It was the only logical explanation.
Hawkins knew very little of Abnormal grimoires. It was why they were known by such a term: unusual, unpredictable and like any grimoire that came his way; extremely dangerous. So how? How had it created a Triad without his permission?
Was it in a similar situation to a Lariat, only needing the Agars desire to be met to fulfil such a condition? It would make sense considering how his Trait had seemingly settled without Wisp by his side and how much of a liking it had taken to the little Trollian. But what about these memories? They definitely weren't his and the black grimoire was certainly living up to its namesake if it was the thing causing it.
Regardless, Memoriam was probably the only reason he wasn't a Truant right now. He had regained a considerable amount of Trait after resting but his control was still nowhere near the level of when he left for Axis. He could barely condense the smoke into a wall let alone create a highly detailed smoke clone to throw off enemies.
Cricket on the other hand had an abundance of Trait and now she had an idea of who she was up against, it would be extremely difficult taking the young girl by surprise without some sort of plan. Subduing her was no longer an option. The whole reason she hadn't returned from that feeble blast wasn't because she couldn't detect them. It was because for some reason she didn't feel the need to yet.
Triads were highly powerful but very unpredictable. Much like an Abnormal grimoire, much was lost about the documentation of creating it and was only passed along through rumours and hearsay. Heck, the only reason they even had a chance at completing one was because they had a highly knowledgeable Scale Shrieker and a group of crazy Traited with nothing left to lose.
But still...Cricket's motivations left a lot to be desired. A young girl stuck in a trance only to awaken once one of her comrades was fatally injured. Not Mantis. Not Cull but Rin. She was concerned only for Rin. To the point where she'd kill anyone that got in her way. So why Memoriam? Why trouble herself over a book she couldn't detect?
The stark similarities of their goals awoke Hawkins from his stupor, everyone staring at him with varying degrees of concern, confusion and annoyance yet no time seemed to have passed. The Mediator took a deep breath, eyeing the group in front of him and made a decision that he hoped he wouldn't come to regret. He knew in his heart that Rin had purposefully been skipped to allow her the deciding vote. Odi was on her side after all but the niggling feeling that she was hiding something didn't help his suspicions.
Creating a Triad was inevitable at this point. Heck, at least they had a choice in the matter. But before they began, Hawkins needed to put everything on the table, speculation or otherwise and trust that his companions knew what they were doing. Or at least whatever Hack and Odi felt was worth hiding from him.
"Triads are a very old type of Trait, rarely used anymore. It's understandable to be wary of it. But I think...I think that is what Cricket is after with regards to the black grimoire, Memoriam." Hawkins said, explaining his theory as best he could.
"What do you mean? Our boss wants the grimoire not Cricket." The half elf sneered, reminding him of who led their ragtag group of troublemakers.
Hawkins sighed, seeing no point getting mad over a simple fact. Any Mediator, be it a newly sworn in Sentry or a veteran like Hack knew of the Swarm's leader. Once a mysterious Fire Traited hidden by smoke and steel now a brazen schemer of a Lightning Traited, practically insane with a vicious bite against all things orderly.
There was only one reason they followed her. Hornet was power beyond words. If she got her hands on such a crazy grimoire, who knew how long they'd survive. If she found out it was attached to him? He'd never see Wisp again.
"I know but...if we make a Triad ourselves, we could be falling right into Cricket's hands by creating an unstable power source and making us easier to detect, or even control." Hawkins said, reminding them of Cricket's power.
Even Mantis stayed silent as the mood changed instantly, the realisation of such a simple logic sending them into a state of shock. Only Odi was able to reply, processing his theory and adding to it like any decent Mediator should.
"That is...plausible. Her Trait is unrefined and her ability to detect and attack could easily bode trouble later on. With the unpredictable power of Memoriam combined with her own…"
The Sand Wraith swore loudly, realising where she was going with it.
