The Creators Ch. 11

"And more importantly, how the heck do I get out of here?" I asked myself, putting my hands on my hips. My eyes fell to the sunbeam again, it's source impossibly high. "If this is a realm unto itself, then there must be a door at the center," I mused. "But where are the signs of her transformation? Sorrow had her poems, Greed had the statues, but Guilt..." had her memories. I finished the thought, and walked to the center. Orb followed me silently, keeping me from running into anymore statues, then he disappeared once again under the stronger astral sun. I stood in the circle of light, then sat cross-legged, closed my eyes, and let the horrible thoughts take me. You let your mother die. You let her memories wilt away. You left Justina without even a look back. You threw Angela in the path of your unstable mother. You left Aunt Lucilla all alone with people she was afraid of. You left Mom all alone with a devil that will break her. You left the world at the mercy of someone who believes a fairy tale gave her a divine purpose. The world will burn, and it's all your fault.

I opened my eyes with a gasp, my heart sinking in my chest, my vision blurred with tears. The grey light focused, and the scene before me spread out. It was a city. A city of derelict towers that stretched to points in the clear sky, unending in their heights. Each tower was miles from the other, but each tower's base was an immense uplift of rock, like the foot of a mountain that spawned a spire instead of a peak, and that spire reached to infinity. The landscape was treacherous, the plateaus between the towers cracked and crumbling, cut with fissures that dove to limitless blackness, and ending with sudden cliffs whose bottoms could not be seen. The realm stretched forever. As I squinted, I saw that the spires formed rows, creating hallways of towering columns narrowing in the distance until they seemed to coalesce to a single, infinite line. I could see no obvious center, nor an obvious end to the realm. I turned every-which way, but could not see a wall, or a gate, or even a discernable difference in the landscape. Just infinite rows of towers that rose to infinity, and infinite cliffs and fissures whose depths balanced the dizzying heights. I looked down. I was standing beside a circular hole in the ground, and leading right to that hole, was a set of black footprints. I wiped the tears from my face, set my jaw, and began my journey through the realm of Corruption.

Part Two: Woof-Woof

WILLOWBUD

The fork clattered onto the table. My fingers trembled, my stomach knotted, my head felt like it was splitting. Oh fuck. Why now? I didn't do anything, you dumb bitch! Memories flashed before my eyes. Painful memories. Agonizing memories. And I felt each one. Each transgression, each horrible choice, each evil indulgence. They were mine, and mine alone. I had done them with glee. I felt the earth beneath the bare soles of my feet, the bedrock, the hollows and caves where water traveled in black oceans beneath the crust. My fists balled, my teeth ground, my jaw felt like it would snap.

"Willowbud?!" Brandon's voice screamed. And it was done. Whatever had almost torn Corruption from me had passed, or she'd at least decided it wasn't worth it. I opened my eyes to see twenty Ofanian blades within an inch of my throat.

"I'm going to pretend you all just offered to shave my cunt," I said, catching my breath. "And now, I'm going to politely refuse your generosity." I glared up at Bianca Blackwing, and she nodded, and Brandon's honor guard sheathed their weapons. Across the table of the vegan restaurant (which I was shocked actually existed), Brandon was pale as snow.

"You told them about me, huh?" I said, picking up my fork, and continuing my meal.

"They had to know," Brandon said quietly. "If they found out on their own, they would've tried to kill you."

"Probably," I nodded. "And I would've put Ofan in the history books, so I guess you were right."

"What just happened?" Brandon asked.

"Why don't you tell me?" I smirked, and saw Brandon's face pale a little more. "What?" I chuckled. "Did you think I didn't notice your change in behavior? You can see her now, can't you?"

"Yeah," Brandon muttered.

"Well...." I beckoned him with a twirl of my fork. Brandon shifted uneasily, struggling to maintain eye-contact with me. Strangely, I didn't feel that bad about it.

"She looks worried," Brandon said. "She keeps looking from me, then rolling her eyes back. I think she's looking into the astral plane."

"And what does she see?"

"I don't know," Brandon shook his head, "I can't see into it. The only reason I can see Corruption is because you two are separating."

"You think so?"

