Demon’s Dance – 1 – Evolving
The hunt itself was always a mixed bag for the Demon. In many ways, the simplicity of stalking a prey until it was secluded and vulnerable had lost its thrill. Sure, it was the only way for her to become fully energized. Flesh and blood were the only sustenance that her kind needed, and that of sentient creatures was all the more powerful. Yet, she did not feel like hunting today. Though she was quite hungry, she knew there were more than one way to satisfy such cravings. After a long century of war, she needed a break from blood and gore. She had lived, contained in the new visage of Larren the Bold, whose species did violence as a matter of calculation rather than passion. Tedious, and boring, were such affairs, and not an experience she would return to.
So today, she was on vacation. Who knew how long it would last? Certainly not her. In many ways, this was the point.
So her form compressed, shimmering between dimensions. From that elevated state she entered the material, and was once again human. She allowed her impressive form to collapse within, to shrink and condense, until all that remained were two legs, two arms, a head, and an abdomen. She had refined this shape over many centuries when visiting humanity, even from the early days of their nomadic wandering. Though she did not see it as particularly alluring, the effect it had on the men of this species was without question.
One of her favorite parts of humans was their passion. It made them so much sweeter and delicious. Not unique, surely, but most plentiful compared to others.
She walked alone among the evening crowds of this sandy city. She had garbed herself in the colorful silks of the local population. The last she had been here, the place had burned only with oil, but now there were posts with bright, shining glass containing a bolt of hexile. Glass had been sparse then, only reserved for the rich, and now it clad each home and business, lined the strees. A city had arisen here and she wondered just how long it had been since her last visit.
Her mind drifted. Humans were progressing. Hexile had been a terrifying phenomenon to the humans last she had been to this place, but now it was bound within glass. It should have given her pause, but she felt no fear of their ability to contain her. As she looked around, she giggled as she knew that it would take a thousand of these cities to contain her true self.
But her humor faded. She sighed, looking upon the progress of mankind, and remembered Larren and his people, the Rynaris. Different in many ways, they took had learned to bind hexile and, with its power contained, made conquered their worlds against all other species. She knew of others who had even used it to find their way among the Grey Ocean, though she herself would not go to these species even if her influence saturated their behavior. Again she sighed. Perhaps soon, or maybe after thousands and thousands of years, Humans too would become altogether too civilized. Civilized and boring and doing violence like mathematics as the Rynaris did.
The Demon began to worry that they might lose any semblance of passion and spontaneity.
A man bumped into her shoulder, disturbing her thoughts and causing her to stumble. She reveled in the weakness she felt, the power of the man who had jostled her, the tension of violence just beneath a simple touch. He stopped and turned to her, hands coming to her elbow to offer her assistance in her balance. Though she didn’t need it, she allowed the man to help steady her, violence fading.
“Apologies. I did not see you…” Once his eyes settled on her face, his words cut short. He grasped for more, but words did not come. The demon’s belly warmed as it was obvious her trap had already sprung on this man.
She nodded meekly, looking down. “It is no trouble, sir. Please, do not think twice of it.” She ran a hand along the hem of her robes, and though she revealed nothing of her body, the man tensed up. She then ran a hand across her cheek, pushing aside the yellowed lock of hair that had fallen into her face.
The man stared for a moment with wide eyes. Another man turned to him, hit him on the chest. “We have to go, Garand.”
The man, Garand, nodded absentmindedly. He could not look away from her. “Perhaps I can see you again?”
She smiled, knowing the snare was set. She nodded, pointing to a tavern nearby. “I will be there this evening. Come. Visit me.”
The man began to walk with his friend, unable to look away from her. He nodded his agreement, and she repressed a laugh when he did not look away from her until he was out of sight.
She felt a vibration run through her, the enradiance she possessed flaring to life in hunger. Part of her wished to consume this man to the bone, but she was on vacation, so it was not blood she sought.
*********************
There was a suppleness to the leather that gave way beneath her fingers. Her hand gripped at it with abandon, nails sliding across the surface. Despite any newness to this encounter, it still revealed the same, well worn expectancy she was used to when coupling with a human.
