“By the Nectar, of the Dream, with the blood, for the vision,” the collective voices rippled throughout the chamber. “By the Nectar, of the Dream, with the blood, for the vision.”
The top half of the chamber was a spacious construct carved to be an inverted pyramid with a round 'top' and, instead of a point at the 'bottom', it was flat. From the very peak, blinding light poured through the gargantuan circular opening into the ancient place. However, it seemed that even the light knew better than to descend any further without caution, but to the photons' dismay, even they had been bested by apprehension. A couple dozen meters below the brilliant brightness, descending rows of widely-spaced, hollow, stone squares running along the enclosing walls acted as seating for the congregants. In tiered arrangements, the square stones descended until the final row, concluding at the center of the whole chamber. From the halfway point, a metal barricade low enough for an open view to the center – the deepest point. It squared around the opening plunge, preventing any unwanted, messy descents. Down in the hole, at the center of it all, a pedestal-like structure with restraining devices: chains bound to the floor, around his shoulders and legs; leather straps around my wrists and dense blocks tied to my limbs with rope. Just mild security.
That thing he was bound to, a large hexagonal construct with a flat top. A mix of cloaked figures, eldritch-dressed, and milquetoast-facade people. Down here, staring down at me in void hoods, more of those cloaked beings, a pair of the Warded Vultures, and Father looking up to the massive congregation watching us from above.
I found it all hazy and a blur. Not a drop of energy in my blood – not that it would prove fruitful with these chains around my wrists and ankles binding me to this cold, hollow stone bed… nor would I dare to rile up the Vultures again - especially not in this enigmatic state. To my mystification, it was as if my body was too heavy for itself and my skin was bruising, though discriminating between some change unbeknownst to me or the utter drought of energy of my aching body proved difficult. I knew better than to believe Father had left me well alone as the breath of death casted frostbite on my being, but finding the change seemed impossible. All I could focus on, at least barely, were the long threads binding together the hole in my chest marked in me by the Vire. Judging by the extreme pain in my back, right leg, and varying parts of my arms – I could only assume the stitches were in those places, too. They all felt so… heavy — but I was far too drained to bother. Father clapped his hands twice to the silencing of the crowd. Upon the collection concluding with ‘Vision’ for a final time, Father began.
“Devout followers; promoters; leaders; ideologues of the Dream. Today is a day which shall live on as a monumental point in the advancement of the Penumbra Undergrowth, for a new spartan will be born. This new warrior, bred in the depths of blood and raised through the seas of misery is to be a milestone we all aspire to. A prime example of many qualities we should all hold true: Indefatigability, stoutheartedness, stoicism, and – most important of all – fidelity.
Which is why you are all gazing upon this man comparable to Zeus in monumentalism. He who resides comfortably amongst my proudest of men: Viktor. Blood so fresh, a mind so inexperienced – yet a resolve unmatched in greatness. Though Untitled, time and time again Viktor has proven unfaltering creed to the cause, consistently determining his well-being second to its growth. Ever since his assimilation with the Penumbra Undergrowth as a child, he has fulfilled assassinations to headstrong combat with the greatest of powers, such as Blackvine Venya's corrupted, Grand Umbral Knight Villoven Vire. Thus at this very moment, the rising spartan, Viktor, will reap his well-earned reward: Evolution. Warded Vultures – ready the infusion devices, Hierophant Delvin – prepare the solution, and alas, champions of The Dream, do not simply hear, but listen for you are to play a pivotal role in this process. Majority wise, a great deal of you have never engaged in an Evolution due to the practically mythical event of such an extraordinary procedure. For the most devout and longstanding members present today, you are aware of the necessary actions. As for the remainder, you will all fall into an antiphony. Men of the congregation, you will begin the choir in the trail of the enchanted organ. Women of the congregation, my conducting hand will ignite your voices at the appropriate moment. Spare no insecurity over the shortcomings of your tones – this chamber will amplify the strength of your vocal cords. Blackvine Venya and Black Helion Orix will be guiding your minds to the appropriate notes and pitches with their enchanted instruments while leading the orchestra played by some Seers. Now that the fog has been cleared, formulate and finalize any last preparations. Warded Vultures, the device?”
