Mhaieiyu

  Arc 3, Chapter 8

  The Land of God

  The earth of Him lay upon the eyes of the Northerners in every direction; a monotonous blanket without colours that devoured the landscape and all who dared dwell upon it. The humble towns of the coastline were the only settlements that could reasonably endure this malignant tundra whose snowfall never seemed to cease. Those same towns, the likes of Humston and El Virtuoso, housed wood homes permanently moist with ice. Their fickle fires that hid within—the only bastion from the cold, however long it may last—illuminated what was an otherwise permanently dim space. Even the brightest days weren’t strong enough to part the angry mist that loomed above. A mist so frighteningly chilled, that no wing-bearer, not even those warm wings of the Celestials, could possibly endure without stiffening their limbs and ending their flight in a freefall.

  Corvus dropped his altitude as the pair approached that miserable coast — its banished Rennie occupants watching his descent as an event to offset their mundane, albeit harsh lifestyles. Those brilliant wings of his, great as he was, seized with each new flap, forcing their heavenly travel to close. With a resounding thump, Corvus stood beside his Chameleon backup, Eclipse. The people that looked turned away, no longer interested in whatever these two wished to seek. Corvus figured as much. Celestials had, at one time, aided Yanksies in ripping their true home away from them. Nothing out of the ordinary. Misery bred more misery, as did their new home. At least the contempt was gone.

  “You were right, Corvus,” Eclipse admitted with a sneer, holding her arms. “This place is bitter. I can feel the bite through the fur.”

  “If you wish to stop now, I’ll ask the locals to give you refuge,” Corvus suggested, not willing to return home with his newfound resolve. A passing glance gave him her response. Though she did feel cold, hers wasn’t a fleeting one either. He gave an understanding nod and advanced with her to the town’s northmost edge; the border between bare-bones society and a great expanse of killer white. Corvus gazed upon the small cottages that vanished from view not even twenty feet away. This place, Honores, was the unofficial portal to the true Badlands. Its settlers were staunch melancholists; ever silent, always there. He spat at the floor and ground his boot into the snow, damning this place. Damning misery.

  “Let’s go,” he said, taking the first step through the deceased pine portal whose scribbles had long faded away. Eclipse tailed behind, enduring the buffeting winds to surprising effect.

  “Is there a reason this place is so hellish? Surely, a kind Goddess as Victus would not bother to make such an unpleasant landscape,” Eclipse asked, having grown bored of hearing only the desperate howls of clouds that failed to smite her.

  They had been trudging through the snow for a good hour by then. Corvus’ wings had been paralysed to such a degree that they failed to even twitch. Still, he endured, his blood blessed with blissful warmth. His would make a fine carcass to lay within if the time called. Eclipse, devoid of such luxuries, had instead focused on the intense mental battle of endurance, focusing her mind away from the winter. In the time they walked, the cold didn’t stop. It didn’t slow, either. Static was its fury. Endless were those howls. Nothing else to be heard.

  “Your reasoning challenges the very Goddess of the Cosmos. I’ll remind you I’m a sworn advocate,” Corvus shouted back, calm if not for the wind. “But no, this was no accident. Nor was it Her doing.”

  “Mortos? Isn’t he not one to spend time weaving land for us? Or did his supporters demand a special lair?” Eclipse raised her voice to say.

  “A lair. I feel as though you don’t take the Crimsoneers too seriously,” Corvus was exasperated, though her sentiments made him smile despite himself. “Wrong again, I’m afraid. It wasn’t a Deity.”

  “Ah… a Witch? That does make it ominous.”

  “Close. A Magician. And no small fry, though he wasn’t Anomalous. Tale tells, especially in Humston, of one man whose anger rivalled even Mortos’. A man of many titles. Let’s see…” Corvus’ pensive state lured Eclipse closer, not wanting the white to claim his words. She almost leaned on him, if only to hear him a smidgen better. It took a second, but with a snap of his fingers, he lifted his head and turned to her, and said, “Curse of Weasteve, Charred Orios.”

  Eclipse seemed disappointed at first, her curiosity far from sated, but she grinned a while after. “Ah, mythos from lands outside of mine. I love it. Just how much can people ponder, I wonder?”

