The Creators Ch. 11

"And what, the Creator gene is just a dormant trait passed through the generations?" Lucilla scoffed. "That's it? That's the secret to the Creators? Do we even know why they possess the powers that have?"

"Diamond thinks there's a connection between the Holy Mother, Creators, and the astral plane," Angela shrugged.

"Astral beings," I muttered, the idea beginning to form in my mind. I looked up at Lucilla. "Diamond talked to an astral being in Corruption's realm. It was an astral sunbeam, like this one," I pointed to the lantern glowing dimly beside the bed. "What are astral beings? Just really powerful thoughts. So powerful, in fact, that they become tangible in this world. Elves, nymphs and orcs can meld with them to become mages and project their power from their own minds. The rest of us can capture them in gemstones, and use their power for all kinds of effects. What are the three most rudimentary thoughts there are?" I asked. "Life," I gestured to all of us, "earth," I tapped my foot against the stone floor, "and fire." I gestured to the sun blazing through Mom's broken sunroof. "These thoughts are pervasive in our minds, and we send them to the astral plane with every waking moment of our lives. The Creators pull their power from the spiritual plane, pass it through the astral plane, and manifest it here."

"So, what?" Lucilla asked. "How does this information help us at all? It's nice and all, Justina, but we're not researching for your fucking dissertation. Now I came here because Tera told me the four of you were hatching a plan, and I have yet to hear one single strategy about how to deal with Corruption."

"We can't form a strategy without all the information," I scowled.

"We are running out of time!" Lucilla snapped back, and the ferocity of her outburst gave me pause. She looked nearly manic for a moment before she collected herself with a deep breath. "We need to act today. I will not wait one more night for Julia to become infected with Corruption. No more deciphering cryptic messages from the astral plane, and no more guess-work! We use the information we have, we get Diamond out, and we act NOW!"

Angela and I were about to object, but Mom held up her hand. "She's right," Mom said softly. "We've been playing detective for too long. We need to make a plan."

"But we're not ready!" I insisted, "We need more information! We're still missing something!"

"Nothing ever falls perfectly into place, Justina," Mom said, putting a hand on my shoulder. "I never once worked a job where I had all the information I needed. Sometimes, you just need to do it."

"OK," Lucilla nodded, "so, what's the plan then?"

"We want to knock Corruption out of Willowbud," Mom said. "And the way to do that is to make her start turning into Guilt."

"But if we try to make Willowbud do it, she'll go fucking berserk," Angela frowned. "It would be the same as trying what Julia is doing, and we all see how that's turning out."

"We need to make Corruption do it herself," Mom said, tapping her lips as she reviewed the bulletin board. "These things retain the smallest pieces of their former selves. Wrath has a painting of Gloria in his center, and Hatred has a painting of Joy in hers. There are vestiges of what Corruption once was in her center. The bible doesn't matter; it's just the lie these things tell themselves. It's the paintings we need, because the paintings will tell us who Corruption was, and why she is." Mom moved the names around on the bulletin board until the names 'Satan' and 'The Holy Mother' sat above 'Black' and 'Joy.' "Whatever Corruption was before, whether it be Chaos or Black, one thing is for certain..." Mom placed the name 'Hatred' beneath 'Joy.' "...she hated her sister, and why?" Mom tapped the empty space she'd left between the names 'Black' and 'Joy.' "Because she loved her brother, and something happened between the three of them." Mom tapped the name 'Guilt.' "And though she blames her sister, she also blames herself. Chaos becomes Corruption becomes Guilt. It's her natural evolution."

"But how?" Lucilla asked, barely containing her impatience.

"We need a name," Angela said quietly. "When I first met Corruption, she almost left Willowbud out of simple curiosity. There was this look in her eyes, this... recognition. Corruption has forgotten who she was, and she seeks to remember despite herself. It's like she's naturally becoming Guilt, but she's trying everything to stop the evolution. We need a name. We need his name."

"Her Life Giver, her brother," Mom said, staring at the empty space on the board.

"Her Brandon," Angela said under her breath.

