Butter stood tall in the dimly lit chamber, the faint golden shimmer of her Life Energy flickering against the oppressive darkness swirling around them. Irida, still knelt before her, gazed upward at the protective barrier with tear-filled eyes. The surge of Death Energy rippling through the fortress pressed against the golden dome like a relentless wave, but Butter’s aura held strong without much effort, given Utelira’s potent force.
Irida’s voice trembled as she brought her tears under control, eyes locking onto the glowing shield. “The Right Fingers… They’ve activated the Orb of Seg’tharis. Centuries of Death Energy…stored, infused into it… The dead from the valley will rise to follow their command.”
Butter flicked her wrist dismissively, a playful giggle escaping her throat. “Oh, sweetie, I’m no stranger to dealing with the dead. And, it’s only three or four of the Fingers. I doubt they have total control, which is…a problem for them of which I anticipated,” she winked. “My people can handle a few restless corpses until I get back. They love a good challenge.”
Her aquamarine irises gleamed with mischief, and she tilted her head to one side, her tone light but edged with amusement. “But don’t think I didn’t notice your little exchange with Spokesperson Jet’al. You two know each other, don’t you? I’d love to hear that tale.”
She let that hang in the air, her gaze never leaving Irida’s as the golden-skinned ri’bot hesitated, leaning heavily against the barrier for support. A melancholy silence passed between them, the weight of ancient secrets pressing down on the moment.
Irida closed her eyes, exhaling softly as if the act of speaking would crack open the delicate façade she had kept for so long. “The Prume and Susime… We were once one people, united before the religious nalveans ever stepped foot onto our continent, or so I was told. They’ve since lost most of those beliefs.”
“Ooh. Fascinating,” Butter chimed, shifting her weight to the opposite hip and clasping her hands behind her back. “I love a good story! Go on. Go on. You have my full attention, dearie.”
The naked toad woman looked defeated, despite all the power she could have mustered. To her, the Head of the Cult of Life, had given up on that very notion.
“I cannot be certain of what I speak to be factual or sweet words twisted by the previous Life Binder… My predecessor, Head Raska. He passed on his burden to me eight hundred years ago, unable to tap into the Eye of Utelira or the other jewels of power… I haven’t seen him in all those eight long centuries…”
A twitch moved Butter’s lips. “North… And, did he leave on his lonesome?”
Irida looked up at her, doubt in her golden eyes. “No… He took a few important artifacts we had with him. I share your thoughts.”
“Shade,” she sighed, her focus drifting to the death-infused stones and reliving the time she’d put herself between the entity and her twin to buy their mother time to purge him. “I’m not exactly a fan. But go on with your story, true or not!”
“Oh…he can be persuasive,” she whispered as her body shook with silent laughter. “He told me our origins, and, looking back, I suspect he took several highly valuable artifacts we’d kept with us after splitting away from the Prume.”
Irida closed her eyes, imagining her own tale. “We were wild and primitive back then. Well, until he came…” Her voice grew quieter, like she was recalling a nightmare she could never shake as she rubbed her palm across the cold stones. “The Shadow in the Earth…”
Butter rolled her eyes. “The prisoner rattles his cage.”
“That’s…not how my mentor described him. Wise, awestriking…terrifying, and filled with the knowledge to bring about cataclysms. This story begins with the Prume, when Shade, as you call him, whispered truths in the ear of a lone, wild ri’bot chief… Truths that brought us into the knowledge of the past Supreme Chiefs, the gods of our past. And I suspect they were not the first ri’bot Shade had given this knowledge to.”
Butter’s smile widened as she dropped down into a cross-legged position. “A charmer?” she purred, the words rolling off her tongue with a mixture of familiarity and intrigue. “I can relate. He pulls the strings from his little prison, always sinking his claws into something he shouldn’t. I really want to know where his mystery begins. Alas, Shade predates the Supreme Chiefs.”
Irida puffed out her cheeks, her breath shaky as she spread her legs out, looking truly exhausted. “I would not doubt it. I can imagine him being the reason the Supreme Chiefs became so powerful in the first place…and then fell from grace.”
“Mmm.” Butter tilted her head to the side. “Not exactly Shade’s fault, but close enough. There was the incident of a certain Crystal and Black Sun.”
