Eltha shivered as she walked behind the colossal armored figures that had dominated her group. She flinched at every sharp crack of thunder and the bright flash of lightning; the chill of the wind increased as it weaved through the dense jungle foliage, making her stoop and hug her shivering arms.
Never before had she witnessed a storm this ferocious, and it started to worry her at the implications. Her toes flexed against the rising streams of running water the heavy rainfall generated, feet sinking into the muddy soil, but all she could hear was the pounding water, thunder, and somehow, the terrifyingly sweet voices of the Thélméthra.
Her purple irises shifted with her waist to glance back at the two skeletal Quen’Talrat flanking her; their polished white bones dripping water, yet the emerald flames licking down their frames refused to die. They held Denral, Toka, and Forva in their large hands, wrapped in strong silk.
Abominations … Elinor creates abominations. The Supreme Chiefs must be enraged, but with who? This is the worst storm I’ve ever witnessed, even in the north…
She winced, head lowering as something struck her head, and shortly after, noticed what appeared to be chunks of clouded gems falling around her. Her shakes increased, remembering the stories her parents had told her as a little girl.
A hard lump dropped down Eltha’s throat; it felt like her tongue was trapped in her throat. She wanted to ask the Thélméthra to find cover but was even more terrified of their judgment than the stinging cold gems.
The second sign of the ancestors’ wrath … cold rocks that fall from the heavens … our ancestors are throwing holy stones down upon our heads for our failings to heed their warnings. Is this the ancestors sending their disapproval of us bringing Elinor to our world or to show us that we’ve lost favor entirely with them?
Vi hummed softly, body rising a little as they continued to trudge through the mud. “Well, this is rare, Lea. I only remember this happening once when I was very young.”
A soft giggle vibrated from Azalea as she lifted one of her eight legs to nudge her sister without slowing. “Very young? You’re the youngest out of all of us!”
“I know,” she grumbled. “I’m just saying, I’ve only ever seen this once. Why did Edmon recall all of the Yaltha’ma?”
“Hmm,” Azalea lifted her two front legs and made several sharp gestures that Eltha couldn’t follow. “They make for good accuracy practice. Oh, and I think it’s because these cold rocks can kill the little things if they get hit on the head.”
“Eh … too much work, and how weak can they be?” Vi mumbled. “Didn’t mom say something about this stuff, too?”
“Well, you can’t really blame the little things; they have such small and weak bodies. Umm, yeah, I think mom did, too,” Azalea hopped forward a few times, legs a blur as she appeared to be cutting the rocks in two. “She said that the Queens of the past used to live in a place that would see many such storms. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
“I don’t know,” Vi hummed. “I’m not a fan of the cold.”
Azalea just giggled before humming some kind of musical tune while slashing the air as they moved.
Eltha hunched over, covering her head and eyes to protect them while she stumbled forward, and they finally broke through the dense jungle, reaching the Deadlands, the red and brown soil spreading out and killing much of the vegetation.
The nightmarish black-walled visage of the White God’s Fortress appeared before her eyes, partially hidden by the flurry of cold stones that increased in ferocity as they neared. Eltha was beginning to feel the welts forming across her smooth orangish-green skin.
A few bright flashes momentarily blinded her, and a warm burst of wind brushed against her skin before it turned cold again. She noticed two bony Quen’Talrat a little to their right, hauling a strange contraption with wheels, loaded up with dead creatures from the jungle.
Fennel’s words returned to her with sharp clarity. Will I be killed and brought back? Fennel warned us that we’d lose if we engaged … he was right. These Thélméthra aren’t even the ones that Elder Chief Valdar warned us about. Tiffany and Edmon … are they taking us to them? Are we going to be killed and risen?
Eltha’s quakes increased as they drew closer to the colossal walls, moving toward one of the three enclosed gateways within sight. There was a gap between the smooth stone block ramp and gateway; it was clear that the drawbridge had been broken during the Fire Wars.
However, it appeared like Elinor had some of her minions build a makeshift bridge out of long wooden beams, and the massive metal gate seemed to have been pulled up, showing a solid wall lifted over thirty feet into the sky. Even from this distance, Eltha could see the impressive thickness of the door.
Her eyes slid down to the slanted base of the towers and gatehouse, noticing damage that had been done to the stone base, but it was minor. There were places all along the two towers and the gateway that could be used to attack the forces below.