"Hell's teeth. That kind of power could-"
"Destroy everything. Just like what happened to Shuriken." Rin ended, visibly shaking at the prospect of such a horror.
Hawkins grit his teeth, another memory which he now knew to be from Memoriam pushed through the peripheral of his mind and demanded to be seen. It happened with trigger words, reminders of the past feeding through the link between worlds, between time itself. Eventually, he had no choice but to allow the past in and take what he could gleam from it.
A sea of black descended on him, chilling but comforting as mountains peaked through endless mists of lilac. He walked towards the horizon like a ghost in the wind, observing everything and nothing as children played along the water's edge, teasing sea dragons to resurface and submerge on a whim. They didn't speak but communicated with silent expressions, their glowing happiness clinging to the trees like frost on a winter's morning.
The scene shifted as pulleys and levers lifted those unable into the sky, its inhabitants constantly moving unless given willing passage in exchange for food or simple conversation. No tricks, no games, no lies. United in the desire to get from one place to another safely and without conflict. Dragons scrapped and people bickered but coercion between the two was never uttered. Everyone was allowed to change and grow as they saw fit. Traits and dragons alike.
Until the wave came. It was a dull light, no more than a candle being snuffed out from the wind but it held deadly consequences. The children that had been playing now crumpled to the ground, a wordless scream from the lips of corpses. Their stilless statues faded to dust as the sea dragons mourned in sirens song before succumbing to the same end. Hundreds became thousands as the wind swept away all evidence of life as even the trees died and grass withered into a silent grave of unwillingly sacrifice.
In its place, a pristine, clear dome of protection shone endlessly around Shuriken, the stench of death being cleansed one by one as five more barriers segregated the countries from harm outside their borders. The demons were absent from such a horrific sight of ruin and massacre, a large cube like prison now hung in place above the endless night surrounded only by opalescent light. No dragon would ever claim to remember such a sight again, the light clearing all memory of such a thing ever existing. Only the shadows of the past remembered.
The balance of Trait was never perfect but always given when it came to the Eternal Death of a contract cut short. A dragon had died giving birth to their eggs, treasured beyond words but still looked after all the same. Those who knew her grieved and those who wished they had would give her the choice that all received when longing for death.
Those who had once fought came together to share their power, their knowledge and their Trait. Necromancy had always been seen as a foul, disgusting act of evil but as the flowers wilted to give the dragon enough strength to provide a final request, they only felt grateful for the little time the she-dragon had been given to say goodbye.
The fires were lit, the cursed wounds healed and the spirit of the dragon passed on to declare her verdict. The flowers returned in all their glory, their energy returned and replaced tenfold by the grateful dragon. Her life was over but the choice she had made allowed her partner to return, free of strife to begin again with another Oathed.
It was then and only then did the Shadow Traited arrive.
Blunt and benevolent, they tied their fates together and vowed to the Laia to grant the contract made anew. Trait gathered in the earth, once cracked and broken now prosperous and thriving as each Shadow Traited summoned their grimoires and all offered a part of themselves to remain for the next generation.
A page was more than words, more than memories, more than their life as it was. It would be returned to them by the days end but the sacrifice to protect more than themselves drove the demons back and allowed those who had fallen to be remembered within more than the time they came from. This was a sacred act, tainted by misinterpretation but would still provide a guide for those who still wanted to learn. To truly know.
This was the origin of the Abnormal grimoire.
Eventually those pages became bound in promise and a select few chose to weld them for the country they came from and the people they chose to save. Hawkins had chosen long ago, long before he had shed blood to unlock a grimoire that wasn't his to gain. But that was his vice to bear without the recollection of doing so. Memoriam had tried to show him what it remembered but the hold of the unknowable oblivion was too great. So it showed what it knew for certain instead.
Grimoires began to evolve along with their creator, Traited everywhere guided in secret by necromancers, the first dwellers of the night as their practices were scorned by the light as abnormal and forbidden. Still they remained vigilant, allowing the other nations to learn from them until that knowledge became warped into truth. Truth became a curse. Lies became death itself.
