Chapter 10: 10. What Makes Us Human – Heresy City Arc

10. 10. What Makes Us Human – Heresy City Arc.

 

 

High Kraslucist Bedric made his way down the scenic tree-shaped paths, opulent shrubbery surrounding him, the place felt untouched by the modern world and felt like a scene in a child’s fairytale.

    He looked down at the person tugging at his robe, a little child grinned at him whilst holding him up and helping him walk. Bedric returned the smile and ruffled the child’s hair.

    “Adriyel. Tzadok.Válde.” Bedric began uttering the names of fallen Kraslucists in reverence, head held down with arms clasped in prayer. He continued past the blades embedded in the ground. The names of the fallen Lihaa are etched on the blade, acting as grave markers of sorts. “Mihkkel. Thurisaz. Dulcima. Gazil- “

     The High Kraslucist clutched his side and winced against the strain on his side. His adopted son steadied him before he could fall to the ground. “Father, I think we should turn back. For your sake, the Lihaa and the remaining Kraslucists need you.”

    “My children, and followers of our All-Mother, continue to lay down their lives even as we speak,” Bedric spoke, his voice carrying a sense of hope in it. “No matter how many Lihaa those heretics defeat in battle, they’ll never put out the raging flame in the hearts of our Kraslucists… Don’t worry Alphonse. We’ll go home soon and you won’t have to fear anything anymore, I promise that.”

     “I know you will father,” Alphonse responded with a smile and a cheery giggle, continuing to help his father even whilst visibly shaking from the effort. He paused. His gaze was in the direction of a field of thick, diamond-shaped red leaves that grew in tiny flowers, he pointed in their direction, and a gleam of childlike curiosity filled his eyes that brought a smile to the High Kraslucist’s face. “I remember mother telling me about these flowers, that they hold great importance to our people… Th-They’re as beautiful as I remember.”

    More servants were working on these specific flowers than anywhere else in the garden, some snuck gazes at the High Kraslucist before hurrying to finish their work. Others who were lazing about immediately found themselves with something to do, fearing the consequences.

     The old memories of his wife crashed into his mind like a falling object to gravity. The light dancing in her golden brown eyes reminded him of Alphonse’s expression when he got excited, the same quick yet heartfelt smile was seared into the back of his memories as he was transported back to this very field.

    “These flowers they…they’re beautiful.” A younger High Kraslucist said, his mouth hanging open even as his fiancé dragged him by the hand through the field. “I’ve never seen these before, are they native to the Holy City?”

    “Nope,” Camelia replied, bending down to pluck one of the diamond-shaped red flowers. Her smile painted in a faint pink lipstick was big and felt genuine. Her long, deep red hair flowed down the front of her shoulder, ending in a loose braid with light bangs reaching just above her eyebrows. “My mother said these were called the Dicentra Angelia. They’re extremely rare and bloom only once every few generations. Legend has it-“

    “You mean your gossiping servants?” Bedric replied in a calm playful tone accompanied by a little smirk of his own. Camelia gave him a playful shove as she let out a tiny giggle, soft and beautiful.

     “Fine, my gossiping servants say our All-Mother makes two flowers of flesh. One in the higher realm of Ctha-Yigoth for every Lihaa and another one here.” Camelia explained, leaning closer to Bedric, the flower standing between them. “When two lovers meet next to one in this realm, their flowers are joined into one, and out of that union comes the Dicentra Angelia. It’s a shame that they only maintain this beauty for six months unless it’s renewed when the two lovers meet again, but if they’re separated for more than six months then…”
    “It wastes away.” Bedric finished her sentence, catching the implication. “That’s why the Lihaa holds reverence for dead flesh flowers and  pray for them after meeting their beloved for after six months, to revive the Dicentra Angelia.”

    Camelia smiled and gave Bedric a light kiss on the cheek. “Exactly. It’s been a joy seeing you after all this time. I’m glad you survived.”
    The High Kraslucist returned to his senses, the dream evaporated into his consciousness as he returned to the garden, a smile on his face.

