He killed me.
He killed me and tore me apart. Tore me apart just to put me back together again. Made me into a monster… Made me into this. A daemon walking the real. Haunting the City. Made me into everything I hate. Everything I fear. Made me into everything I never wanted to be.
My Goddess… my Bhaeryn, how can I ever come back from this? How can I ever be whole again?
Save me. Please, I beg you.
Please…
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CHAPTER 11: AND IT WILL BE JUSTICE
Slashex ascended the crumbling facade of Ymmngorad. His steely, pneumatic limbs clutched at the jagged outcroppings of bone and metal, pulling his patchwork form upward through the smoke and ash that choked the tower’s exterior. Below him, dying flames lashed and lapped at the base of the structure, a fiery barrier that had halted Toshtta, Cartaxa, and the rest of Jhedothar’s company. The air was thick with the acrid scent of burning flesh and the distant echoes of collapsing architecture.
The ascent was treacherous, but Slashex moved with the precision of a machine, his blind eyes shielded by the metal plate stapled over them. The clicking echolocation emanating from his skull guided him around the obstacles on his climb, each sound painting a vivid picture of his surroundings in his mind. His mechanical lungs wheezed rhythmically, a steady cadence that matched the hiss and pump of his limbs.
As he neared the upper reaches of the spire, the chaotic noise of the realm below faded, replaced by an otherworldly stillness. The veins, vines, and spurs of bone that choked the lower levels gave way to a gemstone glass that seemed apart from the City as he touched the spire. Slashex pulled himself over the final ledge and onto the bridge, his feet landing on the hard shell that reinforced the structure.
The chambers within the spire were a living tapestry of greens and reds, illuminated by a shaft of golden light that pierced through the ancient vaults above its central nave. Towering growths with abundant leaves stretched upward, their branches intertwining to form a natural canopy that swayed gently despite the lack of wind. Flowers of sanguine hue blossomed abundantly, their petals unfurling like delicate hands reaching for the light. The air was rich with the scent of earth and nectar, a fragrant balm that belied the turmoil engulfing the tower without.
Yet Slashex regarded the scene with a cool detachment, blind as he was to the beauty therein.
Bee stood at the heart of this sanctuary, her wings partially unfurled and glinting softly in the dappled light. Her gaze was fixed on Slashex’s approach, dismay plain in her eyes.
Beside her, the Eidolon sat upon an old pew with a leg up, her dozen glowing eyes observing Bee with an inscrutable expression. The blade in her hand was stained with the blood of those who had fallen in her path, yet she held it loosely as she wiped it down, as if the weight of her actions had finally settled upon her.
Slashex stepped closer, the soft clicks of his echolocation announcing his presence. As he entered the light, the remnants of his meat burnt under the intensity of that evil daystar. Yet he did not so much as flinch away. Bee had long ago heard his arrival, her eyes narrowing as she continued to watch him approach.
“Slashex,” she said tersely. “Where are the others?”
He inclined his head, the metal plate over his eyes catching the light. “I came to find you,” he replied, his mechanical lungs emitting a soft hiss with each word. “The others were delayed by the fires. It seems we have been granted a moment to speak.”
Bee crossed her arms, her gaze flicking between Slashex and the Eidolon. “If you’re here to convince me to leave, save your breath,” she said coldly.
“On the contrary,” Slashex replied, stepping closer. “I’m here to prepare you for what comes next.” He gestured vaguely toward the entrance. “Jhedothar and his forces will arrive soon. A confrontation is inevitable.”
Bee’s expression tightened. “Haven’t we done enough, already?”
Slashex nodded slowly. “Which is why there’s an ancient tradition that may prevent further bloodshed.” He paused, the faint whir of his mechanical parts filling the brief silence. “A duel.”
“A duel?” Bee repeated skeptically.
“It is an old custom,” Slashex explained, his tone measured. “Dating back to the Lord of Bone’s defeat of Lord Centric Hash. When conflicts threatened to consume entire realms, the strongest and most mighty would settle their enmities through single combat. The old ways demanded that the strong shelter the weak, and carve out the realms in the chaos of the City. It spared countless lives and upheld a sense of…”
“A sense of what?” Bee grimaced as she found herself listening closely to his every word.
