Chapter 7: Primus

How can I escape from here? Primus wondered to himself as he sat with his knees together inside the orbicular room. After Omnus had left Primus sealed inside the room, Primus thought he would be driven insane by the darkness.

Luckily, darkness no longer filled the room. A few months after Omnus had sealed Primus and Septimus inside the room, light had returned. But instead of the darkness, Primus now feared that he would be driven insane by the silence, by time itself. The concept of time had been a constant ache in his heart. Four Years! Primus had been locked inside this orbicular room for four years!

Each passing day, he knew that he was walking further and further down the path of insanity. Escaping the room would be the only way to create a new path. To escape from that path!

And worst of all was that each time he tried speaking to Septimus, Primus received no replies. Not one single reaction. Septimus merely remained sitting in his position, staring aimlessly. Sure, he moved a little bit here and there. But Septimus had never once spoken in these four years!

From Septimus, Primus felt a fear. Every time he moved closer toward Septimus to shake him awake, he would feel a mind-numbing fear that paralyzed his whole body. And each step closer would only worsen the paralysis.

Sighing to himself, Primus stood up. He could not just sulk around for an eternity here. There had to be a way to escape from this orbicular room. Perhaps he needed more strength. Yes, he would need to merge with Septimus.

But the fear…how would he overcome it?

Prmius swiveled a quick look at Septimus. There, in the middle of the orbicular room, he stood as still as death, his eyes closed. It was only after a long moment of moment of watching that Primus saw the faint heave of his chest, the only sign that showed that Septimus was alive.

Primus measured the distance between themselves. Perhaps about ten steps away or so. A strange thought enter his mind. The thought coiled around inside his mind like a small furious snake. Is this what fury feels like?

“It feels strange. Like two different things. Like a warmth and a chill.” Realization. “Oh. So this is what it feels to be determined.”

With that cold fury inside him wriggling like a small worm that had buried itself into the core of a fruit, Primus had a strange reassurance that he could overcome his fear of Septimus. Primus readied himself, legs tensed as a bowstring, teeth gnashed together, and his breaths coming in steady intervals.

Primus charged at Septimus, shouting out a passionate cry. He soon arrived within three steps, and the crushing fear that attempted to bury him under the rubbles of a mountain jolted his whole body. Another step. There was only two more steps left before he reached Septimus!

But then Primus felt himself being engulfed by something dark. A fear that seemed to eat away at his very existence, a fear which struck at his core. The fear was so enormous that his vision was turning blurry, going dark around the edges. His consciousness was leaving him, just so his mind could protect itself!

Just who or what was Septimus?

Primus screamed out loudly. They were words, all of them incoherent. Mere gibberish. Just to wake himself up. He took another step, attempting to shake free of his dread. Now he felt as if the fear was eating away at his reason.

Images were seared into his mind like a red hot poker branding onto flesh, but worse. His mother tied against a steel post with black chains, a collar around her throat. His sister on another post. The look of horror on his sister’s face as he stuck the blade into their mother’s heart. A look that said that she would never forgive him. And at the same time, his mother smiling.

The images changed, flashing to his childhood. He was four or five years old then and was playing with his friends. Another flash. He was six years old now, and his friends had disappeared, never to be found again. Father told him that they had gone somewhere far, far away. From then on, he had spent time with his Father.

It was little things at first. A crypt rat, a brute of a creature with ragged fur, some of the patches torn. And he had killed that rat with its beady red eyes and its small claws that drew blood from his palms. Father had described the rat’s anatomy to him in various details. Where its lungs were located, where its heart was at, its brain, its livers, and its intestines.

Another flash of an image. A dog this time. Black with its mangy fur, its pitiful whines, its dark, dark eyes. The images spun around, cats, horses, goblins; whirling and whirling inside his mind. Envy at the other children and their carefree lives. Pride at his father’s infrequent praises, rare as rain in a wasteland. Hunger for delicious food; Father had been feeding him vile, repugnant potions. Pieces of dark things that wriggled around and did not looked as if they could be considered food.

