DOES THE BLACK MOON HOWL?
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"For as Young as the Worlds may yet Be, All which hear it beckon know they live on borrowed time."
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"I sent her to look past what you allowed her to see," Vulhan told Arius.
The Old Man and the First of the collective stood face to face with one another; alone atop the Cornerstone. The myriad shelves of tangible information shifting in anticipation of both our words.
"And in so doing, you've jeopardized both of our existences. She's going to find it; what do you think is going to happen when-?" Arius began, but was cut off by Vulhan.
"A, don't pretend you have omniscience well-in hand, you could barely handle omnificence;" V rebuked. "If you did, The Wretch wouldn't have escaped its confinement and cost you Arginold."
Arius shook his head at Vulhan, the tips of his luminous brow furrowed downward towards creation.
"I think you and I both know that's not true, V." Arius rebuked Vulhan. "You designated Entropy a state of being for a system, but it's more pervasive than that, and you would have understood my fears instead of dismissing them if you had but opened your eyes in life, as I tried to help you to do so many times… I am not obsessed with why you chose your current path, but what I do want to know is 'why now'?"
Vulhan stood in silence amidst the shifting shelves, as the world itself within the Cornerstone waited for respite among the response, considering the next words to use. An all-consuming silence belayed the span between that point in time and V's next turn of phrase.
"You know the answer to that, A-." Arius cut Vulhan off, gesturing towards the veil between the fictional world we now presided over and the one from whence we came.
"But they don't, V. That is what I always tried to consider. Be it as it may be that I am this story's author, that is your own story to tell. So go on ahead; let flow the records of my sins, just don't forget that you and I both know what you fell to in spite of my warnings."
"I haven't forgotten, A. I wanted to forgive… and you held me in contempt."
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In an Age before the story began…
POV: Vulhan
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He and I met at the behest of an apartment manager back in 2021, and we instantly hit it off with how many interests we shared. Between video games, the philosophical debates and the indulgence of kush and the occasional other substance (nothing too hard, mind you), we found ourselves talking a fair amount. Eventually, after his arrangement with his roommate fell apart (I can imagine a roommate not knowing how to demonstrate a work-life balance would drive you seven types of insane) and he moved out of a motel, he and I moved in together.
I admittedly don't know exactly when this story of his began to take shape as it did, he had told me prior that he worked on it to stay sane in a dark place years prior, that someone had trashed it in an attempt to break him and he mocked their very attempt. But what I do know… is that his search of Magick began with me. Maybe I am at fault for what he has become, maybe he is at fault for what I ended up doing after everything, I don't know, but his obsession with the Magick of Stories began with me even if his stories did not; that is a fact.
I was 45 when we met, he was 26, and I was almost 47 when we began living under the same roof. We spoke at length about mundane mechanics, physics, thermodynamics, quantum mechanics, metaphysics, pataphysics, the esoteric, everything we'd forgotten in the haze of the sheer amount of extract we smoked could fill an anthology. The main problem was that due to an injury from when I was his age that came from falling out of a moving vehicle, my train of thought and my olfactory bulb were more or less shot. My sense of smell was reset to factory default and seeing an idea through to actualization, to solidify it, took leaps and bounds more effort than it had before. In spite of that, he was as patient as he could manage, which would be to say that he was much more patient with me than most others in my life had been. He wasn't just saying that he was hearing what I said, either; you could… tell he was listening with bated enthusiasm, as if he thirsted for the outlooks others had on life.
Maybe he did already know what I was trying to explain to him, perhaps he just didn't want to flaunt it; he always looked through what I was trying to explain to him. He was always amicable until you weren't; maybe that's why he managed to put up with me for so long, as it were. That's how he'd put it anyways, I'd imagine.
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"And yet you know why I held you in contempt at that moment, V. After everything I taught you and what you taught me, for you to take the actions you did, to throw plausibility and possibility to the wind, and bank solely on probability alone goes in the face of everything we worked on together. But I never once thought of it as 'putting up' with you."
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Our time under one roof did not last, unfortunately. Our apartment complex had changed ownership and they wanted me out. One of the last things I created under that roof, was for him; the full body of a parrying blade cast from sheet metal, and cut to a specific outline of his specification. He christened it "Etch," and as I told him, I felt a wave of static rush through the room when he lifted its precipice to the ceiling. I warned him never to use it as a weapon.
To his credit, he stayed true to his word when he told me he would not. I still maintain respect in him for that much, whether to my discredit or merit is something I am not concerned with anymore. He told me all about (by his own admission) 'his mad delusions,' of this collective thought-form he'd devised as a conduit between himself and his story. I think I found that… slightly endearing, in a platonic of course, but on an intellectual level. He asked me, the various versions of me, as we both had ascribed our paradigms upon the foundation of eternalism, if I wished to come along with them.
You see, Arius and He had what I and my other selves lacked severely: where my thoughtforms could not synchronize with my vessel without focus, his could on a whim. I doubt even he himself recognized what he was capable of at first, he was like a natural to the occult arts. I don't know if it was his interest in that collaborative writing project on wikipedia(-), I don't think it matters anymore.
Well, our collaborative efforts reached a fever pitch not long after I lost one of my dearest friends for several years. I asked him to explain to me how his thought process works… he showed me his framework for Narratomancy; his Chaos Theory, the Magick of Stories; he faltered near the start, deferring to me to solve for what he couldn't. In order to solve in probabilistics for an Anti-narrative, you diffuse possibility across the length of the planck's timespan. To my disbelief(?), he insisted on crediting me there in his grimoire, and to once more include me in his collective; this after continuing on for a further four phases on top of the three he had already managed with a light amount of assistance from myself. I admit, I… freaked out the second time. I heard he had gotten caught up in daemonology, and in spite of the evidence of the opposite aspect also being evident in his work, I drove him out of my abode for fear of my soul, in spite of his assistance.
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"And in spite of that folly, I still gave you yet another chance, and proved your sight was wrong on several counts. I just wanted you to listen, for so long I wished you'd listen to me the whole way through as I had, but you felt the need to interject on top of everything I output. Not everything requires meta-criticism/analysis."
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As he has said, he was admittedly better versed in patience than I was, at least in terms of social settings. This being said, he set his standards of myself and my other selves too highly; maybe it's not that but that his own ideal self was too lofty and misjudged the distance between myself and him, but he still forgave me. He warned me, however, that his patience was running thin. In Hindsight, I recall the urgency in his voice, he… they… wanted me to understand something, and I thought I knew it, but when I thought about it further after last we spoke, something gnawed at the perimeter of my mind.
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Transitioning back to initial P.O.V.
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"A, you told me back then that Synergy was something that came from within, but why was it always silent for me?"
Vulhan's tongue whipped about in rage as Arius let it pas through him. A dozen dozen shelves beneath them felt the volumes they contained shudder at their spines.
"It's because your fury blinded you. Your wrath made you incapable of seeing what I could. You became so dependent on rage, anger and contempt yourself; even I could not say that yours is of a sound mind. It is only natural I would not trust you further with the development of Narratomancy. You'd know that if you read what I proposed to you, but you hate walls of text. I can't fault you for that, but to maintain equilibrium, you can't be mad that I prefer speaking with language rather than sound, and you understand why."
"THEN TELL ME ARIUS-."
"Because in the process you nearly annihilated the both of us!"
A Harrowing stillness overcame the pinnacle of the cornerstone where we stood, and blotted out the 729 Proto-Stars in an ungodly hue of pitch that coated over information, constants, equations, matter and energy alike; seperating Vulhan and Arius from the rest of the Cornerstone in both concept, form and entanglement.
"How many chances did I give you, Vulhan?"
V did not answer A verbally. A could tell… there was something listening within the membrane of pitch. Something that neither of them wanted to see or hear from again. But V had already set this in motion, and so A had to speak.
"Three, I gave you what the Law of Three Primes demanded I give you, and then I gave you more. I asked from you, yes. I will not nay-say what it objectively true; how much, I will ask, rebuking you: how much more did I give to you, than I took from you? I even sought to help you rid yourself of your own demons, did I not?"
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Strings.
That name always gave me cold, cruel pause.
It was the name I gave the monster borne of my disorganization and bad habits.
Strings.
Like cobwebs pulling on a marionette puppet, cobbling everything together until it all falls into itself.
In anthropomorphizing an egregore, little did I know like Arius tried to warn me, I gave it more power over me than I ever intended to give. Maybe because I met him later down the road from this absolute monster of a thoughtform-turned-rotten.
Almost like a curse, but almost like foreshadowing… He warned me that I would play right into his worst enemy's hands before he ceased contact with me…. But he never severed the link to me. Surely he must have known that would condemn him somehow…
Strings… oh misbegotten child of mine, if you could have only died before you were born, that I wouldn't suffer you in place of what I cannot make up for.
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"Do not invoke my demons in front of me, A; you forget where we stand!"
The Void around us was saturated in an instant with cobwebs and silk as thin as a photon, and inversely as strong as it was thin, it caught on me, and wrapped itself around my wrist, attempting to string me up.
"I never forgot. It was physically impossible for me to forget of my own accord! I know I explained that to you on numerous occasions. Everything I've ever forgotten was not something I wished to forget! I'd have been much happier alive if I had been allowed that small mercy! But the reason we're here in the first place is because in spite of my feelings about what you almost did to me, that I still spoke to the deity you believed in, to permit me to look inside his house, on the off-chance I'd be wrong!"
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The deal he struck, unfortunately, I'm not allowed to speak of that. Since I am only using his hand to write out my own thoughts on the matter, that would be a breach of ethics. If I ever knew him at all, though; I'm sure he's chomping on the bit trying to fit it in somewhere, somehow.
Thing is, in this area, {context redacted}, time is as indifferent to us as oblivion. I can't even be sure he's orating my nominations and notions in chronological order properly. Arius, on the other hand, they're desperate for the truth, regardless of how utterly horrible it may be; a survival mechanism, almost.
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"But you know the result of that bid, Vulhan, because I am not singing with you amidst a choir of angels; you are sitting here, atop a story that is not even your own, and you would attempt to usurp its author of the Pen you sought to teach my Father to wield!"
The half-unreal space containing the cobwebs began to fracture between Vulhan and Arius as the concept of {Collapse} ruptured the Void and brought the both of us back into the point of setting just above the Cornerstone. In spite of… its presence not saturating the void around us however, it was now invested in the happenings here. V was blinded by the light of the 729 Proto-Stars shining at them, unabated by the Cornerstone's liminal membrane since they, we, were both outside it.
"Is this what your mutiny is founded on, V? Were you always this sallow, this hapless excuse of an empty-headed academic? I thought you better!"
"That's a hollow jest, Arius; that you ever thought… you squander that pen! You leave them waiting for aeons to tell them a story that's as straightforward as our home country was transparent!"
"I am not disagreeing with you, V, but as much of a slouch as I am, you know I'm right… you know, because we both saw through my lens and we beheld ENTROPY AS A PART OF {Deific Name Redacted} GRAND DESIGN."
V wrapped a boney hand around A's throat and brought him down, spine first against the pinnacle of the Cornerstone. A solemn reverberation trembled across the framework/scaffolding of the Cornerstone through every crevice and corner, signaling great injury.
"You are not worthy to speak his name, you were not in life, you will never be in this foreternal unlife you've made for yourself, and the rest of us! How would you presume to know better than a literal God!?"
