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writtenwyrm · 1 year ago

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The Ascension

A Slay The Spire story, Part 37

All Parts

Acceptance

I was tired.

The last steps of my journey were up a set of stairs, spiraling upward for as far as I could see.

[QUERY] JOURNEY

[ERROR] JOURNEY NOT FOUND

[DEFINE] JOURNEY

[JOURNEY] THE PART BEFORE THE DESTINATION

What are you talking about?

[QUERY] ENDLESS IF BELIEVED SO

I looked up, where the stairs faded out of sight, miles above me. So, you’re telling me the stairs are only as long as I think they are?

[QUERY] BELIEVE YOU ARE AT THE END AND IT WILL BE SO

I kept walking.

Because the truth was, I didn’t want to reach the top of the Spire.

I was afraid. Not the thrumming terror of an enemy in front of me, attempting to kill me, but the slow, creeping horror of being helpless in the face of something terrible.

I felt caught. Ahead, I could sense It. The Heart, waiting for me, pulling me in, eager to destroy me or be destroyed in turn. And that was frightening, but the true terror came from knowing that it didn’t matter which. In the end, I would die and forget, or the Heart would return.

It didn’t matter, and yet I was going anyway.

My body hardly felt like my own. Onward, step by step, beat by beat, towards a fate I couldn’t stop. Towards a fight I couldn’t win.

Because maybe something would be different this time. Maybe I could change things. Maybe I could put a stop to the cycle of pain, once and for all.

Just as every me before had hoped. Just as every Venture had done for as long as could be remembered. And never once had we succeeded.

I had to try, didn’t I?

[QUERY] YES

Yes.

I had to try.

Suddenly, I was at the top of the stairs, facing a door.

I stepped into the heart of the Spire.

And there it was.

It filled the room, hanging from the walls on thick arteries. Each pulse of its flesh moved the air in waves, and I felt myself get drawn forward with the tide of the air like a cork on the water. Then I was staggered backward again, nearly tossed off my feet as the shockwave rolled over me, the sound of the heartbeat like a cannon in my ears.

It came again, and again, and I was forced to sway and move with the currents or be thrown off my feet.

And with every pounding beat, my chest ached. Breathless, delirious, I could feel my own heart pounding in sync with the behemoth before me, pained. For a moment, I felt like a thin shell of skin, wrapped around a creature struggling to escape and join with the larger beast calling outside.

[QUERY] POTION

I forced my hand to move, yanking the cork out of the blocking potion.

The familiar double-layered sphere sprung up around me, muffling the oppressive sound of the Heartbeat as it did, and I released a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. Cracks began to appear in the outer shell almost as soon as it was formed, but now I had time. I stretched my perception into my bag, feeling for what I had. The amulet’s calming presence soothed me, and the Akabeko, its strength meager against the battle ahead, lent me what it could.

There was no point in saving anything else. I took the potion I’d retrieved from the Spear and downed it as well, already dosed with a piece of the Sacred Bark. It coursed down my throat, stinging as it went, and I coughed hoarsely. Warmth sank into my bones, growing stronger, making me stronger, slowly, but surely.

I took a breath to begin my battle hymn.

[QUERY] HEATSINKS

I felt the Defect reaching through me, offering me the memory of its ability from the dream, and I hesitated. I didn’t have pipes, or cooling systems, or anything resembling the parts needed for it.

But then again, why did that matter?

I accepted it.

[ACTION] HEATSINKS

Time slowed. I felt… cold. Or rather, my head did. My hands and feet were hot, stealing my warmth and letting it haze out into the air. I tried to turn my head, but my body felt sluggish, reacting slowly.

My thoughts had quickened. I didn’t spend too much of my valuable time thinking about that. Instead, I began my battle hymn, mentally singing to the familiar tune.

In my bag, the mummified hand took hold of the excess power and passed it along, and all of a sudden things got a lot faster.

Sight. The Heart, sensed through my shields. The pebbles rattling on the floor. My staff, clenched tightly in both hands. Things I sensed more than saw, but close enough.

