The Creators Ch. 11

"Where have they gone?" I asked a nearby elf. She inclined her head toward the door at the back of the box. I took one last look over my shoulder. Astrid had picked her mother off the ground, and was walking mechanically toward the tunnel. Her head was bowed, her wings drooped, and her feet dragged along the sand. The crowd tossed rose petals upon the slouched shoulders of their champion, and she disappeared into the darkness without an upward glance. Tera looked up at me from the center of the arena, a question in her violet eyes. The question slowly turned to realization, then to accusation. I just nodded. There was no use denying it. I turned away from them, and walked into the dim halls beneath the stands. I heard the faint sounds of cries. As I walked, the sound grew louder, more distinct, but no more recognizable. It was a woman's voice, as tortured as it was ecstatic, crying out a combination of protest and euphoria. It brought back memories of yesterday, and a chill crept up my spine. I set my jaw and continued.

Julia was resting against a door, holding one hand over her mouth as she pushed the other between her legs. Her bent knees rubbed together below her pressing thighs, her cock stood proud and leaking from her crotch, and her face was turned sideways to lend one ear to the door. A single emerald eye caught me, and her face whipped around.

What are you doing here? Julia mouthed at me.

Freydis? I mouthed back. Julia cocked her head in confusion. She didn't know. Who's in there? I mouthed.

Night Eyes, Julia mouthed back.

No shit. Who else?

Julia just shook her head, and tried to shoo me away. "Too dangerous!" she hissed. "Go back!" A scream sounded from behind the door, and there was no pleasure in it now. Only pain.

"Julia, what the fuck is going on?" I whispered, closing the distance between us.

"It's none of your business, Lucilla!" Julia growled. I cringed back at her ferocity, and Julia looked away, pressing her ear to the door. There was a horrific screech, a wet sound, and then the low cackle of Willowbud's laughter. Julia bit her lip, her eyes rolled up, and she began stroking herself, using her juices as lubricant. She undulated against the door like there was a man behind her, and began gasping sensually with each tortured shriek of the woman on the other side. No... no, not again! Julia didn't even have black in her eyes. I marched toward the door, watching Julia's gaze turn from lust to alarm in a second. She blocked my way, and slapped my hand when I reached for the knob. A shrill sob cut through the air, followed by the bleating aftershocks of pain. My eyes fixed on Julia's, and hers fixed on mine.

"Is that Flora in there?" I asked levelly. Julia nodded. Another scream sounded, and another laugh.

"It needs to happen, Lucilla," Julia said flatly.

"She's killing her!" I hissed. Willowbud's laughter was almost as tortured as the screeches of her mother.

"She knew the risks," Julia said, her grip on my wrist tightening. "Now go back; you don't belong here."

"Do you think this is what God wants?" I growled, trying to shoulder past her.

"God wants what I want!" Julia hissed, keeping herself pinned between me and the door. There was a metallic thud, a sickening crack, and another shriek, this one so terrible it made my blood go cold.

"You can't stop me from going through this door, Julia," I said, clasping my hand over hers, and pulling. "I was always stronger than you."

"Don't make me—"

"What the fuck are you going to do, burn me?" I sneered, my clasping hand prying her fingers away. "I'm the one bitch you can't do that to."

"Lucilla, don't!" Julia yelled as I pulled her hand away. I dug my shoulder into the paneling, pried it between her body and the door, and squeezed the knob. "Stop!" Julia's eyes were panicked, but I was done listening to her, and I was done being the victim of her little games. "Lucilla, please! I'm so close!" Julia pleaded, struggling with all her might to keep the door shut. Flora bellowed again; her scream distorted with agony.

"Willowbud's not worth this, Julia," I hissed into those pleading emeralds. "And neither are you." I turned the handle, walked into the room, and stopped. I was vaguely aware that something was incredibly wrong, but I couldn't pinpoint what. Something was just... off. In that moment, that final moment of my life, I was just confused.

WILLOWBUD

Lucilla collapsed into a heap on the floor, the wall behind her, the mirror behind her, and the god behind her all painted with her brains. Sister Julia stood still in the crosshairs of my fingers, her expression telling me that she hadn't yet grasped what had just happened. Mom wheezed her final breath beside me, but I didn't look. The pictures of what I'd done to her were burned into my mind, and as the moment dissipated, they began to play behind my lenses. It was over. I could feel Corruption's agony, despair, and surrender, and I could feel her wonderful apathy dissipating from my mind. She was leaving me, but she'd made sure that Night Eyes delivered one final defiant atrocity before she left. And there it was, the dimming patterns of porcelain flesh, a sight that burned itself right next to the horrific images of my tortured mother. These memories would haunt Willowbud for the rest of her very short life, but I wasn't her just yet.

"Congratulations, Sister," I whispered, my eyes glazed with tears. "You won."

And the floor collapsed beneath me, giving way to a tunnel that dug down, down, down; down into the darkness beneath the bedrock, down where the light never reached, down where I could bury Night Eyes one last time.

JULIA

Night Eyes' eyes went white right before she disappeared. I had done it; I had won. She said so herself. I had fulfilled the Holy Mother's purpose. Now, I just had to get Lucilla's brains back in her head, and bring her to Brandon.

"I told you not to go through the door," I sighed, crouching down, and gently pulling her upright, "but Good Mother knows you've always been so boneheaded." I chuckled to myself as I picked a piece of skull off the ground, and frowned when I couldn't find a perfect fit in the back of Lucilla's head.

