Drown In Black

There was a storm outside. From here, it was possible to hear it. Heavy raindrops falling upon the remaining roofs of Darreha's houses, upon the cobblestone streets, now covered by the ichor, oozing through the clefts between the hewn stone, through the ditches to the sides, a black spider's web enveloping the grey of human's buildings. Lightning crisscrossed the sky, but those flashes of light could not reach underground. Instead, the following boom of thunder shook the eardrums of anyone in possession of such anatomy. Orineth didn't exactly have them, just a facsimile, similar to most other organs. She had still retained the nonsolid quality, even if her body now more resembled a person of flesh.

But she had no time to ponder that, study the changes that had fallen upon her, partly by an outside force, partly by her own, if subconscious, desire. Now, only one thought burned in her mind. To find what went wrong... no, that was not correct. She knew exactly what went wrong. In the moment of her greatest vulnerability, when she expoused her thoughts, her self, slowly waking from nonexistence, from the void it was cast into when she was created... born. At that exact point, she was painfully made aware how close they had become. How she regarded Sanja, what that girl meant to her. Where once she was a person of interest, she had soon become someone she wanted to learn from, to understand both her and the world she was from - and the Qyrora came into. But there was more to it. This rage bubbling inside her was not because of losing a mentor... a friend? Or...?

She had no time to waste. Even if rationally, there was not much that would happen - the Qyrora operated at much longer scales than humans - it did not feel that way to her. She wanted this done away with. Now.

What she had half forgotten as a Tarika, was slowly coming to the fore. She was an observer for a long time, one who directed others. But that had changed. And that purpose had changed once again only minutes ago. Now, she would have to confront someone. And that which she was, had responded.

 

The brewery had once had a large cellar - large enough to serve as a basis for the reconfiguration needed for the sprawling underground halls Orineth was now marching through. Now filled with mostly self-sustaining operation, manufacturing new forms for their workforce, holding massive vats of ichor... She was aware of someone further down the labyrinth, working on some new project. She did not care about that. Not before, and not now. She just had to get to the entrance. And then find the second Tarika. It may not be the actual perpetrator, but it had already tried to interfere. That in itself was enough.

The workers in the front hall, the original cellar of the brewery, didn't even notice her arrival. They were tasked with their work, and one Tarika walking past did not concern them. Further, past the stairs, she emerged in the brewery proper - or what had remained of it. Most of the roof was gone, only some parts held by the remaining pillars and walls were able to shield her location from the rain. Further back, a larger part of the building was pierced through by a Qyroran structure, built out of shaded metal, covered in black liquid. But that was not her goal. Her target was in a different part of the city, somewhere beyond the slowly transforming half-destroyed urban mess.

Steeling herself, she stepped into the rain. She had always hated that phenomenon, the raindrops falling through her with a strange unnerving sensation she couldn't describe, but certainly made her reluctant to leave for the outsides in such a weather.

But not this time, Orineth soon found out. Unlike before, the water just hit her outer skin and slid down, not able to penetrate inside her body. Allowing herself a slightly uplifting emotion, she pressed on. There was no time, she once again reminded herself. She had to be there, with the Second, yesterday.

 

It had once been the city hall. Possibly the most important building in Darreha. Now, she perceived the irony - there were higher raked officers in this army. One, maybe two, of that second she was not sure - and did not want to think about that. Yet the city hall had become the seat of the second Tarika, in a display of obliviousness to the workings of human civilization. The Qyrorans were often like that. Completely ignorant of what or who they conquered. And after the last few months, she was suddenly fairly opposed to that. There were things to be learned from their opponents. And if not for the better, a negative example was also a learning experience.

She went in through the main entrance. The double door still standing - at least the frame. Instead of the wooden part, there were two metal sheets in their place.

What do you want, Fourth? resounded in her mind right after she crossed the threshold.

Answers, she replied, trying to hold her anger back. Still, it seeped through into her voice, the emotion catching the other Tarika's attention.