Lockbinds were forged in secret to protect more than just the Bindsmiths who created them. Permission wasn't needed for a new kind of contract to be made, a life to be ruined by Agars and Lariat created in grief and revenge. Triads were lost twice over to false pasts and endless begging of refusals. Silvertongue was constantly harvested to even the odds of stolen power granted long ago only to create the same mistakes again with the wielders of Truthseeker who sought nothing but baseless justice.
All of it was connected.
Every past mistake.
Every future yet to come.
Transference was more than multiplied Trait but the Memory Weave was once more than what was left of its practices that remained. The Dual Traited were rare and revered for power instead of striving to be more than just that. Every technique passed down from generations was changed or fractured to create greed and famine, jealousy and hatred. Demons were never more demonic than shadow stealers, soul carvers and those who sought power beyond limitations.
Then came the Night Rider.
Shunned countless times, countless names, countless memories all under one single title. Ever changing but still the same unanswered question time and time again. All of it was to keep the bias hidden and the world in motion. That was all the Traited remembered. That was all their feeble minds were capable of.
Thirteen generations. One choice.
Live happily without the truth?
Or die to see it be known to the world?
The first: chose death. Her knowledge was a catalyst like the swords she forged against family and nobility alike. It was all to preserve the truth of two grimoires yet to be chosen but still held a past within the lies. She was trustworthy and kind but died without a single memory to help her fellow kinsmen in the unforgettable battles ahead.
The second and third: chose justice and revenge. Bound by ties they had made during countless friendships and fights alike, they vowed to return what had been taken away. Lost to their own self importance as thorn and bullets became their truth, never knowing what came beyond their narrow horizon of ironic fate. With land and storm both capable and versatile they stayed as gunslinger and avenger, Traited and siren, earth and sea forevermore.
Fourth, fifth and sixth chose life, in a sense. Their world view tainted and troubled by their own kind. Despite the perseverance they showed, they could not help but fall prey to the traps of the past laid out for them by enemies and ancestors of the fallen. What they did shaped the world they lived in both figuratively and literally but with spirit, strength and cunning these outsiders could not pierce the boundaries set before them.
Seventh and eighth chose knowledge: The outsiders last stand was both triumphant and heartbreaking. No matter how the world was mended after war and slavery, it could not change the conflict that had overcast the skies in endless uncertainty. All that was left to do was gather what they could and hoped what little impact was made would be enough to last lifetimes. With two different approaches a tentative balance was made. One continued to carve out legacies that helped countless races while the other sought out those ruins in later life to transcribe them and keep them safe under rock and sand.
Ninth, tenth and eleventh chose change: whether it be for the better or not remained to be seen but the Traited took back the mantle once the world was now set in motion. Secrets and truths, spirits and shadows changed hands time and time again, once inquisitive but flawed now corrupted and cursed by lives once peaceful brought to ash by reason and rebellion. What once was known became unbound and cleaved together by falsehoods and forgiveness only to sever what hope they had by foul trust and hidden sacrifices. Everything was reset and forgotten along with the knowledge and transgressions of those who longed to be remembered once more.
The last of the twelve chose wrong: bathed in the flames of war for centuries, they broke the cycle to confine the power to only two, two who started it all but never knew and fought only to forget. No amount of time could fix what had been done only a generation ago but still fought against the pull of fate. Weary and hopeless they chose to alter the will of the grimoire, forcing truth and lies to merge together in a feckless imbalance of fury and fate. Light and shadow became confined to undo all that had been done, leaving the last successor with nothing. Not even a name.
Thirteen. Had yet to be truly chosen.
Hawkins let out a staggered, wheezy breath, unable to comprehend the mass of information flooding through his mind. Not even his own theories caused him this much confusion, the separation between past and present events giving him whiplash like never before. He longed for his notebook, desperate to write down all he had seen, all he had been told but the words wouldn't form together.
