Vec
TimemasterSheer scale was all that saved the Mangrove, and even that was a rapidly depleting bastion of safety for the ecosystem. Lines of white were passing over the cloud forest. A final fog that hid smoke at its heart, left in its wake nothing more than filthy ashen water. Acrid rain drizzled from the smog.
Maybe one day it would be resurrected. For now, its Lord could not afford to mourn the cataclysm.
Beneath the last untouched enclave of growth in the wetland, Heartworm lay naked in the water before the yawning, sucking maw of the Blood Well. Its vehicle, draped in mistletoe and painted with ochre, walked semi-autonomously into the chasm and sank, limp, blind. Stark whiteness dissolved it, a masterwork sacrificed.
An unclean thing performing an unclean act, the Emaciator's worm-eyes had been painted with khol, grey rags tied around its tail. Around the lip of the submarine pit, where fronds of algae did not dare to grow, pyres of cedar burned. An ancient censer smouldered with the scent of thornberry, its psychedelic vapour hanging in the brine, illuminated by the impossible flame. A thing that had once been a spirit pounded a drum with its hands of mud. The sound was shortened, dampened by the water.
There was a voice, singing to that beat. Too pure for the heathen light.
"Sanád asrer ad shin, shin,
List ashok istam ïssun."
Eight pyres, seven of them alight. One each for the moons that still shone in Galbar's sky. Lex's pyre was in two halves. At the base of the seven each lay a membranous bubble, the outline of limbs and overgrown umbilicus faintly visible through the pink.
Heartworm slithered counter-clockwise around the pit thrice, prostrate, starting from true east. It finished at the base of a lit pyre, unzipped its mouth and stretched impossibly long, thin hands and eyestalks. One of those hands gripped a bone knife that lay amongst the cedar, and birthed the sleeping figure from its amnion.
A male child, human. Heartworm nicked its left ear to make sure it was awake, and stabbed it before it could drown. It signed rune into the boy's forehead as the body slid into the pit. The pyre extinguished itself abruptly, expelling its smoke into a writhing cloud above the blood well.
Five times Heartworm repeated the process, offering six more lives, extinguishing seven pyres. Cogitare, Vigilate and Scitis, Auricolour, Periditus, Lex, Mirus. Human, hain, urtelem, angel, goblin, ogre, insidie.
"Inod thak, onol urol.
Inod thak, oram urol."
The smoke above the well had coagulated into a vast viscous mass, so thick it was no longer truly fluid. As Heartworm watched, the oily murk drooped, as if weighed down, and began to drip. Tar flowed back down into the pit in copious sheets, draining from the shape that curled inside. First the starved outline of horn and bone. As more and more rolled from the thing, its outlines became those of sculpted muscle. A winged man with the head and hooves of a goat.
No blood had bought this demon. The slaughter was only part of the test. Heartworm had proved itself, not in sacrifice, but in the ways of ritual. The ability to learn a science not its own. It was no master. It had simply taken on the first meagre step of the initiate.
From the depths of the pit, a long dead voice whispered an inaudible, inarticulate thought.
