Bee stood in Jhedothar’s throneroom, transfixed by the vast trunk-like columns that reached up towards the darkness above. Alight by the pale electric lamps, each column was a monument to war, their surfaces sculpted with immense detail to depict battles long past. Mutant warriors clashed against each other, their grotesque forms frozen in eternal combat, whilst war machines and mechanised dragons soared overhead. For an instant, the scent of the glassy, ashen earth of the wastelands touched Bee’s nose with the metallic tang of blood as she imagined a history heavy with strife.
As the throne room emptied of its attendants, Jhedothar left to speak to his soldiers about the presence of the Eidolon in Cruiros. The sound of his shelled centaurian body stomping against the cold, stony floor receded, replaced by the hushed whispers of those who remained behind. Bee’s gaze lingered on one particular column, her eyes tracing the intricate carvings of the monstrous battle scene. She did not notice Toshtta, Yonmar Free, and Slashex approaching until they were almost upon her.
“Ah, you find these fascinating too?” Yonmar Free asked, smile lines around his eyes, which peered from behind his aged and craggy mask, as he observed Bee’s interest in the columns.
Toshtta stood clad in her golden armour with her weapons in hand. Her visor was transfixed upon the newest arrival, the mechatronic Slashex, who seemed to rely on the clicking, hissing echolocation device embedded in his skull to discern exactly what they were looking at.
“These pillars are a testament to the struggles our peoples have faced throughout the ages,” Yonmar continued.
Bee’s wings twitched involuntarily as she looked at the immense height of the columns. The sensation of the intakes of her air-breathing flutes, feeding her biomechanical engines, felt smothered by her gown. She tried to ignore it.
“Who are they?” Bee asked. “And why are they fighting?”
Yonmar Free took a deep breath, his chest rising beneath his simple robes before he began to explain, “These battles were fought long ago, when our ancestors first rose up against those who sought to rule them. Each column tells a story of conflict and triumph, of bloodshed and sacrifice.” His voice was tinged with sorrow as if the weight of history bore down upon him. Sorrow and regret, Bee noticed.
“The pillars themselves were likely erected by the first holder of Ymmngorad, before the realm of Cruiros was carved out beneath it,” Yonmar Free noted. “It may even have been made by those who saw the ancient battlefields with their own eyes.”
“Remembering our struggles brings us strength,” Slashex added as an aside, though something seemed to amuse him as he tipped his head towards the stone.
Bee glanced from them and found herself staring at the carved battle again. She was entranced by the chaos and violence that seemed to come alive beneath her fingertips. The groans of the dying and the clash of steel echoed in her mind as she traced the outline of a fallen warrior.
“Yonmar,” Bee said hesitantly, “What led to this battle? What did they fight for?”
Yonmar Free leaned closer, his eyes scanning the intricate details of the column. “This scene depicts the fall of the Axiamat, the once-great City that defied holy strictures by reaching to claim the stars for itself. It was besieged and, ultimately, destroyed by an alliance that would go on to become the first noble lineages of Acetyn.” He paused, lost in thought. “The victors won control over the Cities, ensuring their rule for generations to come.”
Bee frowned. “Are we not entitled to the stars?” She asked, remembering the words of her mother so long ago now. “Are we not supposed to return to them?”
Yonmar faltered at that question. Bee looked at him, hearing Toshtta stir behind her and then noticing that Slashex was suddenly very focused on her.
“That was forbidden, a long time ago,” Yonmar said with a nervous, apologetic tone that Bee thought was quite unlike him.
But before she knew it, Bee was focused on the monument again, her eyes widening as she began to understand the importance of the scene rendered in detail before her. Then something else caught her attention. She pointed to a small, arrowhead-like shape hovering above the carnage. “What is that?” She asked, curiosity filling her voice.
“Ah,” Yonmar replied, a hint of relief colouring his tone. “That is the Genekeeper — a mythical machine said to have lived a thousand years ago. Legends say it had the power to manipulate moonlight and was sent to read the genes of all living beings.”
Something about that made Bee shudder. She remembered Acetyn’s warning, including that word: Genekeeper. Her fingers grazed the cold, unyielding stone of the carved arrowhead, having recognised similar sculptures in the depths beneath Cruiros. Were they made by Acetyn itself or the inhabitants of an even older realm, forgotten beneath this place? In her mind’s eye, she saw the Genekeeper soaring through the air, casting its dark influence upon the world below.
“Was it on our side or theirs?” Bee asked quietly.
Yonmar paused. When he didn’t answer immediately, Bee looked at him.
“Ours, I suppose,” Yonmar eventually relented an answer.
Bee nodded at that, recognising more than just the words but the implication there. Her thoughts swirled with half-imagined answers to mysteries she couldn’t quite articulate. For some reason, she felt a connection to these warriors.
“The first nobles found the strength to carve these domains inside the Cities where people could survive. No longer merely consigned to living in their shadows and in the wastes,” Yonmar said quietly, his voice breaking through Bee’s reverie. “Such is the legacy of our ancestors. A reminder that even in the darkest times, there is always something worth fighting for.”
