#entering that feeling of imminent dread and doom

[gay-enchilada]

i am so sleep deprived

[atmosphericskull]

Zombie Dreams

Just around the corner, I stopped, ostensibly to catch my breath. But as I huffed and puffed, I had a terrible moment to consider the truth of the matter. They were all dead. There was nothing to fight for. And there was nowhere to run.

Fear and panic were quickly overtaken by dread. But even to dread it seemed futile. I was powerless. The imminent inevitability of my demise had a calming effect. Or so it seemed. I began to wonder if I wasn’t deceiving myself. Surely it was the height of conceit to presume myself free from pointless fear. I poked and prodded my mind, just to be sure. But I felt cold and empty.

A crash from back down the corridor interrupted my confused introspection. I sighed and attempted to gather my resolve. I turned back to face my doom. The action seemed hollow. I didn’t know why I was doing it. I didn’t know what to feel. I was spotted. I advanced slowly. They shambled desperately forward. They shuddered and groaned and flailed, energetic and feral, but their eyes were cold and dark, void of intelligence. I saw a few familiar faces.

In a moment, I supposed, the curtain would drop, and I would feel again. Mortal terror would overtake me. I closed my eyes. Someone screamed in the distance.

*           *           *

It took me a moment, as I drifted unsteadily into awareness, to realize that it had been repeating over and over. Eyes shut. Terror. I scream. Pain, and with it, silence. I can’t breathe.

I couldn’t breathe. My eyes flew open. Nothing. I closed them and opened them again. Still nothing. I kept trying to lift the darkness until I was thoroughly confused as to whether or not my eyes were open. Suddenly I remembered that I couldn’t breathe. The weight of the darkness pressed in around me. I swam up. I swam faster and faster as the panic swelled. I wasn’t going to make it. I stopped swimming, but my head didn’t. I doubled over in my convulsions. I gasped, and the water rushed in. I felt something snap in my chest.

I realized I didn’t have a chest, or a body at all. I looked up. There was a man.

He was cold. He wandered aimlessly through the void. Oh but he needed something, he ached with longing. There! In the distance, a pinprick of light. He tried to run, but the air turned to syrup. Oh the light and the warmth, how it would soothe. Steadily the light grew before him. He extended a smoky hand to the blazing fire. He loved it. Finally he came close enough and embraced it. It went out. First, despair, but then, another light! He got up and went after it.

As he proceeded in this manner, something began to move in from the periphery of his awareness. He was not alone. Far from void, this space was populated with a whole host of people like himself, chasing ever wispier flames. He stopped. As soon as he did, he noticed something else: a low, persistent thrumming, and a voice, harsh and black, issuing a stream of indistinct commands. The world echoed the sound all around him, and it began to reverberate within him, cutting across his thoughts, compelling him—

I was torn away from him by the voice. He started forward again, a part of the mob. The army faded as my attention shifted to the sounds again. There was something else just over the thrumming. An unearthly singing. It seemed to emanate from the vacuum above. As I followed it to its source, the blackness stormed around me in a rage.

I came across a giant. Its features were obscured by a blinding aura, sickly white and pulsing. It was the speaker. It did not appear to notice me. It held the palm of its hand forward. In the center there was a black disc, the source of the music. I saw something orbiting the giant: a cloud of flaming orbs, blue and cold. They swirled around and up away into the distance. They were powerless with fear of the singing disc. I realized I was one of them. The disc was hard to look closely at, but I stopped and tried. Everything else seemed to shrink. It wasn’t a disc, but a tremendous door. I entered.

[daywing-moved]

Let Me Go | Nessian Fic

Rating: M (tw: suicide mentions, blood/injury gore descriptions)

Summary: After a heated argument and cruel words, Nesta Archeron left the Illyrian Mountains for a mission. Upon her arrival home, Cassian smells blood and the pain of dancing with death. (Nessian angst and hurt fic. Not a death fic.)

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Fic Masterlist

Cassian could not stop seeing red.

Such unforgiving, dark red.