It is not common to hear emotion in your statement. It would be suitable to check for possible deficiencies or flaws.

Orineth cared not for its ideas, or this unwanted advice. Instead, she pushed onwards, searching for its humanoid figure. She had found it in one of the rooms at the back of the buildings, slumped into a communication node. The massive contraption filled half of the room, tubing running from its centre to the walls and ceiling, disappearing in the darkness that took those places. The node itself was moulded into a half-seat, metal, ichor and some uncertain material intertwined to form the beating heart of the Tarika's domain, whence it could control its numerous subordinates. There were two grunts in the room as well, standing motionless on each side of the door. Orineth regarded them with a stare, continuing inside.

You have changed, commented the Second, It is the result of your ill-conceived experiment, is it not?

You do not have to ask when you know the answer, she replied coldly, And you shall answer me. Why was she blanked? Answer. Now.

The shadow, once again covered in the liquid coat, slowly rose from its seat. It regarded her with a long stare, without any eyes, Orineth could only recognize that though the connection all of Qyrora shared, although not many could use. That was the domain of the Tarikas.

If the experiment is over, there is no need for you to continue its monitoring. You were relieved from that duty, so you are not to concern yourself with it.

The anger flared again. This time, she cared not for concealing it.

It was not over! And you know it! What did you do? Answer me. Now! And do not hide yourself behind empty observations which we both know do not reflect reality! she almost shouted - as much as that could be said about the telepathic form of communication.

You are becoming irrational. It is imperative to detain and...

It was not able to finish the sentence. Orineth crossed the space between them in an instant, grabbing after the Second: You will not! Answer me! Now!

Her hand grasped only air, as the other Tarika glided back, its form completely disregarding the node up to its waist. And at the same time, the two, up until the moment silent and motionless, muscular workers moved towards her. She whipped around to face them. Now, she noticed her mistake. These were not mere workers. The muscles of the two beings were strengthened, the quadruple of massive arms seemed disproportionately large on their torsos. The heads reminded her of hounds as she had seen them in Sanja's memories. But where those had two eyes, here there were six of them, some pointing forward, some to the sides. Their maws oozed ichor, but that did not phase her. What was lethal to the enemies of Qyrora was nothing to one of them. Instead, she realized her new form could probably be harmed by the brute force of these soldiers. And she definitely did not want to test that theory.

The battle was on. Her mind changed into a laser-sharp focus, her intent reaching out to the material surrounding her. Yet as she was about to make the ichor bind the pair, she was met with resistance.

This is my domain, resounded in her mind.

She wanted to smack herself. Of course there was the Tarika present. And it would not allow her such an easy victory. But, unlike her, it could act only by a proxy.

With a grim determination, Orineth allowed one of the soldiers to come close. As it swung at her, she grabbed its arm, focusing on the black liquid driving the beast forward. This time, with direct contact, she succeeded. It responded to her, the bucking by the Second smothered under her intent. And then she was in. She felt for the four arms, the tooth-filled maw. The other soldier was right next to her. With savage glee, she punched. And again. And again. Brutal swipes by the huge claws followed by hits powered by the huge muscles. She barrelled the grunt with attacks, relishing the damage she caused. She had not felt the thrill of battle - maybe in an eternity, maybe never. But now, there was an enemy to crush. An enemy to serve as an outlet for her rage. A useless soldier, easily replaceable, but in her way. And a proxy of an entity she passionately hated. Someone she wanted to defeat, to trounce.

It was not even a fight. The one-sided pummelling ended as fast as it had began. There was no brain controlling her opponent. Just a Tarika with orders, not able to take full control of this tool of war. As the soldier fell, she tore through the channels inside the one she was controlling. With the ichor unable to flow, it couldn't work any longer. The black oozed out, joining the rest all over the floor. And with it, Orineth once again rematerialized, no longer melded with the monster.

Once again. What have you done?

Not even expecting an answer, she advanced towards the node - and the second Tarika, who hid behind it.

