Agea let out a world shattering scream as she smashed the white hot metal with an enormous golden hammer. She was forging her fifth indestructible enchanted sword, her raw strength fusing with her creator will to the end of metallic perfection. After a few more minutes and a bath in the icy water barrel, the current masterwork was completed. It was a thin green blade complete with glowing gems of power and pearl encrusted pommel. Even the strongest of her people couldn’t break this blade if they tried. She tossed it with a frustrated sigh onto the pile of other masterworks. She didn’t even need to physically meld the metal with a hammer if she didn’t want to. But she had a wealth of frustration built up inside her that only physical expression could release. But her true task, to complete The Obscuring Helm, was deep in her mind, with the things she didn’t want to do. Like erasing the memory of Aris from existence. Her family were about to be worried, alerting their village, sending out search parties. They were about to have their world changed, as long as she didn’t leave.
“No No No!” Agea raged to no one.
She was in her Lightforge. It wasn’t really a place, as her people understood. It was a space within the constructs of her God’s mind. When Agea enters her forge, the outside realm of her and Traxilian’s creation, takes a break. She had spent some time here, uncountable years of self reflection and fear. Deep within her was the desire to create and to see that creation flourish; and she had done that. Many times. Currently! But this whole business of The Pact, of expungement, was a tricky thing. Ordinarily, she would go endless years without even considering it, but she had grown complacent.
Her creation, the society, had taken many forms in the endless years of her rule. She had opted for totalitarian rule sometimes, strictly providing for her people, as she always did of course, but a more scrutinizing look at her people's thoughts and doctrine that kept them in line through fear. She had no idea if some kind of afterlife existed, but she found it was an effective way to control those with a finite lifespan. Creating some kind of eternal punishment as an afterlife and a means of control was something she considered for a while, but she wrote it off as far too cruel. Who would follow her rule if she had the capacity to tell them something like that? The kind of society where her rule was never questioned also led to a kind of thought rot. Her people seemed less full of life when they were full of dogma and lacking individuality. In those moments, realizing her creation was stunted from too much control, she opted for a sort of “reset”, lifting the rules slowly over generations, changing dogma to the point where the people were no longer subservient in thought and action. She thought then that a non-interventionist style could work. It did, giving her some peace, but the nature of her people and their abilities led to petty feuds and wars that when she learned of the deaths, she could not have it.
Agea cursed herself for being so lazy and re-established control, leading her creation to where it is today. They had genuine influence on her decisions, and they loved her because they wanted to, not because they were forced. This, of course, had to all be taken with the noble lie into consideration.
Agea snapped out of the dredges of memory and looked over to where The Obscuring Helm hung in three parts on golden hooks in the corner of the Lightforge. Traxillian had not given her any issues in a very long time but she couldn't help worrying about his strict adherence to The Pact. He was obsessed with control. It was why he clung to his side so deeply, but she worried that he would someday decide to take what was hers, Pact be damned. But she knew, as she felt deep within herself, that breaking the Pact would have disastrous consequences on their shared consciousness, effectively dooming each of their respective creations and themselves. It was why she didn’t fear that Traxillian’s depravity would include a scheme to invade her world. She wondered strangely if her current plan to take Satra and her champions across the wall could be considered an invasion in the right frame of mind. And an even darker thought that maybe it's exactly what Traxillian wants her to do. But no. The expedition had been in her mind for a long time now.
She thought that it probably started the first time she saw Satra fight in the coliseum. Lady Firewood trained her with the blade and Satra’s Active, telepathic wind control, and her Persistent, a constant lack of friction with her surroundings, led to her being an unbelievable swordsman. She could cut circles around the veterans at sixteen years old. She remembered leaning forward, wine goblet in hand, as the young raven haired girl, wrapped in a headscarf, skating across the battlefield dispatching her opponents like she was a gardener trimming their beloved roses. Agea could tell, by accessing Satra’s mind, that it was easy for her. Agea knew that her ambitions would grow as she aged. And they would lead her over the wall. It was best to get ahead of that. She knew that the horrors they would witness on the other side would be traumatic but it would almost be a way for Agea to share her burden of the Pact without breaking it. The Obscuring Helm would keep Traxillian from knowing about it, despite the risk.
