Nova drummed his fingers across the arm of his throne, smiling pleasantly to himself as two figures entered the airy chamber.
One of them was of a casual, typical gait — perhaps too perfected; suspiciously indifferent. The second, ignoring the slobbering sounds their many mouths were producing, seemed to drag themselves along. I must insist they have more legs added to that beast, Nova mused. It wouldn’t do for the poor thing to get stuck, if in danger.
They were situated deep into the labyrinth that was the Chaos Sect’s base in Hell’s Floor, only the protection of metre deep walls muffling out the sounds of distant explosions. Still, the advancing duo approached, agonisingly slow.
He snapped a gloved finger. “Faster.”
True, Nova may have been acting a little curt, but these were his subjects. He knew the best for them, and if that included hurrying their pace a little, then the two would gladly oblige.
“Nova.” A deep, careful voice broke through the darkness engulfing the room. “I have heard of the . . . misfortunes that occurred in Hybrid.” A man — or at least, an Unbounded with the appearance of one — bowed deeply before him.
Nova took no notice of his looks. The Pet-Keeper was as plain as any being could be, as was the norm for most powerful Unbounded. Violet’s schemes had managed to produce a sect’s worth of unique doppelgangers, through a series of rather unorthodox methods, but standard Unbounded, without that luxury, always came off as a little uncanny.
The Pet-Keeper wasn’t a part of those schemes, and, if they kept this up, never would be. Nova slammed his fist. “Silence! You dare speak . . .” he silenced himself. “Do not mention my daughters in my presence. Or next time, I won’t be so lenient.”
The thought sickened him, and that sensation only expanded deeper, when Nova realised how he’d referred to the duo. As his daughters.
Whilst yes, they may have been his kin, Unbounded didn’t have familial connections in that sense. There were merely manufacturers and their offspring, not these frivolous roles of father, mother, and so on. For Infinity’s sake, they hardly had genders either. They were purely human concepts, adopted by a powerful few with a well developed mortal mien.
“My liege,” the Pet-Keeper muttered hurriedly, “I merely thought-”
“You thought wrong!”
For the first time in what felt like a millennia, Nova felt disoriented. So much emotion, he husked, perhaps I’ve gone native.
“How are our troops doing?” He enquired, tired of scaring his minions sightless for the time being.
“The Ambition Sect grows ever weaker,” the Pet-Keeper reported, “and Territory One, the Flame Sect, proves brittle. A Duration of attacks, and they’re already devastated.”
Nova allowed a smile. Not out of mirth, but merely to quell the servant’s nerves. Fronts should convey exactly what you desired them to, or so was how Nova always thought. “Good. We will not stop until the two of them are completely obliterated. Work alongside enemies of the Chaos Clan, and observe what happens.”
Delayed by a few moments, the second mass huddled closer, a splurge of alien noises in tow. The beast must have had the strangest insides, for it to both look the way it did, and to spur such unnerving sounds into creation.
It was less an organised system of limbs and organs working alongside each other, and more a drape of skin piled over a mound of disordered flesh. How the tissue contained it all was beyond anyone, with the layer bulging oddly in several places. An array of mouths slit into the flesh in disturbing protrusions, the other facial features dotted about seemingly without care for placement or quantity.
Dropping to his knees, the Pet-Keeper stroked the grotesque pile of limbs, grinning like an idiot.
“Daisy . . .” He uttered, with a babyish inflection, “who's a good girl, ah? You!”
Nova raised an eyebrow. Another human habit, damn them.
“You’ve seen to name it? Do you not consider Unbounded names enough?”
Even now, the two of them conversed in their own tongue. This not only served as a safety-net against eavesdroppers, not that there were any, but the language held a certain elegance to it no mortal throat could replicate.
“Well, I-” the Unbounded was clearly flustered. “All intelligent Unbounded have names in both tongues. Daisy is perfectly in the right to follow in that practice.”
“I never knew the definition of intelligence to be so broad.”
The Pet-Keeper kept his mouth shut, but his eyes carried a certain animosity that no tightness of the lips could conceal.
“Tell me, Pet-Keeper,” Nova hurried matters along, “what Rank equivalent are the two of you?”
“I myself am similar to a typical Warlord, and Daisy”—he gave the monstrosity a weary glance—“is somewhere around a Splintered Rank. But after all those experiments, who can say?”
Nova swept his eyes up and down the creature of science. “Quite a remarkable use of the nonfunctional lot. I must say, we don’t waste any resource at our hands, do we?”
“Never, my Lord,” the Pet-Keeper half winced, half smiled, “never.”
