Bleak star constellations and clusters dissolve, surrendering to the blackness as Reshilomed cruises across the void's perimeter with facile ease. Uninterrupted by external interferences, it is silent and blissful here.
Solitude permits a soul to reflect and lose oneself in the profound complexities of contemplation. I cannot deny the element's astronomical, serene appeal. And I intend to indulge myself in this presence of peaceful ambience before another problem occurs.
I'm perfectly aware that once my actions have been realised, I will no doubt reap their direful repercussions in some form or another; hence creating a chain of karmic consequences.
Come what may, I still have what is rightfully mine.
Venturing into the darkest depths known to the universe is a necessary endeavor, even if the chances of forfeiting my life are critically high.
A preferable option opposed to suffering the excruciating erasure of my very soul.
Judgement will soon come for me; therefore, I must act promptly before the Hunni founder commences his search. No soul outside of my abyss cruiser shall learn of my designated location.
Not even Ira.
Once someone enters the void, they are utterly untraceable. From what memory serves, this is the very one that swallowed Vonplex. I wonder if Azokin has made any significant progress in his search for him, or if any at all. The void is an infinite abyss. An incredibly mysterious and curious place where no one ventures unless they have a worthwhile reason of importance, or they simply just want to disappear to where no soul can find them.
A dash of movement is caught from the corner of my eye. Reeling in my attention. Tantalising my high prey drive. Tempting me. I do enjoy sating my curiosity; however, I would prefer to keep the disturbances to a minimum, even if I do consider the notion of losing all self-control sinfully thrilling and delectably maddening. The succession of my escape and a low-profile execution of the after phase of the failed collaboration is my foremost priority.
To disappear, naturally following Vonplex's example.
The alosium strand residing in my cheek squirms again, and the revolving argentine wall of the heart chamber dissembles into lesser, sliding, segmented strips. They part ways and assemble a new passage from inside the wall. I decide to humor the interference and investigate the passageway. I delve inside. Captivated by the shadow's fleeting movement. Encouraging me to go after it and satisfy my inquisitiveness.
Curiosity is a beguiling temptation that can arouse a specific newfound desire. It can distract you from your priorities and neglect the risks, as it lures you away from your intended path. It is a wager. The desire can either lead you down an alternative path of self-destruction or a fortuitous opportunity.
My guest – the irksome shadow that has haunted me since the birth of the agreement.
It sprints from wall to wall. I can perceive it perfectly, zigzagging in the miserable blackness ahead.
"Why did you murder him?"
Ah – that voice. It takes me back to when I was listening to the audio recordings from my wrist device in the docking station. The erradise. That despicable place; I never wish to go there again. Although I do find it odd that the seed's voice is coinciding with the guest's when there is no connection between us.
Why do they appear the same?
I can hear its voice both physically and telepathically. It believes that I murdered the core?
How absurd. I merely deactivated its operative vessel.
The wa-omme species do not die so easily.
I can also detect a degree of attachment towards the core, coming from the seed.
How endearing.
"ANSWER ME!" My line of perception quakes. I grimace as the parasitic strand jerks and writhes. The floor path thins as it drastically elongates far ahead as a hallucinogenic exaggeration – an endless path to nowhere. Primitive shrills pervade through the passageway, and an unknown breeze sweeps over my shoulders, combined with an adhesive gelidness pressed against my spine.
What is the meaning of this sensation?
The specimen has enigmatically infiltrated my consciousness. Entrenching a feeble and minor interlink. Does it dare to create a telepathic and empathetic connection with me?
How bold - and a nuisance.
For a Terrian seed to achieve such an advanced undertaking is truly a rare feat. From what I could discern in the motherpod's audio recordings, the seed was communicating with the core, and in doing so, it would have inherently been exposed to the wa-omme's empathic telepathy – or my little guest is just simply toying with me as per usual.
I cognitively dampen and stifle the grating intensity of its volume. I diverge my concentration and dismiss the persisting agonized vocals of the primate hybrid, screeching on a phrenic wavelength, as well as throughout the dark passage itself.
This is as far as the assault goes.
Sustaining control and impeccable composure is an absolute must while operating Reshilomed. I cannot afford to upset my bond with the parasite anymore.
Then something brief and warm trickles from my bottom lip. I wipe away the tepidness, and a smudge of obsidian fluid smears my fingertips.
Unpleasant as it is, only a sniveling whelp would react in such a vocal and melodramatic manner. As my genetic engineer, Mya-im is currently following my instructions to harvest information and vivisect the seed for fresh genetic material. Restocking on resources and provisions for our next endeavor. As well as to analyze its auric signature and pinpoint the timeline from which it came from.
