She stood alone under the scarlet clouds. The Dreadknight was gone, the Stormlich was gone, her sister was gone. All things were gone and Sulphina was alone. She threw rocks, sang and hummed, climbed hills, skipped through ponds, and called to the Sun for fireworks to make her smile. But she didn't smile. She didn’t want to get yelled at.
“Stop grinning!” shouted Kari.
“Why?” asked Yuluru. “She’s a little girl. Little girls liked to smile. And you never stop smiling, Kari, except for when you’re screaming at someone.”
“She has no reason to smile right now,” Kari argued.
Then she stopped smiling, because it was true. She was trying to make them feel better, because they were all sad. Because of dad. Because he wouldn’t look up from the glass jewels in his hand.
Sulphina pointed to the great hall and made the question sign.
Kari signed back mockingly, telling her ‘Yes. “That’s right, brat. Do you see any of us grinning like fools? We, who love our father, are too worried to laugh and...”
“Daughters!” he boomed. “She is not a doll to be played with.”
The memory was faint, but her mind of Might could reach beyond the limits of her Mortal shell. Kari was rolling her over the grass, laughing. It was the first time she smiled to Sulphina, so she smiled too. Yuluru joined, and Phosphora watched, and it was fun when they rolled her back and forth. But then Kari rolled her to the edge of the mountain. She wanted to cry, but Kari told her to stop.
“Are you Mighty?” Kari said. “Are you one of us? Then a little tumble won’t hurt you.” And she rolled her over the edge. It hurt, but she survived. She remembered watching her father’s crown drop golden milk where her bones had broken through her skin, mending her little body and soothing her pain. Kari came down on the wind and carried her back up. She thought her sister may have felt sorry, but she put her on the ground and started to roll her again. Yuluru watched, afraid to say anything to Kari, but Phosphora glowed and blinded Kari, then started to shout. But dad shouted loudest.
“I’m making her strong,” Kari said.
Kari was strong. And she wanted to be like Kari. She wanted to be liked by Kari. So she tried to stand up, knowing that her heart yearned to fly. But she fell over, and Kari was going to roll her down the mountain again.
“Kari,” said dad, “give her to me.”
So Kari picked her up and handed her to dad. Kari burned her a little, though, just to be mean.
“She’ll never be as strong as us if you keep protecting her,” Kari said.
“She’ll never be as strong as us, Kari,” dad said back. Then he carried her to the castle where the golden man sat.
She threw rocks at other rocks. Little rocks at big rocks, big rocks that were round and tall. She found one that was darker than any other stone and had cinders glowing on its face, and a tall, bushy fern growing out of its crown. She threw rocks at it, singing and humming. The Dreadknight was gone, and she wanted him back. He was like her, alone. They could be friends, and then they wouldn’t be alone, and when her Mortal shell matured, they could be married and have children like Awondo and Syl, children who could bridge the gap between Mortal and Mighty. Then no other children like Sulphina would have to be alone.
She tugged at her dress. She loved it, even if it was too small. She would try to tug it up, and her legs would be cold. Then she’d tug it down, and her chest would be cold. That was before the sky was on fire, though. And the phoenix birds and great red dragons made the air even hotter. Now she wanted to swim, but all the pools were steam.
“Kari!” yelled Phosphora.
Kari lifted Sulphina out of the water. “I’m teaching her!”.
“You’re hurting her!”
“I’m teaching her!”
“You’re the worst!” Phosphora was yelling at Yuluru now. “All you do is sit and stare. Don’t you every do anything but follow people around? Kari! Leave her alone!”
And Kari tossed Sulphina in the air and left, boiling the water away so no one could swim.
She crawled on the rock that looked like Othomo and fell asleep. She’d seen him in her dreams, saw him young like a boy, chasing his mother and father with Night. Sulphina would have played with him if she’d been there. She wished she could go to Etherium and float among its soft, moony spaces. But she knew she wouldn’t want to stay, because Tartary was beautiful. She loved its different colored skies and the wild creatures who lived there. And she loved the dustfolk, the grassfolk, the beastfolk, the stone pygmies, the mud lurkers and the pointy eared tree dwellers and the black skinned fairies who lived under the ground. She knew that she would have tremendous fun in Etherium for a little while, then feel sad and come back down to Tartary where she could roll in the dirt and chase after worms.
