Crudely introduced to a sharp and unforgivable penetration through my chest by a self-righteous, alosium sabre. The fang of divine light, begotten and honed by the hands of the Esseden, has impaled my heart.
Piercing straight through my eternal essence - my very soul.
Her pellucid, crystalline armor gleams in the excruciating and overpowering brilliance of her light. Her lone rhombic eye glares with a white, unbridled malice in the centre of her angular and almost faceless visage.
She presses her foot down on my stomach as she tears out her long crescent sabre from my chest, and so I fall back onto the broken icebound surface of the obsidian ocean. Exhausted and bleeding profusely. Producing small and shallow breaths, barely holding onto consciousness.
My right arm is sundered and lost. I am still, and critically wounded, with my strength drained from the blood loss.
I cannot move.
"You are nothing but poison. Creation's miserable mistake!" The esseden exclaims.
Darkness and light collide above us in the disintegrating atmosphere, as the planet is tearing itself asunder. Sharing the visual likeness of a solar eclipse. Dark and translucent specks of energy flutter as they rain down from the melting sky. Filling the air with suspended residual particles. Then a staggering quake of immense magnitude confounds the molten world. Stars dissolve into insignificance. Neighboring moons and frozen planets collapse in on themselves, dusting the cosmos. Suns implode, instigating a combusting chain reaction. Cosmic destruction, brought upon by the oncoming darkness that is spreading and consuming everything in existence.
"I will never forgive you for what you have done!" She bellows with unmatched ferocity.
"And for that reason alone, I shall gladly become your retribution."
Just as she was about to raise her sabre, she leaps back unexpectedly. Standing firm and resolute in her offensive stance. My view of her is then clouded by an impregnable blackness as the mouth of the void swallows me whole. Depriving her of the opportunity to snuff out my soul, thus I yield to the void's generous everlasting embrace - for I can now finally rest in peace.
"I'm sorry, Ira."
Encased in pleasant and comforting tepidness. I open my eyes and see nothing but gold in my wake while floating in a stationary position within a dimensional subspace.
There is heaviness - a residual lethargy weighing in my limbs.
I stretch out my arms and legs, gradually uncoiling my body from a fetal position. It feels slow and stiff, as though it hasn't been used in an eon. I move my head and neck, then rotate my shoulders to loosen the rigidity built up in my joints. I explore my aureate enclosure with my hands, as I am eager to know the spatial extent of my confines.
I do not know the reason why this subspace exists, or why I'm here. All I can do is merely describe what is perceived and felt through the senses. It feels somewhat solid, and yet soft?
Like a cushioning cocoon of energy – or some sort of inexplicable membrane?
Compelled by eagerness and impatience, I dig my talons into the strange astral fabric. Tearing into it. Peeling back the tangible energy. Yearning to know if there is another existence beyond this subspace - beyond myself.
Clear liquid gushes out of the exacted claw marks. The mild warmth inside my cocoon escapes. Leaving me behind. Exposing me to a more unwelcoming and colder temperature. Unpleasant. Unwanted. I strive forward and bore through the hanging tatters of membrane.
I reel and lose my balance. Falling down on my front. Incurring a dull thud and a grunt.
The unpleasant chill nips at my exposed wet skin. I crawl forward on my stomach, drenched in a pellucid slime. Trying to refocus and gather my bearings. Carmine coloured fluid spurts out from the flailing ends of the disconnected tubes rooted into my flesh, and submerges me in a new pool of substance.
I stumble onto my feet, trying not to slip. I gnarl as I wrench out the long, empty tubes from my body, well, most of them. Some were harder to reach than others. It seems as though they were connected to the two cylindrical containers situated on each side of the burst cocoon, levitating at the heart of the chamber. Inside each of the containers is a beaded double helix spiraling into deterioration. Filling the inner space with circulating smattered remnants.
The double helix on the right was purple, whereas the one on the left was black. I'm uncertain if the colour of the helices holds any relevance to me – or to someone else.
