The Fall of the Vaal (storytime)

So, this was a piece of Wraeclast-related historical fiction that I spent some time writing. I had initially intended this for the contest, but I screwed the pooch and missed that the parameters of the contest are restricted to fanart submissions.
I figured I'd go ahead and share it anyways. I hope some of you find it to be an enjoyable read, if a bit long and speculative.



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We saw their shambling silhouettes before long before they arrived. Solaris had scarcely opened her incandescent eye as they came sluggishly clambering up the mountains. A group, maybe a few thousand strong, of men and women shuffling in near lockstep into the center of our little village, where they came to a soundless stop and silently stood with vacant and listless eyes. It could not be. It was not possible.
Our elders came to meet them, to see what had become of this sad group, each of them unmoving, unspeaking, as if still awaiting a judgment that had already arrived.
"Friends! What has become of you?" One of our elders ventured. No reply. Only a palpable and unsettling silence from the group. Only our village, gathered in a semicircle around them, whispered amongst ourselves. This pitiful cohort, broken and bleeding and unable to speak, yet so magnificently arrayed in the finest garb, they were unmistakably Vaal. It simply could not be, but it was all but certain. We could not deny our eyes, and yet we could not believe what we were seeing.
We resolved to shelter them, as they had once sheltered us, and to endeavor to help them heal from whatever atrocity had stricken them so grievously, which had stolen their very voices and left them mute. Over the weeks, we fed them, cared for them, dressed their wounds, but we could not breathe the sight back into their jaundiced eyes. Whatever they had seen had been so unfathomable that it had sliced a deep gash into all of their minds, and none could or would speak of it.
Our elders considered whether we should descend the mountains of our home to piece together the events for ourselves. We desperately needed to know, and yet fear struck our hearts every time we caught a glimpse of their deadened eyes. We simply could not take the risk.
One day, as we were taking a count of the survivors, one of them turned and met our collective gaze. We could all but feel the crushed intellect, the nearly annihilated soul, struggling to make sense of what it had seen. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but no sound breached her lips.
All the same, we saw progress. We took her to our elders. She stood in the center of the hut. "Can you tell us what happened?" One among us asked.
"No." A simple response, but the first articulation of any kind that we had heard from any of them. We resolved to press on.
"Why can you not tell us?"
"I cannot remember."
A deathly silence took hold in the hut. The statement hovered in the air with a muted hostility, as if itself poised to strike. Dread and horror filled our hearts, though we did not know why.
A decision was made to perform a restoration ritual with a decoction that had long been used in our culture to commune with our inner selves and with nature. It was a sacred ritual, and one reserved only for the deepest of injuries, those terrible few that cut into the very soul.
We remember well the night we administered the cure. As Lunaris opened her wintry eye, a cup was given to each of the survivors, who passively sipped and then stared into the distance. We waited for the decoctions to take effect, as our elders began the ritual of healing song.
And yet, we saw no light re-emerge from their eyes. They remained as vacant and sightless as those of the long dead. Again and again we asked what terrible fate had befallen them, and again and again we received the same response:
"I cannot remember."

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"You simply cannot, Zerphi!" The maiden laughed.
"Can't I?" He fired back, imbibing another drink and smiling to himself. He knew himself to be quite capable of achieving the feat, but was having fun with this conversation all the same.
"You are far too old, Zerphi. Your face may be so beautiful that is has been spared the ravages of time, but that does not mean that you are strong enough. Accept your age, Zerphi! There is no shame in growing old, but you simply cannot make that jump."
"I don't suppose you'd care to place a friendly wager on that, love?" He intoned, before leaping the width of the river in a single bound. His astonished companion simply stared. It could not be. She had heard the stories. Zerphi was already the longest-lived noble in Atziri's court by far, and none could explain his age and great strength.
To hear the stories was one thing. She knew that bored nobles were prone to entertain themselves with fanciful, embellished tales. To see such a leap with her own eyes was another matter entirely.
Almost as quickly as he had landed, he was back. She could say nothing at first, but eventually weakly asked: "How did you do it?"
Zerphi's response was almost as swift as sure the leap itself. He produced his drinking flask, gesticulating toward it playfully: "They say a draught of fine spirits will ward off the elements and promote a longer, merrier life. I have found this to be true on all counts."
"So it would appear!" The maiden said, quite taken with this piece of homespun wisdom. "Perhaps I should begin drinking a bit more myself. One cannot live too long, yes?"
Zerphi only smiled back knowingly.

