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Delirium
Time is often perceived as linear by those lacking the fortitude to see past the veil. This reality, this dream merely a tapestry, meant to be bent by those deemed above mortality. The nexus within the old world's carcass had been digested, Mazana, part homunculus, part Djinn, an unholy fusion by all metrics, now above a mere spirit. Her siblings, those that had spurned her, imbeciles tugged by strings beyond fathomability. Their eyes blind, unable to see, polluted by the grime and filth of their mother. Victims in a grand orchestra, pawns to be navigated by insidious wills. The empire they knew, the society they sought to protect, stitched together via the use of innumerable corpses. Those innocent victims were begging for redemption, imploring any who may listen for retribution.
Mazana was stepping free from those silvery pools, carrying a cadaver, the arcane energy thoroughly consumed. That voracious appetite hardly satisfied; she needed more power to bend this wretched realm to her whims. The sands outside may seem white, but in truth, they were varnished in the blood of the unsullied. Those thigh-high heels colliding with the floor, the dragon watching as the spirit sat on the ruined throne of the former Mer empire. Those faultless legs were overlapping, as a broad and wicked smile ubiquitously sprawled forth, across soft to behold features. The hand was stretching forward, as the essence begged Comm'Orra to fulfill his end of their bargain, as Viessa corpsed laid resting on top of her lap. That quaint hallway of bone, the theater that labored as their little fray, would serve as an agreeable stage.
Like a mirage, an illusion, the blue streaked beauty emerged into view—the sight of Mazana's golden and black dressed attire, those reddish and dark heels on display. As crimson painted nails stroked Viessa's cold, lifeless face, a demure expression resided on the visage as the head tilted curiously. The air within plummeting, those inhabitants observing their breath now twirling from lips, as the icy blood coursed through the regal enigma's veins. The thumbs were wiping away the tears still staining Viessa's cheeks.
"These tears of sorrow, what virtue they possess. Indeed, such heartfelt expressions are the most estimable substance of our world. Don't be frightened; this husk is hardly a corpse. Hunter, I wonder, are you deserving of shedding such tears? The act of mourning our failures and the fallen resides within the domain of mortality."
The hand was trailing down the face and body, clutching that dangling forearm from the inert vessel. Mazana deviated her gaze from her sister to her still living brothers, gifting them with a delirium enriched smile.
"Tell me, can you all seriously call this aberration a corpse!?"
The frosty maiden suddenly snapping the bone, the forearm puncture the skin and muscle, before tossing the rag dolling body from the throne onto the boney floor. Standing free from perched position as she offered them all a theatrical bow.
"Frivilotiy, thy name is woman! No, that doesn't seem reasonable, as we Homunculus weren't even born from a womb. Humor me, Beastkin, can something not birthed from flesh ever be classified as a carcass? Thats right, brothers, she too, was one of our kind. An unfettered soul, purged of all impurities, transcending the levity that is mortality."
The apparition was melting from view. The Djinn only reappeared ten feet in front of her siblings with an ice dagger clenched tightly in her grasp.
"My beautiful comrades, we are all marionettes, just some of us have longer strings than others. What you're experiencing is merely the first moment your consciousness has been awakened—time, space, meaningless ideas, much like morality. Revolution, discord is the fuel that propels life forward. Civilization, ethics, all constructs formulated by mediocre wills to justify the futility of thwarting and eluding the ravenous abyss. What is derangement, but to repeat the same cycle expecting a differing result? What I offer is change, brothers, join me in this venture? Let us ride the spiral to the end and take our rightful place within the new epoch. Don't be alarmed; I sense proof is required of our divinity. Of which I am delighted to oblige for all those in this room...Behold."
The wintry enigma laughed as she raised the dagger, placing it to her neck, as her free hand clenched those locks of soft mane. The jagged implement hacking away, a bloody mist was pushing itself toward her siblings as the head was untethered from the body. The decapitated top being tossed to their feet, rolling around so that the eyes faced them, peering up at Rakash and Hunter. Those haunting eyes were staring into their very souls as the lips smacked together.
"Myrriah, the empire, used us all for their devices. No more, I have seen the way forward. For us to survive, drastic recourse must be...enforced!"
The foot raised, crushing the skull from the temple, caving it in, as blood pooled onto the surface. A swarm of shadows and fireflies circled from the hole, its blinding light filling the room, as it vanished. Mazana was standing resolute, the APV orbiting her curvaceous body, as a new head sprouted into view as she leaned down toward her brethern.
"Boo!"
Whether or not any of this was real remained to be seen, but one thing was tangible. Mazana, the frigid rose, had gazed into the lamenting void and awakened from its chaotic depths changed. Rakash wanted to be a unit once more, Hunter barely spoke, as the spectators Watari and Aiveera added their pointless conjectures to the mix..
Mazana was looking toward the Kitsune, making the connection between his lineage, as the fright-filled expression of a mother was a laborious thing to conceal. Watari, a rabid animal who thought of himself as wise and eloquent but disgorged absurd ideals. Aiveera, the loyal flea-ridden mutt, powerless to think for herself, lapped at the shit crusted fingers of her mistresses spawn. This audience demonstrated themselves as nettlesome, beyond redemption, their minds far too befogged to discern the veracity of her words. An asinine quality both Rakash and Hunter dishearteningly shared. What heartfelt supplications, the feeble rodent was pleading for his family, a bond that never tangibly existed. While all amphibian could do was stand there and witness the edifice of his transgressions, the manifestation of the "honor" bound warrior's failures.