“The Godhead,” he answered carefully. “Of course, these days every twisted chimera and mutant freak believes they are deserving of strength, so now even the children play warrior. You must set things right, once and for all.”
Bee glanced at the Eidolon, who remained silent, her eyes fixed on the distant doorway as if awaiting the arrival of her adversary.
“And you think they’d agree to this?” Bee asked doubtfully.
“Jhedothar values power and legacy,” Slashex replied, stepping around her with his many pumping limbs. “He wants to be seen as a God, himself. He may see this as an opportunity to assert his dominance without further depleting his forces. The Eidolon...” He trailed off, sparing her the briefest of glances. “She seems prepared for such an encounter.”
Bee felt a surge of conflicting emotions—anger, frustration, and worse. “Why should I?” she demanded. “Why should I help any of you? The Eidolon killed all those people. She left a trail of bodies, and for what? To free someone who was imprisoned for some reason I don’t even understand?”
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Slashex tilted his head as he stood back in front of her, the mechanical components of his neck whirring softly. “Your anger is justified,” he acknowledged. “But consider this: if the duel takes place, it may prevent the Eidolon from claiming even more lives. Isn’t that what you want?”
Bee clenched her fist, her nails digging into her palm. “I don’t know,” she admitted quietly. “I sort of understand why she did it. Seeing the Rose like this... it’s monstrous. And she said she thought they did the same to me.” Her gaze softened as she looked back at the sepulchral prison, where the Rose of Thorns was bound and tormented by her own geneworked body. “No one deserves this.”
The Eidolon shifted slightly, her cloak rustling. Though voiceless, her presence spoke volumes—a sentinel awaiting the inevitable. She met Bee’s eyes once more, and for a fleeting moment, an unspoken understanding passed between them.
“Time is short,” Slashex urged gently. “You have influence over Jhedothar, even though he denies it so. Perhaps you can persuade him to accept the duel.”
Bee laughed bitterly. “He just sees me as his thing, someone to give him a child...”
Slashex persisted, “Your voice carries weight. Use it.”
Yet Bee hesitated, her mind racing. Only after a long moment did she speak.
“Fine,” she conceded. “I’ll try.”
“Good,” Slashex said, a hint of satisfaction in his tone.
Bee eyed him warily. “Why are you so interested in helping?” she asked. “What’s in it for you?”
He smiled faintly, the expression not reaching his concealed eyes. “The price is one simply paid for you. Your ascent to power benefits me, little Bee,” he said cryptically.
Her eyes narrowed at what he said, some spark of recognition there. But before she could press further, distant shouts and the sounds of approaching footsteps echoed through the chamber. The foliage rustled as if in anticipation, leaves trembling despite the still air.
“They’re here,” Bee whispered.
The Eidolon stirred, her grip on her blade tightening ever so slightly. Yet she didn’t rise from her seated position, once more looking towards the godsborne.
Bee took a deep breath, steeling herself. “I need to meet them outside,” she said to Slashex. “Before they come in and...”
He nodded. “Go. I will remain here.”
She cast one last glance at the Eidolon. “Please,” she said softly. “No more killing if it can be helped.”
The Eidolon inclined her head almost imperceptibly, a gesture that could have been agreement or mere acknowledgement. Her alien visage made it impossible to tell.
Turning away, Bee hurried toward the entrance, the lush greenery parting before her as if guiding her path. The air grew heavier with each step, tension coiling in her stomach. The worm in her head was silent and, for now, satiated, having found her love again.
As Bee emerged from the spire’s shattered gateway, she saw them—Jhedothar and his entourage, their silhouettes cutting stark figures against the backdrop of the smoke rising from the tower below. Toshtta and the Blades of the Rose flanked him, their expressions unreadable beneath their helmets. Behind them, Cartaxa and the Axiamati soldiers waited cautiously, their weapons at the ready but lowered.
And that titan above watched them with a vested interest.
Jhedothar’s eyes narrowed as he spotted Bee. “There you are,” he called out, his voice battling the vast gulfs surrounding them. “What is the meaning of this?”