The Warded Vulture pair stomped a confirming right foot. “It is ready, Paramount Hendricks.”
“Hierophant Delvin, the nectar?” Father eyed him in await for an answer.
“The heat is taking some time to liquify the nectar into a less viscous substance. Perhaps we should consult The Sun Dancer to apply some blaze to it…”
Hierophant Delvin grinned toothy as he faced Father. On the contrary, Father’s demeanor stoned into a fiery, raging grimace – one my eyes never thought they would get a lick of. For a brief moment, the weight of a dozen’s dozen optics lifted off of me, and moved on to bury Delvin beneath the force of horrified and consternated eyes. Their seers collapsed into that of a thousand celestial voids and combined into a sole dark mass, forming a singularity that crushed Delvin's soul for his aberrant utterance, binding great stones of ignominy to his ankles and sinking that pompous fool into the sea of abashed silence. That grave ignoramus fixed his mouth and mumbled low, “It— it’ll be heated soon… the syringes can be inserted…”
Should Father’s teeth grit any further, they’d surely shatter into a mass of dusty marrow. Instead, his chest rose and fell as he took a breath and returned to facing his congregation above. “Forgive the — abnormalcy. Vultures – administer the syringes to their respective positions: The left and right arm, the right and left thigh, and the chest,” he crept a slight rotation of the head to Delvin. “You load the device with the liquified nectar. Blackvine Venya, Black Helion Orix, you may begin on the organ upon the insertion of the injections. To ensure you all begin at a time of precision, I will signal with a raised arm.”
The Warded Vultures held opposing ends of the machine; one held the two metallic appendages around my upper body and the other at the end of my feet. They pulled it down steadily with a tortoise’s pace and a hawk’s eye, slowly but surely approaching my skin with those needles about as long as a branch and wide as an infant’s thumb. Struggle could find no reason in my body, thus it stayed in slumber. That is until those needles built for vastus’ pierced into my limbs and chest, and breached my bones like some famished creature sinking its jaws into a flimsy little animal. As I thrashed and howled, Father’s hand shot up like a beacon into air calling to the spirit of music, and that sociopathic ghost heeded his call.
A vocal droning took over the chamber with an organ soon following. As if possessed, the men began a guttural warble, rising to a tenor, and descending into their guttural drones again. As their voices began to rise for the third time, string instruments joined the percussion in a study strum. The hollow platform I was bound to began to vibrate with their powerful sounds, as did my blood and bones with the instruments’ and choir's dark basses. The tones built up to a rise in unison with the deep melody before hitting a sudden wall for a brief moment, bringing it all to a short silence. Then, in an airy eruption, the women were bewitched into a soprano, the men restarted their tenor, and the instruments danced along with the choir, all three groups’ noises prancing together to make formidable resounds that danced around this accursed chamber and sending my body into a foaming seizure. The Warded Vultures pressed down the metal further, staring me in the eyes with the black holes in their metal masks where eyes would be. The force they applied to keep the machine steady made their bodies bump and tug – or so I thought until I heard concealed giggling and bellowing guffaws echoing through their steel armor.
A dark gray fluid flooded each syringe, following through them from a deep vat. Along with the foam, blood began secreting from my mouth as my well of screams droughted. My pleas for Father’s rescue were empty for my throat ceased operation, leaving only my spinning eyes with enough power to only glance between the demented vultures giggling, the cloaked beings along with the Blackvine and Black Helion running mad on their instruments, the choir chanting their antiphony passionately, even until some lost strength and fell over the edge, splattering into a red, mushy mess on the ground. All the while, Father’s back was turned to me as his hands dipped and flailed in conducting motions to the musicians, who were guiding some eldritch energy to the choir. Inevitably, my body could no longer take such monstrous torment; my bones and blood went numb, my eyes rolled back, and a black cloud of peril devoured my mind. Emerging from it, a deep, aquatic abyss with beasts I’ve crossed before; The sadistic vultures, the titan Villoven Vire, and none other than my failing guilt manifesting itself to what it saw as retribution: the demon Viktor. They tore at my skin, ripped away my bones, all while howling with revolting satisfaction before plunging their fingers into my eyes, blessing me with blindness from this nightmare. However, in the final moments before the darkness, a smoky amorphous haze in the distance behind my demons began to form. It lingered for some time, slowly shaping a part of itself into some resemblance of a hand – then the void took over.