It was like they were sealed within a Lockbind, a gap between worlds and generations of planned out calamities all because of necromancy. Of greed and misinformation. Rider wasn't just a name. It was a legacy. Whatever legacy one crazy necromancer had left at his unwilling doorstep was far heavier than his entire existence. It hurt. It hurt so much to know and not speak a word. But right now he couldn't let the pain show. He had to let the grimoire piece together everything before Cricket came to collect what she desired most.
A decision was made. Time began once again.
Mantis' reaction to the possibility of Shuriken being repeated made her face crumple in fear, dread and most of all: regret. Hawkins knew her feelings first hand. It was exactly how he felt now. Memoriam had just shown him how misusing necromancy led to nothing but destruction and Shuriken was not only the key but the very first casualty of such a horrific end.
"I didn't…"
Mantis struggled to find the words, her hand covering her mouth as the truth slowly dawned on her. She had not heard the black grimoires true name before but now the young Enforcer had she had no way of ridding herself of this fear. Hawkins couldn't help but suppress a smile, enjoying her finally starting to realise how dire the situation was.
"I didn't realise it was connected to...that." she said, her voice was much quieter. "I thought it was a standard job, retrieve the grimoire and get out. I thought it belonged to the Scale Shrieker or her damn Agar or a new type of grimoire or something. Not…"
Mantis couldn't say it.
"Rider."
Odi announced as if nothing was wrong, Hack growling at Mantis' lack of respect for the dragon before he could stop himself. Hawkins felt numb with misplaced sorrow, recognising the cool chill of the grimoire which once burned with rage at the thought of such sacreligious bias being spouted just days ago.
The memories came just as Hawkins expected them to, plummeting into cold, calculated silence as the massive amount of images cascaded through his mind. No one made a sound. Even Hawkins beating heart went quiet as flashes of light gave way to imagery of children sparring with each other to fighting fire breathing dragons to demons ravaging the lands with tooth and claw.
The children who had once fought against each other now rallied together as equals, light and shadow supporting each other with sword in hand and a determined glint in their eyes. They grew alongside each other, still bickering but continuing to fall in step with one another. One valued the kindness of the white dragon, protective and strong while the quick and cunning younger dragon had no choice but to ally with the other. Or so it was told.
The memories felt too cleanly placed as it sped through countless exchanges and battles before it came to a head and merged together with the death of someone near to them both. They vowed to only strike their blades against one another, the accusations set as their relationship was carved apart in more ways than they could ever imagine.
The two dragons had no say in the matter, their fate set not by them but by the fallen warrior who had changed everything just to choose once more. He chose wrong, but death was the choice he made to recover the truth from the past and redeem the ancestors from their curse. The Laia always knew, even if they didn't.
A wave of fear caused Hawkins to open his eyes, Mantis still fretting over the implications of Memoriam and the lies of the Swarm. Still it seemed no time had been misplaced, the shaking, swearing half elf still berating herself for things out of her control. It was a nice change to see someone else afraid but he couldn't help but feel bad for the things he had assumed about her.
"Fuck! Why...why does this always happen? First him and now…" Mantis trailed off, unable to finish her sentence.
She was a mix of annoyed, exhausted and really just...done with this whole crappy situation and Hawkins couldn't help but feel sorry for her, guilty that he had been glad to see her sad only moments ago. The young Enforcer quietly cried tears of frustration, her head in her hands. The others didn't know how to help but soon Rin stood up and gently hugged her, keeping one arm close around her as Mantis let out every emotion she was feeling in the quiet, abandoned street amongst the rubble of a destroyed grimoire shop.
"It's alright. We'll get through this just like always." Rin said, her voice quiet and soothing.