This intruder retired those arms behind her back, interlocking digits, as the side of her palms rested against her rump. Those heels were riding natural acoustics, as the frigid rose paced rather calmly from side to side as if contemplating Watari and Aiveera's words.
"Am I real? Rakash, a vapid question, as empty as the future of the Empire. Permit me to counter your query with what you sincerely wished to demand but lacked the testicular fortitude to, are you real? "
Her movements ceasing, peering over the side of her shoulder toward her distressed brother, chuckling softly as a madness infused smirk resided on attractive features.
"This isn't about mother, nor is this about me. We are both pawns in your tussle over self-identity. How quaint, but fret not my forgetful brother, I will provide the answer you solicit after. Us homunculus are the product of mothers' sins, the culmination of her misadventures stitched with others' flesh. Your cognizance transcends that of man. Yet, it is still hampered by your unwillingness to embrace the rancid reality of our permanence."
The spurned daughter pivoted to face hunter, peering unwavering into his soulless eyes. The APV oscillating maintaining that mesmerizing orbit as it was now time to address her forgetful kin.
"Hunter? Our brother?"
Mazana laughing, leaning back as her right hand deviated from the back, placing the back of her hand against the forehead. This atrocity in an ostensible jubilant mood.
"No, not even an acquaintance will turn their back on you as you are tortured. Hunter, thanks for inquiring into how I have been; it's so refreshing to see you care! Maybe I should delight you with a retelling of what torment I suffered while you stood next to mother at clockwork when the fox transcended. Oh wait, thats right...you didn't know I was watching, now did you? Tell me, "brother," how is it you didn't open your mouth than when our mother dearest was at your side?"
The rejected matron taunting, as eyes rode toward the rat. The Djinn genuinely fascinated to observe how he'd handle this dismal epiphany.
"As to what I will do, why would a dead man care about a future he has no stake in? On second thought, I won't exterminate you. Death is so finite, but life, there will be perpetual misery there for you here. Hunter, the honorable warrior, the coward who turned his back on his sister. The aversion accountable for what is to come, all the death, the piles of burning carcasses. It's all thanks to you, your magnum opus. Ma belle peche, do not weep; I am not displeased with you; in fact, I am appreciative."
Matsumota had enough, growling as she stomped her foot forward. The sudden disturbance was warranting a harsh glare as Mazana extended her hand for Rakash to take.
"The hound of the Empire is angry. Tell me, can a fox with one paw still use her claws? I have seen him, you know, Aquaria. They all cry within the maelstrom of chaos..."
The blood fox bolting toward the frigid rose, her blade reeled back, as the tattered kimono flayed about with her approach. Time flowing slower within that dilated peach pupil as Mazana spread forth her arms as if being crucified. The wrist was turning the blade, steering the jagged tip toward apparitions heart, as the blade punctured the chest and went clean through the Djinns back. The Khan was grinning, snickering as her fiery glare took note of Mazana's shocked expression. The olive beauty was grunting, panting sharply as her hands shook vehemently, clenching the blade.
"I am Matsumo-"
Those words cut short as the blue streaked spirit pulled the Kitsune in for a hug. That serpentine tongue was slithering from the parted lips, sliding up the Kitsunes delectable cheek. Bone like tendrils sprouting from the head and spine, as once expressive eyes turned a fathomless black. The oral muscle left a strand of Saliva that forced the Kitsune to reel with absolute repugnance.
"Bravado, such...passion in you, little one. I see now why my mother kept your leash close; what a useful pawn you have become. How I would enjoy breaking your body and devouring your very spirit. However, we are not enemies; both of us have been scorned by Myrriah and the world of men. In time, you will come to see me as an ally."
A force of energy launching Matsumota back, hurling her toward Watari's steed paws. Nonchalantly pulling the blade out and tossing it toward the zeal filled cretin.
"Catch. Now...where was I? Thats right, Rakash...I wouldn't dare separate you from your newfangled friends. Tell me? How will you all enjoy going on a little trip with me?"
The frigid rose breaking into blackened smoke as the umbra slithered across the hallway. All those unable to escape it would find themselves submerging into its depths, being pulled under by thrashing tongues. The light from their world was dissolving, a sensation of weightlessness taking hold; they'd find themselves inundated by a rivulet of fibers. That space between space, the stimuli deprived void where time and reasoning hold no influence—those mucus-covered strands of hair speeding across the prey as it hauled them deeper into its clutches. Nirvana but a meager endeavor, as the party would find themselves lying on the floor returning to the dream they so fancied. There within the ruined palace of the Mer empire, they awoke, resting on the dust-caked floor. A beam of silver light rushed into the heavens as emerald-like snow descended to rest on their faces on account of the roof missing.
A song, an eerie choir, echoing within their minds, and that of the fast-approaching expedition...Soon their worlds would collide, as the final act in this play would commence. Mazana smirking, resting on top of the dragon's head. Viessa stasis ridden body on the lap as the Djinn caressed that scaley head somewhat affectionately.
"Do you hear my sweet lullaby? A new song for the creator, my gift to you all. Trust me; you aren't dead; rather, for the first time waking from a long slumber. Welcome, to the final stage, the dream of the real. Here I am, the alpha and the omega, please, make yourselves at home. Myrriah...she is on the way.
Convergence
Mazana watched as, one by one, the actors materialized onto the final stage. That sweet symphony of madness pouring over her, as that thunderous orchestration was vastly more important than most had fathomed. The marionettes were fancying themselves free, reacting how they felt fit, though each performance proved equally dull. Watari little speech eliciting no response, as his mother's juvenile display was expected. What fools, did these dimwitted neanderthals presume she brought them here just to be spectators? No, why get your hands muddy when someone else could do the menial labor for you? Even if they somehow gutted her, Mazana plan was too far along to be prevented so easily.
