Issue 35: Light Extinguished
Hextor has gathered all of Urraden’s host to him. From all the former cycles. He doesn’t move fast enough! We must take matters into our own hands.--Fragment of the Hidden Dominion
E’ratha desires a new form. I shall give her one.--Hextor Urraden
This was the purpose of the old souls. The shambling bodies. The endless Void Walker clones. We shall not survive Chronos.--Lilith
Flagship Coils of The Mother
In Orbit of N-Typha
March 8th 5490 A.C
Hextor watched as the mechanized arms lifted E’ratha’s renewed form onto the birthing pod. The membranes sparked. Her fingers clawed at the outer edges. Hextor held out one hand. “She must do this herself.”
The blackened forms of the Reavers paused. Their sharpened fangs protruded from twisted lips. They were the former personal guard of his house. Blessed with the singular thread of the All-Mother. Not that pretender. They had both called themselves the Lord and Lady of Tarkanan. Each brick had wasted away as the cycles continued. Abbadon had thought himself a creator. A ruler.
Hextor sneered, “None are above the Dark of the All-Mother. It is she who rebelled against the folly of the All-Father. It is because of her we have the choice. They call him Oversoul. As if that encapsulates all truth.”
Chronos threatened that truth.
He desired more than his blessed place at her side.
Three sons of the Dark.
Thoth, Lucifer and Chronos.
Granted the gifts beyond mortal ken. What did that emaciated Void Walker do? Broke his soul apart into trinkets. To be wasted. Diluting his power for what? To be known by endless names and vices of mortals? Even now his broken forms clawed at the embers. E’ratha howled as she emerged from the membrane. Her ragged breath frosted the air. Hextor waited.
He had made sure every part of her was perfect.
Even her own Primary Branch family wouldn’t recognize her.
He smiled, “Excellent.”
∞
E’ratha crawled.
Her body ached. Her eyes grew accustomed to the dark.
Hextor reclined upon his throne. Anointed by the Mother. She knew now why she had been routed by J’ino and the rest. She had believed the lies of Chronos. He was a false messiah. A reconstituted doll filling endless corpses. What had been the point of Abbadon? Being the serpent in the garden every cycle? What had he really accomplished? Convergence had given the enemy a fighting chance.
Thoth crouched next to her.
His form nearly translucent.
“Oh? Haven’t figured it out yet?”
Dreamweaver eyes. Orbs of glass and fire.
He gestured with his knife, “They all serve in the end.”
Her fingers brushed the base of the dais.
Thoth added gaily, “Just as you did.”
She snarled at him.
Hextor’s eyes locked onto her. Daring her to climb.
Her body shivered in the dim glow of the throne room.
Her muscles struggled to obey. As helpless as a newborn. But whole. She luxuriated in the renewed power flowing from her Typherian nodes. Thoth leaned in close. His lips touched her ear. “Ask yourself why he needed the Devourer’s form.”
Hextor summoned his Black Scrawl blade. The tip floated just behind Thoth’s right ear.
The Twin Blades of the Unity All-Mother hissed, “Transgression!” Hunin pulsed with a muted golden aura. While its sister blade bleated from Thoth’s hip. Its aura a vibrant green. They had taken the old forms. One’s that even Hextor wouldn’t recognize.
Hextor hooked his thumbs into his belt as he reclined upon his Throne.
Three small drops of blood fell to the deck as he motioned to Thoth.
Thoth bowed. His left fist over his heart, “As you will it.”
The projection faded as Thoth’s physical host awakened from its normalized sleep cycle. The remaining threads of the Dreamweaver’s abilities dissipated as if they had never existed.
E’ratha said, “How is it that the Dreamweaver of all things survived?”
Hextor flicked his index finger. Silken robes conformed to E’ratha’s body.
He answered plainly, “To make us remember. Every power comes with a price.”
∞
Lucifer’s hands ran against the southern wall of the Banner museum.
Others within the Protectorate indicated the “all clear” signal with a quick set of frequencies. Time was running short. Already the visions wormed their way into his brain. Chronos had never desired his own form. Rather the only point was to procure a form that would let him endure beyond the sway of both Mother and Father.
