight of the New Year. Magic returned. A small fraction of the population changed from human into creatures of myth and legend. Old gods and monsters awoke from millenia of slumber or concealment. One of them died in nuclear fire after assassinating the President and Vice President of the United States, along with half of their cabinet. John Boehner became the President of the United States as the senior survivor in the Presidential Succession Act. Governments fell in China, North Korea, the Saudi peninsula, and the Sahara, unable to deal with the new reality – or the old and new Powers that awoke. Here and there, ordinary people woke up to find themselves possessed of new powers and abilities. And of those, unknown even to themselves at first, a few found themselves the new Immortals, potential gods and goddesses of the next cycle of Magic.
* * * *
7 November 2016
Los Alamos National Laboratory, New Mexico
Apotheosis does not always come with fierce storms, dramatic conflicts, and a bombastic faux-Latin soundtrack. Sometimes it arrives unexpectedly, quietly and as the result of hard work.
Five people sat in a converted hangar, watching the clock on the wall tick toward midnight. Three were normal sized, though only one was still human. The other two were bipedal wolves, one white-furred and one gray. One was small and delicately proportioned, aside from the fangs, wings, and enormous and elaborately ridged ears. All four were wearing bathrobes. The fifth wore nothing at all. Dragons, even dragon changelings, have no need for modesty.
“Well, my friends. The moment of truth is almost upon us.” The red-haired sorceress who was already known as Stardancer smiled at the others. “It's been almost four years since the magic returned, and two years since Janet came to me with her proposal. You've all helped put it together, and it is time to activate it.”
Captain Karen Sterling, USN, who would one day be known as Shadow, looked rather put out, perching clumsily on a chair with her bathrobe draped awkwardly over her wings. “Yes, Stardancer, we all contributed to it. You ran me through the spells that will put stealth on whatever it is we are doing, and I am well aware of need-to-know. But I wouldn't even have gone that far if I didn't trust you and Janet. Unless you tell me what in Hades we are about to do, I will not join the final ritual.” The little bat-changeling hunkered down, glaring at the others.
Janet Lowe, the white-furred wolf-changeling known to some as the Diviner and to the public at large as the Director of the National Security Agency, nodded. “Fair enough. Stardancer had to know, since she put it all together. And Kenneth had to know, because he did most of the work. It's something that needs doing. I tried doing part of it myself two years ago, using only my own abilities, and managed to give myself a splitting headache after only a few minutes. And even though I -knew- afterwards, even from that short exposure, I had no way to prove anything that would stand up in court.”
Sterling sat up, alarmed. “You're going to meddle with the election, aren't you.”
Kenneth McKenzie, engineer, programmer, and dragon, rumbled amusement. “Only in a technical sense, Captain. We are going to ensure that it is -honest-. Completely and totally honest, for perhaps the first time since 1792. I should know – I wrote the code that will interface with the computerized voting machines.”
The bat frowned. “And you need me to make sure you aren't caught, don't you? What if you're lying?”
John Whitford, the wolf called Guardian by the few Immortals who had survived the preceding two thousand years without magic, shook his head. “Captain, you were with us four years ago, when the Change started and we warded the Pentagon. You remember what happened in the casting circle, don't you? The...” He waved a furred hand vaguely in the air. “...mind-melding, for want of a better term?”
The bat thought back to that night of rain and lightning and chaos. “That will happen again?”
Stardancer nodded. “It will. If you sense that we are deceiving you, or even trying to hide something, you will be free to break the casting. Will you assist us, Captain, on that basis?”
The bat sighed. “I suppose I must. In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say. And judging from the recommended attire for this little party, I assume we have to be skyclad again?”
Stardancer chuckled. “Afraid so. At least there won't be an audience this time.”
Lowe sighed, almost wistfully, and slipped into her persona as the prophetess Diviner. “A pity, really. We are all part of the new group of Immortals, perhaps to be almost a pantheon after a few centuries. I think it would be fitting to let them know that our first act -as- a pantheon was to uphold the Constitution.”
Whitford shook his head. “Maybe later. But not just yet. If your suspicions are correct, letting the ones who want to manipulate the elections know who spiked their plans would be a bad idea. We are immortal only in the sense that we will not grow old, Jandi. You've already proven that our kind can be killed.”
Stardancer watched the clock tick down toward midnight. “And it is time. Places, everyone. Kenneth, if you would shut the lights off? And lose the cross, please, Karen. Skyclad means wearing -nothing-.”
The lights went out as the dragon manipulated a remote the size of a sofa, and the five took their places on the pentagram. Stardancer began the ritual, lighting the candles at each point of the star before initiating the spell itself. “Quaerimus nisi quod verum est...” We seek only the truth...
* * * *
8 November 2016
2330 Mountain Standard Time
ABC News
“... and it looks like there are going to be some very surprising results tonight, David. In New York's 13th District, Representative Charles Rangel has been handily defeated by former state senator Adriano Espaillat. You may recall this same hotly contested election two years ago, when Congressman Rangel held onto his long-term seat after a hard fought campaign. Everyone expected the rematch to go the same way, but it seems that the demographic shift has made the Dominican-American candidate more popular with the voters. And he is not the only unexpected upset tonight...”
