"The beast of man is the cycle by which we take in the inspiration of giving."

-Verin Coore, Chronicler, Ecclesia of the Eld Universalis

Chapter 11

Orphaned Daughter

Ariei

“How intriguing.”

A voice comes to me. It’s aged, wise, the low tones cracking like footsteps on broken earth. It’s old, damn near ancient. I can’t see. I can’t feel. I try to speak.

“Wh- who are you?”

The voice ignores me.

“You’re strong. Strong enough to hold on this long. Strong enough to kill so many. And savage enough to sever yourself.”

I can feel myself smirk.

“I wouldn’t go that far. I’ve lost everything. Killed everyone.”

The voice suddenly draws close- too close for comfort. It booms in my ear, proud, though with an undertone of malicious playfulness.

“Oh! Come, now. You didn’t lose, foolish girl. You fought to the end. The sick bastard couldn’t even do that- he had his brat finish the job for him.”

“I-”

“There is no time for questions, girl. I am in your position, as well.”

The statement crashes through my racing mind. It’s infuriating. It has no idea, no idea what I’ve just been through.

“How?” I let out a disappointed chuckle. “How could you possibly be in my position?”

“I am dying.”

I nod. There physically. But not emotionally.

“Then I guess this is the last conversation either of us will ever have.”

A throaty laugh emerges, breath thick.

“Quite the opposite, girl. You see, I have come to you with an offer. A contract of sorts, should you accept. A second chance.”

I laugh involuntarily. It’s a surprise to even myself. I wait for it to die down.

“If you’re offering me a second chance at life, then you can fuck off. I’m happy. After what I’ve done? This isn’t even a punishment, it’s a blessing.”

The voice draws closer.

“No. Not a chance at life. Consider it differently. A chance at vengeance.”

I stop mid-thought.

Vengeance.

I try my best to consider everything I’m being told. This has to be a dying dream of some sort, my slowing mind playing tricks on me. But what if it isn’t? I don’t truly want to live again. I’ve made peace with the concept of death, I welcome it.

I crave it.

And yet, I’ve put my people in this position. The majority of them are dead because of me- because of my failure to prevent all of this.

Because of Braham.

Because I didn’t disobey him.

Because I’ve kept secrets.

I can make amends somehow. I can tear down Cistria, its structures, its people, one by one. I can carve my way to the Archion and his damned child.

I can make everything matter.

“I’ve asked before, and I’ll ask you again. Who are you?!”

The voice moves in circles around me.

“I am no man, nor a simple beast. Eidelion exist everywhere in your world, yes. They stalk in shadows, they soar in the skies above, they feast on the flesh of man and their own kind alike. I am above.”

“You seem to have quite the high view of yourself.”

“As is earned. I am a nexumon- a divine being. We do share traits with eidelion, yes. We are of the same design. And yet, though rare, we have been blessed with other latent abilities- intelligence, elemental ability, and, of course, the ability to link with Empaths.”

The voice draws in.

“Which is how I am speaking with you.”

I want to crawl away. I want to stop this whole thing. I can barely comprehend any of this.

And yet, I remain motionless.

“What the fuck are you on about? WHO ARE YOU?”

“I am Luciaphon, Hunter of the Plains, former nexumonic warrior of Centralis. You have seen me before. You may have met my former Empath. His name was Gierant.”

By the gods. I’m speaking with one of them. An eidelion- no, something else.

“I'm an Empath then?”

“Indeed. Empaths are very, very rare- nearly as rare as us. You should be honored by your gift. It is the bridge that allows the two greatest species the Gods have crafted to bridge together.”

I shake my head.

“What does this offer entail?”

The beast moves away in this infinite black space until it gives some room to me. I can’t quite tell if it’s trying to give me space for comfort.

“You and I will be replaced- healed, flesh as new as when you were born. We will be linked, both physically and spiritually.”

“Spiritually?”

“Indeed. We will be able to communicate with each other, even over long distances, with our minds. We will both receive Gifts, granted to us by the gods.”

This is getting more obscure by the moment.

“What kind of.. Gift?”

“It is unsure. They are powerful, rare gifts, however. Abilities that can alter the fabric of the world around us. They always come at a price, however. You must use them sparingly.”

“And yours?”

I can hear a snicker.

“A new form. To tear. To maim.”

“Well, you seem to be a very charming fellow.”

“So I’ve been told.”

I turn over what I’ve heard. I try and poke through every minute detail, every strange idea that’s been delivered to me. I’m still unsure if this is some sort of sick dying dream, a final illusion.

But still.

I must set this right.

If there’s even the slightest possibility of a chance, then I must take it.