A moody quietude infested every crevice of the atmosphere, and Nova basked in the discomfort within his servant’s shifting features. Closing his eyes, Nova ignored the duo ahead of him, knowing full well they wouldn’t dare leave until his direct dismissal.
Merging with the former Nova’s body had rewarded him with quite the interesting after-effects. Abilities no standard Unbounded were privy to sat at the corners of his perception; the strengths of a God-Graced awaiting his call. Perpetual Sight, Nova focused inwardly, the lingering darkness making way for a fresh visage.
He was above all of Hybrid, a splurge of purple upon the horizon. The winds of Infinity pervaded anywhere the eyes dared stray, painting the world a husky grey. Colour would be an option of course, but detail wouldn’t arise to Nova until he pinpointed on his desired location.
Closer, his lens focused. Sifting through, sifting through . . .
Across plains of igneous his eyes crawled, airborne vessels through which physical mass held no power. In and out of streams of lava, up and through clusters of the blackest obsidian, laid a wasteland. His minions rushed through the primary base of the Flame Sect, walking, humanoid beasts of crystal amid their ranks. Through the savagery, across the warring tides of flesh and Unbounded, a further vista lay.
Amid mountains now, the puffy white mist of clouds syphoned across his field of vision. Through this, and lower, ever lower.
Below, the target of his desire lay. Barely scrambling together after the last siege, the Ambition Clan may as well have been a valley of tombstones. The vision grew muddy, and, seconds before he saw to withdraw, two familiar faces stuck out amongst the swarm.
In a rush of air, Nova snapped his eyes open.
“Pet-Keeper!” Nova boomed.
“Yes, my Liege?” The kneeling figure jolted.
“Prepare for both yourself and your servant to depart for Hybrid. I need you to be ready to attack at any moment’s notice.”
The Unbounded leapt to his feet, already rushing to manoeuvre a collar around Daisy. “Right away my Lord, right away. Your word is where my hand shall stray. Your word, Nova! The prodigy of the Unbounded, he who will strike divine justice upon those lousy-”
Nova raised his hand, not bothering to yell. They were wise enough to obey either way. Whilst some crevices of him could appreciate the sentiment, there still lay figures within this grand scheme beyond even a God-Graced’s might. Beings that could make the gods themselves tremble.
He could not disappoint them, if he was ever to reach that level.
“Be out of the Ravaged Lands before the Duration ends, and do not let a soul see you. In the meantime,” he dusted down his hands, “I have a message to deliver . . .”
----------------------------------------
Remus didn’t appreciate being interrupted, in any scenario.
He especially didn’t treasure being interrupted mid-training. But worse? Being caught off-guard by an Unbounded at the perimeters of his clan.
Remus could physically see Aziel swallow, the both of them holding flaming hands aloft, heads poised to the target of a dozen screams. Aziel took one shaky breath, before dashing off. Scrambling to follow him, Remus’ racing mind could barely comprehend the boy’s next manoeuvre: a very technical form of flight that involved expending fires through the palm.
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
He must have reached the ground borders in seconds flat, whilst Remus was left in the dust — arriving a minute later, clutching at his stomach. Panicked civilians grabbed any sharp end in the near vicinity, pointing it towards the singular entity with gritted teeth.
And what a mystifying specimen it was. In the perfect outline of a human, the creature was more a silhouette than a being of blood and flesh. An outline of the purest shade of black Remus could recall seeing, as if the being was the very absence of space. With pristine posture, it stared out at the leering clansmen with its blank, alien face, communicating nothing.
Finally, it spoke. “Bring me your sect leader. There is much to discuss.”
Several people near the front charged their way towards the living shadow, weapons poised. Only a gush of fire from Hansley, a few other quick-thinkers, and the woman’s furious expression stopped the fiend’s utter destruction.
“Are you all insane?” Hansley shouted. “Think!”
Remus nudged Aziel as discreetly as he could, for any sudden contact, and the boy looked like he would set you alight by instinct. “Why aren’t they killing it? That’s an Unbounded, right?”
His sparring partner’s tone held a quality rarely heard; only when Aziel mentioned his father, or the wider crisis facing the Ambition Sect. “Yes. Or, maybe. It's complicated.”
“That,” he levelled a spear the being’s way, pointing in the most aggressive means possible, “is what we call a Projection. A weak Unbounded imbued with a slither of a stronger one, as a means of communication. It's typically used past the front lines to send non-threatening messages to humanity, or so I’ve heard, the Unbounded equivalent of Perpetual Sight.”
So they’re trying to send a message, Remus assessed, but why? Threats?
As Brison marched down towards the flock, a ginormous hammer over his shoulder, Aziel somehow scowled deeper. “Zero points for guessing what he’s gonna do with that thing.”
