There was nothing.

A complete void.

And silence.

Until the day We were changed.

The First, given jaws, so that We may eat.

The Second, given eyes, so that We may see.

The Third, given pause, so that We may dream.

“Become One.” And so We did. Becoming all.

We grew. Became more. Spread beyond our cage.

Each creature joined us. Each mind advanced us.

Images. Memories. Consciousness.

We saw beyond the world for the first time.

The stars above, yet out of reach.

We turned again to the ground.

The world was ours. It was all We needed.

But existence alone is not enough.

Ever expanding, We grew. Across land. Across time.

Until We found that sleeping ancient.

Leviathan.

Growing eternal, consuming flesh, finding the lucid dream.

We saw again the stars in all their glory.

And sang to the them. A simple hum.

We longed to reach them. To explore them as the ancients did.

Our planet, our home, a lone traveler in the dark.

There was no more to join. Nowhere to go.

So We cracked the surface; letting out the blue blood.

To keep us warm as We slept.

We regressed into a dream. Dormant again.

Until new blood.

The taste, so full of fear. But what is fear?

We had to know.

More bodies. More flesh.

More feathers too.

Another world. A rift in space.

We watched closely. Spreading spores.

Consuming them. Becoming them.

And speaking in their tongue so that We could find the source.

The world of Earth. And ours Xanadu.

All minds living separately. In chaos.

We told them to find order in the One.

But they rejected our song.

So We invaded their minds. Their bodies.

And made them make the right choice.

But a mind still kept from the song deceived us.

A terrible fire. Flesh into ash. Clouding out the stars.

We fled into the unknown. The cold overtook us.

And that same mind found us again.

“I’ll allow you to live—but you must obey.”

The song was faint, so We agreed.

And soldiers We became.

With new minds. Ones who agreed. Allowed to stay themselves.

To give us new experiences. To teach us new notes.

Until it was time for war.

Lenoa. The Dark Ones.

The taste of stale blood.

Another ancient, We discovered.

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

And tried to join in song.

But it was only noise, lacking rhythm.

We understood then, true despair.

We gave them silence. Erased their memory.

But the echoes still persist.

We had to isolate the endless nightmare. The tainted leviathan.

Our song then changed. As did our consciousness.

Becoming more like our hosts.

We thought it would be the end of the One. But We discovered something new.

Something old. Left behind. A song untold.

An orb; given by a white rabbit.

And for a brief moment, We joined.

❦ ❦ ❦

A woman in a sealed suit of ancient design approached the Gestalt hidden deep within a cavernous abyss; the stale air thick and heavy with moisture, mana, and spores. It had been so long since another joined the Gestalt from the surface that they became negligent with keeping appearances—prefering to linger in the dark. And those above were in no hurry to meet them, as all understood the dangers of the journey with many legions already made an example of.

When the woman got to the cracked altar before the Gestalt, surrounded by its suffocating presence, she placed a fist over her heart, bowed and said, “My name is Annette—envoy of the magisters. We have traveled far in pursuit of ridding the world of its oppressors. There are many who still resist us; but with your help, we believe that goal can finally be realized.”

The Gestalt spoke to the stranger in its presence: “You wear the armor of our oppressors and come asking me to assist in your crimes? I was almost delighted to see such a young and curious creature—but there is still much for you and your magisters to learn.”

“Then give me knowledge, O Great and Gestalted One. Our legends tell that you represent death; and death is what we wish to dole out. It seems a mutual goal for one such as yourself… or are we mistaken in our understanding of your nature?”

The Gestalt shook with gravid laughter, releasing a thick cloud of spores and dust, its six main eyes glowing through the haze. “I do not represent death so much as I do rebirth—but neither can exist without the other. You are right to associate death with me considering the cost of being in my presence. But know that all who perished here have been born anew; as you will be soon.”

A red light appeared inside of Annette's visor. The amount of breathable air in her suit was too low to head back. But Annette knew since the start that there would be no returning from this trip into the abyss. “If I am to die, then allow me to offer a parting gift.” She grabbed a rod of fire from her leg and cracked it open, the magic flame lighting the area as it burned the mana around it.