No wonder our ancestors couldn’t get past these barriers. How do they lift it? It must weigh more than an entire clan combined.
She watched the two Quen’Talrat ahead of them ascend the slope, pulling the cart up the laid brick incline. It didn’t take them long to get to the top, and they took care with the ramp, moving their hauled goods over it to disappear beyond sight.
Eltha sucked in her lip as the raining cold stones started to increase in size, and a sharp gust of cold wind stung her bruised skin. Please, Supreme Ancestors … please protect us. It wasn’t my fault for bringing Elinor to our world. It’s not my fault … I was just following orders. It’s Fennel’s fault! Please spare us!
She breathed a shuddering breath as she took her first step on the cold brick ramp, noticing how each block was larger than her whole body. Cold liquid slid down the gradient of the stone, gathering between her toes as she climbed with the Thélméthra to the makeshift bridge.
Heavy rain, holy rocks falling from the sky, cold gusts of wind, and lightning that splits great trees in two … this must be the ancestors’ ire.
The balls of cold stones rolled down the ramp as they continued to fall and increase in size. Reaching the top, she didn’t feel as scared of the bridge as she first thought as she approached; the beams looked old but were more than four feet wide and half a foot thick. She had to step up onto the wood and follow the Thélméthra across to the other side.
She was stunned by the magnificent sight and intimidated by the sheer size of the structure she was entering. The open homes of the Ri’bot were nothing like this, and the Yalmáth structures in the north had a similar design, but the Quen’Talrat fortress dwarfed the northern cities in grandeur.
They passed below the enormous door overhead that could be lowered, stepping on a metal grate that seemed to likely drop with the gate so it would fit inside. Eltha lowered her arms as she left the pelting storm, her body still trembling from her stinging bruises.
She slid her tongue over her lips, lingering on her two left protruding teeth as she glanced around. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the darkening interior. Several metal latticeworks had been raised, and the sound of rain and thunder gradually dampened as they continued.
A lump dropped down her throat as the high-pitched growls of a Yaltha’ma spoke in front of them. She wasn’t exceptionally versed in their language but had learned parts of it from her upbringing.
“Go’la has … tasked to take … to …”
Vi breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s fortunate; this place is a maze. I have no clue how to get to Tiffany.”
“It would be good to familiarize ourselves with the fortress,” Azalea mused. “That’s what Tiffany called it, right?”
“That’s what I remember,” Vi said as they began following the small creature.
The creature led them through twists, turns, and down long flights of stairs; Eltha had long since lost all sense of direction, but she could smell the strong scent of the Yaltha’ma permeating the air and ground.
Azalea and Vi chatted ahead of her, Azalea playfully jabbing Vi’s leg as they continued their light banter. Vi quickly started fighting back with her own wordplay, but Eltha was too worried about what they’d said before to fully follow their conversation.
This is bad … really bad, but there’s … what can I do? Tiffany … we’re going to see Tiffany, one of the horrors Elder Chief Valdar saw. Why? What will she do to us? I don’t want to die … I don’t … can I talk with them? Maybe I can work my way to freedom through labor … some races do that.
Her mind looped through horrors until they reached a long corridor, and the Yaltha’ma stopped, pointing ahead. “Up … Great Soup One is to the left.”
Eltha’s forehead furrowed. I must have misheard her? Soup … I knew I should have paid more attention to Haliba’s teachings. When were we ever going to actually speak to Yaltha’ma, though … no, no, why am I thinking about that?
They moved forward, and she was almost shoved to the floor as one of the bony Quen’Talrat behind her nudged her, grunting for her to keep moving. Her legs trembled as she followed the Thélméthra, and they paused halfway down the hall, turning to stare at her with their gem-like eyes.
“What’s the hold-up?” Vi growled. “Hurry up! Tiffany has been waiting for us, and I will not be yelled at by my mom because you’re dragging your feet.”
Azalea bounced up and down, causing slight ripples to transfer from the stone up Eltha’s already quivering legs. “Yes, I can’t wait to see what Tiffany has planned! You think we’ll sing?”
Vi hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t think … are you really that unstable?” She sighed as Eltha’s legs gave out beneath her.
“I-I’m … I just—just…” She stammered, fear numbing her tongue and legs.