Interlude Two: Joy

DIAMOND

The monochromatic light of Corruption's realm was strange. Though everything else was in greys, my own body seemed to glow with color. I followed the black footprints Corruption had burned into her hardpan earth, passing the fifth spire since I'd emerged from the unfinished realm of Guilt. The towers were miles apart from each other, and the path between them was treacherous. After ten more minutes, I finally navigated the great upheaval at the base of a sixth spire, and stopped to ponder it. What were these things? They sloped like the foot of a mountain, then turned to immense spiraling towers that went to infinity. What was the symbolism? Why did this mean 'Corruption?' I looked down at the footprints beneath my feet, and saw that their path led through the valleys between spires. I could understand why she'd take the path of least resistance if this weren't her realm, but it was, which meant distance was a nonfactor for her. Why did she walk at all, and why never up the slopes? What was she avoiding? I glanced up the slope to my left, and considered. I needed to find the secrets at Corruption's center, but as far as I could tell, this realm was unending. There were obviously limits to it, Corruption had a finite mind, but it could take me days to find the center, and it would only take me an hour to climb to one of the spires. I set my jaw, and made my ascent.

I was sweating profusely by the time I made it to the summit. I had greatly underestimated the gradient of the upheaval, and my legs were screaming from the tortuous climb. I hobbled toward the base of the spire, and stopped. The great structure was a cylinder that broke through the heavens, contoured with spiraling stone that could only have been made by an Earth Former. And at its base, was an iron door.

"What the heck?" I hissed, and looked around. Did all of these towers have doors? Did they all lead to different realms?!

"Do I even want to know?" I asked myself, but of course I did. I reached out, grabbed the door, and pulled it open. A pair of black footprints were burned into the stone just past the threshold. I peeked through the door, and all I saw was an empty room surrounded by cylindrical walls that stretched to a white dot high above me. I stepped forward, and fell. I fell, and fell, and fell. I had enough time to shake myself from my shock, and realize that this much falling certainly meant death at the end. I screamed. I screamed in manic terror, clutching for anything and everything, looking up at the false floor above me where Corruption's footprints turned to specs floating on nothing. I screamed until the light of the doorway dwindled to a dot, then I stopped screaming. I was on my feet, perfectly fine, standing in pitch blackness.

"This was once a warmer place, of kind eyes on morning's face, I remember the song of birds, and the joy in my holy mother's words." An unbidden memory came to me, and another foreign pang of guilt. I could've helped Hatred, but I didn't. I could've turned her back to Greed, where she was happy, but I didn't. I could've... stop.

"Guilt," I whispered into the darkness. "Every one of these spires is a doorway to Guilt."

"Hello," A familiar voice said. I turned around to see a spec of light zooming toward me. Orb illuminated the darkness as he approached, and what he showed gave me pause. This realm was just as small as the other one, barely big enough to fit a single memory, but there were no statues, nor even paintings that I could see. There was nothing. I waited until Orb illuminated me, then I turned around, and—

"Hi!" a little elf girl smiled up at me, and I screamed again. The little girl beamed up at me as I recoiled in terror, waiting expectantly like she was used to people freaking out at her.

"What the heck! What the flipping heck?!" I gasped, clutching my chest. "Don't just sneak up on me like that!"

"Hey, do you wanna hear a story?" the little blonde elf asked.

"Hold on a second," I said, gathering my bearings. "Who are you? What are you? Are you untethered?"

"I wrote it last night," the elf grinned. "I know I was supposed to be asleep, but I was just so excited to write!"

"That's not what I asked...." I trailed off. This elf girl wasn't real. She was a memory, and I had the sickening feeling that I knew exactly who she was. Her irises were sapphire like Aunt Lucilla's, and her sclera bore the same hue, but the orb of her eye was separated from the backdrop by a ring of white.

"Eh-em," Joy cleared her throat, then stood up straight. "To my Mommy and Daddy, the bestest two people in the whole wide world." Joy paused to grin coyly at me, shrugging her shoulders with childlike insecurity. Then, she began. "There once was a little girl, who found a ruby and a pearl, she put them in her little box, and turned the key on her little lock." Joy grinned up at me, the slightest glint of avarice in her sapphire eye. "She really liked shiny stuff, a little diamond in the rough, but they didn't give her the kind of glee, that she got from her family." Joy smiled again, this time with an expression full of love. "We are all in this together, love entwined, bound and tethered, nothing will pull us apart, because nothing's stronger than the heart!" Joy finished with a little bounce of her toes, then bowed grandly, her platinum hair flopping over her face. I stared at her, stunned and confused, then began to clap. Joy flipped her head upright, and showed a red face twisted in hatred, white eyes burning from white sclera, rimmed with black.