Garand grunted, and despite his furious pace, she hoped that this might last longer. She sighed, breathed out in rhythm with him, but her mind wandered. It was nice being with Garand like this. He was attractive and stupid, her favorite combination. He was a man who did not ask questions because he did not care for answers. He cared to have a beautiful woman beneath him and a belly full of beer. Their coupling brought with it pleasures that, while minor, were still enjoyable. Yet, he possessed a certain dullness that left her… wanting. Her mouth began to water as she thought about returning to her usual way, but she had to push the thought back, reminding herself that she was on vacation. Images of Larren the Bold’s life flashed before her eyes, and she knew that she was done with blood for a long while.
He thrust once more, obviously finishing, and she frowned as she came back to the moment. She considered it rude not to ask permission, even to one such as herself, but knew that stupid men like Garand rarely stopped to think. After a moment of breathing heavy, he removed himself from her and came to lay beside her on the bed, his arm coming to rest behind her head.
“That was amazing. You are a true flame.” His eyes were closed, and as she looked him over, she realized that his eyes were closed both inside and out.
She slowly settled into his side, leaning her head on his shoulder. It was obvious this man would not be the one to give her the time she wanted in this realm. Upon closer examination, she realized that he was past his prime. Her deeper thoughts stirred. “I would ride this one to death, and far sooner than I wish.” She sighed, lifted up her hand to his chest and placed it over his sternum. Her sensitive fingers could feel the thundering of his heart beneath. Of everything she had felt of Garand thus far, this set her own heart pumping hard. She resisted the urge to lick her lips, but the familiar hunger swelled without care for her wishes.
Again, she sighed, sitting upright despite Garand’s protestations. “I think that I have to go.” She stood and walked to the small pile of clothing near the corner of the room. As she pulled on the pieces, she felt his eyes gazing at her.
“Will I see you again?” he asked. She smiled to herself. Attractive and stupid. She finished pulling her robe on, turning to look at him. She nodded meekly and then quickly exited the room. She hoped he would not question why it was her that was leaving and not him.
She slunk down the darkened hall beyond, passing doors one after another. Part of her wondered if there was something more alluring behind them, something that could satisfy more than Garand had. She found the stairwell, made her way to the street. She was walking quickly, enjoying the cold wind as it passed through the thin fabric of her purple robe. Garand’s essence burned within her, and though it was not the same as flesh and blood, it filled her with an ecstatic energy that was similar to feeding. She felt her enradiance swell, sated for the moment, knowing that it would last for a moderate time before being consumed, maybe a week in this realm.
Perhaps this is what the Demon liked about these humans and coupling with them, the fact that so much of their life essence was contained in something else than flesh and bone. If she was sated for a satisfactory length, she could always come back to Garand for more. Not so much if she had consumed him outright. The laughed at the thought with a human pettiness before realizing that this venture, in this form once more, had already lost its allure.
Despite this brief break, this vacation was already not satisfying her. Her previous visits as this form, Saya, had been filled with greater pleasures and powers and experiences than this. Already she felt that she would be returning to blood sooner than she thought. It was easier to hunt, was closer to that primal aspect of herself which was manifested across all reality. Yet… this previous visit to the world of the Rynaris had troubled her. It was a new sensation, and as she walked the cold streets, she found she yearned for the familiar lands of her home.
Perhaps it had been the wrong time to vacation. Though her pride rankled at the thought of such a need, maybe it was healing she truly sought.
As she made her way down the sidewalk, she began to breathe, deep inhalations which filled her lungs completely. She would exhale in a whoosh, then repeat, and despite her diminutive size, these inhales and exhales grew in volume. Wind began to stir around her, a whirlwind forming with each breath, and she felt the familiar Shimmer of the Ether sounding in the empty space. The image of the street around her began to flex and distort with her breathes, and soon she could see it beginning to tear apart from itself.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
The image shattered into many pieces, burning away like errant cinders. Beyond, the Reality she had always known presented itself.
The darkened, sandstone streets had been replaced with lush forest floor. The buildings, painted white and orange and yellow, were gone. In their place was the Everwood, her home.