She strode over to the Obscuring Helm, strung up in three parts, and got to work. Fusing and finalizing the enchantments. It involved delving into her own mind and putting a delicate separation between the boundaries of her memories and Traxillian’s. In a burst of concentration and will. It was done. It was an elegant design with sloping wings and a battle ready visor. It was constructed with deep golds of an enormous variety into red phoenix feathers plumed at the comb. It was indestructible, of course, and provided a sort of protective aura against anything related to Traxillian. It would prevent him from knowing that she crossed the wall and give her an unbeatable edge against the monsters he has created. It would allow her to control the danger faced in the expedition so it was just enough to discourage any future desire to cross the wall. It would reinforce that the noble lie was her duty and hers alone to bear.
With renewed determination she walked over to the wide table with an enchanted map of Golden Bloom spread across it. She focused her attention on the small mountain village of Stoneborough, Aris’ home. The map zoomed so that the entirety of the table was an overhead view of the village. She drew up images of those that knew Aris. Her mother, father, brothers, friends, guardians, and even each and every person that had ever seen her. It had to be done, she delved deep into their temporarily frozen consciousnesses and erased the remembered existence of the little girl with enough power to make a Goddess obey her. The memories of her were gone, along with her physical possessions. Her little dresses and dolls vanished into dissipating light, her room transformed from a personalized space to a solemn guest room her mother insisted her father add to the house. With expungement, not only did Agea have to destroy beloved personal memories, but she had to construct completely alternate memories that explained the discrepancies in certain physical evidence that could point to the existence of the erased person. It was painful but she was now shifting her mind to the duty bound thought loop that had been keeping her going all these years.
It was cruel and tragically ironic in a cosmic sense, that her people were becoming too strong. She had stopped guiding the Shards of her power that her people wielded and over natural, magical change, their power was growing. To maintain The Pact, this needed to be curbed. She was the only one that needed to bear the grief of expungement, Aris’ family and friends would be ignorant to the potential pain they could be in. This was what needed to happen until she could develop some way to limit the growth in her people's power. In the meantime she would keep an eye out for any particularly powerful Actives or Persistants in the younger generations that could potentially pose a threat.
With the Obscuring Helm complete and the grim task of altering Aris’ loved ones memories finished. She decided to take a step further, and test the helm. She left The Lightforge in a burst of light and appeared in a blink atop The Separation Wall. Clad in brilliant ruby armor and a long cape. The clouds were billowing, all around the walkway above and below. The white fluffy clouds that perpetually hung over Golden Bloom mixed with the black storm clouds that tormented the denizens of Traxillian’s half of the world. She dissipated them with a booming shout that cut through the air like a titan's sword. With the clouds cleared, the barren wasted land of The Desolation Fields was laid bare before her. She hadn’t come to the wall in a long while, and the site still saddened her. Why, given the powers their shared body could command, did Traxillian do this? Black woodland pocked with large expanses of open dead plains and jutting mountains extended infinitely in all directions. There were carving rivers of rushing deadly rapids that sprayed white foam that she could see even from the top of the wall. She frowned, her vision narrowing and focusing on a specific shape, it was what looked like insect hives the size of a palace near one of the great river tributaries. In one simple motion she took a running leap and dove off the top of The Separation Wall. Air rippled wildly as the great rungs plunged past her in whirring blinding motion. The back of her ruby armor opened into a set of vibrant glittering wings. They were made from a metal of her own recent conjuration that was nearly lighter than air. She manipulated a controlled burst of wind under her wings and took to the air, surveying Traxillian’s domain with rising disgust. There were no grand cities, celebrating the wonder of intelligent, compassionate society. There were no vast cornucopias of replenishing food for all to enjoy. There was only the violence of nature and life desperate to survive. It was odd to see The Desolation Fields like this, from her own perspective. In all the eons she had only known it in her shared memories with Traxillian. Only from his warped sadistic mind in which the thrill of the hunt was all that mattered. To his mind, the endless natural hell of his creation was a beautiful place where the sacred ritual of death replayed over and over and over.