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The nobles filed into the mirrored court at dusk, where each of their robes were taken, one by one, until only a sea of naked figures remained. Once they were assembled, the young queen Atziri arrived with her personal entourage, arrayed in gorgeous splendor, her finery in stark contrast to the fleshy figures stood prone in endless reflection before her. There were indeed few secrets in the court, other than the enigmatic queen herself.
"Their ways may not be our ways, but that need not mean that we be enemies. We should help these noble tribesmen advance, as the one good turn will eventually deserve the other," Jaetai began.
"We have already distributed too many resources to these uncivilized savages," a noble in the court shot back. "You would have us share our precious Tears of Maji, our very lifeblood, with these animals!" A brief tumult among the nobles, until a glaring look from Atziri's piercing eye silenced them.
Jaetai continued, "You are correct, good sir, in saying that the Tears of Maji are our lifeblood, without which we ourselves could never have come so far. But I humbly offer that an empowered ally is better than a defenseless one. After all, to shake a hand is to double your power."
Doryani listened, silently observing the reactions of the court, and the queen most of all. He had long hated Jaetai, but he had to give him at least a grudging form of credit: He spun noncommittal foolishness as effortlessly as a potter spins clay on the wheel. His insipid insights did indeed sound like something vaguely meaningful, and for nearly seven long years now, his brand of bland platitudes had clearly gone over well with the majority of the court.
The young queen then spoke. "Jaetai. You are a wise counsel and a dear friend," clearly enamored of this insight. "It will be done. We will begin preparations to instruct the Azmerians in the correct use of the Tears of Maji, that we may enjoy together the mutual benefits of a dual-empire. Doryani. You are more knowledgeable about the power of the Tears than any man or woman in this kingdom. You will see to this matter."
The thaumaturgist nodded in assent, but said nothing.
"As for you, Jaetai," continued the queen, beckoning a servant forward, who then produced a large flask, "There is much I would continue to discuss with you. Please, join me in my chambers for a drink."
The court was then dispersed, as Doryani carefully re-robed and watched the queen and her advisor depart. "Lustful," he thought to himself, his gaze falling on the endless wall of mirrors distorting his reflection. "She is prideful and lustful."
Slowly, gradually, the gears in his mind began to turn, and then to grind.

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Jaetai awoke in Atziri's large bed. He very rarely remembered the events of his nights with the queen, but something about this time was different. He had dreamed. Of what, he could not say. A fractured piece of a greater narrative that he could not quite articulate. He rubbed his eyes, and, as his vision refocused, he saw her, sitting at her mirror, again gazing into her own reflection. After such a disconcerting dream, at least this was familiar.
"You have performed wonderfully yet again, Jaetai. You may go," said the young queen, not taking her eyes off of her reflection.
Yet Jaetai remained, as though he had not heard. This was unusual. Finally breaking her gaze with herself, she met his. "What troubles you, friend?" She asked, concerned.
Jaetai heard the unspoken implication almost immediately. The young queen rarely referred to anyone as "friend". To do so was an invitation to speak earnestly and openly. And yet he could not, for he was not sure of what he had seen, only the sense of emptiness that had touched him.
"My queen," he ventured, "words fail me."
This was more unusual still. Jaetai was nearly imperturbable. It was one of his most alluring qualities. She decided to try a different approach.
"Jaetai, what do you think of my kingdom?"
"It is the greatest achievement ever conceived of by the mind of man, and you are its crowning jewel, my queen."
"And the means by which we have achieved this greatness?"
Jaetai paused. He heard the unspoken question yet again, but he himself was unsure how he felt about this topic.
"Criminals transgress against our kingdom, my queen. They transgress against the very society that fed and cared for them. It is only fitting that they repay some of what they have taken."
"Let me tell you something, Jaetai." The queen's eye took on an intensity he had not seen before. "Since my childhood, since before my rule even began, I have been troubled by the trail of death that powers our empire."
He knew Atziri well. As well as any other, in any event. Well enough to hear the anguish in her voice. She was a prideful woman. It was a rare thing indeed for her to show a moment of vulnerability. In fact, to Jaetai's knowledge, it had never happened, at least not in his memory.
"We are indeed the greatest empire ever to exist," she continued. "But the Tears of Maji demand blood to activate. We, therefore, need transgressors. Is it possible that we make criminals of the innocent to rationalize our continued existence?"
Jaetai was taken aback. He had never realized that his queen was so deeply thoughtful. She was pondering the opaque nature of good and evil itself.
He thought for a moment how best to respond to the profundity of her quandary, how best to resolve it, and then replied: "My queen, the world is but a piece of parchment, blank and symmetric. We label each side: one Good, one Evil; one Black, one White. The divine truth, however, is that both are one and the same".
The queen was quiet for a moment, clearly taking a moment to chew on the idea. Her fiery gaze dimmed somewhat, then went momentarily tranquil.
"Thank you, Jaetai. You may go."

