Blunder

Lo Nine

Ruth/S’yliska

One of her ravenous heads bit down into the man’s shoulder, severing it from his body. The Chosen let out a brief shriek as he dropped off a hex pillar, down into the abyss below. Her cells began working to convert another into her mob, even as he struck the sandy ground hard.

A swinging tendril arm slammed a barb down into the skull of another, leaving behind a hideous wound. He dropped to the ground, silent and still in the dark opening.

She kept one of her eyes on her new Angel friend as she worked, parrying one of those strange energy blades with only her fists, disarming the man and striking his body with easily a hundred blows a second. Multiple phantom limbs sprouted from the one, shattering him and sending the man’s crumpled heap of a body slamming into the wall and dropping down. Another raised a rifle at her, but before Ruth could strike, a black portal tore open and swept him up. She unsheathed her spear as another phantom angel appeared from nowhere throwing the long lance high up into the shaft they occupied. The Chosen, now impaled on the lance, crashed into a hex platform, going still.

Ruth reached out with her senses, feeling no other lifeforms apart from the Angel and the impaled Chosen. The kill squad had been easily mopped up by both of them.

Deborah glided and floated, hopping from one hex platform to the next as she reached the fallen Chosen. Ruth retracted her claws, barbs, and various limbs, springing her legs into a single leap to reach the Chosen just as her new Angel friend did.

Deborah gripped the lance, pulling it free from the man as he barked a cry. She gripped him, holding him over the edge of the pillar.

“Why would you betray Adonai for a fallen liar, one created by The Most Holy Lord?”

The man wheezed an answer.

“Fallen? Liar? She’s our god. Strange though-” he was caught up in a fit of coughing.

Deborah placed her lance tip up, balancing perfectly on its butt as she palmed the man’s wound. Her senses prickeld at the telling outflow of power. The Angel used magic as well.

“Healing Hands.”

The man’s body glowed as the wound knit shut, leaving behind a hole in his armor.

“But you used one hand- isn’t that spell plural?” the man objected.

“I could end you now,” Deborah retorted.

“Ah- well- fair enough. As I said, I’ve never seen an Angel apart from our god. Both of you- in fact- are gorgeous not only in looks, but in fighting spirit.”

Ruth exchanged glances with the Angel.

“The Chosen flirt with you; it’s a self defense thing, apparently,” she chided with a shake of her head.

“Do they?” Deborah pursed her lips at the man.

“And you enjoyed it,” S’yliska added.

Not now.

“Eheh! I mean- well you’re not beautiful at all- but you-”

The Angel tightened her grip.

“Please tell us how many of you there are,” Deborah ordered.

“-Agh! But that’s the thing! We’re only privy to information we need to know, such as my squad and our mission.”

Ruth stepped in looking up at the man as he dangled from the Angel’s stoney arm.

“And what is your mission? Maybe we could help?”

While the Chosen’s helmeted face hid his facial features, she could tell he was thinking.

“Well- that’s the thing, Seal Holder, you are our mission. We were tasked to retrieve you all and free reign to destroy any that got in our way.”

“Is she here?’

Her spirit tensed as she awaited the inevitable answer.

“She is.”

The words chilled her to the mimicked organ that would have passed for a heart. She had not met her in dreams or in the flesh, but based on how Soltana reacted, one whom she trusted for her mental stability, it was without exaggeration that this fallen Angel Lucifer was the most terrifying entity. First or second only to Genius Loci himself.

She caught Deborah’s brief microexpression, one that appeared trained, but still a nanosecond triggered by such words.

“She knows this Fallen Angel,” S’yliska added.

I know.

“So uh… Would any of you gorgeous ladies like to go out for a meal? Coffee?-”

“Allow me, Deborah,” Ruth stated as she coiled her limbs.

The Angel presented the man to Ruth who sprouted dozens of Dugrum spider limbs from her back. She gathered the man up as he grunted and undid his mask. She recognized him immediately.

“You!” her face twisted in annoyance.

“Me?”