  “It’s called a Dicentra Angelia. The flower of our All-Mother Yhan or the Lover’s Flower, do you know why it points to heaven?” The High Kraslucist bent to a knee despite the excruciating pain hitting his side with the force of a lightspeed freight train. “Do you know why it’s called the Lover’s Flower or why it points to heaven?”

    Alphonse shook his head. Bedric pinched his cheeks, a smile forming on the child’s face before the High Kraslucist pulled him into a hug. “The reason why it’s called the Lover’s Flower and why it points to Heaven is because it was a gift from All-Mother Yhan to our people as a sign that our loved ones in Ctha-Yigoth will always remember the time they spent with us even as they transcend beyond their flawed flesh.”
     Bedric pulled back and got to his feet, swiping at the tears forming in his eyes in an attempt to be strong in front of his son. He noticed the servants looked at him strangely, once they caught sight of this they sprinted off in different directions.

    “Father,” Alphonse began, plucking two flows from the field and handing one to the High Kraslucist. “Let’s go visit mother, I bet she’ll love seeing these again.”

    Bedric nodded, he didn’t plan on surprising Camelia with her favorite flowers during a time like this but he appreciated his son’s gesture regardless. They made their way deeper into the gardens, bypassing more of his wife’s servants that attended to the opulent shrubbery around them.

     It felt like they were reenacting a scene in a child’s fairytale, the enormous black stone castles of Northern Edenia were scattered throughout the densely forested area with aristocratic manors spreading around the rest of it.

    This place reserved for the nobles and priests of the Holy City felt untouched by the rest of Veelon and had this picturesque, almost fantastical appeal to it. Rolling hills were covered with a patchwork of small olive groves, farms, and fields of red spider lilies.

   You always enjoyed the scenery around this place, Camelia. The High Kraslucist reminisced when they’d come here to rest after the Eldritch Crusade in the Ma’avak Era, after the uncertainty of whether they’d be killed by some abomination faded away and replaced with the splendor and beauty of the upcoming golden age that was the Gibor Era.

      Alphonse’s barely contained grin exploded into a smile from ear to ear, quickening his pace as Camelia’s presence could be felt. She looked calm as she lay down in rest in the grass of the gardens, unfazed by whatever was going on outside this place.

   Alphonse nearly dropped the flower he had in hand as he made his way to her, Camelia remained where she lay, looking heavenwards even as Bedric and his son glanced at each other. It was as if both of them were at a loss for words, wondering what to say next.

    Camelia grinned at the sight of the roses, Bedric slipped a hand over his son’s, the clouds above began to turn a dark shade of grey, and it would begin to rain soon. Alphonse’s attention was on his mother who was still grinning at him, her crimson red hair still covering the side of her face took Bedric back almost thirty years ago when they were still young.

     Alphonse returned the grin, lips quivering once he began to speak to her. “Thank you, for everything. I hope you’re still looking down from up above, watching over us from up there. Thank you, mother.”

    Bedric wished Camelia would get up and wrap her arms around them both but not even the most powerful forms of fresh craft could bring her back. She’s only here in spirit after all.

   Her ornate, marble tombstone was a heartbreaking reminder of that fact, the engraving on the gravestone only compounded this

    A Loving Wife. A Great Mother. And a gifted Kraslucist. Rejoice in the next world with Yhan. Forever and Always.

    Bedric didn’t even notice the tears streaming down his face, remembering the day that caused all this and the root of his hatred of the ba’alei shem and exorcists of the Old Order.

    The rain hammering down on the cobblestones of the darkened city, cold as death.

    The sound of the young Kraslucist disciples’ footsteps echoed around the empty city like gunshots in silence. The two of them dashed down the alleyways of the city after hours, having been out after the city-wide curfew imposed by the city elders they were left to their own devices.

      The silver embroidered flaps of the white cloaks fluttered in the heavy winds, and the holy runes of Yhan that was a solemn reminder of the inevitability of death only made their situation feel worse.

    The figure chasing them manifested in front of the two of them, it was so quick the young Kraslucist disciples thought they’d imagined it, just a rapid blur of brown fur weaving past them.

    The creature’s teeth gleamed in the moonlight, and the sound of rain slapping against the grotesque monstrosity of sharp, snarling jaws, was the only thing a young Bedric could hear for miles.