“I thought it would be better to wrap her up,” Vi mumbled, turning back around.
Eltha tensed as web suddenly shot out of Vi’s abdomen, surrounding her, and soon after, she was being dragged along the ground. “S-Sorry … I’m—I’m s-sorry…” She quivered in the sticky silk, and every bump sent a jolt of pain through her bruised body.
The Thélméthra ignored her, and it wasn’t long before she stopped; the web was ripped off her, making her wince. Her purple irises shifted right and left, trying to grasp the situation as a soft and pretty voice hummed with interest.
“So, these are our little spies?” The slight twist to her lips, and the way her glowing orange irises slid down her body made her quakes increase. “I look forward to our research.”
Eltha’s vision centered on Tiffany, taking in every inch of the woman. She appeared rather unremarkable, like most the other humans she’d seen, but the aura she released made her bruised skin crawl.
Parts of her back were decayed, showing orange veins that shone with an inner light. She wore less material than the other humans she’d seen, showing immaculate tan skin that glowed in the orange fires that lined the corners of the room.
“Where should we put these others?” Vi asked, pointing one of her sharp left legs at the warriors wrapped up in her silk.
Tiffany leaned back, pulling her fur out of her face before clasping her hands behind her back. “Mmh, let’s see. Why don’t you drop them off in the corner with the other two? I must finish my preparations. I’ve been excited to test out combining different ritual methods to see how they function together.”
“Oh, that sounds interesting!” Azalea squealed, body shifting to take in the entire room. “You want me to help you, too?”
“Indeed!” Tiffany’s smile turned to Vi. “You may follow the Yaltha’ma in the hallway back to Edmon. He’s been asking for every able body to help him get this ancient relic up and running again. Your artistic finesse will do wonders with his architectural expertise.”
Vi’s tone lit with fire. “My artistic finesse … yes, I cannot wait to create more works of art! Thank you, Tiffany.”
“You’re such a treat,” Tiffany giggled. “I look forward to marveling at your talents and how Edmon can mold it.”
Vi bowed before quickly scurrying out of the room, and Tiffany motioned to the two skeletal apes. “You two drop those three off in the corner and turn over these tables.”
Eltha stood in silence, utterly lost with what she should do as she watched Tiffany direct the two Quen’Talrat.
“Yes, those two tables, line them up along the wall. Ah, the opposite way. We need the tops facing the center. Now put this one here, flip it around, there. I need ingredients tables along this wall. My goodness, I’m so happy the Quen’Talrat were so big; there’s so much room to work with!”
“What are we doing?” Azalea asked, moving to the opposite corner to stay out of the skeletons’ way.
Tiffany hummed softly as she unfolded a bag in the corner, snapping her fingers; a bright ball of orange flames appeared out of nowhere, floating in midair. She dipped it into the bag and pulled it out, quickly separating the mess of ingredients inside the fire across the table.
“Learning, my dear. Oh, and you, dears, you two pick up that over there … be careful, and Azalea, if you could link it to the ceiling above the table.”
Eltha’s brow creased as the bony apes raised a strange rectangular object that reflected the image of what stood before it. What is this device? It’s like a still stream … it’s much clearer than the reflection of metal.
“Ah, a little to the left, Azalea. The mirror needs to be perfectly situated above the table. Hmm … on second thought, we can move the table. Just make it even. Yes, there we go. Okay, you two move the table to the right … up a little … there! Perfect!
Waving to the two Quen’Talrat, Tiffany gestured to the door. “Go back to Edmon for more work.” She turned back to her sack, expecting her orders to be followed without question, and to Eltha’s surprise, they did.
Tiffany really is high ranked … is she just under Elinor?
The woman lifted another raging globe of flames filled with materials from the sack. “Vi is obsessed with creating art with her webs, but I’m obsessed with knowledge and its uses. Science practiced with a lack of moral guidance … how fun is that! Think about how much more we can learn if we forget the regulations.”
“Regulations … science? I don’t understand.” Azalea moved closer to look at all the strange materials Tiffany placed on the rough surface of the table.
“In my previous world, we were reasonably advanced in many surprising ways, but many laws and ethical restraints also constrained us. Now, there is a good purpose in recognizing different culture’s laws and customs; it can help you use them as puppets. You must be careful with how you deal with different races.