  The fox-woman’s enthusiasm had begun to dwindle. Her perseverance was not one to be trifled with, but these lands cared not. They always won. Why had they come here, knowing their odds? She smiled again at their foolhardiness. Moreover, why did Corvus agree? Was he this desperate, or this arrogant to assume them capable of this place on their lonesome? Goddess, it was freezing. Freezing. The tips of her feet had begun to freeze dead. The urge to make a fire was too great, but it would be pointless. The wind killed everyone and everything. Even flame. Tales that spun worldwide told that even the mighty fire of Al-Incenhor stoodn’t a chance.

  There was something new now, in the white.

  Precious jewels of crimson, tiny ones, as well as ambers and sapphires. They were gorgeous little pebbles that shone just out of eyesight, deep in the fog. No matter how far they walked, they were always there. Sometimes just a handful, sometimes a crowd. Sometimes behind, sometimes to their sides. No matter where they walked, like a rainbow, they never faded nor neared.

  “What are those things, those bright things, that watch us so vigilantly?” Eclipse asked, her voice shaking uncontrollably.

  Corvus remained steadfast, untroubled by anything. “Lambda. They serve as silent observers. Harmless, unless provoked. They’re curious beings that wander the icelands. They watch, and nothing else. Unless provoked.”

  Eclipse nodded, incorporating this knowledge as well, wanting to ask whether they were aligned with the Crimsoneers or a new force entirely. She didn’t for some reason. The exile stared back at her footfalls. The sound of crunching snow entertained her dying mind.

  Something new. Something loud. Loud enough to overpower even the wind. Eclipse’s head shot up. Her neck had become stiff, and felt a crunch when she shifted. It’d been five hours since they began their trek. She’d only lived this long by virtue of Corvus’ increasing glow, like a warm beacon. But these noises tickled her ears. Loud noises, very loud. Smashes and crashes and breaking and splintering. Anger and growls and splatters and thunder. Vicious snaps. The beat of great wings. So distant, so loud. So powerful.

  Calm as ever, Eclipse broke their silence once more. “What are those noises? Those loud noises?”

  Corvus remained steadfast, untroubled by anything. “Those must be the warring sounds of two of four Devilbeasts. The Maulderhund and Gorgehouser have been at each other’s throats for more than a thousand years by now. It’s as common as singing birds to hear their battle here.”

  “I see,” Eclipse acquiesced, accepting this information so readily and easily. It was so cold. So unbelievably cold. It amazed her there was any moving blood left in her limbs. She realised that humans perished within fifteen minutes of this. No, ten. Five. “Will we die by them?”

  “No. Just avoid them. It’s easy.”

  “Okay.” Eclipse accepted that they were far from the biggest danger.

  It had been six hours.

  “Why are you so quiet?” Eclipse asked at some point. How long had it been? It frustrated her to have nothing to do but freeze. Her patience had worn thin. “Why don’t you speak? I’ve come with you, can’t you speak for me?”

  “I’m thinking,” Corvus said. He was steadfast. His movements never slowed, his legs never limped like hers had. He walked in the exact same fashion he always did. He was untroubled by anything.

  “Let me pick your brain, please. I’m dying.”

  “I told you you would,” Corvus said, releasing a quiet sigh. “I’m thinking of the time I met Emris. And of the day I lost my wife to this land.”

  “Indulge me.”

  But he didn’t.

  At some point, her sight turned black. All was white, except those jewels. The battle had quietened as they distanced from it, but now even the white was beginning to fade away. It bled into a darkening grey. The form of her feet bent and stretched. Her eyes opened less and less after each blink; eyelids freezing together. Even her brain felt cold. Those greys lost light until they became black. The white was gone, as were her feet. As were the howls and crunches. She receded, coiled, and dropped.

  Suddenly, she was warm again. Very warm. The crisp feeling of a split sunbeam caressed her chest. The ray felt strong, even through the canopies. The ever-powerful light of the Saintess could not be stopped by her green children. They, who waved gracefully at Un-Turbulus’ gentle wafts. The damp feeling of dew roused her from her sleep. That rich earthy smell, the distant calls of beetles and birds. The dirt on her fingers and under the nails that didn’t belong to her. The roughness of this oak. Eclipse rubbed her cheek on it, feeling its strong textures. How blessed was she to live in such a bountiful place.