She stretched out, allowing her body to release from its imagined facade. Her skin faded from the deep olive, turning pale first then darkening to a night-time black. Her wings extended outward, the veined membrane between the four skeletal fingers on each was stained purple and blue. Her secondary arms unfolded from the darkness of her side, and to her it was a blessed relief to unfurl them again. Her legs cracked and grew, no longer the leg of a woman but that of a mighty reptile. Her tail unfurled at the same time, spiked and barbed and dangerous.
Her hands reached up to her face, the only thing which yet still looked human. This facade, this illusion, this psyche she called Saya. Her own true name was not comprehensible in the languages of mortals, so she allowed them to call her Death. Of course, she was not the reaper of souls, that job was of far to great an importance to be left with someone like her.
But she did bring death, for she was the Great Demon of Violence.
As she remembered this, she pulled off the liars face, revealing the gentle mask of the Assembled. Placid, with two painted dots for eyes and a small, straight slit for a mouth, it did not betray the great danger of the one who wore it.
She stretched out, allowing her mind to unhinge from the grounded, materialistic sense of living humans. She could now feel the rivers of energy that flowed around her. In the way a human might feel wind, she felt the Arkuin as if it were a physical thing. Unlike wind, these currents were not mere manifestations of temperature differentials. These currents led to beings, each a long thread left behind in this world like a wake in water. One would follow the being to its current location, go to see where it was created, or even to see where it would die. In this timeless land, it was the only thing which could be used to measure duration. Even then, she smelled the strong, dark vine of her own strand, curling and coiling backwards into infinity.
As she took in the land, another one of these strands caught her attention, for it did not belong in this place. For a long moment, she analyzed her senses, realizing this to be a scent of the Material, and knew that this might be the thing to satisfy her. As far as she knew, she had never hunted a living creature within her realm.
The return to blood, it seemed, was now.
So her timeless travel of the Everwood began, where moments and duration ceased to have meaning and it was the poise of each step and the focus on each action that allowed one to travel. As if the woods were an audience that must be pleased before they allow you to pass, every turn of the head and angle of each finger would be a performance. Every motion must be pleasing to the trees, the soil, the roots, all of which bound the Everwood as a single being, in order to escape its clutch.
She placed her foot down slowly, angling it inward. Her other followed, heel meeting the soft soil sharply. Another step, this one toes first as she enjoyed the sense of the soil mingling with her claws. Her four hands would pose for a step, then pose for another, contorting at uncomfortable, difficult angles, wings following suit. It was an ethereal dance, a sacred movement, and one seemingly with no end or destination.
Onward she progressed at what a human might consider a frigid pace, but to her was a rapid, well practiced dance with the Everwood’s all seeing eye. She did not tire in this relentless, glacial dance. She did not falter. She was the Demon of Violence, of which dancing was her greatest strengths. The forest fluttered with ten thousand leaves applauding, a rasp in a gentle wind. The trees creaked their appreciation and the Demon began to smell salt.
She opened her eyes, saw that the wood had receded from around her. She stood now on the cliffs that were the precipice of the Grey Ocean. Boundless, endless, filled with stars, the Grey Ocean was a place that she could not enter without great risk. But the strand of the Arkuin was taught, fresh, meaning whatever she followed could not be far ahead.
She stared into the surging tide of the Grey. She knew that she could be destroyed by a black hole or temporal vortex out there, perhaps even one of the Lesser might attempt their hand at her death, ambushing her in that great sea. She tensed, her wings spreading wide in defiance. She would not be cowed by any of the Lesser, much less the specter of them in her memory. Perhaps the other Greater, and even the Primordial, might offer her real harm, but she did not foresee them coming into the Grey for her life.
She ascended into the air and began to follow the scent.
The Grey roiled beneath her. The waves jumped and surged without any discernible pattern, driven by the chaotic principles that formed the Material World. A duality, the Grey represented both infinity and nothing, for despite its boundless size, that which was contained within was separated by innumerable distances. Even then as she flew, she passed star systems, nebulae, and great dark voids which stretched so long that it seemed that they were the only thing inside.
Below, she watched a nova destroy a star system, the enradiance within reducing each of the planets back into molten dust. Some of the smaller bodies, the ones near the edge, were thrown by the massive gravitational forces, but their fate would be just as completely fatal. Lost from their star, they would freeze into pure ice. She sighed, hoping that these were not worlds inhabited by beings which could know fear. Below her thoughts, though, was a question. Had she been rash in her decision to fly over the Grey?