Unfortunately, I was given the privilege to wake up — again. A… a… a room much smaller than before; less overwhelming. It remained a place of smooth stone, some other place deep inside of some rocky formation. My whole self felt foreign. I didn’t feel like I belonged to myself anymore. Everything was so heavy – so dense. Lifting my arms was the equivalent of hauling a whale; moving my legs – trudging through mud. One of those cloaked people appeared over me, startling me, though I was physically unable to express my shock. It raised a finger with a bright yellow light appearing above the finger tip, earning a slow flinch from me – but a flinch nonetheless. “His vision seems to be functioning at least some,” it said with a masculine voice, though slightly nasally and airy in tone, “Slow reaction, but it may be the nectar-canic solution settling in his body still after your… special mixing procedure.. It appears the darkening veins in his eyes are just a side effect of color – hopefully it doesn’t progress to blindness, Father.”
“Rather unorthodox… Between that and the bulging dark ones running amok his body — it’s peculiar. What can you do to alleviate some of these ailments, Voideye Kullings?” Father inquired. No doubt it was him judging from the apathetic voice… although it seemed to have a bit more of a worrisome flavor in it.
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“I’m not particularly certain. As you said, this is very peculiar – strange. We haven’t seen such effects spur up from an Evolution process before – granted it is a procedure we’ve performed very little. I’m sorry, but I believe we’ll just have to wait and see. I believe it’s best to keep Viktor from engaging in any demanding physical exertions for the time being.”
“I’d have to align with your insight here. I never had to do this neither prematurely nor to this degree before, especially not after filling the spaces between broken bones with that metal; what a storm of misfortune. Assure his condition is adequate, minimum – we'll have to worry about proper resuscitation another time; I have an execution to satisfy with Qyvorn... Ugh, ‘Q’ – ridiculous, flamboyant letter... Keep Viktor feasibly healthy until my return."
"Yes, Father," the Void's Eye nodded. I couldn't formulate the image of Father departing, but he vanished from my hazed sight, seemingly into a wall. A sea filled my eyes I felt, but that sea turned out to be no more than a mirage. Still, I could not shake the feeling of a world's worth of water filling my burning optics. Kullings tapped my forehead twice. I could only tell by the motion of his finger. “Why do you gawk like a bedazzled bird?”
I reached for his neck and crushed his esophagus with all my might – at least so I dreamed. My limbs were still weighty and exhausted for basic motory, so all I could muster were feeble twitches and frustrated breaths. “Relax – you’re under enough stress as is. I have to continue running some tests — can you stare at that paper in the wall?”
“Let me move.”
His hood perked up with my demand, supplying me with enough context to figure out he was bemused. Kullings took some instrument and tapped a point below my kneecap for a reason I could not find. Never the matter, stupefaction did not kill our lust to see him splayed and guts spilled. However, our — my dysfunctioning limbs did put a barricade between me and my right to this slay. Kullings once again had the audacity to mock me with his tongue, “Your patellar tendon doesn’t seem to be functioning… Obviously, that shouldn’t be the case. The infusion really seems to be taking extremes on you, Viktor. I beckon for your forgiveness – I have a test to run…”
Not a clue did I have – frankly neither did I care. All I knew was that I did not want to be here. The cloaked Kullings rose his finger and, instead of a ring of light, brought about a small flame dancing above a fire circle. He directed to my right arm and steadied his finger. I was given a brief glance at his face thanks to the flame’s emitting light. Features of scars, bruises, and heterochromic eyes; a bizarre yellow and white, left to right. The fire bit my skin in one sharp sear, causing me a violent jolt – and a sigh of relief from Killin– Kullings. “Good,” he breathed, “at least your nerves weren’t killed off. We’ll have to figure out the extent and ails of your ligaments another time – but now it’s best you rest— what? Already?”