 He couldn’t stop seeing Nesta’s body half ripped open. Torn apart by whomever she had encountered on her trip to the mortal realm. Had not allowed himself to look closer, to assess her injuries, because he could not stop seeing the blur of red. He knew he would have ripped everything apart against his better judgment, and there was no room for mistakes. Especially now.

His mate, lying there.

So still. So close to the other side. He hadn’t thought it was possible for the incarnation of death to come that close to death itself.

And so he had flown.

He’d flown to the tip of the Illyrian Mountains, surrounded by the frosted mist and cold air. Somewhere where he could finally breathe—big heaves of panicked breaths and shudders—feel anything besides the shallow, uneven beats of Nesta’s own breaths.

He could feel all of her and none of him.

His hands shook.

Cassian could not bring himself to conjure the image of Nesta’s broken body. If he did, perhaps even his Siphons would not be enough to contain that undying rage and panic and fear fear fear-

And yet the picture kept spinning inside his mind.

What if the spies Rhys had sent hadn’t been there to witness it?

Where would Nesta be?

Would anyone have seen his mate getting ripped apart to pieces and pieces and pieces? Until his own heart was ripped to pieces and pieces and fluttered to the floor until it died with his mate six feet below ground?

Would Nesta have-

The word clanged through his mind like a cold wave drowning him under. Would Nesta have died?

Another great heave a breath. In, out. Cassian closed his eyes.

The image reappeared.

So close to death. If it had been a second later...Cassian might have tossed himself off the nearest cliff.

The one he was perching on right now.

What had he said to Nesta before she left? If she had-

If she did not live, what would have been his last words to her?

How are your sisters capable of loving such a monster? How am I capable of it? I can’t fathom. If I were you, I’d toss-

The room had gone silent then.

Nesta—Nesta Archeron, whom he had figured out layer by layer, like the petals of a thorned rose—had built her walls back up that moment.

You should go.

And like the stupid bastard he was, he had just turned around and left.

He’d just left. The unfinished sentence, the unspoken words, haunted him that night, and the next night, chasing him to training and through the skies, until he had felt an excruciating pain burst along every edge and seam of him days later, like he was falling into darkness and doom and eternal coldness-

If I were you, I’d toss myself off the balcony.

Cassian did not think he had known true fear until the moment that horrible pain had shot down the bond, making him double over on the floor. That moment, when he had connected the dots and realized with that knowing, imminent dread settling in his stomach, that something terrible had happened to his mate.

He’d burst out of the room he had been in and found blood drips on the ground.

Had smelled Nesta Archeron.

When some of the other Illyrians had witnessed the red-streaked ground and asked about it, he’d simply snarled, “Get out of my way,” and bursted inside the healers’ wing. He’d stared at Rhys’ concerned, starless gaze—knew and raged an inner scream that that gaze was for the well-being of how Feyre would fare with the news, not for Nesta. He had avoided the lithe figure draped in towels and bandages to his left.

Rhys had murmured quietly, “Cass.”

And Cassian had looked.

Had looked at his mate, insides half jutting out, lips cracked and smeared, red dripping from her nose, eyes closed, lashes fluttering, hair knotted and frenzied, and had stumbled back out of the tent with wild eyes and panicked breaths.

He’d taken to the skies after that, reminding himself how utterly useless he was in the life and death of his mate, his tether, his blood and soul, how completely worthless of a bastard he was for not being the first one to have tended to her and to have saved her. He’d sat here for the entire day, watching the sun rise over the mountains, only to be concealed by the clouds.

The pain of the sharp wind against his cheeks felt like a blessing.

Maybe all that red had leeched the rest of the color away from the world.

He sat here on the cliff, high above the entire world, and stared blankly at the bleak, gray clouds.

What would Nesta tell him to do?

Haul your ass up, his brain immediately replied, and he almost smiled. Almost. But that was the problem, wasn’t it?

Nesta wasn’t here.

She was in a tent. Half-dead, drowning in her own blood.

He’d been the one to suggest having Nesta take this mission. Her skills were in her political ability, the sharpness and cleverness of her tongue that could swipe all the chess pieces off the board with a single word.