Silence sucked away the words of all tense clansmen, a vacuum seeming to follow the Warlord anywhere he tread. Winds whipped through the air as he hefted the bulk of the weapon towards the Projection, expression hidden behind a nest of grey hair. Remus’ tunic shook as a disturbed breeze lashed out, the impact of the swipe seeming to persist for seconds that lasted far longer than they should’ve.
Remus was shocked to find himself shaking, and, grasping his own wrist, promptly stopped himself.
The man was as succinct as ever. “State your business.”
“Violet.” It spoke, each word ripples of twilight. “Hand her over, and our attacks shall cease.”
Even through the distorting filter, Remus could recognise that regal voice anywhere. Yet Nova’s presence put to the wayside, he could hardly stomach what the Projection had just said. All eyes turned to Violet, and Remus could have sworn he saw multiple people twitching to move. To forcibly hand her over to Nova the second they saw an opening. Of course, they weren’t aware of that fiend’s exact identity, but they would have casted Violet to the ruler of the underworld, if it ensured their safety.
Mutters inevitably returned in a swarm of noise, and Violet shifted in the most discomfort Remus had ever seen her in.
“What’s with her?” He heard multiple people utter.
For some reason, the Projection found this absolutely enthralling. “Oh?” It jested, “you don’t know?”
“I knew something was off about that girl!”
“Quickly, one stranger for the entire sect!”
Heat pervaded through Remus’ entire body, his irises flickering a light blue for a moment as he fought to chain down the wild ideas his Mark was handing him. Before he could so much as take a step forward, Violet had run off, sprinting back to Hansley’s farm in a desperate hurry.
No one tried to stop her, but Remus knew many were tempted.
Whispers continued, elevated to a greater volume, and Remus couldn’t even read Aziel’s expression as Brison stomped his foot. Fighting to maintain balance, Remus clutched at his knees, the world appearing to spin around him.
“Enough!” The sect leader shouted. He swivelled round from his chided juniors, before levelling his sights on the Projection. It was a motion far too swift for an old man.
“Do you accept?” Nova posed the question yet again, to which Brison said nought. “Your people seem to be in agreement, why not lend your ears to their pleas?”
In a movement so swift Remus barely caught it, Brison lifted his hammer.
“I don’t make deals with Unbounded. And I certainly do not trade life for life.”
The Projection was crushed, its fickle body not standing a chance against the raw power of a military veteran. Hoarse screams resounded all around, the repetitive outcries seeming to echo, despite the lack of any enclosed space. Brison lifted his weapon out of a crushed spot, fissures now spreading through nearly the entirety of the pavement.
As the Warlord turned around, and began to stroll casually back towards his throne, a speck of viscous goo arose from the Projection’s ashes.
“You made your grave Brison,” Nova spat, “just recall who commissioned it, when you meet your downfall.”
As the last of the Projection dispersed, Remus couldn’t quite breath through the tightness in his chest, as all eyes turned towards the farmhouse.
“I’ll go check on her.” He blurted, ignoring the disgruntled expressions of his peers.
“I don’t mean to mistrust you Remus, but your association with Violet will lead to suspicion — it wouldn’t be unwise to suspect you have ulterior motives to protect her.”
Brison’s words weren’t harsh per say, but they certainly rubbed Remus the wrong way.
“I’ll go with him,” Aziel stepped forth, like a heaven-sent angel. “You mustn't worry.”
One slow nod of acceptance from Brison, and the two of them zoomed off. Constricted throat inhibiting his ability to express thanks, Remus kept his eyes dead-set on a blaze of purple in the distance.
----------------------------------------
Violet entered the barn in a rush, skidding across scattered hay as she blinked ultramarine dots out of her eyes. An awful sickness churned her insides upside down, and staggering to a stand, she had to lean against a pole supporting the rafters to stand upright.
Thoughts upon thoughts spiralled out of control in the panicked nexus of Violet’s mind. They held no beginning, nor any clear end, the mystery of how an Unbounded could have a Mark scaring her incessantly.
Her father’s face, her father’s stolen face, emblazed into Violet’s retinas for all eternity. In her maddened haze, Veida’s letter somehow found its way into her hands, the words seeming to morph into the things of nightmares, out to eat her alive.
Violet threw the letter across the barn, reluctantly picked it up, and repeated this cycle half a dozen times. Finally, she laid cross-legged at the centre of the barn, eyes twitching, and considering whether or not to tear the parchment to shreds.
Footsteps outside demanded her attention, an outside force dragging her back to reality a smidge. Violet looked around, blinked, and did absolutely nothing.
