The Empty Mirror
Chapter 60: Creeper
The reason that compelled my pen to name the vegetation giving rise to grotesque insects as "Cursed" is nothing but a reflection of the entirety of the Hanging Gardens, a landscape and monument steeped in curse in every aspect. With its deformities and atrocities, its degeneration and peculiarity, "Cursed" emerges as an epitome of the Hanging Gardens themselves, transcending the mere title I've bestowed upon one of its specimens to embrace the very essence of the Hanging Gardens. However, I cannot ignore the fact that such bulbous plant, whose womb harbours life, is indeed an omen of fortune and an avenue of escape for the biological aberrations that lie within this mortuary. These placental sacs, as I prefer to call them, are the epicentre of gestation for the horrifying creatures that populate this gloomy place. As I delve into the study of these placental plants, the cursed nature of the gardens and their enigmas becomes evident, as well as the symbiotic relationship with their specimens.
The placental plants act as gestating wombs for these monstrosities, housing within them the genetic material of the giant insects. If I manage to discern any beneficial relationship between the insects and the vine, using the placental sacs as an ointment, it could signify a favourable turn in my destiny and grant me an unsuspected advantage. This idea sprouted in the recesses of my troubled mind in a moment of deep reflection. I concluded that in this realm of nightmare, the only path to ascend towards the peak and validate theories, rather than formulate them, was through experimentation and the experience that such audacity would offer. Therefore, I decided to experiment with the curse lurking in the gardens, employing magical artifacts, the choker, and the staff. Leveraging my proximity and resources, I stealthily approached one of the gestating plants, secluded from the conglomerate, ensuring it appeared vulnerable and unlikely to spawn in the near future. Lurking, I approached and, with the sharp blade of the knife, pierced it. I penetrated its entrails, unveiling the gestation of one of those corpulent insects, wrapped in a placental chorion.
I utilised the "Bite" attack of the magical artefact "Hunger on Trial", directing the strike with precision and determination. At the initial contact, I glimpsed the possibility that my theory regarding the proportionality of the attack was plausible. The magnitude of the threat seemed to be proportional to the victim's hunger and, consequently, to the critical damage inflicted by the choker. However, aware of the imprecision of this initial test, I did not place all my trust in it. My assumptions, though grounded in observations, were just that: mere conjectures about a phenomenon beyond my full understanding. With the inspiration granted by the "Two of Wands" staff and the invocation of the "Whip of Vitality" ability, I ventured into a sequence of events that, while proving fruitful in their outcomes, was a whirlwind of experiences and discoveries. I outlined a faint theory upon observing that the "Whip of Vitality" attack seemed to feed solely on living beings, sapping their vitality and leaving them in a state of stagnant health, unable to heal. Thus, when applying this ability to the fetus resulting from gestation within the plant's entrails, it was shattered with the first strike of "Hunger on Trial", and now, completely corrupted by the power of "Whip of Vitality".
My first test subject had become useless, so I was compelled to repeat the process. I located another gestating plant with the same characteristics and, with meticulousness and determination, proceeded to exterminate it, delving into its entrails and experimenting with the fetuses, often encountering more than one. I deformed and mutilated them in various ways in my desperate quest for answers to my afflictions. Throughout, I exercised caution, both with the specimens and the magical artefacts, and my own safety. I moved stealthily and fearfully among the bushes, satisfying my basic needs to avoid succumbing to the curses of both magical objects. I attempted to evade the side effects with hope as my only ally, even as my trembling hands were covered in sores and crusts, my palms full of calluses opened in pus and gangrene, whose wounds were slow to heal due to the friction and use caused by the staff.
The skin of my neck, nearly torn by the choker, exhibited signs of extreme dryness, crust-like in appearance, a consequence of the prolonged use of "Hunger on Trial". However, these very afflictions made me more cautious and less fearful of the curses of both artefacts, always seeking a balance between the knowledge gained and the risks faced. Engaged in a perpetual game of hide-and-seek, I plunged into an endless cycle of unmet needs and painful experiments, healings and mutilations. This state of constant affliction and quest for answers in the Hanging Gardens stood as the most harrowing and distressing chapter of my odyssey. I do not know how much time passed in this state of decay and forced vitality, immersed in despair to find salvation. In the gardens, dusk was eternal, shrouded by a perpetual mist that enveloped every corner. My senses sharpened at each stimulus, except sleep, which refused to visit me in this endless nightmare.
My counterfeit hours were consumed in a whirlwind of frenetic activity, without a moment of true rest. Sanity slowly faded, making room for paranoia and delusions of persecution, which relentlessly haunted me in every corner of my makeshift study. Despite it all, I persisted in my tireless quest, fuelled either by ingrained habit or by the spark of hope that still beat in my heart. I continued my almost frenzied analysis until I finally glimpsed results. But my victory seemed questionable, as the "Two of Wands" staff was corrupted by an insectual secretion, a desperate cry for help that resonated as my last hope against my enemy in the Hanging Gardens. Finally, I concluded my inquiry with results that infused hope, traversing Hangings Gardens once again with renewed determination after my previous stagnation. However, as I progressed, the shoots and vines rose like bulbous tendrils, lurking among the debris and tortuous paths of the garden. In the shadows, that creature emerged slowly, and I knew it had been watching me from the shadows, fearful of the power of "Hunger on Trial".