It was his fault that a pair of knives had impaled themselves in her—if those knives had been an inch closer to Nesta’s center, she wouldn’t be breathing.

Was she still breathing?

Cassian started shaking his head to the misty sky as if he could undo all of that day. Rewind to the moment he decided to tell the lords to send Nesta to the mortal realm, because she would not be cowed but would still understand humans, and tell himself to close his mouth. Undo the moment Nesta confronted him, telling him she didn’t need him to get jobs for her, that she was capable of handling herself and what she wanted to do. He’d told her that he had been helping her, that it would raise her ranks amongst the Illyrians. Like she was some piece of filth who had been tagging along on the ride that needed to climb ranks. His apology to her the day she was about to leave had come out as a soliloquy of anger and fumes, burning her castle walls down until she realized that she needed to rebuild them stronger, higher.

He was a damned bastard. He did not deserve that day Nesta had accepted the bond, a few years ago. Maybe he should undo that moment, too.

Silent footsteps neared from behind him, coming from a figure trailed in shadows. Cassian didn’t bother turning to his brother.

“Cassian.”

Why did everyone say his name and his name only, without anything to follow it? As if uttering his name would magically make him forget that his mate was dying and make him continue every day like nothing was wrong.

Nothing was wrong.

This feeling of nothingness, the empty well inside him that was an infinitely deep abyss, the tethering strands of the mating bond flung over the side, felt wrong. And yet, so very right. It felt right to internally punch himself in the stomach over and over again.

Azriel rested a hand on Cassian’s shoulder, and Cassian’s lip curled. He did not need Az’s pity.

“I’m not,” the Shadowsinger said tacitly, as if he could read Cassian’s mind. I’m not pitying you. “They finished the procedure on Nesta a few hours ago. You’ve been sitting here the entire night.”

Cassian just stared ahead of him.

“You’re allowed to visit her.”

Cassian stayed still. “How is she?”

There was a pause that seemed to hold the world slightly off-balance, like the cliffs and the skies and the seas were all holding their breath.

Az’s shadows cloaked around him. “The healer said she whispered your name in her sleep. Nobody else is allowed in except for you.”

Maybe his heart had broken in two and he was scrambling to recollect the pieces. Cassian finally looked at Azriel, eyes shuttering but grasping onto that dangerous light of hope. “Do you think she wants to see me?”

The Shadowsinger’s face was unreadable as he replied vaguely,  “You’re her tether to this world.”

Cassian felt it then. The bond falling into the abyss, getting pulled back up, inch by inch, by someone so resilient and brave who had finally started pulling it back-

He rose to his feet and flared his wings. A nod at Az, and together, they took to the skies and back to the camp.

The winds howled in his ears like death became song. The camp appeared into view, sitting under the towering trees and the slate-gray sky.

His heart pounded furiously to the beat on the other side of the bond, fighting to remain a part of this world. Nesta, Nesta, Nesta.

The white flaps of the tent grazed his arm as he entered, looking away from Nesta’s figure propped up against the headboard. Her gaze barely shifted to him, dancing and flickering away.

Cassian felt like his body had gone numb.

She was covered in bandages. Some staining red and others fresh, and Cassian was seeing red again. Brutal, beaten red. Red, like the essence of life that made the most appearance when life was about to end.

He sank to his knees next to the bed and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Nesta.”

She turned his head away from him, and he closed his eyes at the small groan of pain it elicited from her.

Cassian shook his head. “I...I said too much too soon. All I wanted was...by the Cauldron, Nesta, I just-I didn’t mean it-”

“And yet you did,” she rasped. His wings drooped.

“I didn’t mean it that way. I-not that you need to raise your rank here or anything. I just thought that…” He trailed off, not knowing where he was going with this. It had come out of his mouth before it had even registered in his mind. Cassian sighed.

“I thought that you would be best for the mission. I’d been proud of your political abilities--still am--and I thought that being cooped up here in the mountains instead of using those skills in negotiation with the mortal realm was...gods, I don’t know. I just wanted something better for you.”

