The first thing that struck Talia about her new surroundings was just how…cramped they felt. Not necessarily an oddity in itself, but when she considered that the room was, objectively speaking, enormous, the feeling was certainly off-putting.

Maybe it was the inscrutable chaos of ancient arcanistry and esoteric machines that seemed to crowd in on the edges of the centre walkway. Maybe it was the lingering echo of the lift’s collapse bouncing off the walls. Or maybe it was the soft, keening whine that whispered at the edge of her hearing, with no identifiable source. Nothing but a vague sense of…mental pressure. Like her head was slowly being squeezed in a vise.

If not those, then the glaring red illumination from something deeper in definitely did its fair share of biting at Talia’s nerves.

Talia’s vision swam. Blurry, indistinct shapes shrouded in red and thick shadows loomed on either side of her. In their depths, the glint of metal and glass and glossy panels. Long tables inscribed with runes and what looked like a row of sarcophagi standing upright.

A dizzying maze of questions and lost mysteries.

Talia shivered against the construct’s chest as the feeling of pressure intensified. A buzzing drone in the back of her mind. The grating of jagged shards of rock against rough sandpaper.

Something isn’t right here. It almost feels like…

…death. It felt like something was dying. The guttering of a candleflame under a child’s hapless breath. The last gush of blood through leaking arteries. A single, solitary heartbeat cutting through a millennia’s worth of silence like the cut of a razor across fraying thread.

Riiightt. That’s a normal thought to have. Add another point to the crazy tally, Tals.

Shrugging off intrusive thoughts of brain damage and the possible consequences of too many blows to the head, she turned to her protector, arching her neck to look up at its faceplate. The purple glow on its face —what she thought of as its eyes— was flickering, clashing with a red light coming from the centre of the room.

The only other light in the room, Talia noted leerily.

Damned night-eye pills. This wouldn’t even be half as creepy if I could see.

The construct lurched forward, catching her off guard. Were it not for the tight hold of its appendages, she’d have fallen right to the ground.

“Whoa there! Relax, friend,” Talia slapped jokingly. Then she noticed where the metal man was headed. “Heyyy, buddy? Let’s stay away from the ominous red glow, alright? No need for any of that nonsense. Last time you saw red, I thought you were going to kill me.”

Her own voice sounded just a little too high-strung to her ears, a little too stringent and tinged with panic.

The construct ignored her, of course, following the clear walkway toward the red light. Turning her fear to anger was a relatively simple job. A realization that her commitment to escaping powerlessness meant nothing when fundamentally, she was powerless. Defusing that anger was harder. She had to remind herself to take power where she could. And right now, the only agency she had was how she reacted to the situation. So instead of panicking, or fighting, or breaking down, she analyzed, craning her neck to take in their obvious destination.

The sandpaper on stone sound intensified with each of the construct’s ponderous steps, the grinding like a subsonic whimper in the back of her mind. It almost felt…sad? Like inhaling the scent of a library burning or looking at a priceless family heirloom, shattered to pieces. It was an ephemeral weight on her psyche that couldn’t be qualified. Either way, the sensation that wasn’t a sensation sent a ripple down Talia’s spine, covering her flesh in goosebumps.

Somehow, what stood at the centre of the chamber was even more unsettling. Or perhaps it might be better to say it was the source of her disquiet.

A large…tube. The clearest glass Talia had ever seen, etched, like everything else in this place, with the most delicate array of runes she could imagine. Perfect geometric whorls swirled across its entire surface, both refracting and emitting light as if carved from the stuff of dreams. The glass itself seemed to be the source of the red glow, though a panel at its base held…spellwork. Something vaguely similar to what she’d interacted with by the door.

As wondrous a sight as it was, that was not what stole Talia’s attention.

Within the glass tube lay… a mass.

A tumour.

It pulsated, twisting at her perception.

Looking at it directly hurt her eyes, like staring into the arcano-sun for too long.

As they drew closer, a mellifluous voice echoed silently in Talia’s ears.

That language again. It sounds more coherent this time. Is that…thing speaking?

But no. That was impossible. It had no mouth that she could discern. Nothing that would imply any ability to speak. And yet… It was alive. The second heartbeat that thumped in her ears belonged to it. Slow and laboured, but no less powerful.

The metal man’s steady gait drew them closer, but any thought of fleeing had long since blown away like dust beneath the assault of great big forge bellows. Her eyes were riveted to the scene before her, consumed by morbid curiosity.

Though Talia hadn’t noticed until now, the tube stood on a pedestal recessed into the floor. Almost like —exactly like— an inverted dais. A larger replica of the amphitheatre-like construction where she’d gotten onto the broken lift.