She continued, not allowing the brutal power of the Grey to fill her with fear. She was the Great Demon of Violence. She was one of the primordial forces. What could possibly give her cause to be afraid?
But the waters became calm, and she felt the Arkuin swell with power, and she knew that she had erred.
A small hole opened in the water, dark as night. The swirling grew, yet was quiet as death. Her hearts filled with fear and her mind immediately began to seek escape. But it was too late. It was far too late. The Dark Star was showing itself to her, and the Demon of Violence knew that it was to meet its end.
The Dark Star’s empty void split into two, a thin white line forming in its heart. It opened, revealing a cluster of eyes within. They were each vortices of their own, yet somehow they all looked at her. Soon the Dark Star had taken up the entirety of the Demon’s sight, bubbling upward from the Grey without warning. This being, the center of all black holes in existence, was powerful without measure. For it to be here, in this moment, was no accident.
“Your enemies are greater than even I surmised. Farewell, Violence.” These were the only words the Dark Star had ever given her, and would be the last. Despite the countless times Violence had found herself at the periphery of The Dark Star’s children, never had she met it. Now she had, and it would destroy her.
As the powerful void began to consume her, she felt an indomitable rage flow within. This rage burned hot against the darkness that was slowly killing her, so hot that the darkness was held at bay, if only for a few moments. But this short time was all she needed to… unfold. She was primordial, like The Dark Star itself. If it could survive the creation of material reality, then she could survive its endless maw, even if just a sliver.
So she imagined the shapes within, the many forms of violence that had been her own in the Material Realm. The face of Saya came, but she turned it away. Saya was one of love and victim-hood, and in this moment there was no place for her. Karce, Mallus, Larren, Hrathla, the faces of those Hallowed Violent who had manifested as now showed themselves to her. Then she saw Saya’s face again, and pain followed as the Demon’s flame began to burn low.
And so it chose Karce, The Ashen Spear, and as The Dark Star was almost done with its destruction of her, she sprung her trap, revealing that which she had kept hidden deep within her heart. The Dark Star came into contact with a small pearl of darkness and knew then that her bet had been correct.
“An effigy of the nexus. This is an offense which cannot be forgiven.”
The effigy was destroyed and in it the Demon found new life. Though she had been consumed almost entirely, a fragment had traded itself for the destruction of the effigy. Karce, no… Saya. It was Karce… or was it Saya? Confused darkness was all of her reality for a long while as the layers of her home fell away from her. No thoughts existed, no identity, just a voiceless cry into infinite darkness.
But soon she felt heat and could open her eyes, could feel a body forming itself from coldness into warmth. Stars passed by at incredible speeds, and she knew that she was falling through the heavens. Her stomach coiled in fear, for now she was within material time and knew not when, or where, she would arrive.
She eventually went into slumber, and though dreams came, she found herself thinking in fragments. A part of her yearned for her spear, the symbol of her purpose. A part of her yearned for the embrace of a faceless, nameless lover. And yet another part yearned for… a nameless thing. Something she once knew, but had been consumed. A part of herself which had existed and now only remained as a memory within Karce. Saya. Karce-Saya-Karce-Saya-
Her dreams were nightmares then, of being a freakish assemblage of two bodies fighting for control. She walked on four disjointed legs, sprouting from her at aggressive and painful angles. Her arms clawed at one another, and one of her heads could not sleep because the other was constantly screaming.
And then she felt herself screaming, and she awoke.
She was lying in a small room. The walls, the floor, the ceiling was all made of the same shiny, cold stone. She sat up quickly, felt her stomach squeeze and then wretched to her side as she became ill. She heaved for a few moments before finally it abated. She wiped her mouth, looking again at the room. It was strange, she had not seen a place like this before. Small beads of glass were attached to the walls in strange patterns, light emanating from within. In the corner, a small pad of some sort. She stood, found that the gravity did not have as great a hold here as she was used to.
Her stomach turned. Could she still be in the Grey Ocean? It was the only place she knew where the laws of gravity behaved differently. This thought confused her, for she did not know what the Grey Ocean was.