“That being said, everything in this universe is meant for our Empress. No other ethical barrier is needed besides her word, and where she doesn’t say, we must determine ourselves.”
She licked her lips, glancing back at Eltha. “Witchcraft is my art, and the more I learn, the more I have to experiment. Witchcraft is all about harvesting, mixing, and reactions … Chemistry is beautiful, and the science of the mind is so fascinating.”
Her head tilted slightly, black fur falling to the side. “Well, let’s see … what is your name, dear?”
It took a moment for Eltha to respond; her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. “I … my n-name is … it’s…”
“Take your time,” Tiffany urged with a reassuring smile; Eltha was beginning to better understand her facial expressions and how they connected to her tone of voice. “You just calm down a bit while I continue to work.”
“What about me?” Azalea asked.
“Oh, your time will come,” Tiffany chuckled. “Be patient. Just watch me and consider everything I do. Ask yourself, why is Tiffany saying this or doing that? Understand?”
Azalea bobbed up and down before returning to the corner to sit, lying perfectly still as if waiting for prey to cross her path.
Eltha reluctantly rose to her feet, rubbing her bruised arm where a few sticky threads remained; they’d shockingly somehow lost a lot of their original stickiness, allowing her to brush them off.
She followed Tiffany’s soft melodic hums as she moved between the tables by the wall and the one in the center of the room, flames filled with a white chalk-like substance that looked like the stuff kids used in the north to create images on stone.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Licking her lips nervously, she rubbed her left arm while mumbling, “M-My name’s Eltha.”
“Eltha, huh?” Tiffany mused, creating strange designs across the surface of the table in the center before making similar designs on the flipped over structures by the wall. “What an interesting name.”
The danger she felt slowly lessened as Tiffany busily moved between areas, placing different types of ingredients across different regions on the designs.
What am I doing here? Tiffany doesn’t seem that bad … I mean, I don’t quite get everything she’s saying, but Witchcraft doesn’t look that terrible. She’s just making a bunch of child’s drawings.
Eltha puffed out a long stream of air through her lips before glancing over at Toka and the other warriors, still trapped in the web. “Umm … why am I free, and—and the others are bound?”
“Hmm,” Tiffany smiled while carefully drawing lines along the floor, running up the legs of the table to connect all the designs across the room. “Lea told me that you were being compliant, and I like that. I don’t find it that concerning to let you loose, and I think you know that Azalea could cut you into pieces within seconds if you tried anything.”
A fearful chuckle left her throat. “Yeah … I realize that. Umm … are you worried about the Supreme Ancestors’ wrath?”
“Supreme Ancestors?” Tiffany repeated thoughtfully. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about your religious beliefs, including these Supreme Ancestors. Why don’t you tell me why I should be worried? I’d love to hear your opinion.”
Eltha’s forehead furrowed, and she licked her left two teeth again before pressing both pairs against her lips. “Y-You really want to know about the Supreme Ancestors?”
“Oh, sure! Why not?” Tiffany said with a bright laugh. “As I said, knowledge is a passion of mine, and that includes your culture. In fact, learning your culture is of paramount importance. Intelligence gathering is a foundation in any authority. How else will we forge the great chain that will pull all good things into the Empire?”
“Good things? You want to make a place where everything is good?”
“Oh, most definitely,” Tiffany said while placing different minerals, plants, and ores in specific spots on the intricate interweaving design she’d created. “Tell me more about your beliefs. What should we be worried about?”
Feeling a bit more strength in her belly, Eltha cleared her throat. “The Ancestors make the rainfall, and—and they are angry right now. That’s why the cold holy stones are being thrown from the sky and the lightning … the roaring thunder of their voices.”
She started to gain momentum as her mother’s teachings flooded back into place, and Tiffany continued to work without interrupting her. “The Chief Ancestors rule the high places as blazing fire, and the Supreme Chiefs are the brightest of them all. The One Above All, the Supreme Chief Gogath, moves all things to his decree, including the two moons and the sun. It was by his order that the Lesser Chiefs and Honorable Ones released the rains.”
“Interesting,” Tiffany whispered, causing Eltha to snap her jaw shut. “Give me a moment.” The woman’s critical orange irises slowly moved over her work. “This should do … let’s see if I can make a sort of machine out of this. Shall we? Oh, and can you put some of your neurotoxins on the ingredient table?” She asked, smiling at Azalea.