A single spark can start a fire.

“You and Gierant. Were you two… friends?”

“You could say that. Comrades…Brothers.”

“Then you’re in pain, as well.”

“A pain of the soul lingers far worse than that of flesh. It lies heavy on the mind. I feel it now.”

I understand what I have to do.

“Hurry, girl. Your time is running short.”

For my father.

For Liet.

For Aaro.

For Sekra.

For my mother.

For Elias.

I will carve my way through them.

“I accept.”

A brief, sharp pain filters its way through my flesh, aching outwards in slow pulses before suddenly stopping. I start to imagine it still being there before finally, blissfully realizing its absence.

My entire body feels heavy- from my aching muscles to my unmoving eyelids. I try them first, using all of the effort left in me to gaze upwards. When I open them, the only thing I can see is a faint glow from above- the morning light shining through a crack in the shattered ceiling.

I’m somewhere dark, cold. The surface I’m lying on is soft, chains rattling softly as I try to move. It comes slowly, the feeling returning to me in a lackadaisical, teasing manner. My eyes start to adjust as I drink in my environs.

It’s my barracks room.

Not much has been displaced- the troops must not have searched this area. The closet still holds my dress uniform, though a thick layer of dust has filled small space. The cracks in the ceiling of the building are a result from the drilling just outside- it’s heavily damaged the entire ceiling of our city. It’s hard to believe the entire area hasn’t caved in yet. I move to wipe some sweat from my brow.

My hand.

It’s back.

I start to examine my arms. Not a single scratch.

I truly am healed. The voice did not mislead.

I’ve been redressed, as well. My torn, battered uniform has been replaced with a simple green shirt made of comfortable material and tan pants. At my feet are a pair of scavenged emberstrand boots. Who these used to belong to is something I don’t dare consider.

I hear a movement to my left.

I turn to see a massive beast.

It’s made of pure muscle, the height of its back just over my head. Long, glowing golden fur covers the beast, and extended mane around the neck. Dustlike glowing particles slowly dance through the atmosphere at random intervals from random places. Hidden beneath the fur of the mane is a set of lengthy, sharp bone-like membranes that move and click on their own accord. A lengthy tail starts with the same slightly wavy fur before extending into a fine, bladed tip. Its jaws are lengthy, wide, sharp teeth hidden under layers of flesh. The eyes are wise, knowing, its expression graceful and fierce in equal measure.

I scream, rolling off of the bed and landing onto the hard ground. I move myself back against the wall, looking for a weapon before my instinct starts to fade.

“Y- you…”

The creature steps forward, its claws ticking on the ground.

“Indeed. It is I. Luciaphon.”

The mouth doesn’t move- of course it doesn’t, it wouldn’t make any sense. That would be too far.

And yet, none of this does.

The voice simply comes to me.

“H- h- h- how are you-”

“Speaking with you? We’re bonded, remember? I can think to you, just as you can to me.”

The beast begins to lie on its stomach before its sheer size pushes the hanging bed aside and nearly knocks the closet door off its hinges. Luciaphon stands straight.

“Ah- such miniscule homes.”

I try to think directly at the beast. It’s awkward. I know my own thoughts, yet here I am, thinking in exact sentences and notions.

“It’s better than living in a cave.”

The creature bares its teeth slightly. I initially believe it to be an expression of aggression, though the voice tells me otherwise. It’s excited, with a hint of laughter.

“Very good. A bit of pride. That’s important for a warrior.”

I hear footsteps coming down the hall. I stand up and start undoing the chain holding my bed up in a strained attempt to craft a weapon.

“Are they still here? I thought they’d have left afte-”

“Ariei.”

I look past the door into the hall.

Aaro.

She’s safe.

Tears start to form before I can even say anything. Instead I run forward, embracing her and holding her tight.

“Aaro…”

She grips me back. The two of us stand there, illuminated in the faint glow of the esperstone lights around us. For just a brief moment it’s easy to forget about all that has happened.

She’s here.

“I found you after they’d dragged you away from the site of the battle. The centralians had left, and, seeing how damaged you were, left you behind.”

I turn to the beast.

“Who are they?”

Aaro looks concerned.

“Ariei? Who are you talking to?”

I look from her to Luciaphon.

“The oversized eidelion to your left.”

She turns with me.

“He seems to have some understanding of human speech- must’ve been training or something. We saw him after we were able to break away from the slaughter. He was stalking in the chamber of council. He was lying there, bleeding out. We pulled you along with us. We were hoping to bring you back, in some way- in any way. It just… came up to you. We thought it was going to start tearing you apart, but then it just lied there for a few moments. You started to spasm, but everyone stepped back after your heartbeat started back up. I don’t know h-”

We. There are more.

“How many? Aaro, how many got away?”

She looks away.

“Eight.”

Everything is hitting me at once. It’s overwhelming. Here I thought I had lost everything, that everyone was a casualty of my failures. But eight remain.

“Who, Aaro?”

I’m still gripping her. I never want to let her go.

Her face is wracked with grief. She doesn’t want to tell me.

“Emetia, Bryatt, Gaevan, Sekra, myself. The others are young. I haven’t gotten to know th-”

I don’t recognize any of those names- but Sekra.

“Sekra’s alright?”

She shakes her head.

“-No. Sekra’s alive. But he's not alright.”

My heartbeat is running far faster than it should.

“Aaro, how long has it been since the battle?”

Her tears are falling anew. I hadn’t realized how much these questions hurt Aaro.

“Six days now. I think. The main esperstone system has broken. I’ve been trying to track the cycles of Imperi and Iferit, even though I’ve forgotten much of how to. We’ve started burying the dead. Geavan says it’s important.”

It hits me. Liet’s dead. I’d have never thought it possible. She was always the gleaming hero of our order, a beacon of heroism.

I look Aaro directly in the eyes.

“How did Liet die?”

She looks away before returning my gaze.

“She protected us, Ariei. She leapt into battle and allowed some of us to get away during the slaughter. We ran into the city and hid out here.”

Of course. It’s the only way Liet would have let herself go.

I stay there with her, treasuring the peace. It’s such a contrast from being in the middle of that hellish reality.

“I was worried, Ariei. I don’t know how but that thing brought you back an-”

“I’m back, Aaro. And I’m never leaving again.”

I release her, looking sternly into her eyes.

“Let’s go out. I want to meet with the others.”

“Are you hungry? We can sit an-”

“No. I need to see what they’ve done.”

She nods. We turn towards the door. I look around at my old living space, smiling softly. Luciaphon follows behind, his massive paws making a soft impact with every step. As we move I attempt to speak with Luciaphon in the method I’d used previously. It’s still uneven, awkward.

“How should I explain this all to her?”

He exhales with a slight growl hidden underneath.

“Maybe you can order me around like a show eidelion. Make you look like a master tamer.”

“Funny.”

I keep moving.

“Wait, did Centralis have show eidelion?”

“You’d be surprised by what people put themselves through to entertain children.”

I snicker.

“You have a lot of explanations due, beast.”

“I look forward to explaining. I wish to understand your culture, as well, hunter.”

From here the barracks remain almost entirely as they were. The main difference- the layer of uneasiness that follows me- is the emptiness, the quiet. There’s nothing here anymore. No more panicked footsteps amidst impromptu drills, no foul mouths jesting between drinks, no impacts from weapons practice or cries from grieving families.

There’s nothing, and it no longer feels like my home.

Aaro whispers as we walk, pointing back towards the further rooms.

“The children are living back there. Two kids, and a young teenager.”

I look back.

“Why are they being kept away?”

Aaro’s voice sounds unsure of itself.

“We can’t let them back outside. It’s too much.”

“Haven’t they already seen enough?”

She shakes her head.

“It’s gotten worse over time. Sekra’s in his own room. Emetia is watching over him.”

I take one last look down the hall, consider meeting with Emetia and seeing Sekra, and keep moving. I need to witness the city before anything else. I repeat the mantra. It’s important to gather the image.

“I’m sorry, Aaro. I’m sorry I haven’t been here. For all of you.”

She chuckles.

“Ariei. Stop. I’m just happy you’re here now.”

We move through the hall and down the ladders, leaving us in the central commons area. The chairs have been knocked over from the quakes that shook our city as the pods fell, leaving them lying randomly like thrown playthings. A thick layer of rubble dust lies over everything, making it all seem untouched from years of neglect.

The door is slightly open. Aaro goes to swing it out and a thick stench fills the air. The voice of a young girl calls for her. She looks at me.

“I’m sorry, Ariei, but I need to go watch them. I can’t let them come down here.”

I nod. I turn and slowly, cautiously step outside.

“By the gods-”

The city is far, far worse than it was when I’d left. The burning had clearly continued long after the slaughter- most of the buildings that can be seen from this point have had their interior structures destroyed, leaving small towers of stone and copper. The entire ceiling is decimated. Massive holes let light and weather in. The ground is slick from the thick rainfall. White light trickles down in thick beams. Cruel graffiti, made with a variety of soft rocks and paint, covers the leftover walls and flooring.

By far the most apparent difference is the stench. It fills the air. There aren’t enough exit points for it, even with the small holes we’d established for this exact issue, so it lingers. It’s the smell of rotting flesh, old salty blood and shit. I start to wretch as it fills my nostrils.

“That’d be the corpses, lass.”

I hear a thick, gravely voice. I turn to see a man in his early thirties moving up behind me. He’s incredibly skinny, with a lengthy brown coat made from strigara hide, a filthy blue undershirt and dark pants. His hair is thick and wild, sitting carelessly atop his head. Stubble lines his face, the occasional too-long whisker playfully sticking out as though mocking anybody who dare focus on it. The occasional gray dots itself amongst the collective, standing out from his bronze skin. He’s taking a swig of some sort of bizarre makeshift alcohol- most likely scavenged from one of the several fallen food outlets.

“Gaevan’s the name. Herbalist extraordinaire.”

“Ariei.”

“I know your name, Ariei. The whole damned city did. You sure made a show at the end there.”

He smirks, taking a drink. He offers it to me. I shake my head, frowning. Luciaphon slowly follows me outside. Gaevan spots him and laughs.

“That thing’s been glued to you since you got maimed.”

I nod.

“Its name is Luciaphon.”

“Come up with that yourself?”

“No, he told me.”

Gaevan laughs, pauses, realizes that I’m entirely serious, and makes a face somewhere between confusion and concern. Luciaphon pays it no mind, instead moving on his own back inside.

Gaevan moves around the outside of the headquarters, taking a seat on a chair he’s stolen from inside. I look past him. There’s a massive collection of makeshift grave markers. The wood has clearly been scavenged from any buildings that could be. The pieces are gnarled, burnt at the ends, splintered. They bear names all the same.

“The kids have really taken a liking to that beast. Out of everything I’ve experienced, I’d never have thought to see that. Not just a new breed, but an eidelion being patient with children.”

I look at the small collection of graves that have already been covered over. Gaevan notices.

“Ya gotta bury ‘em. That’s the only way to stop disease from spreading. The only way to stop the stench.”

I nod slowly.

“Who’s been doing all of the work? Collecting the bodies, burials?”

He chuckles.

“It’s less a question of who, and more of who isn’t. Everyone’s been putting in the work while you were out. The only one who didn’t is Sekra, and- well- he’s getting his beauty sleep, same as you. And the kids. I can’t have kids dragging’ corpses around.”

I can’t believe he’s being so casual about this- joking. I open my mouth to say something before I consider the situation. He’s dealing with this, just like the rest of us. If anything it’s positive that he has a sense of nihilistic humor about everything. Instead I sit beside him. I try to think up anything to say. Instead I go with what I quickly realize is a terrible way to start off with considering the situation.

“Gaevan. Did you have anybody?”

He snickers.

“Not anymore. They all died when I was a kid.”

I nod. Dammit.

“So. How did you become an herbalist?”

His face breaks out into a grin. I just now notice a scar dotting his cheek, running from the top raggedly down to the bottom.

“I used to run around with a couple of… interesting kids when I was young. Some of them grew up to become farmers, one became an emberstrand, one used to work as a machinist. But they all had connections, were born into it. Me? I was given nothing- except for this.”

He taps his head.

“I locked myself away for years, sneaking into the archives, studying up without having anybody in the trade to give me a chance. Eventually I thought of giving up- of just working as a craftsman or shopkeep. But I kept going, because, you know- what else? You gotta have some reason to keep going. And you know what?”

I raise an eyebrow.

“When I showed up in front of Cain- this was years ago, kid was just an assistant at the time- he was mighty impressed. I knew he had wanted a promotion, see, and finding somebody like me would give him quite the advantage. It was a good deal. He went and told his superiors. I landed myself a dream role, right there. Shot past all of them.”

I smirk.

“I’m sorry it all burnt down around you.”

He gives me a playful shove.

“Burnt down around me?! Are you kidding?”

I turn to him. It’s a wonder the man sounds happy. He’s been burying corpses for days now.

“I’m more needed now than ever. Everyone’s relying on me. I’m just doing my job, same as always. It’s just a different playing ground. That’s all.”

I sit there next to him. The eerie quiet is haunting.

“Gaevan. Why are you all still down here? There’s too many for all of you to bury. They’ll decompose entirely before you can finish the process.”

He sighs.

“First, we wouldn’t survive. You know more than anybody what it’s like out there- and we have children with us. Second, do you still think we can use the lift?”

I turn.

“We can’t?”

He grins with a heavy trace of sadness.

“Come with me.”