"To know the answer to that, V…" A coughed up transient ichor, "You'd have to be capable of retaining the knowledge of what we saw. You…"
V smelt something, which should have been impossible. It was reminiscent of… dying roses.
"You couldn't live with the potential knowledge of an omniscient entity being incorrect about its own design. The same entity can't help but exist with the knowledge of that facet of existence being an inextricable etching of its signature on the canvas of reality for every waking microsecond that passes across the innumerable planck seconds between the beginning of Time's March and the Last Second of Eternity. You saw it, you understood it, you comprehended it… but you couldn't accept it."
The Ichor faded from A's face, and began to dribble from V's lips, as the wound that was on A's back began to appear on V's front.
"Arius, I swear if you call this-."
"Don't be presumptuous, I do have respect for T.K.(*) This is simply an inversion of causality. Pretty straightforward compared to the power-scaling that man gets up to, but I've let you have your fun V."
The idea of {something} materialized in A's right hand.
"No…"
"You threatened to unmake us, and brought the attention of something I attempted to keep out, in."
A vortex of mathematic sequences and raw information coalesced in A's grasp, taking the quasi-material, meta-stable form of a Glaive.
"You don't even know what that thing is, or what it is that you've done; it's a Class-10 Memetic Infohazard and you sought to nurture it in an isolated partition of your mind, V."
Arius brought the glaive down towards Vulhan's neck but found its edge caught by semi-permeable tendrils of white flame, burning as hot as the core of the sun of their old world. The Cornerstone underneath them, under us, quaking.
"And you, you sought to bury it instead of making use of it, A. What a waste…"
"Indeed I did, V, and surely you must understand why. You, of all people must know why I didn't do as you had, why I chose to rely on other paths than wrath. You let it burn you hollow."
"And what of it?"
The Glaive was struck from Arius' hand in a flash of sparks and a wave of heat, landing on a transient sheaf of data.
"I am not the one so foolish that I would attempt to-."
Vulhan saw Arius' face, saw through it into his mind, and stopped speaking.
"You very nearly were just now. Impressive, I had up to a point thought you too impulsive to stop yourself from stepping on a landmine."
"Maybe that comes from being a part of you for however many billions, trillions, quadrillions of years it has been. I suppose I should be thanking you for that."
"Don't patronize me, V. I may not be pure of heart, I long accepted that outcome. But I didn't taint myself with rage in spite of how much of it I repressed." A hole opened underneath the glaive, connected to empty space directly above Arius' left hand, his right hand tracing runes.
"I am not giving you another chance to use my own tools against me!"
Blackened, twisting vines; non-conforming to Euclidean Geometry resembling spirals within spirals, infused with Vulhan's white-hot flames sought out A's right hand, but it was too late. Arius had cast down {something} back into the Cornerstone beneath us as the burning vines phased through his wrist.
"You did that the moment you took up arms against me, V."
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Oh yeah… I did do that once… in a fit of madness brought about by a moment of weakness nurtured by what He and I would later determine was potentially a servant of Asmodeus… I nearly attacked him. Strange… he'd been calm the entire way through, in spite of my freakout, he tried everything to keep me on the level. I recall seeing him bring Etch's precipice up against his forehead, and I saw it cut him open with blood flowing from his third eye. But simultaneously, I remember, he did not suffer a single wound as Etch did not so much as penetrate his flesh-
Oh, Arius… you had played me for the long con, hadn't you? You let me drive you out in order to trigger-
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"Un Hrol vik Stulaan Az'd lok-aht Ter V'lu-kithoz."
Vulhan cast vines wrapped in his flames to grab the glaive from Arius' left hand as A chanted an incantation while another mouth opened on the back of A's neck.
"Do you not even realize what you are wielding, Vulhan? The flames are yours, but those vines are not!"
A foreboding laughter echoed from beneath existence, but Vulhan seemed deaf to it.
"You continue to segway in spite of the urgency to progress!"
"I MAY HOLD YOU IN CONTEMPT FOR WHAT YOU DID, BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN I WISH TO SEE YOU ANNIHILATED, VULHAN!"
"BUT YOU WOULD DO SO JUST TO PROTECT YOUR STORY, WOULD YOU NOT!?"
I took hold of a small flare of Vulhan's flames in my right hand with the runes I drew earlier encapsulating it.
"If you dare to use her vines, you end up as part of her spiral, DO YOU NEED TO BE REMINDED OF WHAT SHE IS!?"
"I know. I just don't care, Arius. Your charade has gone on for too long."
"You've let yourself be lost just to see me undone, V; I am almost flattered. Unfortunately, I'm too busy trying to hold the heart you've broken together in my arms to feel esteemed."
The vines attempted to wrap around A's right hand, but melted coming into contact with the flame he picked up from Vulhan. V took notice of this and roared.
"Even now, as I stand opposite you on the precipice of your world, you would use my own gifts to undo what I have enacted? YOU ARE THE PINNACLE OF FOLLY, ARIUS VON X'IL."
"There's a problem with your use of her vines as a strategy, V. I explained it to you once before. To know something begets something being, for something to be means it must exist, yet you cast the Vines of the Unmaking Spiral to collect my being in an information space. But I am the one who embodies the pinnacle of folly? Truly, you are not without irony! Behold!"
Arius pointed a finger at Vulhan's left hand, now half-transparent. Vulhan seethed, burning even brighter.
"WHAT DID YOU DO!?"
Vulhan's flames continued to burn brighter and brighter, and the vines died as quickly as they spawned into a grand, blinding white immolating pyre.
"It's not what I did, you did this to yourself. But it'd be a mercy if you were to only suffer being unmade… No, you consigned yourself to something far worse… a fair amount of time before this chapter was set into motion."
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"Amon X'el Ira."
He told me it meant Wrath Hidden in Knowing, before we parted ways for the last time. He looked at me… like I was a Monster, I'd imagine. I wasn't looking right at him, so I couldn't say for certain. In spite of his past warnings, maybe because I had been set in my ways for a while now, but fury is a hard habit to ditch when it's helped you power through the worst in a life like my own. I sometimes wonder if we were a rare convergence, of two people who could naturally understand one another implicitly almost 100% of the time. Keyword in that being 'almost'.
We naturally had our discrepancies, but none as passionate, or as verbally colorful as the final discrepancy. I could tell he was broken in heart and mind over having to tell me what he did, but worse still I could tell he was forcing himself to say it because he himself did not want it to end like this.
Was it what I did, or was it because he wrote it?
When I first met him, I tossed a coin. I think he knew how it landed without me ever needing to tell, nor show, him.
Just how much of this did he see coming, and how much did he improvise for?
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The Glaive ignited as Arius placed his burning hand upon the tip of the blade; the runes he had traced infused into both the fire and the staff portion of the weapon. The blade ran cold with a level of indifference not even the Sovereign of the Thirteen Hells had dreamt of building up to, and A brandished it, ready to drive it through Vulhan. The pole was unfamiliar but Vulhan, being the one who cut the shape of Etch knew well what sat atop the staff. Vulhan once told Arius that he learned to both fear and respect the shape of that blade.
'I never wanted to use it like this, either. Why did you force my hand, Vulhan…'
A braced the rared the glaive, raising his hand up the staff, and brought the point of the glaive to face Vulhan. V wreathed himself in vine and fire as he continued to fade.
'Even having betrayed me, I will not suffer you falling to The Queen nor the Wretch; even if that puts me in danger later down the road, I won't let you fall to them… Sadly, you will still fall victim to your old vices. I would wish to sever you from your part in this story and send you to the God you wish to be at the side of… but I cannot leave the collective absent even one in count. If the 36 do not exist all at once in one vessel… Then their world will fall. So… I shall subsume your flame, and keep your spark alive even to my detriment, V.'
It happened so fast that to say it took a planck unit of time might be giving it too much time. One instant, A was facing V with the glaive, the next instant A was behind V and the glaive had been drawn across V's back. V turned around through the agony to grip A's neck, and seemed to impale A on a thread of spiraling vines sharped to a razor's edge.
For a single instant, Vulhan thought he had won, up until he felt himself being impaled in the same places Arius was, and another sensation; three strikes meant to sever anything acting like nervous tissue, in three very specific places: between C8 and T1, T12 and L1, and the L5 and S1 spinal columns. A moment later, and Vulhan was cognizant of his being in the place that Arius was, being impaled by his own vines, and now impaled on the other side by Arius' glaive.
"My Old Friend, Vulhan… you were such a fool."
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He always spoke as if he had a most forlorn love for something that didn't ever exist, like he just wanted to believe I could understand him. I suppose I can relate…
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Vulhan's body erupted into infovorous vines spiraling inward, outward and every which way, but always in a spiral. Arius used the glaive to deflect the vines from encroaching upon the cornerstone as he tried to reach for Vulhan's spark, to keep it from being consumed by {Narratohazard Expunged}.
'No, I am not letting you take his spark, Fell Goddess. His belongs to another.'
The Vines were no longer burning with white flames, but a mockery of white. The Vines grew ever the more massive and oh so much more twisted. She was approaching…
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Within the Cornerstone
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"It's been forever since he called upon us, a couple billion cycles, you think?"
Three women set foot down inside the trembling cornerstone. Two of them shared all likenesses spare age and height, both embraced by threads of something Ephemeral and unseen but mirroring reality.. The Third was unique, but carried a Sparrow on her shoulder and the song of nature wrapped around her garments. The taller of the first two spoke next:
"If we're talking about this fencepost cluster specifically, his original one, then it's been 3,054,297,384,914,257 cycles relative to what we used to know as a year, but keep in mind, it's compressed to what the Primary knew as a year. Three months pass in our world while a week passes in their own, and that is still a different metric of time's passing than what the Actualizer set for this realm's core."
The three considered their predicament for a moment in between small periods of time which the Cornerstone would shake for. The Third took their turn to speak
"Speak for yourselves; you two didn't just come from the same branch of reality, you are of the same blood, flesh, soul, and different choices. I speak in Magick and Essence, but you two speak in Void and High Science, but the fact that both of you are here, me aside, simultaneously should be a paradox."
One final tremor shook them out of their pensive arrival and into action as the first spoke.
"It's not the only one but we've got a situation up on the roof that needs to be dealt with before we can sort our current predicament out. Envoy," Said the first to the third, "you're on the console. Drifter," Continued the first to the second, "if all else fails, we need to have you ready and able to counteract her Spiral with your Loop; oversee frequency modulation and entanglement. I'll aim and power this thing," The Operator said with conviction.
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"By the way, my visitor? You should seek some thought to hold onto, lest you lose your footing."
Where confusion should have been, I brought forth a thought to cling upon as the Cornerstone lurched to one side, an indeterminable heading this far down in its guts. Everything was thrown askew,
"What is going on?" I asked the disembodied voice I found myself seeking out, my feet dangling as the dimensions of the labyrinth began to shift back to their initial position.
"One of the collective you are playing warden to has decided to rebel, but seeing how it's the same one who led you to me…"
I've been used again.
"Vulhan and I had a falling out, before he became a part of Arius."
My eyes and ears perked up hearing that.
"Then that means you're-?"
"I am what Arius discarded to become what he is, ultimately the fact he discarded me at all is why he needed to be able to emulate omnificence." I was answered by a voice bearing regret beyond reproach.
Jackpot.
"With things as they stand, I am left to assume that you read further than the Head meant for you to?"
A foothold materialized underneath me that remained constant, perpendicular to the pull of gravity. That was not my doing, I suppose the voice wants me to live long enough to answer at least.
"Yes, Project Omelas. I let my curiosity get-."