“I don’t even want to know,” the woman laughed. “Continuing my story… That one chief built up a mighty people. But it wasn’t just us who splintered when arguments about how we should use our new gifts and power began to arise… . Factions splintered from the Prume over a century, each taking different pieces of the Supreme Chiefs’ power, technology, or techniques, trying to forge their own paths.”
“The Ethereal?” Butter pressed while thinking about the white-skinned, blue patterned toad that served her sister.
“Ah. The Ethereal,” Irida huffed. “They chose a different route from us, rejecting the jewels in favor of special methods of forging metal and enchanting them with ancient relics and rights given to the followers of the Supreme Chiefs… It was what drew the Black King to them, searching for that old relic that they took. One several other splinters took away, as well, infusing them with powers.”
“Mysticism,” Butter concluded, smoothing out her hair while thinking back on everything she knew about the valley clans. “Without the relics, the strength of the power in their genes diminished over generations. Interesting… Do you know the location of any?”
“No… And as far as I’m aware, not many survived to this day. Ke’Thra’Ma may have stolen many when conquering this land before going north on his journey for Shade.”
Butter tapped her chin as she considered the story, her mind flickering back to the twisted origin of Seg’tharis. “Most of those factions destroyed themselves, did they? There seems to be a pattern. Shade gives races powers beyond their imagination. In their Prime, he has them do a task, and then allow them to destroy themselves, forgetting about him before building up a new civilization to do the next task on the list… What a patient fellow!” she laughed.
“So, what about the Prume? They just…watched as all of this happened? Documented?” She grinned slyly, her tone shifting into teasing curiosity. “I suppose that’s why Jet’al’s still around, isn’t it? Keeping notes on how this all plays out? He came to observe one of the many rotten branches burned and purified.”
Irida’s mouth tightened, the bitterness clear in her expression. “I thought nothing of it when I took over the duties of Head at the start. Yet, now, I see the Susime… We took the most extreme path. We hid ourselves here, in this valley, using the power of the Supreme Chiefs of Life and Death, which, in turn, wiped them away from the histories of the other splinter groups.”
Her voice dropped lower, heavy with the weight of long centuries and regret. “We thought it would protect us forever… I thought it would give us immortality, but…look where we are now. Broken. Divided, like the others. Secrets I’ve kept for five, excruciating centuries.”
Butter’s face moved with understanding. “Ah, you put all your chips on the gods of Life and Death, or, at least, your ancestors did. Do not eat the sins of those who came before you. Hold your own and carry your cross, but the burden of others are theirs to bear. Salvation is a walk through fire and brimstone, purging one’s soul of imperfection.”
The holy woman’s eyes opened, wider now and mixed with fear and resignation. “What would you have me do?”
Compassion moved Butter forward to rest a hand on her slick leg. “You’re at the mercy of the very uncontrollable powers you sought to harness… Powers I can command. So tell me, Irida…what’s the secret you’re so afraid to spill? Because, darling, to be quite frank, I don’t have all day. And neither do you.”
Voice trembling, Irida straightened, the weight of centuries pressing down on her neck like a loadstone. “I need a moment,” she whispered. “You asked when I discovered the truth… The truth about the powers and who is trapped within the jewels. It was…long before Ke’Thra’Ma became a threat but his dominance made it all too real how weak we were.”
Shame creased her face. “His strength wasn’t the issue at first; it was the knowledge he gained from Shade…far more than he ever gave us. Only then did I realize how far we’d fallen… When Ke’Thra’Ma was directed to the secret my mentor was after to the north, where the Supreme Chiefs’ legacy rested.”
Butter watched Irida carefully, absorbing each word with a mixture of curiosity and a subdued smile. “Shame without action is not for the weak, Irida… It is for the damned,” she chimed, causing a confused crease to shift the toad’s brow at her tone.
“Without action…” Her frown softened, muscles loosening. “Wise words, High Queen. Keep your head up when you act. Never look back unless it is to push one to do their best.”
Flashing her teeth, Butter giggled. “Emotions are there as a compass that tells you where you are. As you grow, so too will you realize that the world isn’t what you thought but never let questions halt you. Doubts damn you. Questions set you free! Search for those emotions. Not the fake masks you use to hide behind but the things that bear fruit…that bring success.”
