Chapter Text
The day had started calmly enough.
The Mighty Nein had camped out for the night just off the road and into the woods, and the pale grey light of first dawn had just begun to filter through the gaps between the newly sprouted leaves of the early spring. They had been travelling uneventfully for the past few days, and with a good few more days left in their journey, Caleb found himself falling into a comfortable, familiar rhythm with the rest of his friends as Frumpkin dozed at his side.
Nott was leaning up against the small of his back, as she often liked to in the mornings. He could feel her fiddling with something-- either her components or her kits, he wasn’t quite sure, but whatever it was it seemed to be giving her a hard time, based on her grunts and hisses of frustration. Jester was sitting just a ways off in prayer. Though Caleb had never been a religious man, to his ears it felt less like prayer and much more like gossip. How she managed to actually prepare spells through her impromptu chitchats with the Traveler, he’d never know. Perhaps he should ask her some day.
Beauregard and Yasha were running through morning exercises, shaking the sleepiness from their bodies, though Beauregard seemed to be far more interested in showing off for Yasha than stretching. Yasha, as always, seemed oh so slightly off-footed by Beauregard’s efforts, but not terribly unappreciative, either. Caduceus and Fjord were finishing up breaking down their campsite, with Caduceus saying something with a lazy smile, as he brushed dirt over their campfire and tapped the earth with his staff. Whatever it was he said, Fjord’s only reply was a dumbfounded expression as he paused from saddling up the horses to stare at Caduceus.
And it was… so nice.
It was almost frightening, how disarmed he felt. But, when he was with the others like this, Caleb found himself feeling strangely at ease. It was a delicate, fragile sense of ease that could do little to hold back roiling pit of tar-pitch emotion he carried with him on the bad days, but it was there, for however fleeting of a time. The ghost of a smile graced his face, as he surveyed their campsite. Even if it was fleeting, he allowed himself to enjoy it.
This particular morning, he had been trying to study the Beacon a little before he drew power from it. They still knew very little about the artifact in the months they had traveled with it, which was bordering on irresponsible at this point. When they had first gotten their hands on it, he had assumed that they would soon find out more about their little curio, but in the months since the artifact remained as infuriatingly obtuse as ever.
It certainly didn’t help that his personal experiences with it always served to refresh his interest with the object. There were many strange things about the Beacon, especially how in the right occasions, just for a moment, it could make time come undone .
It wasn’t much. It didn’t always happen, and when it did, it was only for the briefest of moments. Half seconds unspooled and twisted to his favor, but it was the closest thing he had ever come to a lead.
Recently, he had become curious in how the dodecahedron interacted with external magical input. Identify failed to work on the artifact as it normally would, so naturally he had to wonder if other spells would have curious interactions with the Beacon. Spells he learned to twist time, or spells that make use of pure arcane energy such as Magic Missile.
He picked up the Beacon by it’s handles, and for a moment, considered trying to push some of his own magic inside of it. Poke the artifact with something more potent than his concentration. For a moment. Just once.
However, as he gazed into the grey face of the beacon, and watched the gentle rhythmic glow of whatever power it held pulse on indifferently to him, he swallowed thickly, and placed it back down. He shot a sheepish glance around him, but none of his friends seemed to pay him any mind.
Whatever the Beacon was, haphazardly throwing spells at it could easily lead to his undoing. That, Caleb could see all too clearly.
A small burble of nervous laughter eked out of his throat, which he covered with a cough. With one hand, he poked at one of the smooth pentagonal faces of the Beacon. It felt just a tad bit warm, and Caleb could swear the dully grey light it gave off got just a fraction brighter.
Whatever the beacon was, he reasoned that he shouldn’t try anything too invasive with it until they had a better idea of what it was capable of.
“You know,” Jester’s voice said, inches from his ear, startling him from his thoughts. She was squatting down next to him, giving him a look absolutely jam-packed with Jester brand inquisitive scruples. “That’s not how you showed me how to do it.”
She gestured vaguely at the beacon, his finger still poking it. Caleb ducked his head, letting his hand drop down.
“No,” He sighed, “I was just… thinking. About how we still know next to nothing about this, even though it’s been our possession for so long.”
