"Over the whole Basin?"

"That's what they said." Jin shrugged.

"That's what who said?" asked Nera.

"The astrologers."

"Since when do astrologers predict the weather? I mean, I know they understand
a lot more now than back when astrology was rediscovered a couple of centuries
ago, but--"

"You should have been there to hear the Prince explain it. There was something
about a pattern of signs which represent 'Water Rising' and another, right
after, which represent 'Water Falling'. It's to do with the syzygy."

Nera looked up from her textbook, blinking at Jin. "The sizzle-gee? What's
that?"

"Syzygy," Jin said slowly, patiently, sounding out each syllable individually;
then before Nera could ask again, he continued, "It's when the planets and
bodies align, so that they all seem to be in the same place in the sky at once.
Apparently this amplifies certain astrological forces tremendously. They only
come along every... ummm... some number of years, I can't remember what Prince
Saros said, he was going on at some length in an explanation no one really
wanted to hear, so I think I missed the actual answer."

Nera chuckled. "Of course he was. So when is this flooding rain supposed to
happen?"

"Estar." Jin scratched thoughtfully at a loose scale behind his ear. "The
Archmage seemed very distracted by this. Like, once she heard about the rains,
she didn't seem to be paying attention to anything else. Faraway look in her
eyes, like she was trying to remember something. I had to nudge her when it
was time to leave."

"Was she angry?" Nera's young eyes were wide with apprehension.

"No, that's the thing. She was so distracted she just let me lead her back to
her office and immediately started digging through her books. She didn't even
dismiss me. I just left after a while when it was plain my duties were done."

"Maybe she's thinking there'll be flooding."

"Oh, there will. The Prince was very clear about that. A message has already
been sent to Serenwilde so they can be prepared."

"Mmmhmmm," Nera said. "So what else did they talk about? I can't believe you
get to sit in on the Council meetings."

"And I can't believe the lengths you'll go to, to avoid doing your homework,"
Jin replied. "There's a test tomorrow on demesne topology and I'm going to
fail, I know it." Nera giggled girlishly. "I'm not kidding!" Jin protested,
and threw a crumpled up bit of paper at her. Girls... that's another test he
was sure he would fail.

* * * * *

"How much power did you say it would take?"

The Archmage's eyes lowered. "I didn't say." She folded her hands within her
voluminous robes, seeming shy as a girl a fifth her age.

"Well?" Prince Saros was growing annoyed. "How much would you have said, if
you had said, hypothetically speaking?"

She told him.

The Prince sputtered for a few seconds, uncharacteristically speechless, before
finally eking out the words, "Do we even have that much?"

"Not quite, but if we redouble our efforts at power gathering, we can have
enough in time. Just barely."

"So it'll leave the Pool of Stars entirely drained?"

"Yes. Plus we'll have to dismiss our guards and lower our nexus fields.
And..."

"And what?"

"And everyone will have to link their personal reserves back into the Pool.
We'll be able to afford only a tiny amount for ourselves."

"Absolutely not. That will leave us entirely defenseless."

"Only for a short time, Lesmos," Darrsa said, resting her hand on his forearm.
The Prince quirked an eyebrow at her and she withdrew her hand. So he was going
to be like that, was he? She despaired of ever understanding his feelings,
about her, or about anything. Assuming he really even had any, that is.
Sometimes he could be so kind, so charming, and she allowed herself to believe
he felt something for her. And at other times, he was no longer Lesmos Saros,
but only The Prince. With a more formal tone, she went on. "Once the rains
have washed away all the Taint in the Basin, it will be easy for us to rebuild
our power reserves. And what threat will we be defenseless against?"

"I do not entirely trust the Serenwilde," replied the Prince. "We have had
cordial relations with them for almost ten years now, but how many times have
such relations been had and lost before now?"

"Surely they will appreciate the idea of a final solution to the Taint, a way
to wash it clean from the entire Basin at once. Particularly as the new
Seneschal is a Moondancer, is he not?"

"I wonder," Lesmos said, his eyes distant. "Perhaps we could get them to
contribute some of the power."

"Then you'll do it? We'll do it?" the Archmage said, raising her eyes
hopefully.

"We will consider it," the Prince replied in clipped tones. "Prepare
yourselves. I will set the city to gathering power, then I will go pay a call
on the Seneschal."