“Mhm, mhm,” Azalea bobbed up and down before rushing over and opening her mouth.
Eltha’s muscles tightened as two long fangs poked through her mouth as sticky saliva dribbled down to the table, and a grayish liquid shot out from her long teeth to spray across a clear section of the surface.
What is she going to do with that? Force it down our throats? Please, no…
“Thank you,” Tiffany cooed, rubbing Azalea’s leg. “I love you girls! Could you grab one of those Ri’bot, one that you paralyzed, and lean him against the far left table?”
“I’m excited to see more! The neurotoxin should be cycling out of their system, soon. They have a way of sweating out toxins. Should I unwrap him?” Azalea asked.
“How fascinating, and that would be wonderful. I already have everything set up to my liking.”
The Thélméthra quickly moved to follow her orders. “Anything else?” She asked, somehow easily removing the silk from her target. Eltha clutched her left arm; it was Forva.
“Nope. Just continue to study and watch.”
Azalea returned to her position, and Tiffany guided her flames down to gather the saliva and poison, separating it into two flames. She moved between the designs, placing it at the end of some lines.
“Okay,” Tiffany took a deep breath as vibrations pulsed through Eltha’s body. Her smile fell, and she held out her hands; the lines began to glow with orange light.
“By six paths of bone, link these rituals and activate them as desired with the condition of life; bind those ensnared with the invisible thread of silk; imprison those ensnared with the pollen within the flora of pure white Heather; silence those ensnared with the flora of pure white Rose, and paralyze those ensnared by the neurotoxin of a Thélméthra. Lock in a union, and dance to the strings of a Witch.”
Eltha didn’t realize she was trembling, but she couldn’t help it; the waves that had pulsed around them were unlike anything she’d ever experienced. She couldn’t see anything different about Forva, except that he was staring at them with wide eyes, unable to move, and the lines continued to release an orange light.
“W-What did you do?” Eltha asked.
Tiffany giggled before winking at her. “Ah, that will come in time; now, please continue your story. I still need to test a few things with how these rituals function together. So far, though … it seems like a success! Ah, and while she’s talking, Lea, could you put the others on the other tables?”
“Of course!” Azalea replied, moving quickly to comply.
Eltha wanted to question her further, but also didn’t want to anger the woman. She shivered from the cool air, gently cycling around them. “Umm … aren’t you scared of the storm outside? The Supreme Ancestors—they’re angry … they even cause the beasts to migrate. It is our first ancestors that sent the Thélméthra, Quen’Talrat, and other threats to punish us for turning away from the ancient ways. We brought dishonor to…”
“Excuse me?” Azalea growled, legs twitching as she moved to stare at her with her pink gem-like eyes.
The threatening vibe that smashed against her made Eltha jump back against the wall, grunting as the air was pumped out of her lungs. She coughed, gasping for air as she fell to the cold stone floor.
“Hmm?” Tiffany mused. “I think you upset her, Eltha. The Queens were never commanded … that is, before Empress Elinor. Correct?”
“Yes,” Azalea huffed, long front leg scraping against the wall and chipping stone. “My mother was never commanded by such a thing!”
“S-Sorry,” Eltha quivered while lying against the floor, trying to regain her breath. “It’s just … it’s what we’re taught … what we…”
Tiffany clicked her tongue. “Let’s move past that part.”
“Is there truth in her babbling about the rain and other things?” Azalea asked, removing the web around one of the Ri’bot.
Grem began struggling in Azalea’s long legs, growling and grunting unintelligibly, but the pressure the Thélméthra used was too much for the warrior. The moment he was forced against the massive Quen’Talrat table, he fell limp, and the glow increased.
Eltha watched the scene with rising shock. It paralyzes … if someone is laid against it, then they can’t move. Tiffany says for it to imprison those ensnared by it. Is it like the Mysticism of some of the other tribes?
“Likely not,” Tiffany said, walking over to Toka as Azalea released her from her cocoon, knife clattering to the stone floor. She bent down, picking it up before examining the blade while the Thélméthra set their leader against her own table.
“Who can really say, my dear? Could your Supreme Ancestors be the cause of the way this universe functions? Perhaps, though I doubt it, still, it is a theory that has yet to be disproven. I tend to lean towards science, however, and it tends to function the same in all places; how that is brought about in the first place is anyone’s guess, though,” she chuckled.
