“A visitor. How... Quaint. Been a while.” A bored and unimpressed voice called from the bench overlooking the octagonal chamber. Tyr craned his neck, fighting nausea to look up at the man. His ears were pointed and his eyes the color of blood. Not bright and red like Ayla's were. Tyr had no idea how much time had passed, but he hoped she was doing okay. Based on what remained of his knowledge regarding the experience... At least twenty years had passed, easily.
Either ten or forty in the outside world, he'd come to greet them as a young man, and most of his friends would be old. Some of his older companions might not even be alive anymore... “Are you going to rise, or...? You've no need to kneel to us. It's not like we're kings. We are here to...” The man speaking read from some pamphlet. He was incredibly pale. His skin as white as snow, with long blond hair and a neatly manicured goatee on his face. Tyr had met many men like that. Trying to use facial hair to cover up a shallow jaw or otherwise feminine features. It didn't work for this man, and it certainly hadn't worked for the others.
Though, just a glance told him that despite this being real, his physical appearance was not.
“We are here.” Another voice came, significantly more friendly. “To judge his performance in the ascendancy trials, the real ones, that is. Welcome.” This one was handsome. Like two brothers, they looked near identical, but one had happy eyes where the others were drooping and tired. A third figure made its way into the chamber, approaching Tyr and burying his teeth in the mans flesh. The cheery eyed 'judge' cried out in alarm as the frail figure hung about Tyr's shoulder.
“Er... What are you doing?” Tyr asked. A wasted effort, because not a second later did the fanged humanoid fall off his back, squealing in agony. All before becoming a dry lump of dust on the floor of the chamber. “Huh...?” He looked in askance toward the judges. Three of them, now, another emerging from the rearmost chambers.
“A newborn. Alarming, but not unexpected. He'd have died anyways. Not all of our kind can control their urges.” Droopy-eye said.
“Still... Did nobody think to check their chambers? What would become of us if a dozen more smell him and come to die? They can't drink REDACTED blood. Oh, fucking hell, can you fuck off with that!? The boy has a right to know that he's REDACTED. I swear to the REDACTED that I'll shove my foot so far up your REDACTED that you'll be begging REDACTED for...” Cheery-eye sighed. “It's really no use, is it?”
“Of course not!” The administrator made itself known in the chamber. “I possess the power capable of turning all of you foul creatures into dust! Try your luck, I hope you will!” Her voice as cheery as always. “If not for the lack of mortal beings to man this installation, I'd have ground you into ash, something only you grand mistakes of cosmic injustice like you deserve! Ha! In our opinion, you deserve only two nails and a--”
“We get it!” Droopy-eye said.
“I'm assuming you're a virgin?” The smiling member of the trio asked, and Tyr nodded. “That explains a bit, though the reaction was a lot more violent. REDACTED, perhaps. Interesting, we haven't seen one of yours in quite some time.”
“Who are you...?” Tyr asked. He knew why he was here. But 'foul creatures' certainly didn't bode well. He had been in the midst of his however many trials before coming through and completing them, deposited here with his memory of all he'd done wiped. It was not a comfortable feeling, but according to the administrator, he'd learned 'truths of the universe' that an 'incomplete Aesir' cannot know. None of which made sense. “What are you?”
“Who? I am Vedouin, and these are my brothers Sanguinar and Telbid. You are Tyr, a nephilim from Hjemland... Three? Four? Well, whatever. As to what we are, vampyre would be the most appropriate descriptor of our race. If that's what you mean.” Cheery-eye, or Vedouin as it were, said calmly.
Tyr balked, pulling the twin daggers from his dimensional ring and dropping into the panther stance. Ready for combat. “Vampires.” He growled. Disgusting creatures that fed on the blood of humans. “Undead.”
“Not vam-pie-err. Vam-peer. There is a different.” Sanguinar scoffed, as if he was supposed to know the difference. “Don't be a damn racist. And we're not undead.”
Vedouin chuckled. “Expanding on my brothers words, we are not vampires. We are vampyres, and there is a difference.”
“Do you feed on human blood?”