“I already dealt with you!”

“But I’ve never seen you before?”

He wasn’t lying. He let out a knowing sigh.

“Ah, that must have been my twin brother. I’m the good looking one- by the way- And he is a hopeless flirt. But what can you do? Oh, the offer still stands! It could be a wonderful time-”

Ruth rolled her eyes, working her spider arms and silk ducts to wrap the man up into a cocoon.

“-Is that a no?” his muffled voice rang out.

She shot a coil of thread along the floor of the hex platform, threading a long coil around the feet of the cocoon. She let the man go as he gasped, his body swinging around the pillar until he smacked tightly against it.

“Ow.”

The momentum sprung him back, wrapping the other way around the pillar before he gently slammed against the side.

“Ow…”

“Leaving an enemy alive is unwise,” Deborah advised.

Ruth looked away from the Angel’s covered gaze, retracting her limbs back inside herself. She felt no more threats nearby. She sat against the hex platform, clasping her hands.

“When I awoke- when I remembered, I slew and devoured the first creatures I met. They were loathsome, horrific beasts. The first thing they desired when they met me was to turn me into a coat.”

“I destroyed them without mercy. I ate them slowly as they begged; feet first. I was a savage at the time when I did not remember myself.”

Deborah sat down next to her, listening quietly.

“And the Underrealm rejoiced at their fall. I was the hero in their eyes. I slew Borscha and his cronies, bringing peace. And do you know what?”

She looked down at her hands. They were both familiar and alien. She was an imposter to her own flesh, mind, and memories. She was a shapeshifter. She still didn’t know if she was the true Ruth, or if that woman had perished long ago. Had she devoured her and stolen her memories?

“It haunts me.”

“And I ward you.”

“To become a monster.”

“You are never a monster.”

“To rip and tear others.”

“To protect others.”

“It goes against everything in my soul.”

“You were raised up for such a time as this.”

“I remember.”

“As do I.”

Deborah spoke, her voice soft and serene. That heavy accent took away from none of what she said.

“I can see the conflict in your heart and mind. I can see the souls you carry, both sleeping and awake. S’yliska is a wise friend to have. You were trapped in dark purposes and schemes, but also given incredible power. Your conscience guides you well; to take heart of every life that you may slay. But know that I see what you believe as a monstrous ability, can and will be used for good. It can and will be used to save others. The Seal you possess will aid you. We will help keep you on this straight and narrow. But also know that by not taking a life when necessary will lead to villains returning far stronger than ever. And taking away the ones you care for. In combat, there must be no illusion that life is to be taken without hesitation. This is known by those who participate.”

“But are you not an Angel who was created for war? I was made to tend and care for those in need. I am the Matron.”

“A Matron defends her children as well as herself,” Deborah retorted with a smile.

Ruth caught her dodging the first question.

“And what of warrior Angels? Do they take lives without burden?”

Deborah glanced away, her black cowl hiding her face.

“I was not created with such a purpose in mind. I would have been better suited as a messenger in more peaceful times. It was the choice Emmanuel laid out for me. I was not created by traditional means.”

“She is different than Diniel. He is solid steel and she is a tree dancing in the wind. She can choose,” S’yliska advised.

“Traditional means?”

Deborah rose to her feet, snatching her lance from the platform. It appeared the conversation was at a pause.

“We must go now. While time is of no meaning here in the land of the Watchers, we still have a busy schedule.”

“The others.”

“Precisely.”

The Angel gazed skyward, as did she. Ruth spotted the entrance at the shaft’s end.

“Can you fly?”

“Naturally.”

She gave but a thought and her cells obeyed. Her clothes parted as her flesh split open at the back, revealing betafly wings of thin transparent violet. She ascended, assisted by the push of her psychokinetic abilities which S’yliska controlled.

“I can feel another in you, assisting you from thoughts to your very actions. You two fight as one. Is that S’yliska you spoke of?”

How can she tell?