"I know so," Brandon leaned forward, putting his chin in his palms, studying me. "Even before people knew you were a god; I could literally see your reputation preceding you. People scrambled out of your way like there was something physical that compelled them. You killed your former gang on suspicion alone. You robbed banks and left no witnesses to point the finger, then walked out the front for everyone to see anyway. You killed every member of every syndicate in this city, and now, you won't even touch twenty women with blades to your throat."

"You think I'm becoming soft?" I smirked.

"I think you're becoming Willowbud," Brandon said, then put his hand atop mine. I frowned. Usually, I would turn my palm over and linked fingers with the man. Now, his touch was barely pleasant; it was almost annoying. Brandon smiled ruefully, and withdrew his hand.

"It's just a phase, you know," I grumbled. "Sister Julia and I stopped our game. I'll be better soon."

"Do you want to be 'better?'" Brandon asked.

"I don't want to be her again, Brandon;" I replied, stabbing a cucumber with my fork, "I'd rather die."

We ate in silence for a while, but it wasn't the comfortable understanding quietness that usually hung between us. It was a forced unnatural silence filled with things that weren't said. Our eyes shifted together, then moved away after a few seconds of contact, and we both became way too interested in our food. For some strange reason, my mind wandered to Astrid.

LUCILLA

"Woof-woof," Julia said, smiling up at me as I ran my fingers through her wet hair, washing what she used to call 'sin' from her strands. Hell, it used to be Julia washing the cum out of my hair, and gazing down with concern at me. What was even stranger than the role-reversal, was that I enjoyed being the caregiver. I enjoyed tending to her, touching her platonically, grooming her. She'd doted on me my entire life, and not once had I thought it was any more than her duty, possibly her burden. I never thought it would be a privilege.

"Woof-woof!" Julia grinned again, and blew bubbles into the air. I smiled back, and cupped my palm over her forehead as I poured water through her soapy crimson strands, directing the stream away from her face as she had done so many times with me. I lathered the suds back into her mane, and giggled when she purred like a cat, and sank blissfully into the tub.

"Woof-woof...." she groaned, and rested her head on the tub's edge as my fingers kneaded her scalp.

"Oh, you like that, huh?" I chuckled.

"Woof-woof," Julia whispered contentedly. I scrubbed behind her ears, rubbed along the column of her neck, then grabbed a sponge, and began blotting her shoulders. I worked my way over her collar, across the top of her chest, then stopped. Her breasts were floating in the soapy water, glistening pale domes adorned with pink nipples. This had been it; the first time we'd kissed. Julia had leaned forward to wash my breasts, and I, full of lust and wine, had kissed her. She'd broken from the kiss in a panic, and had to steel herself with heavy breaths just to keep from blowing up. Would that woman even recognize this girl in the tub? Were they even the same person anymore?

"Woof-woof," Julia said softly, and looked up at me from the tops of her eyes, those same emeralds I'd seen in that little ginger girl's face over a decade ago. This was my Julia; different, but still her. Julia smiled those red lips, and tilted her head back. She knew the situation. I grinned, and leaned forward, my platinum hair forming a curtain around her face, the strands tickling her chin. Our smiles connected, our mouths opened, and our tongues moved inside. Emeralds corrupted with blackness, no mercy in their pits, only cruelty, only hunger. They reflect my screaming face, and they grow hungrier with each desperate wail I sound. Those red lips quirk below them, revealing rows of white teeth bared in a predatory grin. No mercy, no hope, no love. Only pain. I flung backward, falling on my ass, water splashing around me. Julia darted upright, the bath steaming with her alarm, and I scrambled to my feet, backing away, my heart pounding.

"Woof-woof?" she asked, turning to get out of the tub. My mind painted her eyes black and carved a merciless smile across her mouth.

"Stay back!" I screamed, backing toward the door. I knew the hurt on Julia's face would break my heart later, but in that moment my heart was too gripped with panic to care. She gazed after me with slightly-parted lips, and eyes filled with regret, but that evil mask strobed across her portrait, and the coward in me took over. I turned on my heel, and I sprinted out of the room, a pathetic 'woof-woof' sounding after me. I rounded a corner, my stomach knotting, my body clammy with fear, and I searched for some secluded place to finish freaking out in peace. I dove into a nearby closet, slammed the metal door, and sat for a moment in perfect, sanguine darkness. My breathing decelerated, my heart fell in time, and I managed to keep from puking breakfast onto my lap. I tried to remember the feeling of Serenity inside me, but there was no substitute for the Sentient gift, and my lungs ached for it. Angela was right; it was addictive. The door opened, and any semblance of peace I had was spurred from my body.