* * * * *

"Apparently, Archmage Darrsa found it somewhere in an old book, written over a
century ago. Some research project of the aquamancers, a theoretical
exposition on how to infuse rain itself with the aquamancer's ability to drive
out the taint, like they do when they break a geomancer's demesne. Not that
anyone back then believed they could ever affect that much rain at once; this
was barely a half-century after astrology was rediscovered."

"So they want power from us to drive this?" asked the Heirophant.

The Seneschal nodded. "Quite a lot. Lesmos was cagey about it, but seemed to
be suggesting they wouldn't have enough, and another syzygy wouldn't come along
for decades or centuries, so we had to. But a dreamwalker reported to me that
talk amongst the aquamancers said they would have enough, but it would leave
them entirely drained. They just want us to put in some, so they won't be so
weak."

"If they can do as they say, drive out Taint from the entire Basin all at once,
why shouldn't we?" the Great Chieftain inquired, idly grooming her paw as she
asked. "It would be well worth it."

"Aye, that much is true. Then I should tell him--"

"Nothing," the High Priest of the Moon interjected, "until we have consulted
the Great Spirits. Let us not rush into things. There is something odd afoot
in the world right now, something I can't quite put my finger on."

"Maybe the syzygy?" inquired the Seneschal.

"Maybe," replied the High Priest, trailing off distractedly. "Though it
seems--"

The door burst open and in rushed the Minister of Power. She came to a sudden
stop as she found the Great Chieftain's blade at her throat. "Sorry," the
Great Chieftain said, sheathing her rapier in a movement almost too fast to be
followed. "Old habits of an old soldier. Better safe than sorry."

"Sorry to interrupt," the Minister of Power said breathlessly, his eye
nervously fixed on the Great Chieftain, "but I thought you'd want to know. The
Fates have returned."

* * * * *

"Our reasons are our own," the Fates spoke in harmony. "We told you that we
would return one day. That day is today."

The Star Council nodded gravely to one another before the Archmage spoke.
"We..." she began timidly, her eyes locked on the oldest of the three sisters.
Timeless, they were, of course; how odd, then, that they seemed to be different
ages. Darrsa couldn't even tell what race they were, yet a part of her mind
wondered distractedly if she looked as old as Atropos yet. She still felt the
same as she had when she'd just completed her studies in aquamancy, nearly 60
years earlier. She was broken out of her reverie by a gentle nudge from...
what was the name of that student who was assigned as her porter? Ah, yes,
Jin. Nice boy.

She returned her focus to the Fates. "We have a plan we're calling Operation
Cleansing Rain. It's a way to infuse the storms that the syzygy will bring,
with the power of aquamancy, to drive Taint out of not just the lands but the
people, the creatures, even the Tainted forest itself. Across the entire
Basin. It is based on research from--"

"Yes, we know of the plan," the Fates answered. "We saw when the research was
woven into the tapestry almost two hundred of your years ago."

Darrsa nodded nervously, still not quite believing she was speaking to the
Fates themselves. "If we do this, will it, as we intend, drive out the Taint
from the entire Basin?"

"No."

"No?" Darrsa was crestfallen. "Is there some way--"

"There will be a few small pockets of Taint left behind, very few, very small.
And it will take years for the higher planes to cleanse themselves naturally,
though they will, as long as the last bits of Taint left here are prevented
from flourishing again, a task that should be easy for those who remain."

"So, what of Magnagora, and Glomdoring?"

"Magnagora will be destroyed. It is too far into the Taint to be saved.
Glomdoring... Glomdoring will be destroyed as well. Gloriana will be reborn
from its ashes."

"That's what will happen if we carry out Operation Cleansing Rain?" the
Archmage asked excitedly.

"Yes."

Darrsa bowed deeply, mouthing her thanks, and began to back away, until she
bumped into Jin and almost fell over. The boy looked distressed, like he
wanted to say something. Nice boy, but a bit impetuous; sometimes he forgot he
was only her porter, and that only as punishment for some misbehavior involving
a girl named Nera that Darrsa didn't think she'd even ever met. "Come, Jin,"
she said, "our audience is concluded."

"No, wait," the boy was saying, impossibly. "This is the same mistake that
they made before Operation Cosmic Hope. Asking the wrong questions, not asking
enough questions."

The Archmage was taken aback, and for a moment only stared speechless at Jin,
opening her mouth to speak only to close it wordlessly several times.
Impetuous indeed, but this was too much! Not even a novice yet, and already
talking back to the Archmage, and in front of the very Fates themselves! She
turned over various retorts in her head, seeking the one that would best remind
him of the limits of his audacity, but before she could choose one, the boy had
turned and was speaking to the Fates themselves!