Everything seems ambiguous. Misplaced. I touch my face to discover a contraption masked over my snout, covering the entire lower half of my countenance. A passive breeze passes through the filters, channeling and exchanging the direction of airflow inside my mask, providing oxygen. And judging by the feel of it, the contraption does not seem to be connected to anything either, but if it was, it's not anymore.
It feels restrictive, but if I tear it off thoughtlessly, I may lose my only source of oxygen. I don't know if I am capable of breathing with or without it - yet.
I dreamt I was critically injured from battle and on the brink of death before the incoming darkness intercepted my opponent. A vaguely known entity, called the Esseden.
Therein, afterwards, I was engulfed by the void. My arm is still attached, and there are no wounds or visible scarring. Just bareness.
Someone has healed me, but who?
I cannot remember anything else other than that vivid dream. I know nothing of my current whereabouts – or my identity.
I have no sense of personal history.
Did I have a life before my awakening? Do I have a name? Just who am I?
I stare around, taking in the novelty of my minimalistic environment. Large geometrical, nine-pointed stars are engraved into each face of the four surrounding russet and begrimed walls. I do not recognise the chamber or its emblems. The ceiling trembles, and powdered dirt falls, layering the floor. I am underground?
How long have I been down here for?
I stiffly step forward with a languid waver as I cautiously approach one of the nine-pointed stars. I set my palm up against the golden and magenta symbol. It feels – strangely familiar to me. I think I have seen this type of design before, but where? Then, in the moment of initiating physical contact, all of the emblems illumine simultaneously, beguiling me into a captivating daze.
Rain pours ceaselessly from the haze-enveloped horizon. Speckling my skin. The great atmospheric shroud cloaks the flaming brilliance of the twin viridian suns in obscurity. The emblems teleported me above ground? Aureate particles hover over a wide litter of scorched and mangled corpses. I do not recognise any of them. Full-grown clusters of translucent and protuberant crystals are strewn throughout the wet sludge amongst the dead.
What happened here?
And why did they perish?
I sight a cycloptic titan trudging through the marsh, shining a light from its green oval eye as it scans the sleeping grounds, where the dead have been laid to waste. It has a towering, well-built physique of crystalline silver. A small group of clones accompanies and tails the surveying giant.
They disperse into different directions, straying momentarily from their guiding colossal headway. One clone closes in, heading towards my position. Its green light glides over the mounds of corpse-filled slush. I crouch down and remain low to the ground, ankle deep in mud.
I suspect the clones will not simply welcome me with open arms and may shoot me on sight if I am detected. I heed my instinct and take the first initiative to act. It turns its back on me. I stalk closer and lunge forward. The clone spins around and shines its light directly in my face, blinding me.
The light will not deter me.
I strike forward, and an acute sting cuts across my knuckles after an immediate contact with something solid.
I snap my hand back to find it doused – in water?
Miniature lakes of purple run from my fresh cuts. I pluck a large crystal fragment out from my skin and flick it aside. One of many is embedded in my knuckle. I will address the rest later, if I survive long enough to receive such a privilege to do so.
The blinding glare of light subsides from my field of vision, and the clone stands there stunned. The light behind its smashed lens flickers uncontrollably. It stares at me, appearing discombobulated as though it had never been hit before. The dark pinpoint centered inside the fragmented circle enlarges into an ill-tempered orb, and then a thick, unrefined beam shoots forth. It deviates to the side, unable to successfully hold its precision, and backfires, exploding in its visage. I round my opponent, then grab its neck and twist it until I hear a self-gratifying snap.
After its brisk execution, the husk of my former foe clatters to the ground, sinking into the mud. They are nothing more than a weak imitation of their much larger brethren.
"Pitiful."
Then streaks of fluorescent green shoot through my shoulder. Greeted by a subsequent burning stench from the multiple flesh-eaten holes. They are too tender to touch.
Additional blasts are then fired at my chest, just barely missing my heart. I sway to the side and growl at the dozen fuming holes, causing pain with the slightest of movements. Hindering the natural simplicity of breathing. I hoist up the inanimate husk of my previous opponent and keep it elevated in front of me to shield myself from the unrelenting rapid fire as I tread towards the second clone, slowly.
