I run through the halls for as long as my legs will carry me.
The new structure spirals in inscrutable pattern, doubling back, looping in on itself, or leading to dead end or bottomless pit. Yet I run deeper and deeper, taking any turn or new entry way I come across in an attempt to evade my inevitable pursuers. I run as a man in fear for his life, until at last my body refuses to weather the abuse any longer and collapses on the floor of some small chamber.
I lie panting, caked with mud of dust and sweat. I stare up into the ceiling and see it fold and twist into the dark like frozen smoke. I realize the significance that this place is indeed dark, and it is not like the ever-flat surface of the city of stone. Instead, there is a dull illumination that is pervasive, but not all encompassing. It seems to be coming from the dust.
The dust, and myself.
I sit up, recovered enough to at least move against a wall or corner. Using the dim light, I examine what I can of my surroundings. The ground and walls are jagged and rough like the pathway leading into the entrance. Again, in contrast to the city, this place seems to offer no illusions of welcoming design. I am in a hostile place.
I shuffle on all fours to the edge of the chamber, stone raking against my hands and knees. Propping myself against the wall, I examine the damage inflicted upon me.
My arms are wet and raw, wounds oozing where the creature's tendrils had restrained me. They sting to the touch, and I quickly give up on my attempts to clean them, as in my escape I have become thoroughly coated by the dust that flows like water through every inch of this new space.
While my arms burn, and my robes are lost, I count myself lucky for escaping at all and permit a moment of further respite. I listen in the gloom for any sign that the creatures pursue me, as I am certain their hesitation on the threshold must have been temporary, but I hear no approach.
This new space is not silent, however. In the darkness I hear a slow, steady pulse. It maintains a consistent rhythm, and with each beat the dust is slightly stirred.
The physical toll of my journey thus far accumulates all at once without warning, and my fatigued mind aches for rest. The rhythmic pulse becomes almost hypnotic, and my head nods. I fight desperately to stay awake, as I have no clue what horrors may yet lurk in these halls, but I lose the struggle.
Defeated, I pull my undershirt up against my face to shield from the dust, and let my eyelids fall. I sleep without dream.
Some time later, I wake with a gasp, choking on the polluted air and sending myself into a coughing fit. I remember where I am, and check for any looming threat. Nothing else seems to have disturbed this place while I slept, though I cannot be certain. Even my own footprints from my approach have been erased, filled in by the ever changing tide of dust.
My body still aches from the trials it has undergone, but I feel rested enough to continue onward. I know I cannot return to the threshold of the structure, into the domain of those creatures from before.
I must continue deeper.
I traverse the maze without direction. The walls are worn and pocked with erosion, run haggard through timeless exposure to the currents of dust and sand blowing through the halls. They appear almost as wood devoured by insects, or desiccated hives.
I would be entirely lost in this space were it not for a subtle guide I began to heed. With each distant pulse, the dust is shifted slightly, but always in the same manner. Even through walls, or when force should be funneled by the webbing of tunnels, the dust always moves in the same direction. With this in mind, I am able to at least keep my orientation anchored to a single unseen point.
However, this does not mean my journey is straightforward. I am often forced to turn when encountering impassable walls or chasms. Often I will move through crawlspace on hands and knees, only to come into an empty room with no exit. I find similarity to the city of stone in the layout of this labyrinth at least, if not in its visual appearance.
Paths slope upwards and lead to overlooks above pathways still marked by my faint footprints. Once, I climbed into a pit that seemed to lead forward, but found the passage ended a short distance into the dark. With great difficulty I scaled the pit once more, falling out of its mouth with bruised knees and bleeding hands. I resolved to avoid further descents.
I rest often, and slowly my strength is recuperated. In the darkness of these caverns I am unsure how long I sleep, but bit by bit, I recover from the wear of my journey thus far.
Eventually, the low glow of the dust and my own flesh is joined by additional source. Faint light bouncing through the passages from the same direction of the pulsing waypoint. Soon, shafts form in the spaces between walls as the dust is caught as dancing flecks of gold, swaying to the metronome in the slivers of light.
The caverns open from hallways into antechambers crossed by bridge and arch far above my position. The pulse intensifies, and the subtle shifts in the dust become waves, crashing against me and rising as spray to wreath my diminutive form.
I walk into grand halls of long dormant giants, towering doorways stretching into passages that narrow into webs of stone. What grand leviathans the hewn openings must have accommodated. I shudder to think what would happen if they wandered here still.
I push on against the tide of dust, beset by crashing walls that pass over me thoughtless to my obstruction. I pull my undershirt against my face and squint against each oncoming assault. The pulse becomes an invisible fist, and I resonate with each strike.