“This Deborah is very perceptive. If she were less trustworthy, I would be concerned. But she is Gideon’s guardian Angel, so it is fortunate.”

She acquiesced. It would be better to explain it all.

“It's S’yliska, from before, yes. The Porturan Ancath S’yliska.”

“Proturan… I am not as familiar as I wished I was with their species.”

“Well, then you’ll see very soon!” Ruth chided back at her.

“I get next battle- and this time, some strange handsome man asks for a time out, I'll accept,” S’yliska teased.

You wouldn’t!

She could feel herself blushing.

“Don’t test me,” she retorted.

Deborah’s wings of pearlescent scales appeared as she took flight alongside her. She was a creature of grace, incapable of making an awkward movement. Her senses reached out, feeling the projected energy from each scale, canceling gravity while giving her lift. Angelic anatomy was a bizarre impossible beauty. She felt at the necklace. Power. It could be hers, too.

But how would I change? Would I further drift away from who I was before; the Ruth of old?

“Would we rival Genius Loci?” S’yliska asked.

No. But it would be a step towards it. Still I’m worried. Would it get to my head? Would I become something more monstrous?

“Remove the word monster from your vocabulary. You preach lies against yourself,” she chastised.

…..

The temperature began to fall as she ascended. She puffed out air, seeing the breath vapor expand and trail away. Her instincts blared at her; this wasn’t a natural cold. They reached the top as Ruth grabbed the edge of the hex opening and leapt through. She was suddenly in a world of ice and cold. She blinked in shock at what she looked up. She stared into the frightened eyes of a goblin garbed in emerald, frozen in a solid block of ice. It sought to escape, desperate to flee. There were dozens of them, all in varying states of solidification.

Deborah landed next to her, spear readied.

“I recognize the spell signature… Can it really be unkillable?”

“Who?”

She looked back, seeing Deborah’s normally stoic face twisting in concern.

“Breatherman.”

“What?”

“On our adventures, we fought a powerful demon, spawned as a counter against us. He is a demon of ice and of the mind. The Breatherman. I have never experienced such agony in my millennia of life as it tortured me. We only survived because I was on the verge of growth. I chose its weakness; Angelic Healing Magic. It should have been destroyed…”

Ruth put on a determined face, grasping Deborah’s hand.

“We’ll face this Breatherman together.”

The Angel nodded, stepping forward and avoiding the frozen goblins.

“Do not touch the ice; it spreads. It is also immune to any physical attack. It has a crippling weakness to magic.”

“Psychokinetic powers?”

“Most likely immune.”

“Then we will protect Deborah as she defeats it again,” S’yliska advised.

“Not much different from my fight with Abezebithou. We’ll keep you guarded and you slay it.”

She turned to face this new monster.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking the first shot if it strikes us. Don’t worry, I’m a lot tougher than I look,” She gave the Angel a smirk, which she returned with a stoic pursed mouth.

She navigated the frozen bodies, all in various states of either fighting or fleeing.

She broke through the barriers, seeing an encircled outcropping ahead. She felt its presence as it stirred to answer her advance. It was shrouded in smokey robes of black, sitting atop an ice block. It turned its cowled head to her as she caught the glinting of many eyes from within. Its four arms were wiry and unnatural; all deceptively powerful from what her instincts warned. They all causally held a violet gem grandsword, tip braced on the ground, giving her the impression they were legs of an insectile creature. Cold frost emitted from the hood.

What surprised her the most the passivity of the demon; there was no aggression or malevolent intent.

Deborah stepped besider her, spear readied.

“I slew you once and I will do it again, demon.”

The demon made no reply. Ruth held out a hand, gesturing to Deborah to halt.

“Wait. Something’s wrong. Well- not wrong like here’s a demon wrong- but the thing’s docile.”

It finally spoke, its cowl turning away to stare off into the darkness.

“Why was I ripped from nothing into this existence? Why was I forced to live?”

This was no normal demon.

“I will end your suffering,” Deborah quietly asserted.

Ruth stepped forward, hands clasped. She took on the deception of innocence and frailty.