    The hydra-esque hound looked like it’d seen its fair share of combat already. The multi-headed abomination of a wolf lowering itself, hairs spiking up at attention, its claws churned and twitched as it advanced as if reality itself couldn’t comprehend its form, dimensions, or the way it moved.

    Bedric extended his arm into an elongated, spiked club, swinging at the beast in a wide arc directed at its legs.

   The beast swiped at it with one of its paws, severing his hand in an instant. The bloodstained fingers on the severed hand sprung into action, moving like a spider in the way it found its way back to Bedric, fusing with his other arm.

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     The city sent out an order to the exorcists four weeks ago, where the hell are they? We’ll be dead at this rate!

  The seemingly endless pairs of endless, empty white voids that parodied the eyes of a hound studied the two Kraslucist disciples with predatory glee.

     It darted around so fast for an abomination its size, only leaving blurs in its wake. The two of them attempted to intercept as many blows as they could but not even their regeneration could keep up with the beasts' onslaught.

      “Damn demon!” Bedric yelled through gritted teeth, flying backward from an attack. He planted his boots into the ground, leaving craters in his wake “Camelia! We need to retreat, it’s far beyond our capabilities!”

     “There’s no one else that can stop it right now! We became Kraslucists to protect the Holy City! We have to do whatever we must to do so!”

  “What can we protect if we’re dead”

“What will  the point of being a Kraslucist be if there is no Holy City!”

   Without another word she charged at the Klipah, using a combination of her specialized body alteration techniques and litheness to dodge most of the onslaught, like a snake coiling its way through the night.

     Camelia shifted one of her hands into long sickle-like appendages and swung it in wide, sweeping arcs. She was a gifted disciple but no match for the Klipah, who intercepted each blow with ease, it wasn’t a fight she’d win easily.

     After a long and intense exchange of strikes, Camelia’s breathing grew ragged from the stretched-out fight, the Klipah showed no signs of fatigue only roaring as if wondering how such an insignificant creature could ever dare stand up to it.

    “It’s of no use, wielders of the arts of flesh! No matter how hard you try you cannot harm me!” The Klipah ridiculed the two of them, taking a sickening delight in doing so. Its voice sounded like some abominable hound from the long-forgotten, indescribable depths of hell trying to mimic a human voice, it was almost unnerving how close it resembled a human soul. “Only that born of the Abyss can harm the children of the Abyss! Fighting me with the flesh arts is like trying to heal a decapitation with a bandage, it’s of no use, surrender to your fate and maybe I’ll devour you as fast as possible.”

   Camelia drew her blade and moved in to attack again, leaping out with a yell, the Klipah anticipated this as if on instinct alone. Bedric watched on in absolute horror, a blur of disturbing violence, his beloved let out a large spray of blood the minute the Klipah rushed at her.

   Even in her bloodied state, she held onto her blade and engaged the beast once more, her back turned to Bedric as she stood right in front of the Klipah.

    There’s no one else that can stop it right now! We became Kraslucists to protect the Holy City! We have to do whatever we must to do so! Camelia’s words echoed in his mind, an idea crept into his mind, an idea he’d never even give the light of day for a lifetime, it was almost as if some otherworldy voice spoke in his mind, urging him on. Your opportunity lies in front of you, at your crossroads of destiny, you have the choice to pursue an Edenia without your beloved or an Edenia in ruins from the rampage of Klipah. The hand of fate has already been dealt, it has been preordained that you will walk the very path of the monster you so despise and that the blade of death will come down on you, you cannot escape the path we have set out for you.

    “Y-Yes. I have a choice to make, b-but if I do this she’ll…” Bedric paused, struggling to contemplate his only choice, his hand mutating into a bow, the fingers of the bloodstained hand turned into arrows that he cocked and aimed at the Klipah’s direction.

    . The hand of fate has already been dealt, it has been preordained that you will walk the very path of the monster you so despise. The otherworldly voice’s eerie words seem to have a grasp over him like a dybbuk latching on to its possessed host.