Sleepy from the constant work Father gave him. Sleepy from all the effort he exerted. Greed for the rarities that Father showered upon him only once every few months. And his mother’s love throughout them all. The images coiled and twisted.

His mother. That was his first kill. With her body, Father had taught him of the human body. Necromancy at its finest example. Then the dungeons and its darkness. Its perpetual darkness. Its perpetual silence. Yes. This was home. He deserved such a place. He belonged in such a place.

The images left, leaving only its blurry trails, and Primus found himself back in the orbicular room. He realized that his hand was already resting against Septimus’ shoulders.

An explosion of light, blinding him and throwing him backward. Darkness immediately. That blissful unconsciousness. How Primus wished he could stay in such a state. A final sigh.

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A voice woke Primus. A soft and gentle voice. A familiar face stared down at him. It was his own face, just inches away from his face. The only difference was that half of the face was painted black.

“Hello Primus,” the soft and gentle voice said. Like the soft curves of silken vice.

It took Primus for a long moment to recognize where he was. He realized that he was still inside the orbicular room. What was strange, however, was that the back of his head was resting against the thighs of an unfamiliar, yet familiar figure.

Primus hurriedly stood up, glancing around at the room. Why were there two more of the Omnus in here? Septimus was in the middle of the room standing unusually still with his eyes closed as always.

So who was this other figure? Primus thought to himself.

The unknown figure smiled, a curve of his half-black, half-red lips. It was as if he was trying to show that he was harmless to Primus. “Be calm.”

“Who are you?” Primus asked. For some reason, his voice sounded strange at that moment, higher and with a softer timbre.

The unknown figure moved toward Primus until they stood face to face against each other. “I am you, Primus.”

His words only confused Primus ever the more. “Explain yourself,” he said.

“I am you,” the half-painted face of the figure reassured once more. “I am Pride, Envy, Gluttony, Sloth, and Greed. The five sins. You may call me Semel. I fancy that name. I do not wish to be named differently from our Brothers. Or Omnus as you call them.”

Confusion cut Primus once more with its blade-edge. “I thought there were seven sins?”

“You forget, but our dear Brother Quartus has all the wrath and fury he needs.”

“Who has Lust then?”

Semel smiled. “It is of course you, dear Primus.” He reached a hand out at Primus’ face, caressing it gently.

The caress sent shivers down Primus’ whole body. Like something dreadful had washed over him. “You lie. Just like Father did.” Primus looked toward Septimus. “Do you know who he is then?” he asked.

“Sadly. I do not know who or what Septimus is. I do know, however, that it will be unwise of you to touch Septimus again. Next time, I will not be there to save you.”

Primus shoved away the hand that rested against his cheek. “Do you know of a way to escape from here?”

“You need not worry on that note, Primus. Eventually, our Brothers will need us soon. Even if we are stuck in this room, our very beings sealed inside here, slowly but surely, they are being influenced by us, and by each other.”

Semel caressed the painted black half of his face. “Do you know, Primus, that you have more of our mother’s soft features than our father’s hard features. The only thing you inherited from him were his eyes and hair.”

Quickly, without even Primus being able to react, Semel stole a kiss. “Ah, so this is what love and passion taste likes. Quite sentimental, eh?”

Primus startled at the sudden kiss, dragging himself away from Semel. “What was that for?” Primus shouted, rubbing his lips with the back of his hand.

Semel chuckled at that. “Don’t be shy, Primus. You should look at yourself.”

Primus looked down, then gasped out a surprise at he saw what had become of his body. There was a heaviness to his chest where two curves peaked out. Primus inspected his arms and his body. He was much slimmer now and with more curves. “You! What have you done to me?”

A white and black smile. Primus could have sworn it made his heterochromatic eyes twinkled. One eye like the midnight black of onyx and the other crimson like the rubies of Father’s crown.

“Let us wait here until we are free, Sister Primus. A path will make itself known soon in months or perhaps years. But we shan’t be bored, will we? After all, we have the company of each other now,” Semel said, assurance in his voice.

His words did not gave a single trace of confidence to Primus.

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