The frigid truth of the matter, this tortured soul's existence was no longer necessitated to exact the desired results. The head was reeling back sightly, the chest expanding and contracting, as she distinguished a detestable aura. This epiphany brought a broad smile on that face, as those frosty eyes drifted toward Myrriah as the antagonist waltzed onto the stage. Those empty words, like Hunter, not once did the Djinn consider her well being. Was this matron responsible for what was unfurling? No, not entirely, the blame equally could be divided on her dearest mother and mentally deficient brother. The bone tendril spirit sliding off the dragon's head, giving it a gentle pat as she theatrically danced forward.
The lifeless body of Viessa held like a dance partner. The morbid display and hysterical laughter would be followed with a bow and the dropping of the worthless husk.
"Mother, please spare me from any trite lines akin to, "How are you still alive?" Life and death are vapid words lacking any jurisdiction to a martyr such as myself. By the way, Rakash, what will you do? Do you not see, mother cares nothing for me? I, like hunter, are just tools to be discarded. I suppose when marionettes are just wheat, you can let a few fall to the wayside, given she possesses so many. Did you know, brothers, that Viessa was a monster like you and I? What if I told you that I sense another, a new abomination, tucked from our snooping gazes? Tell me, Myrriah, is that your backup plan, to turn sibling against sibling until no one is left to oppose your dictatorial reign?"
Mazana now pacing back and forth, making several tsk noises, as she wagged her fingers from disapproval.
"The human race, fearful of its weakness, developed this empire in a frivolous endeavor to abate the certainty that is oblivion. Civilization, morality, empty delusions polluted by an infectious race, of which I am the cure. This world they raised is as appealing as a flaccid cock, or a barren womb. Through all this crud, Myrriah, you persist as a sober soul. Freed from the shackles of fate, an unfettered cognizance. An all-consuming spiral, untarnished by any semblance of impurity. An amalgamation of fire, blood, and magic. But, the one thing you require is reality. Vex not, for that is why I am here, to endow you all with a bit of perspective!"
The lungs expanding, as a sigh of delight, divorced itself from luxurious lips. Bequeathing the human scholar with a jagged stare, unsure what this chimp would do at the edification that his species reign was coming to an end—slamming her foot crushing Viessa skull. That vile energy coursed toward the beam of light, bursting it into the heavens as the clouds parted. The song ceasing its haunting choir, it is finished.
"Freed from the bondage of the flesh, a true consciousness has no tangible form. All that should persist is the unquenchable yearning for reality, the truth of our universe."
Myrriah enraged, sent a line of purple energy from her deck, slicing off Mazana's right arm from the shoulder as the extremity plummeted to the floor. She was glancing to Rakash as the wintry matron chuckled.
"Did you see that Me peche? Bear witness to her true nature right now! A relic, desperately struggling to stay both relevant and alive. Such a pitiable sight, this is unseemly and unladylike Myrriah!"
The limb regenerating through a golden swirling mass of bioluminescent insects, well beyond the capabilities of any mortal or healer.
"Stop right now, Mazana! Don't make me..."
As she prepared another attack, the mother's words trembled, Mazana wiggled that empty extremity about liberally. The tortured spawn laughing as the Eldritch corruption and the convergence combined granted her a new limb. The arm birthed from the darkness and swarming insects buzzing out from the wound before shooting forward.
"What pain! What bittersweet realizations that I am alive! Anguish is such a vital component of discerning one's existence, wouldn't you agree? Try to remember Myrriah what is required, what you must do to remain alive? Or...have you lived in such fattening luxury for so long that you've entirely forgotten the lives you so freely snuffed out? Don't worry...I haven't...and neither have they!"
The mistress of shadows enraged as she shot her formerly prized creation a scowl.
"Shut up! I don't need some freak contaminated by Comm'Orra to preach to me about morality!"
The blue streaked mane spirit was grinning as the AVP dislodged itself from the back, orbiting around her lithe form.
"Contaminated? Hardly, more along the lines of evolved mother! I savored but a scrap of my real power that day; those tormented bellows and their waves crashed against my vessel. They are now apart of me; I feel their choir, the hymn of delirium, and their voracious appetite for vengeance! It is through this fusion that I transcend into a higher realm of existence compared to you! Myrriah, you're an antiquated model, a discarded oppressive relic, soon to reap what it is you've sown...tragedy..."
Sweet little Rakash, finally standing up to his twisted mother, how this performance induced a smile on her face. The frosty rose, disregarding the tattooed fox's proclamations, finding most of these spectators' declarations to be lacking merit. The conniving spirit had a profound idea; beholding Myrriahs anguish at the vermin's actions goaded Mazana onwards to propel her off the edge. The pitiable rodent yearned to preserve his sibling; why not feed this delusion with a mere act? A modest, heartfelt gesture to lead the bewildered and befogged consciousness down a critical junction.
"R-Rakash? I love you, y-you aren't a failure. T-the darkness if coming!"
The Djinn was staggering back, simulating tremendous despair, as she settled the palm onto her forehead, feigning a massive migraine. The breathing sharply, as those potent pools gazed at the rat, slipping from endearment to mania. The baboon human scholar's words prompting Mazana to laugh, such disdain, what imprudence this clueless chimp maintained. All that chatting, and in the end, to quote Matsumota, everything regurgitated was absolute bullshit. A simple reminder of the absurdity of his kind. That even those vested with a progressive education were still akin to a toddler.