Her thoughts were disturbed when a loud hiss sounded from behind her. She whirled around to look, saw that a part of the wall had opened. A figure stood there, what looked like a human woman. She wore a strange outfit, a single uniform which covered her neck to toe. It was dark black, shiny, and clung to her form tightly.
The woman crossed her arms, looking down. “My name is Commander Salazar.”
Surprisingly, she could understand. She nodded. “I am Karce. Saya.” The words were heavy on her tongue, stilted, without rhythm.
Salazar nodded, turning behind her to look at someone in the hall beyond. Karce-Saya felt a momentary urge to dart through the door, but pushed the thought away. It would be death, most likely, if she did that.
Salazar returned her gaze down to Karce-Saya. “Well Karce, I have a few questions. First, and most important, how did you get onboard my ship?”
Karce-Saya tilted her head. Words came slightly easier this time. “Your… ship?”
Her mind began to fill with possibilities, and questioned if they were truly traveling in the Grey. Her head throbbed for a moment, trying to remember what the Grey had been and why her heart filled with fear just thinking its name.
Salazar reached out and rapped a knuckle on the wall, a sharp ringing emanating from it, bringing Karce-Saya’s attention back to her. “The Lastromoni.” She stared for a moment longer. “How did you get onboard this vessel?” She looked at Karce-Saya with a violent challenge within her eyes, a challenge well known to the former Demon.
Karce felt a swirl of heat rising in her chest, a tightening of the muscles in her hand. Images of war flashed within her mind, of swords slashing and spears stabbing and the clank of metal on chitin. She felt the challenge that Salazar presented, knew that she could answer with force and power.
But Saya cowered away in fear, heart beginning to pound. She remembered warm embraces and soft kisses, knew only the pleasures of lovers and friends and food, felt only fear in the presence of violence.
Both saw Salazar and recognized her deep, deep in their heart from… somewhere.
So what remained of the Greater Demon of Violence struggled within, collapsing to the floor as both Karce and Saya struggled to assert control of the body they shared. She was only roughly aware that Salazar stood and watched, and soon was left to deteriorate alone.
So Karce-Saya was locked into self-battle for a long while, unable to even recognize whomever came to the door to deliver her food. They found only few moments of peace, and only when both Karce and Saya felt they were thirsty enough for water. Beyond this, the struggle continued.
So for days on end, they collapsed in on themselves. They knew not their true origins, only their own fictions. Yet, they each still recognized that in some way, they both used to be one.
Regardless of the intensity of the fight, the result was long known to the two in their hearts. Saya was no fighter and Karce was no lover. Saya had no hope of holding out forever, and so, in the brutal fashion only the Tyron Warriors would muster, Karce slew Saya and locked her away deep inside Karce’s heart. Saya would never truly be gone, but Karce, when she awoke on the eighteenth day of turmoil, awoke alone and in control.
So she sat in the meditative pose of the Tyron, or what best this human body could approximate of it, and waited. It was not long before Salazar returned.
First, Karce asked, “What day and age have I come to arrive in?” The power in her voice was considerably greater, and though she had not spoken a word since her struggle with Saya had begun, she spoke with authority and command.
Salazar was initially amused, but soon her amusement turned to confusion as she realized that Karce was not joking. She stammered for a moment, then said, “It is the 67th millenium. We are on course for the Great Exhibit.”
Karce nodded, though she didn’t really understand why she wanted to know this information. Despite that, it made her stomach drop.
Second, Karce asked, “This vessel, we are not upon a planet?”
Salazar nodded. “At least you recognize a spaceship.”
Karce’s face soured, realizing that this time was very different from times past. She crossed her arms. “Why have you imprisoned me aboard your ‘space ship?’”
Salazar turned to look back out the door, to those beyond, and then back. “Imprisoned? You must be mistaken.”
Karce shook her head, words spewing forth that she had no control over. “Unless bound by hexile and stone, I would not be here.”
Salazar looked back at Karce, eyes wide. “You are something else.” With that, she exited the room and the door closed behind her.
Karce sighed, sat back into the warrior’s pose to regain control of herself, perturbed at the rush of words. She breathed slowly and began trying to remember her life to distract herself from the present. It would be no easy task, but it was an effort she could not afford to neglect.