At last, I emerge from the halls into the space from which the light emanates. My eyes adjust for a moment, still blinking away dust, before gaining my bearings.
I stand in awe of this new space. A single, massive cylindrical passage that stretches above into darkness, and below for staggering depth before curving beyond my sight. The space between opposing walls seems to be hundreds of meters across. Individual floors mark position along the passage, and I stand upon one such break. I feel as if I have entered into the heart of some infinite tower, or stand upon the wall of an upturned tunnel that ferried gargantuan freight.
The interior here is bright, blinding almost. There is no singular point of illumination, and again, the surfaces seem to be the source of their own glow. The pulse I have been tracking does not emanate from here either. I see it approach as cloud of tumbling dust from far above, and feel
its weight crash upon me as it continues its path through the cylinder into the depths below. The force is enough to weaken my knees and steal the breath from my chest. The rain of dust is sucked into the passages I left behind, flowing into their dark hollows.
But the most perplexing feature of this new space are the large pillars that spin in suspension on level with each floor along its length. The pillars are of the same stone as the rest of this labyrinth but they float without tether, rotating along the length of each overlook. Some are short, some are so long that they grind as millstone against their paired floor, and others are merely body-sized blocks that twirl wildly alongside their solid companions as shards of once great monoliths, still following some inscrutable path.
What purpose they serve, I cannot know. Fans to stir the dust? Bridges to cross the expanse on each floor, long since sent spiraling off-kilter by the consistent pulse? Or, most likely, more meaningless chaos in this place of dreams.
Once I visited the salvage yards on Europa to watch the disassembly of an Orokin Tower vessel to learn the composite parts integral to facilitating Void Travel. Its stranded form in the icy wastes evoked the image of some beached leviathan, the pallor of its cold porcelain exterior blending into the sleet. I watched as Orokin salvage drone dissected the corpse from within, scalpels of light peeling the tower flesh from arboriform skeleton and dissolving the gristle meticulously from around the filigree veins. They carved grand passages through its length not unlike the one I stand in now, hollowing tunnels that sang somber refrain as the Europan winds turned wreckage into instrument. These constellations of stone remind me of the gilded star-like shapes of the servitors, spinning lazily through the exsanguinated ventricles as they carried out their grim task.
I become so lost in thought that it takes me several passings of the wave before I even notice the hulking form that approaches me. Whether it was always lurking on this level or merely emerged from some other passageway, I do not know. I hear its grinding movements in the calm between storms and my heart sinks. I know what it portends.
I encounter another horror.
It is humanoid, though it is hunched over and pulls itself on bended knee as it travels. The grounded leg leads into a twisted misshapen lump where a foot would be, and the gnarled limb drags worthlessly behind. It hauls itself in slow, staggered lurches, further encumbered by the bizarre ring of quicksilver to which it is yoked. The wheel is covered in feather down of sharpened filigree around its edge, glowing with faint cyan tracery. On the face of the wheel opposite its prisoner, metal spires tick and whir with unknown purpose, moving forward and backward without reason. Pistons and levers churn with latent energy in the exposed guts of the wheel's spokes, waiting to be engaged.
The titan does not wield the wheel, it is pierced by it. Its arm, punctured by one of the spokes as if it were suddenly sprouted from bone. The strength required to maneuver such a device must be monumental, and the physique of the beast matches the effort. It is a form wrought of the same smooth marble as its predecessor horrors, but shaped to chiseled musculature that pulses with subtle veins along its skin. Along its unburdened flank, two additional arms are outspread to balance its movement. The hands stir patterns in the air, and fingers flex into arcane gesture.
Where head would sit, there is instead a blunt oblong brick, pale root-veins digging into the shoulders and securing it atop the frame. Senseless. Unfinished like the broken statue I first met upon the threshold of the dream. Faint patterns are worn into its polygonal surface, though I cannot discern their meaning.
As it approaches I am horrified by its size. Even while genuflect it towers above me, and my head barely reaches its leaning chest. Were it to stand fully upright it could crush me underfoot without effort.
My interest in the titan flares for only a moment before common sense wins out. I remember my encounter with the beasts in the empty and will not fall prey to lack of caution again. My body rested, I have no doubt I can evade this beast with ease, even if it means retreating into the maze of darkness once more. I will find some new route to traverse this tower. I turn to flee.
But before I can even make first footfall, the titan speaks.
"You break and split, your form betwixt.
Find foot and ground as stone.
Heed law, unwrit.
Atone."