T̏̅̆̍ͦ͘͏̲̼̭̪͉̰͓̤̦̦̰̬̹̼̣̦͖̳͢h̨͉̖̙̰͙̻͙͕̣͇͎̀ͧ̓̌ͩ͛͆ͤ̔́̕̕͢r̸̶̸̢̦̯̞̖̗̯̣̮̱͓̻ͥ̾ͪͭ̆͊̄͊̾ͣ̋̓͌̃ͨ̎͢e̡̹̻̹͍̗̻ͨ̃ͪ́ͨ̃̽͐̓̀ͨ̓͊ͥ͢s̢̢͉̪̮͍̀͗͋̂̾ͧͩ̎͗͐̉̚̕h̸̗̖͖̥̻̺̤͒̅ͯ̔̉̏̽̈́ ̶̨̻̘̖̠̜̙̝͒̒̉͊̿ͥ̀ͪ͊ͪ̊̚͡ͅt͒̿̎͊̅͊̅͌҉͙̦͕̺̯̝͓̘̪̳̬͓̗̫͈͓̰͍̥h̍̑͒ͪ̓̄̾͐̏͗҉̫͇̘̺̤̝̥͙͉͍͞ȩ̶̎ͧ̊͏̝̙̙̠͇͈̼̹m̷̵̧̲͇̺̯͚̞̱̰̖̭͙͉̱ͨ͛̔̒ͤ̒́̇̓ͯ̏ͮ̀ͤ̀,̵̛͈̥̻̥̀ͦͯͦͪ̋ͨͨ̏̀͒̾̿ͦͩ̚̚ ̘͚͓̠̮̳̺̩͇̼ͩ͊̿̏̏̌ͩ͢͜͜m̓͗ͨͩ̏ͮ̆̊͐͋ͦ̇̌̊̈́ͦ̆̚͏͏͙̤͕̠̬̘͕͕̞̞̜̳̼̗ÿ̴̢̟̲̙͔̲̪͛̈́̓͂̿ͥ̾̐͂̓̀͂̓̎̇ͭ̊́̚͟͠ ̶̶̥͉̜̤͚͖̳̱̩̗̘̞͇̭̍́͂ͤ̋̓͗̊͝ͅb̷̵̛͖͕͈͇̱̮͉̩̫̽̓͒̚ͅr̶̨̞̹̺͈̟̺̠̣̫̳͈͛̓̐̊̅ͩ̂̽ͧ͛̀͘ớ͉̹͙͔̹̗̰̹͔̊̽̎ͣ͛̑ͥ͟t̶̉ͨ̽̃ͦ̈́ͧͩ̎ͥ͒̈́̐̀̇̍̈́͛͏͈̠̼̯͚̭̜̦̖̗̘̹͎͘͢͡h̷͎̯̲̳̹̫̺͑͌̋̔̈ͫ̋̇̐̃ͭ̓̽͟͜͞e̢̧̡̜̰͈̣̫̺̩͕͕̠͈̝͔̥̯͊ͥ͒͑ͭ̀͘ͅͅrͫͤͨ̄ͯ̒̚͏̛̲̳̝̯̙̟͍̣̼̣̦̫̖͇͜.̛̛͔̙̼̟͎̓ͭͪ̊̓ͮ͐ͣ̀ͅͅ[
And the last embers of the ancient censer died.
...
In the still water, Heartworm sedated the demon, and dragged it to itself, knocking apart one of the soaked pyres, shedding the rags it had worn for the ceremony. Its spindly limbs were far stronger than they should be, and Heartworm quickly stowed its prize away in the hidden laboratory. The silt Sculptor rapidly followed it through the portal.
The Realta were nearing, and time was growing ever more precious. Despite everything, the singing Sculptor, Sel Na Uo Na Tay, was voicing one final verse above the water. Heartworm waited for him to follow. In those seconds, it found itself echoing the lull.
"Umom-lol, Umom-lol nåzom.
Nåzom, nåzom Umom-lol."
The Dark One, the Dark One dreams.
Dream, dream on, Dark One.
Maybe one day it would be resurrected. For now, its Lord could not afford to mourn the cataclysm.
Beneath the last untouched enclave of growth in the wetland, Heartworm lay naked in the water before the yawning, sucking maw of the Blood Well. Its vehicle, draped in mistletoe and painted with ochre, walked semi-autonomously into the chasm and sank, limp, blind. Stark whiteness dissolved it, a masterwork sacrificed.
An unclean thing performing an unclean act, the Emaciator's worm-eyes had been painted with khol, grey rags tied around its tail. Around the lip of the submarine pit, where fronds of algae did not dare to grow, pyres of cedar burned. An ancient censer smouldered with the scent of thornberry, its psychedelic vapour hanging in the brine, illuminated by the impossible flame. A thing that had once been a spirit pounded a drum with its hands of mud. The sound was shortened, dampened by the water.
There was a voice, singing to that beat. Too pure for the heathen light.
"Sanád asrer ad shin, shin,
List ashok istam ïssun."
Eight pyres, seven of them alight. One each for the moons that still shone in Galbar's sky. Lex's pyre was in two halves. At the base of the seven each lay a membranous bubble, the outline of limbs and overgrown umbilicus faintly visible through the pink.
Heartworm slithered counter-clockwise around the pit thrice, prostrate, starting from true east. It finished at the base of a lit pyre, unzipped its mouth and stretched impossibly long, thin hands and eyestalks. One of those hands gripped a bone knife that lay amongst the cedar, and birthed the sleeping figure from its amnion.
A male child, human. Heartworm nicked its left ear to make sure it was awake, and stabbed it before it could drown. It signed rune into the boy's forehead as the body slid into the pit. The pyre extinguished itself abruptly, expelling its smoke into a writhing cloud above the blood well.
Five times Heartworm repeated the process, offering six more lives, extinguishing seven pyres. Cogitare, Vigilate and Scitis, Auricolour, Periditus, Lex, Mirus. Human, hain, urtelem, angel, goblin, ogre, insidie.
"Inod thak, onol urol.
Inod thak, oram urol."
