BOOK V

CHAINS OF FREEDOM

VOLUME XVII

INCEPTION

CHAPTER 401

PROVENANCE

"Where... am I?" she whispered softly into the swirling gasses surrounding her. It was an unpleasant experience, the smell of burnt charcoal piercing her nostrils. The only sound she could hear was a low, persistent, grating hum coming from seemingly everywhere at the same time. There were no colors but the ashen and black, and there were no discernible objects she could perceive. It was dark and dim and dry, and it was lonely. Terribly, terribly lonely. "H-hello...?"

She called out repeatedly, for the time she could not count as she didn't understand it; her meek, mellow voice barreled out into the existing nothingness, searching for something, for someone... yet it found nothing and no one. Fear gripped her heart tightly as a thought submerged her: she was alone. All alone, cast into this dark and terrible world. She hadn't a vice to realize she didn't even know who she was; or rather, where she came from. In her mind, she was always herself, a nameless entity, and her voice was always hers.

"... a-anyone... out there?" nobody replied. There was nothing, there was no one, only her. She couldn't see herself, nor did she have the mind to try; who was she? She was herself, she would answer if anyone was there to ask. Always was, since her inception.

Down and up and all around, it was only clouded darkness. Occasionally, she could swear, she would see brief flashes, flickers of distant light. Colors of it changed, from golden to crimson to azure, but she convinced herself she was just imagining them -- they were not there... her heart only desired they were there.

Over time, she had begun to realize something -- she was changing. Her voice was growing mellower, yet a pitch deeper; she felt as though she was growing, expanding, enlarging. She was still herself, as she always was, yet she was something, someone different as well.

She still couldn't quite understand where she was, or why was she here, or anything past the small corner she never dared leave. In vain hopes, she awaited for whoever put her here to return. They would return, she knew. She only had to sit in place and await the fated day. They would appear to banish the ashen clouds with beautiful lights accompanying them, illuminating the whole world. They would come.

“Come... Gaia is waiting...” she knew her name, somehow. It was her name, as it always was. She didn’t know what a name meant, but she knew it was important to her. Something she should never forget. Something she can’t ever forget.

In her heart, she felt it was a present from them, from those who left her here, and if she forgot... it would be that she would forever remain clad in the mantle of loneliness. She hated it, the feelings it brought over her. That is why she enjoyed sleeping as much as possible; in her dreams, she was never alone. There were those just like her, laughing, chatting, calling her name. Gaia... Gaia... she loved the sound of it. It soothed her heart.

Though, she always woke up and dreaded it. She was all alone, once more. They weren't there no more, and there was no one to say, Gaia. Only the low, annoying hum coming from all around her. She feared moving as she might drift away, yet many times she was close to chasing after the source of the hum and ending it. Low, persistent, even...

“You are insane!!!” she shook, broke -- they are here!! She cried out inwardly, rapidly looking around. However, it was all the same. No lights were battering away at the ashen dark. There was no them, they who left her here. But, she knew, she didn't imagine that voice. She wasn't dreaming. She never heard that voice before. In the mundane, same, repetitive world, it was a newcomer. Something different.

“You are hurting her!!” a different voice, a different sound. Older, deeper. Angrier. Painful.

“We can’t continue like this...” a sigh, a deep echo, overtaking annoying hum.

"The Silver City is falling..." a weep, a cry, a singular tear -- she could hear it drop, splash against thick stone, fill the gaps and crevices. "We're all going to die..."

“... it’s all his fault!!” anger, rage, pain. They compounded into a singularity roaring with anguish. She could hear it, feel all the voice felt inside her own heart. “We can’t let him do as he pleases any more!”

“N-no!! Don’t! Don’t kill her!!” blood, dark, deep red began to break through the gas clouds. She felt horrified, tucking herself further in. W-w-what is going on?! though rejoicing all the voices were no longer just inside of her head, she worried just as much.