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I hear a thunderous clap, and every nerve throughout my body flares as a sharp, piercing sensation tears through me. I gasp in reflex and fall to the ground. I feel no wounds, but I do not waste time to examine myself fully. Adrenaline courses through my veins and I push through the agony, scrambling to my feet and attempting to flee once more. I look back at the beast, hoping to anticipate and evade the method of its next attack.
With great effort the titan engages the device. The wheel spins and interlocking coils of metal shift in response. The device produces a deep, profane chime, and the beast bellows once more.
"Nascence.
The first offense.
The gravest of all sins."
The titan brings its two free palms together, emitting another devastating clap, and the air shudders. I lose all sensation in my limbs and my mind goes blank, collapsing in a limp, sobbing heap. Confusion overwhelms me and I cry out in desperation. I attempt to form words, but they only come forth as a meaningless warble. My head lolls around aimlessly, eyes wide, staring as dust and light smears into the impression of form. I feel my mind drain into nothing, like water through a sieve.
"Consume the fruit of sense, form wall as blind and mute.
Sprout dream and fear from root sprung life-limb taut.
Metamorphic argute foundling.
The second of your sins.
Burgeon and want.
Portent."
The titan lifts its wheel and slams it against the floor with the entirety of its weight. The chamber shakes, and dust falls around us before being swept away in the path of another pulse cascading from above.
Suddenly I am revitalized, a great surge of energy coursing through me. My pain subsides and I leap to my feet with ease before I even have time to think. I look over myself, and not only do I lack wounds from the beast's previous attack, I lack any wounds at all. No cuts or scrapes from crawling through the halls of gloom, nor the raw lash marks across my arms from the creature in the expanse. I feel as if I have awoken from the most rejuvenating rest in my entire life.
I stare in confusion. Is this beast benevolent? Were its prior attacks just some strange form of bitter medicine?
The titan engages the wheel once more. The metal arms of the device whirl and shudder, and the internal mechanics begin to emit pale silver smoke. The beast points at me with all three of its untethered hands, accusingly.
"Calcify and hollow.
Empty eye and fading lamplight.
Regret, reform, resign to path as writ.
The sin of silent close, to starve the dream.
Paths join as one, become the line, ablate prospect."
The beast forms fist with its hands and slams them against the stone, fragments split from the impact and ride the currents of dust that billow forth. The exhilaration from its previous speech fades, and I feel my body returning to its regular vigor.
But I am at neutral point for only a moment before I feel an invisible anchor weigh upon me. My arms and legs become heavy, and aches and pains blossom throughout my joints. My vision becomes unfocused, and sound loses its previous depth. I begin to feel tired. Lethargic. Spent.
If this is merely the natural recovery from whatever the titan did to me prior, I am in no mood to find out. I break away and head towards the caverns in the wall, and after only a short distance I feel my breath shorten from the exertion.
I hear another chime echo behind me, and my aching body trembles in response.
"The empty beckons you to sleep.
Form falters, naught but want.
The last of sins.
Instinct."
The violent sound of coiled metal shattering, a screeching metallic whip crack crossing the distance between me and my aggressor. Pistons snap and thunder as the device vomits plumes of flashing smoke. A cacophony of metal joined with musical tone as the beast tolls its arcane bell once more.
With next footfall, my leg radiates with a sudden pain. I cry out and fall to the ground. Energy is sapped from my form and I find that I lack the strength to even raise myself. My heart beats with a desperation I have never experienced. My mind fogs, and senses dull even further. Yet as my physical faculties fail, I am overcome with a deeper understanding.
The struggle of my bodily functions to work in concert, the dissipation of strength to impossible vacuum, the withdrawal of my mental acuity. I know without knowing.
I am dying.
I muster every ounce of remaining energy to roll and face the titan as it continues its measured pursuit.
"Please..." I say, my voice barely a whisper.
If it heard me, it makes no indication. Space dilates around its body, and the dust cascading through the chamber slows and halts in proximity, forming mantle of earthen tone around its bestial form.
"The final toll.
A break between the wall.
Grand sum is tallied, hand collects.
Return as dust to space you've never been."
With all three of its able arms, it grasps the wheel. Hairline fractures are drawn upon its pale body as it pushes itself to breaking point to perform its next maneuver.
The wheel tolls, but it is not of musical timbre. It emits a sound that extends beyond sound. Something that resonates with the intangible.
The space around the beast snaps back into temporal alignment, expanding with the accelerating dust to illustrate its boundaries.
The boundary rushes towards me.
My body fails. My flame, extinguished.
I pass into death.
But as I feel myself falling into a space beyond thought, I hear the beast's voice.
