Jevyenyerai the Great Wyrm, Vermiform Weaver of Flesh, paused in his work. This was unusual: deep beyond the bowels of the earth, in caverns where even ‘light and dark’ ceased to be, there was little to disturb his research into the creative potency of consumption, and aeonian epochs would pass in which he did nothing save contemplate the Great Work, needlelike claws clicking ceaselessly as he wove suits of flesh, his begotten grotesqueries arrayed like corpuscular stars in the night.
The object of his disturbance was even more unusual, for it was no great sage, descending into the fathomless pitch to gaze in awe upon the fire and the shadow, nor was it one of his own anathemata come to pay him a visit. It was a child. The small ragamuffin faced him with determination, ignoring the many wounds littered across his tiny, fragile body as he confronted the ageless abomination.
Jevyenyerai examined the boy - his red hair, his firm eyes, his taut frame - and nodded in approval.
Yep, he was adorable.
***
Caedes gazed at the behemoth before him, doing all in his power to keep his heart steady, and keep from fleeing. The entity towered over him, staring at him silently. Its skull-like head had only eight eyes, arranged in a row down its face, and a thin, fanged mouth. Thence followed a lengthy neck, affixed to a gaunt, bony body. Its flesh was pallid and wan, save for the batlike wings coming from its back, and its four or more arms had strange appendages, half claw, half knitting needle, with which it had been sewing a skin of flesh before his arrival. The skin’s hollow eye sockets seemed to gaze at Caedes, and he shivered.
Had it been merely this it would have been a moderate horror, but the end of its torso, where its legs should, was one solid band of flesh. This band stretched snakelike into the undark, where it branched off into rivers of skin and bone, a web of disjointed body parts framing the cavern in which the two stood. Hundred of hands hung from these, fingers frozen in the midst of crafting skins very like the one the creature held in its hands. The skinsuits fluttered in the air, even though there was no wind.
But Caedes couldn’t afford to back down now. In the fell libraries of Golodeyn the ghostly changeling Xunyocraoch had told him that Jevyenyerai had what he sought, and if he left now he risked never finding it. Firming his heart and keeping his tone respectful, he began to speak.
“Do I have the pleasure of addressing Jevyenyerai the Great Wyrm, Vermiform Weaver of Flesh?”
The monstrosity looked at him, its expression unfathomable. “You do.”
Caedes bowed, his head nearly reaching the floor. “I am Caedes. Long have I sought out your moo- munificence. I have read the ancient tomes and the walls of archaic tombs, and even in the most quiet of whispers scarce is your name mentioned. Yet in the dread Botanicon of Ittarn the Mad Elf was it mentioned that you have knowledge of the secrets of esoteric arboriculture, and upon a Stele in long-lost Dhzrak it is recorded that you know the method to create spiritual roots where none exist.”
Caedes threw himself on the floor, the very picture of wilful subservience. “This one’s friends have been slain, brutally and absurdly. Yet I cannot claim my revenge, for I have no spiritual roots with which to cultivate. I therefore ask your moon- munificence to grant me the technique upon which I can build a spiritual root, promising in return whatever is in my power to give.”
He phrased this last sentence carefully; there were some deeds too dastardly and disastrous to enact in the name of revenge, and however much strength he had he would never have the power to do those. He could only hope the thing had some mercy in its ancient heart, and wouldn’t ask him to sacrifice those he loved or murder the innocent. His heart beat faster as he waited for it to reply, its face still unreadable.
***
It took everything in Jevyenyerai’s power to keep his expression neutral throughout their conversation, and to avoid gushing over the boy. He was just the cutest little thing. His overly serious expression, the way he tried to enunciate each word as if delivering a formal speech. Jevyenyerai wanted to pet him.
Jevyenyerai considered the request. It was easy enough to fulfil - that would only bring the boy to immortality, and not beyond, so there was no real reason to decline or stipulate conditions (the archmonstrosity was a true teacher, and cared nothing for basing negotiations off the Other’s willingness to make concessions, when they were willing to learn). In fact he could do it himself in a matter of minutes.
But there was a problem.
If he simply gave the boy what he was looking for, he would go on his way, and none of the other horrors who dwelled beyond would get to experience his cuteness.
Was this the Way of the Sage? Certainly not - as the great immortal Zhu Xi observed, the sage was one who could connect with the will of all under heaven, and “allow everyone to feel a sense of plenitude in their hearts.”
Of course he couldn’t just send the boy to the other horrors - the regions and paths he’d have to travel were dangerous for a small child, and harming him would weigh on Jevyenyerai’s conscience.
The thing’s serpentine body coiled, rising into a sky that should not be as he deliberated what to do. At last the idea came to him, and not just any idea, but the perfect one.
***
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“I cannot give that to just anyone,” the twisting being asserted, and Caedes felt a spike of panic. Now was the moment. What hefty price would the creature demand?
“That is a work marvellous and transformative, and it would pain my heart were I to give it to any outside my family - what if they should use it to perpetuate deeds wicked and vile, or work evil upon the land?” The creature said, raising one curving claw into the night. Caedes’ panic returned - was it about to deny him his request?
“So obviously, if you want that, you must become my little brother.” It finished triumphantly. Caedes blinked.