Bee stepped forward, holding up her hand in a placating gesture. “We need to talk,” she said firmly. “Before anyone does something they’ll regret.”
Jhedothar scoffed, his massive limbs stamping ominously as he advanced. “The Eidolon has overstepped,” he snarled. “That butcher will pay for her transgressions.”
“Wait,” Bee insisted, positioning herself between him and the entrance to the spire. “There’s a way to settle this.”
Jhedothar’s gaze flickered with annoyance. Yet he halted, bestial skull turning down at her with a scowl. “Out of my way, girl,” he growled. “This is above your station.”
“It’s not above my station. I’m the Vat-Mother of Sestchek’s daughter. I’m the Immortal’s grandchild. All those people at your back have trusted me!” she raised her voice. “So listen! Too many people have died already. If you fight her like this, she will just kill more of us.”
He hesitated, the muscles in his jaw tightening. “What are you proposing?”
“A duel,” Bee said, her voice steady. “You and the Eidolon. Settle this between yourselves, like the old ways. Don’t drag everyone else into this anymore.”
Murmurs rippled through the gathered soldiers. Toshtta exchanged a glance with the other Blades while Cartaxa’s expression remained stoic.
Jhedothar laughed harshly. “Look around you. Those days are long gone.”
“Are they?” Bee challenged. “Or have you just forgotten what it means to rule? To carve out a safe space here in the City. To protect people from the hounds, and worse… You told me that, remember?”
He glared at her, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “And if I refuse?”
“She kills you and anyone else you take in there, anyway. Then I pick up the pieces and this cycle of violence continues,” she answered, meeting Jhedothar’s glare and holding it. “More will die, and for what? Because you’re scared of her?”
He gripped his infamous ruby spear as he laughed, shouting back for all to hear. “I have defeated her before and I shall defeat her again.”
“Is it pride then?” Bee raised her voice in turn. “You have the chance to end this here and now. Set an example. Be a real Lord.”
Toshtta stepped forward cautiously. “Your Lordship,” she interjected respectfully. “Perhaps the Lady has a point.”
He shot her a sharp look but didn’t immediately dismiss the idea. The bridge fell into a tense silence as he weighed his options.
Bee glanced upwards, just for an instant. The City watched her closely, indeed. Countless thousands of tons of that colossal entity peered down upon her.
Finally, Jhedothar nodded curtly. “Very well,” he declared. “I accept the challenge. Let it be known that I did so out of mercy for my people.”
Bee suppressed a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” she said quietly.
Jhedothar’s gaze hardened. “But know this,” he warned. “When I defeat her and demonstrate my entitlement to Ymmngorad proper, you will fall in line. Your acts today will never be repeated.”
Bee stared at him. “I’ll tell her,” she said, her voice flat.
He stepped back, signalling his forces to hold their positions. “You have until the heart tolls,” he stated. “We shall meet here on this bridge, for all the City to witness.”
Bee nodded and turned to retreat back into the garden. As she walked away, she felt the weight of countless eyes upon her—the hopes and fears of those who may otherwise have to face the monster in the spire, whomst Bee seemed to have come to an understanding.
Reentering the verdant sanctuary, she found the Eidolon exactly where she had left her. Slashex remained off to the side, his presence unobtrusive yet undeniable.
“He’s agreed to the duel,” Bee said softly.
The Eidolon regarded her steadily, her myriad eyes seeming to consider Bee. The fallen dame inclined her head slightly, a silent acknowledgement.
“Will you accept?” Bee asked her tone almost pleading. “Please. Let’s end this without more death.”
The Eidolon paused, then sheathed her blood-stained blade in a deliberate motion. She placed a hand over her heart and bowed her head ever so slightly—a gesture of assent.
Relief washed over Bee. “Thank you,” she whispered. “He said we have until the heart tolls. Then we meet on the bridge.”
Behind her, Slashex shifted subtly, and Bee turned her attention back to him.
“It seems then that we haven’t long at all,” he murmured, advancing upon her again. “And so it is time that I bestowed upon you that gift too long denied. No more delays. It is time, Bee, to take your inheritance and learn of that which you are entitled...”