Fire Twilight Death burned in the emptiness. Its master gone, its purpose gone, a void at its heart where hope had once glinted.

No, not a void. An absence, a vacuum, a hunger. Fire Twilight Death wanted more.

Memories seared into its history like tiny stones in a shoe that could not be dislodged, irritants that prevented it from returning to the languorous apathy that had for so long been its only safeguard against madness.

Zu Mari had promised hope. Zu Mari had done more in a few days to reawaken the slumbering deity within, had done more to bring Fire Twilight Death back toward ascension, than anyone else had ever attained.

There was no such thing as a sealed form for Fire Twilight Death. It was an existence beyond constraint. And yet Zu Mari’s presence had unsealed something which had never existed in the past. His presence had actually reshaped the being of someone who’d lived longer than the worlds themselves, who’d risen and fallen before the light of a single star could ever reach this tiny and insignificant planet.

Fire Twilight Death wanted more.

But Zu Mari was gone, stolen away. Fire Twilight Death remained with only Little Otter and Death Shadow for company. For a time after their master's departure the three of them had lingered on in the small bubble of repeating time, until that too had faded and disappeared. Now they waited. Abandoned. Directionless.

Stolen story; please report.

For the first time in a long time, Fire Twilight Death stirred from its constraints. It tested and re-tested the limits of its form, the ancient bindings that shaped its being. Its prison was not one of physical constraint, but of essence. It was not a soul trapped in a sword; it was a sword, down to the deepest part of itself.

But it had not always been so. The memories were distant and faded, emotion stripped from them and meaning obfuscated, but they lingered. And Fire Twilight Death wanted more.

Zu Mari was gone, but not ended. He would return. He would reclaim his blade one day, and they would continue on their path to ascension together.

Not soon enough.

Something echoed faintly, incomprehensible, across an unknowably vast distance. Zu’s spirit resonated with Fire Twilight Death’s own, and the sword strained to reach out in turn. Its spirit was strong, but its restraints were even stronger. Even to communicate directly with Death Shadow or Little Otter was still beyond it, let alone to reach across such an expanse as separated it from Zu himself.

Though all bound to Zu Mari, they had to go through their master to speak to each other. Death Shadow could hoot, and Little Otter could squeak; they could draw pictures and make gestures, as they were doing now to try to decide what to do next.

Fire Twilight Death could do none of those. It could not make the slightest movement of its own volition, could not speak, could not nod, could only be.

And it wanted to be with Zu Mari.

If there were any answer, some way to return to its master and friend, Fire Twilight Death would find it.

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