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I came to a sudden stop as I watched the vine twist and meld with the hive mind, transforming into a dusk giant towering over the monument. It was the final showdown, the rematch between the monstrosity of the Hanging Gardens and a fearless blasphemer. The battle unfolded with dizzying speed, scaling the slopes of the garden. I remained in a raised position, impassive, resigned to my fate. I knew fleeing was futile; in the blink of an eye, it would reach me and subject me to its will. The nature of the vine was that of a torturous executioner, tearing into the entrails of its victims and slowly suffocating them. A slow, agonising torment awaited me, one that could last an eternity if it so desired. This time, despite its primitive intellect, I would evade the critical damage of "Hunger on Trial" and satiate its insatiable appetite with my suffering.
I knelt on the earth, awaiting my imminent fate of being decapitated by the vine, whose strands gleamed as if forged in brass. This noble metal, an amalgam of different elements, symbolised unity and strength, promoting mental clarity like the wise drawn from the depths of the earth. The blacksmith, akin to a priest of the power of metal, knew the secrets of metallurgy by exploring the bowels of the earth, where fire and forge gave life to new creations. In my desperation, I sought a ray of hope beneath the surface, focusing my faith on finding that shining metal that could save me. I grasped the staff with my aching hands, and the monkey paw began to tremble as if pricked by a dirty needle. Blood welled from the fingertips and formed a circle in the palm of the paw, while a divine glow materialised before me, a secretion crying out for help, like a plea for rescue in the night.
Meanwhile, in the skies of the Hanging Gardens, a swarm of giant insects congregated like a horde of locusts, advancing towards my position with insatiable voracity. Their heavy wings beat the air, some falling under their own weight while others mutated, hungry and thirsting for blood, ferociously closing in on the guiding plant with their bulbous stems. In my role as a herbalist, I witnessed this macabre spectacle with fear and determination. The creeper slid over the stone structure of the monument like a torrent of yellowish vomit, but it was already too late when some of those giant insects emerged from among the tops of the colossi and from the very structure of the Hanging Gardens. Their bulging and deformed bodies moved with grotesque rigidity, some plants broke like fountains sprouting from a pregnant belly, and these creatures emerged from among them, deformed and crawling on the ground before taking flight towards the creeper, which I will call: Creeper.
However, the creeper was cornered. The insects waved their proboscises and wings, mutating their greasy bodies to devour the Creeper, but it defended itself with its distorted forms. With its flexible stems, it trapped the insects and, showing no mercy, mutilated them and emptied their entrails. The last ones groaned in their final throes, but they persisted, blinded by hunger and instinct, following my call for help. Starving, some insects piled up and began to consume the Creeper, but it reacted quickly, annihilating them with ease. More and more vines emerged from the hive mind, joining the battle and forming an impenetrable herbaceous mass, like a dome growing incessantly. Even around me, the vines sprouted from the cracks in the marble, ignoring me as they joined the Creeper's vomit, which seemed to be influenced by my call for help, defending the very nature of the Hanging Gardens with its insatiable hunger. Although the creeper seemed starved, it refused to feed, knowing that only the insects feasted in that bacchanal of voracity.
Quickly, more and more insects were born and converged towards the sensory essence of the Creeper. There were so many that even some, in the ether, splattered fleshily to the ground, like a rain of fat. Consequently, the Creeper faced increasingly greater difficulties. When the SOS signal seemed to slowly fade away, I understood it was my last hope, my final call for help, and I couldn't issue another. As for the staff, the double-helix wood seemed to unravel like gnawed cables, and the monkey paw atop the staff, convulsing, began to portray a theatrical scene. Bleeding with a dark blood, it formed a peculiar gesture: it raised the hand with the fingers together and extended, while the thumb was placed at a right angle towards the palm of the hand. The hand remained upright and steady, as if it were a flag waving in the wind. The fingers stayed together and stretched, not bending at the joints, creating a rectangular or square shape.
The wrist leaned slightly forward, hinting at an upward movement conveying a sense of firmness and authority, evoking the image of a flag waving in triumph or dominance. The monkey paw seemed to regain its vigour after the degeneration caused by the hunger of "Hunger on Trial", stopping the bleeding and exhibiting a beautiful makeup of bright red on the fingertips and the circle in the centre of the palm. It was a salute, a display of power, authority or celebration, influenced by the wind, gentleness, moonlight or intense sunlight. It represented the path of good deeds, the shape of a sword, prohibition, oath, blessing, dew of water, fairness, or the elimination of fear.
With the imperial purple cloak waving like a flag, I rose from the ground and held the staff with determination. As I healed from gangrene and the staff exorcised itself from the degeneration of appetite, branches like loose cables broke and reformed in a perpetual cycle, while the monkey paw convulsed slightly. Then, in the sinfulness of the Hanging Gardens, I slowly made my way towards the hemorrhagic battle, determined to confront its spawn and corrupt specimens. Prepared for the final assault, I planned to deliver the decisive blow to that degeneration, exorcising the Creeper with "Hunger on Trial". Like a faithful nun seeking salvation, I knew it wouldn't be easy; the Creeper was cunning and a formidable stalker.