Its previous speeches were the sounds of mountains moving. A deep, primordial baritone that spoke as stone against stone.
I hear it now with the same imposing register, but with subtle song in place of grating stone. A lingering tone that rings as temple bell or funerary dirge.
It resonates with my lack-form, and I am drawn back across the boundary on its inexorable tide.
"The pause of breath between all that is yet to be
Is here, and now, and then at once and naught.
A new diverted path to tread.
To grow, and die, and seed.
Retract the wheel."
I return from the brink, screaming as my body is pulled back into waking. I have only a moment to even comprehend what has happened before the titan claps its hands.
"Nascence.
The first offense.
The gravest of all sins."
Again, I fall limp as the strength is robbed from my limbs. My mind, once more incapable of forming thought, useless to reckon with what I have just endured.
"Consume the fruit of sense, form wall as blind and mute.
Sprout dream and fear from root sprung life-limb taut.
Metamorphic argute foundling.
The second of your sins.
Burgeon and want.
Portent."
Another sundering crash as the titan slams wheel against floor. My mind and body are revitalized. With sudden clarity, I process the events and form an understanding. I brace for the next verse.
"Calcify and hollow.
Empty eye and fading lamplight.
Regret, reform, resign to path as writ.
The sin of silent close, to starve the dream.
Paths join as one, become the line, ablate prospect."
My theory holds true. The process from before is repeating. The titan slams its fists against the stone.
The torrent of life fades from my body, but with the last of its vestiges I charge the beast. A desperate attempt to halt the torment, and likely to fail, but I no longer have the capacity for deeper planning.
The titan makes no attempt to stop me as I approach, and with all of my strength I throw myself against it. Pain overwhelms me as I attempt to topple stone monolith with the paltry sum of my flesh. With ease, the titan lifts me off my feet and casts me through the air like a discarded toy.
The tunnel spins and I nearly black out from the combined strain of my futile attack and the disorientation of the titan's rebuke.
"The empty beckons you to sleep.
Form falters, naught but want.
The last of sins.
Instinct."
The recitation finishes midair and I impact as a being of paper and glass. I scream in pain as my fragile form is rent upon the jagged surface. I sob pitifully, blood pooling beneath my broken form. I welcome the final verse.
"The final toll.
A break between the wall.
Grand sum is tallied, hand collects.
Return as dust-."
Darkness takes my sense before the beast finishes.
"Nascence.
The first offense.
The gravest of all sins."
I am born anew. Unbroken. Worthless.
"Consume the fruit of sense, form wall as blind and mute.
Sprout dream and fear from root sprung life-limb taut.
Metamorphic argute foundling.
The second of your sins.
Burgeon and want.
Portent."
Mind sharpens on the arcane wheel and forms understanding. Attempting to reason with the beast is pointless, as is disrupting it with force. It is automaton. An agent of some grander design with no machinations beyond its purpose. I see the rotating stone arms in the center of the chamber. I feel the cascading pulse rush through the space on the same, unchanging interval. I see now I have been doomed from the moment I entered here.
I am chained to the wheel just as the beast that wields it.
I sprint away this time. I do not know what the extent of this cycle's influence is, but I resolve to push beyond it.
I head towards the chasm.
Another pulse rushes by as I approach the edge and the force halts me for a moment, grounding me. Even in my heightened state, I struggle with the next action. Should I jump onto the rotating arms of stone? Should I attempt to climb to a lower level using the weathered stone as handhold? Perhaps I should wait for another cycle and retreat into the caverns from whence I came?
Behind me, the titan begins to chant. I feel my limbs becoming heavy.
I look for foothold or safe landing on the floors below. Anything that might offer a way out.
I look up to the floor above for some sort of surface I might climb to ascend, and see something that shatters any thoughts that may have been forming.
I see myself, staring back in confusion.
I look further up along the shaft and see similar sights. Mirrors of myself in various states, all poised along the edge of their respective wheel.
Below, with better vantage, I see yet more scenes of my torment. My puzzled face staring up at me. My body lying broken as the beast gesticulates wildly above it. My face twisted with pain. My maddened flight to escape from the assault. My pathetic attempts to wield flesh against stone.
In the infinitesimally small span between moments, a thought is born. Without any way of truly knowing, I realize that we all stand at an impasse. A moment before decision. We are all potential that exists on the threshold of is and is not.
I know we have all come to the same conclusion.
I refuse to be the one unwritten.
I move before any of my peers can act in my place, leaping forward between the rotating pillars of stone and into the wake of another roaring pulse.
I fall into the abyss.
KHRA [https://i.imgur.com/jzDXL7X.png]