“What’s wrong with you, Limo?!” shouted Agni and Estaphon.
“She likes it,” said Limo, dangling a worm over her mouth.
“She doesn’t eat worms, silly,” said Syl.
She liked Syl, and she liked Limo. He made her laugh when he’d fall apart. Before that one night, of course. Then she stopped laughing. Because it wasn’t right to laugh when someone was crying, and she knew that it rained when Limo was sad.
“The sky is his heart,” Syl had explained.
So, whenever it rained, she went looking for Limo, and that’s when she found him sitting on a rock without his jaw. She went looking for it, and found it in a river, far away, washed down the current by the rain. So, she dove in the cold water and got it for him. Then they splashed around in the mud, playing with the worms that were crawling to the surface. He put one in his mouth and slurped it down, and she laughed so hard. Then he laughed too and his jaw fell off. She stopped laughing, and he looked like he would cry again, but instead he picked up his jaw and made really big chomping motions with it. The both laughed at that. Then he put it back on and ate another worm, and Sulphina thought it was funny, so he did it again and again, then tried to feed her one. And then his brothers yelled at him.
She woke up. Kari’s armies had all gone by, and she was feeling so hot it was hard to breath. Maybe now that the dragons and phoenixes had passed, she might find a stream to cool off in. She crawled off her rock and went looking for water. She found a stream but it was too hot. She found a pond and it was boiling. She found a lake and it scalded her. She found a river and thought that maybe it was moving too fast to be affected by her sister’s temper, but there were dead fish glowing like embers on the bank, so she stayed away.
“There’s no cool water,” said a voice.
He was tall and broad shouldered, and his skin looked very dark, but he was too far away for her to see his face. So she walked closer.
“I’ve been searching for over a day,” he said.
She had a very strange feeling about the man, but not a bad one. She was... confused. She sensed that he was very old, and knew a great many things, and she sensed that he was very worried about something. A dream came from his mind, for any who had eyes to see such things; she saw a hill with four small graves by four empty baskets. She heard a child crying in the distance and she blinked, bringing herself back to the sad man speaking to her. She walked closer to see if he was crying and...
She threw her arms around him, but then instantly recoiled. It wasn’t him. But how? It was him. But it wasn’t. It was only the body he used to wear, the one he’d wear when he played with her so he wouldn’t burn her skin. Someone else was wearing it now. Someone very sad. She hugged him again.
“You remind me of my daughter. Auroura, my youngest. She...”
She squeezed him tight. So many people were dying.
“My name is Oroboron. I’m from... beyond. I came here to help my children, but I was too late. All of them are dead. Except for my oldest son, and there’s nothing I can do to help him. His sisters used to sing to him and give him peace. And his brother was his companion when they ran away from home. But they’re all gone. My youngest son was killed by a warrior of fire, and my daughters all perished as Fiends. Even my poor, dear wife has died. She held open the heavens so I could pass through. I turned to hold them open for her, but the Forgelords called for them to close and she was cut in two. Her spirit now wanders alone in empty halls while her body floats severed on the high winds. Poor soul. She can’t even comfort herself.”
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Sulphina let a stream of tears loose, then wiped her face. The man wiped his own tears as well, then his brow.
“That’s a strange gown you have there. It looks like something my younger boy liked to wear.”
At that her eyes grew large. Hearing her heartbeat, the Sun shot golden like through Kari’s gloom and for an instant the child glowed. Oroboron’s face slowly softened with the realization.
“You’ve met my son? You’ve met Othomo? Is he...”
Sulphina nodded so quickly she nearly started a gust with her hair. Oroboron dropped to his knees and hugged Sulphina tightly.
“You precious creature! The Radiant Soul must have led me to you. Oh, thank you for existing and for giving me this news.”
And she laughed.
The man released her and stood, then wiped his brow again. “I’m not accustomed to this body. It's a hard life, you Mortals lead. What do you say we venture north to escape this heat?”
Forgetting that her sister’s forces were mustering in that very direction, Sulphina answered with a smile and skipped along beside him. She wanted to tell the man of his son, but she feared the looks her half-sisters and half-brothers gave her when she spoke. And this was Othomo’s father, whom she admired for being the Dreadknight’s dad, and also, she felt fondness for the form he wore, she spared his ears her oafish grunts and listened raptly as he told her of the little Dreadknight who ran around their starry house in his silly cape.