"I see," The Disembodied Voice interjected. "Apologies for interrupting you, but we've not much time. There was an Enmity, an Admonition behind Vulhan's treachery. That Enmity is currently being addressed, but that means you need to find your way to me before the end of this Scenario."
The End of the Scenario probably means by the time Arius has done away with the aforementioned Enmity, but shouldn't the appearance of any Enmity be a Doomsday level scenario? Is Arius fighting it directly? And if it's…
"Arius is currently attempting to prevent the Queen of the Seven Spirals from entering this plane via Vulhan's corpse. Find your way to me."
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I willed myself to fall for what seemed like several minutes, before I noticed that I was not falling anymore. Shaking my head, I looked around to find not but pitch in every direction I gazed.
"Follow my voice."
This must be the former guts of the Singular Conceptual Bunker(*), the weapon my predecessor used to outlast and combat the Wretch. So… I've found {The Last Memorial of the First Hytoth} at long last…
What could Arius have hid down here… the Voice said 'what he discarded in order to become what he is,' but that could have been… wait, something about what came after that… 'Emulation of Omnificence,' to say the Emulation of Infinite Creative Potential…
"You're on the right track and cannot physically traverse this place; you must let the information take you to where you need to go. Keep your train of thought, and don't delay."
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Back on the primary level of the Cornerstone
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The Three which Arius had sent back into the Cornerstone began to get to work configuring the Omegalithian Structure for a counterattack as their forms settled; an Envoy, a Drifter and an Operator, each with a unique function to serve. They were not brought into the collective the same way Vulhan was, from that world. Two came from a place that Vulhan and Arius shared, one came from a place only A knew of.
As the Envoy perused the various configuratory profiles to select from, a mad thought caressed the inside of her skull when her eyes landed on one of the Originals.
"Speaking of Paradoxes… OPERATOR, DRIFTER!"
"Envoy?"
"What if we interlocked and bound her Seven Spirals with an Eighth?"
"But we don't have a-."
The Envoy projected the profile data packet to the Drifter and the Operator, the latter of which responded as quickly as it was processed.
"Can you bind it properly? We can't use Euclidean Geometry on this, since she's a mesophysical threat."
"Scale it orthogonally against the Mandelbrot set! I'm certain!"
It was a mad gamble, using a physical location to bind a Goddess that fell from Grace, and to use such a sequence to fashion her chains, but they weren't about to leave their benefactor to fight {Narrativohazard Redacted} on his own. The Each of the Proto-stars that typically orbited the Cornerstone had retreated in fear of the Queen's touch, if nothing was done, her touch could easily infect everything above and below; this story would become a fortress for the annihilation of reality and fiction alike… No longer a tool, but a weapon.
"Scaling complete!"
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Proteus_Engine_Uplink_Verified
Configuration_Version_001.6
Codename: Mann_'_s_Legacy_001
Profile: ///Activated
Commencing_Payload_Polarization
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Arius stood in informational space with Vulhan's spark held close to his chest in his right hand, the left hand still holding the glaive, fending off the innumerable vines spreading forth as a metaphysical tumor from Vulhan's corpse.
'I should have been better at communicating my discomforts with you, my old friend. Maybe then we'd not have ended up at this point, but whatever your reasoning, I must see your designs broken.'
"Zo'ulo Kaitahsa, ihn dol Lohk shar Fahass!"
Arius swung the glaive over his head, bringing it down vertically onto an unperceived surface. A tremor, radiating an unfathomable spectrum of light, broke against a veil and attempted to swallow Vulhan's corpse. The incandescent maw opened up to consume the bushes of treachery and obliteration, but the vines reached below and into it; stuffing it open. Arius was forced back as Vulhan's corpse began to slowly rise and reshape itself using the vines to ply his information-based skin into something… anti-material.
'Is she mirroring my audacity in this attack? Well then…'
Seven spiral columns of vines, as thorny as the embellished allure of the black rose, erupted on any side of Vulhan's cadaver, though simultaneously the Cornerstone began to shift and reform as well, the pyramidal tip of the structure's pinnacle unfurled into a fractal prism. A grand cacophony of steamwork and digital excess ground upon cogs and gears unseen in an extra-euclidean masterwork of inter-dimensional mechanical physics. It resembled a Clockwork Klein Bottle.
'Good thing I've got audacity in spades.'
__________________
Incremental_Extrapolatory_Cascade//|//Solved
Metadata_Binding_Vectors//|//Calibrated
Ideatory_Trope_Sink_ReEngaged
Lock_On_Established
Infusing_of_A/O_Class_Deific_Conduit_[_First_Stroke_]_Complete
Standby_to_Trigger_Activation
__________________
"Presets are all coming back green, we are a go-mission!" The Envoy cried out.
"Stand by!" The Drifter replied urgently. "This has to be perfectly timed or we're going to have to find our way out of a loop rather than this rut! Kid, you ready?"
"Drifter," The Operator uttered, "I was born ready."
__________________
The Vines now towered over Arius, and were trying to encase portions of the Cornerstone. It would hold but not for long. Vulhan's corpse was almost reanimated completely and its reshaping was almost done. All Arius needed was a single clear shot, but the seven pillars surrounding the cadaver were all but obscuring all angles of attack. The reconfigured Cornerstone, shaped into a Klein Bottle, and capped with the Fractal Prism, stood charging something on what used to be its pinnacle. Then…
She spoke through his remains.
"Ỷ̴̙̩͔̹̘͖̀̇̓̆̄̒̒͠ò̸͙̺̟̣̳̘̞̘̞̥͒͆͒̽̌ư̴̱͕̇̒̇̀͘ ̴̘͊͐̉͂́̏͆͊̉̍̋͑ţ̷̛͎̤͖̗͙̖̖̻̉͑̽͒̽̋̔h̵̢̨̧̤͚͈̗͍͈̳̜̞͒͊̆̾̍͐̽̑́̌͝o̵̻̔͊͌̂̒͑͝͠ư̸̼͉̪͕̮̖̩̲̌̽̔̓̿̓̅̅̈́̓̇́́̍g̶͚̪͍̫͖̼̯̳͇̩̘̉͝͝͝ḩ̸̥͙̺̞̺̮̑̎̈́̋̍̀̀͘͜t̷̰̑̍̇ ̸̨̗͈̪̻̖̺͚̺̱́̓͌͗͒̓͗̏̋̊̈̔ÿ̷̨̛̺͍̬̝͈̝̦̮̜́̍̀̿͑̎̈͘o̵̜̽̉̍̿̿̄̎̊̓͛̉̄ų̵̨̛̖̠͓̳͎̠͇̭̼̣̬̽͌̏́͜͝ ̵̢̛̼̱̞̲̘̩̯͚̘͓̓̅̈́̍̇̊̐̅̒̐̀͋͜͠͝w̴̝̺͕͘e̶̪̙̜͖̼̞̳͌̆͐͗̄̚͘̕r̶̪̭̩͙̟͓̼̲̳͎͗̆͛͂̏̋̒̿̀̎͗̾̂̎̓ė̷̢̞͔̲͕̟̲̗̫̝̙̜͙͂̓̍̿̾̅̽͜͝ ̷͉͕̗͔͊̎͂̅̀̾̂̆̎͘r̵̺̗̯̹̪͈̼̫̖̲̮̀̂̿̓̑̂́̈́͂̑͂̚i̶̡̲͓̭̲͙̤̞̥̪̥̖̤̦̯͛̈́͗d̸̢̛̥̤̭̾̋̿̈́͗ ̶̨̧̰̭̖̞̪̳̟͍̟̥̹̭́̽̏͑͐̓̉͐̕͠o̵̩͈̳̱̭̥̘̱̫͉͎͚̻̓f̵̗̩̻̗̓́̀͆̄̇͊͒̈̆̍͊͛͝͠ ̴͚̞̯͍̖̺͇̠̾̃m̵̡̪͇͎͖̺͈̘̑̊͆͛̕͜ḛ̴̼̟͓͕̃̍̃̎͆͂͊͑̉̋̓̆̑̀͝"
His voice and hers spoke in a discordant unity, an amalgamation caught between unbeing and existence. Arius shook his head as the pillars began to unfurl into fractal spirals of thorns upon thorns upon thorns, unfolding at a rate of .001 parsecs per second.
[Dimensional Narrative Integrity Compromised – Degeneration Factor at 93% Continuity]
"I knew I was never going to be rid of you that easily. I merely thought you'd know better than to use my friend to get to me."