“Yes.” Vedouin nodded. “As well as practically any blood available to us, whether it be animal – monster – or bipedal humanoid. Doesn't really matter. Can't feed on yours, though. So be at peace.”
“Do you fear the sun?”
“I suppose you could say that.” Vedouin replied, drumming his nails on the surface of the table in a pleasant rhythm. “Though not for fear of a sunburn. So many of your kind fear the darkness, but I promise you - there are far more terrible things hidden in the light.”
“Build caverns in the ground to hide away from it, full of your future victims while practicing forbidden alchemy?” Tyr asked.
“Sure. I suppose. I'm not much of an alchemist, but Telbid is. Sanguinar leans toward the smith, and I myself love to knit!” Vedouin smiled. “Tailoring. I wouldn't say we build caverns though. Some of our kind do indeed live in mountains, but I've always preferred nice, cozy towers.”
“What the hells is the difference, then?”
Sanguinar sighed, shaking his head. “Why don't you shut your lips, eh? I could turn you into paste on that pillar behind you should I wish to, but I haven't. You've no right to postulate your morals as if you are above us. We are what we are. Seat yourself.” There was an authority in the tone that demanded compliance, and yet Tyr remained standing. Astonishing them all. If ever there was a defining character trait, his would be stubbornness.
Chuckling, Telbid – who was much larger and more muscular than the other two, guided them to their seats and sat them by force. “Apologies. We sons of Altrimar are here for a task, and we'll see it done. You've no enemy in us.” He assured, but Tyr remained unconvinced, daggers aloft and kicking the chair that had been indicated as his place in the hall aside. Well, he tried to. Made of wood, it seemed much harder than steel. Refusing to move and sending a rolling agony through his shocked foot after the attempt. Even Sanguinar laughed, this time.
“First, we'll answer any questions you have within reason. This is a compulsory via the administrator who also decides what we can and cannot say to you.” Vedouin said. “Naturally, you are full of questions, and we will try our best. This is not part of your 'reward', necessarily, so ask away and freely.” Sanguinar groaned in annoyance. “And ignore my brother, he is... Himself.” Vedouin winked.
“Am I a primus?” Tyr asked.
Vedouin paused, silently communicating with the intelligence of the tower. His lips moved, but Tyr couldn't hear anything beyond whispers of 'redacted redacted redacted redacted redacted redacted redacted', and so on. All within expectations. Eventually, Vedouin turned to him and nodded.
“You sure are.”
“Why do I not have powers?” Tyr asked. “Like Iscari. Is Jartor my father?”
Vedouin paused again. At this, they all seemed conflicted. It was Telbid who spoke. “Yes, and no. You are... I'm sorry. There's not much I can say to elaborate. What you call a primus, which is really just a nephilim, they do not have biological sons. So you are his son, but you're not. Every one of your kind, regardless of affiliation on this world, is a shard of something far older. Even your friend, none of you are 'related' in the traditional, biological sense.”
Standing again, Sanguinar leaned over the bench to address him. The whole chamber was so similar to a place of law that Tyr found himself feeling like he was on some sort of trial. “Do you even know what primus means? You don't. In the ancient tongue, it means first. First as in, the first of many. A primus was, or is, a herald. To what? I've no clue. It is a vocation, not a birthright. Whatever you are... You'll find out in time. Or you won't. Maybe you'll die. I do not care. Now leave, wretched one. Begone from this place and do not return.”
Vedouin shook his head. “He can't leave, you daft fool. We have to finish here. And for the record...” He winked at Tyr again for some reason. “I am more than happy to allow you to stay. It's so nice to have guests.”
Pouting very much like a child. Sanguinar huffed, allowing his 'brother' to continue.
“What he said is true. Primus means herald. Your particular world considers it a bit differently, but a nephilim is a nephilim. Jartor, Ragnar, all the others. They are simply nephilim. Primus is an appropriated word that they've lost the meaning of over the ages. Technically, they are not heralds, but you and one other are – contrary to what Sanguinar says. You are nephilim, and you are 'primus'. Technically. Typically, these are godlike existences, but as your kind have broken away from the ordering... Sorry.” Vedouin shrugged. “There's not much more I can say. But you are, if it concerns you so. Sanguinar and I differ on our opinions regarding your kind, but we fear you – hence the wretched part. And now little we know.”