She could not deny that part of the effort was to find some answer to her existence, why she was here, and what she now was. She also sought any information she could use to stave off the small pearl of light locked away in her heart. Saya, though slain, was only dormant within. Uncontrolled, she would eventually reawaken.
Karce could not have that.
****************************
Some memories had returned. She had been Karce. She had been 10th Chrysomere to the Hive of the Tyron. She had walked with honor among the Pilles and the Weevos of the villages who saw her as a living legend. She had led the destruction of the Hive of Kranmar, the Hive of Juscis, and the Hive of Lihno. She was 92nd in line for the Rulership.
She had not been human. Each time this thought came to her, she felt disgust well up within for her current living form. Yet… this body seemed familiar in a way she could not understand. It had been a terrible revelation to recognize it, from somewhere deep, as the physical manifestation of Saya.
Saya… just thinking the name filled Karce with rage. A being so soft, so weak, had somehow survived The Dark Star and tagged along with Karce. How it happened… she could not remember, nor even what the Dark Star really was. All she felt was anger thinking about the weakness she had to contain within her heart.
She again tried to focus on her memories, for even many aspects of her own history had become fragmented detritus. But the more she tried, the more that returned to her, though glaring holes still remained.
But as she remembered certain details, she was reminded again and again of something she did not have the heart to accept; that she and Saya were once part of a larger host of identities, like masks in a closet. They were not as real as what had possessed them, had made them, yet… she could not recall what it was that being had been.
In many ways, this repetitive cycle of remembrance left Karce confused and angry as she meditated on the cell’s floor. Despite how familiar things felt in this Saya-body, everything was still different than she expected. The foods were different than she was used to, so she did not eat much. The room was cold and hard, and though there was a sleeping pad in the corner, she knew that for the Tyron, such comforts were for the Pilles and Weevos. There was no running water, nor any… “What were they called?” she asked herself. Nothing came. Only the image of small creatures which ate damaged chitin to leave room for regrowth.
For many days she struggled to remember what had been forgotten, not just of her own life, but of the thing she had been. Yet… so little remained that made any sense. Dazed by the monotony and confused remembering, she whispered half forgotten words to herself, “An effigy of the nexus. This is an offense which cannot be forgiven.”
She came back to attention, analyzing the words which had just come from her. What did they mean? What was the nexus? What was the effigy? Anger surged as answers did not come and Karce allowed it to burn low before she returned to her meditations.
Without answers, she had only her memory to rely on. So she breathed, as crude as it was compared to the Tryon’s physiology, and settled her mind. She rolled her shoulders, imagining the flutter of her forewings at the junction of her prothorax and mesothorax. Her mind filled with the memory of acid, and attempted to enjoy the bland food that had been brought to her earlier. Each time she tried to center herself in her body, though, she was filled with waves of fatigue and distress, her heart beginning to pound in her chest.
Karce focused in on this beating between her lungs. After a moment, she felt that it was thrumming through her entire body, a subtle reminder of something far greater in her previous form.
The word escaped her lips without meaning to. “Enradiance.”
The deep well of emotion that opened inside at the utterance of the name brought tears to her eyes. She dropper her food to the floor, sobbed once, and the sadness was subdued by a wave of confusion. She thought, “What is this feeling that makes me wish for death?” Her face burned hot, her eyes streaming water as if irritated, and her body felt like it was becoming weighed down with stone.
From her heart, she heard an echo of thought. “Despair.”
Incredulous, Karce said, “Despair? What type of creature would evolve such terrible forces within?” She shook her head. Despite Saya lying dormant within, some of her memories were making themselves apparent to Karce. Panic swelled, then anger, and it began to subside as she considered the value in this knowledge.
As angry as she felt, she couldn’t help but admit that some guidance to being a human was not entirely unwelcome.
But a dark thought came to her. Karce wondered if perhaps it was Saya’s presence which was making remembering her own life so difficult. Could it be because there were two people’s lives taking refuge inside her?
She sighed, thinking about this thing, Despair. A thought came unbidden to her, “Despair, cousin to Violence. Watching now and doing nothing.” Karce inhaled sharply, her body frozen. Again, this was not her own thought, nor was it that of Saya’s sleeping memory. No, this was from… beyond. This was a thought of the thing she once was.