He watched a tear slide down her cheek and wanted to die then and there. “Nesta, please, look at me. If you’re going to let me go-” his voice broke, “-then at least look at me while you do it. Whatever you decide to do with...with my love. Just. Look at me.”

She turned to face him, and the devastation on her face was another slap to the face. “They were going to kill you,” she snarled. “They threatened to.”

Cassian’s blood ran cold. “What?”

“They were going to imprison me, and I fought. I fought because they were going to use me as bait-”

A growl ripped out of him. He would tear them apart.

“-for you. And I knew you would take the bait.”

Cassian swore his heart stopped. “Gods,” he breathed.

“I know you didn’t mean what you said. That doesn’t mean that you get to decide what missions I go on for me without my permission or talk to me that way. But they were going to kill you, and I couldn’t allow that when the last words we’d set to each other were-”

She closed her mouth abruptly, but Cassian just nodded. “I’m so sorry, Nesta. So, so sorry. I know that doesn’t fix a single damned thing, but I’d take it all back if I could.”

He wiped a tear away from her cheek. That drew another sob from her, great heaves of panicked breaths not because she was going to die, but because he might have exchanged his life for her. She tucked her head into the crook of his neck. Cassian held her tight, his chest tightening immeasurably. “I’ll be here. Always. I’ll be waiting wherever you go, but...Cauldron, Nes. I would really have come for you. But I would have torn them all apart.”

Nesta sniffled a little smile at that. He pressed a gentle kiss to her ruffled hair and spread his wings around them. There would be more time to talk, more time to piece together the puzzle pieces later. “Rest, love. I’ll be here.”

And so Nesta wiped the tears away, each one stripping her walls away until the entire complex of her palace was open to her mate, brimming and glistening with all those broken chandeliers that looked like starlight on the floor. When Cassian’s scent, more comforting than the crook of a pillow or the rustling of wind, slowly lured her to sleep, he stayed with her, was there for her. Always.

---------

tag list: @justgiu12 @maastrash @b00kworm @illyriangarbage @savemesoon8 @bryaxisthefaceofnightmares @yourtypicalbookworn @iammissstark @sayosdreams @sarcasticsashimi @sensitiveillyrian @sjm-things​ @courtofjurdan​ @acourtofmarauders​ @empress-ofbloodshed​ @ryhsrocks​ @thesirenwashere​ @rose-havilliard-calore​ 

[corkcitylibraries]

Book Review: Gøhril Gabrielsen’s Ankomst

by Dr. Sorcha Fogarty

Gabrielsen’s debut novel Unevnelige hendelser (Unspeakable Events) came out in 2006 winning Aschehoug’s First Book Award. She won the Tanum Women Writer’s Prize in 2010, and the Amalie Skram Prize for her oeuvre in 2016. Published by Peirene Press as part of their aptly titled Closed Universe series of books in 2020, Ankomst is Gabrielsen’s fifth novel and was awarded the 2017 Havmann Prize for Northern Norway Literature. It also was selected as one of the winners of the English PEN’s flagship translation awards of 2020.  

The first line of any novel should be a seduction, drawing the reader in, and Gabrielsen doesn’t disappoint, beginning Ankomst with “This is where the world ends”. The protagonist, who remains unnamed, is a Biologist and Environmental Scientist wintering on a remote Norwegian peninsula to collect data on the link between climate change and the decline in numbers of various species in order to complete her doctoral thesis. She has left behind her young daughter, her ex-husband, and her lover – whom she is convinced will be joining her imminently. We spend the entire 180 pages in the company of a woman whose name we do not even know, and the success of this book hinges entirely on Gabrielsen’s ability to create a fascinating protagonist out of this nameless, faceless woman. 