“Be careful; all demons lie.”

I will.

“Why does anything happen to anyone?”

“Spare me your sophistry; if I wished for more learned folk, the goblinkind would have sufficed.”

“Biting wit, check.”

“So you’re a demon of self pity?”

It let out a low sigh, raising a sword and clinking it down against the black stone. Deborah spoke up.

“Ruth, I sense it is bound by another. This Amy traitor that had fought Gideon is in possession of the Breatherman.”

“Ruth, I know what is happening with this demon now,” S’yliska chimed in.

She understood it now.

“Is that why you won’t attack us? You’ve been ordered to be passive?”

“The human is perceptive,” it mocked.

“Of course, it was difficult; what with all the self pity going around,” she shot back.

She took a step closer, well within sword distance. The swords she could handle, it was potential magic she was worried about.

“You’ve been ordered to remain passive, right?”

It made a gesture akin to rolling its eyes.

“Master Amy is heavy with her demands and rules. She is here, as lost as we all are. Yes this is true.”

“And with how free you are with information; you’re not fond of her, are you?”

“Who would be?”

“This Amy sounds powerful, I sense it is an Elder demon,” S’yliska whispered in her mind.

She’s just another fallen angel. Like the rest we’ve fought. And we’ll destroy it like the rest.

“I slew him, but it did little good. He returned, as per Gideon’s debriefing. Something to do with one’s memory of the wretch.”

The demon rose to its imposing height, flipping the swords to an overhand grip as he eased them at rest. For a brief second, Ruth tensed, waiting for the inevitable battle. Its shoulders slouched as it spoke.

“Is it so difficult? Are your minds so awash in putrescence that you cannot fathom simple logic? My curse is to never taste non-existence.”

“What do you mean? I’m a simple person, afterall,” Ruth attempted to bait him.

“Do not think your deception was at all clever. You are not weak or ignorant by any means. The moment you saw me, I was burned inside your mind and your memory of me is a seed from which I am reborn again, and again, and again.”

The revelation jarred her. How could you even hope to fight something like that?

“So you’re immortal unless someone wipes the memory of those that saw you,” Ruth mentioned.

“Which I am capable of,” S’yliska added.

“Precisely. And no one can erase the minds of those scattered across the universe; those that may not even know I creep inside their psyche.”

“For being an evil brain ripping, frost blowing entity, you certainly are friendly.”

“Not by choice. Do well to remember that. The moment the leash slackens, I can now commit atrocities upon you that you’ve never imagined. And I will enjoy it to the fullest extent- little chimera.”

“Ruth, be careful- this monster gets inside your head.”

“And what fascinating minds you have; each a unique gem- Or in Ruth’s case; gems,” it retorted.

“I do not believe it can read our current thoughts, unlike the Emerald god,” S’yliska advised.

It sauntered off, hefting its crystal grandswords.

“And where are you going, demon?” Deborah challenged.

“To find more willing prey.”

“You could come with us,” Ruth words echoed off as both parties silently stared back at her.

Her angelic protector broke it first, mouth pursing disapprovingly.

“I will never hold party to a demon! Ruth, this is unwise to invite such evil into our midst.”

She continued to speak, despite the Angel’s warnings.

“Because we’ll find this Amy- guaranteed. And then you’ll both get what you want.”

“I see your clever mind working."

She looked back at both of them with a coy smile on her face.

“And what would that be?”

She broke out into a smile.

“Why, the slaying of Amy- of course!” she chirped.

She could feel their reservation, and their reluctant agreement. She heard the demon speak inside her mind.

"I see your past. I can tell why you're so lost… So confused…"

Feelings of shock stopped her heart. He couldn't possibly know.

"Leave the Angel behind; she is of no use to you and together we can unravel the mystery of your previous life."

How could it know?

"To see how this god wounded you, forcing you to bear demon flesh as your own child. I see it all in vibrant color. Do you wish-"

The intruding thoughts were blocked as a stone wall of the mind clapped shut. S'yliska shut him out.