If there is one seed, then there would be countless more. Once I can determine which era it belongs to, I will travel there personally and reclaim dominion over Terria. Taking my rightful place as their founder.
On the other hand, I have not seen Mya-im so passionate - not for a while. She arrived on board three moon cycles ago, according to Terria's passage of time. She came here through a silent door and secured the anachronistic specimen in haste. She has not left her temporary laboratory since. I knock on the wall below the luminous octagonal frame, and a sheet of dark argentine shoots up into the fixture. I dip my head as I pass underneath, and step inside the laboratory, minding my horns – a learned habit of mine.
I join Mya-im at her side as she stands by the edge of the surgical slab. I hold my hands behind my back, and observe the immobilized subject. Miniature vermillion spheres levitate over the specimen as two disjoined, spiraling helical chains, angled sideways in a horizontal position, are in the process of their own structural creation. Slowly draining the blood from the seed. Dispersing the blood into components. Breaking it down into red and white blood cells. Separating the plasma.
The components encase themselves individually in oval-shaped, organic containers, derived and made from the matter of the subject before joining the pair of twisting, unconnected chains. The same applies to skin tissue, cartilage, and bone. Disaggregated down to their most basic and unpolished form, to be then contained before being inserted into the unformed double helix. Taking their place as another recent addition, furthering its construction and establishment for the sole aim of producing a complete DNA profile.
Folds of flesh are meticulously cut and peeled back, revealing the frontal anterior. She is taking her time, carefully slicing through sanguine layers and examining bodily functions in the abdominal area. Engrossed in the procedure. Her passion. Her work.
With steady hands and keen analytical eyes, she gingerly explores the exposed, bulging entrails, which have elicited her interest. Her hands wear a secondary skin, comprised of tangible energy - a combination of matter and immaterial. As Ira's direct descendant, she has been gifted with the ability to manifest and manipulate energy. Her glowing appendages and her beloved vivisection tools are doused in the blood of the seed. The smell of blood is semi-potent, but it does not stir my primal hunger – or compel me to spill blood.
With a gestural flick of her wrist, the floating tabletops stationed around the base of the upstanding empty cylinder glide back and forth, carrying numerous, diverse sets of surgical equipment over to her. Assisting her at her beck and call.
"I do apologise for the noise disturbances. Primates and aves are incredibly vocal in nature, especially when they react to certain stimuli. Unfortunately, this one woke up during mid-procedure. So, please bear with the noise level until another dosage of general anesthesia can be given."
I notice there is a medium-sized puncture hole in the side of the subject's neck. It does not matter to me whether it is conscious or not. Pain is nothing more than information sent to the sensory cortex.
"Do whatever befits your process."
She nods with an affirmative enthusiasm.
"Yes, of course. I mean – understood!" She is definitely Ira's descendant. I do recall odd yet rare moments when he would fumble over his own words. He was rather clumsy with his articulation whenever he was enamored or overenthusiastic.
But, I am relieved she did not inherit the highly sentimental aspect of her ancestor's eccentric personality. We cannot allow ourselves to become swayed and yield to the trifling principle of morality.
It has no place here in my domain. Not while I am alive.
It cannot.
It must not surface.
Our conscience must remain clear.
Unpolluted by meaningless thoughts and emotions.
The seed's sacrifice is necessary and pivotal to our advancement. I will use or exploit whatever means to maintain order and ensure the succession of the after phase. There can be no delays or obstructions; however, if my genetic engineer dares to fail me, I will dispose of her personally.
Failure isn´t an option.
Thus far, she has served me well, and I sincerely hope she succeeds - for both of our sakes. Then a faint, and chillingly bitter draught sweeps across my lower back. I know all too well who delivered that unpleasant sensation - my sweet little guest.
The one who so earnestly tails my steps and stalks within the shadows. Reappearing at every turn.
"Continue as you were." After imparting those words to May-im, I excuse myself from the laboratory and reenter the caliginous passage.
The stifled wails of the specimen have been subdued to an almost inaudible hum. I have become numb and desensitised to the empathetic discomforts, striving to toy with my sensory perceptions. The passage narrows, and swift, transient movement recurs ahead as my visitor runs from wall to wall. Repeating the same pattern as before. I find it irksome and laughable how it tries to use these inadequate psychological tactics on me, hoping the hallucinations would destabilize my bond with the parasite. Trying to initiate my self-destruction.
I come to a halt, and the walls disassemble into innumerable sliding panels. Smoothly passing between one another. Gliding through the façade of a darksome subspace. The parasite knows my intent all too well; therefore, the passage abstains from deconstructing itself entirely, albeit due to my guest's persistence. I resume my advancement back towards Reshilomed's heart chamber, ignoring the conjured hallucinations.