There is a kind of cyclical rhythm to the events of the novel – in a book just 180 pages long, we have 50 chapters, and each chapter is anywhere between one and five pages long. The short chapters are like bursts of information, a kind of pseudo-diary, narrated in the first person, and this narrative technique serves to build tension and an impending sense of doom aided by the detailed descriptions of the surroundings, the relentlessly foreboding seas and skies. Throughout Ankomst, the rational is juxtaposed with the emotional, as our scientifically-minded narrator attempts to suppress her growing emotional turmoil through her daily chores and her commitment to completing her thesis. She painstakingly measures environmental conditions and takes data readings, stating “Emotions should be like that. Measurable. Predictable.” But, as we all know, they’re not. And, as the story progresses, her emotions defy such neat containment as the pressure of her isolation becomes all the more apparent. There is a sense of remoteness and drifting towards madness as she endeavours to plow on with her work while she reflects on the collapse of her personal life. Furthermore, the lover she is waiting for never seems to arrive. 

The Norwegian word “ankomst” translates as “arrival/coming/entrance (the act of entering)”. However, paradoxically, the book is less about where the protagonist has come to than about what she’s running away from. Having left so much behind, she hopes she can move on with her life. Her longing for “clear and measurable phenomena” and a “language of indisputable realities, rather than dumb, undefinable feelings” gives way to a declining mental state, as she spends much of her time alone pondering a story found in a pamphlet she discovers, regarding a house that burned down 140 years ago close to the site of her hut. Using the few details given, she conjures up an elaborate story of what might have happened, imagining the life of the family and their hardship. However, this is all merely a projection of her own past, and as the story progresses we are drip fed more information about what came before the trip, and the end of her marriage to a man simply referred to as S. 

The rational thinker becomes drawn towards the irrational, and the remoteness she has sought starts to feel less like a refuge and more like a threat, “And now I can hear it again, the sound of moaning [...]. Is it coming from me or the stove? Is it just the embers dying? The logs collapsing and turning to ash?” Is it her imagination or is there someone else around? We’re never really sure if this is a manifestation of her paranoia or something more. As the narrator begins to suspect that her lover is not so keen on joining her, and as the constant solitude begins to wear her down, her mind begins to play tricks on her, with occasional blackouts and suspicions of objects moving of their own accord. Is she starting to lose her mind? Or, as suggested above, more disturbingly, is she not as alone as she thinks? While the brilliant 20th century philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre famously ended his play No Exit with the line, “Hell is Other People”, and we have all experienced some sort of “social overload” at times, needing solitude in order to recharge ourselves, prolonged isolation is widely recognised as a precursor to many serious mental health problems. Like it or not, we are social animals, and fundamentally, we need other people. Limited social engagements have deleterious emotional effects including a rise in fear and paranoia and a decrease in self-esteem. 

There are a lot of common horror elements in the book – the setting of The Thing, and the isolation and supernatural elements of The Shining. One critic has noted that it also has a lot in common thematically with space thrillers, like Gravity, The Martian or Moon, a comparison which Gabrielsen herself has noted – “It strikes me that fieldwork has many similarities to a stay on a space station. Like an astronaut I find myself in a desolate place, lonely and infinitely far from people, utterly dependent on technology as my sole link to the world beyond”. Ankomst is essentially a story of slow-burning dread, a tale which highlights the effects of isolation with only the primal forces of nature for company. Ultimately, this strange yet captivating work illustrates that sometimes, the things we may be trying to flee from aren’t so easy to escape, especially when most of them are in our own minds.

[lightcreators]

𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂   𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒   𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌   𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓   @gcods

Attentionate agathe-diopside gaze were facing in front of a paradox duality into how he could picturing Enoshima-san look at this moment. Though it wasn’t something he refused to be aloud with, though he was hidden himself under the mirror of happiness along his smile and the casual disinterest he could have towards the outside people --- he loathed, from the bottom of his heart, the sight of despair. Any preview of this emotion, of himself, into people around him; any mention of that word disgusted him beyond anything. It was the reflection of a world he was familiar with --- of future tragedies to come, to potential imminent bad news that would falling down into his existence without mean to stop it, of emotionally sadness to picture towards the closeness he made with another fellow, to be removed of the golden treatment he received from life….the association he had with the opposite of what he represented from his perspective touched him deeper than the random comments he leaved about how terrible was his place…beyond what he admitted.