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Doryani sat in his laboratory, perched at his desk, absentmindedly tinkering with a mechanism, lost in his thoughts. He scarcely noticed the queen's guard filing in until one of them conjured enough courage to meekly utter an announcement of their entrance:
"Archtheurgist? I am sorry to disturb you, but we have a matter that may require your attention."
"Hm?" Doryani replied, still distracted.
"A body has been found near the riverbank. We ask that you examine it."
"I am not a coroner," the thaumaturgist nearly spat, never taking his eyes off his invention. The poisonous disdain in his voice unnerved all in its hearing.
"We know this, Archtheurgist. But there are wounds on this body that are... unusual. Our coroner cannot explain them."
"Then perhaps your butcher should go the block himself," offered Doryani in a voice as caustic as snake venom. All were silent at this. "Bring the body in," he said, finally putting down his tools, "Or shall I do that for you, too?"
The guards immediately complied. A body, draped in a white sheet, was swiftly brought in and placed on his table. Doryani removed the sheet, took appraisal of the body for a moment, and finally met the waiting guards' uncertain gaze.
"...You're still here."
The guards, sufficiently cowed, immediately departed.
"Woman. Roughly twenty years of age," he spoke softly to himself as he began his work. "Deep mutilation of all limbs..." he continued, now intrigued, "all mutilations administered surgically at all vital points. Fascinating."
His attention now drawn to her hand, he continued.
"Musician."
Suspicious, he began to cut open her palm. Gingerly removing its contents, Doryani looked between the tendons in what had once been her hand, and was, for one of the first times in his life, caught completely off-guard.
"Gemling." He said to himself, astonished.

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Doryani left his laboratory for the archives almost immediately. An intriguing window had just opened, he knew, for it was nearly impossible to kill a gemling. In fact, only eleven unsanctioned murders of gemlings had occurred in all of the history of the empire, and all within the past two centuries. Doryani intuited the connection, and knew he only needed one further bit of evidence to put the pieces together, but he did not know what it was.
"I want all records of all gemling murders brought to my laboratory immediately. All bodies also."
And so it was that eleven desiccated corpses were exhumed at Doryani's order and lined up alongside the putrefying twelfth in his laboratory, along with all pertinent information on the victims. Doryani went to work.
Hours he pored over the documents. Hours he stared into the corpses, letting the parallels between them gradually sink into his mind. Six males. Six females. All twenty years of age. All mutilated using the same highly-advanced surgical techniques. It was just as he had suspected. The work of one single individual. An ingenious mind that had been at large for over a century.
"Zerphi!" He triumphantly concluded.
Yet there was still a nameless something that eluded him. Something large. Cosmic, even, and these dead gemlings were at the heart of it. He worked feverishly to remove each gem, but each was the same. Dead. Inert. As if the very essence had been sucked from them.
Exhausting every possibility in his mind, he determined that he would resolve this quandary by any means necessary, and then, in his deep fatigue, collapsed.

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He awoke in a hall of mirrors, each twisting into the next, the reflected visions forming an endless web of light within the encroaching darkness. In each mirror, the face of himself, the face of his queen, the relentless tread of an inevitable and irrevocable approaching destiny.
And there was something else. Something was watching him. Something ancient and unseen, but certainly felt. He could feel it deeply within and without him, coiling soundlessly around his heart, even as its words erupted into his mind, engulfing it in a timeless sea of indifferent madness:
"I would rarely think to waste the time of perfect engineers like you,
But a problem has emerged that is particularly unique.
It crushes down the strong just as it elevates the weak,
From the mountains of the West, down to the islands of the East.
What is this I hear now of a stultifying Beast?"
Doryani awoke in a cold sweat, again in his laboratory, his twelve corpses now arranged in a circle in pairs of two, and at its center, a device. He could not apprehend its purpose. Had he built this in his sleep?
For the time being, it did not matter. He had what he needed. "Zerphi..." he chuckled to himself. The old parasite would prove useful after all.