Some bright orange light grew in the room, obnoxious enough to irritate my eyes. Not an idea of where its accursed source could be found, but all I knew was that my arm burned excruciatingly. I lifted it and banged the limb against the side of this bed of stone foundation until the searing pain went away, but that only seemed to make it worse. Then pause met me as I processed; I regained use of my arm, though it was still a daunting task to move anything else. Not only this – the veins of the limb glowed with yellow and orange, as if run with ichor. Saliva dripped from my mouth as I gawped like a dumbfounded fish, admiring the brilliant glow of my arm. Some old words soon crashed into me, and an echo of Viktor giggling within. “‘Olympus will fear me… I will become a high-tiered god…” I mumbled in astonishment.
“Fantastic! It’s as if it was meant to be!” Kullings bellowed with excitement – something I haven’t heard in… years. That loud, annoying man continued something that sent a chilling blade through my spine. “It seems Father did indeed know best! Many of us had doubts, but it is no wonder he’s the most renowned out of the Paramounts! To do something so drastic, so… so insane, so — so extraordinary! And to have it work! That man shall go down in history as the greatest mind on this ball of dirt and rock! Oh, perhaps I shouldn’t be too excited… I can’t be sure the arcanium won’t have any adverse reactions in the future, especially with it in this abundance. The nectar should moderate it well enough, however, science is a study — and science changes quite often. We’ll just have to keep our many eyes uncomfortably close, won’t we?” he chuckled. “May Penumbra grant us eyes from its lock of escrowed dreams, mmhehemm… Rest, Viktor… you don’t want to be drowsy when Father hears of your hasty adaptation! Thou art a dreadful lion, a sorrowful thing, but a predator of the kill, nonetheless.”
The Void’s Eye pulled a bag from a pocket of his cloak and reached into it. A handful of some white powder drizzled from his grasp as he pulled out his hand. He grinned toothy with his tongue caught between his teeth and threw down the dust onto my face. My eyes burned terribly and my nose and throat stormed to blow out that substance. I wanted to tear out his tendons, but the majority of my body was still in slumber and my light-fused arm was quickly losing its power. My eyes soon began to darken and lose their strength. Kullings fell into a mantric chant, “Thou art a dreadful lion, a sorrowful thing, but a predator of the kill, nonetheless! The Nectar! The Nectar Oh, thank the Nectar! Why? Cause o’ the Dream! Oh the Dream, oh the Dream! Oh, soon to be!”
Arbitrary bouts of hideous laughter fell into his maddened chants, calling for me to puke, but my guts were not spared another moment to share its opinion, for before I knew it, my eyes had rolled to the back of my head – and I was out in the cold dead, once again. My internal eyes opened twice, with Viktor there against a wall covered in vines. “This is not what I meant… by becoming a god. But it is much better than what I had planned… Father is a genius,” the demonic treant abomination gloated.
“Why do you praise him? He’s a no good, washed up entity that needs to be felled. A tyrant that must be hung at the shoulder by wooden stakes,” I, for the first time, spoke to him… or this other me.
“Because, my great idiot, that is what we are. Besides position, the only difference between us and Father is that he doesn’t get the blood on his hands. Tell me – do you believe you have a chance elsewhere? Do you think they’ve forgotten about our little slay of that damned woman back a way’s way ago? Or even the old man we brutalized with a stone? Heh… it tickles me just thinking of it.”
“They wouldn’t know. How could they know? No one was around when we — I… you…”
Viktor grinned with orange teeth. “Oh? Vaccilant, are we? Having trouble deciding if I am to blame for slaying them, thus acknowledging our co-existence? Or, will you deny my presence once more, being forced to conclude that those euphoric events were all your doing? I don’t really care, either way. Unlike you, I’ve long accepted the truth – no matter how unfortunate it is to be one with you. While you continue sitting in that stinking pool of denial and desperately seeking a cheap way to convince yourself that you aren’t as great as us, I’ll avulse your little morals some more.”
“Stop talking! I’m not in denial of shit! I’m greater than you – greater than all of this terrible cult! I–I can find my own way through this world without chains! I–”
“Haha! Oh-ho yes, I’m sure–you–can, my fractious friend! Do you really believe those quarrelsome guards weren’t alacritous to fault you for the plasma wench’s demise? And no doubt that saggy, walking skeleton beyond the kingdom’s gates was found rotting in the sun! It truly would be no trouble for them to put two and two together and find us as the culprit! ‘The little boy in rags and dirt strolled into our home with some savior woman of terrible acting, coming to his rescue! Next thing you know, she ends up with her head on backwards like a misplaced doll! Oh, and we found a corpse down the road too! I’m sure he had nothing to do with it!’