“The cape grew with him, you see. At first it was a stubborn little blob that hid in the corner, and Othomo thought it fun to chase. Then one day he caught it, and he cried. Yes, Othomo sheds tears. You wouldn’t think it to look at him. And was just a little shadow back then. But when he finaly caught hold of Night, he changed, though it took time to realize it. In his heart he was still that mischievous little shadow, but his melding with Night made him tall and strong, and his grew solid and cold, like iron. His mother worried awfully, knowing that people would fear him, and what it might do to his little heart to become an object of such terror. She was so proud of him when he formed the innanis to link with his brother.”
And the girl looked up Oroboron with the glance a dog gives its master at a new command, so he told her of Hadeon.
“He is chaos. Poor boy. He is our great love, and our great shame. We could never figure out why he shaped the way he did. My wife and I shared a common desire, and it was that singular will that brought us together. We saw each child form in a way that harmonized with our love of Genesis, so we trusted the Radiant Soul when our little storm cloud grew larger and wilder and wailed in unceasing pain. But he was born during the Whirlwind, so we blame Yannis for his tortured state. But the Radiant Soul is kind, and he gave Hadeon a place where he could be alone, serenaded by his sisters who pitied him so. I don’t suppose you’ve met any of my daughters? I searched for them, but Arun took my eyes.”
At that, Suplhina jolted. Were those the glass gems that made her father sad?
“They were lovely girls. I wish I could have spent more time with them. Families are the first casualties of war. Oh look! Someone has hollowed out a pocket of cool.”
Sulphina squinted through the waves of heat on the horizon. There was a patch of blue, and there, small but clear, was a cabin covered in snow, with a line of smoke rising from its chimney. A frozen pool sat cozily by, and a great white bird wheeled overhead. They went there, and as they came to the cabin, she was eager for the fire inside, and to taste the pungent broth that sent its aroma through the chimney. They went to the door and Oroboron knocked, eager to get the chilly girl indoors.
“I feel guilty now for bringing you here. But surely someone’s home. If only I had my eyes. Ah, I hear footsteps.”
The door creaked open and a small, hairless old man peeked through the crack. He didn’t speak, but sang a bumbling sort of song and gestured for them to come in. They followed him, though Sulphina felt hesitant. She also wished Ororoboron still had his eyes.
The old man disappeared up a spiraling staircase, leaving them alone. Sulphina stayed by the door, looking around at the lightless cabin. There was a glow to the place, but it was not the glow of light. Rather, the furniture gave its own shine, and the shine was dull and sleepy, making her tired. There was a settle on the far end of the room that seemed to beckon to her. She started walking toward it slowly, running her finger along the dusty mantles that lined the wall. She heard footsteps and the shine brightened. She turned to her left, and where there was at first only an old, cobwebbed bookcase, there were now two women dressed as maids. They had white hair and white skin, and their faces were identical. Oroboron seemed intrigued by their presence.
“Ah, winter lanterns. I remember when your kindred was first made. How remarkable to see two of you in one place.” He turned to look down to Sulphina and whispered “There’s only four of them in the whole world.”
Just then two more appeared to the right, flanking a chest with a tall, black mirror resting between a dozen unwound clocks.
Just then the old man came down the stairs and spoke, and it seemed he had two voices.
“This won’t do, ha-roo hoo-doo, this won’t work at all. You must not wear, na-hee no-hrer, the raiment of the Fall.”
He snapped his fingers, and all four of the winter lanterns herded Sulphina into a bed chamber.
The door to the room closed itself behind her, giving her a fright. She looked all around, searching for a crack or hole she might slip through if need be. Torn hangings drifted on a windless breeze like dried skin. There were tall, thin windows of stained glass that, like the dilapidated furniture, glowed of its own accord. No reds or blues shimmered from these windows, though. Their glow was a sickly green, like pus or vomit. Sulphina turned to the door, but two of the winter lanterns flanked it. The others were rummaging through a massive led chest at the foot of the ghostly bed, tossing clothes about the room at a speed that seemed unnatural to Materium. They spoke to each other, and it seemed their speech came from behind a closed door, and each word was twisted as it came out their mouths.