This time, she wasn't met with words. Instead, it had attacked her mind. But she was ready for that. There was not much it could do in this situation, so a mental attack was a par for course. And unlike before, she had seen the superior defence to this. She had met Sanja. And like her, she would not budge in front of this assault, one she actually knew by heart. The Second did not invent anything new. It was part of the Qyrora, and she was as well. Months ago, they would be evenly matched. Not this time. Now, the needle of its will bounced off of the steel of her mind, not even phasing her. And she was free to respond. To send her own intent out, to overwhelm her opponent, drown its free will, bring it to heel. Tear apart any distinction or personality it may have had. Flood its thought processes. And seize its memories. The memories she wanted answers from. Why ask, when she could just extract the information herself?

It was not there. No memory of tampering with Sanja. No evidence either. The only one was the one she was aware of. When it came to take her away. But since then, nothing. Frustrated, she dug deeper. Sifted through all that seemed relevant. All its time here in Darreha. Every interaction she had with the Second. Any idea about working with other beings - she found nothing. But still, there had to be something. Some clue. The Qyrora were connected. She should be able to glean something from this.

Finally, a single grain came to her attention. A single order from way back. One she had no memory of receiving - or anyone else, for that matter. An order from their direct superior. The Lereha. The Mouth of the Qyrora, the avatar of the will of her entire race and the supreme commander of this army. And the one entity she hoped was not involved in all of this. An entity that did not even have to be present. But its will was. And, as she just now learned, it was here. In Darreha. And commanding the other Tarikas, or some of them at least, to take control of every sentient they encounter.

She cursed. This was way beyond anything she could face. The will of the Qyrora was supreme. The order of things she never even thought of going against. Something omnipresent, that which drove them forward, that which made the key decisions. A machine, a mirror of the combined wills of all of Qyrora. She was part of it, both its child and a piece in the system. And now, it ran contrary to her wishes... Wishes. Something she never had before. Well, that had changed. She had changed with Sanja. And for that change would she be forever grateful - and would repay that debt... Although that was only a part of her motivation.

Maybe she could reason with it? ...Maybe the will could be changed. But not the Lereha. Not the Mouth. That, she had to confront. She sighed. She had really driven herself into a corner. But a cornered beast is the most dangerous one. And Sanja's blank face was a sight she wouldn't forget, one that would spur her on, one that she wanted to overturn, no matter the cost.

 

The second Tarika was gone. Nothing remained of the lieutenant of the Qyroran army. As she let the remains of its memories slip, she had released the last vestiges of its existence. She didn't care. One Tarika was gone. Sooner or later, another one would form to take its place. In the meantime, the others would take control. Another cog replaced, the Qyrora would nevertheless continue on. Orineth turned around and marched out of the door. She knew where to go and did not want to be late for this appointment, one which would decide her own existence. She did not turn back.

There was a chapel in the centre of Darreha. A place of worship, left standing even in the face of the invasion. Its lofty walls gave it a majestic feel, even if the building itself wasn't exactly large. Still, it dominated its surroundings, a temple to some god Orineth did not care for. Now, though, it was a temple to something else. This being, unlike its subordinates, seemingly knew the significance of the location it took for itself. Maybe she could ask?

That tiny flicker of humour brought her out of the dark space she let herself fall into during her walk. But not long after, she once again reminded herself of the futility of such musings and sunk back.

Finally, she reached the door to her destiny. To the chapel she knew a judge resided in. She took a deep breath - something she saw Sanja do - even when she did not need to breathe, and pushed the door. They swung inwards, the hinges well oiled. And there, in the centre of the sanctuary, stood, or more precisely floated, the Lereha.

You were awaited.

In a way, it was a mirror of herself. Of what she once looked like. One massive eye of petroleum blue suspended in a shadow and ichor, tendrils the size of her legs anchoring it to the ground, walls and ceiling.

Then you know what I'm here for, she replied.

A futile quest. The fate of the human has already been decided.

