Akachak. That was one of the many terms daemons expert in Glow-Sight used to describe what they saw and felt. Just one of a complex lexicon that was as vast as it was needed to fully encapsulate the unseen world of energy and leylines.

How do you describe the shape of a spell? The feeling of a magical imprint? The structures underlying reality? Sizgehn-Ghun was a technical jargon and its own language, made by daemons to describe all magic and beyond body-related phenomena. What it shared with Sizanal-Ghun was the ruthless, mathematical precision and obsessive attempt at avoiding flowery words. To daemons, both soul and pentacles had to follow the same, perfectly geometrical rules.

Watching the stranger, Kiarak felt a Ghun word come to mind.

Akachak. Roughly translated in common daemon-tongue: scorching-heat-that-hides-in-light-blinding-sight-mirror-seeing-through. A mouthful, and that was one of the few reasons a daemon lord wouldn’t let anyone catch him ask for a translation. It described a metaphysical sensation and a blend of feelings that only the Glow could show. And exactly what the stranger’s presence gave off.

If she had to describe it more prosaically, it was like watching the fiery reflexes a hidden lava caldera gave on a wall of crystals, while a vent giving off into the abyss underground breathed hot air in your face.

Kiarak tried to swallow, feeling her mouth dry. She opened her mind, and almost swallowed her tongue as the stranger suddenly shifted.

It spoke, and the word echoed in her mind again. Akachak.

“It’s strange.”

The voice was feminine, with an echoing, hollow quality that made Kiarak wonder if she was actually hearing it or if it was echoing inside her skull. Admittedly, it was difficult to be sure of it, since the words slipped between her thoughts like a knife into flesh.

“Akachak,” she said, her mouth having suddenly taken a life of its own.

The stranger didn’t react. She was doing something that required both her hands, but Kiarak couldn’t see what it was.

“I feel I should be angrier,” the stranger continued. She spoke with a conversational if slightly puzzled tone. “You invaded my world. Brought danger and conflict. Profaned my Garden. Spoiled my children in such a way that even I doubt I can fix it. Even if I shouldn’t. Even if I shouldn’t…”

Kiarak had once endured a popular kind of torture among daemonlords to use against particularly annoying upstarts: the slow burning of very sensitive bundles of nerves usually located in the nose, feet and hands. For some reason, that pain like thousands of needles piercing those very spots returned as she listened.

“Akachak,” someone said, with a voice similar to hers.

The stranger didn’t look like she heard her. “But you’re such puzzling, interesting creatures,” she said, sounding like she was making some huge concession. “Daemons…”

Kiarak didn’t see her move. She didn’t even see her get near. Yet, her sight was suddenly filled with a massive face that was like a mask, two blazing lights peering down at her.

“I am Aura. You are Kiarak,” she said.

“Akachak.”

“And you’re overwhelmed by my presence, even when I don’t try to. Like that other one.” The stranger’s – Aura’s – eyes narrowed. “Let’s see…”

She did something. Kiarak wasn’t sure what, but it felt like pins being pulled out of her head. That “Akachak” drew back, turning into sunrise just beyond the horizon, and suddenly Kiarak found herself able to think in less than a concept once again. And fear flooded her.

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“Apapapa,” Aura waggled a gigantic finger at her as she opened her mouth. “I am being very patient right now, and only because my interest is piqued. Speak, and maybe, just maybe, I won’t be patient anymore. You little, mischievous speck of dirt.” A glimmer of rage, as ravening as a horde of daemons and as unquenchable as the abyss’ fire, breathed from her words for a moment, a glimpse over enough devastation to fill the world. Kiarak clamped her mouth shut.

“Good!” She clapped her hands together, looking pleased. The door over that devastation snapped shut, leaving only vague impressions of it. “As I was saying…”

Turning, she walked toward… a desk? A slab? Kiarak wasn’t sure. She hadn’t noticed it before. She was sure it wasn’t there a moment ago.

Struggling to keep herself in check, she focused on her captor. But her senses flatly refused to put her into focus. All she had was that mask-like, metallic face, burned into her mind like a mark. And, well, her size. She was… colossal.

Aura leaned over her desk-slab, watching on something she couldn’t see.

“Daemon… the body…” she mumbled, and then spoke in a tongue that Kiarak couldn’t puzzle out. But it was strangely musical, each lingering inside her mind longer than it should, making her scales itch and quiver.

“I see redundant organs. Regenerative capabilities. Multi-spectrum sensorial apparati. In-built armor. Reservoirs for fluids and nutrients, and efficient digestive systems. High-density muscle. Tough, adaptive flesh. Low body fat percentage, but that varies among the specimens. The over-developed gland system suggests a powerful ability for self-induced pain and fear control. The blood is a sludge easy to knot and close wounds, and contains small parasites I suspect are responsible for the regenerative functions and in part for the heightened metabolism. The stomachs’ content is deeply acidic. Combined with the oversized parasites living in it, it’s more than able to digest metal. An array of organs is clearly meant for the harnessing of arcane forces.”