"You killed her," Hatred whispered to me, her voice low and wavering. "You killed her, you killed her, you killed her, YOU KILLED HER, YOU KILLED HER, YOU KILLED HER!" I stumbled backward, and she advanced, her steps purposeful and threatening, her stride impossibly fast as she burst into white flame. "YOU KILLED HER, YOU KILLED HER, YOU KILLED HER!" And Hatred collapsed, turning into a wretched being of jagged glass, then one of steel, then of silver, and finally, she rose as the golden figure of Greed. She stopped for a moment, looking around confusedly, not seeing me at all. She touched a hand to her face, and I noticed there were black fingerprints on her cheek. It looked like Corruption had laid a gentle hand on Greed's face, but by the unrecognizing expression in Greed's eyes, it appeared that Greed didn't retain any of the memories Hatred seemed to have for her sister.

"Who did Corruption kill?" I asked, knowing Greed couldn't answer me. It was just a memory, after all, an abstraction like the paintings in Wrath and Hatred's centers. This was another of Guilt's realms, and this memory was the only thing in it. Greed turned to Sorrow before my eyes, her blue face slack in unrecognizing confusion. I guess it was that expression that haunted Guilt, that look of unknowing. Maybe it was better for her if her sister hated her, than if she didn't remember her at all.

"Did you kill Joy, Corruption?" I asked the void as Sorrow receded into the darkness. "Or did you kill your mother?"

"Did you, Diamond?" an unwanted emotion teased in my mind. I sighed, and looked up. There was only one way out of here, and it meant making me feel like a total piece of crap. But, there was no way around it. I took a deep breath, and let the guilt wash over me. When I was well-past suicidal, I found myself standing on Corruption's footprints at the entrance to the spire. I stepped back into Corruption's realm, and considered the landscape. The spires became the foothills of mountains, which dipped into valleys and plateaus. But the valleys and plateaus were lined with treacherous fissures, and ended abruptly into cliffs. It seemed that the flatter the land became, the thinner it was, and the more fragile. This realm was crumbling. It was like a sheet of paper barely holding its form as holes and rips broke the connecting fibers. Beneath this plane, was the endless abyss of Guilt. Corruption had managed to contain it into separate wells in her plane, but like a sheet of paper, the more holes punched in it, the weaker it became. Soon, the little holes would become bigger holes, which would become even bigger holes. Soon, there would be nothing but the hole. I narrowed my eyes.

Did the landscape become more fractured since my descent?

Yes, it did.

Part Three: Reconciliation

ASTRID

For all intents and purposes, I was a slave. I enjoyed being a slave. I enjoyed being dressed for display, being commanded, and being used. But every once in a while, I enjoyed my master's doting. We were in Mistress's bedroom, and I was lying on my stomach, a moan of contentment filtering from my mouth.

"How's that?" Mistress asked me, her fingers kneading the gnarled muscles of my back.

"Perfect," I purred. I knew Mistress just wanted me in the best shape possible before my match, but I liked to pretend she was doing it because she cared about me. All I could do was pretend with Mistress, because if I thought about reality for too long, I felt that old me I'd buried trying to crawl back. There was no need to be that woman anymore. Honor and chivalry were stupid childish things. Hedonism and glory were pursuits of worth. My pleasure, my fame, and my legacy were the only things that mattered. Keep telling yourself that.

"Do you like fighting in the Pit?" Mistress asked. It was a strange question for her to ask, but I wasn't too worried about it with the way she ran her palms down the length of my spine.

"Of course," I groaned into the pillow.

"You don't feel guilty about the people you kill?"

"They must've been suicidal to step on the sand across from me. I did them a favor," I answered, expecting Mistress's concurring chuckle. I didn't hear it. There was a silence that hung between us, and the odd tension behind it seemed to wind tighter with each second that passed without words.

"Why hasn't Iona come yet?" Mistress finally asked.

"I don't know," I replied into the pillow. "Mother should've come when Breyta and Ofan did."

"Do you want them to come?" Mistress asked.

"No," I replied, cursing my inability to lie.