Telbid would ask a question of his own. “Why does this concern you? What do you know about your kind? That might make it easier.”
Tyr shrugged. “Not much, only that we're some sort of sentient biological weapon sent to scourge worlds and bring... I'm not sure, really. Peace?”
“Close enough to the truth.” Telbid nodded. “I wouldn't say peace is necessarily the prime directive, but order is a sort of peace in itself. You aren't seraphim, though, so that's good.”
“Seraphim?” Tyr asked, eyebrow arched. That was a word he hadn't heard before except in the legends about the 'angels', the half-sons of gods and mortals. In other stories they were lesser gods themselves, servants of the prime light deities.
“Nephilim, auronim, seraphim.” Sanguinar explained, following his brothers lead and adopting an almost educational tone. “Three individual forms of nim. There might be more – but I've only encountered two myself, and I was of the third. Once. It's a long story – and I won't tell it. One to shape, one to build, and one to enact the will of the destroyer. They are sub-celestial light entities, and on some worlds they inhabit the bodies of lesser humans when certain conditions are met.”
“Were humans first, or the nim?” Tyr asked.
“They are the same thing.” Telbid answered. “Nim and 'human', as in humanoid, mean the same thing by different tongues. I don't think anyone but a god of order could answer that question, but I suppose it's rather obvious to me that the auronim would've had to be first. I doubt the gods went about choosing a race to hijack an appearance from. Things that created the known cosmos ought to be more creative than that, don't you think?”
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
“Alright...” Tyr felt a headache coming on, but resisted the urge to rub at his temples. “If I'm a primus, what am I the primus of?”
All three brothers looked amongst themselves, speaking in hushed whispers before Sanguinar leaned forward to address the question.
“A nephilim such as yourself, 'naturally' born for sake of the argument, is not born with some mystic power. You are what you want or need to be in any specific circumstance, and it settles. What you want most of all becomes your aspect. That is the way of the nephilim and who they were created to be. Tools that become what is needed of them rather than the other variants who had far less adaptable natures. Less prone to change.”
“I could tell you what you want most of all, but I won't. You'll ask why, yes? Because I do not care to. While I've no problem with you in particular, your kind disgust me. As all other nim do. Your sole purpose. Nay, your souls purpose, is to reave and rape and destroy. To invade and conquer, and leave broken worlds in your wake. Your ancestors may have chosen to stay and break away from the ordering, but that does not absolve you of being a creature that should not exist.”
“Sanguinar...” Vedouin groaned.
“Yes, yes. I've no intent to harm the boy, but he is what he is. Regardless, the rewards for clearing the trials are yours.” Sanguinar concluded. “Though you'll notice that your trials were absurdly easy, in my opinion, so I wouldn't expect anything nice.”
Tyr ignored the vitriol and asked again. “Am I the primus of love? I know it sounds ridiculous, but someone once told me that I might be. I'm not sure how long ago that was, my head is still spinning. How do I use that to become strong like Iscari?”
“Unlike my companion, we do not all share his opinion. While he is correct in many ways, we understand the necessity of the nim. Your kind become what it needs to, hence why the lesser spawn you call humans spread throughout the cosmos so rapidly. They no longer need power, so they lose it. Become something else. Lesser, but not worthless, all serve a purpose. Conforming to the greater order, no power lasts forever. Think on who you are, and what you want most of all. You've always wanted it. It is an obsession of your kind to find a thing and latch onto it. Feed on it and enjoy it most of all. As for love...? No. You are not, but it's not so far removed from what I see. However, be warned. Your aspect can change before you awaken based on your actions and psyche. Be careful of the steps you take along your path, for it can and will change you.”
