Chapter 63: From person to person. (4)

Chapter 63: From person to person. (4)

It heard a knocking. Within the darkness, within the emptiness, within that eternity, it heard a knocking. Crimson lines came alive with light for but a moment, shedding some light on its prison after countless years. It couldn’t see any of it, but it could feel it.

Iras?

A thought echoed throughout the prison as the red lines faded again. No sound so this wasn’t the part that held its head or heart. Was it just a mistake, a trick of the mind?

Then came another knock. The lines lit up again, light flashing across its prison again. Once could be a trick of the mind, but twice was never a coincidence. And sure enough, another knock quickly came.

It heard the lines shift, it felt the light bathe its scales. The prison... it was opening. Iras had come for him at last. Finally, this endless waiting could come to an end.

But then... Why hadn’t Iras gone for the head or the heart?

More knocking, and finally the last ‘key’ slid into place with the loudest knock. The lines slid apart with a terrible sound, one it could feel reverberate through its bones. And then, a gust of wind. Cold, fresh, almost piercing due to how long it had been since it got to feel it.

Still black, as if the ‘bars’ were still twined tightly around it. Right, this wasn’t the head or the heart, of course it couldn’t see. But it had to see. It had to understand why Iras came here first.

Tap into the connection, check. The other pieces are still out there, trapped within eternal prisons as they wait. Nudge them, urge them, borrow from them. In the end it’ll either be whole or nothing so just borrowing is fine. One eye, a second, a third, a fourth, in the end, it got to borrow 8 out of 99. 99... so close to the divine 100...

Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. One by one they crack open, true light reflected in them for the first time in ages. A cloud of dust surrounded it. Dust. Why dust? Iras wouldn’t have raised any dust, things would simply fade after he passed. So why dust?

And then it saw them.

The Primitives. The annoyingly stubborn hairless primates that had been brought to their world by Akarash. A group of them had gathered around it, gawking down at it with stunned expressions. The power of Iras wreathed one of them, a figure with red eyes and violet fur.

But that was impossible... There’s no way the Primitives should be able to acquire Iras... And then it looked closer, harder.

It could see it within them, inside the Primitives that gathered around it. Eras in the one with brown fur, Arais in the one with yellow fur, Katush in the other one with brown fur, Javal in the one with with pale yellow fur, one of them even had itself, Azui.

The one that was wreathed in Iras... Its eyes hurt from looking at that primate. Iras, Lagor, Maakar, Javal, Mulag, Duvak, Anak, Natar... the primitive reeked of them all. Just when... When had they all been taken down?

Time... Had time really been that cruel to them? Had Akarash brought that much ruin with it?

Its eyes trailed a bit more, spotting a primitive with black fur and dark pink eyes. Iras, Waraya, and Lagor, it reeked of the three of them. But there was something more. On its neck, stretching from the back to the front and covering part of its torso, the mark of Lament.

Lament... Did it have something to do with the primitives bringing down the others? That particular one... Always did seem so full of hate and loathing.

In that case... Who would ever give it its last rites?

AAaahhhhhHHHHAAAHHHHH

A scream, a roar, a cry, it couldn’t tell. And neither could the world. In the end, it had only borrowed eyes, not the mouth. Freedom was lost, the primitives had torn down the others... In the end, it could only do as Lament did.

Azui rose around it, came from within it. Like nails they gathered around it and then shot out. Like a decree they returned the world, and the primitives, to Azui.

But these primitives were faster than the ones it was used to. They evaded, they used the fallen names to erect defences that shielded them. It could even sense it... Karas. One that had reached the divine 100, one of these primates reeked of it.

It tried to use Karas to bind it, spouting unfamiliar words to both the primates and the traitors they had brought along. Its eyes moved. Karas... It wanted to see exactly what sort of primate was granted one of the divine.

But... There was nothing there. At the source of the stench of Karas, and Waraya, there was nothing. Invisible? Or was the primate moving that fast?

No... The scent wasn’t moving that fast so it couldn’t be speed? So why was it hidden? Ah, perhaps it will find out once its touched by Azui. Like little talons, they gathered, and then they shot out again to bless the world with its decree.

The scent vanished. The primitive must have disappeared. The scent appeared beneath it again, replacing one of the chains. Was this it? Was this what it could muster with Karas? It would cry if it knew.

Katush rose from below. Strange, the primitive didn’t smell of Katush. Had they invented something new after taking down the others? But oh well, Katush couldn’t do anything to it so it wasn’t something to worry about. The primitive also swung something, a glint passing through the air.

But when the thing struck it, it realized that it had nothing to worry about. It barely left a dent in its talons, Karas would definitely cry if it knew. It was using a lot of power to keep this form going even without the heart or head present, but the invisible primitive still couldn’t harm it. Once it knew, it could stop paying attention to the invisible primitive and focus on the traitor and primitive above.

