Member
Zetsuko
Megatron
evierose
Fallenreaper
Snowdrops
Taka
Dark Jack
Crimson Flame
Kalas
The molten blood of a dying world dripped from the craggy underbelly of the shard, what little remained of its core sloughing away into the endless abyss of starless space. That shattered expanse of once-infinite possibility was now marred by transient rifts in space-time, opening and closing like gaping wounds 'pon moving flesh. Far above--through the infested Underworld and the slaughter of the Dead Queen--a pale race of men clung desperately to life. Scarred and burned, these children of the old world fled through the craggy earth of a vast mountain range, one of those few which remained after the great fracturing of their planet.
Step-after-bounding-step, they traversed that treacherous landscape, their feet well-callused against the stone of the soaring peaks, their bodies clothed in furs. One fell behind, then lost their footing and slipped, but not one of them turned to help her. Breathing hard, she pulled herself up and started off, glancing only once behind her as a tearing screech shattered the sky and ground against the grey stone of the mountains. She took a step, turning away from the unseen horror that pursued them, but it was too late.
A wave of intense ecstasy washed over her mind, bathing her consciousness in joy and unending rapture. The shrieking roar echoed through the mountain pass, but to her, it was a low rumble, a sensual moan, the groans of a man and his lover. Her eyes rolled back into her skull, and she fell to her knees, unable to stand against the unending onslaught of emotion and sensation. Emerging before her--not at a run, but with a steady swaying step--was a woman. It was as if she had stepped from a story of the elder days, her skin lustrous and shining, her eyes full with longing and satisfaction both. No single color defined her gaze as their eyes locked.
Soon, their lips followed suit, and she who had fled lost herself in the embrace of the lustrous woman. Time passed, but she could not tell how much. The world bled away as thoughts of running--of fear, and cold, and pain--seeped through holes in her mind as if she were a broken flask. Soon all sense of her body became a memory, and in the moments that followed, her name dissipated not into memory but into nothing. Still, as her consciousness unraveled and her body went with it, she felt only beautiful sensations, knew only of pleasure, warmth, and connection. Satisfaction, desire, then satisfaction again.
Then she-who-had-ran became she-who-had-been before--in an instant--they became she-who-was-not.
The lustrous woman turned from the bare ground upon which her once-lover had bared herself en full and so been lost to the world, but there was no satisfaction in that ever-shifting gaze. In those eyes, there was only ecstasy and terrible unending hunger. Far off, perhaps several miles away, one pale man turned atop a cliff and looked upon that lustrous figure. The monster screamed, and its voice was pure eroticism and comfort--be it of flesh or mind or spirit--it was terrible and without limits or bindings. The lustrous woman dissolved, though the eyes remained, and what emerged was a vast flowing serpent of flesh and effervescent mist. Every movement was like the groan of a thousand creatures, each in the throes of sensual completion.
It howled, and it shrieked, and then it rose through the air and streaked towards the man.
He ran, but could he and his people do so forever against a horror that did not tire, that would never stop, and could not be fought or reasoned with?
So, with this considered, their survival was...unlikely. Nonetheless, the tribe kept going, descending the craggy peaks at speed. In a day, they reached the base, and in hours more, they found shelter in a vast cave. There, truly desperate for a reprieve, a man called upon forces that once his ancestors had understood. Mind steeled, he bent his Will against the world, and with the weakening of laws and boundaries, with the leaking of unreality into its midst, he managed an act of Magic.
The cave mouth collapsed behind them so that finally they could rest. Slumping to the ground, sweat-slick across the 'Caster's cold, pale skin, the man peered into the utter black of their brief haven. He heard only the sounds of labored breath. They had been lucky this time, for it seemed nothing lurked within this cave. A good thing, as they had no way out...at least until he had rested. For a time, that's all there was, but eventually, someone proffered a light--a sacred thing in these times--and let it banish for a time the darkness of their temporary home.