Jester quirked her head to the side, her expression somehow puppy-like and alarmingly sharp at the same time as her eyes flicked away from him and to the beacon.
“That thing is weird.” She decided sagely, “Like, its cool and stuff, and you could probably get into some crazy shit with it, but I think it could get you into some crazy shit too, you know?”
“Well, considering the circumstances where it fell into our hands…” Caleb shrugged. “Yes?”
“Well, yeah, but I mean, like, even crazier stuff than that!”Jester beamed, shimmying closer as she knelt down, her voice dropping to as close to a whisper as Caleb has heard from her, “Like, what if we used it right after we got it to put the little node thingy back into it, and we keep doing that so we can like, put a whole bunch of them in there until we need to be really lucky? Like a lucky little treasure chest.”
“I do not think it works like that, Jester.” Caleb said as he covered his smile with his hand, trying to not look as terribly fond as he was feeling.
Jester squinted at him. “Have you tried ?”
“Well, no, but I would guess that the beacon is rather like your pearl.” Caleb explained as he picked up the beacon by it’s handles once more. “You can take power out of it, but not put it back in.”
Jester seemed to consider this for a moment, her tail swaying from side to side. Caleb closed his eyes, taking a moment to push his focus in towards the beacon.
That lasted for about three seconds.
“Oh for the love of--!” Nott snarled from behind him, before spitting out a familiar string of curses in goblin. He felt her presence on his back shift and then disappear. He cast a glance over his shoulder, watching Nott stomp away towards the cart.
“Is everything alright Nott?” He called out leaning back to get a better look at her.
“I’m Fine! Fine!” She said in a huff, “I just left my vials of sealant in the cart. I’ll just finish it over there…” Her voice trailed off into more Goblin cursing.
Caleb did not bother to try to hide how fond he was feeling.
“Well,” Jester piped back up, “I dunno, I bet that if it was like my pearl The Traveler would have said something about it. Besides, we could like, run a gambling den bankrupt or something with that much luck. I wouldn’t have to worry about getting diamonds every again, and then you could buy a fancier coat, some new shoes, and enough paper and ink you’ll never need to buy any more again!”
Caleb’s expression curdled. “My coat is fine the way--” He blinked, his expression clearing. “Wait. You asked your Traveler about the Beacon?”
“Well, duh.” Jester rolled her eyes. “I talk to The Traveler about like basically everything. I showed it to him a few months ago.”
Caleb blinked several times. “And… he talked to you about it?”
“Well like,” Jester half shrugged, “He told me that it was really cool and interesting, and stuff, like how he’d never seen anything like it before, and that I could probably get into some pretty crazy shit with it, and to hold onto it, and--”
“Never seen anything like it before?” Caleb frowned, casting a lasting glance at the increasingly inscrutable beacon.
“Yep.” Jester grinned, “He seemed pretty excited about it too. I figure he’s probably seen so much he doesn’t get to see new shit all too often.”
Caleb was far from a religious man. He didn’t understand the nature of Jester’s connection with her god, but the holy magic she could access surely spoke something of the Traveler’s legitimacy. He had been assuming that the reason the Beacon remained frustratingly obtuse was that it must have had some divine source behind it, but if a god, even one with few and far followers didn’t recognize the magic it held… What exactly was it?
He shook his head, suppressing a smile. When he got right down to it, Caleb could never quite fall out of love with magic, no matter how much it had burned him. The not knowing, well, that was all just part of the appeal.
“Well,” Caleb adjusted his grip along the handles of the beacon. “We should best listen to his advice and hold onto it then.”
“Caaaaleeeeb.” Jester leaned in, her expression downright devious before her voice dropped back to a conspiratorial whisper. “Try putting it back in.”
She stifled a giggle. Caleb gave her a dry look, before closing his eyes to try to meditate on the Beacon once more.
The now familiar landscape of the starry void that came with meditating on the beacon somehow seemed equally more familiar and strange every time he found himself lost in it’s expanse. A kaleidoscope of versions of himself all drifting in the same void. The strange mote of light-- of possibility -- that was at its core. If not arcane, and not divine, then what was the beacon, really?
He glanced around the vast space, at the other Calebs, and the motes of light in the far off distance. He wondered, were they truly other versions of himself? Or just a small trick of the mind that the Beacon liked to play?