Eltha pondered Tiffany’s words, but couldn’t quite grasp it.
“Oh, I’d much rather hear about your science!” Azalea said, picking up the last remaining cocoon, Roka, Toka’s brother, but before she ripped off the cocoon, Tiffany stopped the monster.
“Ah, that one is the final piece of the puzzle. Put him on the center table.”
“Okay,” Azalea said with a bright tone. “How does science say it rains? Is it like singing? That would be fun!”
Tiffany giggled. “No, no, nothing like that. Hmm … how would I explain it? Well, going back real quick to Eltha’s model, it’s a fascinating theory of how the universe works. Basically, the stars in the sky are the manifestations of their ancestors, and the brightest ones are the oldest and most powerful among the pantheon.
She licked her red lips, her focus moving to Eltha. “Can you climb the pantheon?”
“Umm … y-yes … there have been great chiefs in the past that are i-immortalized, such as Supreme Chief Jalia.”
“Hmm, it’s a wonderful concept of any living being that struggles for survival. A man’s reach should exceed his grasp—or what’s a heaven for? Working for your bread by the sweat of your own brow is an eternal principle of success. The Empire is a single entity that works to rise above all.”
Tiffany held her hands behind her back while Azalea unraveled Roka. His sharp green eyes snapped to her, and he didn’t struggle, but yelled, “Eltha, run, and inform…”
His voice died as he was forced onto the center table, causing his body to go limp. His eyes were wide open, seemingly unable to blink as he stared up at himself in the mirror.
A shake rippled through Eltha’s body as Tiffany’s soft smile turned to her. “Oh? Will you run, Eltha?”
Eltha quickly shook her head.
A depressed sigh left Tiffany’s full lips as she tapped Roka’s chest with her index finger. “What a shame. Right, Mr. Ri’bot Warrior? Although, how do you expect her to escape? I think she has more of a grasp of the situation than any of you. Where was I … ah, I was going to explain a bit about the weather.”
She giggled while sliding the knife over Roka’s left leg, and Eltha slowly got back to her feet, wincing at her pulsing bruises. “The current weather is quite the pickle for us. You see, the tunnels will probably be flooded for some time; the sewers are currently backed up, which is likely connected to the water dispersal system for practicality.”
“Can I do anything about that?” Azalea asked. “If it’s a problem, then shouldn’t we do something fast about it?”
“Well,” Tiffany sighed, walked back to the corner Azalea had been in. “Edmon and I have already discussed it. There really isn’t much we can do at this point. We will be flooded for a time on the lower levels. Water levels rise shockingly fast the moment the systems in place are overloaded, and if it’s what I suspect, a hurricane, then it’s bound to be a problem.”
Eltha locked her dry lips. “Umm … maybe I c-could do something?”
Tiffany’s head tilted to the side as she slid her finger along the side of a big long object leaning against the wall. “I hadn’t thought about that option … it’s possible, but first, we have a learning opportunity for Azalea.”
Eltha’s voice rose with hesitation. “What kind of learning opportunity?”
“I’m glad you asked,” Tiffany said. “Although, I keep jumping around topics,” she sighed. “Let’s see … let’s first discuss the weather.” A giggle slid through her throat. “My, talking about the weather … anyways, there’s a common misconception among many humans in my world.”
“Humans?” Eltha asked, shuffling a little closer to the table to look up at the mirror. Tiffany doesn’t seem all that bad. She’s let me talk, and hasn’t hurt anyone; they’re just in their version of a prison. The Roxim Clan does much worse things to its prisoners.
“That’s my race, dear,” Tiffany chucked. “In my world, there’s this belief that clouds are just big containers of water, and if it rains harder, then the cloud will run out quicker. It’s sad but true; some people think the duration of a rainstorm will shorten the harder it is.”
“That’s stupid,” Azalea huffed. “I’ve seen hard storms last a long time.”
“Correct!” Tiffany said while leaning back against the table that Roka was trapped against. “If you watch storms like many of you likely have, then it seems silly. Well, let’s get to the science of it, then! The atmosphere, everywhere in the sky, even outside the clouds, it all contains tons and tons of water.”
Azalea lowered her body to Tiffany’s eye level. “I’ve thought about that since it is so blue, but then the changing colors always confused me.”