Lightning crackled through me, perfecting my movements, apotheosizing me.

Sound. The ever-present beat of the Heart, muffled though it was. The sound of my own breathing, steady and even. The whispers of my hair brushing by my ears.

The first layer of shield shattered under the assault of the Heart. Adrenaline poured through my blood, lighting me on fire.

Touch. The smooth metal of my staff in hand. The coarse scrape of stone beneath my feet. The familiar fabric of my robe against my skin, battered and burned.

I held up my arm toward the Heart, palm out, mentally asserting that it would only speak with my hand, a violent communication.

Scent. Sweat and warmth from my own, living body. Real, present. The cold air, sharp in my nose and smelling of dust.

Mentally, I fortified myself, ready to switch between stances at a moment's notice and protect myself from harm.

Taste. Copper, blood on my tongue, and the taste of victory almost within reach. And with that, my mastery of my own reality was complete.

The second shield broke, and I attacked.

Wrath flung me forward, powering through the crashing heartbeat that tried to crush me. My heart thundered in my chest, fast and free, and the Heart matched it’s pace, slamming me over and over with shockwaves. Or perhaps my heart was following it, beating faster at its behest.

I impacted with the fleshy surface, and carved my way in. The sharp bronze strapped to my shoulders caught on flesh and tore, even my movement through the Heart causing damage.

The Heart shuddered, and then clenched. Muscles thicker than my entire body tried to crush me between them, and it crashed through my defenses like they weren’t even there.

The shell in my bag, taken from the Shield, flared with power. The walls of flesh slammed into my skin and stopped.

I was thrown free, sent tumbling back across the room as the Heart ejected me. I rolled to my feet, unharmed, protected, and howled my hatred for the Heart.

It responded by tearing dozens of thin veins from the ceiling, blood spraying from the ripped ends, and whipping them at me. Blood, steaming with heat, spattered in my direction like acid rain. I was quick to respond, tearing my Shackles from around my waist and throwing it forward. The dark chains whipped like a living beast, weaving between the veins and tying itself in knots, suffocating the flow before it could reach me. The floor was covered in the sizzling, dark red liquid, but I remained unharmed.

Standing there, thoughts racing, both I and the Heart seemed to pause.

Then the ever-familiar indignation flared up inside me, and I laughed, fury and hatred erupting from my mouth in a sound closer to relief than to joy.

I could have died, right there and then. If I’d been the same person I was at the foot of the Spire, I would have. And yet I was still standing, untouched and full of spite. My fear of the unknown was gone, replaced by the stubborn need to see this through.

I would die or I wouldn’t, but for now I could handle this. It was a fight, the same as any other.

I leapt forward, kicking off the flesh of the Heart to climb atop it, keeping my balance on the rocking flesh with claw and staff and careful step. From there, I reached out for the memories of the others–memories from their impressions on the walls, or from their dormant selves inside me?--and grabbed the first attack that came to mind. The familiar wild strength of the Ironclad filled my arms, and crushed an empty bottle in my hand, letting the glass pierce my palm. Sacrifice.

Then I slapped my bloody hand on the Heart, and the strings of crimson ripped from my hand to slice deep like swords.

This time, when more thin veins ripped themselves free to attack in rebuttal, I was too close to dodge.

The writhing capillaries threw me from the top of the Heart, sending me rolling to the floor and covering my head to try and keep the burning rain of blood out of my eyes. It hurt, even more than I expected it to, but eventually it stopped.

It smelled coppery and warm, like I’d just walked into a slaughterhouse. But the smell triggered a memory in my mind. Not my own Memory, but one I’d borrowed from the notes the Silent took.

It smelled like an ingredient.

Hurriedly, hands moving with precision from practice that I’d never had, I slipped an empty bottle from my belt and scooped the thick liquid into it. The Sacred Bark was next, crumbling an entire handful into the bottle.

Contamination is high. My mind considered, looking at the blood covering me. I couldn’t tell which of it was my own blood, and which was from the Heart. Effectiveness might be decreased, or altered. It needs to be shaken, to trigger the activating molecules and start the reaction, and then drunk immediately.