Whatever the truth was, he embraced the possibility, opened his eyes, and watched an arrow sink into his chest.
Oh. He thought, watching sparks dance along the shaft of the arrow. That is not good.
Everything seemed to slow down and happen in simple steps.
First, he saw the shaft of the arrow swell, the wood splintering into ashes as a bright blue energy-- lighting-- subsumed it’s form. The tingle that nested in his chest seemed to imply to him that the entire arrow was being transformed into an active bolt of lightning while halfway puncturing his lung.
Ah, yes, there was the pain. Like someone had planted a wasp’s nest in his chest, shook it very hard, and then kicked him in the chest for good measure. The taste of smoke filled his mouth, and suddenly, with blurry vision, he was staring up at the sky. He felt like he was spinning. Like he was about to vomit up… everything he would prefer stay inside of his body.
He could hear Jester screaming his name. Blackness eating at the corner of his vision. Whatever this was, he could tell that it was a very serious injury.
So Caleb, half still unsure of what was happening, called upon the mote of possibility.
And for a moment, everything was still, a black void filled with stars.
His eyes blinked open, staring down at the beacon, as time reasserted itself from being undone, and jerked the Beacon up to his chest, and watched the arrow make contact.
Oh. He thought, watching the arrow’s shaft bend as it made contact, the harsh blue light already peaking out where the wood was beginning to splinter. That is not good.
Everything seemed to speed up and get complicated fast.
The pain was more immediate this time around, like the muscles in his arms had been pulled impossibly tight and fallen asleep at the same time. The scent of ozone filled the air and his vision crackled with bright blue light, but he grit his teeth, and dealt with it.
“Caleb!” Jester shouted. He ignored her.
Caleb stared at the beacon, as the once small pulse of dull grey light was rapidly increasing in brightness. Sparks danced along its surface in arcs. It took him a moment to tear his eyes away, but as he did, glancing up in the direction the arrow came from, he could just barely see a figure among the wood.
He could hear the others shouting from behind him, the stomping of feet on solid ground. Jester, already on her feet, grabbed him by the arm, tugging him upwards. Nott yelling.
Beacon still in his hands, he began to stand up. Under his breath he begins to mutter a few arcane words to cast Dimension Door so Jester and him could get out of the line of fire, and he could feel magic begin to twist around him.
“We are under atta--!” He started to yell, but was cut short when sparks flared from the beacon, now glowing white-hot. The arcs of energy had taken to now spinning around the beacon in a horrifying vortex of light, and from the center of the beacon a ring of black--just like a Dimension Door -- began to cascade out, bringing with it the harsh and ceaseless sound of a bell being rung, but with the pitch ever increasing until his ears ached and his head rattled and it was all too much and all he could see was scouring, impossible, light.
And then everything went, as the air was vacuumed from his lungs and it felt like he had been pushed back, the beacon slipping from his fingers, and for a moment, everything was still, a black void filled with stars.
In retrospect, Caleb would realize that the fall had taken far too long for someone who was only halfway standing.
He hit the ground sputtering with coughs. His head felt like it was spinning again, and everything felt like it was still too much , but he needed to get up. He could hear Jester coughing beside him.
“Jester we have to--” Caleb started to say, his voice hoarse, but his words died in his throat. As he forced himself to get up off the ground and open his eyes he found that everything was… alarmingly different.
The ground was hard. Like caked in gravel against his fingertips as opposed to the dewy grass for the morning light. The forest clearing around them had disappeared, and instead they found themselves lying in an alley caught between two massive brick walls, with ropes dangling and crisscrossing above their heads, running along the buildings as they rose up no less than three stories above him. The air felt tinny and acrid-- almost like The Iron Lot in Hupperdook, but less thick, and instead filled with a subtle electricity.
Or perhaps he was still mildly electrocuted. His teeth felt like they were vibrating in his skull.
Caleb was frozen, halfway still pushing up off the ground, looking about wildly at their new scenery, trying to understand what had just occurred only for his racing, disparate thoughts to slip thought his hands uselessly. He tried to say something. What came out of his mouth was a very intelligent-sounding cross between choking and gasping.
Beside him he heard Jester huff and give herself a shake. She said something in infernal that Caleb didn’t understand, and then gasped.