Talia winced as the construct carrying her reached the end of the walkway and stopped at the first step down. The guttering-candle sensation returned, its mournful cry like the stab of a steel spike into her skull and the weight of a stake in her chest. The feeling tore at Talia’s mind, sending her into another fit of shakes and agony, robbing her sight from her. Something within her both pulled and strained against it. Hot slag melted over her nerves. Pins and needles and stilettos jabbed up her limbs. The tinny voice rose to a crescendo, losing all pretense of coherence in favour of repetitiveness.

The same few words, garbled and distorted. Blaring. Ringing. Pleading.

It took Talia a moment to realize that the voice was both in her head and in her ears, her thus-far protector repeating them in perfect cadence.

Then something…clicked.

The voice stopped, and Talia could see again. After-echoes of pain throbbed all over her body. Sticky liquid ran down her cheeks and over her lips, the taste salty and coppery on her tongue. But the pain and bleeding only registered tangentially. She gasped as she beheld what awaited her at the bottom of the concentric circle of steps.

What the hells happened here…?

But she knew what had happened. Or at least, there were puzzle pieces enough for her to make a good guess.

Nonetheless, in her muddled state, she struggled against the realization. Memories and knowledge from before her fall seeped in through cracks in her head, all clamouring for her attention.

Struggling to make sense of it all.

Talia wasn’t religious, by any means. At least, she didn’t think so. Relying on instinct, it felt like she gave proper respect to her ancestors, as a dwarf would and should, but those same instincts told her the dogma of the Temple had never appealed to her. Or maybe she had simply never dived into the theology of the matter. Just thinking of it gave her nonplussed feelings of…disinterest? Disbelief? Either way, even without her memories, she got the sense she’d had other, more important things to focus her energy on. However, living in a society clearly meant she’d learned things by osmosis.

Or hey, maybe I am religious, and I just don’t remember it. Eh, probably not. Feels like something that would stick. Right?

She chuckled, caught in a rising bout of hysteria.

The Temple taught that the Ancients were gods and that after creating the arcano-suns, they’d gone off to fight the oh-so-nebulous and looming Tidefall. Yadda-yadda salvation, eternal spirit, ascendancy. Or something like that.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

I’m pretty sure it’s the whole principle of the religion, but I’m probably butchering it.

Stop.

Who. Cares. Focus on the here and now.

The point was, if Talia had her rudimentary theology straight —which was unlikely— most who followed the Temple’s teachings believed the Ancients were still out there, fighting an eternal war from the heavens and hells. Recognizing that she was dissembling and diverting, Talia smacked herself, unable to tear her gaze from the still, armoured form laying at the foot of the tube.

“The Temple is wrong,” Talia muttered despite herself, almost disbelieving, “The Ancients are dead.”

Disbelief could only take her so far, however. For what else could the three-metre suit of runed armour be, but the corpse of an Ancient?

“Or at least, this one is dead.”

What the fuck have we gotten ourselves into, Tals?

Of course, that was not all. Arrayed around the corpse, in various stages of disassembly and destruction, were another half dozen metal men, seemingly identical in every sense to the one carrying her.

Well, almost identical. These ones were very much…not operational. Liquid limbs lay scattered about the place, torn to shreds. A few were missing faceplates completely, while every single one, without fail, had its chassis torn open, the cavity within exposed and scorched to the point of melting the enigmatic alloy they were made from.

They were slaughtered. And yet…

So was the titanic, armoured corpse. Though if she were to compare ways to die at a glance, Talia would likely choose whatever had killed the mythical being over being torn to shreds like the constructs.

They were arrayed around the glass tube and the corpse slumped against it in kneeling positions, like supplicants at an altar, seamless metal bodies motionless and still.

In the rockfall of her thoughts, Talia failed to notice just how close to the glass tube they were getting. It was upon them before she knew what was happening.

Talia turned nervously to look up at her ride’s faceplate, tittering nervously.

“Look big guy, I don’t know what’s happening here, but why don’t you set me down? Sound good?”

It remained silent, glowing eyes staring at the shifting mass within the tube, head assembly shifting minutely from side to side in micro-movements.

Talia followed its ‘gaze’, taking her first good look at the thing behind the glass. Even through the glowing runes, staring directly at it…bent her perception. The world itself seemed to twist around it. But it was…organic, definitely. Silver and white and brownish red. Like the giant heart of a worm pumped full of liquid metal. As she watched, the whole mass seemed to pulse, contracting weakly.

Even then, the very air around it rippled in a realm beyond the physical. The imperceptible wave brought an increased pressure behind her eyes, and for a moment, the voice in Talia’s head returned, clearer than ever. An odd certainty came over her that there was no liquid in the tube, that somehow, the mass was floating of its own volition.

In the end, it was too much— Talia screwed her eyes shut, pressing at her temple with her single functioning hand.

So overwhelmed was she that she barely noticed when the construct finally heeded her request and set her down, leaning her gently against the base of the tube. She cracked her eyelids, noticing that her metal friend had kneeled just like its dead brothers.