We move slowly throughout what used to be my city, my home, taking in every destroyed square, every broken icon of progress, every single achievement toppled. The people that lived, learned, loved, and made massive impacts in this entangled web of our lives are strewn across the stone streets, lying in pools of dried crimson that flakes and dusts as we step. I’ve tied a rag given to me by Gaevan around my nose and mouth, trying in vain to stop the smell from hitting me as hard. It barely works, and still creeps its way in as though it were an insidious hand coming to tear me from safety.

The farms and herb growing centers have been burnt to ash, the structures fallen entirely.

“What have you been eating?”

“Scraps, mostly. Bryatt’s been our main scavenger. He’s been doing good so far.”

I nod.

“Any seeds? Maybe we can start to regrow the farming vines.”

“Nope. Not yet. They were right next to the growing centers.”

I sigh.

“Surely somebody’s kept some, right?”

He shrugs.

“Don’t know. I don’t think anyone would’ve stolen some- or how they would’ve without getting caught.”

The stench suddenly gets far worse. We round the corner, bringing us face-to-face with the scene of the slaughter. Body after body is piled. All of them are still lying where they fell, clad in the same clothes, wearing the same expression. I search for any emberstrand. I can only make out a cape, burnt up until a miraculously preserved corner. It appears that it was a near-instantaneous death, a single blast from the hulking behemoths. It must’ve happened after Liet managed to send these few away.

It was instantaneous.

Gaevan stops in his tracks.

“Ariei. You don’t want to get any closer.”

I ignore him. I move past the mound of flesh and step closer to the lift, closer to the scene of my father’s last stand. The same centralian whose eyes I gouged remains there. As I move forward I start to see a pile of cloth.

“Ariei, stop, please. I’m worried about y-”

I hold up my hand.

I kneel over the corpse of my father. The cruel blade that impaled him remains, the curve sticking out as though a cruel joke. I kneel, getting my hand under the body. I grip the handle, take a deep breath, and start pulling. It’s tough- the steel is firmly settled- but after a few heavy tugs it budges slightly. With further attempts the blade slides its way back out.

I take the blade. I turn it over in my hands. Its glow has faded, leaving it in its state of cold steel.

It is an instrument of evil. I cannot allow it to persist.

I begin to search the ground for my father’s head. I cannot give him a proper burial without it. I take maybe fifteen minutes before coming to a realization that fills my entire being with cold, rushing rage.

They have taken his head.

After watching from afar Gaevan catches up to me.

“I’m sorry, lass.”

I turn.

“Where is Liet?”

He shakes his head.

“We don’t have to do this.”

“I need to see. I need to see them.”

He sighs and guides me to the scene of Liet’s battle.

A small collection of centralian bodies surround Liet’s. Her black cloak and steel armor cover her up. Her body has been run through with a small collection of blades. It’s almost poetic in a sickening fashion. If she were to see this, now, she’d be satisfied with her final statement.

“Why didn’t you bury them first?”

He tries to speak but fumbles the delivery.

“They were the heroes of us. Of you. The least you could do is-”

“We needed to bury those closest to our hideout first. We start there then move out. It was simply more important for our survival.”

“YOU SHOULD HAVE BURIED THEM FIRS-”

“AND RISK EVERYONE ELSE?”

His face is red. His hands are out, as if he threw the refutation back at me. It’s the first time I’ve seen his confidence break. I know that I am in the wrong. It’s clear to me. It was from the start. And yet, seeing them like this- it’s making me ill.

I should apologize, and yet I keep moving forward towards the lift.

They’ve dropped something down. A box. It’s entirely made of steel. I move forward and grip the edge of the cover.

“Gaevan. Come on. I need help.”

He slowly walks forward and seems surprised.

“It was a container the entire time? I thought it was an undetonated bomb.”

“I still don’t know. We’re going to find out.”

He raises an eyebrow, before sighing and helping me lift it. It’s extremely heavy, even for two, but eventually the hinges creak as it flips over.

Empty shells. It’s an ammunition box from a loftfort turret. They must’ve dropped it into the lift in an effort to kill the stragglers.

They didn’t even spare the time to look for us. It was a rush job.

I look upwards. The entire gear system is broken, the platform itself shattered. The arms point in jagged, random directions, broken into minute parts, bent and macabre. I stare upwards. The sky is dark, soft rains providing a slow flow across the ground that lets the blood flow anew.

“Let’s return to the headquarters.”

Gaevan chuckles sadly before turning away.

“See? We’re fucked. We have to find a different way-”

“We’re going to climb our way out. No matter what it takes.”

He stops, turning slowly.

“How are w-”

“And- tonight- we bury all of them. My father. Liet. Those who died in this final, senseless slaughter at the base of this lift.The others had a chance. They didn’t.”