By whom? She was my ward. And I want her back! she shot back.

You were changed by the contact. You were corrupted. It is imperative you are righted.

Who decides that? she spat, You are just the voice. Not the decision maker.

The answer bore into her with the strength of the storm outside: I am.

 

She was gone. Gone from the present. Gone from the future. Gone from reality. Had she ever even existed? Was even the past a lie? Was this void even real? Or was it also a figment of someone's imagination. A twisted joke at the end of a journey. Whose journey? Was she even able to claim something to be hers? To decide something? To be something? Yet this nothing was made for her. It was her own nothingness. A place of no existence. And if it did not exist, she did not as well, no?

No. She had to tell herself that. Again. Ever again. No. No, no, no. Be it the void, be it an illusion. Be it a banishment, be it erasure. She was still here. And to herself, that was the truth. The one truth she could trust. She had to trust. Because if she did not, what would be left? No one, and not a trace to remember, no mark on the world, she would not have existed, be it at any time or place. And that, that was something she refused. She refused to be forgotten - no, not even that, as there would be nothing to forget. She would be. She would exist. She would peer into the void. And find a way back. To herself, to the reality she knew existed. And she had a recipe for that.

She still knew who she was, no? At least some part of her did. After all, she still knew she was Orineth. That she was a woman. Something she took for herself. Something internal to her, her own victory over the blandness that she had carried with her for all the time she could at some point remember. And wasn't that enough? It was enough for Sanja, no? ...Sanja. Right. She remembered her. She remembered the slight smile that began to blossom on her face once she began to change. To become how she saw herself. Same as Orineth. She had also decided who she was... And once she remembered that, she became aware of her body. One that had finally ended its journey, one similar to a human's, yet so different. She was still a Qyroran. That part had never changed. And even when someone tried to steal it from her, it would not go. Because it was a part of who she was. The crystalline part of her that was her inner self. One she took for herself and would give to no one. Surrender to no one. Even if all was torn from her, this would stay. And by the tears left, she would grab for the rest. First, her body, next... Her expression softened. The void was no longer empty. There was a face there. A face that was beginning to lose the stillness she dreaded. Now, she knew. If she took her self back, she would also get Sanja back. Orineth glared at the rest of the void. It would not stop her. It would not hinder her. Her prison? No, she would make it her own realm. She would conquer it and then take Sanja's hand.

 

Never does struggle seem futile more, then when you know how it ends. Yet the greatest desperation drives the greatest of changes. If the rigid will is lacking, a new path is formed. A path laid with determination, contrary to all who wish for a failure, but still true. As every thought is a part of the whole, there is none to be wrong, and the new is not a disruption, an innovation instead. What advances the world, is not only the deeds, but thoughts bear the same merit. Now, the time has come for a change, a turmoil to tear down the dams, let in the future. A new herald is born, a connection to all, the known and the unknown, to learn is the charge. A new day is here; awaken.

The word shook her out of her lethargy. A vision, the imposition of the will of Qyrora. Not of the Mouth. Once again, she knew who she was, where she was, and what she wanted. And that definitely was not the Lereha in front of her. So she charged. Not physically, no. But now she felt it - she was the stronger one. It was no longer the exemplar of the Qyrora. The paradigm had shifted.

Her intent pierced though its mind, leaving ashes in its wake. Today, she would be the only one leaving this chapel.

 

***

 

"Learn about the world and beings we encounter? Assimilate them into the greater whole? ... Once, I would still balk at such notion, and I still have the ability to do so. But I abhor the alternative. And for now, that is enough. That, and you here."

Orineth sneaked her hand into Sanja's. Finally, she could. And never wanted to let go. She had her back, and she would make sure she would never lose her again.

With time, it will change. We were left free reign. Which means we get to decide what the end result will be. ... And it means the two of us shall explore this world alone, not with the army. You made me curious. Now you have to pay.

Sanja squeezed the ink black hand with a smile: "And I shall pay gladly."