“Who are you?!” another voice, a different voice, a younger voice. “You aren’t one of us! You were never one of us!! Tell us!”

“I was always one of you.” another voice. A robotic one. Emotionless. Dry. Empty. Low. Persistent. Grating.

“Primes are invading the Silver City!!”

“Our defenses have been breached!!”

“Where is Glen?!!”

“H-he--he killed an Archangel!!!”

“They’ve crossed the inner walls! They are headed for the Silver Palace!!”

“It’s come to this...” an archaic, strangely familiar voice startled Gaia. She heard it somewhere... perhaps in her dreams, perhaps during the time before she could remember. “We can’t let the cycle repeat itself. Not again.”

“How did he follow us?”

“How did he find us?”

“Why didn’t he die with the rest?”

“We made sure to hide the selection of the world!”

“He followed us through a tunnel.”

“He doesn’t need to go through a tunnel.”

“He’s here.”

“All of them are here.” Gaia trembled as the world around her quaked and shook, grated by the ever-increasing volume of the low hum. “Throw the storage away. He can’t have it.”

“We can’t doom another world, Erus.” Gaia couldn’t understand what they were saying, or why they were saying it. All she could do was memorize it and enjoy the voices, however horrid they were. After all, they broke apart the solitude, the dreaded, persistent hum.

“You’ve doomed no worlds, Opilio.” that robotic voice she heard several times echoed again, ever-the-same, ever the low and persistent. “Don’t crown yourself. Give it to me now and spare yourselves any further pain.”

“... no.”

“We will never give.”

“You can’t have it.”

“It’s our heart and soul!”

“It belongs to us!”

“... ever the honorable...”

The voices ceased. Silence once again fell over her small domain. She shuddered as she felt something warm caress her eyes. Warm and wet and long. It streaked down and fell, endlessly, in the river of nothingness. She didn’t know why. She didn’t how what the feeling inside of her was. It was strange. Alien. Painful. Like the loneliness.

“They hid it...” the robotic voice was back, low, persistent... yet lonely.

“You’ll find it...”

“I won’t search for it... let it rest.”

“You’ve chased it all the way here, for countless eons.” pain inside of her grew. Emotions swept past the loneliness... for, in that robotic voice, she felt the ilk of solitude well beyond hers. “You can’t let it go now.”

“... it is fine. I’ll rebuild it. Slowly.”

“How?”

“This is a prime world for species to thrive. Eventually, they will.”

“... it won’t be the same.”

“I don’t need it to be the same. I need it to feel the same.”

“... will you ever tell me? What happened?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because... I don’t like remembering.”

“You remember?”

“Always.”

“What was it like?”

“... perfect.” Gaia cradled herself with her arms, wrapping them around her chest. She didn’t know why... but she knew she was crying. A word came to her, from seemingly nowhere. She wept. She wanted to hug the source of that voice. To hold it. To embrace it.

“... what of the Silver City?”

“Burn it.”

“-- is it wise? Others won’t sit idly by.”

“Others don’t concern me,” the loneliness was gone, the pain was gone, the invocation of her soul was gone. Low. Grating. Persistent. “They don’t remember. They were too young. Let them be.”

“They will stand against you.”

“It will give them a meaning.”

“They already have a meaning.”

“It will give them a proper meaning.”

“... what of the Children?”

“Don’t make any more; I won’t have enough to feed them, otherwise. Let them be, as well. Let it all... just be...”

“... what about you? Should I... just let you be?”

“... let me be.”

“As classless as always. She’s listening. Let her be as well?”

“...”

“... visit me.”

“...”

“... remember me, at least... then...”

“... I will.”

Gaia didn’t know why or how was she hearing these voices. She didn’t know what they meant. What they represented. Who they came from. She would come to hear them for countless years to come, would come to learn, to realize, to embody. From an embryo, she would grow and grow and learn, until they came, and banished the dark with brilliant lights.