A crooked dreamer.
A hopeless child.
A son with no more.
What I was once before is no longer.
What I am is a constant of change.
And change does not get constant in one's life until long after they're no longer.
Destroying this world for the ones that wish it no harm, destroying this world to keep its beauty intact.
Because, he said, it will be not. He was not afraid of the unrelenting judgement, he stood sharp in his own truth.
While thinking over the choices he'd had, I left him no judgement towards my own. Being alive was not a perfect virtue, being dead was not a perfect vice.
Not being was the ultimate imperfection.
I would stand atop him, and prove him in what I knew. To prove him in what was reason, what was not, and what is no longer. For I was a Nightmare.
I laughed and I laughed. I couldn't laugh as hard or as loud as him; his ears weren't connected to the bones inside his head. Like a puzzle piece, I could break him down.
Unhinge him. Unforge the world and forge its impossibilities and force them onto every crooked angle and twisted limb, I needed to show everyone that I was right.
I was right.
I was always right.
From the start to the end, I wanted everyone to know that no matter how much their phenomenon spoke to them, no matter how much one or how many can fall under me, I would never relent.
—The First Anarchist
"Then could we all be demons to you? Azkites are just... Corrupted as they are born? Is that what you believe?" Zabulus asked Phronta.
Both of them were sitting down inside the tunnel, the gentle warmth coming from the ground's structure. Heat had warmed them and turned any cold into a slight annoyance; the slightest bother. Her breaths calmed, her body language was more relaxed. Almost in a motion, her and Zabulus were taking an eye out for any movement either underground or above.
"That's not it, it's.... just about the legends... My mother taught me that there once existed a great Azkite ruler that brought nothing but endless onslaughts to anything unfortunate enough to cross his and the Azkites' path. He thought of them the same way humans believe the devil does, that I heard. And my mother says that it would've been the biggest genocide of our time had it not been for a king called Golith... He was known as the king of humanity. Did you really never know about these stories? They're told at almost every kingdom and land I've known about." She spoke plainly and tried not to hide away anything, she had nothing to gain, and frankly, it would seem insulting had she tried to bend her words in any direction.
"Well, I suppose since we have time. I could tell you about myself, I think it's only fair. What do you think? If we're going to be traveling together, I can't have you know nothing about me." Zabulus sat on the ground and leaned against the cool stone walls.
"Sure, sure..." Phronta affirmed, while staying put. Not really expecting to move from where she was.
Zabulus opened his mouth up and spoke, for what felt like hours upon hours, he told Phronta of his first memories of being born, the many souls that came before him and after.
The girl he knew as Alice. The coward known as Laz. The warrior known as Aeneus. The soul that never left, Vetro.
But slowly, each and every word, in the eclipse of his mind, phantom silhouettes slowly shaped around the darkness. Hearing the very words and seeing the very memories play out. Their figures might've started out as dark blobs, but with every sentence he spoke, the silhouettes were all the more like creatures of his home that weren't there before.
Once again, uncaring as can be. Feeding him more and more, his soul was being eaten bit by bit. Slowly, yet surely.
He tells a half lie and a half truth; "So on and so forth was my life, and once I met someone, who became my first friend. She looked a little bit like you, more muscled up though. And she started with her pink hair that turned light blue after a while... I think it's the woman you know as the White Queen. The difference is her eyes, they're a lot different. Oh... What am I to do now if she sees my face again? What if she sees you with me? What if..."
"I-I don't mean to sound rude, but I've no reason to think that a friend would abandon you so easily over... the Forty...Eight..." She sounded so unsure, her stutter had become dry and gone when her brows creased. But immediately afterward, it had resumed to her status-quo.
Slightly annoyed by that pause, Zabulus changed the subject to her. "Do the humans have any legends about any other beings aside from the Azkites?" Zabulus asked so.
"Others? That's hard to say, I'm trrying to remember, but it has been so many years since my... since I've been in school."
...
"..." Neither or one of the two spoke, because not a single word was willing to make it past the air of silence. A moment for the things of the universe to know, a moment for them to join together in the singularity. The world was spinning, and when a man is focused, he goes nowhere. So do his enemies. "Well, you should try to remember something from whatever comes to mind... Wherever your mind went, why not take a step back and help yourself rediscover what you once knew?"
With little effort, barely visible, her tiny head bobbed up and down and turned downcast. A response, small, meaningless, insignificant in the scope of history... was able to push what she had down her throat long enough to speak in words of meaning, with no speck of what she tried so desperately to force back down and hold back her shaking bones and sweat.
Because her body and her soul were bound to the will of her mind.
Through those words, and to her listener.
Through the body of flesh and bone and blood.
To the soul from the deepest depths.
Through the air of silence, she spoke the words he could never hear in a magnitude that should've shaken the world.
"...Sloth..."
"What did you say...?" He asked; Phronta's words nearly vanished in the air. "All that thinking made you look rather worried—must've been from so long ago."