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It was a misty morning when the naked court was again convened, this time at the great temple of Atzoatl. All nobles were called to attendance at Atziri's throne as all around them, the sounds of construction raged on.
Atziri was the first to speak. "My beloved nobles. It is with great sadness that I inform you that one of our number has been murdered most heinously. An attack at one of us is an attack at us all. I have therefore called you together so that my theurgist may share some of what he has learned about the atrocious nature of these crimes. Doryani. Please step forward and tell us what you know."
Zerphi shifted uncomfortably as Doryani gave him a momentary smile and a nod before taking his place next to the queen.
"My queen. Thank you for the opportunity to elucidate the nature of these vicious attacks at our nobility. There have been twelve victims so far, each killed within a roughly ten-year cycle. One male, then one female. And, as many of you know, all twelve of these victims have been gemlings."
A minor gasp from the court in attendance. To refer to one blessed by Maji as a "gemling" was simply not done, and yet the court, transfixed, continued to listen in rapt attention.
"This string of murders has continued on in an uninterrupted cycle for one hundred and twenty-eight years now." Doryani looked deeply here into Zerphi's eyes and issued a quick, nearly imperceptible wink.
"Are you implying, Doryani, that these ghastly acts were the work of one single individual?" Atziri asked pointedly. Zerphi could almost feel the gaze of the assembly shifting now towards him.
"Not at all, my queen. Even for the great Magi, time passes without relent." Doryani continued: "The first six murders were impeccably performed. Surgical strikes at vital points. Clearly the work of a highly educated mind, versed in anatomy." Here, he again turned to face the now visibly terrified Zerphi, giving him a vicious little smile, before concluding: "The four that followed were of decidedly.... lesser quality, and these final two... killed by scratches. Not unlike those made by an animal."
The naked Zerphi impotently seethed at this clear insult, but his paralyzing fear prevented him from action. He could only watch helplessly as Doryani continued to slaver over his prey.
"It is likely that these latest killings were the result of a mind obsessed with duality, balance, and unification," pausing at this word long enough for the implication to settle in, "possibly an individual who hides behind uninspired, relativistic platitudes to justify his aberrant crimes, though I stop just short of saying who I think that person may be," smiling slyly at Jaetai at this, "I have simply gone where the evidence has taken me."
The queen's advisor took this in. A piece was being moved, and with it, a shift in the balance of power. The eyes of the room darted towards him. The queen, after a few moments of thought, finally spoke: "Doryani. You have spoken wisely and well. I would see you in my chambers to discuss this matter further."
The court was dismissed. Zerphi heaved a sigh of relief and hurried out of the temple, and Jaetai watched incredulously as Doryani graciously took the queen's hand and accompanied her to her chambers.

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The theurgist again found himself within the dreamlike darkness engulfing the endless web of light wending into infinity. Hopelessly, impossibly lost, he wandered alone, until he again heard the voice, soundlessly speaking its maddening riddle into his mind:
"My reach knows no bounds.
All that is pure is destined to rot.
All that lives is destined to serve.
Who am I?"
All at once, the bewildered theurgist was swept into a cacophony of sound and vision. A crumbling of the Vaal. A new empire, built on the bones of the old, with a new thaumaturgist, possessing a mind much like his own. An inevitable, inexorable crumbling of that empire as well. A third empire. A third king. A third thaumaturgist. All swept aside a third time. And then a man. A dead man, more akin to a god, but empty. Lifeless. Animated only by malevolent insanity. And then, finally, utter and total annihilation.
At last, the truth. The long arc of history, backwards and forwards, revealed as what it actually was: a meaningless rhyme, a song called to the ignorant, illusory tune of progress, with the silent, unhurried beat of nonexistence thrumming at the center of it all.