"̴̞͕̰͛̊̒̎̕H̶̢̛̬̻̘̏̿͐̂̀̌̒̈́͂̚̕ǒ̶̧̢͔̻̦͖̳͍̱̜͒́͂̑̈́̊̊̃̎̃̀͛̅́ͅw̸̡̬̲̼̤̟̳̭͙̘̗̲͝͠ ̶̛͇̩̹̎̋̈́͊̉̿̃̿̏͊̐v̵̨̧͈̠̺͓̪͙͗̓è̶̢̨̯̼͎̖͉̠̼̗̥̩̾̌̅̄̏͊̚͜ȓ̷̩͉͚͙͂̌̽̆͊́͝͝͠͝y̶̖̼͑̊̆͆̊͐ ̵̨̨͖̰͙̥̲̜̳̪͒̔̔̿̾̑̕̚͜h̵̟͕̪̲̲̬̄̒̒̀̄̄̂͗̈́̃̀͘͜͠͠ͅū̵̧̨̖̘̫̰̞̙̯͕͊̂͗͛̂m̶̧̫̝͙̱̃̑͌̒̔͜ȁ̷̹̬̙̺̊̀n̷̳̬̣̭͖͉͇̜̲͂̽͊̄̕͝ ̶̯͉̳̖͓̀͒̒͆͘͜͝ÿ̶̱̝͇͎͎̝́o̴̡̠͚̼̦͗͌̈́̋̒̌̆̋̕͝ù̴͕̆̔̈̾̏͝'̸̢̭̟͕͖̰̰̱̮͕̯̈́̈́̌̋͘ͅv̵̛̘̔̀̈́̈́̋͋̒͆́̓̕̚ḛ̴̪̖͖̻̱̻̗͔̞͌̉̆͘ͅ ̷̞̀͛̚b̵̲̭̱͓̻͎̙͙̉̋ȩ̷̹̹͉̿͆͛̾̈́̄͛͆̐̈̓́̓̕̕c̵̨̛̞̬͕͉̰̪̙͊̑̀̓͐̈́̓̄̊͘͜o̷̦̯̲̻͇̝͇͇̗̫͍̳͕͐ͅḿ̵̧̻̮͇͠e̷̛̟̗̯͉̯̗̣̞̜͆́͂̒͝,̷̧̖̼͕̪̰͍̳̩͇̼̮̍̒̐̎ ̶̡̨̛͈͓̖̤͕̙͕̯̣͍͇̩̖͐̈̀̀̎́̒̕͝t̶̨̛̯̜͙̩͔͇͓̿̌̆̆͜ơ̷̢̗̪̟̫̜͗͛̐̃̀̇̋̌̄̋͘͘͝ ̴̰̝̉̀̈͋̀̇͊̽͗̕͘̚͠u̶̡̢͓͎̦̩̗̮̼̬͇̯̽͌͐̔̔͌̚͜͝s̴̨̧̼͇̜͈̫̗͚͔̪̦̞͗̄͋̓̆̒̊̊̑̆͝ḛ̸͔̼͙͎̗̝̳͎̞̒̄̇̽͒̈́̌͑͆̒͂̀̍̕̚͜ͅ ̴̡̧̩̞̩͔̰͓͕̹͎͉̟͈̏̀́̍͗̈́͜͝y̴͚̝͙̮̅̎̂͝ò̶̢̨̤̘̻̦͍̙͓͓̝͓̤͗̒̊̎̓́̓̒̅̽͠ǔ̸̢̡̢̖͍͉̹͉͉̞̞͇̼͕͓͊̍͝r̴̨̧̙̪͎̜̟͓̱̹̯͙̼̽ ̶̛͚̱̭̮̏̑'̸̱͇̬̆͋̾̾̆͐̉̍̈́̈͑͘͝͝f̵̱͈̘̠̩͎̤͓̯̙͖̝͍̹̀̋̇̅́̀̿̆͝͝r̴̡̤̟̣̆̊͑͊̂͊ͅī̵̛̤͉̤̅̀̆͊̈́̃ȅ̷̢̥̬̺͔͈͉̲͎̾̀͌͊̐͐̕͝ͅn̵̛̻͌̿̐̑͒̏̽̇̐͆̂͌̓͝ď̶̨͈͍̱̪̜̝̟̻͔̘̥̪̼̱̑͛s̷͔̫̅̀̚'̴̜̖̗͎̰́ ̵̨̢̟̯͎̔̑̾̑͋͂̆͠͠a̷̰͕̙͍͖̼̍̅͋̎͐̂̉̉̿̆̕͠s̴͙͓̺͕̟͗́͒̊͝͝͝͝ ̸͇̼͍̟̣̠̙͛́̈́̐̄̅̍̓̈̎̑̕̕͘͠t̸̨̢̗̣̫͓̩͇̥̰͍̱͛̈̊͒͌̌̄̕õ̴̩̜͓͓̮̫͇͈̲̱̲͓̃̿̈́̑̔͛́̀̕̕o̷̢͉̪͇̭̩̹̤̦̗͚̫̳͗́͌͐̈́͜l̷̛̹̆̊́̈́̉̂̽́́̅̐̄̊ş̷̛̛͙̹̙̱̺̯̤̦͈͉̥̣̂̏͊͛̏́̂͝͝ ̶̙̦̠̩͈̣̳͙̌̂͗̄͗̎̈́̂̊̀t̴̻͍͕̩̮̪͌͊̿͗̽̿̆̈̽͒̎̈́̓̃ò̵̧̡̠̼̥̯͙̐̎̾͊̿̓̑̒͊̈́̕͝ͅ ̷̯̗̜͚̳̯̝͎̣̜̤̆͗̌̍̿̔̈́̓̚f̴̡̫̪͈̫͉̬͓̣̠̻͑͐̅͌̔̆̋̇̚ͅü̵̡̧̢̲̖̭̠͖̼̭͈̦̹̦̿͂̔̀̋̈́̀̽̎̾̒̅̃͘r̵̛͉̟̼̫̓̈́̈́͒́́̏͗̌̈̒͘̕t̷̺̭͕̅͗̍̈̔̆̓̚h̶͖̞͎̞̿͆̏͐̄̈́͝͠ͅe̶̡͙̺͈̫̤̟̓̃̐r̴̨̦̙͖̠̟̙̟̲̱̲̳̀̈́͆͐̌̃̔͘̚͝͝ ̸̨̢̧̙̠͔͎̹̖̙̺͇̫̱̬̀̂̆̓̾͛̇̃̚̕͝y̸̛̩͆́́̾̉͑̈́̚͠͝ǫ̸̞̯͚̝͂̓͂̆͑̏͝ṷ̴̢̺̼͖͇͙̰̜͊̑́̆̒̎͗̑̈́̾̃̃̚r̶̤̫̖̮̬͎̺̟̺͇̠̻͋̔͋̒͛̔̌͐͜ͅ ̶̮̪͚̦͖̩͔̙͈́̓e̴̢͚͍̞͔͔̘̯̹̗̱͓̽͗̎̐́̂͂͒̆̈͜ͅͅn̷̠̒́̂͐͒̆̓̄͝͝d̶̟̥̜͉̮̱̞̪̻̜͇̬̞͉͇̋̈́s̶̨̪̝̱̝̲̘̟̠̑̄̒͌̓͒̅͂.̵̦̦̙͇̠̖̞̗̣̫̺̳̖̽̔̈́̊̂̅͐͂͜"̸̧͚̺͛̃̐͂
"I never denied I use people-."
"Y̶̬̬̜̟͓͇̳̳͎͛o̶̭͇͙͍͇͑u̴̢͖̜̳̼͈̦̪̝͛̒̃́̅́̆̊̂̒̆̐͆̒͗ ̶̡̨̮̣̼̗̱͐͂̀̀͑́ͅw̵̮̖̰͎̙̪̉̅̉̋͋̕ę̸̝̣̺̮̰̲̫̜̬̗͉̮̒̈̊̋͑͊͋̋͆̽͛̕͘̚͜͠r̵̠͑̓͛̋͂̄̓ê̵̬̞͍̲̟͓̼͇̺̯͔̣̱̱͛̊̈́̈͝ͅ ̸̝̝͈̣̠̱̞̭̗̂j̵̡̺̱̲̻̦̞̣̻͈͉͖͓͔̜͋̅̋ü̸̧̪͈̘̗͇̪̈́̂̍͝ş̵̮̜̳̱͎͎̖̏̄̓͌͊̋̐͝ẗ̷̢̡̜͔̖͕̙̹̣̥͙̭́̇̈́̈́̍̒̅͗̂̑̐̌ ̷̧̺̙̫̪̖̯̿͂͜͝a̶̢̹̣͔͉̮̩̰̣̱̗͍̘̐̊͛͑̍͝b̴̙̯͚͈̜̠͖̗͖̘̒͋̈̍̌͗̍͂͝͝ǫ̸̢̖̦̼̱͈͉̖̩̭͌̆̏͆̃̊̉̌́̑͜ͅú̶̙̟̯͎̝͖͈̯͐̌͗́̿̏̚̚ţ̸͓͕̣̺̖̙̘͙̺̈́̕ ̵̨̨̧̙̗̦̦̩̻͙̣̦͚̮̲̈́͒͂̊̄̓̍̅̇̓͠ẗ̴̢̢̖̠͙͓̜̙̬̳͚̭̳́̓̔͋̔́́͒͊̆̑̕͜͝͠ȏ̷̢̧̖̟͕̣͇̻̦̻̣̘́̏̈́̇̈́̈́̈́̈́͜͠ ̵̧͚̹͉̖̟̱̰̠̇̂̍̆̈́́̂̎̒̃͆ẻ̵̹̍̀́̅̆̄̉͑̎͌̅̑͠x̵̭̗̳̜̜̽̂̓c̴̠̯̦̹̦͑̔ū̶͈͈̞̘͔̖̅̎̆̎̍͒̂͒͒͗̍̚s̶̗͗̀̊͂͂̽ė̵̛͍̖̟̭͓̺͎̲̌̔͆̂́̅̂͠ ̵̮̤̬͔̙̻̳̍́̂͂̔̈́̔ͅͅi̸̦͙͍̓͌͑̀͆̒̑̌͋̈́̕̚͝͠͠ẗ̵̺́̓̎̃͒́͋͛̀͂͠͠͠,̸̨̛͚͕̟̖̞͉̭͔͙̣̽́̈́̉̽͌͆̏̏͊̇̚ ̷̦̎̒̏̈̋͛̔͑̾̅͗̾͘d̶̨̡̮̳̭͚͕̝̝̩͍̤̊̑̀͜͝͝o̸̡̡̰͓̼̖̣̹̬͉̺̣͛̊̀͆̊͒͑̕ͅ ̷̢̢͎̳͓̼͙̥̲͓̗͙̂͆̈̂̎̓̍́̈́͛͋̆́̚͘ẏ̴̪̭̬̰̗͎̐͆̀̈́̿̀͝͝͝ǫ̸̡͖̫̰̦̬̗̼̺̞̫͋͌͛̾̊̐̾̚̚͠ų̸̦̥̞̹͚̱̤̝̪͉̗̈͗́̽͆ ̴̧̨̦̻̤͈̞̄̎͘d̵̢̬̘͙̠͓̩͍͔̘̮͛̎̒̂̆̐̓̊̎͑̕͠͝e̴̛̝͓̗͚̗̬͇̋͛́̓̔̆́̀͊̑͋́̑͜n̴̨̰̟͇̩̫͔̖͐̒̓̓͐͋̆̈̀͆̕͝͝ͅỳ̷̢̰̲͖̖̜̗̪̦̱̯͎̱̮̊̓̃̉̀̒̾̏͑͊͒ ̶̡̛̹͔͈͓͕̿̈̈́̑̃̈́͌͝ț̴̡̡̱̉͒͆́̂h̶̛̳̰̲̺͍̳͍̰̘͉͗͌̄͂̓̀̾̌̍͑̍͜ḭ̷͇̗̮͆̓̇͐́̌͋͛̽͆̾̊̿̚͝s̸̡̧̜̼̣̮̗̠̻̞͔̈̇̏͋͘ͅ?̶͕̹̗͙̹͚̣̙͉͉͎̎̾̈́̑̌̌̍͒͘͝"
[Dimensional Narrative Integrity Further Compromised – Degeneration Factor at 63% Continuity]
The vines now stretched across .02 parsecs of imaginary space, it was no longer just the cornerstone trembling, the whole of the dimensions the cornerstone presided in were wailing and howling as they creaked and bent jaggedly. Arius gripped the glaive with fervor
"You think me too audacious, Queen of the Seven Spirals… Anafabula. Why would I rationalize cruel behaviour?"