I do not have a name, nor do I recall whether I had one to begin with.
Am I someone?
Or am I no one at all?
Unaware of my real identity, and yet I have come to participate in someone else's conflict, which has led me to discover that I am, in fact, capable of defending myself. I can fight back if the situation demands it. My body reacts in accordance with the progression of events and to the nature of mayhem - to chaos.
This is my first time in battle, and it genuinely feels as though I have done this before, even if there are no memories to suggest I had learned the art of fighting technique, or experienced combat prior - except for my dream, of course.
Why is this the case?
Or was it an actual memory? I wonder.
Were they taken from me? I cannot put a name to the planet or the species patrolling the flat, desolate landscape, and the deceased who have been reduced to ground fertilizer.
Who were they?
Did the titan and its clones eliminate the victims?
Regardless of the answer, the sky seems to endlessly weep for them. I toss the body aside and dash ahead. I punch its circular optic, causing it to shatter upon impact, sending the clone into a quivering recoil. I seize the opening and snap its neck. As straightforward as the tactic was for contending with the clones, if I neglect to gather more information about the present regional threat, I could fall into the dangerous habit of repeating the same attack strategy over and over again. And if that happens, I will become predictable; therefore, I need to determine what method will be most effective for putting the leading titan out of commission, permanently.
An explosion of viridian throws me into the mud with my cheek pressed into the mass burial turf, followed by an auditory shattering boom. I can barely hear anything beyond the high-pitched squealing inside my auditory canals. I shake my head and notice a bright green circle seething through the underlayer of fog.
I lost focus.
I was too self-absorbed in my own thoughts to realise the titan had already set its sights on me.
I find myself staring at its single eye for longer than necessary - and needlessly so. Its facial features remind me of something – of someone.
It's optic reforms into a white rhombus. It's continence adopts a well-defined, symmetrical sharpness - high cheekbones and a pointed chin - the unforgiving visage of the Esseden.
The one who desired my absolute erasure and wanted to become my retribution. Although I do not know what "Esseden" means or what it entails, I did receive the impression that it was a title. Not a name.
Her real name was never mentioned.
What was the reason behind our conflict?
My recollection is still all too indistinct.
The titan's visage reverts to normal. Its optic brightens, and condensation smears the lens. Static crawls along my soiled arms. A sudden jolt of electricity pricks my nerves and causes me to jerk involuntarily. An abrupt introduction of newfound energy aggresses throughout my entire being, demonstrating its unapologetic, ill-tempered, and primeval nature. Forks of electricity strike forth from the corners of my eyes in an outburst of discriminative fury, and thus a wave of dynamism bursts outwards from my body - rippling far across the expanse.
Caught in the electrical shockwave, my colossal foe convulses and goes limp. Its eye flickers before dimming to a permanent, solemn shade of ash and collapses with a heavyset bang, stirring up a clouding upheaval of filth.
I stand there frozen for a good minute or two.
Was this my doing?
Where did this power come from?
I reproach the fallen shell of my nemesis sinking into the vast foundation of grime and the departed, slowly joining them. The uplifted veil of filth descends and settles upon the functionless vessel. Its chest is cracked open and leaking water. Glistening silver slithers through the mire, and numerous vines rear up, curling into a tendril. A viridian hue gleams along the smooth curve of begrimed silver. All of them shoot towards me in a simultaneous lunge. They coil around my wrists and legs. I stubbornly dig my heels into the sludge and lean back while sliding forward.
Fruitlessly resisting.
The mud surmounts my knees, and a sphere of spiritual quintessence pushes through the sodden surface of the mire. It ascends into the dank air, showing where all of the vines are connected to the levitating source of prana, the fallen's life force. Untainted. Benign. As though the soul is incapable of assault or entertaining the notion of bloodshed – a false output of innocence. The further I resist, the more my binds tighten. I try to persuade myself to relax.