Like glass breaking, the thought she had been circling revealed itself, the true irony of her existence. Karce, and Saya too, were nothing but fabrications. They were each of them faces worn by a greater thing, forged for a purpose. This being, consumed, saved a part of itself in them. How? Why? To what end? None of these answers remained in her memory.
For a long moment, Karce’s newfound friend Despair consumed her. Other feelings joined, their names whispered quietly from the darkness. Grief. Anguish. Rage. Karce’s strict physical control wavered and she found herself collapsed, sobbing on the floor. Devastation. Hopelessness.
Despite how much she longed to lay there and die, she fought herself to regain her composure and force away the feelings, drowning out her thoughts with the battle prayers of the Tyron. She whispered them quietly to herself to break the silence of her cell. “Split the Shell, Rend the Wings, Burn the Grubs, Steal the Rings. Show the devil his wicked son. Reveal to god the chosen ones.”
Over and over she said the words that her troops would chant as they went into siege a neighboring hive. She felt that the language she spoke now lacked the elegance of that in her memory, but even hearing their meaning brought a modicum of comfort to her.
She eventually lapsed into silence, ruminating on the value of her existence anymore. She was no longer a Chrysomere, nor even a Tyron for that matter. She could not claim anything of her past, and even if she did, would it change anything since she had never been ‘real’ to begin with?
She answered her thoughts out loud. “It doesn’t matter if I was not real. I am real now. I am all that remains.” The words came out of her in defiance, a fire rearing up in her heart. Passion. She beat a closed fist to her chest, ignoring the pain and enjoying the thrum in her abdomen. “This is my life now. I will not live as the Pilles and Weevos. I will once again rise to my proper place.”
And despite the satisfaction that Karce felt at saying the words, they barely echoed the deep hunger she felt then. No food or drink called to her, nor any material thing. No, she yearned for that which she once was. She yearned to be once again endless and boundless and powerful enough to create someone like Karce.
As far as Karce knew, a being such as that demanded worship.
***********************
A new room, this one with a table and chairs, though the walls, floor, and ceiling were all the same cold stone. Her thoughts were amused today. “Metal she had called it, though unlike any metal I have seen.” Karce was sitting comfortably across from Salazar, who was flanked on her left by a young man.
“I have brought you here in hopes that you will be a bit more accommodating with more comfort.” Salazar spoke softly, though the hardness in her gaze had not abated.
Karce smirked, a strange sensation. “I am not in need of the comforts of the weak.”
Salazar’s mouth turned down in a frown. “Again with this?”
Karce tilted her head. “Explain yourself.”
Salazar sighed, aggressively pointed to Karce’s body. “You consider yourself strong? You’ve never seen a day’s labor in your life.”
Anger filled Karce then, but she kept herself calm despite her wish to kill this strange woman. “The labors of my life are not within your realm of understanding.”
For a moment Salazar sat in silence, studying Karce. As she did, Karce noticed a subtle change in the woman’s gaze. At the beginning, each of their conversations revealed that Salazar thought that something was wrong with Karce. A wide gaze, constant belittling laughter, and the constant response of, “Uh huh… sure.” Even new to human behavior, it was clear that Salazar did not accept Karce as sound of mind.
But now, her gaze was turning more serious. For the first time she saw uncertainty, and maybe even a touch of fear. Karce surmised that Salazar was now unsure whether Karce was a threat or not.
Salazar turned to look to the man standing behind her. “This is Robert Siler. He is a gentle fellow and you are in no danger with him. I can tell that you and I are not going to get along, so maybe you and Robert can talk to find some common ground.” Salazar stood, scraping her chair on the floor, and quickly left the room.
With a subtle elegance, Robert took Salazar’s chair and crossed his arms, looking at Karce with dispassionate analysis. Despite Salazar’s claim that he was a gentle sort, that was not Karce’s read on him.
For a long while they sat in silence. Finally, Robert removed his hat and placed it at the table’s corner. Then he leaned forward and placed his chin in his hand, elbow on the table. “You don’t look like anyone from anywhere.”
Karce nodded, looking up but seeing into her own imagination. “An accurate statement.” She still did not see Saya when she imagined herself, but the tough, spine covered blue of her exoskeleton.