"Will Operation Cleansing Rain harm Celest?" he asked them, pointedly, almost
imperiously.

"Please pardon my--" Darrsa began, but the Fates paid her no attention at all,
instead addressing him with as much gravity as they had her a moment before.

"No," they said. "Apart from the power usage, of which you already know. Oh,
the flooding from the rains will cause a few basements to cave in, but that
would happen with or without Operation Cleansing Rain," they added, and Darrsa
almost imagined a wry smile on the lips of Clotho, the youngest of the Fates.

"Thank you," Jin said, then turned to Darrsa. "See, isn't that reassuring? If
only someone had thought to ask better questions before Project Cosmic Hope."
He smiled and nodded, then finally noticed the withering look in the Archmage's
eyes and gulped nervously. "Ummm, begging your pardon, ma'am." He scratched
harshly at his scales, worrying about how much trouble he was getting himself
into now.

"Very true," the Fates said before Darrsa could speak. "We are almost never
asked the right questions." With a wave, the Fates turned and seemed to walk
away, their figures receding swiftly before vanishing.

* * * * *

"Hurry! It's almost time! This opportunity will not come again for a
lifetime!"

"What about the Serens... are they bringing their part of the power?"

The Prince shook his head. "They seem to be still squabbling amongst
themselves about something or other, perhaps this, perhaps something else. The
Seneschal was cagey about the whole thing. You can never get a straight answer
out of any of them, let alone out of the lot of them at once. But we should
have enough ourselves. It will fall to New Celest alone to erase the mistake
of Old Celest, and perhaps that is more fitting. Are your aquamancers
prepared?"

"They are," the Archmage said. "They are gathered now before the Pool. I dare
say most of the city is; those that know what will happen want to see, and those
that do not, want to know."

"It is time I told my people," Lesmos said. "Make your final preparations. We
will both be ready before nightfall."

"I'm... I'm receiving word from one of my dreamwalkers who was sent abroad to
monitor things. Apparently, the Magnagorans know something is going on. Their
forces are massed on the Great Southern Highway, along with most of Glomdoring.
They are marching this way. And..." Darrsa's eyes were distant as she
concentrated on aetherwaves barely audible in her ear. "Oh, good. It seems
the Serens have noticed this and are themselves forming up their troops to
intercept them. Should we send the Paladins to aid?"

Prince Saros shook his head. "We need their power. If a few score Serens die
before the rains come, it is no great loss." He smiled wryly. "Serves them
right for not getting around to bringing us the power we asked. Quickly now,
the planets are almost upon one another." He strode purposefully out, heading
for the Pool, preparing his words in his mind as he walked. "This day will
never be forgotten so long as New Celest stands," he said to himself. "Yes,
that's a good opener. That'll get the crowds on their feet."

* * * * *

"Warlord! The Dome of Stars has just lowered!"

"Yes, I can see that," the Warlord replied dryly.

"And scouts report that the guards in Delport, Hornsburg, Dairuchi, and
Southgard have all been relieved of their duty!"

"Hmmm," said the Supreme Commander. "What could they be up to?" She fingered
her dagger until blood, almost black under the gathering clouds, trickled
slowly down the blade.

"It doesn't matter," the Warlord said, "so long as we strike quickly enough
that they cannot complete it. If they lower their defenses, we strike."

"I'm not sure," the Earthen Ire said, standing just behind the Warlord.
"There's something odd in the air."

"The syzygy," the Warlord said matter-of-factly, just as the clouds began to
unburden themselves of heavy rain. "No doubt they intend some kind of rite,
probably to raise a Vernal God in hopes that she can crush us." He laughed a
dry, bitter laugh. "It will be a delight to see her blood run into the Pool
just as they begin their rite. See that the archers are ready."

Lightning crashed, somewhere nearby, as the storm intensified. Then another
bolt struck, and for a moment it was as if time stopped; every drop of rain,
hanging in the air, was illuminated by the lightning's flash, taking on an
inner glow, as if a tiny star was entrapped within, giving off pure Light.
Then came the thunder, only an instant later, and suddenly the world was moving
again.