More things taken from my satchel, things I’d never considered important before. The dried bones left over from the desiccated lizard tail, water and even a piece scraped from the Gremlin horn I’d taken off of Nob.

All of it together, and then I shook it. The liquid alchemized, shifting from a dark red to a light violet, notes of blue and pink shimmering throughout. It glowed.

I drank.

My senses flared as the ambrosia flowed through me.

Divinity.

For a long, valuable second, I stood there in shock. The familiar thrum of the Divine song roared in my bones, and I could hardly believe it. A potion? Was that all?

And it was… different, somehow.

I didn’t waste any more time thinking about it. I threw myself up at the underside of the Heart, eyes automatically picking out the softest pieces of flesh to tear. My motions were perfect, efficient, and I used the beat of the Heart to gain even more leverage as I ripped it apart.

I poured attacks into it, my battle hymn reaching its crescendo.

And then my staff struck the wall of flesh once more and stopped, as if I’d struck stone.

I attacked again, and again, but no matter where I hit, my staff slid off harmlessly. My ability to find points of weakness was trumped, as a wave of divine power washed back over me.

The Heart had stopped me, god to god. Perhaps only for a second, but just long enough to throw me off my stride.

The Heart clenched, and the sound crashed into me like a hammerblow. I leaned forward, noting the ability my Divine Stance gave me to see how best to let the shockwave crash harmlessly over me. Balanced, tempered, so unlike the offensive, no holds-barred Divinity I was used to.

It wasn’t enough for the return, as the echo rebounded off the distant wall and slammed into my back. I tumbled again, only the perfection of Divinity allowing me to remain standing even as I heard things crack in my ribs.

Then the potions power was expended, and it left me alone and cold and tired, swaying on my feet.

[QUERY] NOT ALONE

No, not alone. But weak nonetheless, and thoughts left over from the strange Divine Stance coursing through my weary mind.

What was my purpose? Why was I here?

I stood before the Heart, looking up, breathing hard. I had that long-forgotten reason for being here. I was not one of my masters, the Divinities–my brief tastes of it had shown me that–and I was not originally meant to be the executioner, though I’d played that role many many times by now. I was still, even after all this time, a mere apprentice.

And the job of the apprentice was to listen, and to Watch. To see reality for what it really was, and accept it as such.

I closed off my senses and reached out.

Hate.

The familiar, gut-wrenching, overwhelming feeling filled me to the brim, threatening to burst out at the seams. Disgust, anger, pain, making my fingers burn and my skin itch.

Who’s hatred was it?

Mine? Was I so filled with loathing for this thing that even touching it with my senses made my blood boil?

Neow’s? Was this an artificial feeling implanted in me by the Ancient responsible for my resurrection, to make sure I came all this way and finished the job?

Or was my Perception doing exactly as it was supposed to, and sensing the Heart’s animosity for me?

It did feel like it was directed at me. The weight of it bore down on me, but I took a breath and let it pass, focused on my goal, looking for the source. My heart beat in time with the Heart above. Humming to the slow tones of Calm soothed my racing blood, and It followed, the waves of pressure coming less frequently.

And yet as much as I searched, I couldn’t tell which of us the hatred came from.

Like the blood, spattered over my clothes, all of it red. Only some of it mine. The blood I’d used to make the ambrosia.

And finally, I figured it out.

The Word jumped to my lips, ready to be used, and now I knew it was more than it seemed.

They–the Words we Ventures used–were not simply Words of Power. No single word could contain such an influence over reality, or be twisted and warped to serve the whims of those who spoke it.

It was the power that flowed within me, mutable, flexible by its very nature.

It was the power that the Chosen had so desired, had attempted to steal from me.

It was the power of the gods.

It was my power.

Help me, Defect. I whispered in my mind. I need you for this.

[QUERY] YES

We all twisted our Words to our needs. But this…

[QUERY] NOW

[QUERY] TOGETHER

With Hearts pounding, I spoke my Word.

CLEAVE

[ERROR] CLEAVE NOT FOUND