“If I may...” Telbid added. “You don't want to know what it is. Believe me. Your aspect has not fully manifested yet, but it is trending in the worst direction. Live a normal life, start a family. Learn to let your scars heal, or you and your world will suffer greatly at your hands. You won't be able to control it, or choose how it reflects on the people around you.”
“Hmm.” Tyr considered their words, recovering slowly from the shock to his system and realizing again who or what he was speaking to. “You're vampyres. Creatures of darkness, why should I trust your words? Could you not be telling me this to keep me weak?”
“You look at us as blood sucking leeches, and that is fair. A leech is natural. We feed, but rarely do we kill. Can you say the same of all the living things you, or your people, have killed to feed upon? Your kind has killed infinitely more thinking creatures than we ever have. We are beings of entropy, not murder. Darkness is part of the natural world. Entropy has to exist for life to flourish and develop. Without the balance, things would grow stagnant or rampant life with no concept of a cycle would devour the universe, and then itself. There has to be stakes to living, rules for it. That's just the way it is. Dark does not mean evil. There are things and words for that, believe me, you'll see it all in due time.”
“Your said you were sons of Altrimar.” Tyr said. “Did he teach you this?”
Altrimar was like Solomon. Darkness instead of anima. One of the authors of the black books Tyr kept in his dimensional storage. One he hadn't gotten a chance to properly read.
“He did.” Telbid replied.
“Will his book answer my questions?” Tyr asked.
Vedouin shook his head confidently. “If I were to give you one piece of advice that you should heed above all others, it would be to never read that tome. It will show you things that you are not meant to see. Instead, read of Veda. She was Altrimar's wife, and both understood the discipline of the other. But I would advise you to destroy the tome of our creator. Even he wished for no living thing to ever lay eyes on it. Not because darkness is evil, but--”
“That's enough, Vedouin. We can't say more.” Telbid grabbed at his brothers hand to silence him. The administrator would only go so far in censoring them before annihilating them altogether.
“Ah, yes. Causality, paradox in time, blah blah blah. Just get rid of the book, kid. Trust me. It's not worth it.” Sanguinar came. “I am acquainted with your world, and knew well the man who took my light from me. My 'father', if you want to call him that. Your desperation to be something will damn you for all eternity, and not in the fun way.”
Tyr snorted in disdain. “I'm going to read it, unless you tell me why I shouldn't. I don't see why I wouldn't, after hearing all these things about the black books and finding them false.”
“False to you. Most of them are most certainly cursed, but the beings that made those curses cannot see nor find you. They want men to know because it is all part of their game. However...” Telbid looked nervous, staring up at the ceiling as Tyr often did, wondering where the administrator was. Or perhaps how it would act in this case.
Sanguinar coughed. “Our creator, your Altrimar, discovered the true essence of darkness. The origin of all destructive force in the universe, and he used it to ascend to godhood. The elements sit at a core of the universe far beyond petty gods and those with such an intimate relationship with their origin achieve elemental apotheosis, shedding all connection to the dao in exchange. Even now, presumably, he is a god. At least in your plane, though he could have traveled to another. That is what happens when a mortal manages to bond with the origin of the primordial forces that govern the cosmos.”
“Brother!” Vedouin cried.
“What? It's fine, it's already happened in his timeline, so who cares? Suffice it to say that godhood, apparently, wasn't all it was chalked up to be. Discovering an origin element is a great achievement, but it's not necessarily a good one. He lost all his magic just by knowing this information, and now he's nothing but a very powerful avatar of darkness. If, by chance, you read that book and somehow brought your dull human tainted mind into connecting the dots, the same would happen to you. Except, presumably, you'd become an avatar of fire. There are other things in there, too. But that's the worst. Might even become a lich, I'm not really sure. We've all read it, but we have no spira to sacrifice to his rituals, so it cannot harm us. We are living beings, albeit artificial ones. Constructs of pure mana. Similar to you nim, really, but on the other end of the spectrum – and we require no biological host.”
“That's... Uh... He became a god?” Tyr asked, scarcely able to believe such a wild claim. This conversation had escalated far to quickly. “Isn't Sanguinar the name of a god?” There were stories about it, mortals ascending, but stories were often just... Well, stories. Nothing remained to verify them as fact.