"Princess?" Sara asked from the doorway.

"I'm fine," I replied breathily. Sara extended her hand and she hauled me up with unexpected strength, the momentum propelling me against her.

"You're not fine;" Sara whispered, studying me. "You're anything but 'fine.'" Sara brushed my hair behind my ears, and went about straightening my dress. "You need to hold it together for just one day, Princess, then you can have your narcissistic break down."

"You're a wealth of sympathy," I growled.

"Yesterday was the worst day of your life, I get it," Sara said as she tidied me, "but that would've just been 'Wednesday' for me back at the palace. Put it behind you." Sara looked over her shoulder, and an elf down the hallway nodded. So, it was conspiring time.

"How are you doing for supplies?" I asked.

"We paid the apothecaries to empty Brandon's poppy fields," Sara replied in a low voice. "They gave us ingestible opium. If Julia goes, we'll put it in the Breytan's dinner before the fight."

"She's going," I sighed. "I thought after her and Willowbud put a hiatus on their 'temptation game' Julia would be glad not to go, but she's doing it anyway."

"It's a contingency we planned for," Sara frowned, then looked up at me. "I guess that means you're going too."

"There's no way I'm leaving her alone with Willowbud again."

"Let's just hope Freydis is as good a shot as her reputation suggests," Sara sighed. "If she misses, I doubt she'll get another chance. If Willowbud captures her..."

"...she'll kill herself first."

Sara just nodded. "When will Freydis make her move?"

"We'll meet with her at five on the northwest balcony, and we'll plan it out. From what she said earlier, she'll probably take her shot during the fight."

"And if Willowbud doesn't present a good target?"

"She will," I said, hoping more than believing. "From what it sounds like, Astrid and Tera are overwhelming favorites to win. Willowbud will want to be seen with her victors."

"Killed on the podium," Sara chuckled. "Poor Astrid is going to be absolutely devastated."

"You think that's funny?"

"A little," Sara smiled with a shrug of her shoulders, then took me by the arm. "I believe you have an appointment with Tera Autumnsong." Sara eyed me as she escorted me down the hall. "Does she suspect anything?"

"She thinks I'm just a victim," I said, touching a finger to the astral gemstone in my ear. I guess I'd lost the other one. I'd gotten them for Tera and me so that she could fill me in on any new developments. From the sound of things, Angela had just come back with something new.

"And what do you think of her and Diamond's... theories?" Sara asked carefully.

"It's mostly guesswork, but there is something there. I want to explore it and see if Diamond can glean anything useful."

"But does it change anything?" Sara asked. I paused, and thought about it. I could accept that Corruption had been an Earth Former, I could accept that she knew Hatred, and I could accept that she loved the Life Giver. There was evidence for all these things. But I could not—I would not—accept the theory about The Holy Mother and the divine triplets. Even if the theories were compelling, they were based on nothing. The errant use of a possessive pronoun by an insane Sentient was not enough evidence to say the greatest religion in the world was started by a Creator. Creationism and the Maternal Path were separate; they'd been at odds with each other since the beginning of history. Maybe that was why Corruption made Julia think she was a prophet; maybe corrupted-Julia wanted to reconcile the difference. Diamond had made great discoveries, but they were still too cryptic, too open to interpretation, and none of them were useful.

"No," I muttered, "it doesn't change anything. They have a lot of ideas, but no plan." I frowned. "But If Willowbud dies, Corruption goes back to her realm. I'll try to expedite things with them today. We need Diamond out before we can proceed."

"We can still tell Julia," Sara returned my frown. "If she knows her daughter is in Corruption's realm, she might be compelled to kill Corruption for Diamond's safety."

"In case you didn't notice, Julia's not exactly stable right now," I sighed. "We can't trust her, Sara. We need to keep her in the dark for her own good."

JUSTINA

"...OK, as much as I don't like it, we have to operate under the assumption that there is such a thing as a 'soul,'" I said, placing the word on the bulletin board in Mom's safehouse. "Tethered Ones, like Angela, have this 'soul' which links consciousness to the idea of 'self.' Sentients have the cognizance, but not the soul, so they replace all the complex characteristics of a soul with a single theme. Wrath, Sorrow, Greed, Hatred, Corruption, Chaos, and now..." I slapped another name into Corruption's column, "...Guilt? Goddamn, that throws everything off."