Wait- he was talking! He knows my past; I can remember what happened…

"A demon always lies, even when telling the truth. Do not walk the path of needing to rely upon one, or you risk ending up with a worse fate than these Lucifer's Chosen."

But why? If he can tell me, then he should!

"Because then he has power over you. He will make you do hideous things as payment, revealing only the worst of your past to further entrap you. It is a road you should not go down, lest you be lost again."

Let me make my choices, S'yliska-

Before she could relay anymore, Deborah spoke up.

"Ruth."

The Angel addressed her with a voice implying more than a simple inquiry.

"As wonderful a plan as that is. I have another idea."

Both she and the Breatherman gazed at the Angel. She made no move, her berylite spear lowered. The land awaited the Angel's counter offer.

"Healing Hands."

A phantom hand projected from behind the demon, gripping its torso as holy healing magic burned into its side, vaporizing a hole in its smokey robe as its flesh ignited. It let out a bellowing shriek akin to the cries of many men and women as it flailed its swords in all directions, leaping high and breathing out frost.

"Deborah- why!?-" she tried to protest as dozens of Deborah's appeared and moved out from behind the original, wings flaring as they took off to fight.

"-This is no time to discuss; fight now!" The Angel rebuked.

Frost began to accumulate all around her. She felt her flesh beginning to crystallize with ice particles.

S'yliska acted as the air suddenly vibrated, heating up the atmosphere with frictitious molecules.

"We will confront her later. I can counter the ambient frost, but I do not believe we can wound it. Support Deborah!"

She nodded in agreement. Her flesh twisted and writhed as if she was being gripped by invisible hands and rung out. Her flesh burst open to reveal the Ancath form within, the flesh remnants flowing and reabsorbing at her feet.

Her white, curvy chitin glimmered in the low light as her red muscle underflesh glistened. She smiled, viewing the battle through sensory vents along her eyes from afar as dozens of Deborahs began lancing and parrying those massive crystal grandswords. The tips of the spears phased through the Breatherman, unable to touch it. She reached out with her mind, feeling the blades and the slight phasing of flesh from the Breatherman’s hands. She reached out with a hand and her mind, gripping the crystal swords with invisible hands, pulling them and slowing the Breatherman down. It shrieked as Deborah began to slash and stab at the flat ends of the blades chipping away at them. She felt the battle change as it let the grandswords go as they flashed with violet light. All of the Deborah’s vanished into portals as the blades detonated, showering the area with high velocity crystal fragmentation. Ruth braced, projecting a psychokinetic shield around herself as the shards dashed against her defenses.

The other Deborah’s reappeared, hands open with lances aimed to block as she rushed to touch the demon. It’s torso still smoldered and burned with golden fire. It vanished suddenly. The angelic copies didn’t skip a second as they rushed to and fro, spreading out and scanning the darkness for the demon.

“That was a masterful betrayal.”

Its voice echoed inside her head.

“It is near,” S’yliska advised.

“All too near,” it warned from behind.

She spun as a large hand gripped her shoulder. She stared into the clover face underneath the hood. Her soul shivered as the land of the Watchers vanished. She stood in a large hall of white marble, lit by strange glowing lights. It was massive, dwarfing her entirely. It was a land made for gods and giants. A crimson carpet traveled along the center, deep into the hall. Her instincts flared as danger surrounded her.

“He is trapping you inside your memories!” S’yliska warned.

“But how? I can’t remember any of this!” she protested.

She began to march the halls, nearing the crimson red carpet. She realized she was not in control. She could no more force her actions than the rotation of planets. But that was the thing with memories; they were static and unchanging.

“Such narcissism. Who said these were your memories? The Breatherman taunted.

She widened her sensory peripheral, ‘seeing’ the demon, peeking out of a wall, phased through like a ghost. She felt intense warning instincts from the carpetry, that she should avoid it at all costs. That was it. She was reliving the memories of another. The man whose memory she re-lived stepped down, letting out a sickening squelch. Blood splattered the man’s boots with each step. For her, there was a worse revelation about this thing.