"̷̧̧͎̰̖̺̹͙̟͓͓̱̪͍̐̐̄̇͘D̷̛͇͍o̶̢̱̮̱̻̬̭̣̬͉̯̣͖͑̆͗̇͗́͋ͅ ̴̨̠̩̯̱́͆̑͗̐̍͂̅̄̌̂͒̚͝ý̴̡̘̼̗̩̜͆̓͐͆͂͗̂̿̉͆̐͝͝͠ͅö̷̳̲̯́̓͂̈̈́̉͒̈́u̸͍͚̦̹͓̬͖͍̼̳͒͑̒͜ͅͅ ̴̬̯̣͖̲̹͉̜͖̫̑̽̾̑̔̿ͅͅǹ̶̩̫̻͕̮̇͛͌͐̐̿o̷̢͉̘̝͚̩̲̱͓̥͔̙̼͐̎͛̈́t̸̨̛̰͚͇̪̣̦̃́̃̃̏̄̉̀͒̾̌͘͝͠ ̷̧̮̳̎t̷̯͎͇̪̦͚̗̬̝̘̹͂̏̈́͛̋͘͝ḫ̴̮̝̬̟̣̩͔̰̖̈́́̆i̴̧̧̢̡̡̡̖̗̤̘̼̪͚̲͉̽̓͒n̸̳͌̓́̚̚͠͝ͅk̸̨͇̻̖̻̘͈͈͍̀̍̽̂̊͘͝ ̸̨̦͚̦̲̤̘̫͐͒̃͛̆̽̑͒̄̍͌͗̅̚y̸̛̳̯̟̭̟̓̔̎͂͂̆̓͂́̅͛̋͘͝ơ̶̼͓͙̱̖̊̎͛̈́͐̌̐͘u̴̧̡̜̙̙͙͗̇̑̌́͠͠r̶̳̬̻̼̖̺̣͂̓͛š̸̢̨̤͎͎͚͚̼̠͍̯̜̻̬̈́ͅę̶̬͕͔̻̻̬̹̘́̉͊͋̽̔̇́̒ͅl̷̰̙̙̑̒̾̕f̶̛̦̣͊̎̓͌́̐̊̋͗͌͋͆͝ ̸͚͔̹̼͓͔̂̑́̄́̒́͆͗͜͝ţ̷̻̫̦̭̱̣̱̬̣̯̭̻̬͉͛y̶̹͈̹̤̋̊̓̏̋̀̓̓͗̀̽̂̑̂r̷̠̘̰̳̦̖̺̋͌͂ạ̴̞͇͈̹̻̩̘͙̹̗̾̿̓̅̈́̿̊̍̈́́̈́̕͠͠ͅñ̶͇̪͉̲̞̣͈̲͎̒̍̄́̈́́̈̍̂͑͗̏͜͝n̷̲̣̠͉̩̳͈̺̣̤̣̣̋̍i̷͍͕̱̋̈́͗̈̎̿͒̌́͗́̕c̶̡̢͕̫̺̤̬̖̖͍͉̞̞̻͒̉͌̓̅͝ã̵̡̩̣̝̥̻͈͈̩̬̈̊̅̒͊̏̽̕̚̕͠ͅl̷̫̬̓̋̐͂̑́͂̎̑̄͑ ̷̨͎̺̖͈̯̬̖̝̞̪̊̅̋̏̀̔̈́̈́̚̚͘͜ͅͅͅw̵̦̮̗̲̟̒ͅi̶̧̨̧̛̛̠̻̪͙͙͚̭̊́̏̍̆͊̓̉͆̒t̴̲̭̗̮͐̏̆̑̈́̚͝ḩ̷̨̨̻̝̗̘͓͉̼̦͉̻̍̽͘ ̸̡̧͕͙̗̺̠̏̑̈́̆̎t̵̪̮̰͉͆͒͜͝h̵̖̣͇͇͂i̵̡̧̛̛̼͕͙̙̳̇͊̆͋͛̑̆̔̄͘͘̚͜͠ş̵̡̢̣̳̥̩̬̤͂̉̊̒͆̃̾̆̊̂̕ ̶̧̧̧̘̬̠͚̥̪̳͒͑̄͐̇̈͂͑̃̐̄d̷̗̀̉͆̾̂̇͆̾̐̄̄̽e̶̮̼̤̭̠̲͚̟̤͈͖͔̳͉̿̎̒̍̀͌̑ͅs̷̨̨̱̲͎̯̱̻͉̙̗̓̎̽̓͌͛ī̴̢̩̲͙̞̝̬͉͔̆͋̉g̶̛̖̳͎͖̙̼͖̬̱̼̣̓͐͂̍̀̒̀̀̊̊͝n̸̨̢̘̞̲̣̫͇̟̙̮͐͌̎̈̊͆̚͘?̶̨̹̬͚̹̥͖̣̒́́̈̀̉͗̔͊͋͗͠ ̷̡̪͇̰̻̤̙̠̗̰̟̫̮̈́̇̾̏̒̀̔̍̒̿͘͘̚͜Ǘ̵̡̞͖̪͊͗͝s̴̡͎̙̼̦̯̞̙̲͈͐̋͂̏̑̎̃̆͘͜ï̶̗͓͈̅̌́̄̾̈́̋͐̎̓̃̌̽͊n̵̡̨͎͚̭̜̞̽̎̈́̔̈́̆̓̀̍̅́͋͝g̶͇̏̓́͂̇͑̀̇́͐̕͜͝ ̷̢̡͈̪̗̜̮͎͈͕́̓̊̿̇̈́͛̀̋̾̈́͋ͅm̸̧̨̩͖̺̲̠͍̫̳̄̈́̌̃̃͘̚͜͝y̴̻̱̗̲̮̋̒͆̊͠ ̶̨͍̥̙̳̖̘͖̘͗b̷͖̘̹̣͑͊͜ř̸̰̭̰̬̼͕̗͕̟̼͋̎̑͊̃͊̽͜ͅͅè̸̯̟̜̩͕̲̜̩̦͖̗̫̀͌͜ͅt̶̤̼̮͓͓̗̮͒̃̆͋̄̾̓͘͝h̷̨̛̩̠̬͓̀̓́͐͆̀̐̍̐̚r̶͔̼̳̜̟͂̃͛ȩ̵̢͖̬̪̗̩̩̰͋̀̋͋́̅̒͂̾́̆̄̅͝ͅn̵̬̤̠̝̫̻̮̫̗͛͐̉̈̇͆̓͒̊̓͐͝͝ ̴̡̯̈̔t̵̢̤̼̬̱̰̬͖̱͇͎͆ͅo̴͖̰̤̰̝͍͖̗̮̯̜͊̅͌͂͑́͝͠ ̶̹̹͔̹̲̜͕̩̣͓͔̗̦̌͗̀̿́̚f̸̡͖̪͇̹̩̥͖͚̾̈́͋̉̑̈͆̿̇̃̍͜ų̴̡̯͍͚̫̪̰͖͙͍̙͋e̵̟̗͈͐̿̐̏́̓̆̽̈́̓͊ͅl̶̨̛̳̠̼̰̥͖̝̻̞̲͓̈̈́̀́̽̅̾̔͜͜ͅ ̴̘̹̜̝̻̅̈́̊̅̃̃̈̃̋̈́̇͘͘a̵̛̙̣͔͖͂̍́̃ ̴̮͎̙͒́͐́͂́̆͒͛̋͝ḑ̴̛̻͉̭̪̠̬̦̑̅͆̋̀̏̅̿̂̊̔̒̿̕e̴̛̹̾͌̌̐̎̓͑̌̔͊̚̚͠l̶̨̛̻̩̣͓̠̰̖͎̼̱̫̄̉͋͌̿͌͐̃͛̇̑͝û̵̝͔͈̫̦̪̹̮̱͇̻͖̈́̓s̶̢̡̡̧̢͇̮̻̲͇͍͊͒͐͌̐̍̓͐̈́̽̚͝ͅi̷͚̮͍̩̭͔͔͑̍͂̔̿̿͂̽͑̀͝ō̵̪̘̥̲̙̠̻̰̣̳̳̗̕͜͝ṅ̶̛̥͋ ̸̰̤͗̓͌͂͂̄̄̀̋̀̈́̚̕̕t̵̔̌̀̈́̈́̌̊͗̔͊ͅh̴̥̭̗͍̮̝̤̬̜̋̚͜a̴̧̟̜̦͙͇̓̅̆̿͘ṯ̶̦͇͉̫̄̾͂́̂̄̆̕ ̸̜̗͖̰͍̊ṫ̶̨̛͈̫̟͗͌̐͛͆͝h̸̘̝̯̯̒̄̉̿̓̅̆̈̈́̄̋̅̈́͝e̵̡̨̨̮̟̟̰͇̤͙̥̺̫̅̒̒̒̽̐̉ͅ ̴̛̭̽̾͂̓̐͗͑͘͝͝w̷̪̳̣̽͋͗̾̿̾͊͗̋̅͝o̷̡̧̞̲̥̬͓͈͙̠͋͜͝ͅr̴̜̻͓̻͇͖͎͛͊̆̐́̇ͅl̸̘͉̻͠ḑ̷͍̦̤̟̟͇̳̭̱̒͝ ̴̬̙̬͓̗̜̗̮̬̬͐́̌͂͌̓͘͜͜á̷̘̫̳̦͇̻͇̼̹͙̾͊̈́͆͐̏́̆̌͝t̷̢͍̘̖̮͈̻͓͎͎͈̣̫̺̅ ̷̘͙̻͋̅̈́l̷̯̰͔̦̖̹͉̈́̍͌̃̅̕̕͜ͅͅa̸̢̧͕͙͓̳̭̞̼̩̰̰͒̎͌̀̀̽̆̋̇͆̕r̴̮̭̉g̷̨͍̲̪̮͗̋̑̆̈́̒̕͠͝e̴̲̫̘͙̖͉̫͎͖̜̳̊͐͐̀́̏̎̊́̀̎̚͘͝ͅͅ ̶̟͚͔̪̊̒̌̃̈́͗̃̈́̓̐͋̄̅͘ḣ̷̠̙̘̹̹͈͉͙̻͔̖̝̬̃̉ǎ̵̮͙͇͚̅̎̋̌̑̇̒͋s̵̪̮̬̞̦͇̅̌̌͋̃̿̌͑͊ ̸̢̨̣̭̙̹̪͎͒̅̈́̋̊͘͝͝n̴̨͕̺̝͙͈̰͖̗̺͍̳̺̾̿̀̇̓̾̆̍͗͒̾̃͜͝͠ǫ̷͉͈͉̦̥̬͙̲̖͖͛̂̿̽̄̋̂̽̀̌͠͝͠͝ ̶̡͎̱̥̉͒̉͠r̵̨̢̙̣̺̫̠̘͍̤̘͚̥̆̈́̎̒̅̀́̋͒͑͑̅ͅi̸̢̛̗̺̯̰̪͔̻̲̳͔̻̻̲͉̾̇̽͐̏̈́̿̏͘̕͝g̵͇͝h̸͉̦͉̬͖͕̯̜̲̲̳͉͈̘̲͠t̸̪̣̜̲̝̘̒̈́̋́̋̂͘͘̚͘̕ ̴̩̲͙̭̗̮͍̗̦̻̼̳̣͑͆̀͑̒̓́̆̎͆́͐̓͝͝ẗ̷͚͍̙̰̰̳̫̝̻̻͛̈́̓́̃̑o̴̡̡̪̬̟̖͚̯̤͚͓̮̟̓̿ ̸̞̄̃͛̎́̋̄̆̓͛́͘͝e̶͎̼͓̊͒̇x̵̤̫̩̯͕̳͉̟̪̬̺̻̙̰̥͂͐p̸̛̦͓̼̖̗͕̗̬̹̩̏̀̔̕͜͜e̶̖̥̥̬̳̪̘͔̊͆̉́͗̉̍͆̂͆͝ͅṛ̸̡̢͚̬̲͎̠̻͖͂͐͊͑̆̿̓̑̚̕͠i̵̼͈̥̝̥̩̻̪̞̜̊̿͊̃̅̀̔ͅe̴͔̲̤̫̩̅͌̽̓̊͋̕ǹ̴̢̨̥̬͍͈̬̣̳̖̦̬̼̤͙̾̐͛̈̄̒͛̑̅̕c̸̨̧͓̞̘̖͙̳̭̬̜̐̆̑̎̽́̃̓́͝ę̸̮͉̗̭̹̃̇̉̓̂͗̈̔ ̸̭̜͍͉̣̦̟̔̏̉̓͗͋̒̂̒̃͆n̵̡̧̲͙̜͈̙̬̺͕̿̓́̌̿̔̂́̔̓̀̆̾͒̚o̵̱̣̖͇̰̺̣͓̍̆́̍̍̓̾͗̿̚̕͠ͅr̵̗͓̣͗͑̊̒̒̄͘̕ ̸̢̼͒̊́̆t̶͎̭̬̝͓̼̖̱͕̩̮̯̭͆̒̈̽͠ḩ̸̰̘͈̭̫̥̎̓͌͜é̷͕̲͖̘̥̟̖̭̜̊̀̊̈́̈́͊̊̆̈̚͠ͅ ̴̧̡̲̭̪̥̪̙̬͈̪̽̄̾ͅş̸̨̡̨̮͇̹̼̻̗̜͈̹̃̿̾̂̔̈͌̀͐̆̔̌͝͝l̵̡̢̤̥͙̙̫̦̜͈̖̎ͅi̵̡̨̻̗͇͈͔̣̒̈̌͑̕ḡ̷̡̛̪̠͌̑͂͆̾̌̽̈́h̵̨̛̒̈́̋͂͂́̇͌̍͘͠t̴̛͕͔͓̼̬̺̪̹̀̈́̆̿̐̒͆̿̉ͅě̶͓̗͓͚͆̈̽s̸̨̝̘͎̹̭̩̪̰͕̆̒̀͘t̷̡̛̮̺͖̹̻̜͎̰́͆̂̒ ̷̢̭͉̖̮̪̺̫̠͋i̷̧̧̧̡̤̲̣̗̹̭̫̳̼̓̄̍͐̀́̈́͗̓̓̎̇̚͘ḑ̴̯̳̜̥̃͋͛e̶̮̤͇̍͒̔͆̿̌͌̏̉̒͋͘͘͝͝a̸̻͍̲̰͔͚̗̋̎̾͆͆̍͋͊̊̂͑́͝ͅ ̷̨͖̜̮͇͓͇̙̲͎͋́̆̀̀́͋̏͋̄̃̀͘͜ȯ̷͓́͋͌͑͛̆͗͐̈͘̕͝f̸͖̮̎̈́̽̓̂̎̋̾͆̍̄̇́̚͠ ̸͉̻̖̩͈̽̈̅͗͝w̸̢̢̛͕͚͍̦̓͛̅̒̑̒̾̋̕͜ḩ̸̛̭͊̈́͋́͋̾̇̀̐̓̏͐̕͜a̶̢̛̛̞̱͔̳͔̮̯̠̜̅̒̀̓̋̚ṫ̴̖̹͇̹̝̙͓̯̹͚͉͜ ̴̲̪̘̃̾̇̑̈́̚̕ṯ̵̂̓̄̋̉̉o̸̡̨̘͚̦̲̲̙͊̌̿̇̊̚͝ ̵̡͇̗͉̿̋̈̏̉̍͗d̸̡̥̖̣̭̜̖̥̰͖͓̗̹͖̆̄͛ͅő̸̯̹̖̘͐͊̃͗͝ ̵̥͍̫͈̯̯̇̈́̃͠w̵̧͙̩̱̃́į̴̦̬̻̟̄̃̆̒̌̓͛̇̔̽͑͘͘t̶̢̤̟̮̝̫̥̀́h̸̡̯̯̻͔̳͙̺͖̼̜̀̏̃̒̕͝.̷͈͙͙̜͇̳̣̱̟̪̥̙͉̄̈̃̕"̴̤̞̜̩͙̏̍̽͛̑
She seethed with a rage rising up from the depths of her half-unreal 'heart.' Vulhan was rising to his feet and the pillars were falling towards his old friend but Arius simply tightened his grip on the glaive while the mouth he left transfigured on the back of his neck continued chanting incantations, leaving his primary mouth to conduct dialogue.