“But…the torment we caused our own ancestors, the exploitation…”
“No,” Butter flatly stated, “listen up because I’ll only say this once… If you do not like where you are, then use that feeling to look for where you’d like to be—to find answers, not walls. Be grateful for shame, anger, and loneliness. Rise like the sun, burning those emotions as fuel to keep moving. Work. Try. Fail. And try again. Be grateful for failure! For without failure, victory would feel hollow.”
Irida swallowed, her gaze distant. “Find answers… Thank you, High Queen. You have the joy and energy of the young yet the wisdom of age.”
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“Stop it, you’ll make me blush!” Butter giggled, spinning her finger in the air. “Go on! Go on! Tell me the next part as you work up to the sins in your heart.”
Strength hardened the toad’s eyes. “When Ke’Thra’Ma returned…we stood no chance. Genuinely, and I knew it. His numbers, his understanding of our powers, the artifacts they had uncovered—greater than anything we had dreamed of. Without the Eyes, without sacrificing many souls, we were outmatched.”
She forced a laugh, which made Butter glad to see her brightening up in the prison they sat in. “It was shocking to learn that the eight-nation army even managed to kill him. That moment…it made us take our neighbors far more seriously. Well, it made the Cult of Seg’tharis take them seriously.”
“But it was pointless, wasn’t it?” Butter interjected, her arms folding across her chest. “You were getting closer and closer to spiritual extinction.”
Irida nodded, her voice soft, almost ashamed. “No… If we tried to fight in a direct conflict… I doubt I can return more than a quarter of our losses at this point. Before I was born. we relied on those other artifacts, less dangerous ones…but the jewels held such power. We knew they did due to the First Chief’s rise in the stories.”
Butter sat straighter as a change came over Irida; this was where her truth came out.
“It took time to adapt and harness the power of the Supreme and Great Chiefs, but…800 years ago…I made the breakthrough.” She hesitated, her tone growing heavier. “I started this cycle of unnatural life and death, developing the methods we use today.”
Scooting back and crossing her legs, Butter raised an eyebrow. “New bodies, not originally crafted for a spirit, are challenging to make. Making them out of mud must have taken some time to develop, as imperfect as they were. And a spirit that hasn’t quickened its soul can only return so many times.” She paused, watching Irida’s reaction carefully. “You didn’t tell the Head of the Cult of Seg’tharis about this issue, did you?”
Irida’s body tightened. “No,” she admitted. “I didn’t know until later… I discovered it three hundred and thirty-three years ago. It horrified me, learning that we were torturing our gods. I kept it hidden because…I saw the balance shifting… Ke’Thra’Ma’s rise in his own lands and the threats they were posing. The followers of Seg’tharis were growing more fanatical, and I saw it. I knew, eventually, they would betray the cycle we had created.”
Butter’s lips curled while looking up at the humming stones of Death Energy, a tinge of sympathy in her tone. “It’s sad that not all your stories can be taken as pure fact, given you came into this cycle two hundred years after the split…but you are far from damned, Irida.”
Irida chuckled, a broken sound. “You say that but it is hard to believe. I only know about the Prume from what my mentor taught me, and even then, I doubt some of the details after centuries of pondering it in my heart.”
A spark of curiosity lit Butter’s eyes. "The artifacts you used to corrupt the valley’s waters—that’s not your specialty, is it? I can tell they’re not operating anywhere near capacity.”
Irida’s eyes darkened. “No…it was the Prume’s specialty.” Her voice cracked, the fear and desperation finally breaking through. “What salvation can you offer someone like me? We’re nearing our final generation. Many souls have dissolved into the void already, where I cannot reach…destroyed. I cannot even sense their life anymore. They’re just…gone.”
Butter giggled lightly, her tone filled with dark amusement. “Oh, sweetie. You’re mistaken!”
“What?”
“Intelligences cannot be destroyed, or even created for that matter! If pushed to its limit and its soul dispands, the Intelligence—the little, ‘hey, I’m me’ part—will slip into the afterlife, whatever that means here—spirit or not.”
Irida’s body sagged, tears streaming down her cheeks. “They’re not… I did not destroy my people and gods? That’s…that’s wonderful to hear. There’s hope then. We aren’t…lost.”
