187. The Sound of a Gentle Clock

187. The Sound of a Gentle Clock

Frost began to move again, and this time, she noticed that she was finally able to approach the Site Core at a reasonable rate. The Black Horsemen never allowed her to get close. The flames she possessed frightened it despite its relatively moot tone.

“Why are you so afraid of me? Hey... Hey! Please, listen. Is... Is it true that I destroyed the old world?” She asked.

“I believe you should not feel guilty as you are, for you do not remember your old self. The Original would weep if they heard such guilt reek from those supple lips. This world is one and the same, but still anew.” It said, finally stopping in place.

This time, it allowed Frost to approach. The creature was much larger up close.

“But it is true. To a certain extent.” It admitted, never revealing the full picture to her for an unknown reason.

As much as it frustrated her, she was at least happy to have some answers now from this mysterious entity group.

They were helpful. That’s what she gathered, but there was a certain air of malevolence that she could not ignore. Standing side by side with this monster, and as they stared up at the colossal Site Core, she asked what its purpose was.

“It is but an egg. Within is a bird waiting to hatch once more. It is the Original. Fragments of it. Why do I tell you this, you may wonder. I do not know. But I am compelled to tell you, as I recognize you as who you were. Afterall, I am a fragment of the Original itself. The Original wouldn’t want it any other way, as much as it would sadden them.”

“Do you know who the Original is? Do they have a name?” Frost quietly asked as Nav focused on something.

“Many things. But they have one true name. If you are not aware, then it is for the best.” The Black Horseman answered. “I do not wish to fight you. Though we are ever existent, my instincts tell me that I may taste death in your arms. An unwarranted victory over our test, but a victory nonetheless.”

“Test?”

“The Site Core, in the end, is a construct of the Ateliers. ImpulseWorks by design, is to temper aspirations. We merely exist within it, for it connects to us from a layer so deep beneath our world that only the truly condemned may enter. For repentance. Where we are is deeper than the Derma layer, but not deep enough to reach it.”

It slowly moved in the direction of the Site Core, begging Frost to remain where she stood.

“Nex is invaluable to us. Much more than the Ateliers. Our hunger for Nex is insatiable. It is why we demand that a Site must only house their best. That in the end, will have those same people fundamentally changed, for better or worse.” The Horseman of famine trailed off as a small swarm of locusts suddenly followed like a small haze.

Frost was at a loss for words with her encounter with these beings. Their intentions were not clear, attempting to awaken the Original. Not that she even knew what it meant.

But what she did know, was that it was somehow related to both herself, and her past. Possibly Nav and the Archivist. Maybe even the Archetypes themselves.

“Is that what they mean by temper aspirations?” Frost quietly asked herself, her voice managing to reach the earless Horseman.

“You are as fast as the Original remembers.” It commented. “My purpose is to test their hunger. Their tolerance or a very deep, instinctual urge. Famine is an illness of civilization itself, and it seeps to the core of our morality. Survival takes over rationality.”

Suddenly, the Site Core blinked as the accretion disk burnt a vibrant gold for only a split second.

< Interaction denied >

Suddenly, the world began to warp inwards like a giant sphere. It devoured all in its path, spreading them thin across its boundary in a truly fantastical manner. Fear did not ensnare her. She recognized that this was likely how they were going to be sent back to the upper layers.

And since Frost had the opportunity to speak with the Aberrations themselves, she suddenly called out to the Horseman for a peculiar request.

“Wait – Can I ask you a favor!?”

“A favor?” The Black Horseman froze, surprised to hear this come out of Frost’s mouth.

Just what kind of person was she in the past?

“Do you know the new Site that’s going up in a month or two!? G-Z7!?”

“In place of the first Site? A favor it is. Only because it is you who asks.” The Horseman allowed.

The Navigator was stuck in her mind. Frost felt sorry for the woman, who was destined to help run arguably the hardest Site in Elysia. General Sites were the combination of all Sites into one, and if she struggled here in a Facility, then there was little hope for her in a General Site.

Therefore, before the world could completely collapse into itself like a black hole, Frost yelled out at the top of her lungs.

“Can you look after the Navigator!? Her name’s Papilia –!”

Suddenly, all went black. All senses disappeared in that instant, but she could still hear the faint ticking.

Then, she heard the Black Horseman utter one last thing.

“... I hope you remain as kind as you are. For the Original’s sake. It will be up to them to decide.”

Tick...

Tock...

Badump.

Badump...

Tick...

The calming ticking was all that played in the dark world behind her eyelids. Afterwards, she felt something warm press against her cheek, and when she rouse awake, she found herself resting on the lap of a worried Jury.

And as expected, Jury’s ticking heart was far more soothing than the Site Core’s.