“Is this the Amalgam on the other side?” Spoke a grating a voice.
Pools of blood surrounded a humanoid, rock-like entity. The crystal shards that stuck out from his back sloshed with a red fluid as he stood atop a mountain of deceased White Midnight bodies.
“I am positioned nearby the Second Tower.” Abadona the Destroyer announced as he gazed out from a castle balcony. “Awaiting the destruction of the Heart.”
Before him stood a black-bricked tower that emanated a green glow. Surrounding its lands and infecting all life like a disease were the flesh of the Crimson Hunger. It travelled into the wall of mangroves that divided the Great Wetlands from Grandis.
“A sorrowful display of misery has befallen this part of the world. The Tower is in an excellent position to defend. When you are ready, I shall fulfill my duties to the Nexus.”
Abadona considered himself either lucky or declared it as fate that he was matched against the Crimson Hunger. The reason for this was because of his purely inorganic biological makeup – if one could even call it that to begin with.
As a result, the slashes, fangs, and disease of the Crimson Hunger were ineffective against him.
Though that would have to be tested when it became time to defend the Towers from residual Impuritas; as would the other level 200 Exalted.
Meanwhile, Lunaria – the Founding Moon – bathed in a volcanic pool like it was merely a lukewarm spring. She gazed up at the blue light above the Third Tower just beyond a field of rolling, dead hills. Giant mosquitoes tried to siphon her blood, only for her to snap their proboscis when they came close and stored countless within her Dimensional Storage.
This was due to their proximity to the Great Wetlands.
“Lunaria has her eyes on the blue light of the Sect of Gears. She is certain that Clockwork puppets are playing there on a stage. A part of her also thinks that they are waiting, uncertain, or have sensed that there is something awry. For now, she says that is best that they all stay as audience members, before they can take the mantle and perform a character assassination.”
She began counting the number of proboscises she had stolen.
“Lunaria will not miss. So long as Lunaria speaks in third person, they can never know what Lunaria is thinking. They know her name, but not Lunaria’s own actions – because she is her own narrator in this story.”
Lunaria had a past intertwined with the Sect of Gears, and broadly with Act X.
A Moon’s role was to, after all, fight the Corrupted.
But Lunaria went against the very role she had created.
“Strings and Gears. Lunaria hates both. Better to nail a person down than to puppet them or turn them into Gears, she declares with delight.”
Lunaria suddenly pulled out a wooden mallet more than twice her size, and with a single swing, she sent a hailstorm of nails into the world. Each nail skewered at least three giant mosquitoes to rocks and trees, giving her more ‘Nails’.
“Everything is a nail to a hammer. To them, Lunaria knows that people are just cogs and strings to the mechanism of fate. The Amalgam is like a hammer.”
Lunaria removed the nails from the ground with an expressionless stare, her bare, naked body enraptured by the light of the setting sun.
“They can remove cursed stigmas like Lunaria. Dimensional Storage works until twenty kilometers away from the Tower. Afterwards, Lunaria cannot access her arsenal…”
Then, she turned towards the nearly setting sun with her giant mallet resting on her shoulder.
“… Perigean Night is almost here.”
* * *
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Further north was Devoid, the Microscopium. He had only just arrived in the vicinity of the 4th Tower, and he immediately alerted the Amalgam of the presence of surface catacombs, mausoleums of significant political figures of the Bellum Empire, and crypts.
The Memento Mori’s Hearts revolved around places of the dead, beginning from a tomb (Dungeon), a Crypt (Infection), Mausoleum (Plague), Catacombs (Complex Heart), to a Necropolis (Heart of the City). Due to the sheer numbers of Catacombs present, Devoid soundly concluded that a Heart of the City was present – a Necropolis of the Memento Mori.
“They are not as covert as the last Impuritas Group. The Heart takes the form of a Phylactery in specific texts. But to simplify it for your sake, Amalgam – it is a Memento of their Heart. Beings created by a Necropolis have Memento of their own that must be destroyed to truly perish, as that is what stores their Memoria; their Nex.”