Robert leaned back, crossing his arms again. “Do you have a problem with Salazar?”
Karce looked at him, focusing in on his face for the first time. “I take issue with anyone who would keep me against my will.”
He shrugged, his mouth cocking up into a grin. “Tough words for a stowaway.”
Karce tilted her head in confusion. “You think I sneaked onto this vessel like a thief to seek free passage? That is below me.” Karce’s voice was filled with disgust.
Robert’s smirk faded at her genuine reaction. He nodded, his eyes falling downward. “How did you get here then?”
Karce did not answer, sighing. “I do not know how I came to be upon your vessel. If it is not you who captured me, then perhaps it was an accident.”
He leaned forward, his attention alert once more. “How could it be an accident?” He looked down, thinking. Then, before she could answer, said, “You said to Salazar that you would not be here unless bound by hexile and stone. What did you mean?”
Speech came unbidden to Karce, freely falling from her lips. “Unless one has channeled the fire in the sky into the deep stone within the earth, making an unbroken stream, I would not have been trapped here.” Her hands came up to her mouth, physically trying to stop the flow of words.
Robert sat, staring for a long while. His gaze had been serious before, but now had returned to the same gaze as Salazar’s had been, of one unconvinced of sanity.
He nodded, picking up his hat and putting it on once more before standing. “It was nice to talk to you, Karce Saya-.”
Karce came to her feet in anger. “Do not call me Saya. Only call me Karce.”
Robert froze, startled by her sudden movement. But when she did nothing else, he simply nodded and left the room.
This was not the last such meeting they had in that room, which Karce named the Interview Room. Many times Salazar would bring her into the room to ask why she was there, and many times she responded with asking why she was being help captive. Some others had come to explain, and in this Karce learned many things.
From Ashley Varagoza she learned that this was a vessel which transported mining resources. Ashley had joined the crew because she had failed in her exams and needed work quickly.
From Kegan Situ she learned that the Grand Exhibition was a confluence of humanity where millions traveled across ‘space,’ between the stars, to gather and do business. Kegan’s family had once been merchants so he felt familiar with the world of the Grand Exhibition, even if he no longer lived in it.
From Ava Romos she learned that Salazar was a legend and a legacy among Aster-pilots. Romos had went to pilot school because of what she read about the Salazar family, hoping that she too might become renowned for her pilot skills.
So Karce now knew that Salazar was their captain and owned the ship, and that she was one of a long line of pilots who traveled across the stars. As these interviews went on and she learned more about the crew of the Lastronomi, it became clear that the world she had awoken to was nothing like the life she remembered.
Humans had a vague familiarity to them, something she attributed to Saya’s memories, but nothing of their culture, their economics, their very way of living felt in any way natural. The attempts of the crew to glean information about her reveled more about their world than she did of herself. In this, a feeling of isolation grew stronger with each interview. Yet, there was a certain excitement within her as she realized she would be learning something entirely new, that none of the Tyron or the other hives had ever conceived. She had not been a researcher, nor a scholar, but Warriors of the Chrysomere were educated. Thus, the part of her forged in her studies was allowed to unfold here.
Thus, her tactics began to change. She would bait the crew in their conversations, enticing them to offer up personal details in hopes that they might get it in return. In this she felt the first feeling of gratitude for Saya’s visage, for something in its form disarmed the crew as her newness faded. They saw her as a threat in those first months, but now she was just a strange woman along for the ride. Their growing comfort with her presence broke the facade Salazar had aimed to create, one that mirrored Karce’s.
Even Salazar herself loosened in her rigidness after the sixth month. They were nearing the end of their journey and Karce had not shown herself to be a threat in any meaningful way. So from Salazar she learned that the Salazar family line goes back to the original pilots for the first spaceships. Dangerous and filled with the unknown, those pilots and their crews were the ones who formed the paths that would allow humanity to expand. It was only this reason which allowed her access to the Grand Exhibition.
As the journey’s end grew nearer and nearer, a plan began to form in Karce’s mind. These people, even so far as the captain of the ship, were a group of lost souls. They had failed to establish a goal for themselves and followed the tides of circumstances instead. They would be pushed where the universe would push them, never knowing how capable of swimming they may be.
Karce was certain that she could use this.
A DARKER ENERGY 