  A brief rustle alerted her of someone else. She pried her eyes away from that affectionate tree and cast them upon a young boy. His body, surprisingly fit for his age, had stood the test of many challenges. Eclipse smiled warmly and welcomed him into her arms.

  “Are you doing okay up here marco harna?” the boy asked, peering carefully at her unusual expression.

  “Yes, moldele. I am contemplating.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “Compentapling?” he repeated unsuccessfully, getting a mocking giggle from her. He frowned. “Comtenplating.”

  “It means to think of many things important to you. Your past, your future. Your now. What will you do today? Have you thought about it, Young Qui?” Eclipse asked softly, yearning for his input.

  “Our Rhabpha will train me and the girls today. Then, I will make dinner with Matur and Patur.”

  Eclipse nodded, not satisfied yet. “And then?”

  “I will sleep.”

  “And dream of what?”

  A brief silence followed as Ezequiel contemplated. He nodded decisively. “Forever peace.”

  “Forever peace…” Eclipse nodded, leaning back into that tree and closing her eyes. “Peace. We shall dream of it together, then.”

  “Forever.”

  “As long as it may last, Young Qui.”

  The youngling refused her. “Forever peace.”

  “Forever peace,” Eclipse relented, embracing the calm once more. The quietness returned. The birds died. The beetles hushed. The trees stilled. Ezequiel was no more.

  But his warmth remained. In those antiquated memories, her shivers reduced, if only in spirit. Tranquillity rested within her, and would sleep with her, too. It was so cold she could die. It was so warm she felt beading sweat. Bolting upright, her body moved first before her mind could begin to jog. In an instant, her claws withdrew, slicing through their solid fixture. The snow returned to her eyes. Darkness was significant in this echoing place, far more than the blanketed sky. A shimmering flame caught her attention.

  And what a bright flame it was. The ice stripped away like herded sheep, starting from the tips of her blued toes and flocked by her limbs, abdomen and chest. The gears in her skull began to turn properly. Her sight returned to normalcy, and her overpowering senses calmed at once. It felt as dreamlike as her dreams had. So comforting, yet distant.

  A worrisome realisation pulled her from bliss. Eclipse turned her head left, then right. She was in some kind of cavern. The stench of old carcasses mixed with that of crisp snow. It reminded her of the unfamiliar scent of refrigerated food. Mere strips of red skin remained on the strewn bones of something bigger than her deepest into the chamber. The feeling of scorching heat engulfed her eyes. Eclipse realised she was tearing up; her spirit unbreakable, but so distant from home. She’d never been so far before. The world never looked so different. So hostile.

  A brilliant figure soiled by red stains stepped into the large gap that gave entrance to this place, his greying wings unmistakeable. Eclipse rose to her feet, even if it hurt. “Corvus.”

  The Celestial, whose natural brightness still hadn’t been snuffed out, scrutinised her condition with a fleeting glance. He turned back to the angry weather. “You’re awake. That’s good. You should stay here and recuperate for a bit. I have to make us a path.”

  “Can I be of service?” Eclipse volunteered, disinterested in her pleading body’s woes.

  “You should not have come here. I was foolish for bringing you,” Corvus sharply replied, giving no answer to her question.

  Eclipse hadn’t the time to complain as the brilliance marched back out into the fog, disappearing in sideways hale. She sat back down, feeling her numb fingers develop feeling. Frozen blood had warmed enough for her dextrous limbs to assume motion once more. When they did, she gave her wrist an interested look. Her hand changed smoothly to her whim, the fur of a fox withdrawing under skin that looked undeniably human again. Instantly, she felt the cold. That thick coat did wonders for her survival. Eclipse couldn’t help but admire the chitin slabs at her fingertips. Human nails fascinated her. Human nails, which reminded of just how different she was to Qui. Nevertheless, the Chameleon woman vowed to bridge that distance by all means necessary. Eclipse decided then that this snow would not be her deathbed.

