Re:Cursed

Chapter 138 - 137: Return Alone

By all means, the white light of the accretion disk wasn't any less intense than the yellow of the Null Scar sun, yet Nyxil welcomed its touch. It was comforting. The candescence clawed at her skin in a way that was familiar; not the sickly heat of the desert sky.

She watched the swirling pupil of stars as it bled into the Great Iris. The activity hadn't stopped. If anything, the twisting speckles only shifted faster than when she'd descended below the surface.

Nyxil could hardly believe it was the same day.

The murkiness of the first fog was only now seeping across the surface. Streets were already bare. Those that couldn't defend themselves had already long crawled away in their holes. Looking at the brief shifting silhouettes that were gone before any shape could be discerned, Nyxil questioned whether she should slither into her own hole.

She had the strength now well beyond average; the surface fogs could hardly bother her. Well, that was the hope. But as with all unknowns, safety was never a certainty. Especially if the fogs were symptoms of bound gods, as Little God had hinted.

The thought of her Eyeball reignited her earlier frustration.

Nyxil didn't like having what was hers taken from her. As absurd as it was, the Eidolon's had taken Little God from her. Just as Shelo'Su'Senalos had taken her sceptre. He was her little figment.

She would take them both back.

…one was going to be a touch harder than the other.

Her gaze fell to the thick steel shutters of the Rearing Ward. She'd spent more nights here than anywhere else, yet it didn't feel right being back.

This is where I'm going to evolve?

The place she grew up didn't feel even slightly safe enough to be where she nested. Unfortunately, she didn't have any better options.

Tarchon's home was still a destroyed pit. The man hadn't bothered rebuilding in the short time before the Trials. Then there was the Technocult's cathedral; it refused her entry. The moving tunnels blocked off all roads leading in, and the tunnel itself was barred to her.

It was unsettling… but mostly insulting.

The Technocultists had all but dropped out of existence. Nyxil was supposed to be working with them to beat the Trials. Now, it was almost as if they had forgotten about her and the protection they'd offered.

If they were using her as bait…

A soft clenching of the skin at her waist caught her attention. Pushy was pinching her. Or, pinching as well as a tentacle could. The four weren't exactly hard.

Taking the hint, Nyxil snapped out of her fugue and struck the heavy knell. She expected the intercom to flare to life. Instead, the shutters clattered upwards. Some of the caretakers could be incredibly lax in their security… but even for them, this was pushing it.

Nyxil was met with a wall of faces. Anxious faces. Most were caretakers she recognised — albeit shamefully unable to place many names to faces — ones that had most often been with her cohort. They were surprised to see her, shocked even, yet by the way they all looked past her, she could tell it wasn't her they were waiting for.

Selail spoke through the dim murmur. "Nỷx̱il, I'm glad you're safe. Even if-"

The New Overseer was interrupted by a clamour of stomping feet as a handful of heads popped around the corner that led to Nyxil's old room. Young heads. Ones that stood out amongst the predominately adult crowd lingering in the entrance hall.

They, too, fell in disappointment as their eyes searched past Nyxil.

"No one?" a girl asked.

Those around her shared similar sentiments. One boy didn't even stay long enough for that. They turned and ran the way they came.

"You should try to get some rest," a caretaker said, his voice unusually soft. "We'll come get you if we hear anything."

"Our naming ceremony was months ago. Isn't it about time you treated us as adults?" The boy's voice was aggravated, verging on shouting. "You can't keep this from us." While none of the other ward-mates spoke, it was clear they agreed.

The caretaker that told them to head back opened his mouth to deny them, but was interrupted before he could.

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"Leave them," Selail said. A tinge of sorrow sullied her tone. "Roy is right. We cannot coddle them forever."

She turned back to Nyxil, opened her mouth, yet she had no words. Selail's lips quivered. Her eyes flickered to the other concerned gazes at her side.

It wasn't difficult to read what the overseer wanted to ask.

"They won't be coming." That was about as lighthanded as she was willing. She was impatient to evolve.

"They won't?" Selail repeated, eyes wide and staring out into the open as Nyxil walked past her. She twisted with a blink. "You came back, and we weren't even expecting you. We just need to wait a little more."

Nyxil paused. The teens ahead of her were frozen; hope remained with their overseer's words. But as Nyxil cast her eyes over the caretakers around her, she found very few shared any optimism. Most were downcast, expecting… knowing the worst.

The men and women who remained in the rearing wards into their adult years did so because they couldn't handle the brutality of the cults. In a way, they were cowards. Instead of fighting the way things were, they hid from it. Nyxil had once thought their minds were innocent of the horrors outside the confines of these steel cages… but no. As her gaze wondered the fallen expressions of those around her, she knew, they were as aware of the tragedy as any cultist.