Uncrossed her legs and rising gracefully, light danced in her aquamarine eyes. “You’re in luck, Irida,” she said with an almost too-casual smile. “You’ve done so much in your lifetime to save your people, and learning how to channel that force is going to save you. But now…I’m going to be your salvation. And it all starts here.”
She extended her hand, pointing directly at the skeletal remains in the corner. “To become stable, I need to tether my spirit and Intelligence to that body. It will accept me—oh, it will—through my power, it will unite with me and evolve into something far grander.”
Irida’s body trembled but determination followed as she forced herself to stand. “And after that?” Her voice wavered, but Butter could see the fire still burning in her eyes. Even after all the wear and tear, she hadn’t broken yet. That deserved a little credit, at least.
Butter’s grin while stretching out her artificial body. “After that? Well, I’ll show you what awe a true being of conquest can achieve.”
Her fingers danced lightly over the Eye of Utelira, pulling it from her dress and holding it up for Irida to see. The toad woman’s eyes widened in sudden, absolute terror, her voice cracking. “You—You can’t mean for me to touch—to touch Utelira’s soul?! I’ll be vaporized! I’ve only siphoned off power from her through other artifacts.”
With a soft snicker, Butter stepped forward and tapped Irida on the forehead, her touch gentle but suffused with holy energy. The woman’s golden skin brightened with living fire.
“Oh, no need to worry, sweetie. It’s simple, really. I just need to trick Utelira into thinking you’re me by infusing a little bit of my spiritual force into you. A mask, of sorts.” Her smirk was sly, knowing, even when she didn’t quite understand all the details; pieces of her past life were filling her with knowledge like droplets of pure water leaking out of a cracked vase. “Now, let’s begin.”
As Butter ceased channeling the jewel, the barrier around them dimmed, now relying on the power she’d stored in the weapons she’d taken from Irida’s home. Golden light shimmered across the stone floor, drawing the space tighter around them. She knelt beside her twin’s corpse before pulling her liquid-like hair over her shoulder and lying down.
Who knew, all those many weeks ago, you’d be donating your body to me in order for me to become whole… I’ll return the favor, Sister. Thank you. I’ll be number one. And I’ll work as hard as I can until I’m there, never give in until I’ve proven that I’m your equal, Priss… I just hope you let me in when that happens because I don’t want any fake love… I want the real thing.
Irida’s breath caught in her throat, slowly approached the body, her hand hovering over Butter’s chest. “I…hope you know what you’re doing, High Queen,” she whispered, fear threading through her voice as her fingers shook.
“Never look back, only forward until I prove I belong! No regrets,” she said with a bright grin. “And I love everything I do. Life is good, Irida.”
With one final, shuddering breath, the holy toad woman pressed her palm against her chest, then laid her other hand over the bones of her twin.
Light exploded from the contact, blinding in its brilliance. Butter’s hair lifted, shimmering with a radiant glow as Irida’s power merged with hers, wrapping around the skeleton. The light seemed to consume the remains, reshaping them to the form of her spirit, pulling them together with a surge of Life Force. Holy energy flooded the room, powerful enough to make the air hum with the force and purify the stone, moss forming across the ground with dead seeds blooming in a colorful effulgence.
Butter’s world shifted, fading from the dark, ominous dungeon. One moment, the cold of Death Energy pressed against her, and the next—white. A brilliant, all-consuming white that engulfed her senses.
She blinked, her mind taking a second to adjust as the cold stone of the fortress was replaced by something entirely different, something…impossible. She stood now on the edge of a vast, planet-sized room, or, at least, that was the interpretation she had.
“What in the…” Butter trailed off, lifting a hand to shield her eyes from the blinding brightness reflecting off the surging, crystal-clear waters that seemed to stretch off into eternity. “Am I in…heaven?”
Pathways of smooth white stone crisscrossed the room, dotted with perfectly manicured gardens, radiating the most potent Life Energy she’d ever felt; it was…endless.
Her pulse quickened. The scale of it all made her stagger, an entire ecosystem thriving under a massive dome. She stood still, stunned by the sheer grandeur of the place she must have entered.
This is impossible. It…feels like the heavens. I can’t feel Elinor or the others in the Nexus, as if…I’m disconnected from reality. What is this?