Right next to the Ancient’s corpse.

Oh my gods. Wait, no.

Could gods die? If they did, were they still gods?

Talia winced, rubbing at her temple again and closing her eyes.

Too much thinking.

The…pulsing from the tube was accelerating, rising in tempo as something changed within it. Talia couldn’t see it, but she could feel it. Like a flame in the back of her thoughts. No, not a flame, a bonfire. A beacon in the darkness of her thoughts, warming her like the rays of the arcano-sun.

It sang of connection. A connectedness that spanned… distances unfathomable. Humming with life and sorrow and purpose. Duty. One that sat at the core of its being, unshakeable and incorruptible. Divine. Shackled divinity, directed toward a greater good. A mind so complex it could hardly stand without a box to contain it.

I’m losing my mind.

Opening her eyes, Talia sucked in a breath. Then she noticed the construct.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” she blurted out without thinking.

The metal construct ignored her. Talia watched, unable to look away. Its chassis had split down the middle, exposing its internal structure for her to see. Gold and copper and a dizzying amount of runework. Black cables and sleek nodules she couldn’t identify. All to channel something. Pointed at an orb of something both fleshy and metallic at its very centre, enshrined in a glass ball that glowed with purple runes.

crackle

The glass shattered, revealing its contents: a ball of pulsating white and silver flesh that undulated hypnotically. Silver blood blackened around the edges like oxidation on copper pipes as it surged out of the cables within the construct’s chassis and into the orb, causing it to expand.

The metal man’s appendages reached into itself, spindly, liquid digits forming at their tips and cupping the ball like a mother would her babe. With either reverence or deliberate slowness, it brought the nodule of metal and flesh up to the base of the tube.

The panel with the same…magic from the door expanded accepting the metal man’s offering.

Talia’s thoughts whirled as she watched a very obviously physical object disintegrate into nothing more than a hazy silver cloud before disappearing altogether.

Unfortunately, her inattention cost her, as she only noticed the fluid appendage wrapping itself around her wrist at the last second. Too late to stop it.

Though it shouldn’t have, the betrayal hurt. That it was an apparently soulless…thing did nothing to dampen the blow.

With its last act, the runes across its chassis already dimming to nothingness, the construct that had brought her here trapped her hand against the panel.

The panel, in turn, did as panels apparently did. It bit her.

All at once, Talia was frozen. Unable to move. Trapped.

She felt it in that other sense as the mass in the tube stirred to life like a plant given water for the first time in years.

Talia braced herself, determined to face what came next.

Come on you tumorous fuck. Hit me with it. Can’t be worse than what it took to get here!

It did.

Something reached out to her, brushing up against her thoughts. It almost felt like it was…asking permission? The same tinny voice spun up again, presumably entreating her verbally.

Talia’s first instinct was to deny it.

I don’t know what it is. I don’t know what it wants. I don’t know anything. Hells what if it’s…I don’t know a demon or something?

If she could have laughed she would have. As it was, she was simply glad her mouth was close this time.

The mass repeated its inquiry. The same voice, the same question, as if it was all it knew how to say.

A little voice at the back of Talia’s head muttered.

What choice do we have?

Frustration and helplessness boiled up in her like one of… the memory to make the metaphor she wanted was missing, but the sentiment was unchanged. If anything, the lack just made it worse.

The mass did not care. It repeated its inquiries.

Eventually, paralyzed, unable to make any other choice, Talia just…let go.

With an instinct she didn’t even understand, she reached out to that bonfire of thought and duty.

AAAHHHHHH—

It felt like she was pulling her brain matter out through her ears. Like her soul was being ripped out of her through a straw. It burned and froze and tickled and itched and laughed—

Talia’s mind scrambled into a mush of thought soup. Colours and memories and random words sprinkled on top like seasoning as an ache built up in her chest. Like the light of an arcano-sun was being channelled through her sternum and into the mass.

She wasn’t being hollowed out, no, that would’ve been so much better. She was a pipe. A pipe, filled with the hottest, stickiest magma the Deep had to offer.

Then it stopped.

Blessed numbness raced across her skin in a rash of goosebumps.

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Talia whimpered as the voice reverberated in her head like a gong.

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An almost fluid sensation wormed through the air, scathing with its heat.

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“Help,” Talia rasped, feeling her consciousness fade.

I can’t feel my fingers.

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“PLEASE,” Talia begged, sobbing, “Please help me. I did what you asked.”

The numbness had spread to her shoulders, everything below her waist nothing but a blank void. Her mind was a haze, threatening to teeter into unconsciousness at any second. The only thing keeping her awake was the resounding voice in her head and the fear that if she fell asleep, she might not wake up this time.

Not like this. Please, gods, not like this.

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The last thing Talia saw before the black claimed her was the glowing figure of a woman with horns, her body wrought of shimmering blue diamond as she phased into existence before her.