  The ground beneath her shook half an hour later. In her spare time, Eclipse kept the fire alive with a soggy woodpile she took the time to dry with the smoke. Her eyes were trained on the entrance after the noise, and her doubt was soon quelled. Corvus returned, lugging a bizarre hulk twice his size. The hulk was only muscular enough to carry itself, clearly starved. Its skin—her eyes might have failed her in seeing—had developed an oxidised copper colour from exposure, only spared by a fair abundance of bodily hair, especially around the chest and chin; just above the latter was an especially large jaw and big, blunt teeth designed to break down bones and wood. It was as though a Gygant had been transformed by the winter, a functionless brain that only sought to eat — the product of that weather impossible to thaw.

  Corvus dragged the beast unceremoniously across the imperfect stone floor, leaving behind a trail of bright red. He dropped it back-first onto the firepit, invigorating its flames with mana before it extinguished. The small pit grew into a fierce roast, devouring the flesh of the deceased giant.

  The Celestial sat upon his legs and closed his eyes. “I hope you’re a willing meat eater.”

  Eclipse made an affirming gesture.

  “Good. Hroths barely make for fine dining, but only the dead are picky eaters here.”

  The Chameleon acquiesced wordlessly. A new concern claimed her. “Corvus, do we know where we’re going?” the now half-Vyxen asked.

  “Yes.”

  “How so?”

  “We do.”

  Eclipse sunk some at his firmness. The uncharming stoicism of his downward stare had lingered for a good while now. Dissociation, no doubt.

  “How far are we from a clue, do you know?” she figured she’d ask.

  “Six miles.” Corvus reached forward to pull the charred beast from the fire, flipping it over before dropping it belly first. Once more, the fire roared at Corvus’ command.

  Eclipse grimaced. Regardless of the Badlands, it felt awfully disturbing to cook a human-like monster this way. “I take it this isn’t your first time traversing this land?”

  “Far from it.” Corvus closed his eyes and leaned back on the rocks. “Far, far from it. I spent two years testing the waters.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “To find the missing Guardian, and punish him for his inaction.”

  Eclipse leaned on the wall opposite him. The air chilled for a moment when an especially strong current invaded their refuge. “Did you?”

  “I found him.”

  “You didn’t punish him,” she surmised.

  Corvus stopped responding. Neither of the two spoke for a minute, listening in on the snaps of wood. The tension felt like a mounting confession of dire sort. A soft breath preceded his words. “I discovered he had already been punished by mine own before. Perhaps it is hypocrisy, but I have never overcome my spite towards those responsible.”

  “If your kind already dealt their punishment, why were you still pursuing him?” Eclipse asked.

  “Greed is the Sin of wanting more of what you already have. So, they wanted more.”

  “More recompense?”

  “It was never enough.” Corvus’ head was nearly pierced on a rock when he banged it on a low ceiling. “Emris was the subject of discrimination as soon as the fad of his making settled.”

  The always curious nature of Eclipse tickled her nose. She leaned forward, warming her face on the blazes, smelling that odourless meat. “The fad of…?”

  “Emris wasn’t born through traditional means. He was an amorphous mother cell conglomerate given life by our previous Major.” Corvus noticed Eclipse’s subtle disgust and chuckled. “Indeed, he was but a slab of meat.”

  “A venerated role like that bestowed onto such a lowly existence…”

  “The Legion thought the same thing. The Major had delegated allkind’s most important defensive role into the hands of a science experiment. When Emris went on to escape his duties, he became the spite of our entire race.”

  The beast had been cooked sufficiently by then. With the woman’s unspoken aid, they removed the giant to cool and used their sword and claws to carve edible pieces off its corpse. Digging their teeth felt like biting leather shoes, and the taste was about on par, but their hungry stomachs cared not for such luxuries. The virulent gale became a nuisance to the alien twosome, who sat in silence during the course of their meal. The cold felt negligible at the skirt of the pit.

  By the time they had had their fill, the ‘Hroth’ had only had a leg consumed. Their wastefulness carried in the infrequent stares they gave each other, and the awkwardness between them. Their strength renewed, they stood almost simultaneously, not wanting to prolong this gruesome memory any further. The fire, unguided by Corvus, was extinguished not a minute later. The warmth of the cave sent pangs of nostalgic anguish as they left it; like a comfortable blanket after a full night’s rest.

  They returned to the snow, which hadn’t slowed, and all of two minutes mercied the return of the Lambda, their watchful eyes blinking into and out of view, only to shift around them as they passed through. The feeling of numbness in Eclipse’s limbs returned, though she more optimistically braced this fate now that she knew their journey had an end. This enormous expanse felt eternal, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t. That much was enough comfort to push on.