Slowly, she stepped around the pillar, examining its design from a new vantage. An eerie silence pressed down upon Bee as she found a larger arrowhead shape with her eyes. It was different, and not just larger on the pillar, but etched with many-fold details that suggested a true behemoth expanse to its size. The shadowy shape seemed to look over the battlefield, casting an oppressive aura over kneeling, fallen warriors and even the smaller arrowhead of the Genekeeper. She bit her lip, pointing to the enigmatic design before asking, “What about this one?”
Yonmar Free leaned in closer, his brow furrowing as he studied the larger render. “I must admit, I assumed walking past that it was another depiction of the Genekeeper. But here, it is clearly seperate. I’ve never noticed that before,” he said, eyes narrowing beneath his mask. “I don’t know what it could be.”
Slashex, who had been quietly observing the exchange, finally gave an answer. “That is likely the Aviastis Fundament, otherwise known as the Immortal’s Garden. Fascinating. If only I had the opportunity to study Ymmngorad sooner.”
His words sent a shudder through Yonmar Free, who stared at the images, shock evident as it rippled through him. Toshtta’s silent vigil was interrupted as well, her helm and maile rattling as her gaze snapped towards the scene.
“Immortal’s... demesne?” Bee repeated, her voice barely a whisper as she noted their reactions. “But what does that mean? And why is it flying?”
“An interesting question,” Slashex said, his tone nonchalant. “And an indicator that perhaps we should begin our lessons sooner rather than later.”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Bee’s heart began to race as she considered the implications of the mysterious machine — or not just a machine: a garden. A domain? A home? — hovering above the ancient battlefield. She glanced between Yonmar Free, Toshtta, and Slashex, their expressions and posture ranging from shock to intrigue. She wanted to press further, but the moment seemed to have passed. Slashex seemed to know more than he revealed, and he was inviting her to teach her properly.
“Alright,” Bee said finally, swallowing her curiosity for now. “Can we begin the lessons?”
Slashex seemed to think about that, his mechanical lungs wheezing before he answered. “Perhaps there is something we can start with.”
And as they turned to leave the throne room, Bee couldn’t help but cast one last look at the Aviastis Fundament, the Immortal’s Garden. Now that she had seen it, she realised it hung above not just the depictions of battle but from the perspective of an approaching petitioner, the throne of Ymmngorad itself.
Before long, Toshtta led them into a secretive back chamber in the noble residences. The dim, flickering light of guttering candles cast dancing shadows on the twisted architecture of the chamber they now occupied. The walls pulsed with a life of their own as if the very veins of Ymmngorad itself were exposed in some grotesque display. Bee had been given a smaller throne to sit on, a seat that was intricately carved from a marble-like flesh and cushioned softly. Its bowled seat was reminiscent of a pelvic girdle, and vines from the distant but ever-present Rose of Thorns crept up its legs. Bee had to force herself to focus on the task at hand. Still, nerves made her ache to fill the silence.
“Yonmar, Toshtta,” Bee began, uneasy. “What do you think about Jhedothar’s proposal? Betrothal?”
The room had plenty of seats for them all, and yet they demurred to stand as Bee was seated. Toshtta’s helmet turned from Slashex, who seemed lost in thought, seemingly consulting the depths of his digital mind before the lesson. “Your Ladyship, a strong alliance can only serve us well,” she said cautiously, her voice low and measured. “We are beset on all sides by enemies. It makes simple sense to consolidate all power at our disposal, whether political or material. The Vat-Mother, the Wire-Witch, the Pilgrim... all pose a threat to us. Together, we may have the strength we need to withstand their tyranny.”
Yomnar nodded in agreement before steepling his hands. His weathered mask betrayed concern in his eyes. “Jhedothar’s position holds merit. We must tread cautiously. Indeed, we must be pragmatic... Your marriage could bring much-needed stability and protection to this region.”
Bee bit her lip, considering their words. She had her doubts — of course, she did. How could she not? And she didn’t know who this Pilgrim was, but she put aside that question for now. Her dark eyes turned to Slashex, who was still dwelling in silence, before she asked him, “What do you think?”
“You are being used by these freaks,” Slashex said, which earned him a glance from both Toshtta and Yonmar. “Each have their own motivations. So be it. But, in time, you will be above their concerns.”
Toshtta stirred, gauntlet gripped tight on her lance. Bee’s eyes locked onto that gesture. Would she truly attack Slashex? Bee suspected not without a real reason. She couldn’t deny his enigmatic presence was both intriguing and unsettling, though. He was not aligned with the forces of Ymmngorad at all, despite his being allowed to remain here.
“Alright,” Bee said after considering this. “Thank you for your counsel.” A frown touched her lips at those words. It seemed strange to talk like that, but it was starting to feel expected of her. “Can we begin?”