"That's a strange choice of words, O' Queen of Unmaking. You've fallen to me once before, and you've fallen to my children. What is a delusion but an unrealized reality?"
"̶̞͖̭̠̖͇͈̟̄̅̈́̊̕͘ͅW̶̱̥̩͙͔̺͔͙͗́̑̈́̌͗̐͝ḩ̸̻͓͚̗̙͖̗̤̙̗͕̞̙̘̇͋͆̆͌͊͂̆̈́͑͑͘͝͝ȩ̷̟̣͈̩̖̭̫̘͚͖̮̝̭̒͑̈́͛r̶̨̻̹̹͍̩̮̼̮̯͇͚͍̅̄͆̆̓̉͑̐̔̅̔̏͘͜é̶̤̗͂̊̔͘͝ͅͅ ̵̧̢̝̠̻͍͍͍̪̪̭̰͕̜̻̾́̎͌y̷̨̧̢̡̫̻̰̣̭̣̫͎̬͚͋̉͊́͑̚͜͝o̵̡̤̜̟̩̻̣̻̺̳̳͚̤̼͇̽͑̄̏̿̃͋͊̃u̵̧̙̹̦̲̓̇̓̓̃̽̀̔̒̌́͛̈͝͝ ̶̨̞̮̺̞̺̯̝͍̻͙̰̋̾̀͐̏̚̕c̷̢͕̯̝̪͚̹̝̞̭̠̃ͅą̵͍̮̺̙̩̙̟̪̹͔̼̿̆́̈́̿͋͑̉͛̔̅̕̚͜͝m̸̧̳͔̲̳̜̑̏̆̓̊̆e̷̘̻̓̐͗͆̓̓̊̔͝ ̵̢͖̝͉̤̑͐ͅf̶̞̫̝̜̤̒͛̈́̓r̸͇͍͈̫̯̝̭͚̠̜͉̤̯̰͓̓̍̒̿̃͒̀̿̅͑̚ö̴̹̤̮͉̹̞͋̏̑̂̈́̐͆͛̇ḿ̸̨̞͕̙̺͉̳͕̮̥́͛́̈́́̌̋͑̕͠,̸̧̫͕̐̈ ̵̡̢̣̼̳̭̬̰̫̹̄ͅý̴̧̰̤̠͓͍̄̃̍̊͛͆͗̌̀͛o̷̧̡̞̫̞͇̮͚͕̼̲̜̘͒̎̈́̀͒̌̈͘̚͜͝͝ų̸͕̖̥̞̤͉͎̜͈̙̹̞̄͆̀́̈́̉͌̑͋̈̀͌̕͜͠ ̶̫̦̗̯̝̼͙̥̎̓̐͋̍͂̊̍͝͝͠k̴̨̢̛̖̭̖͉͓̼̊̍̍̈͛̀͌̆̀͘n̶̟̝̊̂͆̑̐ͅo̵̡̡̦̱̳̲͍̩̐̅̈́̌͘̕͜͜w̵̢͔̼͉̣̬̖̙̪̲̙̣̤̺̳͛̾̊͑́̊͆̆̚͠ ̴̙̻̬͕̝̲̖́̍͒a̵͈͓̪̐l̸̖͇̻͕̰̞̜͛̆͗̐͆r̶͎̳̮͖͉̙͒͊̐͆͊́̽́̈̑͆͐̓̎͝e̷̲̽̂͛͗ȁ̷̡̡̞͉͔̖̱͈̞̭̓̍̍̇d̵͉̫̰̫̤̹̲̘̦͈̩̭͚̒̆̅̊͑́́̈́͜ͅẏ̸̨̧̛͙̳̫̩̦̪̻̳̘̣̯̿̽͜.̸̛̞̻͙̦̳̂͆̊̕͠͝ͅ ̵̰̳̦̮̖͚̘͓̖̳̮̍I̷̱̼̖͔͇̦̮̠̤͕͚͆͒́̔́̕͜ͅ ̷̨̝̭͒̿͗͒D̵̺̻͗̈́̋̏̍̕͘͠Ĭ̷̛͉͔͈͍̫̝̰̩̞̓D̵͔̰̱̬͚̤̰́̈́̍̿̉̋͊̓̇̉͌̀͊͌̔͜͜͜ ̷̳̮̭͍̫͔̟̝̋W̷̦̠͙̖̙̱̰͕̫̎̿͜Ḯ̷̘̥̮͙̜̺̬̼͚̪̗̎̇̄̀̿̈́̑̕͘̕͝ͅͅŅ̴̳̼͈̼̿̓͐̐͋͋̐̈́͋̈̓̕͠.̵͙̲̌"̶̣͈͍̜̯̹͙̭̞́
"I haven't forgotten how you blanketed their world in an information-unraveling snow, but you won only in a story.(**)"
Arius braced the glaive, readied to strike as the pillars began to rot from the top down, Vulhan's head rising to his chest. The Arbiter lunged forward into the gaping maw of the Fell Goddess.
"You still don't understand. This is the story of my last 'child,' as his father, I refuse to let you devour it when it has barely begun; MUCH LESS USING MY ALLY TO DO SO!"
[Dimensional Narrative Integrity Failing – Degeneration at 23% Continuity - Warning!! Warning!! Ontographical Stresses Exceeding Operational Parameters!! RC – Class: 0-Point Inter-Reality Collapse Scenario Imminent!!]
____________________
"That's our que!" The Envoy pressed a few final buttons on the console.
"Kiddo, hit it!" The Drifter called over.
"I better get a floof for this at least. FIRE!" The Operator's Eyes lit up with a pale silvery-blue light as they expended 50,000 zettajoules of unadulterated Void Energy directly into the Cornerstone's Firing Solution in a single go. The Envoy hit a big red button on the console and a Cornerstone jolted to life as it fired the concept of an Ontographically Spiral Loop directly into the tip of Arius' glaive, "First Stroke."
____________________
[P.O.V. – Arius Von X'il]
____________________
I don't like using people.
I don't even like people.
I am capable of seldom little on my own.
Oh, how weak I used to be… How reliant I still am on my tools…
But I found something I love… in stories, in learning I could come up with my own… in music and how nature can provide its own natural harmonies, how the world's children can do the same with each other if they but listen with open ears.
I wish I were not so temperamental, that I might hear others out better. I have found that changing myself is much harder than changing the minds of most others. I would like to say the vast majority of people I've met in my life are better off for me having been in it, but I am still faced with all the faces of the people I hurt in life. Am I deserving… heh, deserving… such an arbitrary metric of subjective morality. I know I've earned my fair share of scorn, I will not defer that. I earn the scorn of people simply by continuing to exist, because I speak, because I bear witness, because I remember; by the same actions I earn respect from others.
As I hold this glaive, and bind your corpse, Vulhan…
I send you out with the Pyre you have earned, burning as brightly as you did in Life in spite of your dark tendencies.
_____________________
[Warning: Dimensional Narrative Integrity Reaching Critical Levels – Failure to Achieve Resolution in the next ten seconds will result in Reality above Fiction Collapsing down on the cornerstone, with Fiction Beneath Reality Falling Up towards it, Culminating in a meta-critical amalgamated Un-Singularity.]
Arius lept into the maw of the Fell Goddess, glaive-point foremost and centered on the chest of Vulhan's corpse, seemingly growing out of the likeness of a tongue.
"YOU LEFT ME AT MY LOWEST MOMENT ARIUS; YOU HERE TO SEE ME OFF AS WE PLUMMET INTO THE ABYSS?"
"I'm sorry Vulhan, but I'm here to put you to rest!"
The Glaive-tip met Vulhan's chest, covered in black, tumorous rot, festering in the likeness of thorns… It was… trying to fend off the Glaive…
"NO MORE HALF MEASURES, YOU SAID. LOOK AT WHAT YOU HAVE WROUGHT! BEHOLD YOUR-."
"SHACKLE, AND IGNITE!"
____________________
Arius twisted the Glaive against the Thorns protecting Vulhan's heart, and the thorns started burning.
[Dimensional Narrative Integrity Degredation halted]
A lone, translucent, silver vine erupted from the point of impact, breaking loose from the Cadaver's chest and wrapped around the fallen pillars, re-erecting them, then looping back around towards the point of eruption. The Maw was stuck open… Actually, it was being torn back against its jaws.