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The following morning, Doryani awoke, clear-eyed and full of inspiration. The young queen sat at her mirror, gazing into her reflection, into the alluring black abyss in the center of her eyes. "My queen," he began, seizing her attention. "Do you know where the boundaries of your empire end?"
"No, I do not," realized the queen, turning to meet his gaze.
Doryani, quick as a flash, was at her side. "They end nowhere." He gently put his hand at her cheek and guided her back into her own reflection. "Do not look at me, my queen. Look instead at yourself. See how magnificent, how singularly remarkable you are."
Flattered, the queen almost giggled, but kept her composure. "Doryani, what do you mean when you say my empire's boundaries end nowhere?"
"There is not a civilization on Wraeclast that is even a match for yours, my queen. Why should you trouble yourself with the betterment of the Azmeri? Think instead on the betterment of yourself and your people."
"No, Doryani," she replied, perhaps now trying to convince herself, "Jaetai spoke rightly in saying that cooperation is necessary for our civilizations to mutually progress."
"Jaetai spoke with a forked tongue, my queen. What sort of man would deny the existence of both good and evil?"
At this, Atziri whipped her head again in Doryani's direction, for this had been a private conversation.
"Are you angered, my queen, that he would so readily share words spoken in confidence with you? That he would prey on you in your own moment of weakness, and in your own bedchamber no less? It seems a bit of a violation, doesn't it?"
Atziri was silent. Jaetai was a trusted advisor, and he was her friend. He would not have betrayed her confidence. She was nearly sure of this.
"It would not do to have a queen conflicted in her duty to her people," continued the thaumaturgist. "I know the sacrifices trouble you. But you must take a more expansive view, for the sake of your people," Doryani said, as he gently guided Atziri's face back into her own reflection, "And of course, yourself. You must understand, my queen, that the finest prosperity grows from the direst carnage. Such is the nature of progress. It is unavoidable. It is necessary."
The words stung at her heart like a snakebite, but a burning, venomous realization gradually coursed through her soul: Doryani's hypnotic words were true. The sacrifices would have to continue, at least until an alternative could be found.
"Thank you, Doryani. You may go."

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"We must hurry," Zerphi said to his servant as he rushed to gather his belongings. "We do not have much time."
"My lord, what is the trouble?" The servant incredulously asked. In all his years of service to the noble, he had never once seen his master frightened of anything.
"What is the trouble indeed, my dear friend?" Asked Doryani lightheartedly as he stepped into Zerphi's abode.
"Archtheurgist Doryani! What a pleasant and most unexpected surprise!" Zerphi affably offered, quickly reaching for his blade. He made a quick movement to strike, but before he had even realized what had happened, Doryani had already produced his wand and effortlessly disarmed the noble.
Zerphi then heard only a fleshy thunk as his servant fell to the ground before him, dead. Doryani, without breaking his own conversational tone, continued:
"My dear, dear Zerphi. One hundred and sixty-eight years. You simply must tell me how you managed it!"
"They say a draught of fine spirits will ward off the elements and promote a longer, merrier life," Zerphi nervously began... "I have found this to be true --"
But an immediate and excruciating shock stopped him from finishing his statement.
"Virtue gems. You have managed to extract the essence of a virtue gem to extend your life far beyond its natural limit." The noble could only writhe in pain as Doryani continued:
"You've made progress, Zerphi... albeit somewhat chaotic in its execution. Now you will tell me how you've accomplished it."
Defeated, the helpless Zerphi could only weakly utter his answer: "We are incapable of change without sacrifice, for we are both the iron and the forge." Through ragged breaths, he related his theory to Doryani: the Tears of Maji are connected to the Great and Unknowable Beast, which is connected to all of the people, and indeed, to Wraeclast itself.
"So you've been subsisting on the phantasms within the gems themselves. Quite interesting." Zerphi could only weakly nod and gently attempt a correction, "The T-tears of M-Maji.."
"Yes, those. You know, Zerphi, you can invite them in, but you can never be sure who will come calling, so I ask again: how did a petty little being of such low cunning as yourself accomplish this feat?" Doryani wondered.
"D-do you believe in.. the g-gods?" Zerphi asked.
Doryani considered this for a moment, quickly making the connection in his mind. "'A stultifying Beast'." He mouthed quietly to himself. "Thank, you, my friend. You have indeed been enormously helpful. I do hope the gods you so love embrace you." And with this, a final, painful electrocution, and Zerphi succumbed, sinking into the inky darkness at last.