She spoke in a clear-cut, clipped way that reminded Kiarak of the Gennoth. But the Gennoth she assisted usually spoke like that while having an assistant taking notes. And she didn’t see anything like that there. The strange, indecipherable words came coming, interspersed among what she couldn’t understand like spires jutting from magma.

“That said, the specimens differ wildly in their external and internal body forms, as well as in their bone structure, so much that bar some glaring similarities, it would be easy to classify them as different species. Many show a number of imperfections as well, ranging from minor tumoral masses, mutations and a range of illnesses, all of them easily handled by the organisms. Because of this, it is deemed unlikely that the numerous grafts, scars, piercings and other marks have been added in relation to health. The grafts especially, barring a few examples, are kept unclean and dirty, with the acceptance of the implement entrusted to the organism’s adaptability. Bafflingly, it has not been possible to locate a clear demarcation in gender. Over sixty specimens examined, eighteen different genders have been found.” She shifted something on the slab. “...nineteen. Given these results, it’s clear that the sample isn’t large enough to draw conclusions about the daemons’ biological demarcations. That said, my current working theory is a division by function.”

Kiarak perked up a little. “Uhm,” she began. That.. thing seemed interested in how daemons worked. Maybe if she offered some insight…

Aura froze, then kept talking like nothing happened.

“Among the differences, three main body types have been found. We’ll call them Heavy, Arcane and Mixed. It would stand to reason that the demarcation was justified by an over-specialization in certain societal and biological roles. For example, the Arcane body type has shown a remarkable abundance of organs specialized in detecting and shaping arcane forces. This suggests a sub-species specialized in magic and magical research. On the other side, the Heavy body type showed an enlarged brain and limited physical functions, both suggesting a more technical, or even intellectual role, maybe of a management type. Compared to them, the Mixed type appears to belong to some kind of drone category, with wildly different forms used for survival and battle functions and their reproductive organs reduced to sexual gratification.” She put two fingers to her chin. “That would apparently leave us with a hive structure. But the harmony produced by such a form contrasts with the psychological data, which infer an over-exaltation of the self. An opposite pressure, maybe? To contrast the divisive impulses? No, too convoluted. The previous theory holds. Anyway, we can infer the existence of other classes, especially one dedicated to mass production.”

She started pacing, every step sending slight tremors through Kiarak’s feet.

“In conclusion, a rough yet sturdy race. Destructive yet powerful. Ravenous yet with the skills to feed itself. A brute-force attempt at evolution stability. A race of single-minded predators and self-predators.” She paused, and Kiarak was unsure if she looked giddy, annoyed, or something else.

Whatever it was, there was a chance to be caught here.

“Uhm…”

Or maybe not.

Aura froze, then slowly turned blazing eyes on her.

“Why do you speak?” She said, voice twinning into overlapping growls. “Why do you tempt my patience? Why do you feel the need to pollute my air with your voice?” She stalked toward her, and Kiarak scrambled away, the bars slamming against her back as wrathful light filled her vision. “Look at you, with your thoughts enclosed inside that shell you call a skull. My children and I are One. ONE! We exchange emotions and understanding as easily as you pump air into your mortal vessel. But I can’t hear you. I can’t feel you. You’re Other. A monument to selfishness. A hermit ignorant of her own loneliness. Ignorant of her own ignorance! I should break that little head open. Then you wouldn’t vex me anymore!” Her air whipped like under a storm, her fingers twitching and loosening. “You ruined my children! They were perfect, and you ruined them! You… you…!”

And then, to add shock to shock, she started crying. Or at least Kiarak thought so. Daemons cried so she was familiar with it. What she wasn’t familiar with was the way Aura clutched her face and shook and trembled all over, her voice breaking in sobs.

"It was her!" She sobbed. "That damnable Beyonder! Why would she cover my eyes like that? She's me! Why would I hurt myself like that? Hurt my children! I hate her! I hate me!"

Kiarak was trying to puzzle a meaning out, and a way to gain an advantage from it, when Aura seemed to regain her composure.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” she murmured, her fingers leaving indents on her face. “Don’t get angry, it’s okay. They’ll get fixed. Ilienta will fix them. Everything will be okay. Everything is okay, really!” She added genially, and lightly slapped both her cheeks, all the groves smoothing themselves over with a popping sound. “Let’s get distracted. Don’t think about it, alright? Alright!” A Can-do gesture signaled the end of that little mad moment for her, but not for Kiarak. Reeling with shock, she was certain of one thing by now: that thing was absolutely bonkers, both in the mind and body departments.

“So!” Aura’s large face appeared before her, startling her. A wide crevasse had opened in the lower half of her face. She was smiling. “Who made you?”