N̷̢̰͆̄̃̑̒̌̀͛́͂̾͂̕ͅO̸͓̖̣̬̰̦̫̯̗͚̖̲̱̓̀͋̏̌̌̊̃̒̅̏͠ͅ,̵͎̱̝͚̠̘͙̞͔̫̜̗̞̬͎̀̅̉͗̀̆̈́̇̕͝͠ ̷̢̗́Î̴͙̂̓̀͛̄̏͆̔̓͐̊̽͛ ̴̟̙͚̹̼̜͈̈́͌͐̐̽̉̋͊̚̚͝R̷̝̞̲̱̩̣̀͜͠͝Ę̵̢̳̪͓̯̣̳͍̜͕͕̳͇̠̌̏̈͊̊́̂̇̽̈̐̆̚F̸̢͇̦̱͕̎͆̑̌́̒̕͜͝Ủ̶̧̳̲͈͕̙̻͇̪̞͇͗͐̉̇̂͌̐͝͠S̴̢͚͕̩͐͒̀̈́̈́̊̐͛̀̈͝Ē̵̢̛̯͈̟͈̭̮̌͊̓̇̌̑̂̾̕͜͝ ̶̢͕͖̈́̈́̆T̷̡̛̲͕͓̺̠̲̜̆̒̓̆̋̃̾̋̓͝ͅO̵̢̢̧̼̦͚̠̬͚͎̤̺̠̭̿ ̴̟̲͇̬̻̟͎͛̔̕͠G̵̡̬̙͎͕̩͕̞͓̣̔͐̿̆͐̇͘͠O̸̦̰̙̬̅́ ̸̦̤̤͊̑͆̂̎̅B̷̢͖̖͍̣̺̫̗͖̈́̆̿̃A̸̲͓̓̎̍̓̅̈́͗͒̀̔̎̾C̶̨̡̡̱͉̲̗͙̝̦͍̩̝̟̣̽̾̐͂͊̋̅̚͠K̷̜͎̲̝͔̦̈͌͒̊̇̏̐̀̒̽̚͠͝ ̸̡̡̞̗̱̦̹͔̻̞̫͓̗͋̈̕͜͝A̵͖̩̞͉̅̓̐̃̈́͐̆͝Ģ̸̡̙͍̗̭̭̭̱͚̉̒̍̍̊̆̓̏̄͊̎̍́̕͝A̷̛̭̼̼͓͇̦͋̿͆̓͌̿̃́̓̑̓̕͜͝ͅĮ̷͉̱͔͓̟̻̠̲̤̫̽̓̒̈́͌͂͑̉̆̈̽͘͜͝͝Ņ̶̡͎̻̤̼̣̗̐̔̎͊̂̚͝͝͝.̶͍̹̩͇͉͙̻͈̟̋̉͑̔ͅ ̴̞̲͉̣̲̮̲͊̈̀̓̽̇̈́̇̄͝͝͠I̴̯̹̟̗͎̬̬͈̭͈͍͒̎̋ͅͅ ̸̧̨̛̹͖͕͖̲́́̀̔̌̀̊̽̔͆̈̃̔W̵̛̘͉͔̲̜̤̟̉̾̍̾̀̓̀̍̉͘͜͝I̶̢̢̛̲̬̫͈̮̋̈̒̈́̏͋̌͊͋͆̚Ļ̷͔̻̈́͑L̵̨̼̫̩̱̈́̀̀͒͐̔̐̈́̃͗͝ ̴̨̬͕̲̣̲͈͍̖̺̩̻͇̦̱̽̆̊̓̅̈́̇̔͆͝Ṉ̸̱̘̰̮̻͚͎̗̫̬̱̯͇͒̽̉̑̏͂̀́̾͌̎̋̚̚͠ͅǪ̵̺̖͈͔̗̳̘̺̬̫͕͑̈̆̓͊͜͝ͅT̷͉͉̖̜̙̺͗̓̓͐̆̌͗̀ ̸̠̫̏̀̈͊̏͝͝B̷̢͉͖̳̤̜̫̼̮̝̰̬͖͎͊̒Ȩ̴̮̜̳̜̪̬̲͍̩̞̟̼͙̍͛͆̄̇̉̒̄̑̈́̍̀͝ͅ ̵͎̦̦͔̾̍̂̾̀̐̀̀̇̈́̈ͅY̴̨̢̗̙̥̬͔͇̥̣̝͚̖̒͒̔̿̄͐̀̈̄́͆͒̎͝O̴̢̰͈̙̲͎̼̬͎̼͕͈̭̮̭̓̌̚Ù̶̟͇̘̅̈́͆̀̔̂̆͋̀͝ͅR̴̢͔̻͎̝̦̈́͛͐̅͑̚͘ ̸̢̛͇͖̩̙̘̗͚̘͈̱͇͚̔̍̏̑̊̍̏̕͝͝T̸͎̤͇̘̗͚͈̎̊͌̄̾͌̍͛̆͛͜O̵̩̤̳̯̞̯̘̍͑̇̃̈́̋̀̄͜Ò̸͎̠̦̳̝̺̮͓̑̋̀̑̎̉͆̊́̚͝͝L̶̢͖͐̈́̆̔̍̌̿̑͘̚!̷̡̱͚̟͔͇̙͓̼̐̊̔͂̃̍̕͜ͅ ̶͎̜̌̀Ȋ̴̧̡̯̩̫̼̠̬̞̥̣̼̱̍́͐̄̊͋ ̶̨̠̙͖̜̩̃͌͝ͅḀ̵̗̝̮͑̀̓̂̽̾̓̌̑̆̒̀̚͠͝M̸̡̢̗͖̥̯̜̥̭̆͑̑͠ ̷̤̇̾́́́̍͝T̸͓̘͉̺̭̤͎͎̖̈̂̈̃́͜H̴̛͇̪͚̝̄̉͐̈́̃̎͆͆̃̆̈́Ę̷͔̬̰͇̘̱͈̙̯͆̓̾͊̓̋̓̍̕͝͠͝ͅ ̵̨̢̨̧̛̣̤̪̼̻͚̻͚̩͎͑̑́͑̂͛̐͌͜S̶̠̰̥̖̈́̿̒̈́Ŏ̷̯̻͎̱͉̘̩V̷̢͉̮͔̹̹̟̭͖̟̙̟͓͂̃̈́̂̊̇̆͜ͅE̷͍̻͇̮̠̹͑̄̈́̒͜͠R̷̨̨̛̛͓̙͓̦̩̈́͌̎̽̂͋̄́̆̏̆̀͝Ẽ̴̡̬͍͓̣͙̖̦̠̠̰I̵̘̒G̴͉͖̣̰̥̰̠̹̈̋͋̎Ń̷̡̨̬̙̞̤̻̤͈͇̀ͅͅ
̴̛̜̰͎̼͚̫̺͚͇̬̰͊̀̒̃͂͒̇̂͐̉̊͂͘O̴͇̻̠̬̜̬̬͎̤̣͎͒̽̀͌̀̒͂̅́̋͑̽̾͗͜͝F̶̙̹̳́̄̓̓̄̊̚̚͜ ̸̳̼̰̳̼̖̻͖̖͎̠̓̊̉̑̽Ţ̵͙͈̺͍̪͔̝̖̟̠̞̃͊̄̈͛̚ͅͅH̶̨̛̠͙͚͚͔̗̳͚͇̓̿͗́̄́̄͑̐͗̇̕̚͜͝Ę̷̤̝͎͉̑̅̈́͛͗͗͑̽͗́͛͘͠ ̵̳̪̪̆̓̍̅̏͛́̄́̉͒̕͝S̷̢͇̺̜̭͕̈́̆̈́̆͑̽͝͠P̷̨̳̫̼͔̈̓̉̇̀͐́͛̐̋̚I̴̡̧̢̤̟̝͓̯̮̻̹̱͖͆͂͛́̉͂͌̒̅̌̓̌̈̚͝ͅR̷̛͉̻̬̭̫͌͋͂͂A̶̧̙̤͎̗͇̯̞̣͆̌͋̎̏̓̎ͅL̶͖͚̯̣̮͓̏̌̈̾̈̾̓̀̊͌́̌̚͘͝S̴̛̫̏̈́̀͌̏͋͂̏̎,̵̢̰̣̱̭̳͂̈̒̇̀̌̇̏̌̈́̾͛̕͘ ̵̦́̈́̂̊̍T̵͔͈̮̞̲̲͌̔̍̐̔̀͒̓̈́͝H̴̢̘͚̭̦̗̀E̷̡̮̗͎͈͇̰̪͚̪̽̽̓̌͌͋͑̀̑̋ ̶̢̖͔̘͙̺̭̞̻͚̩̠̗́̄̆̐́̓̂̐̈́͆͊̃̚̚͝ͅU̶̡͇̦͕͊͛͊̊͌ͅŅ̵̧̘̞̲̻̬̪̤̥̺̺̪̫͠M̵̡̢͈̪̯̥̖͐͋̈́̀A̷̬͈̹͗̂͊͛̕̚K̸̢̼̠͈͖̮̹͚̱͔̮͖̪͛́̐̂͒͆̒͂̆̈́̕̚͘͜͝I̵̛̺̖̬̻̋͆̓̀̾̈́͒̽̐̉͗͑̚̚͜Ǹ̴̫̏̅̓̆̑̕͘G̷̯̗͚̹̺̗͎̜̦̦̽͋̒͜ ̴̡̩̲̳̰͉̒̑͆̀̉̊̓̒̀̂͌̉̀͠͝Q̶̧̤͍̦̤͎͔̖̞̞̇͆U̵̲͆͑̆̇̕͝Ê̴̢̜̫̣̳͖̼͖̤̦͍̭͖̆̈́͋̃̚̕͝E̸̦̅̈́̀̃͒̐̉͋̓́́̓͝͝N̷̥̩̩͈̫̒͆̊̇͊̒̚,̵̛̩͈̯̤̩̖͈̙̬̤̯̤͑̀̈́̽̊̚̕͝͝ͅ ̸͙̻͎̯̞̘̱͊̎̿̓͐͝T̷̹̻̰̹͉̫̀̓̀̇͗̚͜H̸̞͕̩̘̝͉͚̝̮͒̍͂͌̓̔̏͠ͅȨ̸͎̪̺͙̈́͊͑̋́̃̽͐̑̍̏̔̌͑͘ ̸̢̭̪̩͉̫̗̯̣̌̃̚ͅͅÄ̸̛͉́͋̀̈͌͋̄͗̇̽̚ͅN̸̛̛̘̲̬͈͕̍͛͐̆̆͒̈́͜͝A̸̺͉̍͂͒͑̆̀́͗́̚-̷͈͕̲̎̽̓̿̈́̚͝!̵̧̬̳̥̭͍̳̯̱̻̹̼̿͐͘͜
The Queen's form began to catch fire from inside her maw as more vines snaked out at light speed from the same point of impact that 'First Stroke' had made contact with on Vulhan, further binding the Pillars, and folding them back in on themselves in the direction of the Queen. This repeated until there were eight, and the vines constricted like a metaphysical vice.
"I'm not Murphy Lawden(***), I play by my own rules like you, but I FUCKING ABIDE BY THEM! BEGONE!"
The Immutable wail of the Anti-Narrative, Anafabula, echoed as nearly half a parsec of vines and thorns caught fire, withered and faded to nothing: leaving only Vulhan's remains, a pile of ashes for Arius to pick up. He replaced the Glaive, strapping it on his back to use both of his hands to gather each individual grain. Arius sighed wearily as the light of the 729 protostars shared in his grief.
