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Liminal Gospels
Prologue: Overture

Prologue: Overture

Starless night drapes over an endless ocean. Any disturbance from under the waves sends polychromatic ripples in the still water with lazy sloshes. One can traverse the waters simply by its surface but to go under is as easy as a determined stomp.

Immersion induces waves of hot and cold. Movement is swimming through a sea of loose Jello but mind the columns rising from the deep. They rest on cauliflower coral and jut up to gaze at the nearing surface. They glow as particles do: brightening thrums of color mesmerizing anything lucky enough to witness. Particles spew from hollow coral-like tips, most luminous when dancing around faster than the eye can follow.

All move up to kiss the surface before being swept away by the current, save for an innumerable few that drift down further into the dark.

A mass of particles makes its own light as coral mountains tower above, taking the columns’ glow with them. Orange light peaks from in-between shadowy mounds. The particles accelerate; they smash into each other like a lightning storm until it’s nothing but a fireworks show of all colors and shapes deep within the lifeless ocean. A hand’s silhouette attempts to form and breaks, tries again and again and again and finally holds. Nubs split from palms, stretching out and cracking as joints form. A humanoid creature crashes into the seabed, spewing sand and rocks up into the water. Their glow fades into a small mass of flesh and bones. Flesh dark and warm with a freckled face and waves of auburn hair spilling around her shoulders.

She blinks slowly before widening her hazel eyes as fist clench around sand. She shoots up and gasps when she feels the water’s resistance. After several tiny panicked breaths she takes a deep one, finding she can hold it indefinitely. She calls out. Small sound waves reverberate directly in front of her. Orange masses of light pop out of the sand and light a makeshift path. She stands, runs her hands over her body. Same body stilled wrapped in ripped, crimson clothes.

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She follows the lights to a cathedral of coral and stone. It stands out amongst the pitch seabed. Several stories high, taller than anything she’s ever seen on Earth, windowless with an arched void for a door. Smaller columns stand atop in dark shades of green. Few particles spew from them but their light casts a glowing haze. The orange lights fade into the entrance.

The water puts up little resistance. Her hair dances behind as she steps through the arch. The sand runs off inside to reveal stone floors, cold even through her shoes. Darkness envelops her for a time before the orange lights brighten like flickerless candles. At the end, a dark mass of matter blinking back at her with too many eyes to count, all opening and closing at their own accord. It floats closer. She stops, heels crunching into the sparse sand as she takes a step back. Its eyes look into her and blink slowly. Again. And again.

The eyes close a final time. It gurgles. She stumbles back. One, five, four appendages burst out. Fingertips and toes sculpt themselves, much more practiced than her transformation. Dull shades of black and brown emerge as cloth weaves around the form. It suddenly approaches wearing the same body and clothes as her. Shadows are where its head should be.

She calls out a simple “Hi.” Waves her hand. It produces open spectral hands. Rushing particles glow beneath the skin. With silent footfalls their hands reach out, brushes hers with a flurry of sparks. The two recoil and then clasp their palms together. She gasps. the surface touching back hums softly, bathing her in numbing warmth. Her fingers relax in-between its.

“Mirana,” they say from beyond the formless head with the voice of an ancient collective, striking her bones with fear and comfort, “took ya long enough.”

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