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It was sickening. The land itself filled Agea with a profound sadness she was not expecting. It redoubled when she flew closer and closer to the mega insect hives. She noticed frantic running figures, people, scrambling away from what looked like fire ants the size of gigantic horses. She frowned, hovering high in the air, as the desperate screams reached her ears. The wind whipped around her endlessly. Her fingers twitched and a golden blade with a twisted jewel encrusted hilt appeared instantly in them. If she was here to test the Obscuring Helm, then this would suffice.
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“Shit shit shit,” Sister Blood whispered to herself in between ragged breaths, robe rippling as she ran faster and faster. The creatures were everywhere, The Father’s fierceness knew no limits and his children were examples of that made flesh. Her mind warped with the memory of people screaming, mandibles clacking, great legs skittering. She saw Brother Leaf get ripped in half right in front of her.
It had been Brother Blade’s decision for the entirety of The Family to voyage to Father’s Wall, to see what lay beyond it. By the dead did she curse him now. That fool had tricked The Family into magical thinking, driving them from the safety of routine and into madness. The journey had started out difficult, with a raid of mad cannibals that Sister Blood barely escaped being captured by, followed by weeks of sickness that killed a dozen or more, and now they would all surely perish to those of Father’s children that share his prowess for dealing death. Her own fate was even more terrifying, her gift from Father granted her such healing that it meant it could be long hours before she was finally killed by these beasts.
Sister Blood dashed behind a boulder and down into a crevice, gasping for breath, her mop of curly dark hair plastered to her sweating face. She wondered, strangely, why her teachers had always told her that to be slain by The Father was the ultimate joy, but everyone always took the most precautions to hide from Father’s wrath. Her mind was ripped to the present when she heard pounding footsteps and desperate panicked yelping. A robed man tripped over a root and tumbled into the crevice of dirt she was hiding in. He landed on her with a thump and Sister Blood groaned in pain. He was gasping for breath too and jibbering madly with terror.
Sister Blood realized with mounting anger that it was Brother Blade that had found his way into her desperate hiding spot.
“You fool!” She shouted, pushing him off of her, “You got the whole Family killed, including us!”
“I…I…” He spluttered, “By Father’s own words, he commanded us to join him past his Wall!”
“In a dream you fucking idiot! I had a dream I could fly, but that doesn't mean I really can now can I?” She screamed, not caring if the raging insectile monsters found their hiding spot. She would heal, he wouldn’t. Her siblings' screams rang out into the air, shrieking, dying animal sounds endlessly bouncing off the black trees.
“Easy now, Sister, we need to hide and stay quiet,” Brother Blade whispered, his beady eyes darting nervously up the slope of the crevice.
“The Father has seen that I stay around to be vanquished by him alone, so let them come,” She laughed bitterly.
Brother Blade’s scarred face was overcome with a sudden rage, his eyes wide and bloodshot, “Be quiet you heathen, I am The Father’s chosen prophet and you will obey me,” he growled , a long gleaming blade extending slowly from his right forearm.
“You could stick me with that little needle for a hundred cycles and I’d still be left standing,” She roared at him.
In a flash he was rushing at her, surprisingly fast, he slashed across her face in a wild arc. The cut stung, and Sister Blood hissed, in mere moments the wound was already closing. She let out a shriek and rushed to meet him, lowering her head and tackling him to the mud. She raked across his face with one hand and pinned down his arm that the blade extended from. He screamed and the sight of the blood nearly made her giddy with anticipation. It was known, but not often talked about amongst The Family. That along with Father’s gifts there was something else. A cost. Something that hurt you, killed you, made you lose your mind or do things you wouldn’t normally do. They all had one. She sank her teeth deep into Brother Blade’s thick neck, blood welled in her mouth and she swallowed greedily. The cost of her life without permanent injury: The always building, always rising thirst for blood. Ecstasy cascaded through her and in that moment nothing else mattered. Not her dead friends or ruined way of life. All there was, all she ever needed, was sweet warm blood.