"Thank you, Fein," a woman's voice whispered across the cave. Fein smiled, his heart no longer beating hard against his ribs, his breathing slowed, though he felt a soreness in his throat and a deep cold that had long since settled upon his bones. "Of course," he said, but his voice was hoarse and strained; his Magic took much from him, almost too much. Each time it was worse. A man approached him and crouched, meeting Fein's eyes, "You are close," he said, worry evident in his demeanor. The words were quiet and restrained.
Fein gave his elder brother a smile, "No, Vham Ane, I will be fine." He said it loud enough so that all heard the confidence in his voice, despite its hoarseness. Vham frowned but nodded and took a seat beside his brother. The two embraced, for warmth and comfort both; others did much the same, and soon all but one of them was asleep.
The light began to dim, a sign that many hours had passed him by. Fein, who did not sleep, watched it closely and listened to the howling of the wind that was muffled by the cave-in that he'd wrought. Though the others slept and so were unaware, he knew that the voice of the mountains was not the only thing shrieking in the night beyond their oasis of light and safety. Though his people had long since laid their faith in the Old Betrayers to rest, Fein--in an act of quiet, hopeful desperation--said a prayer in his mind.
'To any who might listen. To any who can hear my call. To those of you who might exist beyond, still watching, please help us. Help my people; my brother, my granddaughter. We have lost so much,' Fein thought, and he knew he was pleading, knew how pitiful and weak it sounded, even in his own mind. Still, Fein did not stop, and soon his Will was behind the call he'd sent to the Void beyond.
'Please, help us survive. Do not let us die like those before us. Do not let our world die!'
The mountain shook, and so his tribe awoke. Fein's eyes widened, and their light suddenly dimmed to nothing, then was extinguished. Eyes turned, seeking anything in the coal-black of the cave. Hands scrabbled upon dirt and stone, seeking out the source of their light. People rose and moved to the collapsed entrance, pushing against the rubble and dislodging tiny rocks.
Despite his people's panic, Fein remained still, staring. For, hovering in the air across the cavern was a glowing effigy of otherworldly light, which limned a twisting symbol. It regarded them, and the weight of its gaze--all at once--froze everyone in place.
"O' ye of simple flesh," the emanation intoned, its voice making every stone and person shake.
"Beckoned by your call, I answer, knowing your resolve."
Men and women shook as, slowly, they turned to regard the Icon that had revealed itself to them. Gradually its light expanded, unveiling the true majesty of the impossibly vast cavern. That mountainous cavity appeared almost to grow outwards in every direction without end, its only limit the entrance they had once ruined. A woman, Fein's granddaughter Rha Alia, touched the stone of the wall and realized that it was smooth and without blemish. The collapse had healed, and the grey stone seemed to have been replaced with jet-black marble.
"Who are you.... What are you?" Rha Lia ventured. Fein peered at her, pride and fear at war within his eyes.
The entity said nothing, but the symbol's radiance advanced, overtaking each and every one of them with its brilliance.
Within their bodies, inside their minds, a name echoed.
Sa'a Malath Kaal.
The Eye spoke then, for that was its nature--to see and to be seen.
"I am the Deity of Form," it rumbled, and suddenly each human in the cavern could feel its divine presence in their bones.
Enraptured, Fein let out another quiet question, "Can you help us?"
The mountain laughed, the cave-mouth opened, and outside the shrieking beast of sonorous flesh and Ecstatic experiential essence--writ in flesh and mist--evaporated into nothing. Where the horror had been there remained only writhing air, which howled, as if in pain, before it gradually grew still.
An elder of their people spoke up, tears streaking down his face, his voice thick with emotion. "You have returned," he wept, falling to his knees.
Somehow, though its shape never changed, the Eye smiled. "I never left," it said, and strangely Fein felt relief wash through him. For the first time in generations, his people would not have to flee the Beasts of Dream and Flesh. Perhaps, finally, with the aid of this being...they could fight against the scourge that those horrid beasts were upon their remnant of a world. In his heart of hearts, he hoped that this was true. In time he would know that it was.