Tiffany nodded. “I understand that; it’s not like you had anything else to judge it off of. In reality, under a stable combination of temperature, pressure, and humidity, all that moisture is perfectly happy to exist in a completely gaseous state.”
Eltha’s eyes fell to the floor. “Gaseous?” She asked, drawing out the word. “A combination of temperature, pressure, and humidity … I understand that, but I’ve never thought about those concepts together with water.”
“It’s about states of matter,” Tiffany explained. “Matter changes based on the amount of energy it has; if you add more energy, then the material will change. Consider lighting a fire under a pot of water; it boils, turns to gas, and rises. You are adding energy by transferring heat! Simple chemistry. Understand?”
A small smile touched Eltha’s face. She’s so nice. I’m sure she can be scary, but she’s also super helpful. I can’t think of any Ri’bot that would teach a prisoner something, and be so patient.
“I do … thank you, Tiffany. You have taught me a strange concept … my mind is still having a hard time picturing this with the sky, though. How does this process make clouds and water fall from the heavens?”
Hoisting herself forward, Tiffany wandered back over to the ingredients table to continue sorting the items, and both Azalea and Eltha followed her. She held up different materials with her flames.
“Solids can melt into liquids; liquids can evaporate into gases. It's even possible to heat a gas to the point it can no longer keep itself together, making plasma. Flames and lightning are both examples of this state. On the other end of the spectrum, you can remove enough energy to get Bose-Einstein condensates, or alternatively, you could increase the pressure to such extremes that you get what neutron stars are made of.”
“I don’t know what those other three things are,” Azalea mumbled.
Eltha studied the shifting materials in Tiffany’s flames with a slight frown. “Yeah, I haven’t heard about them either.”
“That’s expected,” Tiffany giggled. “Those three can be pretty complicated. The three basics, solid, liquid, and gas are the primary ones you should remember. Now, close your eyes and imagine this … well, I understand you can’t close your eyes, Lea, but try to picture this…
“The sun is a big globe of extremely hot fire in the sky, and it sends out energy across the world. That energy is light, and it heats up the ocean and lakes, causing a change in states. What does that liquid change to?”
“Gas,” Azalea replied before Eltha could even open her mouth.
“Correct! Most gases are so light that they float up to the atmosphere and get trapped by its pressure; not all gases, but most, and that’s important to note. Once energy is lost in the atmosphere, then the gas forms back into water and drops back to the earth.”
“What about the holy stones?” Eltha asked, trying to picture everything Tiffany was explaining, but she was starting to feel a little self-conscious as her mind shifted to Toka and the other warriors.
I’m sitting here learning things while they’re stuck to tables … they must hate me, but they were the ones that attacked them in the first place. I didn’t attack them and surrendered. Naturally, they’d treat me better, right?
“Hail,” Tiffany said with a soft smile, taking some of Azalea’s saliva from earlier and making it turn into the frosty substance.
“By the ancestors,” Eltha mumbled, leaning in closer. “The fire isn’t even hot … you made one of the signs of the ancestor’s wrath…”
“Like I said,” Tiffany chuckled. “Just hail. This is what happens when many liquids turn to a solid. Add more energy … liquid, and even more … gas.”
Eltha breathed out a gasp of wonder as the saliva seemed to vanish. “Mysticism…”
“No, dear, science,” Tiffany chuckled before tilting her head, vision narrowing. “Well, I suppose how I did it could be considered Mysticism to you. It’s just manipulating the energy inside my Witch’s Fire, but that would count as magical,” she laughed softly before snapping her fingers.
The fire extinguished, and she moved back to Roka. “Now, why don’t we get started.”
“With what?” Eltha asked.
Azalea and Eltha walked beside Tiffany, looking down at the warrior.
Tiffany’s smile turned into a smirk as she glared down at Roka, and her orange irises lit with an intense light as she glanced at her. “In my world, there was an event called the Russian Soviet Gulags, and inmates were the ones that largely ran it. They were brutal and even more ruthless than the guards. I’d like to set up something similar here and run my own experiment, and you’re my first candidate.”
Eltha’s throat went dry as the cheery woman’s expression transformed before her eyes. “W-What? What do you w-want me to do?”
Tiffany flipped the knife around in her hand, handing it to her. “Take it.”