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Six individuals had gone missing at Doryani's Institute. A search of the installation, led by Atziri's guard, eventually led them to the outside of the theurgist's laboratory.
"What is that putrescent stench?" One wondered quietly to the others. Finally, one had the confidence to call into the laboratory: "Archtheurgist? Are you well?" No reply.
The decision was reluctantly made to open the door to see to the theurgist's well-being. The ghastly stench might have been warning enough, yet nonetheless the macabre scene that awaited them inside was one none were prepared for.
Twelve bodies, ritualistically splayed in a circle, and inside of that, three more bodies, arranged in triangular fashion. At the center of it all, a horrific device, impossible in its construction, exuding demonic malevolence, drenched in both fresh and dried blood.
Only one guard could bring himself to enter. The rest had frozen to the spot in primal, abject terror. What had Doryani done here? The guard cautiously scanned his surroundings, stepping over the corpses to study the device more closely.
Without warning, one of the bodies had shot out its arm and grabbed the guard's ankle. The horrified guard looked down to see a half-dead woman, grasping at his leg furiously.
"Survivor!" The guard yelled to his comrades. "One of them is alive!"
The guards quickly filed in. Two more bodies twitched weakly. "Three of them are alive!" The guard moved to pull the prone woman out of the circle of viscera, when she finally met his gaze with her remaining, bloodshot eye. She opened her mouth, and, conjuring all her strength, in an anguished sob, finally managed to choke out the words.
"It ate them! It ate the children!"

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It was high noon when the court convened for a third time. The queen, defying custom, had arrived before her nobility, and without her retinue. A pall had fallen over her in recent days, and she could not explain her darkening thoughts to herself, nor could she anymore relate them to her friend. Indeed, she found herself distrusting Jaetai, though she desperately did not want to.
Doryani was brought in, bound by a heavy manacle, as the nobles shuffled in and disrobed in preparation for the queen's deliberation.
Once Doryani was shackled to the table, Atziri silently motioned, as an axe nearly as large as a man was dragged in by two struggling guards, grinding the stone beneath into sparks with its mammoth blade. Some nobles in the court snickered at the preposterously ostentatious spectacle.
Reading the room, Atziri quickly quipped: "I do not believe in disguising my disappointment." The statement prompted more laughter from the nervous nobility. Even Doryani struggled not to smile at his angered queen's quick-witted cleverness.
"Archtheurgist," the queen began. "Six people disappeared within your laboratory within the span of a single day. Three of them are now dead. Children all. The survivors speak on a device, clearly of your creation, that lured them into some kind of nightmarish hellscape. My guards have confirmed that such a device does indeed exist, surrounded by bodies arranged in an insulting and sickening geometric display. What have you to say?"
"My beloved queen," intoned the Archtheurgist, "Creation is the act of making the intangible tangible. To work backwards, to make the tangible intangible, is to step into the mind of God."
"You presume too much, Doryani. You are no god, and this monstrous creation of yours has endangered my entire kingdom. You are for the block."
Doryani met her eye unflinchingly. She looked into his eyes and saw no fear, but instead... was it anger? Contempt? She could not quite place it, but his defiant impertinence was simultaneously infuriating and alluring. "My dearly beloved queen," the theurgist continued, unfazed, "the most dizzying heights are surrounded by precipitous falls. Progress cannot be eternal."
The prophetic utterance echoed around the chamber, settling into the minds of all assembled. The queen was silent, listening intently. After a moment, Doryani continued:
"Every day we choose safety or knowledge. Live and stagnate, or risk death for truth. I would rather see the end of the Vaal than help it tread water. It was for this purpose that I created the device."
Doryani, of course, did not know why he had created the device, but the words came so effortlessly, as though it was not him saying them, that for a moment, he mused, he felt like Jaetai.
"I do not deal in meaningless platitudes like your esteemed advisor," motioning towards the bewildered queen's advisor. "I create futures."
"My queen," began Jaetai, but was silenced with a motion from Atziri.
"The creation of this device is the price we must pay to ensure a Vaalish future. A truly boundless and eternal space. A space fitting of the greatest civilization ever to have existed."
"And what of my future?" Asked the queen.
"Outstanding," thought the theurgist to himself. "She has finally collapsed into her self-absorption completely." Seeing his opening, Doryani finally planted the seed that would grow into a tree that could drink only from a poisoned well:
"Your future, my queen, is to see your likeness reflected in the still waters of history. Is that not your wish?"
Thinking of her reflection, she could not help but respond "I do."
"My device has enabled this. But it has been polluted by a would-be philosopher, seeking to impose his relativistic denial of good and evil on our very civilization."
Jaetai's jaw gaped. How had he known of this conversation? What was the meaning of this rambling, contradictory nonsense? Why was the entire room so seemingly spellbound by it? He wanted to protest, to break the unnatural hold Doryani's words held somehow, but his queen had ordered him to be silent, and so Jaetai held his tongue.
"A soul-sucking tick who killed our own nobility to prove a flimsy point about the nature of duality. Is it not fitting that he should pay for some of what he has taken from us?"
Doryani's words gradually faded into silence, even as the queen seemed to fade into catatonia. She ordered the theurgist unshackled, and, painfully choking back years of memories, ordered her friend to the block.