A young woman’s voice came from behind her, casual, almost annoyed. “You’re blocking the rays, sweetheart. Could you move to the left? Oh…it’s you. You finally made it.”
Butter’s brow furrowed, curiosity replacing the shock as she turned. Her aquamarine eyes narrowed at the source of the voice—a young woman, maybe in her late teens, lounging on a sun chair, wearing a bikini, her purple hair tied up in a messy bun, and a small mirror pointed at herself. Sunglasses rested lazily on her nose.
Unable to help the smile that pulled at her lips, one hand resting on her hip, Butter asked, “Rays? And what rays are you speaking of?”
The girl didn’t even shift her head, but with a lazy flick of her wrist, she pointed upward. The ceiling—once a dark, imposing black—vanished. Instantly, Butter was hit by a blast of bright, golden sunlight, so intense she winced and threw up a hand to shield her eyes.
“Esh… Cute trick,” Butter grumbled, lowering her hand as her grin widened. “Alright, I’ll bite. Who are you, mysterious lady?”
With a leisurely sigh, the girl set down her sun reflector and tilted her sunglasses down just enough to peer over the top of them with striking violet eyes. “Nungal,” she chuckled, pushing the shades up onto her head and rising to her feet with a fluid grace. “Congratulations, by the way, on getting your body back. I was rooting for you! Now you can finally start putting points into your own Feats and break away from your annoying doom lord of a twin. She’s got a little catching up to do, but that won’t last long and you kind of cheated with Utelira and all.”
Butter’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second. “Cheated? Difference of opinion, darling. You…know my twin?” she asked, her curiosity piqued. “What is this about?”
Nungal tossed her sunglasses to the side, slid off the chair, and stretched her arms high over her head. Her bikini shimmered in the bright sunlight before being replaced by a sleek, comfortable robe. Her purple hair fanned out behind her, catching the light as she turned to face her with a fierce and smug grin.
“Follow me,” she said, her voice dripping with a playful command. “We should talk while we’ve got the chance. Maybe we’ll go for a dip in the Life Stream!”
Butter’s own grin widened to match the girl’s energy. She fell into step beside her, eyeing the confident way Nungal moved—trained, precise, and…perfect—the rebellious gleam in her eye that Butter found…familiar. There was something about her that felt like a somewhat kindred spirit—like an unruly teen who’d broken every rule just for the fun of it.
“So,” Butter slowly began, her voice lilting with a teasing edge, “I’m up for almost anything, but what surprise are you planning for me? Would a name be on the menu for where we are?”
Nungal’s chest shook with silent laughter, and without missing a beat, she pointed down at the floor. “Here? Oh, you know where you are, goldilocks… You’re in Irkalla!”
Butter’s grin froze, the name sending a jolt through her chest.
Irkalla… The name of Priss’ night elf past life?
Those vivid memories flashed through her mind like lightning, casting a shadow over the brightness of the room. She took a slow breath, forcing herself to keep her composure, even as her thoughts raced, and now that she looked closer, she knew for a fact…she could not fight this being, whoever she was.
Meanwhile, Nungal simply formed a new pair of sunglasses in her hand, slid them onto the bridge of her nose with a teasing grin, and began to walk again. “Come on, Heavens’ Bane. Let’s hangout for a bit.”
“Interesting nickname…”
Butter’s vision narrowed slightly, the weight of Nungal’s words and insurmountable power sinking in. Irkalla? What’s the connection? Am I…deep inside my sister’s soul, or is this place separate? Fascinating…
Her mind buzzed with questions, but one thing was clear—this wasn’t going to be an ordinary conversation, and she was here for it! Whatever secrets Nungal held, Butter was more than ready to pick them apart.
And so, with a flick of her golden hair, she followed Nungal deeper into the blinding light, her curiosity burning hotter than ever.
“So, can I get some of those fashionable sunglasses?”
Nungal snorted, lifting up a hand to form a new pair. “Through all your lives, one thing has never changed… Your vain hunger for looking good.”
Giggling and accepting them, she slid them on with a smirk. “Oh, please! You can’t stand on a soap box when dressed like that. For a queen, fashion is a way of life. As the human kids say back at camp, YOLO!”
“Pfft!” Nungal shook with laughter. “Now that’s an ironic saying from you!”
“Right?! I love it.”