“You know...” Sanguinar sighed again. “Gods, celestials, nature spirits. Whatever name people want to give to extra dimensional void monsters that prey upon the mortal realms. Feast on the thoughts and predilections of conscious beings. Last we heard, he was being chased around by Valkyrja. What's left of her, at least.”
“Valkyrja?” Tyr asked.
“She's like... The actual death god.” Vedouin turned to his brother.
“She's the aspect of death itself. I'm not sure if the term of 'god' is necessary. Like all high ones, she doesn't rely on worship. I'd rather not talk about her, though. She's uh...” Sanguinar exhaled with a shuddering breath. “Very terrifying. The type to gift us souls just to kill us shortly thereafter and torment us for eternity. And then tell us that she did it because she loves us. Gods, or however you'd like to call them, are extremely cruel. Avoid them at all costs. You cannot unring a bell.”
“Wow.” Telbid nodded in appreciation. “That is very wise. Did you come up with that all by yourself?”
“Nope.” Sanguinar answered, still looking at Tyr.
“I don't know, Thanatos seemed nice, a little sketchy but what can you do?” Tyr said with a shrug. “The others, though... They certainly didn't help me when I needed them, so fuck 'em.”
“Ah, the shepherd. I've heard good things, but we haven't had the pleasure. Gods can't see us either, though. Don't worry, you're not a vampyre.” Vedouin laughed. “Well... Obviously, since you have spira and all. Funny though, that you'd call a god of darkness 'nice'. It's really too bad most of the others were all slaughtered during... Fine, I get it, I'm not allowed to reveal cosmic secrets. Anyways, they were a fun bunch. Some of them... Altrimar doesn't really count because as said, he's really just an extremely powerful elemental now. Imagine existing in a loop where everything you touch turns to dust, you know? Don't read the book. Understand?”
“Yes.” Tyr replied. “That makes sense, but... I'd like to leave now if that's okay.”
“Really?” Vedouin asked, his tone betraying his disappointment. “You could stay? For a little while! I mean, come on, we obviously can't feed on your without melting. You have no idea how boring it gets up here!”
“Actually, this is a great time to ask – eh?” Telbid laughed. “Can we leave?”
“I don't care what you do...” Tyr frowned. “Sure, you can leave. Why would that concern me?”
“Will you give it a rest? Alright, fine. Just walk through the doors and pick your prize so that we might return to our rest. Nice meeting you...” Sanguinar coughed, but something was off with his face – like he was incredibly excited and could barely hold it in. “Again... I'll give you an S for your participating. Nothing matters, take what you want from the vault.”
“Again?” Tyr wanted to ask, but before the first syllable has left his lips he was already gone.
Vedouin came to the point of spitting blood. Looking at the scorched circle of earth the boy had come from, staring at his brother. “...An S? Is that wise?”
“What?” Sanguinar shrugged. “He did fine. He completed every task without complaining. That's got to count for something.”
“An S was a bit much.” Telbid sagged. “What if he takes that?”
“Oh.” Sanguinar considered the possibility with an appraising nod. “Okay. Administrator, ensure that all dao treasures and transcendent or higher class artifacts are removed from the selection. Please also remove the copy of the Arcanum Altrimar from his dimensional ring. Exchange it with... Two additional rewards of his choosing?”
Sanguinar assumed the administrator had already thought to do it, but he'd never trusted the machine.
“Understood! I cannot wait for the day that judgment comes for you foul creatures and you are sent hurtling into a burning abyss for all eternity!” She was like that. Always. For a thousand years the voice in the walls had never changed. But they were here. In this place, serving as the face of its one time 'masters' at the behest of the nephilim who had locked them in here. A dimensional anchor and containment facility to prevent their own frail world for falling into ruin. Using them like living batteries...
“Gods, but she's annoying.” Sanguinar groaned. This time, neither Vedouin nor Telbid could disagree.
“Wait...” Vedouin frowned. “He said we're allowed to leave, right? Doesn't that mean...”