“Very well,” Slashex said as Bee fought to maintain her composure. When he continued, it was with a sly smile and carefully chosen words. “I will impart upon you the spells and daemonry necessary to harness the power that lies dormant within you.”
Bee’s dark eyes widened. Toshtta’s gaze never wavered from Slashex as she moved to stand behind Bee, providing an unspoken reassurance. Yonmar took up a position near the door, his watchful eyes never straying far from the young vat-born woman. The air in the chamber seemed to charge with anticipation as Slashex stepped forward.
Despite her every intention, Bee found herself shrinking back in her seat as Slashex approached, raising a mechanised hand, one wrought of a thousand pieces of scavenged star metal, not unlike the remnants Bee had glanced upon countless times in the glass deserts beyond the City.
“Focus,” Slashex admonished, his artificial voice cutting into her fright. “Allow yourself to be guided by my words, and trust in your own strength.”
Bee nodded as his hand outstretched to her crown, her eyes locked on Slashex’s face as he drew close. She tried to steel herself to face the unknown when the worm crept to life and spoke in her ear.
“Don’t let him, Sweetheart.” As the worm squirmed, her belly filled with liquid fright. “Don’t let him touch us.”
“Wait—” Bee seized in fright, then leapt in her seat from sitting to crouching as far back as she could against its stepped back. “Wait— please.”
Slashex paused, seeing Bee practically squirm with fear. He retracted his steely limb slowly, frowning.
“Can’t we talk about it first?” Bee pleaded. “What do you mean?”
His arm suddenly resembled a blade in the dim candlelight. Bee had to look away.
“Very well,” Slashex began, clearly irritated by her mercurial mood. “Tell me, Bee, what do you know about your neural lace? What do you know about your digital mindscape?”
“Neural... lace?” Bee stammered. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“And your mindscape?” He probed further, the clicking of the echolocation device embedded into his skull punctuating his words.
“I don’t really know anything about those things,” she admitted, folding her arms as best she could given her amputation, her left hand gripping her other elbow.
Slashex paused, considering her response. “Have you ever experienced an inkling of speaking with — or controlling — entities through strange means? Perhaps in a way that defies explanation?”
Bee hesitated, eyes turning as she thought back to the chaos of her life. “Well, I... I have spoken to the City of Acetyn,” she confessed.
“Impossible,” Toshtta gasped behind her.
“By all the roads to Paradise,” Yonmar similarly intoned.
But Bee didn’t sense doubt there. No. They both uttered those words with revelation in their voice.
Slashex’s blind gaze seemed to bore into Bee, a knowing smile crossing his lips. “Fascinating,” he mused but offered no further insight.
“Also,” Bee continued, emboldened by their reactions, “I think I’ve walked around... in a realm of dreams before. Or, it was like a dream, anyway. I saw things there. People talking, or... Existing in places far from here.”
“Ah,” Slashex said, his tone dark and cryptic. “The so-called ghost space.”
Bee’s heart skipped a beat as the others exchanged uneasy glances. A frisson of fear ground through her, mingling with sudden and intense anticipation.
Yet then the door to the chamber creaked open, casting a sliver of light across the darkened room. A twisted figure shuffled in, their malformed limbs betraying an unnatural gait. The messenger’s eyes darted nervously between the occupants before finally settling on Toshtta.
“Apologies for the interruption, Your Ladyship,” the messenger swept its body into a low bow in deference to Bee. “Toshtta the Blade, Lord Jhedothar summons you.”
Toshtta did not move from her position beside Bee, looming as she was over Slashex. “What is the reason for his summons?”
“Urgent matters,” the messenger said, shifting their weight from one misshapen foot to the other. “He insists that the Lady remains here to continue her lesson.”
Bee’s curiosity piqued. Why would Jhedothar want her here? What was he doing?
“Slashex, Yonmar,” Bee said, “I need to go with Toshtta.”
Slashex merely stepped aside, his many pneumatic limbs pumping as he yielded without comment. Yonmar hesitated, uncertainty clouding his gaze. “I’m not certain that’s wise, Bee.”
“Lord Jhedothar explicitly stated that the Lady must stay,” the messenger interjected, their tone pleading. “Please do not defy his wishes.”
“Enough,” Toshtta snapped, turning to face the creature. “You dare question the desires of the Lady of Sestchek? She will accompany me, as is her right.”
Bee couldn’t help but smile as the Blade supported her.
“Very well,” the messenger conceded, bowing its grotesque form again in another display of submission. “But do hurry then, Your Ladyship.”
Bee stood and hopped down to the floor, her plated feet rattling softly against the ground. She felt Yonmar’s worried gaze upon her. Still, her resolve remained as she hurried after Toshtta as the Blade strode towards the door. Slashex, too, followed them. His presence was uninvited, but none questioned him.
The old bone monk was last to move, and he sighed, casting one glance to the smaller throne that Bee had found purchase upon. Shaking his head, he muttered, “She shall break my heart yet, I fear it,” before he, too, hobbled after them.