Dec. 1st, 2015

halialkers: (Default)
 Chapter XIX: 

Zezhelanzunui collided with the shield with a rippling sound that brought with it a pained shriek from her and a wave of rippling destruction that reverberated through Azarath itself. The monster that stood forth laughed, a squelching slopping sound as its claws dug into the metal environment around it, carving deep grooves. Cthylla then leaned forward, and in a great cloud of greenish smoke the monster from primordial times and elder days beyond the Veil vanished and Xaderavcal once more rose in her stead. Seeing the same figure I'd come into conflict with, my eyes widened. The resemblance to Zee was eerie, save that where Zee perpetually laughed and joked as a wild and ravening beserker champing at the bit, the eyes that looked out from that face were cold and calculating with a strange and eerie detachment. 

The monster's eyes, I realized with a sudden stab of fear, looked out from the face of Xaderavcal. Smiling, again speaking in that strange and I realized strangely-accented use of our Father's tongue, she said: 

You call yourself the God of this age? You are but a vain and strutting monster, aspiring to power beyond your reach! I have seen the kind of power you aspired to wielded by one able to wield it, no mere abomination of madness and quiet despair howling in madness and praised by the remnants of once-living beings left only their flesh as relics of who they were! 

Then the monster's eyes widened, and Xaderavcal spoke: 

And you are the one who took my mortal incarnation and made her into.....

Her hand thumped her chest and the mutilated flesh on her face growled with a strange kind of vibration that in another context might have been comical but here marked a sign of dread. 


This! 

Her eyes narrowed. 

I shall punish you properly, Azar of Azarath, Zazhalzanai, who takes to yourself a name not yours! Igna of Domdaniel, I bid you rise! 

Azarath changed with an eerie wind that howled through it for a moment, and the world around me glowed with a strange light. The vain and strutting monster that had been my sister was gone for a moment in time, and a shattered, crying wreck was left, curled in a fetal position moaning and begging for forgiveness and to never turn into the monster that she was then. 

Xaderavcal looked at her, and for a moment the rage and anger softened, and she knelt by the crying Zazhalanzanai. 

If I could release you from the curse upon your flesh and blood, if I could slough off the pieces of the monster without the result being something still more unhallowed than this, I would. You retain sanity amidst the chaos and death that surrounds you, and hold on to that. Your  destiny is yet to be fully written. From your evil is born the hammer of doom that scours the unholy, and from your evil is born the shadow that walks and clouds even the light of the moon that makes the night glorious. 

Fate is the cruelest and the sternest of masters. And it, my father learned to his cost, is the only master that matters. 

And she stayed with the crying wreck, who remained there for hours, until the sobs stopped and she then sat up. 

So there is no hope even with the spawn of the stormer of the Gates of the Gods? 

No, no hope. 

Please, forgive me for whatever I do, when I don't remember who you are. You at least tell me, as did my father, truth. 

And we stayed with her until the change began and then Xaderavcal vanished in a strange shimmering, as I did within a cloud of darkness. The cloud dispelled as I saw standing by me both Zee and then the Lightdancer, each of whom gestured to me to go over to them. And so I did. 

halialkers: (Default)
 Chapter XX: 

That day, I learned from the Hammer of Doom the past that she went through. I did not hear, then, the voice of the warrior who annihilated the Outer Darkness wherever it lurked and hissed and reared forth in horror amidst primordial slime. I heard the voice of Deborah bat Omri, and learned from her the strange secret behind the name. I learned that the Lightdancer had been once a girl who knew only that she could do strange things, who went to Azarath and learned there of her invulnerability to all that was, even within the flesh of a mad God. 

Zee then smiled and told me her own past, and that the creature I had come in contact with was named Cthylla. And I learned then of ancient and horrible secrets, of a group of monsters from the far-flung realm of Xoth countless universes over that began to build a great and a dreadful empire. Of a war amongst these mad Gods of ancient days, and of a tremendous warlord who emerged full-blown from them promising a shortening of the way forward, and another who emerged to oppose him. Yet this grand and terrible prince of light, the light-bringer who promised that great new secrets were en route for his followers, father of Ythogtha, Gahatanothoa, Xoth-Ommog, and the youngest of the family, Cthylla, came to the conclusion that the best secrets were to be found by ascending into the great Kadath, in the Cold Waste, to confront the realm of the Primordial Gods, the gateway to Halls outside Time and Space. 