He muttered under his breath, “A son of lesser sons.”
Moonlighter turned, “...agreed.”
The other demi crossed himself. Lucifer bowed his head to cover his annoyance.
Here he was. Stuck in a mortal demi body. While Thoth and Chronos moved their pieces into place. Mother was coming home to collect everyone. With their Father on her heels. All would be forced to choose. To think that runt everyone knew as Meathook would be key. It was sheer madness. That one housed the First Blood. Tu-in.
There was truth within the division of the Three.
Oversoul O’rammu, the All-Father on High.
N’othara, the All-Mother of Endless Night. Also known as the Nothing. Mother of all Entropy. The knife which bled into the Firsts of Eden. Along with her first shell, Chronos. Thoth, reconstituted from the darkest of dreamers.
His reawakened memory flowed through the endless permutations. The third Aspect had never been revealed to him. The Golden Host had never been privy to such matters. Even then the Oversoul had know of his treachery.
Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, “Feel this?”
Moonlighter attempted to phase through. He bounced off the wall. His boots skidded off the grass. “Extraordinary!”
Lucifer winced as the wards repelled him.
This was made for one person.
“We better get Star on this. Where is she anyway? Didn’t the Protectorate higher ups clue her in?”
∞
Omu’sol plucked the strings.
His purple fingers flashed golden for a split second. The spider thin tattoos channeled his power into the Three Foundations.
The instrument hummed. He smiled as the familiar red, white and blue figure landed. Star took a seat after a slight hesitation. Her head cocked to the side, “They are already asking for me back at New Ashbury.”
He continued to play, “….tell me, how do you see this ending?”
Star considered the simple garden arrayed around her. The stone echoed with a long forgotten energy. Her eyes flashed with the golden brilliance of the cosmos. Then the energy receded. Leaving her legacy naked for all to see. Her Ayeer gray irises were lined with gold at the center. The black sclera offset by the mark of all Three. His mark was hidden. As with all the cycles. What the Mother had tore from him from the Breaking of the Three would come back to haunt her.
Star replied, “The Vigil. What we do now will ripple across all universes.”
Omu’sol tapped the hollowed curve of the instrument.
She listened as the Tarvelian continued to pluck at the strings.
The Tarvelian grinned, “Just so. But which aspect shall hold dominion?”
∞
The music cut through all other noise.
Beautiful in its simplicity. I considered the ancient man next to me. Golden threads crisscrossed his hands, arms and upper torso. Pulsating in time with the melody. The words came unbidden, “The Stars Above. Reignited. May their Light Encompass All. Leading Us from Darkness.” It was an old motto. One nearly forgotten. He smiled.
“Yes. They were stolen from me.”
I sucked in a breath. “She took them.”
The Typherian Houses. Set’s corruption, in reality, Lucifer’s had allowed for the Uplift Protocol to worm its way into every aspect of that society. But not just Typha. Everyone. Even Earth. Each of the Three vying for a piece of the Tapestry. Entropy, the final death. The bright band of Light. Life everlasting. The one in-between. Made to watch both. Encompass everything.
The reasons for Convergence were laid bare.
The Three were making for a final sweep. What would remain would be decided by mortal and demi alike. I didn’t consider myself a betting woman. But I had faith. Omu’sol spoke, his words measured, “Each string of mortal kind was offered a glimpse into the Foundations of all Three.”
“Humanity favored the blazing Light of the Oversoul. To seek beyond the Stars.”
“Typha was divided. The Commons recognized the need for Life and Death. So they found a link to the Tarvelians.”
My fingers curled into fists.
“Most of the Houses went wholesale into the arms of….”
Auggie sneezed. <<What caused the Mother to renounce her role?>>
I paused.
Omu’sol replied, “She wished to govern all three. Saying that only the feminine could understand the value of life and death. Since they were forced to give life unto the children within the womb.”
I thought of my parents. “Forced? Last time I checked it usually requires teamwork to have children.”
Omu’sol gestured to the garden with his instrument.