There was a strange hissing sound, like steam, coming from all around. And
suddenly the troops were no longer marching. No one shouted orders, no one
threatened pain or punishment, no one even growled. Everyone, even the
Warlord, was consumed in agony as each drop that struck flesh, that worked its
way in through the joints of armor, that puddled in quickly rising pools on the
ground, ate away like acid at skin, at bone, even at the dark metal of swords
and staves. The smell was impossibly strong. There was a keening, the sound
of a thousand voices whimpering and wailing at once, that would soon drown out
the storm.

The Warlord turned slowly, his heavy helm slowing the advance of the
Light-infused rain into his putrid flesh. There, he saw the Earthen Ire, his
eyes turned upward to gaze at the clouds... or rather, the place where his eyes
had been; now there was only a faint hint of some kind of ichor streaming down
his cheeks. There, the Keeper of the Black Nest, trying to pull a cloak of
crow's feathers over him, only to find the feathers even more sensitive to the
rain's withering effect; the cloak itself was catching fire. Slowly he turned
to look back, first at Glomdoring, which was burning brightly, a flame whose
light could be seen, he was sure, all the way in Rockholm. Then to Magnagora.
Slowly he removed his helm, stupefied at the sight before him, feeling something
unfamiliar... despair?

The Megalith was plainly visible now, the dome having splintered around it.
Every raindrop that struck it glowed, and energy crackled over the mighty
stone, sparking from one droplet to another, dancing, writhing out of control.
It seemed somehow as if the Megalith was getting larger. Swelling, the
crackling lightning coursing over it.

A bolt of lightning reached out of the sky, almost languidly. It caressed the
Megalith, just brushing against it, a light touch, like a feather. There was a
crack of thunder.

As the Warlord sank to his knees, his legs almost melting beneath his armor, he
stared at the smoking ruins of what was once Magnagora. Drops of corrosive rain
streamed down his sallow cheeks like tears, leaving trails of mottled blood in
their wake. "Nil," he said, and died.

* * * * *

"Apparently, some of the army that was marching on us is still, very slowly,
approaching," the Prince said.

"What?" Darrsa cupped her hand over her ear, trying to hear Lesmos over all
the cheering and hollering going on all around her. The city was more
exuberant than she could have imagined. Even the Lord General of the Armies of
Light, who had been nervous about the defenses all this time, had finally put
her swords up and was joining in the revelry.

"I said," Lesmos replied loudly, "there are a few still marching, but
dreamwalkers report they are apparently mindless, and weak besides. Easily
slain, like zombies without puppetmasters. We can practically send out a few
novices to dispatch what remains of the mighty armies of Magnagora and
Glomdoring." He smirked, then smiled broadly, resting his hand gently on the
Archmage's shoulder.

She looked up in surprise at the gentle, unexpected touch, and returned his
smile. "We did it," she said to him warmly. "We did it."

"We did," he said, and leaned in, perhaps to kiss her, but his movement was
interrupted somehow. He slumped heavily into her arms, almost too heavily for
her aged frame to support.

She stumbled back a step, uncertainly. "Lesmos?" she asked, as he began to
slide out of her grip to her feet, an arrow fletched with brightly-colored
feathers rising out of his back. Over his slumping form, she could see scores
of her citymates falling, and with horror realized that the sounds of cheering
had changed, unnoticed by her, to wails of pain. There, storming the
now-undefended ramparts of the city walls, dozens of Serenguard archers raining
arrows by the score into the defenseless crowd. Under the glowering clouds,
sparkling forests rising up, with that silverish ethereal tinge to their
translucent green, wending their way down streets and into buildings; and
somehow, though still almost ghostly, the trees gripping the streets, their
roots twisting and tearing, sundering stone, urged on by scores of Hartstone
warriors. Buildings collapsing, walls teetering dangerously; the very city
being consumed by trees that weren't even there. Swarming down the streets, a
horde of shining fae, mischievously dancing over the carnage, tickling people,
stealing loose stones and brightly-colored bits of detritus, Moondancers
trailing behind them as gravely serious as their fae were incongruously merry.
Swordsman wading into the very Pool, now empty, to corral surrendering cityfolk
into a tidy group, safe from the archers and the collapsing stones. Everywhere
she looked, New Celest was in ruins.

With a heavy sigh, she spoke one last time. "Water Rising", she said. "Water
Falling." She let the lifeless body of the Prince fall from her grasp and
dropped her staff, then walked woodenly towards the remaining survivors, no
longer even caring whether an arrow would steal her life before she was given a
chance to surrender. "This day will never be forgotten so long as New Celest
stands."