I massage my temples, unable to relieve the throbbing headache. The heart chamber is usually quiet and relatively peaceful – when it is not around.
"Do you enjoy following me?" Rhetorical or not, it makes no difference. As usual and predictably so – it is here.
Behind the four-dimensional diagrammatic energy projection of the void, positioned in the centre of the room, stands a petite and ghastly figure. Bare and exposed, with its abdomen sliced open. Bleeding heavily. Skin tinctured in blue. Clear liquid runs from its tear ducts, wetting and besmearing its lower eyelids.
"Answer me." It demands again. I disregard the unsightly apparition and reproach the display. My hands roam around its disproportionate shape, tilting the fluctuating ethereal projection of the void. Scrutinising it from all possible angles while basking in the auric feedback of the illuminated display. For now, the migrating anomaly is moving at a relatively glacial pace; thus, I impel Reshilomed to dive into the thick of total darkness.
It begs me to question whether my guest and the apparition are indeed the same entity – or a distasteful trick of the ego.
I would not be surprised at all if this is one of Vonplex's underhanded methods to achieve his grand ambition.
Nothing is safe from him.
He can traverse the boundaries of time and space. Nothing can escape his touch. His power.
"Why won't you..." The seed stiffens and then stoops forward. Its jaw hangs ajar, and a wretched vocalisation preludes the excessive outpour of blood from its throat. It shivers pitifully as the ensanguined contents spill onto the floor.
"Answer me?" It finishes its question. The remaining droplets of blood drip from its bottom lip, engraved with teeth marks.
You do not need to know what becomes of your former companion.
"You are insistent; I'll give you that much."
These recurring appearances have always been an unpleasant and unrelenting feature in my life. Despite the shadow's pursuit throughout the celestial years, this is the first time it has adopted this particular guise, opposed to its usual, dark appearance. Playing into ignorance. Feigning amnesia and unawareness.
Pretending not to know my identity and my past doings.
"Very well then. I shall waste more of my time on you since you have been so generous by visiting me at this celestial hour."
There is no harm in imparting information to a recipient who does not have the mental capacity to comprehend anything above and beyond itself. It shall meet its demise soon enough, once its usefulness has expired and there is nothing left to extract. So for now, I shall play along and humor it. I will pretend it is the seed instead of what I am normally accustomed to interacting with; therefore, an introduction is in order.
And I do not intend to answer its question either.
"My name is V-syvious. I am the second – and the last of my genus." V-syvious is my given name. I have never been fond of my past nor my origins. Personally, I'd prefer not to speak of it, let alone ruminate on it.
"Furthermore, I am your cosmic parent."
I do not have a family. I don't know what it means - or know how it feels to have one. My introduction has been long overdue, and it is something I should have done in the beginning when the first two Terrians were born. Another one of my regrets is never being known or seen by them after they were conceived.
I take my hands away from the projection and round the centered, animated display. I approach the apparition and crouch down in front of it, meeting its lifeless gaze. I then raise my talon and press the tip into its forehead until it perforates the skin. Drawing out a spot of blood to the surface. It does not withdraw or grimace. It just stood perfectly still and devoid of expression.
"Although it may not appear as so externally, there is a crucial aspect of me coursing through you – within all of you." I watch a single line of red race down to its temples, and part in twain as it greets the bridge of its nose.
"The RH negative blood group - is none other than my own."
This information will be more than enough. Divulging any more to you is pointless. Then a frail chill graces the sides of my countenance as a pair of small hands hold my cheeks with an inexplicable tenderness. Their hands are like the air itself. They have caught me within their unexpected yet peculiar show of affection. Momentarily swept along by it, I lean into the one hand. Their fingers gently stroke the ridges along my cheekbone. My suppressed attachment and this questionable affection contradict me.
It perplexes me so.
For years, I have craved their acknowledgment. I wanted to play a visible role in their early development – and yet they repulse me. Their faces are sickening to behold. This ugliness, which has grown inside of me, is like an incurable contagion that plagues and torments me internally. And yet I am permitting one of them to touch me so openly.
What am I doing?
I swipe across their throat, decapitating them with a swift single motion of my talons. The apparition dissipates and retreats into the surrounding shadows. I stare down at my quivering hand. Specks of dark residual energy cling tenaciously to my fingers, dissolving gradually. Returning to the darkness from where it came.
I form a fist, imprisoning the lingering remnants within. Holding onto the futile delay of the inevitable – the inevitability of fate. I close my eyes and bring my fist to my chest.
"Alex."