There was no worries to be done if circumstances sometimes turned unlucky by moments before suddenly bring the most unexpected good things right down in front of him --- it involved only his talent of finally ending winner regardless of what could have happened. He always have been that lucky after all --- his talent didn’t involve too much actions of his part, he was protected by a superior blessing than no one couldn’t explain hence making him the ultimate optimist among all...However, if someone else exposed decomposed sadness into a higher level that could be similar to an pleading and hopeless state --- it was the omen of something worse and further uncontrollable would happen in a nearest future.

Since his time at Hope Peak Academy taking his ease and trying to enter in communication, no dreadful signals of tragedy encrusted themselves into his personal life. Though --- there had been blood plastered into the protected walls of this school, when police had seeking information among the students and which a close case had been placed about ‘the incident’. At that time, he had been scared than something horrible could have appeared in the middle of it, since Hajime Hinata class was mainly impacted by it --- however, Hinata-kun was still present with them…at least, for the time being…having that unkind sentiment that tragedy would have bringing down something into the other boy…it was something he was common with: people close to him ended up badly, fatally touched by the setback of his luck at some point. Himself pushed away the density of recollections until he saw how the disappointment exposed into Enoshima-san expression, how her hands dramatically moved to her comment, how sweet words were almost be said into that dreadful sentence. What disgusting him the most was how spontaneously his thoughts reacted: despair suited her perfectly. Enoshima-san was likewise to a beauty mythic figure who walked among the living. Another presentiment filled his entire being --- there was the paradox how the unreality of this expression bring realization how natural it sounded.

❝  Enoshima-san --- take a healthy dose of optimism. Your potential which you possess doesn’t cease increasing each day a little more, while exploding slowly towards the sought-after infinity!  ❞ The emergence of an overjoyed smile taking over his features as he exclaimed. He wouldn't expose how dooming this little presence of despair reacted on him, how every fiber of his soul wanted to act as a complete contradiction, how it was necessary to obliterate despair. At first glance, Komaeda had been closer to confessing he might be his presence who caused that delirious sensation she wasn’t feeling doing the best of what she was capable of --- nevertheless, in spite of how uncommon his methods were, he would encourage to always do better, to never to give up, to see beyond the black hole that was their own personal judgment on themselves. Temptation to bring the words he might be for something still cannot helped. Consciousness about how people changed to having him into their life cannot be left behind.  ❝ It’s probably the effect of our frequentation --- given the greatness of what I see in my view, you can't help but underestimate yourself and think that you are worth less of the truth. Enoshima-san --- you can act directly on your talent compared to mine. By comparison, I seem to come straight out of an unbearable hell where the worst is yet to come but you, with all the beauty you have, with all the love you have, with all the magic that your hands have, you can become a deity!  What does it matter if a touch-up software stains the beauty that the eyes of talented students can see. The whole school keeps talking how beautiful you are!  ❞

[nezzfiction]

ENMY Chapter 89 - Fourth Crusade (Part One)

Chapter Synopsis: The Kingdom of Vacuo is about to enter its most daunting challenge since its conception. Salem is launching the Fourth Crusade. A war to end some of Remnant’s greatest warriors, including Team ENMY. Assistance from Atlas is on its way, but will the Fleet arrive in time to make a difference?

Only one thing is certain. Whatever happens in Vacuo will echo the events to come for the rest of Remnant.

Series Synopsis: Team RWBY is disbanded, and Yang must find herself new allies. For her, that might very well be yesterday’s enemies. Joining up with the likes of Emerald, Mercury, and Neo, the four will comprise Team Enemy(ENMY).

Links to read the series: Ao3 or FF.net

Or hit the jump below

.

Fourth Crusade (Part One)

.

Well, I looked my demons in the eyes, laid bare my chest,

Said, “Do your best. Destroy me. You see, I’ve been to hell and back so many times, I must admit,

You kind of bore me.”

.

.

“Have you finished relaying the situation?” Temujin asked.

“Ran your people the basic play by play,” Emerald answered. “Cuckoos gone, some of their loved ones gone, hordes of Grimm, plus, a giant freakin’ butterfly making a beeline for us.”

“Moth.”

