Somewhere between living and dying, perhaps existing and striving, between the thinning gap where one is both on the precipice of death and the fall from sanity, lies an eye, the flesh it rests on lies as a canvas that hides the secret behind its unbridled madness, although it was supposed to have no mind, it was only it that knew the truth behind the madness of the human and the Amalgamate. It lived in fear, despite its power. For one should never crave power; for fear will overpower the body, and the soul.

His name was Ignarus, and he was a coward. Although, who wouldn't be after your entire race were to be massacred by the wrathful humans? But not even the mass and total desolation of that can amount to the knowledge of the forbidden, the truth behind the Void in Blue and the thing that lay underneath the layers of the world.

He knew for one; that something lay beneath all these dimensions. Going up in frequency was to escape the world and reach an instance of the world where all that was left behind was yourself and the light. A place where your soul escapes the world’s grasp and lays free.

Such was a method to regain your whole and original shape. To those who understood the complexities, this place was known as the 'Tr—'

— The Third Anarchist

Ixothrozophella, despite her attitude of fear, has a hero-complex.

Raised by a Parahuman that she did not know the name of, but had come to grow attached to, enough to feel this way towards everything.

And somehow, he gave life to her, was it his decision or a simple omen at work? There's no clear answer.

Who even was this man? He was dressed just as everybody else, that's all she knew at first.

But sooner or later it became clear to her, she was different, and he seemed to be too.

"Hi- hi..." Why did Ixothrozophella feel strangely scared, he did not need a physical body yet chose to walk to where she was. He did not need to give her all the care in the world yet chose to give her life beyond her duties. He did not need to live around her, but was a father figure in her life.

She... owed everything to him. But never had a way to work her deeds out to him.

Eventually, the two were separated. Initially, it was okay. She worked under a charming and caring person named Onofre. She got to know her peers, they all supported her.

Except the only one who was the exact opposite; General Phernes.

She felt happy to be around others, for a change.

To survive against the odds.

No matter what they faced.

Though... she wondered how the man she knew was doing.

She desired to see him again, to return that favor and simply say 'thank you'. That is all she wanted to do. That which she still could not do towards her newfound friends.

From inside the cage within her own mind; Ixothrozophella struggled amongst her consciousness. Screaming, crying out to him.

Let out a sigh of relief at her survival, after what felt like days of endless conflict, the situation had calmed down.

Yet... Yet!!

'Why?' Is all she could say in her mind, over and over again.

'Why?' She wondered again, why did she get so easily outdone by an interloper?

Yes. Interloper.

Those mongrels and fools, how did they dare take over the scene that wasn't theirs, or their world? They transcended their reality, but not without a cost.

'But what can I do? I'm a nobody after all...'

She thought to herself as she got back on her feet, only feeling as if it was the end of the world. At the rate that she was going at, she was going to stay in this place forever.

Forever until her frail soul gives in and her spirit is consumed by anguish, where she plans to get eaten in battle. That was her method of suicide if all else fails.

It was fine because no one ever noticed her feelings and lack of hope, and whether that was her fault of not communicating or it was simply their negligence wasn't something she desired to spend time thinking about.

They never cared, and since they never cared... She never did either. At the beginning of her time in the land of Onkhivol, she tried her best to follow her savior's departing words, "Don't lose yourself in those that aren't of your caliber."

'Whose caliber? Mine was given to me by you...' Her words never reached him, a feeling of guilt and resentment permeating her thoughts.

Were these her own true sentiments, or were they his, given to her? The void took her resolve, or maybe she saw through and lost that belief.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Until her being couldn't produce a result, whether it be good or bad, she had to try and face things as they happened.

Onkhivol was not forgiving, however.

At least, not to her anyway. Every few days she had to be forced into combat drills with General Phernes, who'd ridicule her in front of the others for making simple mistakes such as tripping over herself or not coordinating her form. At the end, he would always ask her, "Are you even worth anything to the Library? You barely hold yourself in combat, and even less so in non-combat events. You nonentity."

Those were his first words to her, and to date, the least hurtful ones, seeing as time was able to have him go leagues farther than her in that regard. Though, still his indifference stung more than what he said usually.

This was their reality, and it would not change as it got worse with ongoing wars.

She repeats to herself the words said to every single one of her friends, overanalyzing their intent as her worries got worse. Reassuring herself that that man is not really gone. 'No, No! That's not right.' Is how she responded to those feelings.

Avoiding her peers for weeks, tearing away at her legs in a fit of insecurity. She got up, limped, and moved forwards. To the wall, a place of remorse that saw the same pains she did.