"...I remember only three more. There is the story of the woman with wings of black, black as night itself. Some say she's the reaper. Others say she was born from the fires and bloodshed of her birthplace. Others... called her Cerusine. She was a pure creature with a hideous form to behold. Her name became lost to time, only so few know it now... Her purpose became one of the thirteen nightmares of this world. No longer was it being the innocent-turned-monster, it was her new law. One that deemed what is not, is, and what cannot be. Eventually felled by her own mind. People believe in her kind a bit like people do with God, She was once a normal child... She was... Yet her dreams of love turned sour and... turned into nothing but absolute fear within the people of the worlds. People said she was simply an avenger turned into a twisted, demented, creature. But... I believe that she was just afraid. She was still a child in mind- I mean, I don't know that for sure but, it's what I know..." Her shoulders jerked slightly. As if her heart finally told herself what it thought of that, "She became a mindless beast... they all say that..."
The bitterness of her response laid naked in the tense air as it grew frigid.
"Is that what you think happened? That she lost all reason when all she wanted was a happy and loving home?" Zabulus jestingly asked.
"If it was the case, then you would see too. That she did not lose her mind like they say. She was simply born loving the wrong beings." Phronta quickly replied, if only to stop him from speaking more of this; her eyes darted from side to side in an attempt to find comfort and safety in her arms.
"I see. So the idea of peace between Azkites and humans doesn't trouble you or get on your nerves when you hear it?" He changed subjects once again, unsure of how to carry this conversation. It was clear to Zabulus that she had almost nothing going on inside her mind that could give her comfort, even in the safety of a good conversation; so he threw out the ones he would've been normally interested in discussing, just to make her have a happier day.
She closed her eyes and rested. "...they are a bit like n-n-nuisances... Is t-that the right way of d-dealing with it...?"
'What's up with the stuttering?' Zabulus thought, pondering for a moment until he stood up. Standing ever so silently, he needed only one word before pointing at a dim light. "The entrance. We'll need to sneak up, be careful. Best bet is to follow behind me and stay quiet."
"Huh? Oh yeah, yeah!... Don't worry."
Faintly shining, he could see the glint of the torches reaching from outside. Just beyond the barrier that barred any person that might try to get in or out. He felt like the person, or people, who stood on the other side were getting further and further away. Less threatening and more like less of a possibility, the two walked forward. Almost in slow motion, each foot they both placed one in front of the other was an eternity to his sanity, and the moment either side moved, be it arm, torso, head, or leg, it was an ache to his impatience.
He was, maybe, as soft on his steps as Phronta was. But in the atmosphere he was like a landmine; at a moment's notice he could either stay silent or end up destroying the entire tunnel behind himself.
He kept touching the wall and slid his hand across as he'd progressed forward. As the exit narrowed, the two carried on, finding nothing and no one still, had reached a dead end with a rickety door that's hinges were likely to fall off the moment a little force was applied. Turning the knob and giving the push needed caused it to give itself away, creaking like a coffin lid. But it held its composition. He stepped through carefully, holding the door against his back while the girl slipped on through, standing behind him... For she was watching closely. Carefully looking to spot anything or anyone nearby.
After letting the door go shut with a single, "Click." It all went according to plan. No big moment where there was any life closeby, no sense of doubt that could cause any unnecessary attention from below. The heat coming from the soil didn't stay for long, no longer seeping through the walls and ground, the smell was washed away instantly.
A gentle breeze brushed past him as he lifted his arms into the air. Stretching and shivering in the cooling temperature, he regained some of his lost resolve to keep going. But not what was needed most—rest. His mind was tired from trying to come to the realization that perhaps something was wrong with it.
And going through the tunnel made him somewhat nervous, even if he never really felt that way, not often. Sometimes not at all. It was a dreadful feeling that nearly froze him in place and almost made him feel sick. Staying here wouldn't be so bad, would it?
"Say, uh, Phr-Phronta, was it?"
"Yeah, hm, are we staying here for the night?"
"That's exactly what I was thinking, don't know about you but it's a bit cold, huh?" He laughed at that as he began to take deep breaths and settle in.
"Y-yeah, it's a bit cold out... B-but isn't w-w-warmer back in the a-air? Won't it be a bit b-better if we head toward an exit and rest under th-there?"
"Don't be unreasonable, we'll get spotted faster than an idiot could figure something out." He chuckled, "There's bound to be many exits to the outside walls than there is doors leading to this tunnel. Anyways, I'm perfectly comfortable."
'This guy...' Phronta was a little frustrated, she'd been trying to calm down for the better part of this day. She gripped her forearm a bit too tightly and slowly stood up and decided to check around just to look for anywhere else warmer. "B-but, l-l-look, th-this should b-be o-okay, R-R-"
"Hey, you okay?"
"Y-yeah, o-one moment... AGH!" Phronta bent down and held her leg, while gently moving her knee up and down.
"So which one do you have?"
"T-what?"
"You were trying to tell me something, right?"
"N-no, no, no, d-don't mind it. W-we should... find the exit and f-forget we were even here..."
"Hm." He figured that someone was watching them, and that she simply couldn't say anything about it otherwise they might attack, but he found that strange.
According to Reiah's memories, the only people that should know about the passageways should be few and far in between, let alone anyone residing within the walls of Onkhivol.