"You wound me! In the land of fools, the sage appears deranged, so your ignorance is to be expected. Human, let the adults speak. If we wanted the inane ramblings of a juvenile, we would ask for your riveting insights! Now be a good ape, and go bang some rocks together or something?"
Mushufasa was glancing toward the mortal, suffering out a gnarl as he elevated his head. The dragon tilting it to the side as the massive body rose from the grains, kicking up a thin haze of dust across the scene. The serpentine-like body was hovering in the air, surpassing the city's length, as those elongated whiskers flailed about in the wind. Who was this worm to insult such a being? His species, their insolence beyond fathomability. Oh, how the creature of myth and legend would relish immolating his world.
"I am Mushufasa, last of my kind, but this does not absolve me of pride. Human, a speck, an insignificant worm releasing utterances and erroneous judgments. This titan is no creature's pet; I was to remain inert, to watch who won this campaign of wills. But I grow fatigued; the results are amply clear who the vanquisher will be this day. Mazana, I do this not for you but myself. It seems this world has forgotten my kind; I will not suffer such indignities any longer. I will glass your feeble empire, pulverize it to ashes. Their extermination will prove legendary, kindling the fable and legacy my kind leaves behind for a thousand cycles. The world of men will be no more, as the Beastkin may herald me as the precursor of their reign."
The dragon was flying off into the sky, casting a spectacular shadow as it wiggled through the heavens, vanishing from sight behind a thick layer of clouds. Myrriah was whetting her teeth, her efforts undone, those children spurning her. Matsumota, her ideal pawn, nipping at the hand that feeds her. So be it, if the wielder of fate was to fail this day, then, she'd take the blood fox's blasted son to Comm'Orra's dominion with her. The massive pool of energy housed within unlocking, as above her head, a glyph shaped like an eye appeared. Sparks of amethyst and pink bolts thrashing about, glassing the sand in its path. The current was running up the body, congregating where the pupil should be, as a dazzling glow illuminated outward, perforating any darkness nearby.
A torrent of comparable hued beam was expelled from the center, covering an area of six feet. The energy rod was speeding across the scene, kicking up grains of sand that clumped together, fusing into a pebble like structure. Rakash and Watari were the intended targets once they had been reduced to dust. Should the attack connect, Myrriah would angle to projectile toward the beastkin one by one, exploding them into a fog of cremated remains.
"I am Myrriah; the desert rose, the soul of the empire and architect of the world of men! I have persisted well beyond the rules of lineages and their epochs, mark my words; I will endure well beyond your expiration!"
Such unbridled vigor, the destructive nature far surpassing that of any mortal. Who could hope to stand in her way? What creature among them could dare contest such power?
'Watch closely Mazana, as I reconstruct my vision from the ruination you loftily thought to inflict!"
That single eye-widening, the cannon whirling, as the vessel and crystal's energy were collecting within the artificial body of that prosthetic. By its angle, the fox could tell that the attack wasn't aimed at her. Time was of the essence; she had little room for error. Matsumota had three choices, let her mentally disabled son die, try and knock him out the way, be exposed, or throw caution to the wind and engage the destructive force. The Khan was coasting on a bed of cherry blossoms, her right knee skimming across the sand as she steered her cannon toward the spiraling ray.
"Watari!"
The samurai was done running, having suffered enough loss for countless lifetimes. No parent should live to bury their spawn; having already lost one child, the Kitsune wouldn't mourn another! The body stopping in front of Rakash and the artist as the cannon ejected a pillar of pink light energy to combat Myrriahs. As the power caused a severe gale to rush across the region, the tips connecting, blowing back a massive cloud of debris. This power the Djinn possessed, it was...incomprehensible!
"Watari...run!"
The beam was contending against her attack, enveloping the fox in that glow. The cannon heated from the eruption of magic, smoking as the sheer force of their clash forced the Khan to slide back ever so slightly.
"I...It's too much! I...I can't stop her! Forgive me..."
At this time, Matsumota sensed a familiar presence as several hands rested on her back. They were here, infused on her flesh, depending on the sole survivor of their pact. Aquaria, her brother, Theo the drunken uncle, Jintsu the innocence robbed of this world, all their deaths meaningless, all the innocents sacrificed for the realm devalued if she didn't win.
"Your Empire...Epochs...these are fleeting things Myrriah. But glory...the glory of the Beastkin...that...is...forever!"
The tainted form, her kitsune armor birthing from the pores, coating the body, as Matsumota had accepted her failures. Innumerably the warrior had fallen, and each time, she rose back up to face the challenge. Her children, future generations, the fate of the Beastkin, were all riding on her. The combined wave of energy met in the middle as the ends whipped about, knocking over the loose pillars nearby. The barrel wouldn't last much longer, as the blood fox rose to her feet, confidence smeared across her face, as Myrriah peered through the torrent with utter disbelief. The cursed bone plating embellished her curves, those scars, anger, and all her suffering were emblems of honor to be presented. Those legs carrying the monster hunter forward, as the dark outline of her figure greeted the Djinn.
"You created me, walked me down this path, fed me my power. You thought you could enslave me, use this fox like a pawn! No, Myrriah, you should have learned from all those that dared to stand in my path, that unwritten rule of the Sands. Don't...fuck...with...Matsumota!"
The crystal within the oscillating chamber shattering, doing little to break her tenacity. Those under her command, their ululations were resounding forth, as the Kitsune put every fiber of her being into this one attack. The tip of the cannon starting to melt as dark flames and cherry blossom embers joined the column. Pushing through the attack as the combined energy of the two beings collided with Myrriah.