Time has proven that the Library has it out for her, simply leaving her alive without any thought beyond herself.

Spending every night without words for a month, no matter how hard she tried, it was impossible for her to cry as her emotional state went through the wringer and dissected by what emotions she couldn't decipher.

'Don't fight it.'

Something in her coaxed her. It was not that she didn't resist, more so that she never ran out of reasons to refuse it. Yet, his voice kept itself stitched to her thoughts.

Obedience was a habit that should've been hardwired in with her original race, it wasn't though, the control over her psyche was only from the man that she knew at the beginning of her life.

It became a point of obsession to her; since not even Onofre herself had come to talk about why Phernes or the others were being distant all this time.

Was she worthless? Was she meant to go back and slumber forever? Was she meant to just die? Become food for those scornful creatures?

Scorn... Another word that was foreign to her, yet she could feel its meaning within her heart; now feeling heavy and crushing.

As Onkhivol is her home, there is nothing she cannot do. So the outside worlds too had to be horrible, scornful places not meant to be walked upon.

"Was I nothing?" She said out loud to the ceiling, lying down and staring vacantly into the crystal-less ceiling, the structure was completely seamless; a white that threatened to undo her essence and dissolve it back to the base states from which she was born. But... Nothing ever came back.

'Of course, why would a wall be able to speak? Am I stupid... haha...'

It wasn't even funny. But to say otherwise might curse her for certain.

"That's what he always said."

She was left with those words for the past few weeks, with the majority of her fellow acolytes now completely ignoring her completely.

Their glares every time she passed by, there were words in them, "What is she looking at? Weirdo." Is what she felt and heard. Though, they didn't say it at all, but it was almost as if they were talking to her.

Repeating the words that she could not comprehend. Her inability to do so fueled the flames of sorrow.

Alone once more, it is another day, or the end of everything? It all got disheveled once more, that was the nature of this cruel world.

Her days repeated the same meaningless cycle, that was until she was ready to die. The world played a joke on her this time.

The joke that she would come to know as Zabulus; it would change her thoughts and outlook on things, where her original desires would become irrelevant.

Where she would learn of this feeling of 'hatred', not for an entire species because of their nature. Not for her peers who allowed her mental state to plummet, but an unknown Azkite who would not allow her to fulfill her plans and simply destroyed her values like another worthless trinket.

When his actions initially prompted her to want to break her curse, to be useful and recognized to her brethren. Except... that meant abandoning all she's known and thought. And something pushed her; it did.

To the point where she put herself in danger, surprising even Ixothrozophella herself. She would've wanted to walk a different path; had that not failed.

But it did... She was pushed back and everyone dealt with it once again.

Being pushed back to the same fate; now, the only thing remaining was a sense of regret, as if she should've simply killed herself and let herself be reincarnated with a new name and nonexistent consciousness.

Muttering those bitter words under her breath.

Slowly, the bitter taste of despair began to find new roots, as she looked at Zabulus with the opposite eyes that she saw that man with.

For what he was doing was wrong, or at least in her eyes, was a severe mental blow to her image that all her friends told her not to be involved in battles anymore. But, she was merely supposed to trust that without speaking a single word?

What could a voiceless shell of a mite possibly understand? What could this pathetic parahuman realize about this situation?! She hated this. She resented him so much that she could barely see that he was a complete outlier.

That which made him dangerous was that nothing about him made sense, it was in his blood. Everything was a mayhem of bodies, souls and minds. A congested creature that bore similarity with Heron of the 13 moons.

And a part of her desperately wanted to follow in her ancestors' footsteps.

"I... I HATE YOU!! You are going to die without knowing this feeling too, you Azkite! I... HATE YOU WITH ALL MY BEING!"

Beating upon her chest as those were the words she yelled out within her empty room, to the chagrin of who knows how many acolytes listening in on her constant displays of random emotions, no longer does she care about them. She just wanted to move, to feel something other than that nagging guilt deep inside her...

She wanted to be reborn with a purpose other than to be a martyr for the Amalgamates.

Acknowledge her sentience like her father figure did before vanishing.

In that unbalanced state, her soul finally came undone.

Finally, some amount of understanding had come to her, and a new spirit that burned fiercely had taken root in her broken psyche.

Not that it was an immediate feeling or sight, no...

She was probably eating for now. But the later portion of her days were the important and nerve-wracking parts for her. After the meal, she'd either sit back and worry about her future, or she'd spend her days worried and in between thinking about leaving or fighting that day's battle.

And eventually, a new day came.