It was alive.

And it observed her. She knew she could feel its intense presence at the edges of her mind; waiting. Watching.

It was an angelic artifact.

“No. It is a Seraphim,” S’yliska corrected.

That’s a Seraphim?

“One of many; each are unique and It would be wise to avoid any conflict with them.”

“You have so many precious memories surrounding you; a vortex of past ages surrounds you. So many were defeated and eaten. You’re as bad as a demon, if you really think about it,” it taunted.

She held strong against its cutting words, the man whose memory she occupied. The question was whose?

“If you’re still ignorant, just think back to the last person you devoured.”

The Chosen. This was Lucifer’s lair.

She had to flee.

Now.

Under no circumstance could Lucifer see her.

The man marched ever closer along the bloody carpet. She knew where he was heading towards. Who he was destined to meet.

S’yliska, get us out of here!

“I am trying! The Breatherman is forcing us here!”

Fear creeped the edges of her heart. If any Fallen Angel saw them it could cause irreparable harm to her psyche or soul as it sought to mark her with pain and extract information. Or worse yet if she saw Lucifer. Who knew what the Fallen Archerubim could do inside the memory of another.

“Only a brief moment now before you face destruction. While Master Amy is incompetent in all regards, her god is the equal inverse. She is just like you; a demon at heart.”

The man continued his journey, closing in on the hall’s end. A golden glow emitted from the chamber ahead. She knew where he was going. She couldn’t stop the memory. He marched ever close to what she predicted was a throne room of sorts. The presence beyond was stifling; an eclipsing sun of death. The horror she felt was indescribable. Fear gripped her.

She needed to run; she needed to hide.

She needed to die right now to escape the overwhelming power.

S’yliska! Do something! Please!!

Her insides were shrieking to flee, forced to view the man’s memory as he trudged to destiny. She couldn’t hear the man’s internal monologue; couldn’t sense his inner feelings. Louder the fear roared, thrumming in her ears.

Every step throttled her soul.

S’yliska!!

She wanted to scream as she entered the main room. The golden glow manifested as a massive yellow crystalline throne over a dozen meters high and twice as wide. It was sculpted with horrific and gorgeous art, a masterpiece craft. Trailing to the very top was one that transcended the beauty of the Throne. She was three meters tall, a giantess among men, clothed in robes of iridescent splendor, jeweled in majesty, robed in godhood, and garbed in cruelty. It all paled in comparison to that face.

To those eyes of perfect azure, inimitable eyes of sapphire from which all the colors of blue were compared to; and all failed to match up.

If beauty were a mountain top, this woman was the starry sky above them.

She knew her name.

It was none other than Lucifer.

“Who are you?”

The voice’s command was absolute. The man buckled in the memory to his knees. Ruth noticed the memory itself halting as the world ceased.

Lucifer rose from her throne, the pinnacle of grace and majesty as she descended to her, a mere mortal in comparison.

She stood mighty and tall, sultry and curvaceous, horrific and cruel. A slight tilt of the head, a glint of the eye, a curve of the lip, and Ruth understood she had been found out.

The hand gripped the man’s throat, lifting him high as she peered inside his eyes, looking at her. Observing. Judging. Weighing. Lusting.

“And who are you?”

Ruth glanced back at the throne, her heart freezing upon the realization of what it was made out of. Golden crystal, molded into a symbol of might and death. Then it dawned on her what the throne was made of. It was made of a yellow ambient crystal, beautiful to the eyes.

And the consternation she felt dropped her stomach into the blackness of deep space

Lucifer used the deceased as her throne, as a footstool of her power. She had little doubt she would be added as decorative trim in these moments. A throne made up of thousands, or even tens of thousands of human souls, compressed into the physical plane. The horror of the revelation shocked her more than the eyes of the demonic angel that stared back at her. The roaring of fear defeaned her. The presence of the Archerubim was too much.

Ruth fainted in spirit.