"I was close to ascending!"
The Djinn proclaimed as the 40ft wide beam pushed past where she stood, racing across the distance as it seemed to keep moving toward the horizon. Matsumota was unlatching the dripping cannon so that it dropped to the floor, falling to her knees, panting heavily.
"Almost...doesn't count...beside sex...you cunt..."
The kitsune form vanishing, exposing the naked fox. Those myriads of burns, scars all were telling the story that was her failure. Mazana stepping toward the weary samurai, she could kill this child where she stood relatively quickly. But no, the delirious maiden was nothing, if not sincere in her madness.
Prisoned by fate
This entry will have two variants, Mazana's reveal behind everything thus far, and her brother, Rakash's response, In that order.
-Mazana-
The frosty maiden looked upon the amphibian hybrid as the brother who had deserted her groveled in search of penitence. His attempts at sincere expressions of remorse meeting deafened ears, as stoicism is all that greeted him. The frigid rose had taken his place, bargaining with the Lord of chaos so that both Hunter and Anubia could escape that infernal hell unscarred. And not even an hour later, this self-righteous hypocrite was afforded a chance to prove the tangibility of familial bonds. But instead of flapping his gums, the sheepish buffoon embraced muteness. The wolf could weave all the pretty words he wanted, shed tears till blood escaped those glands, and yet Mazana would remain unmoved. The others thought her suffering from derangement, but it wasn't delirium that fragmented her, but his scornful heart.
What did this juvenile soul envisioned would transpire, was her frozen heart to melt at the sight of his anguish? What did this mongrel know of suffering? Did Hunter think of her as free? Such hubris, in Mazana's eyes, her brother only went about this performance for egotistical motivations. The mere mentioning of atonement causing that blank expression to wane, faltering, as a broad smirk sprawled out across soft to behold face. That warrior-poet Watari, expressing indignation, how pathetic was it that this stranger exhibited more empathy than the very soul she plunged into purgatory for? The gelid rose bewildered, that philosopher continued imploring the damaged woman to abandon her path and seek healing. What chivalry, Mazana had accomplished Comm'Orra's goal, change enacted, Myrriah was dead, and the empire holding the cycle from blossoming down a different route extinguished.
Hunter bequeathed his answer, though not how he pictured, being greeted with the equivalent response he offered during her time incarcerated, with silence. Amun and Aiveera's lover's quarrel, while riveting, would prove unworthy of acknowledgment. Though the hound's insistent needs to questions the obvious proved amusing, it was a wonder the fighter didn't trip on her paws and impaled herself with the pointed end of her glaive. The mournful scholar, his baneful wails irritating, far too dazzled by sorrow to see beyond his myopic perspective. Every one of these creatures lacked the proper edification, blissfully oblivious to the monumental occurrence that unfurled before their foggy eyes. Rakash, however, seemed genuinely clouded; was it possible he did not know her predicament? If right, a troubling one that would do little to mollify the soul, as Mazana understood what needed to happen next.
"Your charming fox, in a different life, we could have shared some intimate time. Rakash, my brother, forgive me. I have a confession to make; I was never mad at you. It feels good to drop the ruse, to be me one last time."
Mazana paused, looking toward the direction of the transport caravan, tapping her foot against the soil.
"13,872...that is the number of times I have lived this moment. And not once did Myrriah fail to arise victoriously. That has been my hell, trapped in a loop, forced to wound you Rakash each time. Comm'Orra wouldn't let me go, not till I found a way to tip the scales. Family, that was the answer, not mine, but Watari's. "
A tear rolling down that cheek, as the Djinn couldn't bring herself to look at the adorable rat.
"And, even in my moment of "victory," I have sinned once more. Listen carefully; I may only get the chance to say this one. Our world, this dream, has been reset continuously. Each time, the same name and faces rise, with only slight variances between iterations. I have tried to kill myself every day, but he won't let me die. That is why I could regrow my head. But, I broke the cycle, created a new path, utterly uncharted. What you do with that is up to you all. Rakash, do your sister one last favor. Live your life, find happiness, the one thing I have yearned and coveted after but only ascertained when we were still a family. Perhaps it was a deception, but at least it was my fiction to live. I love you, brother; you have no idea how hard this has been every time."
Comm'Orra materialized from thin air, by the transport carrying his desired prize, the weapon, Myrriah in all her arrogance thought could harm an Elder being. The being causing a 40ft eruption of immense force, blowing the metallic caravan into shrapnel. The Lord of deception had plans for this tool, so it bent the reality laws to preserve the stone prison. Anyone caught in its grasp would have their organs ruptures, bones shattered, and likely impaled by lethal, jagged sections of bronze. The explosion was sounding off in the distance, toward the location of the syndicate's cart housing the tomb. Mazana was letting out a heavy sigh before staring one final time into Rakash's multicolored mirrors.
The final drumbeat, the big reveal, and the truth of this reality is to be made known. It would be best if you stopped him, Rakash...forgive...m-"
Watari was partially correct, the body breaking apart before their eyes; one does not escape Comm'orra so effortlessly. But she wasn't let go either, more like presented a small reprieve.
"Watari, you're an astute fox, though, while you sensed something was off, you missed the mark, I am still a prisoner by fate. I may never see you again, little brother, please, remember me, as I will you."
And just like that, the Djinn was ripped from their plane and tossed back into the formless void. She was curling into a ball, rocking back and forth, as Mazana was left with nothing but those maddening screams. But, one thing did provoke a smile on that face, for the briefest of moments, the rose felt something...able to blossom and feel but the faintest of warmth on those sensory deprived petals.