“And pardon me for interrupting, Tom, but we have a declaration in the Presidential race. Illinois, in a surprisingly close race, is now definitely in the Democratic column, and its 20 electoral votes go to Hillary Clinton.” The map behind the two anchors shifted the formerly white state to blue. Indiana and Kentucky were already red, and while Pennsylvania and Ohio were still white on the map, the results were leaning heavily toward Republican wins in both states.
“That was certainly a nail-biter, David. Ms. Clinton is not doing as well as the exit polls predicted in a number of states...”
The Director of the NSA smiled nastily at the screen. “That would be because you conducted your exit polls at a time when you could skew the results to favor her, didn't you? Surprise, surprise. The election results are going to match the -honest- polls this time, not the ones that got distorted so you could slip in your fake results.” She turned her attention to one of the computer screens beside her as it chimed for attention. “And how about that. Some of our dear friends in Philadelphia tried to report completely made-up numbers to Harrisburg, but our arrangement ensured that the correct ones went through. No, I can't prove it in a court yet, but now I'll know who the FBI should be watching.”
Whitford smirked at his mate. “It's a good thing I'm sitting here, or you'd sound like a movie villain cackling to yourself, dear.”
“All in a good cause. I'll have some scary people in black shades visit the more egregious of our cheaters – from both sides of the aisle – and warn them that next time they'll end up in Leavenworth. But it's going to be interesting to have an honest election for once. And it looks like my boss is going to keep his job. No surprise, really. The Democrats have been in disarray since Quetzalcoatl's attack on the White House, and Boehner's success against the terrorists - with a little help from Prince Haroun, of course – has kept him popular enough. The Hispanics are still unhappy about us using a nuke to take out the Snake, but not enough to compensate for Hillary's problems. And picking Jindal to be Veep? Definitely helped spike the immigration issue. For all that certain commentators kept claiming he wasn't a real Indian, the fact that his parents were immigrants put the lie to the idea that Republicans intend to ban it or something.”
“I'm not sure if they thought he was supposed to be an American Indian, actually. I'll swear some of them are that stupid.” The gray wolf shook his head. “The only downside, my dear, is that if Boehner keeps his job, you'll keep yours. Are you ready for four more years of this?”
Lowe smiled wistfully. “I'm the Diviner. As I told Karen yesterday, they will probably be calling me the Goddess of Knowledge before this cycle switches back. If I can't handle this job, who can?”
* * * *
1 January 2017
A villa near Grenoble, France
He could feel it. The world was changing again, and his powers were returning. Slowly at first, and one learned patience in the course of eight thousand years, give or take a century. It had always been easy in the old days to move on after a decade or two, or to simply play the vagabond for decades at a time. But after the Great War, bureaucracy had expanded. He'd taken advantage of the Second World War and its aftermath to get new papers and reset his official age, but by the turn of the century he'd had to try again. And while he could charm almost anyone in person, he had no skill with computers. It had attracted attention.
The wealthy gentleman who had come to his vineyard had introduced himself as Monsieur Richilieu – an interesting choice of pseudonym, he thought - and informed him that a ninety-year-old who appeared to be twenty-five owed it to la belle France to let himself be studied, to find out the secret of his long life. He was morally certain that the distinguished gentleman was really only interested in prolonging his own life – after so many years, he could read most mortals like an open book – but there seemed no point in arguing the matter, so he feigned enthusiasm and patriotism and let himself be poked and prodded and sampled by confused doctors and biologists.
Accordingly, his captivity had not been truly unpleasant up to this point, and there was no profit in making an escape attempt that might fail and alert his keepers that they needed to take more active measures. So he suppressed the urge to use his reawakened abilities immediately when the Convergence brought magic back into the world. He waited, with the patience and skills of an Immortal, rebuilding his strength, mapping out the entire complex, waiting until the time would be right. When he left, he wanted to leave no clues behind, no hint of who he really was – and no way for them to track him down again.
It had been four years since the Convergence started, his powers getting stronger year by year. This time around, the surges came at the date of the New Year, rather than at the Solstice or one of the other more common touchstones of the annual cycle, but that was not important as long as he knew when to expect them. Perhaps this was the one that would give him his chance. And if not, then maybe the next one would.
His guardians celebrated the holiday with him. After all, he was cooperative and agreeable and had never tried to escape, and deserved to be rewarded for it with a luxuriously gilded cage. Mere money, after all, was no object for 'Richilieu' (the man's name was actually de Revol, he'd overheard once). And so they'd toasted the New Year with a truly excellent vintage, and he'd retired to his rooms to read.
At one in the morning, the world shifted again. This time, the power grids went down piecemeal as the coordinating signals between power plants vanished. The villa had its own emergency generators, of course, but the distortion of the Convergence meant that they did not come up automatically. And when the lights finally came back on, Jean Renard was nowhere to be found.
No one even noticed the little fox tracks leading into the forest.
Category Story / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 120 x 115px
File Size 29.9 kB
Listed in Folders
There is a Manhattan Project level conversion program going on, so far mainly research and digging up non-electronic tech. Pipelines and such are being returned to pre-electronic methodology at the moment, and they're building steam locomotives again; at the same time they are working on converting the energy grid to mana, or at least trying to.
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