They finally agreed on an ancient brocade gown with designs of vines discarded in the days before Materium was formed. The lanterns surrounded her, three taking hold of her arms and waist while one tried to pry the thin glimmer of Genesis from her flesh. Night clung to her, and she fought them; stubbornly at first, then savagely. The lanterns glowed and began to sing, and their unity washed away to reveal the ugly corrosion that had taken them. Their plain faces masked on each a bloody mass of severed nerves held in bulbous shape by matted and greasy hair. Their eyes were lidless and half subsumed by their exposed inner flesh, and were so clouded that they were almost completely white.
Sulphina screamed.
The windows shattered and storm gales rushed inside to subdue her. The lanterns too had voices, and with the wind and their ululations overwhelmed Sulphina, who prone and defeated gave a whispered plea. Thin swords of white light pierced through the murk surrounded the cabin, breaching the darkness flooding in through broken windows and coming to a point on Sulphina’s brow. The girl then rose, and carried by shadowy feet spring out of Night. The twofold voice then spoke.
“Hod yesod, ye tilt ye rod to darkness and to death. Hru dodoo you wear the hue of Nature’s empty end.”
The lanterns wailed and fell back, then scrambled across the floor in search of places to hide.
The hairless old man had entered the room now, and as spoke Sulphina saw a second pair of lips and set of teeth moving inside his mouth.
“We will do this the hard way then.”
She felt an irresistible fatigue consuming her and drifted into a dream of being carried by a skeletal bird. She woke in darkness, so she felt around her, poking her fingers into a spongy mass that recoiled from her touch. She felt her waist and sighed with relief and the cold touch of Night. Then stood and felt for a wall. The touch of all things repulsed her, but she kept groping her way along until she heard a noise. There was the tail end of a dying whimper, and a squelching mixed with the occasional snap. She made no noise and crept silent along until she felt the telltale breeze of a long hallway and moved as quickly as she dared to the right.
Sounds followed her, and she could sense the floor, walls and ceiling of the hall quivering as she moved. Here and there she passed a room with that was lit somehow, and what she saw terrified her; bodies in heaps, covered in film, their vacuous lombs writhing incongruently.
She kept moving, keeping her head down and eyes forward. In time she became aware that she was being followed, and not just on the floor. Something was crawling on the walls and something else on the ceiling. A slippery object gripped her shoulder and she squeaked as she was turned about to the sight of four creatures; one on each surface and one hovering midair. She tried to turn but found herself gripped by a net of tendrils. The hall itself was alive and had betrayed her, holding her suspended for the torment of the inmates. They were ghastly, deformed and deranged, eyes mad with pleasure and tongues flapping with hunger. She struggled to free herself and called to the Sun, but her father’s crown was not allowed in this dark place. She thought fearfully that it likely could not even find her, and her little voice proved too frightened to scream. Even Night was subdued, and inch by inch the monsters crept closer, till a dart pierced the floating eye whose jowls were closest. It dropped dead, pus oozing onto the floor which drank it eagerly. Another dart sang and the creature on the ceiling fell in a heap. The others fled at the sound of heavy feet, and the tendrils from the hallway withdrew. Sulphina turned, expecting some worse terror to have claimed her, but all she saw was a tall, gangrel figure rounding a corner.
She followed cautiously, but quickly, as she did not want to get lost, and found the tall figure sitting morosely on the spongey ground. Its legs were crossed and its shoulders were slumped, and its head, too small for its long neck, body and limbs, stared listlessly downward. There was a single candle on the floor, giving her just enough light to see the creature’s posture. Wanting to know who or what had saved her, she crapt close enough to see its beastly face. The poor wretch had tears streaming down the empty pits of its eyes. She looked it up and down, trying to figure out if it was not one of the speaking folk, confused by its pointed ears and the strange way it seemed to have been stretched beyond its natural length. Its skin too was odd, a scaly coating of scar tissue.
She stood by it, scratching furiously at her arms and ankles where the tendrils had held her. Her gangrel protector did not look at her, but kept staring into nothing.
She thought this sad creature might be able to understand her words, but when she whispered her name, it seemed stricken, so she sat quietly on the floor and rested her head against its shoulder.