"After we get you fixed up, I think the whole family should go to the dwarven princedoms, what do you think?" I wiped the blood away that ran like rivers from her nostrils, "After that we can see the Droktin Pass, then I'll go to Droktinar by myself, since I know you don't want to go," I sniggered to Lucilla, and she stared back sightlessly, her eyes filmed over with red.

"We sure could use a vacation," I nodded. "We've been so stressed out, always at each other's throats," I cupped her cheek, and smiled, "but it's better now, Lucilla. We made it." I frowned at the pink debris that littered the floor and the wall. I scooped some of it into my hand, tilted Lucilla's head forward, and pushed it into the hole. She'd need it, I was sure. Those were her memories.

"You and I can find a place to settle down," I said softly. "We'll have to get married by a heathen preacher, since the Maternal Path forbids our love, but I think the Holy Mother can forgive that blasphemy after what I did for her." I winked at Lucilla, and a heavy tear splashed onto my cheek. Where had that come from?

"I was thinking the hills of Grundinar. They have isolated monasteries there from the days of the Highland Kingdom. I could open a little parish, something modest, mind you." Why was I crying? "We could raise Diamond there until she wants to go off on her own." Why was my voice cracking? "We could grow old together in a quiet place, where I would never have to light another fire again." Why did my chest hurt? "And when one of us passes from this world, it will only be after we've built a lifetime of memories between us, and we're only taking a short break, before we meet again."

I looked at my hands, covered with Lucilla's memories, and they were shaking for some reason.

"Diamond, Lucilla, God," I laughed tearfully. "That's what I told myself when things got rough. I always knew you'd be there for me, so I always knew I'd come out alright." I smiled at Lucilla, but she didn't return the smile. My smile faded. The patterns that I'd burned into her with my love were dimming, the light evaporating from her, coalescing beautifully in the air, then floating into my chest.

"No," I whispered to the light. "No, go back to her. She needs you. Go back. Please go back." But the light just moved into me until there was none of it left on her. My whole body was trembling. My heart was throbbing in my chest, my limbs were shooting with spasms, my belly was turning over, churning, burning with bile. I drove my face into Lucilla's chest, and pulled her against me. She was too cold. Why was she so cold? I needed to make her warm. Warmer. Warmer. Warmer. The light that came from her swelled in my chest, too great to hold inside. I needed it to make her warm. I was screaming. I was screaming, and holding her, but there was nothing left to hold. Where had she gone? Why was my fire blue? That wasn't right. Maybe I just needed to push all the blue out, and the white would come back. Maybe I just needed to push all the fire out of me. Every. Last. Flame. I evacuated myself, the energy bursting from me in a sapphire orb that grew larger and larger, expanding, consuming, burning, blackening everything like those screaming faces.

For a moment, there was a second sun. It shined where Drastin used to be, then went out.

Forever they will live as one, like two lovers in the sun, shining from creation's birth, to hold a tether to the earth.

Postlude: The Center

DIAMOND

I stood before a city. It was magnificent. Towers that narrowed into the sky, endless spires of gleaming metal, exquisitely built. It looked like the city of crumbling spires in Corruption's realm. In fact, it was the same city, only this one was... right. But it was empty, and as I walked its streets, I couldn't help but feel a sense of loss. A great architect of the mind had made this place, but it was barren and unused. I felt like I was one of two people who had ever witnessed this miracle, and the other one was insane. The towers spread out like spokes from a single point at the center of the metropolis. A house on a hill. A quaint cottage of brick and wood, standing in stark contrast to the deific structures that surrounded it. I walked up the stairs, and noticed that the footprints I'd been following turned from stone, to moss when I did so. I stopped at the door. It was an iron door. I took a deep breath, prayed to any god that would listen, and clasped the knob. I turned it, and it clicked.

Chaos's center was a single room. A cozy armchair was placed in the corner by a fireplace, which sported a mantle above the hearth. A body-length mirror stood in the corner, a cradle was in the other, and a bed occupied the last corner. There were no paintings. I stepped into the room, and looked around. Everything seemed so normal, like this was just the place she lived, but I could feel the wrongness of it. I examined the bed, and saw the bloodstain on the sheets. I studied the cradle, and saw the fire-scorched pillow. I studied the mirror, and there was Aunt Lucilla. She stared confusedly at me, then pressed her hand against the glass. I raised mine, the fingers trembling, and laid them over hers. She smiled, mouthed 'Sparkles,' then faded away. There was another face, then another, then another. There were thousands of them. Tens of thousands. Hundreds of thousands. Millions. They floated in the void as one massive collection, looking around with the same confusion that Aunt Lucilla had. That Joy had. That Satan had. I stumbled back, my hand touching my lips, the horror coming to me. This was no mirror. This was a window. This was the window, and I knew exactly what it meant. I knew what had happened. I dropped to my knees, my tears splattering the floorboards, my suppressed sobs singing gently from me, contrasting the violent heaves of my diaphragm. I collapsed into the armchair, and hit my head on something hard. A bible. The Maternal Path.

"Alright you bitch," I sobbed, "let's see what lies you've told yourself!" I tore open the bible and flipped to the first day. It was the same as any bible. Every page was. This was just a normal bible.

"It's not the lie I told myself," a drawling voice said from behind me. I twisted, my heart accelerating, my mouth going dry. She stood in the doorway, black skin, black hair, white irises burning from black depths. She stepped forward, and a woman of white hair, peach skin, and burning, white eyes was exposed to the firelight.

"It's the lie I told the world," she said softly, "I am the Holy Mother."