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"Girl. What is your name?"
"A'alai..." the girl managed to utter between shallow breaths.
"And this... place you went. Tell me of it."
The woman struggled for the words. "It was like riding a serpent of light atop a sea of nothingness."
"It sounds a very beautiful place," offered Doryani.
"My child was eaten in front of my eyes."
"So she was. Now tell me one final thing: Who are you?"
At this question, the woman convulsed violently. Her remaining eye rolled back into her head. Her mouth contorted into a yawning void and spoke:
"My reach knows no bounds.
All that is pure is destined to rot.
All that lives is destined to serve.
Who am I?
Who are you, theurgist?"
"I am Wraeclast and its will, the baby and the cradle," answered Doryani, as if compelled beyond his will.
Pleased, the possessed woman's mouth twisted even further, the corners of her lips curling into a monstrously warped and demonic smile.
"Then show me."

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The sacrifices had intensified for months now. Laws had been re-written to accommodate sacrifice in retaliation for smaller offenses. Men and women previously found innocent were recaptured, re-interrogated, and repeatedly retried, until a guilty verdict was finally reached.
The heaps of coagulating bodies stacked around the corners of the city had began to eclipse the buildings themselves like towers of twisted bone and bloated flesh. The stench of rotting meat permeated the air like a coiling miasma.
The queen had not held court since the death of Jaetai. Indeed, Atziri was largely unseen by all. Only Doryani was permitted to be near her, and his days were now mainly spent furiously processing the increasing number of sacrifices, implanting gems into the living, and excising them from the dead.
A thick energy of malicious intelligence had seemed to coat the city itself. Citizens turned on each other and were subsequently sent to the block to die side-by-side. Babies were delivered stillborn and sent to Doryani's laboratory, as wagonfuls of charged gems were carted out of the city and into the mountains above, where the Great and Unknowable Beast lay.
And slowly, patiently, the harvest moon approached.

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It was nearly midnight when A'alai was walked, alongside her two companions, into the center of the Apex of Sacrifice. After months of procedures, her body burned with the crackling energy of her augmentations. Maji. What nonsense. She felt more gem than woman. She looked with pity at her two friends, equally festooned with gems radiating dim lights from beneath their skin, trundling up the steps to their eventual fate.
There, along with Doryani, waited Atziri, queen of the Vaal.
"Sacrifice." The queen began thoughtfully. "It is the most noble, beautiful act that a mortal may perform." She looked down at her three prisoners and continued, "It is an act of divinity. To sacrifice is to give yourself to something greater."
The queen averted her eyes for a moment and said, more quietly, "To sacrifice is to transform the world."
Her lip quivered for a moment. Regaining her composure, she gazed upon them again. "I see it in your eyes. Your blood. You do not feel my words."
Her thoughts drifted once again to her reflection. "You are selfish. Afraid."
The three prisoners looked up at her, then to each other. Did she know what suffering her vile thaumaturgist had inflicted on them? Not a one among them was afraid.
"Do not let fear stand between you and your destiny. Give me your heart..."
Doryani beckoned his attendants over. The time had nearly come.
"And I will give you beauty beyond your darkest dreams," she concluded, in a warm and welcoming voice that seemed not entirely her own.

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The stroke of midnight had nearly arrived, and the gems had all been arranged in a spiral along the flank of the Great and Unknowable Beast, each linked to the last, and all ready to be detonated in simultaneous parallel tandem at the moment of sacrifice. Doryani held the mechanism, his eyes sharply focused on the moon above. It was nearly into position.
"Ready your athames," he muttered, and three blades were drawn. The three broken gemlings were put to their knees, their bodies put to the block. A'alai looked into the eyes of her companions and tearfully mouthed "Goodbye".

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The Great and Unknowable One awoke suddenly. Something had bitten into its flank, and before it even realized what it had done, the Beast had released a blast of withering, chaotic energy that cascaded down the mountains and came crashing into the cities below.
It thought for a moment on what curious manner of creature would want to bite it. "An especially hungry insect, perhaps? Maybe a big rat? No, that couldn't be quite right. It was maybe many small rats. Or a smaller number of medium-sized ones." This train of thought, however, soon proved to be too nonproductive for the Great and Unknowable One to hold for too long, and soon, the irritated Beast had fallen back into a deep and dreamless sleep.