-Rakash-
Hunter had moved to the rodent's side, giving such a lackluster apology, as if mere words would undo the anguish that she suffered due to his inactions. Turning his back to Mazana, the amphibian had begun to speak once again, this time looking at the rat as if speaking to him specifically; what could Hunter possibly hope to amend? The family Rakash cherished was eradicated, the empire and millions of innocent souls were to be destroyed, and all he had to say was that he wished to help and atone for his transgressions? It almost elicited a chuckle from the shattered vermin, which soon couldn't be held back after seeing the foux determination within the hybrid's eyes.
"Hunter, you and Myrriah destroyed this family, you betrayed Mazana, and millions of people die because of you, each step you make, each breath you take, and each time your heart beats...is robbed of those who deserve it more than you. Mazana's kidnapping? Your fault, the betrayal of Myrriah? You again, the millions of people dead? Yes, you had a hand in it too. The only thing you're right about is not deserving a second chance."
The rodent's laughter had subsided after a moment of saying his piece about Hunter. Rakash agreed with his new brother in ridding Matsumota of hunter's coat, his transgressions against his own family and those others that have to suffer due to him were too great to be ignored.
"You are deserving of nothing, brot-...hunter"
The rodent's blood began to boil as he barely clung to Watari's words of not letting his anger blind him. The arist words towards Mazana brought some semblance of calm as he offered the frigid rose to join them as a family; they could finally be a family. Rakash found Watari to be a respectable and vastly more honorable brother than his former, even though he didn't know about Matsumota that much; if she didn't care for the vermin, she wouldn't have adopted him in the first place. Together Rakash and Mazana could finally be a family again. The rat would be too distracted with reuniting with his sister to pay attention to the ramblings of Amun and Aiveera; all that mattered to the rodent was his family finally becoming whole once again.
"Mazana, Watari right, you come with us, we'll be a family again...Mazana, please; w-we'll happy again, without Hunter, without Myrriah. It'll be us, Watari, and the blood fox"
Rakash listened to Mazana's words; delusion still clouded his judgment; what could she apologize for? The Rakatta was in his little world with his sister, hearing Watari's words spoken about another sibling but retaining little as he focused on Mazana's words as she spoke. 13,872 times this has happened? Mazana was betrayed, abandoned, and tortured by Comm Orra that many times? The vermin couldn't fathom how she had hurt Rakash; his fractured mind couldn't process her words no matter how hard he tried, understanding that she wouldn't be saying these words unless something was going to happen, a single moment of clarity shone through. The rodent pulled Mazana in close and put his arms around her, hugging his sister.
"Mazana...nothing you do can hurt Rakash, we're family, always and forever, Rakash will live a happy life with you, together as family."
Explosions began sounding off in the distance, but the rodent only focused on his sister; everything was finally fine, everything good...the Rakatta had hoped everything was fine. It did take long before his sister began breaking apart in his arms. He struggled to hold onto her as his breath began to quicken, confusion and sadness began to take hold as Rakash began holding onto Mazana, not wanting to let go.
"H-Hey, M-Mazana, don't leave Rakash, please...w-we can be a family again...don't leave. W-We'll see each other, Rakash no knows when maybe tomorrow, next year...we'll be together, Rakash won't abandon you."
Tears began flowing for those bright eyes as Mazana broke away, comforting her as she curled up and started screaming. Rakash curled up on the floor, tears still pouring in as Matsumota gave him a farewell. Deaf to the explosions and numb to the world, Rakash was hollow beside the smoldering rage and sadness that began to consume him in his semi vegetated state.
-Mazana-
Like a distant scream, burrowing itself within that mind, Mazana could feel Rakash's torment. His wails, a stark reminder that wishes alone do not bring forth fruits of joy. For all her training, this rose was powerless to break free from the deluge of souls and energy vortexing around that cradled position: Rakash, her winsome of a soul brother, the only tangible thread left in her life. What point was power when those you cherish are left to wallow in destructive misery? Those tears running down soft cheeks, as vainly the Djinn struggled against the spiraling current keeping her pinned to the blackened floor. Damn him, Comm'Orra, torturing this fettered spirit by forcing her to bear witness to the end. Hope, that sweet word, a brittle notion, holding no jurisdiction with the Lord of Choas flesh.
But, just as Mazana was to abdicate herself, something altered this storm of desolation. A brilliant purple light perforated the darkness as the ephemeral solidified into a monolithic tunnel of congealed blood, muscle, pus-filled tumors, and bone. The climb would be long and arduous, each ascension up the ladder of perdition, spattering a repugnant concoction of organic fluids her way. The odor surpassed description, the texture that inundated her vessel, embedding itself endlessly within that cognizance. With every inch gained, the loops of purgatory they all suffered flickered within her mind. The frigid rose peered up, ramming through any organic impediments, these pimples rupturing, glazing the lithe form further. These victims were not due to Myrriah, rather, Comm'orra this entire time.
What a fool she was, like Hunter, to swallow such bittersweet deceptions. Her mother, while far from guiltless, was absolved of this misgiving.
"Forgive me..."
Those tears streaming, mingling with yellow stained lard, brownish purulence, and blackened hemoglobin. The vestige that was Mazana's body, breaking apart as the Lord of deception, retaliated for her hubris. Muscles tore, skin disintegrated in bursts, only for the wounds to mend. That vigor he had bequeathed the frigid rose, now utilized to keep the shell from falling asunder. Notwithstanding all the mental distraught, morbid recognition, and bodily mutilation, one thing kept her straining through it all. Rakash, he needed her, now, more so than ever before.