Brother Blade died in a twitching spasm. She let his body fall limp and started climbing out of the crevice, lips and chin and neck all stained with red. She was ready to accept her fate, to join her siblings in death at the hand of Father’s voracious swarming children. The creatures were everywhere, pouring around trees and skittering like a river of armored flesh. She saw a few desperate survivors of her once great family sat high in the trees, gripping the trunks ever so tightly as to not fall into the endless swarm.
She spread her arms wide, looking to the sky ready to be trampled and devoured over and over as The Father had devised for her end. Her eyes went wide. A figure descended from the sky, rocketing towards them from straight above. It looked like, no it couldn’t be, but yes it was. A winged woman in blood red metal armor appeared in the air above them. Then, the world exploded with light.
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Agea slashed once, twice, three times with her golden blade. Huge arcs of light exploded across the endless swarms of insects. They were obliterated, disintegrated, annihilated. Each slash wrought such devastation against the unholy creations of Traxillian that even she was slightly surprised. Their bodies were flattened and burned away to ash by the force of each blast. She saw where the people were hiding, in the trees and against rocks for cover, making sure to alter her slashes so they missed the poor cowering wretches. After a flurry of cuts that cleared most of the remaining main swarm away, she noticed a singular woman, standing alone, her hand covering her eyes, mouth covered in red blood. Agea landed hard, slamming her sword into the soft dirt, one last immense wave of energy exploding outwards. She controlled the wave in such a manner that only Traxillian’s insectile monstrosities would be destroyed and not his people.
The people stared at her for a long moment, and she thought about what a sight her power must be to these poor creatures. The woman with the bloody mouth fell to her knees and began chanting endless worship. She raved and raved and called Agea “The Great Mother.” Agea frowned, knowing that she could never take them with her to Golden Bloom, where they could be safe and warm and happy. They belonged to him. The Pact would never allow a true rescue effort in which Traxillian’s created victims became her wards to protect. She wondered drearily if this was all a great mistake. She realized that for her planned expedition over the wall she would need to alter the minds of her champions so that they didn’t see these people as the desperate wretches they were. They would have to view the whole land as wretched and full of alien monsters if her plan to discourage them was to succeed. That thought disturbed her and before the people got any closer she burst into the air, needing to head over The Separation Wall, back to Golden Bloom, back to her Lightforge, back to normalcy. She needed to think and more than that, she needed a drink.
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“Did you see her glory, dear brothers and sisters!” Sister Blood screamed with cascading glee.
“The Father is not the lone life bringing force that we have always been taught he is. The Great Mother is also watching over us. But unlike Father, she wants to help us! Oh what glory was her light, what glory was her beauty!”
The remaining survivors sat in the ashes that was once a swarm of hundreds of gigantic frenzied insects. Their robes flickered in the wind and their faces were dirty in the fading sunlight. They listened to Sister Blood’s words with elated smiles and nods of agreement and words of praise.
Sister Blood could swear that she was going mad. But she had not imagined the striking figure of The Great Mother. Long golden hair extending from a brilliant shining visored helmet, that fierce blood colored armor, her sword of burning power, her brilliant wings. She was unlike anyone or anything Sister Blood had ever seen. She was perfect.
“We must dedicate our days to being reunited with The Great Mother! Hiding from Father’s wrath as we were always meant to! We must know that she will find us and she will protect us again!” Sister Blood roared.
Her ash faced siblings roared back in approval and for the first time since this horrid journey began, she felt a warmth of happiness building steadily inside her. She looked at the dozen dirty adoring faces beaming hope towards her and realized with some horror, that Brother Blade must have been just as enchanted by the attention and obedience of The Family as she was feeling now. Even so, she smiled with red blood stained teeth.