“What?”

“It’s a moth.”

“Right. Behemoth. I get it.”

“Have you modified their emotions?”

“Tweaked them just a touch. They were as angry as you wanted them to be and ready to war without it.”

“That will do. Wake them. And connect my thoughts to theirs.”

“From sweet dreams to full-blown nightmare. This is gonna be a scene.”

As the mental connection secured, Temujin stepped onto the balcony of the Hanging Gardens. She sat on her small stool, and took her familiar horse-fiddle in her hands. As she touched the bow to the strings, her throat opened and she drew strength from her diaphragm.

Another tragedy to carve in these old bones one last time.

One last burden.

One last sin.

Temujin bore her soul bare to the untethered sun and the desert’s hot air.

Answer me, one last time.

My Kingdom of Blades.

A low, soulful song reverberated into the skies above Vacuo. Its volume began low, but slowly and surely, its melody became a crescendo that shook the heavens. The citizens roused to its sound. The voice of their Great Khan, the voice of their Kingdom. It called them to arms.

I failed you.

I deceived you.

I betrayed the Code I set for you all.

But will you answer me once more?

If this is our end, will we stand together?

How will we march into the darkness?

With fear?

Or will it be with Wrath in our hearts?

A single command coursed through the minds of her people. A pure emotion of most unmitigated rage. A sweltering draught that drowned away their sorrows.

All across the city, the citizens of Vacuo stirred. They stood tall with their chests out. Their weapons drawn and raised high.

“An Eye for an Eye.”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

Despite the conference room in Atlas HQ being something the size of a small theater, all its occupants were struck silent. None could watch the floating projection, and not be horrified by what was displayed.

Finally, a lone, timid voice spoke what they were all thinking.

“They’re doomed.”

The digital map zoomed out to show the Vacuo capital and its surrounding lands. Rounding to hit the city from the North and South were hosts of Grimm almost twice the city’s size A flood of red markers filled the edges of the map, but the more imminent threat was displayed by the monstrous Behemoth flying directly from the West.

Murmurs began flooding the room. Mutterings of disbelief and fear rose with a rising tide.

“How can that many Grimm be controlled?”

“If something like that attacked us, would the Aegis and Javelin System be enough?”

“We should order our Fleet back. Strengthen our defenses here.”

“It’s all over for them.”

A hand slammed loudly onto the table. Cinder’s furious gaze silenced the room and brought order to the staff.

“How far is the reinforcement Fleet?” she asked.

None made a move.

“How far are they?!”

They all jumped, and one officer rapidly tapped her tablet.

“Still a day’s flight, ma’am! Twenty hours estimated!”

“Is there any way to shorten the travel time for the remaining distance?”

“They could possibly cut down a few hours by traveling at maximum thrust. However, that would only be possible for a small portion of the Fleet.”

“…”

“It would be advised not to separate—”

“I know that!” Cinder shouted in exasperation.

“……Ma’am, I think we should consider withdrawing the reinforcements.”

The Black Queen offered no response to the suggestion. She remained quiet, studying the scales and balances in her head. There was a tough call to make in this. The future of Atlas, and more importantly Remnant’s, would hinge on the actions she took now.

We didn’t expect Salem’s resources to be so extensive.

Can Vacuo hold until the Fleet arrives?

Even with the little aces up our sleeves, the chances of victory are too low to entertain.

Initiating the fight with Salem backfired.

No, it would have been worse to wait. At least, the Cuckoos have been removed from the board.

Is the situation still salvageable?

…

The smart move would be to recall our forces.

By the time they arrive, Vacuo will likely be overrun to a point they cannot recover.

…

…

Team ENMY must be evacuated.

Cinder looked up to the officer-in-waiting.

“Sortie the light-traveling transport marked Swordfish ahead to retrieve—”

“Belay that order.”

Cinder turned in surprise to Weiss’ sudden interruption. Her surprise quickly transitioned to smoldering fury.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“We aren’t sure Vacuo is lost yet,” Weiss answered.