“I… beg your pardon?”
“Become my little brother,” it said, its tone inscrutable. “Then I know you will treat that responsibly, and the other creatures who dwell beyond will know you for my family, and treat you with respect. And you will need to meet with them, for though I can give you that you must learn how to use it yourself.”
Caedes blinked once more. It seemed an unusually generous offer - he lost nothing, and benefited on both ends. Too generous, in fact.
“What are the responsibilities of being your brother, your majesty?” He said, tacking the honorific on in case the creature took his uncertainty as an offence.
“Oh, they’re very important,” it declared. “You always have to act with forethought, and moderation, and honour. Revile nothing, for even the lowest of refuse has its place.”
It finished speaking. Caedes bit his lip. The request made no sense, but was he in a position to refuse? Its requests were abnormal (who behaved with honour these days?), but hardly unacceptable. Slowly, hesitantly, he voiced his agreement.
For some reason, it patted him on the head after he did.
***
Jevyenyerai watched the boy skip out of the room, scroll in hand, and smiled. What a cute child. Then it turned back to the ancient columns and cracked floors of those aeonian depths, and rubbed his hands. He had work to do.
One of his tendrils extended, and the flesh of a man slowly emerged from its end. Muscles and ligatures spun out to cover bones, a thin skin forming on top, and the resultant human dragged himself to an old, dusty desk in the corner. There he uncapped an ink bottle and, dipping his calligraphy pen in the well, began to compose a letter.
Dear Jaq-Mahveyel…
***
Caedes struggled across the wastes of slate, the icy rain lashing against his skin. There was no sun, no moon, nor stars to guide his way, as he walked across a featureless landscape to the lonesome accompaniment of the clouds. There had been rocks, great boulders raised upright as if commemorating some ancient and long-forgotten battle, but those he had passed.
Ahead, far in the distance, he could see a forest of pillars. Beyond there, he knew, were the lonely halls under the rain, where dwelt the mistress of solitude, Jaq-Mahveyel.
It had taken him many weeks of toil and hardship to reach her abode, an abandoned and forgotten planet whose life had long since left for greener places. There, in the lonely halls under the rain, she dwelt. Her home was flooded, dirty water eddying slowly around piles of black rocks, and the few pillars remaining were in the midst of crumbling to pieces.
Atop a pile of stone, squatting as if on a throne, he saw her. Bow-legged, with arms the length of her body and rubbery, midnight blue skin, she stared at him from red eyes set over a crocodile’s snout. Her massive claws clacked as she shifted her weight.
“So, you’re finally here.”
***
Jaq-Mahveyel examined the boy carefully, once more impressed with Jevyenyerai’s ability to find all that was small and adorable. She knew that he was a brilliant philosopher of aesthetics - even Ct’oc’xogolbhullel, author of the famed Transcendental Considerations Upon The Smol, had conceded that Jevyenyerai’s Yaliang: Emotion and Enthusiasm in Aesthetic Metaphysics was a veritable masterwork, and the Doll had once admitted his debt to Jevyenyerai’s music theory. But still, seeing his brilliance in action always helped drive the point home. What a winsome child. She nodded as the boy finished his careful recounting of his journey and his need for revenge, listening to his plea.
“I cannot tell you how to use that, but I can tell you about the atmosphere needed for its enactment, and the proper tone of cultivation. First, however, you must sup upon the blood of the gods.”
The boy gulped, but his resolve was steady, and he nodded his head. “I shall.”
Manifesting her cauldron at her feet, Jaq-Mahveyel stirred its contents, carefully ladling out a mug for the child. He sniffed the liquid sceptically.
“Isn’t this just hot chocolate?”
“No,” Jaq-Mahveyel said, her expression straight, “it’s the blood of the gods. Would you like marshmallows with that?”
“Yes please.”
***
Anaxcrescor worried as he rode the tunnels of wind, his lantern flickering in the rushing breeze and his feet plap plap plapping on the sky. He’d been rambling far when the letter reached him, and wasn’t sure he’d reach his swamp in time.
Fortunately for him, Jais had decided to invite Caedes to spend a few days relaxing in the spheres of pure void, and since he had great hot springs and cosy beds Caedes had accepted the offer. And so it was that Anaxcrescor had more than enough time to reach his lair, dust it, tidy it up, and make it look as if he hadn’t just rushed back for the express purpose of meeting his future guest.
There was a knock upon the door of his hut. The blue-black skeleton dragged himself to the door, the swish of his oilskin matching the plap of his sticky feet upon the floor, and laid one tar-covered, skeletal hand on his doorknob. The hand quivered with anticipation at the thought of the adorable little guy who lay on the other side.
***
Caedes waited outside the shack, feet shifting nervously, trying to ignore the swamp around him. It was better left undescribed, even its leaves dripping with a viscous horror, and he wanted to know nothing of what hooted and howled in the darkness under the treetops.
The door swung open, the leering skull of a skeleton - coated in moving rivers of a tar - peering out at him. The thing must have stood well over eight feet, though its twisting weirdness made any estimation at its normal form impossible. Its empty sockets fixed themselves on his face, an antique lantern swinging in its right hand.
“Yyyeesssssss?”