“Caleb!” She grabbed him by the arm once more, shuffling closer, “Oh my gosh, Let me--”
She stiffened. Caleb couldn’t quite see her, but he imagined that she was looking around.
“Um... Caleb?”
“J-” Caleb sucked in a shaky breath, his throat feeling very dry. “Jester.”
The noise hit him quite suddenly. It was like Zadash at midday, but worse. The mutter of people talking. There was this strange continuous whooshing-hum sound, not quite like the wind that seemed to carry through the air from all directions. A whining beeping noise droned on for a moment before fading, while a piercing siren cry that reminded him of his Alarm but with strange brassy undertones. Whistles, shouting, laughter, beeping, clattering and all of it all at once without a single break or hesitation.
He felt dizzy. The world felt messy and strange. His teeth were still fucking vibrating, and his hands were tingling, and numb, and hot, and not helping-- Useless.
“Where are we? And… where are the others?”
“I.. I do not…”
A familiar weight suddenly appeared on his shoulder. A bush of fur along his neck. He blinked. The world became a bit less messy. For a moment. The noise not quite so loud as Frumpkin’s not-quite-voice mental link reached out to him.
This place is loud and strange , Frumpkin asserted, seeming ruffled, Most Unfamiliar to us. We dislike lightning much more than we already did now. Singed Fur.
Tension spilled out of Caleb at the all too important contact. Good Cat. Best Cat .
Caleb took in a steadying breath.
“I do not know either of those things.” He said quietly, pushing himself up, Jester offering a much appreciated but not necessary steadying hand. “Neither does Frumpkin. Perhaps… it is an illusion of sorts?”
Caleb will be the first person to say that he had never heard nor read of an illusion capable of making something so complex, but…
No illusions , Frumpkin trilled, An unfamiliar transposition. A door opened at an apogee.
“It sorta reminds me of Hupperdook, but like, way taller” Jester mused, glancing around, her gaze lingering at the silhouettes of people passing by at the end of the alleyway, and then stared at Caleb meaningfully, “If it’s an illusion I could probably break it. I’m really good at fucking up other people’s magic, here, let me just--”
Jester brushed her hand against her holy symbol, saying a quick prayer to the Traveler, and in a sweeping motion, a gentle wave of energy pulsed out from her, as she cast Dispel Magic . A errant gust of wind kicked up as the spell tried to untangle any arcane knots in the weave.
Nothing happened.
“I don’t think this is an illusion.” She hummed thoughtfully.
“ Ja. Neither do I.” Caleb supplied, and Frumpkin mentally offered him the impression of an eye roll. Caleb ignored him. “I think--”
Caleb flinched into silence as a cacophonous clattering noise cut him off from behind.
“Shitfuck!”
And a familiar voice.
Caleb turned to see Beauregard halfway stumbling back to her feet, a tin waste bin still settling on the ground as bags of trash spilled out of it into the alley, one of them tearing as it caught between the bin and the ground.
“Piece of shit,” she hissed at the waste bin, giving it a kick for good measure, and then stiffening. She glanced up, stared at Caleb for not but a second, and immediately righted herself, crossing her arms, her expression forced into a faux-casual neutral. “Hey.” She nodded. “‘Sup.”
“Beau!” Jester exclaimed, taking a half step towards Beau, stopping short just in front of Caleb. Caleb rubbed a hand across his face, frustration seeping in. The pounding noise of this place beat on the back of his skull in ever-increasing frequency.
“Beauregard, please, would you--” He stopped short. He gave Beau a quick once-over, frowned, and quirked his head to the side. “Why are you dressed like a butcher?”
Beauregard was wearing an apron, spattered with various stains of grease and blood. Underneath, she was wearing… black a shirt with sleeves. Caleb had seen Beau wearing sleeves before, but that was only in the dead of winter, and she never seemed quite happy about it. Certainly not her attire for a temperate spring day. On top of that she seemed… oddly keyed up, like how she sometimes would be after a hard-fought battle, frayed around the edges and a bit wide eyed.
“Uh, I work at the Deli?” Beau raised an eyebrow and gestured dismissively at the wall beside her. From the corner of her mouth, a grin tugged at her face, looking like a cat who just caught the canary. “But, if we’re playing twenty questions, then how ‘bout you tell me what all that was about?”