Nex and memories of events and the fallen could also be taken from burial grounds, although those were less powerful and could only be used. Keepsakes with a higher sentimental value, or those with profound memories of a loved one, could be used as a method to bring them back as a puppet of the Memento Mori.
Devoid watched from the shadows. A barren land teeming with Undead beasts, from skeletal wolves or herds of rotting deer unfolded before him. The tower glowed with a purple light, with a shade of green that he assumed belonged to the power of the amplification Gift of the Bellum Empire.
One had to wonder what the source of this Necropolis’ Memento was.
Or maybe not.
To Devoid, what was held with such reverence to the Memento Mori was but a wasted thought.
“All things must end.” He recited to himself. “Mementos are meant as a reminder of precious memories and those held dearest to our hearts. Why taint them by trying to bring back an imitation of what was, and what will never be?”
Teardrop – the Sight For Sorrow – was the last of the Exalted to arrive at his designated tower, although he was still a way off. He could see the circus tents and the exotic, golden lights of a distant festival. Were his head-like eye any smaller, then he would have mistaken it for a guiding star or a second sun.
Tears instinctively began to drip from his eyes, coating the arid, cracked ground that he walked. In each reflection of his tears were visions of misery; of people who shed tears in the direction of where he cast his gaze.
“Of those who cry.”
His purple irises pulsated, and his pale scale reddened with sorrow. He brought his hands together and cusped a pool of running tears, seeing the faces of faceless humanoid monsters.
“And of those who create the tears.”
They wore golden suits, clown outfits, and a permanent smile that ran from ear to ear, covering more than half of their faces.
His ability allowed him to see those who shed tears, and those who brought them to tears. In a world where Justica Arms could reliably determine the guilty from the innocent, his powers were not needed. Furthermore, it was dangerous for one person to solely make such judgements.
This was why he was shelved away, as were most other level 200 Exalted who could no longer contribute to the Nexus. But with the arrival of the Amalgam, his abilities were retrofitted to allow him to see the world from the heights of the Nexus.
“Eventually, it will be through the Floor of Civilization to retrieve the tears of those of our Nex Megalopolis. Carpalis’ traitors shine ever brightly like a star… I weep. Amalgam. I am nearing the 5th Tower through a deluge of tears. A city mocking the happiness of hope blinds all light. It’s brightness to I with no lids, brings me to tears.”
Teardrop lamented, freezing his tears into crystal shards containing a snapshot of their unhappiest moment. The larger the crystal was, the more suffering was associated with their tears.
They followed him like pebbles skipping on a silent lake.
“A star of such luminosity and proximity can only bring tears. That is why they must remain far away. Amalgam. You are approaching a Gift of a Star. I have some advice for you.”
He stared into the sun, unaffected by its luminous rays of light.
“Gifts from the Stars can distort reality to their whims like gravitational wells. You may experience abnormalities the closer you approach this Kingdom’s Gift. It may only be a small, insignificant piece of a Star in that Palace. But it is still something that ultimately belongs to a Star.”
“I’m curious now that you’ve brought this up. Why do the Exalted know more about the Stars than the Beholders?”
“We have a long history of acting for the Nexus, rather than for personal gains. We are nothing like the Beholders who carry Gifts that corrode them. As such, we are onlookers that have seen events that they often turn their eyes away from. Devoid for example, saw a sight akin to the visions one may see if they peer out to the horizon past our shores beneath our world.
But your claim is also incorrect. Many of us know little about the Stars. I have only seen people who have shed tears because of a Star. Carpalis; I have seen a glimpse of the Star the Faustian Bargain is derived from…
… That is why I am offering a warning before you approach that Gift. It will not be tamed like the Warped Stone or the Dimensional Lock. What will likely reside there is a core, raw piece of a Star; a mere Glimmer of something greater.”
“Will it be different from Galia’s raw piece of the Warped Stone?”
“Very much so. Vastly different from what the Beholders possess, and inferior in every way. Truth be told, what you and many of us have seen are ‘products’ of their Gifts. You have not seen one outside of those in the Nexus, and the ones attached to a Beholder…
… I weep for you, Amalgam.”