“The Ayeer still understand this fundamental notion. Alongside humanity and her allies. It helps that a certain set of Urraden twins know this.”
I studied the plains of his face. Every curve.
“Tarvel was the first interstellar nation.”
Omu’sol smiled up at me. He made a small gesture.
“They interbred with the first Typherians they met.”
The picture cleared to a cutting edge.
Data flowed across my HUD.
I clicked the file open with one twitch of my eye.
T.S.S Patterns of Light
In Orbit of Typha
Age of Expansion//Syncing with Tarvelian Cycle Archives
Ramarik studied the unusual planet.
Its outer white shell gleamed in the light of its twin suns.
His first officer motioned to the displays, “They have anti-grav power sources.”
Another added, “Three orbital platforms detected. One is still running on nuclear high matter.”
Ramarik launched the probe. It shimmered. All three layers coiled about it. Weave, physical and soul. As was proper. It teleported. Their screens filled with the wonders of another society. At the brink of self discovery. The patterns of Light Shamans hummed. Though they called them by another name here. Three men, their armor etched with warding sigils met upon a battlefield.
The translated words echoed across the bridge.
“Hextor! Renounce the evils of her House! The Hidden has no sway here!”
“My dear castoff. You are blinded by Ayeer promises. The only path to our victory is to obey her. Already she warned me of the Outsiders. Those who would poison us!”
The probe translated the threaded structures of the individuals. Noting their impressions within the Tapestry. C’alain. First of the Ayeers. Builder of the Wall of Soul Memory. The defacto ruler of Typha. O’rammu’s blessings shined the brightest against the flecks of the Shadowed Wife. The other would be Hextor. First hand of the Dark. Howler at the Gates. N’othara’s Lies curled about his soul akin to a second skin.
The final man gave Ramarik pause. Both patterns circled him. Yet remained outside of his reach. This one would be the final point. He was an Urraden of the 2nd Branch. Demoted due to his defective golden eyes. A sign that he rejected the power of N’othara. A phantom hand curled about that one. Lines would intersect.
Ramarik gave the command.
In order to smash the coils of the false Ouro they would land.
As he descended the main ramp his red hair caught the eye of another.
A union that would tip the balance forever.
The sharp crack of a bullet rang out. Hextor stumbled backwards as the Ayeer host surged forward. Ramarik held out his hands. Urraden’s forces stumbled as gravity bored down on them. He shouted, “By the Wall of Adamant we shall endure!”
One Urraden underling howled as the hated Ayeers took up defensive positions.
E’var Urranden’s golden eyes sized up the newcomers. It had been in Typherian. If rather robotic. Their purple skin and outlandish tattooed faces hummed with power. A white clad officer made a sharp cutting motion and another one of Hextor’s commanders went flying across the field. He landed in a dull thud over 30 feet away.
A few House members had powers. But this was different.
The tallest of the outlanders, with a neatly trimmed red beard, stepped forward.
“Hail to the Pattern of Light. May the Oversoul bless you.”
C’alain stiffened as they named the Father. Light of all Souls.
The visions never lied. The great dark was already upon them. He motioned to his men, “Form up! Who knows what….”
A vibrant pillar of green light blazed across the ground.
Hextor bowed mockingly. “Be seeing you. Builder.”
C’alain dashed towards the spot where Hextor had been. Only burnt grass and ozone remained. The dark mirrors. For all to live? This cycle would be reborn. He met the gaze of the purple skinned captain. “Welcome to Typha. If you are here to warn us of the Void Walkers. You are a bit late.”
Ramarik pulled out his family mirror. Held it up to the Typherians before him.
“That is not our mission.”
C’alain peered into the depths. His frown grew.
“Is that the only way?” He did not doubt the other man. For this was Light Sage work. Of the finest order. The patterns rippled across his skin. All aspects of the Three had been corrupted by the Hidden One. He bowed his head, “Then let us prepare.”
For all to live? This cycle would fade.
C’alain vowed, “By each brick….”
Ramarik finished,”...we seed the future.”
Issue 34: Here
Interlude Witchlights: Here
No comments:
Post a Comment