"Why not?" Mistress pressed. I steeled myself, realizing there was no way to avoid the answer.

"I do not want them to suffer my fate," I said quietly. I expected punishment, but Mistress only paused her massage for a moment, then continued it.

"Do you think I'd turn them all into you?" Mistress asked. Her voice sounded odd; there wasn't any of the threat or cruel mirth in it. It put me on edge. I'd learned Mistress's behavioral patterns, and I knew when to anticipate her sadism, but this calmness was different. I didn't know what to expect, and that terrified me.

"Yes," I replied cautiously.

"Do you like what I turned you into?" Mistress asked, her hands stopping their movements. I carefully turned over, folding my wings beneath me as I rolled onto my back. Mistress was watching me with uncharacteristic trepidation, averting her eyes before I did. What test was this? What games was she playing now?

"You have turned me into me," I said, gesturing to my tattooed and pierced body. "This is me without pretense. I am your whore, your slave, and your toy, and I am freer than I've ever been."

"You don't regret it?" Mistress asked, running the back of her hand softly over my tattooed belly. There was genuine gentleness behind that touch, not just sensual tenderness. It was purposefully unthreatening; the back of her hand couldn't grab me, or pinch me, or scratch me.

"My regrets grow quieter by the day," I said softly. "They hardly speak to me anymore."

"Mine seem to be coming back to me," Mistress smiled ruefully. "It's like they're waiting for me on the other side."

Mistress abruptly stopped her caressing, and stared blankly down as though she was looking through me. Her mouth fell open, and her pupils slowly constricted.

"Mistress?" I asked. She didn't respond. Her hand was trembling against my belly, the knuckles wavering ever-so-slightly. Then I felt the vibrations in my bed coming from the stones that it rested upon. A single drop of blood rolled from Mistress's nostril.

"Mistress?!" I asked with more concern. The entire temple trembled, the sound of glass shattering over the low rumbles of shifting stone. The blood began to run freely from Mistress's nose, her eyes were staring blankly, wide, horrified. They rolled into her head, leaving only blacks that saw nothing. There was a deafening crack, and I looked up to see a fissure forming in the ceiling above us, rubble cascading from its birth.

"Mistress!" I screamed, pulling her to me and folding my wings around us as the rocks began to shower down. A great crash sounded beside us, and splinters of rock peppered my winged shell, blasting holes through feathers and flesh. I screamed in pain, looking in horror at the blood-soaked wounds that rendered me flightless. The only use they were now was as vain protection from a collapsing building. The crashes became more frequent, louder, the pieces that struck me became heavier, punching horrific jagged holes into my span. I held Mistress close to me as the world fell around us, trying vainly to keep her safe in the comfort of my bosom.

"Willowbud, please," I whispered without thinking. It stopped. The great tremors quelled, the rolling thunder of destruction dwindled, leaving only the sound of wind whistling through open cracks. I looked down at the horned head of white hair in my chest, and I cautiously pulled it away. Her eyes were lighter than they'd been before, dark grey instead of black. They stared confusedly up at me like I was a riddle she didn't understand.

"Willowbud?" I asked, the name barely coming from me. Mistress's eyes turned suddenly black. Her hand was on my throat, her weight was atop me, and she was pressing me into the bed, her foot pushing onto my belly.

"I told you, if you ever called me that again, I would brand that little ass with a hot iron!" Mistress growled; her face twisted in rage. "I told you I would..." she trailed off, her eyes growing distant again. She reached behind herself, and touched the small of her back where Julia had branded her just the day before. She cocked her head, and considered the cracked ceiling above us. Then she looked at my terrified face, my splayed nudity, and my destroyed wings. She sighed, and rolled off me. With a tap of her foot, the temple righted itself to a chorus of shifting rock and grumbling foundation.

"C'mon, Astrid," Mistress extended her hand to me, "let's get Brandon to fix you. I can't have you seen like that; people would get the wrong idea about me." Mistress chuckled her signature chuckle, but it sounded forced.

TERA

"...this throws everything we know out the window," Justina scowled.

"No, it doesn't," Angela said. "It just means that our theory needs some correction."

"If every one of the spires in Corruption's realm is just an emotional elevator to Guilt, then it means that Corruption is simultaneously existing in two realms," Justina said.