The smoke above the well had coagulated into a vast viscous mass, so thick it was no longer truly fluid. As Heartworm watched, the oily murk drooped, as if weighed down, and began to drip. Tar flowed back down into the pit in copious sheets, draining from the shape that curled inside. First the starved outline of horn and bone. As more and more rolled from the thing, its outlines became those of sculpted muscle. A winged man with the head and hooves of a goat.
No blood had bought this demon. The slaughter was only part of the test. Heartworm had proved itself, not in sacrifice, but in the ways of ritual. The ability to learn a science not its own. It was no master. It had simply taken on the first meagre step of the initiate.
From the depths of the pit, a long dead voice whispered an inaudible, inarticulate thought.
T̏̅̆̍ͦ͘͏̲̼̭̪͉̰͓̤̦̦̰̬̹̼̣̦͖̳͢h̨͉̖̙̰͙̻͙͕̣͇͎̀ͧ̓̌ͩ͛͆ͤ̔́̕̕͢r̸̶̸̢̦̯̞̖̗̯̣̮̱͓̻ͥ̾ͪͭ̆͊̄͊̾ͣ̋̓͌̃ͨ̎͢e̡̹̻̹͍̗̻ͨ̃ͪ́ͨ̃̽͐̓̀ͨ̓͊ͥ͢s̢̢͉̪̮͍̀͗͋̂̾ͧͩ̎͗͐̉̚̕h̸̗̖͖̥̻̺̤͒̅ͯ̔̉̏̽̈́ ̶̨̻̘̖̠̜̙̝͒̒̉͊̿ͥ̀ͪ͊ͪ̊̚͡ͅt͒̿̎͊̅͊̅͌҉͙̦͕̺̯̝͓̘̪̳̬͓̗̫͈͓̰͍̥h̍̑͒ͪ̓̄̾͐̏͗҉̫͇̘̺̤̝̥͙͉͍͞ȩ̶̎ͧ̊͏̝̙̙̠͇͈̼̹m̷̵̧̲͇̺̯͚̞̱̰̖̭͙͉̱ͨ͛̔̒ͤ̒́̇̓ͯ̏ͮ̀ͤ̀,̵̛͈̥̻̥̀ͦͯͦͪ̋ͨͨ̏̀͒̾̿ͦͩ̚̚ ̘͚͓̠̮̳̺̩͇̼ͩ͊̿̏̏̌ͩ͢͜͜m̓͗ͨͩ̏ͮ̆̊͐͋ͦ̇̌̊̈́ͦ̆̚͏͏͙̤͕̠̬̘͕͕̞̞̜̳̼̗ÿ̴̢̟̲̙͔̲̪͛̈́̓͂̿ͥ̾̐͂̓̀͂̓̎̇ͭ̊́̚͟͠ ̶̶̥͉̜̤͚͖̳̱̩̗̘̞͇̭̍́͂ͤ̋̓͗̊͝ͅb̷̵̛͖͕͈͇̱̮͉̩̫̽̓͒̚ͅr̶̨̞̹̺͈̟̺̠̣̫̳͈͛̓̐̊̅ͩ̂̽ͧ͛̀͘ớ͉̹͙͔̹̗̰̹͔̊̽̎ͣ͛̑ͥ͟t̶̉ͨ̽̃ͦ̈́ͧͩ̎ͥ͒̈́̐̀̇̍̈́͛͏͈̠̼̯͚̭̜̦̖̗̘̹͎͘͢͡h̷͎̯̲̳̹̫̺͑͌̋̔̈ͫ̋̇̐̃ͭ̓̽͟͜͞e̢̧̡̜̰͈̣̫̺̩͕͕̠͈̝͔̥̯͊ͥ͒͑ͭ̀͘ͅͅrͫͤͨ̄ͯ̒̚͏̛̲̳̝̯̙̟͍̣̼̣̦̫̖͇͜.̛̛͔̙̼̟͎̓ͭͪ̊̓ͮ͐ͣ̀ͅͅ[
And the last embers of the ancient censer died.
...
In the still water, Heartworm sedated the demon, and dragged it to itself, knocking apart one of the soaked pyres, shedding the rags it had worn for the ceremony. Its spindly limbs were far stronger than they should be, and Heartworm quickly stowed its prize away in the hidden laboratory. The silt Sculptor rapidly followed it through the portal.
The Realta were nearing, and time was growing ever more precious. Despite everything, the singing Sculptor, Sel Na Uo Na Tay, was voicing one final verse above the water. Heartworm waited for him to follow. In those seconds, it found itself echoing the lull.
"Umom-lol, Umom-lol nåzom.
Nåzom, nåzom Umom-lol."
The Dark One, the Dark One dreams.
Dream, dream on, Dark One.