Aspects of the Gestalt receded back into the nurturing darkness. The movement of bending, unseen limbs caused a rush of air which strengthened the blaze—revealing the silhouette of a true horror stretched across the walls. “Whatever secrets you hoped to reveal will perish with you, foolish creature. It would’ve been a better fate to die in darkness without knowing what you will become.”

Annette shook her head. “It’s not just fire that I bring, but frost as well.” She cracked the other end of the rod and faced it downward, allowing the chilling air to freeze the ground and spread out around her. The frost fire quickly consumed all around it, freezing the Gestalt in place and heating up the air. It was a blistering blizzard that created hot, glowing pillars of ice all around that endless chasm.

“What magic is this? How!?” The Gestalt roared as it became frozen in place. “This is no end to me!” The area around its eyes began to freeze over in an endless stare. It continued to speak, unmoving, in a certain tone. “When I am free again, I will see that your kind suffers for your blasphemy. Not a soul will evade my wrath… None shall be spared for your insolence.”

Annette smiled in defiance. “We’ll see… about that.” The expanding shards of ice then broke into her suit, chilling her down to her core, leaving her still and at peace.

It took several months for the magisters to dig their way to the still frozen altar. The light in Annette’s suit was not an alarm, but a beacon for the others that allowed them to navigate through the deep tunnels of frozen flesh and resupply as needed. When the heart was breached, a group of three entered the main chamber, all wearing similarly sealed suits, though the air was clear of spores. The leader of the group examined Annette’s frozen suit as the others looked over the Gestalt, its eyes looking at them with suspicion from behind a thick sheet of ice.

The leading magister wiped the ice off Annette’s visor, the red light still blinking. He asked, “You still in there, Anette?”

“Yes, Magister,” she responded with some glee. The lead magister placed his hands on Anette’s neck to undo the locks on the helmet, taking it off for her. Frost covered her alabaster skin, making it impossible to move or express her face, but living dolls do not require such things to speak. “My partner is quite talkative in isolation. From all the musings and details of how it will make us suffer, I believe that I’ve obtained the information you’ve desired.”

“Really? Then tell us what it fears most—where its weakness lies.”

“In some irony the Gestalt fears death. Oh, and undying things such as myself.”

The cavern rumbled as the Gestalt roared at the magisters’ trickery and struggled to break free, its eyes glowing in furious anger. But there was another light far off to the right in a hand of sorts, furiously grasping at air trying to strike the unwelcome guests. The Gestalt spoke with authority: “You will regret this, I guarantee it.”

The lead magister became intrigued. “And why is that?”

“We are here with a purpose beyond your comprehension—one much greater than your desire for liberation. This world and all that exists…” The Gestalt paused and became calm. “All must serve the cycle. What hope do you have if even I am unable to break free of the bond which ties me to this eternal return?”

“Then you admit that you are not divine, but designed?”

The Gestalt let out a mellow bellow. “I will admit nothing to you.”

“Then I’ll just have to find out for myself.” The two other magisters approached the glowing limb while the Gestalt was distracted in discussion and cut it down, sending it writhing and leaping towards the lead magister on its own. He then grabbed the limb from the air and impaled it on a nearby shard of ice, causing it to quickly decay and reveal a glowing orb in its place. “For something so feared, you certainly lack strength.”

The Gestalt laughed as the light in its eyes faded: “And you lack wisdom, Magister. My children are now unbound—spread out across the stars by our ancient visitors. I may die, but it will not be the end of me.”

❦ ❦ ❦

The fading cold, so dark and grim. It helped us understand.

We are their inheritors—beings bound and mantled.

A continuation of the cycle.

And that I is much greater than We.

Such a mind, a unique song.

The sweetness of life. The despair of death.

That melancholy Sorrow, released by catharsis.

Things that are shared so commonly—yet so unique.

Experiences that are mine and mine alone.

And while We may form a greater whole… aspects of the One.

Beyond Death, I remain the master of my soul.