Jester turned back to face him, her expression puzzled, and her arms tucked in close.
“With the bright light the two of you just showed up out of.” Beau clarified, taking a step forward in a way that felt almost accusatory, “And then with her just going whoosh, ” Beau mimicked the motion Jester made as she cast Dispel Magic . “And, crazy thing, everything got really windy for just a second afterward. What’s that about?”
Jester exchanged another uncertain glance with Caleb. Caleb could see the growing shine of concern in her eyes.
Caleb just stared at Beau, his mouth open just a crack. A soft rumbling in the distance caught his attention, littered with clattering sounds that hit his ears like pinpricks.
“Beau, c’mon,” She said with an exaggerated sigh, “You must have seen me cast Dispel Magic , at least a hundred times by now--”
“Wait,” Beau said, leaning back like she wanted to step away, a dawning horror flickering on her face for just an instant. “How do you--” He eyes flicked to Caleb. “And you called me Beauregard, Oh my fuck.”
The rumble continued to grow as Beauregard stared at him, the clattering getting louder until it felt like a hammer tapping at the back of his skull. Caleb felt frozen.
“Beau you’re kinda freaking me out.” Jester spoke, Caleb dully recognizing the threads of insecurity that had found their way into her voice, but the realization slipped through his hands like water.
Caleb’s mind was elsewhere. On the banging on the back of his head. The electricity of the air, and the vibration of his teeth in his mouth. Beau said something. Caleb missed it. On the look on Beau’s eyes, the excitement and the horror and the unfamiliarity glinting in her gaze. Jester said something. He missed it. Idly he recognized the smell of smoke-- burnt furs. His hands were still prickly with electricity from when he blocked the body blow with the--
“The beacon.” Caleb breathed out, as the world trembled back into focus and the roar and clatter of this place began to die away. Frumpkin chirped in his ear in affirmation. He glances around his feet, up and down the alley, but he doesn’t see the beacon anywhere in sight, just the dingy, odd stone streets, garbage bins and sewer grates. “The beacon… Jester!”
“What?!” Jester turned to him in a huff, bluer in the face than usual, her tail lashing back and forth. Beau looked completely off-footed, and Caleb realized she had actually taken a step back from the two of them.
Caleb winced. “Please tell me you grabbed the beacon while I was not looking.”
“No.” Jester said slowly, her shoulders settling down.
“ scheiße” Caleb hissed, his mind racing to almost a blur, he snapped his finger impatiently, willing the words out of his mouth, “Do you have, ah, Locate Object prepared?”
“Yes?”
“Cast it now, please?”
Jester nodded, clutching her holy symbol and muttering a quick payer with a flourish, closing her eyes. Almost immediately, her face twitched in disappointment. She clicked her teeth together in a way that looked like she was trying hard not to frown, offering Caleb an apologetic look before she said: “Nothing.”
“Gods, verdammt .” Caleb spit, and ran a hand roughly through his hair-- which was met with the fresh, burning hot pain raking along the palm of his hand, like a hundred heated needles were stabbing into his flesh. He choked back the cry of pain that pushed up from his throat, jerking his hand away, only to see the blistered, cracked palm of his hand flushed an angry red color. He sucked in a shaky breath of air, grimacing as he realized his other hand was in a similar state.
“Caleb!” Jester gasped, and quickly jumped right into Caleb’s personal space to get a good look at his hands. Caleb Wrenched his eyes shut to stop himself from flinching. Jester grumbled something in infernal. “I should have realized, you blocked a friggin’ Lightning bolt with your bare hands, of course they’d be all messed up. Here, let me--”
Jester made a move to grab for his hands, and Caleb jerked away. Jester blinked at him, before she puffed out her cheeks and leveled her surprise into a glare. Caleb felt himself flush. He hadn’t… quite meant to do that.
“I…” Caleb started, swallowing the uncomfortable weight of shame in his throat. A siren began to ring in the distance and shivers ran laps along his spine, freezing him. “Jester I will be fine. That is not necessary for you to do.”
“Caleb,” Jester said warningly, “Your hands are all messed up. Electricity burns can be very serious and hurt a lot, and casting stuff with your hands like that would suck. So, let me see your hands so I can at least heal them up a little .”
Caleb still felt frozen, a static layering around his head, and the muscles in his neck refusing to untense. After a few moments passed, Jester’s expression softened, and she tacked on, painfully genuine sounding, “Please?”
The world uncoiled it’s hold on him, and not quite able to meet her eye, he put his hands forward. Instead he looked at Beau, watching her, in an alternation of confused horror and mild awe, mouth ‘caught lightning?’.
Jester stepped back into his bubble, far more steady this time, and mumbled a prayer as she gently took his hands in her own. Instead of pain, a gentle wave of force ghosted over his hands, extending warmly along his arms until the barest wisp of energy folded itself behind his back.
Jester’s healing, Caleb noted, always seemed to feel like a hug. He always wondered if that was intentional on her part. It was strangely calming.
“Besides,” Jester said, her tone back to excitedly cheerful, “that was like, incredibly cool the way you just-- Pulled up the Beacon, like ‘Not today Motherfuckers!’ and blocked that lightning bolt! It was like watching Beau grab arrows, except like, kinda more impressive since you’re usually all shrimpy and stuff.” Her voice dropped down conspiratorially, “Have you been working out while no one was looking?”
“It will be very cool when we find the beacon I used to take a lightning arrow for me.” He said, offering a weak half chuckle. He pulled his hands away from Jester. They still stung just a bit, but the blisters had faded and the redness reduced to a point it barely looked like rope burn. “ Dankeschön … and yes.”
Jester’s eyes lit up with mischief.
“You know,” Beau said, projecting her voice out loudly. Caleb’s eyes shifted back to her, looking like she was starting to find her footing once again, directing a suspicious glare their way “I’m starting to get the impression that the two of you don’t know what the fuck’s going on either.”
A silence-- Well, not a silence. There was a ever-present clatter and clamor in this place, of rushing, swooshing, buzzing, beeping and chattering that furiously denied Caleb the small mercy of an awkward silence. In the not-really-silence, a rat scurried along in the alley. Frumpkin remained nonplussed.
“Wow,” Jester said, “you must really not remember us.”
“ Ja , Beauregard would know more than anyone we’re idiots who have no idea what we’re doing, most of the time.”
Beau narrowed her eyes at him dangerously. “That sounded a lot like a ‘fuckin insult.”
“I mean, she acts like Beau.” Jester hummed, “She even does that little crinkle thing on her forehead when she’s pissed.”
“The--” Beau’s hand motioned towards her forehead, but she shook the motions off, with a snarl. “Ugh! Look, that shit you just did, with the light, and just showing up , the wind, and you just healed a burn-- which even I could tell was nasty-- but touching it. All that. It’s magic isn’t it?”
Jester and Caleb shared another confused look. Jester shrugged at him. Caleb blinked several times.
“I mean, er...” He said, “Yes? What else would it be?”
Beau scrutinized Caleb for a few long (but not silent ) seconds, before she pursed her lips, and started nodding.
“Okay,” She said, took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and whispered. “Fuck. Okay, Fuck!”
“Beau are you alright?” Jester asked, all earnesty, and the look Beau shot back was downright thunderous. “You look like you’re about to throw up, like ‘bluh’.”
“Two randos just popped into the back alley behind my work, apparently know my name, act like they know me, start just casting some magic spells in broad daylight, and are acting like I’m the one being weird.” She jerked a hand up in a strained thumbs up and directed a deeply insincere approximation of a smile in their direction. “So yeah. Just fucking peachy!”
Beau failed to hold the expression for long, opting to crouch down on the ground, her hands laced together and pressed up against her forehead, breathing deeply.
Ah, Caleb knew that look. It reminded him that he was also having a bit of a crisis right now.
“Do you think someone did something to her?” Jester said, taking a half step forward in a way reminiscent of how one might approach a wounded animal. “Or to her memory?”
Beau barked out a sharp, joyless laugh, they gave her a moment, but she did not seem to want to explain. After a few moments of the not-silence, Caleb forced words out of his mouth to cover up the clamor.
“There are,” He started, shakily, his mouth filling with the taste of ash, “Spells which can bring a, uh, change to a person’s memory. But.. I do not believe there is any way to make someone forget an entire person, let alone two. Much less could that be done while also doing…” He gestured vaguely around himself “This.”
Caleb had never quite learned what Trent had done to him, only that it had been done. He couldn’t be sure, but there must have been a reason that Trent had only added in a relatively small piece of memory into his mind. The spell had to have limits, even for a man of Trent Ikathon’s calibre.
Jester glanced around furtively. “And what’s... this?”
“That is the question, ja? ”
“I could ask the Traveler,” Jester offered, “He’s not always super quick to talk back, but if anyone would know what’s going on, I’m sure it’s him!”
“Couldn’t possibly hurt,” Caleb winced, as he sunk down to the ground to sit. Frumpkin took the opportunity to jump into his lap. Caleb immediately began carding his hands through Frumpkin’s fur. He needed to think. About everything that had happened. Perhaps if he retraced his steps he could figure out what happened, or where the Beacon could have gone. He had always been good at that.
With… considerable difficulty, no thanks to the ambient clamor, he mentally retraced the events of the morning. Being woken up by Nott shifting an elbow into his gut. Spending a few minutes staring blankly at the walls of his magical hut. Eating some strange-looking, but somehow pleasantly mild food that Caduceus had thrown together. Pouring over his spellbook to prepare for the day. Collapsing the hut as the others grew eager to hit the road, and deciding last minute to meditate on the Beacon, seeing as it was his turn. Contemplating about experimenting with the beacon before he drew power from it. Talking with jester about what the Traveler had told her about the beacon. Watching as he was attacked, once successfully, once blocked by the beacon. Watching the beacon glow. Casting Dimension Door . Light, and then here.
The Beacon.
It had to have a role in this situation. Aside from their attackers, it was the only truly uncertain factor in this equation-- and Caleb knew even less about their attackers than he did about the beacon.
Something had happened to the beacon when it was hit by that spell, or perhaps when he had cast Dimension Door, or both. Perhaps something had… overloaded it. Caused whatever magic inside of it to discharge. Caleb had always felt like they were barely scratching the surface with the beacon-- between what Thuron had told them about it, alongside Caleb’s personal meditation on the Beacon, there was doubtlessly something more to it than what they had been able to to do. From the countless measures of threads, endlessly diverging into ghostly pathways, and the infinitely numerous versions of… himself…
All slightly different, moving off in different directions…
A horrid sinking feeling found it’s way into his gut, as he glanced at Beau, who was still crouched on the ground. Her breathing had steadied out, and her hands still laced together, but she now she was lightly messaging the corner of her eyes with her thumbs, like she was focusing. Different memories. Different Job. Different clothes.
Caleb’s mouth suddenly felt very dry. It was… ludicrous that he was even considering but, the possibility was there , and, well, he was a little low on alternative theories.
“Jester,” Caleb croaked, “do you have Sending prepared?”
She opened an eye at him, stopping mid-prayer. Then both of her eyes opened wide and she beamed.
“Oh! I do! I’ll use it to try to see where the others--”
“Ah, Jester, no, uh,” Caleb rose back up to his feet, transferring Frumpkin into his arms, feeling strangely nervous. “I was hoping you would help me put a foolish theory to bed? If that is alright, but I was hoping you could try to contact Beauregard.”
“What.” Beau deadpanned, her head snapping back up to stare. “You’re going to do what to me?”
“Ah, no, no,” Caleb dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “Not you.”
“What do you mean, Caleb?” Jester asked, quirking her head to the side. “What other Beau is there?”
“I mean, can you use Sending , and send a message specifically to Beauregard as you remember her from this morning. Not this one right here.”
Jester gave him a odd look, but to her credit, glanced upward and bit her lip like she was considering it.
“I mean, I can try?” She shrugged slightly, casting a glance at Beau, and covered her mouth with a suspicious squint.
For a moment, Caleb could hear her starting to mumble, but almost immediately, she jolts like she’d been shocked, and her eyes went wide before they twisted in confusion.
“It… it didn’t work.”
Caleb’s stomach plummeted, and he could tell it was all over his face from the way Jester tensed in response.”
