***

Final Stitch

At your death, your soul will float upwards, and join the Four Strands to help carry our home for the years to come. Fulfill this task with pride.

***

On one end: an unflinching pillar of metal. On the other: four flexible strings of silk.

It speaks volumes about the Risen, and their relation to the Calling. Some believe they must avoid its influence at any cost. Mother was one of them. “Violence, agony, death — all are the Calling’s mark,” she used to say. They would allow no dissent. In the name of discipline and order, they built the Nectar Pool — a finishing blow to the Acolytes’ wild nature. Even though Emilia had been born in the Cocoon, her spirit had always belonged to the Forge.

Mother’s corpse falls from the sky, and lands in the sludge with a loud splash.

I clasp her body between my slimy hands. My legs batter the Iron Sea, trying to stay afloat.

Where was Juliet, now? Preaching the glory of the Strands, alongside the Cocoon’s new leader? Had she returned to the Forge to teach her kin the error of their ways?

It does not matter. I must live up to my name.

I swim towards the carcass of a fallen crab Acolyte. I tear apart one of her claws, and use it to slice open Emilia’s abdomen.

There is no Spindle, but there are no Strands either. Silk, while resilient, cannot hold our home for a hundred years. Then, what holds us aloft?

The answer to the Hundred-Year-Old Question is opposition.

Below, there are the wastes of the Iron Sea: a negative force, tainted by corpses and the metal dust contaminating its water.

Above, there is the Cobalt Hive — a land of absolute duality. Metal and flesh, order and savagery, Forge and Cocoon. Emilia and Lionel. A negative force, plunging below through a fantastical Spindle, and a positive force, reaching towards four imaginary Strands in the sky.

I reach a hand inside Emilia’s guts, and begin emptying her innards into the black sludge. The blood flows, tainting the water with a speck of crimson.

I may not smell anymore, but I sense this divide. A force pours out of the cobalt on the underside of the Hive. It descends, and meets the one emerging from the Iron Sea. Always pushing against one another — that is how our home still stands.

The armor that once covered my body was Forge-bound — during our fall, it harnessed this negative force. The ball Juliet used as her weapon carried the same energy. Powerful under the Hive, useless above. It seems the Elder Smiths forgot to take this into account during their tests.

Mother’s heart gets stuck between my fingers. I pluck the organ out, and examine it.

Within, I see a jackal, plains of grass, ripe berries, and feral Acolytes. I see the Calling.

My hand returns the heart inside Emilia’s torso. Such an invaluable treasure cannot be lost.

I direct the claw towards one of my Parent’s nostrils. The instrument reaches deep inside, and hits a fleshy mass. I pull it out, and touch the lines etched on it with my fingers.

Across the maze of dead tissue, I imagine a Risen. I see her cradle in her arms a baby jackal, sing him lullabies, and berate him after he uprooted a silkroot plant. I see the Stitches.

I place the brain besides the heart. Two different worlds, but reliant on each other.

I swim over to the corpses of six fallen Forge-dweller corpses. I remove the silkroot harness from their waists, and extract the threads inside. With a flick of my wrist, Emilia’s body spins in the water, while the silk wraps her legs, torso, arms, and finally her head.

Far above, the Hundred-Year-Old Question rages on. Their dispute is opposition, true to the nature of the Hive. One day, the Cocoon and the Forge will stop fighting. The Risen will stop trying to outdo their neighbors. Their lives will lose meaning.

However, this day is still far away.

My name is Anubis.

My task is to find those who have fallen from the Hive, and pay my respects by uniting the Calling and the Stitches within their bodies.

Once all will be sealed in a cocoon of silk, only then will I rest.