     He reached his arm out, and surges of purple filled the veins of his mutated limbs, swelling and moving underneath his skin until it enveloped his skin.

    There’s no one else that can stop it right now! We became Kraslucists to protect the Holy City! We have to do whatever we must to do so! Camelia's words crashed into his mind once more almost as if he was trying to use them to justify what he was about to do.

   Why am I hesitating? I-I-If I don’t do this, no one will be able to kill this thing. Most of the trained Kraslucists either ran away or were killed and if Camelia, the most talented disciple can’t defeat it then there is no hope. B-But how can I… Bedric thought, his lower lip quivering whilst tears swam in his eyes, He struggled between two evils, gritting his teeth and cursing the Old Order for abandoning Edenia. She’s my goddamn fiancée! It’s all my fault, maybe if I were stronger I’d be by her side. I wish there was another way, forgive me, Camelia.

   Bedric released his grip and turned away, somehow wishing he missed or that Camelia somehow managed to see it coming and dodge. The sound of flesh ripping only confirmed the dark reality to him, tears flowed down his face like a critical wound letting out pools of blood except to Bedric it was like he had shot an arrow through his own heart.

    He looked in his fiancée’s direction, the anguish in his shadowed, teary eyes could be felt as much as his heartbroken screams, he placed his palms on the sides of his face, struggling to cope with this reality.

    He rushed to the scene of the crime, Camelia and the Klipah were both pierced by the sheer force of the arrow, hooked onto the nearby wall in a splatter of blood.

  “N-No! Please this can’t be true! Tell me Yhan, tell me this isn’t true!” Bedric cried out to the heavens only to be met with cruel indifferent silence, the very goddess he would lay down his life for abandoned him as he clutched his lover’s limp body in his arms.

    This is the path fate has set out for your apostle of the void, all roads lead to this path regardless. Those who weren’t chosen by destiny must be culled, for they aren’t worthy of the paradise that the heralds will bring.

   “W-What the hell are you!” Bedric screamed out to the darkness, it was so thick and overwhelming that he could swear it was trying to swallow him whole. It just kept twisting and coiling around him like a serpent with a hold of its prey until he was completely enveloped by it.

     Soon he found himself in the middle of an ornate Victorian room except it was wrong on so many levels, the sense of direction he’d believed in to guide him like a light in the forest was completely wrong. It was like he was plunged into an abyss that he couldn’t even detect until it was too late.

    His mind struggled to figure out the paradoxical nature of its dimensions, stairs ascended skywards only to tilt and collapse in on themselves and form new ones in an irregular random pattern.

     The roof of the room spiraled endlessly beyond normal geometry and the ornate doors with demonic iconography were in the most peculiar of places, carved in shapes that resembled a circle, a triangle, or some non-euclidean shape the Kraslucist disciple couldn’t even grasp.

    In front of him, seated on an exquisite table of oak draped with an embroidered white tablecloth, a single male figure dressed in tight red trousers and a waistcoat of fine scarlet silk with a high upstanding collar and necktie.

     “Wh-Who the hell are you?” Bedric asked, beads of sweat beginning to form on his forehead. He placed both his hands on the sides of his head, falling to his knees with widened eyes. “Wh-What is this?”

     “I am what you souls call the ‘The Divine Heir of Decay’, ‘The Beast of the Ma’avak Era’ or ‘The Herald of the Void’, or maybe you know me by my more familiar name.” The man said, his gaze alone had the power to unravel a person’s sanity, thread by thread with minimum effort, Bedric immediately avoided his gaze. “The Maleficient Earl, Mammon. Welcome to your baptism in the Abyss, you ignorant soul.”

      Bedric didn’t even notice the abhorrent tentacle-like chains emerge from the floor, holding him in place even whilst he tried using flesh craft to escape, it was futile. He looked over his shoulder and noticed a colossal pair of doors emerge from nowhere.

    Th-Those aren’t doors. His eyes widened upon realizing that what he was gazing at was a massive set of jaws that wrenched open, a massive tongue covered in grotesque eyeball-like parasites shot out of the gate and wrapped itself around him.

     Bedric screamed and thrashed against the

   

 

 

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