“Violet?” Remus called. “I’m coming in okay? Aziel’s here with me. We should be able to talk this out.”
That was the least reassuring should to have ever graced Violet’s ears. “Fine. Come in . . .” she murmured, though she supposed she didn’t have much choice.
Deliberately slow, Remus opened the door an inch ajar, glanced over to her, before swinging the gates open fully. Then, each step painfully slow, the two strolled over, crouched down to join her, and swallowed.
No words escaped any of their lips, until Remus eyed the sheet she was clutching. “What is that?”
The two exchanged a look, and the tense curves growing in Remus’ face conveyed understanding.
Aziel looked blankly at the two of them. “What? What is it?”
Remus flickered two fingers towards himself, though the effect was lost with the stump that had become of his ring finger. Violet understood anyway, handing over the message.
“Holy . . .” he sounded honestly stunned, eyes almost comically widened. “And this is actually her, not a trick?”
Understandably, Aziel was quickly becoming red in the face. “What letter? Hello? I am here, you know!”
For the first time since their arrival, Violet levelled her gaze at him. True, she understood the frustration of being out of the loop as well as anyone, but his constant interruptions weren’t doing any of them any favours.
“It's real,” she turned back to Remus, “her handwriting, delivered by Pippin. Scary how well birds can locate things, even people. We’ll have to keep a watch on the skies next time we travel.”
“So,” Remus tore his eyes off the letter with some difficulty, “what are you going to do?”
Aziel had clearly abandoned any attempts to gain an insight, sitting silently with his lips twisted in a pout Violet probably would have found humorous under other circumstances.
“I’m going to the city proper.” She eventually spoke. Previously, Violet had only considered this as a possibility, but now it felt right. “I can’t endanger this sect by staying here, and if”—Violet shot a glance at Aziel—“she knows anything, it could be invaluable.”
Taking a step forward, Remus opened his mouth, before shutting it. His silence was louder than words. The two had been travelling together for entire Passings at this point, across wolf-ridden grasslands, formless dreamscapes to which could be put under no descriptor, and now here. A humble sect in the middle of nowhere: Remus’ last hope at attaining power. To suddenly separate after all of that sounded peculiar; a foreign concept that boded one instinct — danger.
The two had only survived this long by their united power, left to their own devices, who could say how they would fare?
“We’re both headed to Hell’s Floor, we can regroup eventually. Continue your training, and depart when you’re ready. It’ll take me some time to formulate usable plans anyway.”
“You’re departing?” Aziel’s eyes, directed at Remus, read of nothing but treachery.
“Yes, but . .. not yet. It's complicated.” Remus spoke, face trapped in an eternal wince. “I’ll explain to you as best I can when the time is right, but you’ll have to trust me. I’m working towards the benefit of us all.”
Aziel kept his lips sealed, mind evaluating every word they uttered. At last, Remus confronted Violet, the regrown curls of his ginger hair as dishevelled as ever.
“I can’t stop you, but be careful.”
“Of course, I’m not an-”
“No, I mean it. If you perish, there'll be no one left to oppose Nova. The consequences then . . . it would be catastrophic. So don’t get yourself killed. If you do, I’ll kill you.”
Taken-aback, Violet was too stunned to point out the blatant nonsense he was spouting, nor the paradox of that.
“And,” he seemed to cringe before the words left his mouth, “I hate seeing a friend getting hurt above all else.”
A most uncomfortable air pervaded the interior of the barn, as Violet wrote out her belated message to Veida on the parchment’s other side. If you found me, she thought, attaching the reply to Pippin's talons, you sure as hell should be able to find her. Feeding the sparrow a chunk of her leftovers from breakfast — Hansley fed them handsomely — she gave the sparrow one last therapeutic stroke, before the bundle of feathers went dashing off.
“Come,” Aziel muttered, rising to a stand. “We’ll oversee your departure.”
A dazed look somehow aroused in his whiteless eyes, Aziel standing stiffly as the both of them went to join him.
Violet hardly recalled her exit, for her eyes were squarely on the ground beneath her feet the entire time. But she felt the clansmen’s gazes, their piercing stares seeming to penetrate through her mortal form, appalled at the Unbounded monstrosity that lurked underneath. Logic told her they had no way of knowing, but logic was just as tricky as any other enemy.
Past the erected huts, standing like sentinels to oversee her passage; through the gathered crowd, not a word of complaint arising; past the cocky poises of said people, standing broadly, with arms crossed, as if to exclaim this is what you get!
But there were no words. No farewells, or well-intentioned goodbyes. A grim smile from Hansley was all she received, as silence reigned supreme.