Both pairs of Eltha’s teeth pressed against her lips; she knew this wasn’t a request. She hesitantly reached out but shrank back as she touched Toka’s blade as if burned; this was her warrior’s initiation gift, and it was unlawful for a non-warrior to hold it.
A lump dropped down Eltha’s throat; Tiffany’s long black fur shifted to the left as she tilted her head. “Something wrong? You wish to survive, yes?”
The gums around her teeth began to ache as she slowly reached out again, fingers slowly closing around the handle.
“Good,” Tiffany cooed. Eltha leaned forward a little to stare at the knife trembling in her hand as the Witch said, “Now, cut open his leg.”
I … can I do it … no, no, I shouldn’t … but if I don’t … what will she do? Will I go on the table … I don’t want to. I … I…
To her own shock, her hand lowered, and after what seemed an eternity, the knife she held cut into Roka’s left thigh. A glob of thick green blood oozed past the polished blade.
She’s a monster … how could I…
Her body turned slightly, and a quake ran down her frame at Tiffany’s bright smile. “Now, slide it down to his knee. Don’t worry; I’ll knit everything back up. We have a long time until Iris and Cami return. This will be fun!”
Azalea hummed softly. “Oh, this is fun! Why doesn’t he scream, though?”
“Ah, we can make him do that … it’s about manipulating the ritual. You see this glowing part here? Just press this and…”
“Damn, you all … damn you, Eltha! Have some pride,” Roka growled, making her fingers quiver.
She’s not nice … why did I think she was nice? Please, someone, save me … I don’t want to do it … I don’t…
“Now, now, Eltha,” Tiffany giggled. “Don’t let him decide the end of your life. You don’t want to be in his place, right?”
A lump dropped down her throat as she croaked, “No…”
“Lovely,” Tiffany cooed. “When shall we…”
“You’re a coward, and a…”
His muscles relaxed as Azalea reached over and tapped the glowing section Tiffany had shown them. “This is so much fun!” She squealed.
“We are setting a stage to extract information,” Tiffany explained. “Talking about it is also a form of torture. You see, there is a reason why in my world, the military trains soldiers with the expectation that they will break.
“Torture works, and it’s just how long you can resist. It’s impossible to create something out of whole cloth, and if you haven’t been tortured, then you wouldn’t understand. Oh, the conversations I’ve had with soldiers that returned from war; they’d make your ears bleed.
“The question isn’t whether torture works or not, that’s silly; no, it’s first, do they have the information you wish, and second, how far are you ethically willing to go. It’s not if you’ll break, but when, and there are delicious methods that people cringe even reading. Joy, hate, love, fear, pain, everything is a weapon and can be used.”
“Oh?” Azalea hummed, turning her body to look at the wall of Ri’bot, eyes wide open as they glared at them. “What about these guys?”
“Oh, this is a cakewalk,” Tiffany giggled. “We have all the leverage in the world, their honor. How long can they stand the pain of a brother? People with morals and attachments are the easiest to exploit! We’ll go through everything in great detail.” She said with a bright, succulent tone.
“People often see horrible things and empathize, which puts them at odds with the inflicting party, and it will always be the same gruesome cycle. The Ri’bot didn’t feel evil when slaughtering hundreds of defenseless humans, yet now they expect sympathy and compassion?”
Tiffany chuckled. “Attack the Empress, then genocide has been agreed upon, and they will soon understand that word. They labeled the Quen’Talrat evil … they don’t understand the word.” Her glowing orange irises moved to Eltha, and the intensity in her smiling eyes sent a quake down her spine. “But from salt and sand … they will.”
What kind of mind does she have? This is a nightmare … can the ancestors save us? It’s like she’s not afraid of anything. How can any Ri’bot stand up to her? How can I get out? Is it possible? No … if I want to survive…
A lump dropped down her throat as her purple irises fixated on the green blood oozing out of Roka’s leg, the wound that she’d caused, and tears gathered in her eyes. Yet, despite her thoughts and crying, she followed every order Tiffany gave.
Through Tiffany’s strange Mysticism, Roka couldn’t even release his pain through screams unless they let him, and she began to feel a new sense of control as they continued. The liquid in her eyes soon ran dry as she listened to Tiffany’s methodically directed cuts. Every new command was more aggressive than the last, and worse, it became easier.
I’m a monster … but am I? I just don’t want to die … and for the first time, in so long … I feel in control.