  The winds, for a brief window in a fortnight, slowed enough for a whispered conversation to take place. Eclipse kept her eyes trained on Corvus’ indomitable march. There was something so rhythmical and spirited about him. His drive was absolute. He would see his wife, standing or a grave. There resided in him the conviction of a madman. A madman is what anyone else would have guessed. A smile grew on the fox’s face.

  “You haven’t said a word to charm me, but you’re dazzling, Corvus.”

  “I am a being born of and to carry himself by grace,” Corvus explained, humouring her piqued interest. He eyed her back when he noticed that look of hers.

  “True to your roots.”

  “And you’re not,” he asked, though more so affirmed. He was right. Eclipse had thoroughly disgraced her upbringing having done what she did.

  “I don’t regret it,” the exile assured. “I will miss my family’s embrace, but their love and guidance is still here with me.” Eclipse emphasised by prodding her left breast.

  “I’ll believe you.” Corvus kept to his trek and returned to silence.

  It had been two hours and a quarter when Corvus’ pace slowed to a halt. The freezing temperatures had shown kindness, but still were inhumanely bitter. Eclipse’s every muscle shook and her ability to move her arms and neck had been all but hindered. Her pupils rolled to see what the Celestial had stopped for, only to notice a mountain entrance that shone with some of the most beautiful jade pillars she’d ever seen erupting from its maw and throat like a great many teeth. Corvus’ stillness gave her just enough time to take in the grandiosity of its features, to feel the boiling envy of what that Orios fellow had blanketed in his wrath, before proceeding within. She followed him with a spring in her step, wanting to get away from the snow as soon as possible. The inside of the tunnel glowed with those crystal jades stalactites and stalagmites, providing a dim yet sufficient light source. Enough to avoid tripping by the narrow gaps between the minerals.

  “This place…” Eclipse wanted to ask, but Corvus had already gone too far ahead.

  Rubbing her shoulders, though her hands lagged in moving up and down, proved to help in some part to remedy her stiffness. Her heavy breaths exhaled clouds of condensation, each directing her toward the shrinkingly distant Celestial. She wanted to shout, even scream out Corvus’ name; to wait for her, to hold her hand, to give her time.

  Corvus remained steadfast, untroubled by her. The dying signal ricocheting his skull was most fervent now. Its source was near, as was made obvious by the heat that loomed ahead. Corvus’ footsteps were strong, making no effort in disappearing himself. With how the heat neared, the Celestial was confident the source had no secondary exits to exploit. With this truth settling his mind, he took a deep breath, relaxing. He would have his answer soon.

  Eclipse’s breathing was ragged. She stumbled, more helpless than she’d been since her earliest youth, and cursed her body for its weakness. Twice she’d cut herself on the jagged pillars, their edges sanded by time into serrated knives and spears. Her claws were drawn, and with them she helped push off of the most protruded daggers. The metal scratched badly, reducing their pleasant sheen into a rougher criss-cross medley. A hole had been poked through her left gauntlet's baggy leather. The lack of Corvus’ heat made her panic, even if the snow didn’t reach these depths. Her desperation had her cut twice, thrice, quadrice more. Cold tangerine blood spilled in dots on her clothes, bleaching them a new colour. The warmth finally drew closer. Her eagerness grew, and though she dragged her ankle cuff across a jade that tore it apart, she finally reached the source of Victus-graced comfort. The sources, it turned out.

  When Eclipse clumsied into the scene, leaning on a flat bit of what was now just a pocket of crystals, her racing synapses made sense of something quite uncanny. Sitting at the core of this space was a Celestial, another Celestial, draped in hard scarlet armour; two diminished, tarnished wings covering tenderly the body of a young woman clothed in just simple garbs, a lethal choice in this region. She didn’t shiver, however. The curling goat horns on her head explained her immunity to the cold.

  Corvus stood before them, a step further than Eclipse, and watched them with a silent stare. The reflection of the crystals across the length of his sabre shone like little suns. Eclipse realised all too quickly that, like the shadow of the King stretching above mankind, death loomed overhead like a beacon.