"I swear! No matter what today brings, brother! I will see to it we share a better tomorrow!"
Internally Comm'Orra found himself fascinated, such a tiny pest, yet the worm kept wiggling toward the surface. His concentration divided, feeling emasculated by the field generated by the weapon outside. No matter, no soul, regardless of how determined, can persevere through the mire of despondency sprawled out before the adventurous soul. Mazana picking up her pace, delving deep, extracting everything she had experienced, beheld, and acquired during her time in this mania inducing limbo. The constant barrage of souls attempting to commandeer the mind, take ownership of the body, as the Djinn contested them all one at a time. These anguish saturated entities deriding her unholy birthing, belittling her coalescence gender, all in a ploy to whittle away mental barricades
Mazana knew that while an abomination, a loathsome creature in the perspicacity of most, that she wasn't to be held accountable for such trifling details. For the first time in that depressing ballad that is her life, the Djinn conquered the one thing burdensomely pulling her down...doubt. Whether she developed from a womb, regardless if she was born a male, female, or an amalgamation, it didn't diminish the reality that she was a person, to quote Watari, "We think, therefore we are." This singular thought resounding continuously, asphyxiating out the racket of those would-be usurpers.
"I am Mazana, I think, therefore I am...I exist...."
The mantra divorcing itself from varnished lips, the climbing continued as nails shredded through the blubber and sinew, endeavoring to obstruct her ascension. The formerly divided will, now complete, no matter what, she will rise to stand alongside her brother.
The treacherous ladder to freedom, refusing to wane. Notwithstanding the elder one's less than inopportune position. The fleshly walls continued their regurgitation, as the mournful shrieks of those forgotten souls refused to desist. A lesser woman would have been crushed from all the anguish Mazana was subjected to, yet one thing kept her flame a kindle, love. Family, while a fleeting thing, held power over the minds of mortals. Comm'Orra's attention concentrated on those contending him outside, Watari and the AETU unit demonstrating to be the most nettlesome. It was this reprieve that loosened the bonds just enough for the Djinn to break free. The frosty witch was extending her hand, accumulating the moisture in the air, as she discharged a 5ft long, 4-inch thick spike of ice toward the closed top.
The tip pushing beyond the fleshly prison, puncturing so those on the outside domain could see the protruding projectile. The frigid rose, oblivious that Aiveera had lanced an explosive spear this way. The Elder pestered, having to quarrel with four insolent children, one of which endeavored to disrupt the reasoning for his tolerance prematurely. A crab-like limb was sprouting from the spine, extending forty feet as it shielded the others from the imminent eruption while laboring as a barrier to keep the lot contained. The wulfgar's attack connected, generating the intended effect, as a dense haze of particles obfuscated the impact point. The developed limb crumbled into ash afterward as something gorged on the Eldritch horror like a parasite. The link that had allowed Comm'Orra to torment the Djinn manipulated as a two-edged sword
"Clever girl."
The Lord of trickery groused, genuinely impressed by this child's stubbornness and adaptive nature. Mazana, whether she approved or not, was his champion, a vassal to serve in future affairs. Ironic, another puppet lurked within the group; at first, Matsumota was conceived to be Yuen'eth'nar the Elder one of turmoil servant. But that honor belonged to Watari, his trademark pollution radiating from that erroneous shell encapsulating the mortal's figure. The realm around them breaking apart, trembling at the foundations, as segments plummeted into the cold abyss below. Comm'Orra slamming his right foot, discharging a spherical blast of energy to toss back the weapon and the artist onto their rears. That orb vanishing as the horror prepared to finish off the painter as punishment for his arrogance. But, before he could demonstrate his attack, the chest cavity blasted outward in a deluge of bodily soups.
A cloud of flakey, freezing smoke pushing free as the boney tendril form of Mazana coasted free traveling on the APV like a Hoverboard. The plant implement changed, as it did a sharp turn to face Comm'Orra about twenty feet from his original location, kicking up some sand while performing the maneuver. The once delirium emanating woman, standing with certainty and intrepidity, as she stepped free from the device. Those heels were crushing the granules below, raising her hand to the front as the unfurled crystal flower rose, resting against the palm. A Large tentacle was sweeping across the heavens, as Zelena could be faintly seen whistling to get everyone's attention. Those honeyed eyes were looking toward Rakash, offering the rodent a smile, before returning that gaze toward the matter at hand.
"I told you to live your life, and you almost tossed it away. Run, you fools. I will keep my dear grandfather busy."
Comm'Orra laughing, finding this defiance exciting, who knows, perhaps this pawn would prove worth a few seconds of his time?
"Oh? I was hoping to play with your sister a bit longer, but I suppose you will suffice."
Mazana vowed to see a better tomorrow through with Rakash, and so, the Djinn had no intention to resign this day. Those brown eyes were engaging the pulsating luminosity that was the Lord of chaos. The hips were rocking as fingers snapped, the APV rotating as it spun around the aberration behind her suffering. A gelid storm brewing in figure-eight around herself and the target, giving Watari and the AETU a few seconds to retreat. The blizzard was encompassing sixty feet, creating a whiteout effect, as the frigid rose drew on all the energy she had stolen from the silvery pool and Comm's flesh.
"Rakash, I do this for you, my brother. I promise we will gaze into those binary setting suns one last time. Comm'Orra, I am Mazana Quil'Kovesh, a homunculus, a Djinn, a person. But the one thing I am not is your doll any longer! I reject your strings, I denounce your worth, and will fall or stand on my two legs!"