Hawkins looked away, embarrassed at interrupting such a heartfelt moment. He had no idea what they had been through and here he was accusing her of some kind of murderous teen with anger issues without thinking of how it affected her. In her mind, Mantis was responsible for everyone: the leader who managed everyone's lives, Traits and wellbeing as if it were her own. There was no doubt in his mind that Mantis blamed herself for Cricket's undoing. But she couldn't do the same for how she used her Trait.
Hawkins cast the sorrowful outlook aside for now, the niggling feeling of a larger force at work causing him to over analyze what Mantis had said amidst the swearing. Him. Who was he? Who had caused Mantis and Rin so much pain that not even Odi could look her in the eye? Whoever they were, it was unimaginable to think of what Mantis' group had been through.
The Scale Shriekers unease caught the attention of the two Firestep wolves as they ambled towards their companion, brushing heat onto the ground to warm the surroundings of the group once more. Odi settled against it, sighing gratefully as Blaize's words echoed in the Mediators mind.
Despite everything that happened, a Lariat still meant they wanted to be a contract with them.
Blaize settled behind her partner's sister, nudging Hazard as he begrudgingly sat near the stump like seat while the two women sat on the same seat, gently reassuring the other of how things were going to be OK. Mantis clung to the young Fire Traited, a red faced scowl softened as her eyes met Rin's. Hawkins couldn't help but smile, being reminded a little of his parents before the pang of loss hit him a little harder than he expected.
"Oh, crap! I forgot about the vote! Rin!" Odi exclaimed, her drowsy stupor against the heat suddenly dispersed alongside the dragon's distress.
Hawkins stifled a laugh as both Mantis and Rin were left in quite a compromising situation.
Hack had graciously lengthened Mantis' section of rock as she rested against the docile Fire Traited, her eyes closed in quiet bliss. She nestled against Rin's jacket, the harsh lines on her forehead lessening as she slept, a small tunnel of warm air surrounding them.
Odi looked stunned for a moment, as if her brain needed a second to reset and comprehend the lack of yelling from the hostile Air Traited. Rin blushed furiously, her gaze torn between her unconcious twin and protecting Mantis but Hack soon settled the conflict. He raised one grisled claw, sheathing his talons he formed a thumbs up, giving her a cassanova grin which finally burst the dam on Hawkins laughter.
Soon they were all quietly snickering at the absurdity of the situation they had found themselves in, not that they weren't happy for the two Traited. But the fact was that this time a few days prior, Mantis herself had threatened to kill Odi all for a book. Things had changed.
"You better cast your vote before it's too late Rinelle, otherwise our resident Smoke Traited might die from laughter." Odi jokes, her laughter causing her scales to shake joyfully.
The group chuckled as Rin smiled goodnaturedly, mulling over what the current standings were in her head. Hawkins could see the numbers whirring through her mind, the positives and negatives of choosing to use such a deadly device. The consequences were unfathomable due to how little they knew of a Triad succeeding when all knowledge except blind faith was all they had. No one had publicly formed a Triad in years. Now it was down to a single Fire Traited to choose their fate.
"I still want to help so...I vote yes. I want to be the one to try and create a Triad." Rin decided, firmly making her point known despite the mixed reactions.
Hawkins felt sick, his stomach lurching without decent food or alcohol. His mind blurred, instinctively expecting more memories to filter through but none came. He couldn't help but grimace, glancing around at his two companions to see their reactions but both were as impassive as ever. Indifferent yet supportive the expert concealers of their emotions, far better Mediators of impartiality than he would ever be.
Mantis yawned loudly, breaking the silence with a series of chuckles, her contented expression twisted into a disgruntled look of mild annoyance. Rin held her hand, not needing to say anything as she briefly nodded. Attempting to hold back a grin, Mantis blushed bright red before letting out a long drawn out sigh, her eyes drifting toward the red haired idiot in her team of reckless misfits.
"I still say it's too dangerous. But fine. You wake up that lousy brother of yours before I change my mind."