The monster did go there, yes. He had sought all that he would find. But beyond that gateway lurked great and dreadful monsters, the greatest of which was Azathoth's soul and messenger, the Crawling Chaos Nyarlathotep. Often a trickster, in wrath the Artist-Smith was dreaful and terrible indeed, and with a surge of awful power the entire Empire of Xoth was banished into dreaming-death in a vast necropolis, the shattered remnants lasting for a time in a war with strange fungoid beings and still stranger ones that looked like cones with odd upper elements, the former the maker of the fiendish Shoggoths that burbled in endless time and space. 

Zee told me that she had found in me a worthy opponent indeed, who relished like her the very nature of combat, and was not afraid to extend power to its greatest levels, if such was required. 

Then I asked them: 

And our elder sister? Is there nothing we can do for her? I heard her crying, reduced to this sobbing.........wreck of a colossus there by the deed of the other-you. 

Zee and the Lightdancer looked at each other. And Deborah said: 

No, there is nothing. Here Fate is at its cruelest. Were it within my power to cleanse the Azar, to make the Undying Flame of horror one that would be a perpetual light for healing and restoration, this I would do in a heartbeat. The hardest thing to do is to accept that Fate is what it is. Yet alone of us you have seen into Fate, and it is beyond you, and you it. You are unconstrained and able to defy ordinary things by perceiving them. Fate is what it is, and it is to each of us to bear. And to you, Fate gifts the freedom to be and to do as you please. 

Now, as I speak to you, it seems a great privilege. Yet as time winds on down in the eternal river that flows through space and time, it shall be what you make of it. 

She smiled. 

And you have done all that I expected you would do, and used that armor well. For that, I give to you another gift. 

And she handed me an orb that glowed as I placed it in my hand. 

A power battery, dear sister, that will grant to your armor great endurance. You and I have an appointment in a few weeks' time with our elder sister, when we go forth to see Igna of Domdaniel at home to see what she was before she became the monster. 

As I bowed formally to her, she said: L'Chaim! 

I smiled, and darkness enshrouded me and the sensation of weightlessness between worlds greeted me as an old and a dear friend. I knew, then, at last who I was. 
halialkers: (Default)
 I learned from my first adventures my own fate, and my own destiny. I was given the strange gift that more than others of higher spheres, I was master of my fate, and captain of my soul, able to steer Fate into directions that I wished. I was a voice that could call from the darkness with mockery and horror, and I was a being that could embody the splendor of something more than human, a voice from outer spheres that flew with agility greater than the birds of the air. 

This I pondered in the ruins of the Gotham where I was born, where the city was slowly recovering from the Azar's massacre. I sat on the roof, blending in with the shadows, only two white eyes gleaming in the darkness and a hint of fanged teeth where I willed the light to catch them. Here I could not go home again, for what home there was had been taken in bloodshed and death, and to reclaim it from the grave offered too much risk, at least as I was then. So I remained, sitting in the shadows, wondering what could have been and how having the freedom to choose meant I would secure better options than what had gone before. 

Then, looking to the sky and the light of the moon, I stood up and hovered, going to the derelict and rotting hospital where I'd been born. 

Out of the nothingness of sleep, the slow dreams of eternity,
there was a thunder on the deep, I came because you called to me. 

I broke the night's primeval bars, I dared the old abysmal curse,
I flashed through ranks of frightened stars, suddenly on the universe! 

Eternal silences were broken, Hell become Heaven as I passed. 
What shall I give you as a token, a sign that we have met at last? 


For there lay my mother's body, unburied and unmourned, victim to the unhallowed evils of circumstance. 

I would break and forge the stars anew, shatter the Heavens with a song. 
Immortal in my love for you, for I love you very strong. 


Gathering to me the remnants of the woman who bore me and brought me into this world, I levitated them behind me, and then forming a shovel, I dug a grave and placed her in it. Using my abilities further to form a headstone in the old Gotham cemetery, I wrote on it: 

Susan Meir, 1938-51

Love is the greatest gift that can be given. 

And for a time, a times, and half  a time I stayed and mourned, grief coming freely, as omniscience showed me her life. And I vowed then that even if power be asserted from hellish realms beyond the Veil to act upon me and through me, I would honor as a goal, even if fumbling in the attempt, one who chose to defy a God and made the God bleed, and in so doing created an image to live up to in a vast and pitiless omniverse where all that is is subject to cruelty beyond the wildest dreams of mortals. 

Profile

halialkers: (Default)
halialkers

March 2017

S M T W T F S
    12 34
56789 1011
12131415161718
19202122232425
262728293031 

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jun. 24th, 2017 12:08 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios