It resists. This stupid, stupid piece of trash rock. It keeps resisting me. I chip away at it, sink my ribbons into the surface and rips continent-sized chunks off it with my spear. It’s slow going, and for the first time, I find myself short on patience. The messages don’t help.
The Black Core shudders and shivers, repairing itself against your assault.
Beyonder: ReLeNt
Shut up, Other Me, shut up. The images of the Six keep swimming before my eyes, impossibly tantalizing even in their vagueness. I wet my lips, golden drop falling away to pierce holes through the black clouds beneath. All prophecies and warnings be damned. I won’t be denied.
I stab my spear into the planetoid, and islands of black rock fly off as I trace a path along its surface. Au’Makh joins in, the eye burning as blast of light after blast of light smashes into stone, breaking and cracking. It’s not enough, so I pounce. My fingers dig into the planetoid, whle plateau cracking as they elongate and bifurcate, the resulting tentacles digging hungrily.
I feel Azakar’s pulse go faster, like the dragon’s throat was in my grip. It pushes back, first with flickers then with tendrils of lightning that surge from the depths of the planetoid to run over my skin. Even the chunks I keep ripping off seem to take their own life, sharpening and turning before slamming against me.
It does nothing to deter me. More tentacles emerge from my body, each sprouting maws that latch onto rock furiously. I won’t be denied.
Beyonder: ReLeNt
Shut up shut up shut up.
Frustrated, I rip my hands and tentacles away, and watch furiously as the rips and fissures repair themselves before my very eyes.
“Too slow,” I hiss. I need a way to break apart this insufferable nut faster, faster than it can regenerate itself.
The lust for the vision of the Six mixes with the sheer outrage for this thing to defy me so. There’s nothing I can’t overcome, not here, not in my Greater Self, no obstacle impossible to surpass. And, I have to admit grudgingly, such a challenge is delicious in its own way.
Pushing myself into the Sky, I levitate for some fathom, before turning to observe the results of my work.
The planetoid’s perfectly round shape is marred beyond recognition. Deep crevasses fend the body, opening into a spiderweb of cracks and fissures that ran for almost its entirety. The face I raged against is almost completely flattened. Still, even as I watch, the damages are swiftly mending, new rock flowing like ink to fill the cracks. It’s a living, breathing thing, worthy of the Sky’s anger, and I would be in awe of its vitality, if not absolutely fuming for its stubborn opposition.
“The Six…” I muse. Snorting, I turn away. I’ll be back with a tool powerful enough to shatter it. It’s not just a matter of finding what the vision means or overcoming the challenge. I am the greater part of the Greater Self, not some mindless, rampaging beast. By defeating the enigma this creature poses, I’ll take that title in its entirety.
I make to move away, but then I stop, a thought hits me. Where has my child gone?
I find him drifting among the ashy clouds, an immobile shape given to the currents. A moment of self-reproach hit me as I gather him in my arms. I was so taken by the planetoid that I almost cut him off from my mind. Of course, he would shut down, poor child. Our Family is one after all, but that also means that the solution is ready-made.
A little touch is all that is needed for Izilianchi’s light to reignite. My son flounders in confusion, the image of his quasi-death and of my Reaper Aspect blinding him, before I smother the emotion, flooding the void with my presence. My son calms down instantly, gathering to me. I pat him, cooing gently to him. What a great mistake from my part. I’ll have to reward him for it. It’s just what a good mother would.
Together, we leave Azakar’s realm behind, and return to the Unformed Sky proper, making our way toward home. Very pleasingly, the Creators and their cohorts stay well away from us, only the most minor of creatures mindlessly straying closer and then only to be snacked on at leisure. I bask in it, infusing in gold tiny wing-creatures that I then pop into my son’s mouth, the little light eagerly catching the morsels with his beak. I giggle at how cute he is, and at how pleasing is for the Sky to have learned my position in the food chain. Now, minus the most mindless, all the creatures born from these glittering clouds will be born with fear of me in them.
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Indeed, it could make hunting them more difficult, but I seem to have grown fond of the act. Not enough to generate an Aspect for it, but maybe in time, it will happen.
Mh… maybe. It’s the first time I reckon to have used the word. It seems that my innate knowledge is starting to reach the limits of its expanse.
Refusing to let the realization down me, I race ahead, challenging my son to catch me. He tries to do so enthusiastically, and we trace circles and zigzag among the clouds, having fun as a mother and a son could very well do.
It’s pleasing, and for a time we both lose ourselves to it. By the time I put my feet down on my island, my son slumps into my arms, panting but happy. He purrs and ruffles his feathers when I stroke his head.
I giggle, walking the sand. The Unblinking’s Hands pass me by, smaller than my foot, and I am pleased that the only reprieve they take from their patrolling is the flicker of recognition in their quasi-minds as they recognize their creators. Even more pleasing, the Unblinking itself trusts the greeting to its Hands. The Overseer doesn’t leave its post not even for the blink of a moment.
My irritation simmers down as I walk between the walls dividing my islands, turning into quiet, joyful determination. I don’t think I ever met such a challenge, apart from my eternity-long journey. I look forward to meeting its hurdles. But first, family.
The sand crunches beneath my feet as I stop before the stone gate, the only one in the partition. Its rough craftsmanship belies its stolidity.
Nabb’ke, the Divide Gate built by the Golden Goddess’ greatest artifice and second greatest desire. It shelter paradise, dividing it from the chaotic world outside. It could withstand the weight of a world.
Nabb’ke pliably gives way as I push it open, recognizing me for who I am.
As I step beyond it, I enter another world.
The Garden has grown beautifully, an expanse of gently rolling hills covered in golden grass. There’s a delicate, peaceful scent on the breeze, and silvery leaves ring gently as they are stirred by it, the shimmering trees offering shade and comfort under gleaming bark.
It’s home, the garden of paradise, and I feel my son relax as the gate closes behind us, leaving all the nonsense of the chaotic world outside. I sigh myself.
Walking at a more leisurely pace, I take in the scenes. Spring is forever here, and all the trees bloom with tantalizing golden fruits and silver flowers. As I pass it, a branch extends toward me, offering me a glowing apple.
“Why, thank you,” I say, taking it, and the consciousness inside the tree shimmers joyfully. I offer it to my son, and he gladly digs in, golden sap flowing from his beak.
I giggle, and again as the breeze picks up playfully a couple of my ribbons. Its touch is gentle, not too cold and not too hot as it twirles and plays with them, improvising a little dance for my amusement. Good child.
Tree of Delights A type of tree that exists only in the Garden, the golden paradise created by Aura the Golden. It blooms eternally, offering shade and repaste to all who seek it.
Wind of Home The gentle wind blowing forever in the Garden, the golden paradise created by Aura the Golden. It caresses, whispering of home and all things welcome.
A burbling announces the presence of water before the trees move aside for me, showing me the center of the Garden. Ilienta glows softly atop a hillock, its roots digging into the fertile soil to bring life and vitality to any corner of the Garden. A brook flows happily down the hillock’s slopes, born from Ilienta’s roots to form a small pool at the hillock’s base.
Like many happy bees, they buzz in clouds, playing chase in the air and with the breeze, swimming in the water, or tumbling on the ground. A few play while lying among the soft grass, little legs kicking idly as they exchange riddles and jokes. A smaller replica of myself emerges from the center of the pool, offering caresses and strokes to any who come closer, and many children hang from her arms and hands, nuzzling against her and basking in her presence. Others gather fruits, the honey dripping from the bark of the trees, the sap of Ilienta, or even just the leaves, all of them perfectly edible to all my children. They don’t stack them or conserve them, since there’s no scarcity here, not even the concept of it, but they snack at their leisure.
It’s an image of gentle idleness, and it makes my heart soar enough that I linger for a moment, admiring it.
My children notice me, and a joyful recognition spreads. They leave fruits and riddles and play to come to him, a small swarm of fluttering wings and happy hearts. It warms me, and I let them, welcoming them all, even letting them sink into me.
Dear Little Lights. I made this paradise just for you, and you for it. You have no concepts of things like hatred, enmity, or refusal. You welcome and love and are happy, as I welcome you, love you and I am happy for you. Our perfect family, made to dwell forever in a land of spring.
I bide them take their elder brother, and they rush to obey. Izilianchi let himself be hoisted up and brought toward Ilienta by ten thousand little wings, already knowing that I want him to rest his heart and body here for a while.
Differently from his little brothers, my son’s soul burns already with the desire to destroy the enemy, but he acquiesces to my desires. Ah, ever-dutiful son. You may be forced to take part in the obnoxious chaos outside, but it only elevates your worth in my eyes.
Seeing me not lingering, my children grow sad.
“Are you leaving, mommy?”
“Don’t leave us, mommy!”
“There’s fruits and water and leaves for you here. Remain with us!”
Gently but firmly, I push them away. “Mother has many things to do before rest, dear children. Go. Eat and be content. I’ll be with you shortly.”
They are saddened but understand. It’s their Mother saying it after all, and there’s no place for even the idea of falsehood in their pure hearts.
As I am about to take my leave, my gaze strays to Ilienta. The tree is a focused concentration of my own essence, a casing made to envelop the lingering ashes of my first children, purify them of Chaos and mold them into perfect children of happiness and purity. It took effort and time, but seeing my paradise I feel very well-rewarded indeed.
The air changes as Nabb’ke closes behind me, this time giving its hard exterior. I let out a long-suffering sigh. Ah, to be able to rest beneath the boughs and sleep the sleep of ages and contentment with my children. But no, there’s still too much not under my sway, and I cannot stop from my endeavor, not until everything is me and everyone is my children. My ravening desire will not accept anything else.
And so, against all prophecies and warnings, how do I take a worm out of its black apple?
Beyonder: ReLeNt
Shut up.