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Screams erupted from all around the city as a powerful thaumaturgical storm laid waste to cattle, leveled buildings, and incinerated any citizenry caught in its radiating wake. Deep in the apex, Atziri and Doryani stood above the corpses of the three sacrifices and the gaping abyss rushing to greet them.
"My queen, it is done. I have held to my word. Your eternal realm awaits you beyond."
"It awaits us, Doryani."
"No, my lovely queen. Where I go, you cannot follow. Here our ways divide."
"You have seen beyond?"
The theurgist nodded in affirmation as the screams died down, and were silenced.
The walls of the apex began to crumble, and Atziri, fumbling for validation that she had done the right thing, asked, "Doryani. What awaits us beyond?"
As life after life, soul after soul, memory after memory, all plummeted into the abyss, Doryani offered his final goodbye:
"My lovely, radiant queen. Beyond, there is only horror."

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"No, fair! You have a stick!" The little girl squealed as the boy chased her all around the courtyard. "It's a sword, not a stick! I'm a pirate! Arrr!"
"A pirate can't chase a princess!" She laughed, quickly ducking down to form a ball of mud in her hands. Throwing it at the little boy, she heard a splat, and then:
"Ow! Hey, no fair. You can't throw stuff at me!"
"Oh? Why's that?"
"You simply cannot!" The boy said indignantly.
"Can't I?" The girl smiled to herself. "You said you were a pirate! At least you look like one now!"
"Oh, that's it, I'll get you!" The boy shouted as he dropped his stick and pounced.
Caught off guard, the girl tumbled to the ground and rolled in front of a puddle of muddy water, where something caught her eye.
"See? That's you," the boy said. She had never seen herself before.
"I look like that? How do I see myself in water?" She waved her hand. "And why is my other hand moving?"
"Well, see, it's like a reflection. It's you, but it's all backwards and in reverse."
"Why would we want to see ourselves in reverse?" The girl asked, still captivated.
"Because you're beautiful either way?" The boy offered.
"Thank you!" The girl beamed brightly, looking at him.
"Young lady! What do you think you're doing?" It was the queen's voice.
"I was just playing, mother."
"Oh I rather think that I see that already. Just look at those filthy hands! And why are you always playing with this dirty little rapscallion anyways?"
The queen motioned imperiously toward the little boy covered in mud. Jaetai looked ashamed, but the little princess placed herself between them and uttered her first words as the queen she would one day become.
"Because he's my best friend," she said.

Considering the Vaal is my favorite and prefered theme for PoE, I can say this was quite an enjoyable read. I like what you've done with Doryani and I must say the end caught me by surprise. Interesting to think that her obsession about her reflection was sparked accidentally with a puddle of muddy water.

Would like to read a piece from you about Venarius, perhaps even about the memories.... suppose if that's ever going to be the flavor of a league again... hopefully.

Nice interpretation of the Vaal lore , especially the Communion.
Timewise it should be around book 4 & 5.
https://pathofexile.fandom.com/wiki/The_Ancients

"

kole wrote:

Considering the Vaal is my favorite and prefered theme for PoE, I can say this was quite an enjoyable read. I like what you've done with Doryani and I must say the end caught me by surprise. Interesting to think that her obsession about her reflection was sparked accidentally with a puddle of muddy water.

Would like to read a piece from you about Venarius, perhaps even about the memories.... suppose if that's ever going to be the flavor of a league again... hopefully.

I like them as well. They're reminiscent of the Elder Scrolls Dwemer.

Both where the superior civilisation at their time but vanished in an instant for various reasons.

Btw. I know there is still one Dwemer alive (Yagrum Bagarn) in TES 3 but it really does not count as he's more machine than man.

"

gandhar0 wrote:

"

kole wrote:

Considering the Vaal is my favorite and prefered theme for PoE, I can say this was quite an enjoyable read. I like what you've done with Doryani and I must say the end caught me by surprise. Interesting to think that her obsession about her reflection was sparked accidentally with a puddle of muddy water.

Would like to read a piece from you about Venarius, perhaps even about the memories.... suppose if that's ever going to be the flavor of a league again... hopefully.

I like them as well. They're reminiscent of the Elder Scrolls Dwemer.

Both where the superior civilisation at their time but vanished in an instant for various reasons.

Btw. I know there is still one Dwemer alive (Yagrum Bagarn) in TES 3 but it really does not count as he's more machine than man.

Yeah they have a nice feeling to them. Will be honest though, I'm not really familiar with the Elder Scrolls universe.