Their steel cage was glass.

Only Selail's eyes met Nyxil's. "No-" They glistened: wet.

"I was the last."

"Nỷx̱il, please-"

It was curious that Solail knew her full name now, but it mattered little. Likely Trial rumours.

"If they haven't returned yet, then they are more than likely dead."

As Nyxil turned and pushed past the stunned teens, Solail's muffled sobs followed her. Some, despite everything, really did block their ears to the world around them.

She turned the corner, and almost tripped over Kal.

"So… they're dead, huh?"

Nyxil didn't answer. She could see in his eyes there was no need. He grit his teeth, but made no more comment. Whether he admit it to himself or not, Kal had been lucky to have the beat down he had. His friends hadn't — nor had they listened to him — and now they were dead.

Kal lingered in the hallway throat as Nyxil pushed deeper, his expression pained.

Compared to the entrance hall, the dorm was silent. Neither lounge, nor kitchen hosted a soul and as wandered down the corridor of rooms, she heard not a whisper through the doors. It was empty.

Just how many of her cohort had been lost to the pharaoh?

Half-way to what had once been her room, Nyxil stopped. Her knuckles rapped on the hard surface. The knock rung a little too clearly to be mistaken for bone, but before the echoes faded into the background and she could worry about the atypical sound, the door opened.

"Nỷx̱il?" Ari asked, surprised. "I didn't expect to see you today. How'd the Trials go?"

She peered over Ari's shoulder, finding the room empty. A sinking feeling welled in her gut. "Where's Dan?"

Ari glanced back, as if searching for him herself. "He had to go with his cult. One of the upper creeds decided whatever is going on with the Great Iris is a good omen for our group of Trial goers, and took them up to their Observatory."

Nyxil let out a relieved breath.

Ari stared at her for a long moment. "What happened today? They didn't let any of us stay after the Null Scar rifts collapsed."

"Well, only three of us are continuing to the final Trial." Nyxil decided to start with the good news.

"That's amazing. Wha-" whether it was something in Nyxil's expression, or her intuition, Ari paused, frowning. Her eyes flicking to the door. "The rest… they're dead, aren't they?

"Most, yeah. I doubt there were many who ran away before everything went to shit. There was an ancient creature in there, Ari. A ruler of a long dead race." Nyxil should have kept the details to herself, but she couldn't stop herself. "If it had taken even a little care in clearing out its curses, I would have been dead."

"If…" Ari started. "If you need a hug?"

Nyxil shook her head. "No. I'm not bothered by that." She flashed a smile, strained as it was from the death of so many of her ward-mates. "I got out very well off. Do you mind watching over me? I could use your help; just wake me up if anyone tries to interfere while I evolve."

That made Ari's eyes widen. Her welcoming gesture fell away as she stared. "Again? Didn't you only evolve last week?"

A laugh bubbled out Nyxil's throat. She couldn't have stopped it if she tried. Yes, it really had been a short time between evolutions. Sure, it was mostly because she took down something she absolutely had no right to, but it showed it was possible. She could reach heights that were once impossible.

Nyxil just needed to keep pushing herself.

Ari snorted, apparently getting a kick out of Nyxil's reaction. "Well, when you become a cult leader, remember who watched you sleep this one time. I could use some strings pulled."

While fighting back the urge to refute any connection to — or possibility of becoming — the cult leaders, Nyxil nodded. She would definitely be making plays for Ari… though not in the way the girl wanted. Coral could turn on its head before she willingly helped a friend into a cult. No matter how much Ari desired the Omen Artisans.

"Sure," she said, sliding into the room as Ari shut the door behind her.

Conveniently, Ari already had a pentagram drawn on the panelled floorboards. Nyxil scratched at the chalk. In less than a minute, she was ready to start.

"You mind if I copy that circle while you sleep?" Ari asked, though her pen was already racing across the page of her notebook.

"If I said no, would you stop?"

Ari paused, eyes glancing over the top of her book. Nyxil noticed she didn't put it away.

"Then should I ask how you found yourself with a Fleshsmith ritual?"

When Nyxil sat within her ritual, completely ignoring the quesion, Ari smothered a smirk. The sketching resumed.

Not that Nyxil had any issue letting the girl take the ritual for her own. Anyone could evolve when the time was right by simply falling asleep. Using a ritual was simply more convenient, and didn't rely on the finicky natural process that could sometimes leave you stranded while all the names you actually intended to evolve were ready.

It was a necessity for anyone over the second evolution. Well, unless you were immortal.

…Nyxil really should consider unveiling all the Fleshsmith rituals. The ones she knew were only those known to the lower creeds, but the cult would be enraged nonetheless.

The candles lit, and Nyxil settled into meditation. She could always come up with methods to agitate the cults later.

She had an evolution to claim.