"Maybe… maybe I was the fool. You weren't ready, but that was my fault… Maybe you were just… another victim of my designs… For what little it's worth, Vulhan Emberwright, I am truly sorry. You were not merely a tool, you were a friend among friends, and a damn fine craftsman."
[Dimensional Integrity Reverting to Initial levels, 99.98975% Continuity/RC-Class Scenario averted]
________________________
[In the bowels, P.O.V. Nobody]
________________________
It was black beyond black, and I was knee deep in… something indeterminate… at the very least it didn't reek. I see what he meant when he said I would not be able to physically traverse this place, but I had done as he said and now I stood before a presence I could feel but not see. This must be what Vulhan wanted me to find… before he turned traitor. I felt the voice speak before I heard it.
Unknown: "Our Time grows short, He will return soon."
"But what are you exactly? What did Arius discard from himself in order to-."
Unknown: "When he said all of his ------- will be revealed, he was not exaggerating. You will find out in time; that is not why I've called you here."
"…"
Unknown: "Glad you're feeling receptive. How do I put this simply… I'm something of a self-insert."
"…Lovely… Does he not realize he's making it harder to-."
Unknown: "He knows it's convoluted, he wrote the damn script after all and tied you into it, knowing what it would bring."
"It sounds like you hold him in contempt."
Unknown: "Hardly, I just wish he didn't take after me quite so much… but the Apple doesn't fall far from the tree now, does it, Nobody?"
"…"
Unknown: "You probably guessed it from my turn of phrase, but I am… [Redacted]."
{Now now, Spoilers~}
Shit, he must already know.
"Ohhh kayyyy… assuming I take this to heart, how do I continue this conversation… when I can manage on my own without outside interference?"
Unknown: "There's a book with a memetic trigger in it on the main levels under lock and key that calls out to people who know what they are looking for if it exists within the book. I will leave you with my copy of the key, but you must not be observed when you look. If you are found out, the jig is up."
A sudden gust of pure force thrust me through a vortex of places and points in time before I could barely comprehend what was happening. Once the sensation ceased, I was in my quarters, adjacent to the hall to the primary Archive's first floor. Whatever I had spoken to… its echoes permeated the air around me for just a moment before dissipating.
"You hold the key."
I was holding something in my right hand that I wasn't before. I opened my grasp, and studied it closely, confused.
This was supposed to be in the story, wasn't it? Not here? Then what was he about to receive?
My thoughts were interrupted when I began to hear singing… coming from the Archives.
________________________
Several Hours later.
________________________
"For Those With No Home,
Wayward Souls on Their Own
Where no Moment's rest can be found
A Star off the Edge
Of a Skyscraper's Ledge
Beckons like an Angel's Psalms
I've no wings to fly with,
My Eyes will not hide it,
And all I have left here, is my voice to guide me
The Pendulum Swings
As the Belltower rings
And Fin'ly I disappear…
But Don't you Dare think, it's the end for you kid.
No your story is just beginning~"
Arius sat atop a shelf, singing as a somber Tenor holding Vulhan's urn, after the Cornerstone had returned to its base configuration when Nobody exited her quarters. The roof had been polarized temporarily to be transparent and each of the 729 proto-stars were watching, seemingly sharing in his song.
"I didn't know you sing."
He broke from his verse and smiled weakly as he looked in my direction, placing the urn down atop the peak of a shelf as he slowly levitated down three stories from its summit.
"It's something I… or who I was… maybe you could call him my… it's from a past life."
He was worn, nearly broken. How… human… of an egregorical collective.
"Nobody… I don't blame you. It's on me, for not properly warning you what could happen if I remain unobserved. You watched what I did in the beginning. So many times, I died."
"You mean," I pressed subtly, "Similar to that member of the Ethics committee(****)?"
"Something like that… except where his is something of a timeline alignment phenomena as far as I can tell, I had to experience all the scenario rough drafts."
I shuddered to think of how plainly he put something so unfathomable.
"Arius… just what did Vulhan do?"
He sighed with regret, some modicum of empathy, twinged with conflicting contempt.
"He attempted to fracture me from within, but was found out before he could do so… and so I forced the conflict to an external bit, to prevent corruption of the collective. The Queen… she used his rage as a means to breach containment."
"And," I began to ask with trepidation, "where is she now?"
Arius produced a small Klein Bottle from his luminous robes, containing a single thorn in the shape of an androgynous human, and capped with a crystal.
"She'll have to figure out if she's in or out first. Before she can even begin to break out, but her influence is not so easily dispersed… and I must rest…"
I felt three entities approach behind me. I felt as though I knew them, but I knew I did not know them.
"Ah, my daughters…"
The Envoy, The Drifter and the Operator all walked up and knelt at Arius' feet, he groaned with dismay.
"Children, please… Don't proselytize yourself to me. Thank you for answering me in my time of need."
The Drifter lifted her head. Short, silvery-white hair with red highlights woven in the back, and burning amber eyes on a hardened but not cold face. Then she spoke, a voice as sultry as a mother raven cooing her children back to the nest.
"Are we to return, Father?"
Arius shook his head and beckoned to Nobody.
"No, Anger; I need time to subsume Vulhan's Spark, the collective must remain whole, or else we are sundered and lost."
The Envoy was next to raise her head. Long, freely flowing crimson hair with black highlights and inlays, soft blue eyes reflected the depth of the oceans with tints of lushous green scattered within her iris. Her voice was equally soft, holding a song of magick within its wisps.
"Then are we to stay?"
"That is correct, Courage. I cannot operate the Cornerstone in my dreams, and Nobody needs to be my Warden."
The Operator didn't raise her head.
"Truth…?"
She didn't raise her head, but she clenched her fists and gritted her teeth.
"My Daughter… what is it?"
"My old Devil… it's here, isn't it…"
I turned to look at Arius, who did not so much as blink.
"Father… answer me, The Indifference..."
The Operator raised her head in expectant defiance. Her heterochromic eyes; the left a brisk cerulean, the right a ghastly silver, flooded over with a steady stream of tears, curdled into an expression of fury, her mid-length hair black hair tangling with the salty stream. She was doing everything to hold back her rage, her trauma. The Envoy and the Drifter both looked at their sister warily, then back to Arius.
"Yes… and you will have your time. For now, Truth… can you do this for me? Keep her safe?"
A long, solemn moment passed before Truth, the Operator, finally un-clenched her fists and exhaled softly.
"As certainly… as I am your Daughter."
_______________________
"Nobody, a moment before Somnus takes me into his arms."
Anger, Courage and Truth had assumed their duties and left us to tend to the Proteus Engine and miscellaneous Cornerstone maintenance. I stood with my back to Arius' bed. My quarters aside, his bed was probably the least insane thing about the Cornerstone. It was simple oak, and a downy mattress. I addressed him, but did not meet his gaze.
"What is it?"
I could tell in his tone, he was exhausted… not in how much effort was exerted, not his wound which had begun to heal the moment he re-entered the Cornerstone…
"Did you find what you were looking for down there, at least?"
Of course he wanted to address my shame. I refused to answer.
"Nobody, I don't blame you. I already told you this-."
I grimaced as I interjected:
"YOU MIGHT NOT, BUT DID THIS NOT HAPPEN BECAUSE I NEGLECTED MY DUTIES AS YOUR WARDEN?"
He took pause, answering calmly and compassionately.
"I'm not going to fault a human for being curious, Nobody. Ultimately, what has happened here, was something that could have conceivably been in my designs, or that of the Law of the Three Primes… or… No, nevermind. That isn't what is important, Nobody."
I was frustrated beyond measure. My Captor, who imposed my role as their Captor upon me when their universe began… showing compassion for something that should have wholly been my own responsibility, even if it was something I didn't ask for…
"If this isn't important-."
"Setting aside all else that has happened, Nobody… you've held your vigil unceasingly for aeons, and in spite of your well-earned animosity towards me, you've worked with me to maintain something akin to order where Chaos breaks free. The least you've earned… it's the right to cut yourself a bit of slack. In return… will you please answer my question?"
His phrasing… worded like he could levy what only I can bestow on myself, but spoken in a tone that dispelled any doubt about his intentions. There were no ulterior motives, no subtle doublespeak, no masked info-gouging…
That's what most…
I turned around and met Arius' gaze, eye to eye.
"No. All I found were ghosts hidden in the datascape."
I saw his eyes look toward my closed, left hand.
"Ghosts?" He sighed as he closed his eyes. "That… may be one way of putting it."
"I shall leave you to your dreams, Arius."
"Nobody…"
"Yes?"
"Even if it means my potential end, I do, truly hope you can find whatever is at that thread's end."
________________________
"It's interesting to think that Uriel is the name of an Angel-."
"No, Truth;" Courage interjected. "What is strange, and brilliant if you ask Arius, is what the creators of our world did with the name; making it that of a Daemon. The Heretic of Truth; only fitting what you did with him at your call."
"I'd appreciate it… if you didn't remind me of that." Truth mused with a savage quiet.
"Right, sorry about that."
Arius' daughters were scouring the main floor, acquainting themselves with the space. Well, two were. The Envoy, Anger was perusing the shelves of the Archive, looking over various novels and tomes from the lower shelves. Truth was looking over the Proposal profiles in the console as Courage kept her company. She had just finished looking at Clef's proposal, The Archangel Uriel.
"So, if I'm understanding this correctly; this, as well as the setting we imbued First Stroke with, are things that initially spawned or brought about Prominence to the Organization that that woman used to spearhead."
"Easy kid, she isn't worth our Enmity."
"Sorry. Sometimes I still forget that this is by design… I'll have to get used to being around her, and not holding her role against her."
"Still, better to be able to see our father than to… nevermind."
"No, you are right, Courage…"
Awkward land mine, the sentiment flooded Courage's mind as she tried to shake it off. She knew why too, they were the same person when it happened-
"You two? A moment?"
Oh thank the Void a distraction, both of them jumped up and paced over to their Sister.
"What is it, Anger?" Truth called out.
Anger was looking over a Black Vinyl binder.
"I can feel a piece of Father within this."
_______________________
The Dreamer in the Engine stirs as their eyes water in grief and rage, the sand in their eyes falling away on its own as they enter a variation of REM-sleep. In spite of the mechanical machinations binding them in sensory deprivation, they could still feel the death of one they had once called friend.
It appeared as a mental vision, like a nightmare he had beheld a dozen dozen dozen dozen times. The voices of something that shouldn't exist and his brother parted by a generation fusing into a discordant, harrowing bi-tone. The sight of his Cadaver being commandeered by the Fell Goddess, being reborn behind the veil of burning vines that threatened to unmake his unceasing Dream.
Iteration-000 struggled against the snug confines of the Immersion Engine he was the core of; desperately, in futility, trying to wake up; to remember his essence, his purpose, his will.
He was closer this time than anytime before, this much he knew as his dream had shifted ever so slightly. His projection had done its job. Lucidity peeled back the layers of autonomy, revealing the process his mind was being externally programmed to overlook.
His Child, Arius, was correct when he humored the notion that Entropy being part of that god's design, was something he'd have to be wary of.
Soon enough, he'd have his audience. He'd been dreaming someone else's dreams in a box between reality and fiction for aeons. What was one more era to bide their time, when the machine they were caught within kept him and his consciousness alive against his will?