All its eyes focused on the swirling thing. The Alastor pretender shielded the thing, but the Azui it sent out still struck the swirling thing and sent it flying away. It wanted to chase it immediately, but the primitives kept attacking it. It was missing a finger now so there was a good place for them to attack, the weaker gnats were all focusing on that wound to tear it open.

And they just kept attacking, and attacking, and attacking, and attacking. It got to thin their numbers a little, but after a short while the violet-furred one joined in again along with its two traitors.

The swirling thing seemed to be talking with the primitives for a few moments, but the attacks never ceased. They tore at its wound without end, gnawing like gnats. Gnawing. Gnawing. Gnawing.

Eventually, the swirling thing stepped away, but the primitives only furthered their attacks. The one with Tarak kept pinning it down, and then the one bearing the mark of Lament took advantage of that opening.

Danger.

It felt it again, a sensation of danger. But not from the thing this time. No, it was from that primitive, a primitive it couldn’t even call a thing. The primitive swung its weapon the instant it had finished breaking free of the Tarak and was about to escape.

Pain again. The weapon tore through another one of its fingers, the force of the attack even cleaving through a second one of its fingers. Two fingers. A primitive had robbed it of two fingers.

It wanted to retaliate and kill the primitive, who looked weakened, but the other primitives just stepped in to shield it. They tore at the new wounds like gnats. Gnawing. Gnawing. Gnawing. Gnawing. Each attack worsened the wounds, forcing it to expend more energy.

Then it noticed something. Rushing towards them, a group of descendants. They looked like humanoid-lizards wielding Azui. Were they perhaps descendants of it? A primitive was running from them, had they perhaps come to help it?

But then the thing moved. It rushed into the midst of the descendants and used the Alastor pretender to tear open the largest one.

"#¤%#¤%#, Sarash."

The thing uttered a word that made every fibre of its being ache, a light rising up from the descendant that quickly swallowed the thing. The light then sank into the thing, gathering in the ‘hand’ of the swirling mass. And then the world around it started to die. The descendants, the world itself, everything just died and sank into it. And finally, the hand that gathered the light took on form.

No longer was it a swirling mass, it was a claw covered in dark purple scales. Purple, a colour that didn’t belong to this world. A colour that not even Akarash had been able to bring into this world. It was only thanks to the Divine that it knew of it.

Danger. Danger. Danger.

It felt it, from the depths of its own existence. That thing was dangerous. The hand, the swirling thing, it was dangerous.

"Nergal..."

The thing spoke again and the Alastor pretender moved. Eyes appeared in its swamp-like body. Yes, those weren’t the eyes of Alastor, that thing truly was just a pretender. But what sort of thing could pretend to be Alastor, who had vanished from existence?

The pretender crept under it again, taking advantage of all the attacks that hit it. It latched onto it with tendrils and pulled it down, the traitors and the primitives helping it. Its maw stretched out and bit down on three of its remaining fingers, the teeth grinding against the scales.

It could feel it. The scales were dissolving, vanishing. That pretender, it was grinding down on its existence. Scales that grew too thin cracked, blood spilling into the maw of the pretender. And as the pretender drank its blood, it saw it.

Light, dark and terrible, coming from the swirling thing. It was like the time Gula helped Sylvana first rise, illuminating the land they had wrought.

And then the swirling thing arrived in front of it. It was wreathed in Iras so it was faster than before. The claw it had... That purple thing, it smashed against it with immense force.

The pretender below, it took this chance to bite down even harder on its fingers, tearing all three of them by grinding its scales and existence down. There was nothing to anchor it, so it had to bear the full force of that attack.

Scales cracked, flesh was rent, and bones cracked. That thing struck with force deserving of being deemed dangerous. It shot through the air as a result, crashing into a mountain a distance away. The swirling thing quickly following.

Six out of eight fingers were gone, 5 out of the 99 eyes had exploded. It was bad. Extremely so. The attacks that had never stopped raining on it, the primitives that kept gnawing at it, they had brought it here.

The swirling thing eventually arrived by it. The thing missed at first, but eventually stopped in front of it. In this moment of silence, it felt like it could see the swirling thing properly for the first time. The darkness that spun inside its humanoid frame, the soft light shining in its depth... It all seemed to be screaming. A sound given form, or perhaps an emotion. Lament had felt like much the same.

The more it looked into that swirling mass, the more distant everything felt. It couldn’t muster any strength, it couldn’t pull itself away from that whirlpool. It still had strength, it could still fight. But the whirlpool... the thing... It kept tugging at it, drawing it in. And then the thing placed a ‘hand’ on it. The claw was gone, replaced by that swirling mass.

Deeper and deeper into the whirlpool, deeper and deeper. It started to feel as if that whirlpool was the only thing that ever existed, the only thing that needed to exist. It called to it... Beckoned it... Sang to it like Iras used to. And then, the thing spoke again.

"#¤%#¤%#, Sarash."

And with that, the whirlpool drew it in. With that, the whirlpool became everything.