The colossal build-up of energy was incremental, Mazana planning ahead, had consumed the nexus and nibbled on the power of the Elder. If she ever desired to break free, save her brother and the others, she'd need to give it her all. Ironic, the Lord of deception and trickery, in his arrogance, had succumbed for his sphere. The ice was adhering to his form, made plausible by the dampening surges from earlier. She was encapsulating the horror in a prison as cold as his heart, as Mazana grappled with sustaining this pouring of chi. This was their chance, her gift, liberty, or death; there were no alternatives afforded to them. Zelena resting on the wiggling growth, its reach exceeding the pocket realm, as a sea of eyes floated around the feeler.
"Hurry!"
The emerald beauty cried as the earth started to bubble, bending, as it became self-evident this reality couldn't persist for long. While they retreated, the tortured maiden kept the villain at bay, recalling the tragedies she bore witness to during that dreaded ascension. Their faces, their names, those unsung dirges, forever brandished onto the consciousness. Mazana letting loose their collective rage, using the energy harvested in a pitiable attempt to wound the Lord of Choas. Within this limbo, Comm'Orra was nigh unkillable; however, his ego wouldn't prove as resilient.
The frigid storm, colder than the blackness her heart endured. How poetic, the will that had incarcerated her, for the shortest of times passage, sustained a similar fate, albeit infinitely more bearable. This haughty prince of ruination, the grand conspirator, had presumed authority, but no one, could ever cage this unfettered soul. The others were freed from his clutches as the land around them flipped, bent, and twisted in maddening ways. Time, space, often regarded as constants, were malleable by nature. Intervals ebbing and flowing at differing fluctuations, as the elder being found himself encased in a glacier.
This reprieve, a singular window for retreat scarcely afforded, as the mischievous spirit dared not squander it. The sands around curling, forming a cylinder-like shape, as Mazana sprang into the air, riding on that hovering rose of wind and frost. The granules below rolling about, kicking up a sandstorm, as the brownish haze mingled with the wintry cloud propelling the spirit. Comm'Orra, shrieking, as the brittle shackles shattered, the trap lasting about as long as the chilly beauty could have hoped. His bellows, causing the foundations to quiver, as the velocity of the regions oscillation picked up in vehemence.
That glimpse of a retreating tentacle catching her eye, the veil raised, yet hope persisted despite all that had ensued. Her beloved sibling, Rakash, wouldn't relinquish hope for her! This inspiration fueled the vessel, as the Lord of revolution regurgitated a deluge of swarming insects. The crashing expulsion of bile, like a rivulet, raced toward the speedy prey. There was no escape in sight, and so, a leap of faith proved her only option. The hand was stretching forward, marshaling what residual power she had to twist the space one last time—Mirage's extension, their repulsive transport, sticking close to the wall denoted by AETU-2. The once hardened surface was bubbling outward before popping like a pimple.
Mazana was placing her forearms in front of her, in the contour of an x. An effort to shield herself from any possible fragments. The acidic liquid rushing from the gaped orifice, crashing as it only made it 20ft across the expanse. An explosion of gold and kaleidoscopic embers encapsulated the Djinn, before those heels kicked free from the airborne device. The hand was reaching outward, the face cut, the back littered in whip lacerations, and the body caked in filth beyond description. Tears drifted from her cheek. Those honeyed orbs locked on her brother in some hollow attempt to convey the anguish. If he reached out, the spirit would be left dangling, her form whipping in the torrent of wind, as the APV rested against the lower back.
"Rakash!"
The brilliant glow did little to deter the rodent, Rakash seeing his sister speeding from the newly founded hole, wasted no time in reaching out. His nimble hands were grasping the Djinn by the forearm as she dangled above the vast abyss below. Those honeyed eyes were peering up at his multicolored lens, as Rakash initially strained to reel the spirit inward. For a fleeting instance, Mazana queried if this would all prove for naught if, by some chance to save her brother, she'd have to let go during this moment of liberation. That grisly thought scattered as Watari offered support to the rat, placing those mighty callous hands on those shoulders, offering much-needed support and leverage. That ravenous void below could wait, as her brother managed to hoist the frost witch into those arms, embracing her. The two resting on the spongey growth, that unnatural transportation, as the entirety of the domain triturated into specks and fell to the umbra.
Comm'Orra, his reach, having been refuted, his prowess, repudiated. He was left to wallow in the mire of wrath, swearing vengeance on his champion, the granddaughter that eluded his presumed infallible clutches. As the shade abated, presenting the binary sun's rays beating against olive skin ushered a sense of respite. For too long, she had known nothing but the darkness, been consumed by it, nurtured by the heartless expanse of tormented souls. To the point that Mazana had almost forgotten the white sands of her home. The warmth afforded by that arid dominion of mortality, whole heartily embraced. Off on the horizon, the gelid matron could see the pinkish glow of setting suns sprawling forth across the heavens.
Mazana dropping to those knees, sniffling as tears tarried from glazed eyes of brown. Such a simple sight, an everyday occurrence seldom worthy of recognition, had come across as a magnum opus of artistry. Never would the tortured soul thought it possible to behold such splendor with those delirium enriched windows to the soul.
"P-perfect..."
One cannot appreciate what they possess till it is all stripped from their ungrateful hands. The world that was bellowing its final labored wails would soon take its place within the former epochs, as the future around the corner may reveal itself yet. Her family may be fractured but from that scythe thought devoid of clemency. A single rose had been sparred amongst the field of decapitated blades of grass. Rakash, her sibling, remained, as they were bequeathed another chance to build a better future, a better tomorrow...