"No, it doesn't," Angela said, lying nakedly with my mother.

"What do you mean?" Mom asked.

"It's simple," Angela said, "Willowbud changed Corruption to Guilt. That's why there is a new, but very small realm within the larger one."

"But why is Hatred's door in Guilt's realm then?" I asked. "If Corruption changed Hatred before recorded history, why is the bridge between them a year old?"

"Because that's where she moved it, probably," Mom shrugged. "Do you think it's important?"

"We don't know what's important!" I lamented. "We don't even know what to do with the information we have!"

There was a patterned knock on the door, and Mom let Lucilla into the room. Behind her, Sara gave Mom a cordial nod, then disappeared behind the shutting door. Lucilla seemed paler than usual, which was quite the feat considering her complexion, but whatever haunted her didn't stop her from giving me a sharp glare. I averted my gaze, then cursed myself for doing so. It wasn't my fault Diamond ran off to the astral plane, but I was terrible with confrontation. Chalk that up to being raised in isolation. The pile of social ineptitudes caused by my upbringing is getting larger with every day I spend in society. But I mustn't blame Mom; she did her best.

I was a little perturbed that Angela seemed to get a free pass from Lucilla, when it was her fault if it was anyone's, but I didn't vocalize my opinion. Mostly because I didn't want the confrontation. Maybe that was why Lucilla wasn't a bitch to Angela; because Angela actually had a fucking backbone. God, I am a pussy.

"But why didn't Corruption stay as Guilt?" Lucilla asked after she was brought up to speed.

"Maybe Corruption tore herself away before the change became permanent," Angela answered. "It seemed that the only thing in Guilt's realm was Willowbud's exorcism, so perhaps Guilt didn't have time to develop."

"That makes sense, but it doesn't answer the question about the door," I insisted. "Why was Hatred's door in Guilt's realm, if Guilt formed temporarily and incompletely just one year ago?"

"There are a lot of questions we can't answer, Justina," Mom sighed, "but we have something now. The reason Corruption can't stand her host feeling guilt is because the emotion transforms the Sentient herself. Two days ago, when we first learned about Sentient evolution, we decided that the pertinent question was: 'how and why do Sentients change?' Well, now we have our answer. Greed changed to Sorrow because her host was consumed with sadness. Corruption turned to Guilt because her host was consumed with guilt. The change breaks the meld."

"Julia's been trying to guilt-trip Willowbud for days, and it hasn't worked," Lucilla frowned. "Willowbud is acting weird, but she's still 'Night Eyes.'"

"Who's to say Guilt is all Corruption can turn to?" Angela asked.

"I think their evolution must be predesignated," I answered. "Willowbud has undoubtedly felt a litany of emotions while under the influence of Corruption, but none of them effect Corruption but guilt. 'Guilt' must be the next natural step for Corruption to take, but she's resisting."

"Probably because she thinks she's been preordained by the Holy Mother to be 'Corruption,'" Angela replied, then added. "By which I mean, her mother."

"Let's stick with the facts, Angela," Lucilla insisted.

"It fits too well," Mom said, pulling out the notes she and I had jotted all last night. "Why do the Creators always return on the same night? Because they're triplets. Why is their cycle irregular? Because incubus impregnation causes irregular pregnancy lengths. Why are they different species? Once again, incubus DNA at work. It might remain dormant, but all of your offspring will carry it if you do, as my wonderful sister found out the hard way."

"Matching the biblical description of Satan with an incubus is easy, and when you consider the wording of Hatred's poetry, Corruption's obsession with Brandon and Willowbud, and the strange connection the astral plane has with Creators and the Maternal Path, you have to concede there is something," I said.

Lucilla shook her head. "There are coincidences, not connections, and let's pretend that the Holy Mother really was just the mother of the first Creators. Explain to me how that happens? How is a cycle of gods created from the mutant birth of incubus offspring?"

"Diamond thinks the Holy Mother wasn't just some lady." Angela answered, "She thinks the Holy Mother was a god just like the Creators; maybe the first Creator herself. Not omnipotent like it says in the bible, but limitlessly powerful. She bound with Satan, and she created the Earth Former, Life Giver, and Heat Bringer."