Easing my muscle tension. De-escalating my heart palpitations and slowing it down to a calm rhythm. I willfully surrender to the pull as it brings me uncomfortably close to its life force and begins to delve into my chest. It explores and compresses my ribcage, creating an intangible tug, as though it aspires to rip out my very soul.
Despite my constricted position, I manage to raise my hands, and the ambient glow of the sphere blemishes my palms as I grab it. The sudden contact and the action in itself prompt a questionable, prickling sensation in my fingers. It dances upon my talons. Sparking a prelude to the resurgence of power. Electricity storms into the globe, and electrocutes its spirit, causing its flawless spherical curvature to succumb to a spasmodic quiver.
The vines uncoil and unbind my limbs, then retreat into the mud. The unnerved spiritual mess hastily descends and submerges itself within the mire. I kneel down and claw through the thick layer of muck. Spurred by the determination to scrape out the fallen's soul.
No one flees from me!
No-one.
The dream either insinuated I had lived a previous life – or perhaps it's just utter nonsense.
If I am to survive the fray at all, I must learn more about my recent foe – from within.
I sit down and lean back against the damp cave wall while clutching onto the shapeless essence. My seared shoulder and chest twinge for every movement I make. No matter how subtle. Raw. Covered in blisters and weeping. These wounds will scar, no doubt. And to prevent any more injuries in the future, I believe it is imperative to learn how my opponents function.
What makes their mind and soul tick?
Small ethereal threads manifest and grow from the disquieted life force.
Fascinating.
The threads weave in between my fingers and tie themselves around the base. I begin to hear soft, inarticulate murmurs from all around me. They are too faint to understand, and their tonal base reverberates throughout the cave floor, growing louder.
Where are they coming from?
There are two distinct voices as far as I can discern, conversing in a foreign tongue. They are not too difficult to differentiate. One is heated and assertive. Authoritative. Wanting to be heard. As for the other, they sound emotionally detached and unwelcoming. Their language is torn between incoherence and coherence – a broken line of translation. Then the handheld essence flares up and floods the inside of the cave, like the void that once swallowed me whole. Consuming everything. Stranding me in a blank, boundless space of ethereal white.
Halfway through the audible chatter, I begin to catch certain words and sentences.
"Keep searching. It must be found."
What are they searching for?
Then the voices abate into the background of the pale void. The line of translation ends on an abrupt and inconclusive note.
How was I able to understand them when I'd never heard of the language before?
Whoever they are, I am curious to see where this place leads – or if it leads to anywhere at all.
Vertical strips of silver are scattered throughout the astral space, gleaming from afar. Further piquing my interest. Luring me closer. The strips protract and expand into spiraling, crystallised stems. Branches full of thorns and luminous shards extend outwards.
Illumined water flows through the semi-transparent trees, discharging droplets from the shards dangling idly from their branches. Crying.
Sterling sleet descends from the looming smog, and a simmering cerulean circle emerges from the vaporous collective, facing downwards. Hovering directly above me. Melting the adjacent trees into a liquidised deformity.
"Life force redetected." It declares.
A gargantuan palm comes down from the ethereal smog - expansive and lucent. Fingers outstretched. A flash of carmine envelops my soul and shocks me back inside the cave. Consequently, after receiving a jolt of energy, I bang the back of my head against the wall - almost dissociating myself from reality. Making me waver and lightheaded. The woven astral threads have cut and sunken into my skin, weeping with blood. In a crazed haste, the element cages the fallen's soul and electrocutes it. Then the constricting lace dematerialises. It's energy - eliminated.
The cave trembles, and pieces of rock crumble from the ceiling. I grunt as I force myself onto my feet, pained by my present afflictions. I hurry to the mouth of the cave and behold the devastated plane outside. Humongous silhouettes move unsteadily within the dense fog and fall. They flail and writhe pathetically as golden particles consume their bodily armor. The grim, overhanging haze evaporates as innumerable golden rifts rend and feast upon the magenta troposphere. It was as though the very planet was being devoured. Sundering, and all-consuming...