So unless his assumption was correct, the girl was either hiding something or is acting shy because of it.
As for the latter, he couldn't tell why they suddenly appeared. Being a tad unnerved, Phronta saw it fit to glance around and make sure that she and him were alone.
"You're certain now?" Zabulus asked, "I guess after spending so long in that tunnel, you can't help but stutter all over yourself..."
It struck him at that point.
She was worried about something else entirely.
"Maybe y-you're right... but... m-my legs don't hurt any-anymore. Uh, sorry for wasting t-time, b-but... I'm fine... You know, d-don't stare." She hastily brought both hands up to cover herself as if to hide the flesh and bone underneath her clothes, only for the top half of her body to gently rise upwards.
Zabulus assumed incorrectly and backed away the moment he realized that... She was crying. "Hey..." Zabulus hesitated a little before giving her his hand.
She took his and cried softly as she nearly suffocated, the words she needed so much were just on the edge of her teeth. Like a pin dropping to the floor, like a finger slowly moving the tip of a weapon over another's throat.
'Just keep quiet, nothing bad can come of it if she stays the way she is' was all Zabulus could muster in order to convince himself that everything was alright.
Phronta noticed his 'gaze', she immediately raised her face and lifted herself up and pulled herself a little closer, trying to speak softly, as if the noise alone would shatter something far more important than a little calm, "I'm... not s-stupid, y-you're making it... s-sound as if we're d-doomed to fail."
"Huh? No, no, no. Don't worry. There's still plenty of daylight ahead of us. Now come on. We can keep looking around but... we deserve a little rest after walking so long down these paths."
Phronta opened her eyes a bit wider and followed suit, dragging her feet around in a sluggish and lethargic fashion, "Okay... Okay..." she continued to say it until there was not a speck of self-esteem left within her mind and her eyes started to shed tears again; this time they had run down her cheeks, her jaw, her throat, her collar, her neck, her shoulder, and her clothing had already began to dry up the stains. "I just... can't come to terms with myself. I'm nothing but a coward."
Phronta stayed up without much energy, eventually growing so tense and still to the point that her expression looked so serious. And in the slightest twitch of her body, there it came, the shock, the surprise, the sorrow and anger filled her mind and soul. Her bones creaking and muscles going all the way against her bones, straining them, her flesh tearing itself and burning at the sight of a blurry blob running towards her; she raised both her palms up and pushed whatever that thing was, nearly throwing her over. Her blood was running hot from how terrified she was, unable to look away, not that it was safe to, the object crashed onto the floor a ways off, scraping its skin and turning over to glance up at her...
The realization dawned upon her, realizing that what she saw had merely fallen over.
"..."
She couldn't breathe, not any longer.
"...Phronta? H-Hey, wh-what's going on!? Speak to me! Come on... don't-"
She fell to her knees and he embraced her, putting aside his own anxieties. Her words could be barely understood from beneath her sweat. Even so, in his mind, she was still trying to act tough... but she simply needed a release from her nightmares. He could read that much just by hearing the utterances from her lips, the unintelligible words that barely reached his ear and still understood that she was still crying and... mumbling something... something he felt he shouldn't have known, something he was afraid to know. Something about the colors that didn't make a lick of sense to him.
He held her there, she clutched his skin.
Her voice, it was as clear as the day and his ears weren't playing tricks on him.
It was as clear as the nights when he had no control over his own body; like how she could've screamed out her troubles without any worry,
But alas, what was happening before her very own eyes could not be believed. In fact, she refused to think of this moment as possible.
...
A day later, they both woke up to the sound of a thud coming from above.
"Someone else...?" He said, puzzled.
"Wait... T-they're coming."
"Who!?"
"...I know th-their voices... but, where do we go?" She was still recovering from the tears she cried the previous night, so all she wanted to do was close her eyes, sleep, and pretend to have forgotten about all her embarrassing display.
"We have to run, then. I'll lead the way. Stay close, got it?"
"Got it..."
He quickly walked towards the opposite direction from where the sound came from, and touched the wall.
A door formed in front of them, as if an illusion that was finally exposed for what it truly was. He placed his palm onto it, and pushed forward.
"Whooosh."
The harsh winds of the outside world nearly pulled the door and Zabulus away, the only thing visible from in front was nothing but a view of the city of Onkhivol, where he once walked with Onofre.
No stairs, no gates, no border. Nothing except a fall that would surely be the end of anyone caught up in it, he grabbed Phronta and carried her over his shoulders, and just as he did, he heard voices behind him.
"HALT! AZKITE! TRAITOR DAUGHTER! YOU ARE PRISONERS OF THE FORTY-EIGHT!"
"Traitors and criminals will be slain and no longer are able to leave their prison!"
"Do not move, Azkite!"
"You will pay for wasting the Forty-Eight's gift in such a terrible fashion."
And he only had one response.
"Bah, fuck you!"
Lunging forwards onto the air, it became a free-fall that didn't slow down, and didn't appear to let up at any rate.
To make a safe landing, to make sure that Phronta was safe...
Even though the dark of the devil owed nothing to the light of the angel.