Caleb is unfamiliar with the arcane or divine mechanics of Sending, but he understands the magical formula of Message well enough to know that intent matters. Sending is functionally no different than Message in what it does, just on a much larger scale than Message is capable of.
“Cast it on her,” Caleb snapped, flicking a had in Beau’s direction.
“Woah, hey!” Beau started to object, and jumped back to her feet, taking a quick step back.
“Caleb, what is going on?”
“Jester please , just-- Humor me.”
Jester huffed. He could see the gears turning in hear head, and the concern spilling out at the edges of her face. She gave him a sidelong glance, this time turning around entirely away from Beau as she began to cast the spell and--
“Ah!” Beau jumped, and Caleb watched as her eyes darted around wildly before zeroing in on Jester. Under her breath he can see her mutter, “What the fuck.”
Caleb’s chest feels tight, and his gut feels like it’s turned to stone. He watched as Jester’s shoulder lock and her make the motions for casting Sending one more time, and she jolts just like before.
Jester spun on her heel, looking uncomfortable and panicked in a way that was unsuitable to her. “Caleb, what’s happening? Sending isn’t working! I mean it worked the second time, but then I just tried to use it for Fjord and it was just ‘ Zap ! Nope, nobody here’ and then poof, done, that’s it. I don’t understand, the Traveler told me I could use it to talk to someone at the bottom of the nine hells if I wanted to, it should always work.”
Distantly, Caleb realized that Beau echoed Fjord’s name under her breath for some reason, which somehow only served the add the growing absurdity of the situation. He felt like he was in a freefall.
So he laughed.
It was a strained, wheezy, humorless laugh, but he found himself unable to force it down as he stared back at Jester, shaking his head.
“Caleb you’re really freaking me out,” Jester said, taking a cautious step towards him. He could tell she wanted to reach out to touch him, steady him, but also understood that would likely be unwelcome.
“Yeah, uh, Seconded.” Beau agreed.
He held up a hand, as if to say, ‘give me minute’, and Frumpkin took the opportunity to hop back on his shoulders, even as they shook with laughter. A moment passed and the laughter bubbling from his chest subsided as he rubbed a hand down his face, his head feeling light and a horrible despair pooled in his gut.
“It is not working,” Caleb said, his voice pulled tight, manic and hushed, “because that is not our Beauregard.”
He sees Jester and Beau exchange a look of confusion. He does not blame either of them, because this doesn’t make sense . Caleb isn’t sure if he should feel elated or crushed. He settles on both as he comes to realize that whatever it is, it is all his fault. It’s everything he could have hoped the Beacon was capable of but applied all wrong, and it might just have ruined him.
“In fact,” He swallowed thickly, “I do not think we are in our world-- our reality , anymore.”
Jester’s eyes widened, shifting around her, but she doesn’t speak.
“I believe it is possible that, uh, when we were attacked, and the Beacon was hit with that spell, it became… damaged, or overcharged, or something , and then I… I cast Dimension Door , and whatever magic that dwells within the Beacon jumped to my spell, and changed it. Made it so that we did not go to a different physical location, but to a different possibility. All of those versions of yourself that you can see in the beacon, each one a different possible you with their own reality where infinitely many people have made infinitely many choices, either differently or the same.”
Even as the words came out of his mouth he felt a stab of self-doubt, that he was just losing it all over again. It definitely sounded like the ravings of a madman, and as Jester sucked in a breath of air, he braced himself for her to blast his theory apart for the utter nonsense it was. A part of him wished she would.
But she doesn’t. Instead, she took another step closer, comprehension dawning on her face.
“So what you’re saying is…?” She motioned for him to keep going, a twinkle in her eye.
Caleb paused for just a second to take a deep breath, because she did not seem keen to call him wrong at the moment, and he was not sure if that was a good thing or not.
“Jester, I think we may have been shot put across reality with such force that we, ah... landed in a different one entirely.”
“Oh my gods,” She said, a wicked grin stretching across her face as she glanced around with a renewed fervor, “This is the coolest shit ever! ”
Ah, well. Mad leading the mad, he supposed.
Beau gave him a look, crossing her arms and glaring like he has just vomited in place of talking. He could feel her scrutiny burning a near-fatal hole in his head.
Well… some things seemed to stay the same, at least.