Don’t be stupid, you capricious cockshit. Don’t even think that you’re unrecognizable since all those years ago… Well, on second thought, you’d be right – with how trashed up you look these days, no one from those seven years ago would remember that youthful face and think of this hot pile of shit before me. But you seem to forget how irritable we can be since you don’t like to cooperate; our ass would be detained and executed faster than a fish can piss. Get your head out your ass, our only hope is staying with them if we don’t want to be killed soon. Oh yeah, speaking of freeless cooperation, unfortunately something else is dawning right now. Just more damn space being taken from me. Doesn’t matter much now, the only thing that does is you desperately needing to pull it together, because things are only going to make you even more querulous – somehow. Now – do not piss off Father. He will be jubilant to see where we stand now. Piss him off, and I’ll have your ass, kid. Need I reiterate? Do — not — harry—”
“I’ve warned that brain-cumbered drooling cur on several occasions to watch his humor deficient tongue, especially during an event as significant as the Evolutionary infusion.”
Some bassy voice laughed in his throat. The deepness of his tone spurred the image of a giant in my halfway unconsciousness. “Twas only a matter of time, Paramount. Only a matter of time.”
“Of course, but the fool not only uttered a jest so dry and humorless, he uttered of — it. That inimical solar titan… Making a one-liner out of a horrid divine entity. May Delvin’s head rot with maggots — ah, Viktor. You have arisen — good.”
My skin ran with chills – though I could not discriminate if it were from my rage with this man managing to realize I was no longer in a slumber, or if it truly were some frigid climate we were consumed by. I judged by observing the other bald bastard, who caught me off guard when I found him to be in some casual attire I haven’t seen in times which felt like mimicking decades since being here. His dark legs were exposed to some nauseating light, as were his arms. My stomach called to take a chunk out of his leg, but Father’s attitude towards him rather easily overrode such desires. “You had me worried, Viktor,” Father said, “Off in the dreamlands for nearly 192 hours, you were. Supplying you with water was rather simple – food on the other hand, was more challenging. No matter – we’ll simply take this as an opportunity. Shaded Qyvurn, may you oil Viktor’s joints? Acustom him to his augmentations, if you may.”
The bald man stood from some red couch, which I was left to believe were exclusively indoor pieces of furniture. I only questioned this upon realizing we were outside in some forest on a foundation of wood, yet there was also some beige trying to have itself noticed behind the distant trees. Shaded Qyvurn rose from the red sofa, twisted his arms, and stretched his legs. “Of course, Paramount Hendricks,” the man of mighty muscle and decades-grayed eyebrows tapped his foot. He began, “Young man – are you starved? With all those bones basically protruding from your skin, I find it hard to believe that you are a spirit of bellicose. I’ll make you an offer – a deal which shall quell my concerns, and satiate you.”
I sought to ignore him, but as the obsequious one he is– we a— I am, I spared some attention to him, mostly from fear of Father. The bushy browed man continued, “Cause me to sweat and I’ll bring you the greatest feast you never knew you desired. A meal so extraordinary, you’ll mistake yourself for royalty. Food so great, you’ll realize you were never truly awake. A repast so vast, triumph will reign your guts, a feel which shall last until this world turns to glass. Do we have a deal, or do you back out in fear? Were these tales I’ve heard of you just that – stories? Fabricated fiction to glorify a fly?”
Over a decade of nothing but scraps and rats, you best stand up. You’d be an idiot not to, Viktor, he coaxed me, very much realizing that I am the boss in the end – though he still doesn’t utter my name… a thing which slips from memory further and further as the days go. In capitulation to my stomach and trepidation of a punishing Dunk should I refuse, I rose in a symbolism of acceptance — though deception from Qyvurn is very much expected. I stood on flimsy, yet heavy, legs with a frigid pain still flowing through the blood and stinging my bones. His white teeth revealed themselves in a grin and he nodded. “Good, if you are as pugnacious as they say – come then, starving beast. Earn the coveted, flavorful feast.”