“With all due respect, my fellow Queen, Vacuo can’t possibly hold out against that,” Cinder motioned to the projection. “Not until reinforcements arrive, and even then, the chances of victory are too small to consider.”

“We need to contact Team ENMY.”

“We will give them the order to evacuate—and they will follow it.”

“Cinder…”

“…What?”

The Black Queen squinted, as the White leaned closer to speak loud enough so only they could hear.

“You know, better than I, the things Team ENMY is capable of.”

“I do,” Cinder nodded. “They can perform the impossible given the right circumstances. With adequate preparation and strong mental grit, they can and will perform outside expectation. But what Salem has brought to the board is completely out of their depth.”

“I want to hear what they have to report first.”

“And we shall, but do not hold out hope.”

“At this point, hope might be all we have.”

Cinder went quiet for a moment.

“I detest the idea of abandoning our allies more than you would believe, and this miscalculation frustrates me to no end—but we cannot afford to be stubborn at this juncture. I thought you were smarter than this.”

“I doubt we can outsmart the Witch, if that’s what we’ve been trying to do.”

“…”

“She’s had decades to prepare and plan and manipulate the variables, Cinder. We can’t win that way.”

Weiss’ words rung deep with the Black Queen. It was a thought she fought hard to abate, but seeing the might Salem brought live on the projection, Cinder could only face the truth. If this was a chess game, it wasn’t fair to begin with. The Witch had too many pieces from the start and moved several times before her first turn came.  

It was enough to dishearten anyone.

But that was not what Cinder saw when she met her coregent’s eyes.

“…What are you thinking?” she couldn’t help but utter, almost disbelievingly.

“I’m not sure myself,” Weiss shook her head. “I think we have a choice, Cinder. It’s the choice you and I have been dreading without really knowing what it was.”

“…”

“I can feel it. We have to make a stand here. We have to.”

“…Is that your head speaking, or your heart, I wonder?”

“Both.”

“Very well, Weiss. We will delay ordering the retreat.”

Weiss blinked in surprise.

“Really?”

“As I said before, your counsels are always welcome. No matter how naïve or ludicrous they may be.”

“Hmph!”

Seeing her fellow Queen pout brought a slight smile, as well as lighten Cinder’s mood. She turned to the adjutant and gave the following order,

“Mobilize all the light transports. Few reinforcements sooner are better than none too late. Have the rest of the Fleet maintain course. Inform Trafalgar and Ironwood of the situation and our decision.”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am,” the officer saluted, and tapped at her tablet.

“And open a direct channel with Team ENMY in real time. Priority one.”

“Ma’am, it will take some time to construct a secure line.”

“It doesn’t need to be encrypted. I don’t care if Temujin eavesdrops on our conversation.”

“Yes, ma’am. Right away.”

Cinder breathed a quiet sigh and glanced at Weiss beside her.

“This is quite the gambit, my Queen.”

“You could have overruled me easily. You are, as you’re so fond of reminding me, director of all affairs military.”

“Indeed. But if I had to say…”

“I also think, a stand must be made.”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

The throne room of the Hanging Gardens was instantly converted into a war room. Various communication equipment had been rigged around the chamber to coordinate their armies.

Ilia was busy giving sortie orders to the city wall’s hangars and garages to mobilize airships and other modes of transport. Nai had left earlier to join the battalion heading North. Minerva was dividing her students between those transported to the safety bunkers and those who would join the battle in the South.

Meanwhile, Temujin, the Rakis siblings, and Team ENMY had their attentions concentrated on the bigger picture.

“You’re sending an awful lot of your people to cover the armies at the flanks,” Emerald commented.

“Yes,” Temujin answered simply.

“But Behemoth was going to hit the city first. You want to take the fight to the other fronts, outside the walls.”

“Yes.”

“We were supposed to be locking down siege defense after we got rid of the Cuckoos.”

“We were.”

A tense silence filled the atmosphere.

“……You’re abandoning the city?” she whispered low.

Temujin didn’t give Emerald an answer. She rechecked how Vacuo’s military was being divvied up. It appeared none of the staff officers noticed how none of their forces were being devoted to Behemoth. The only way that was possible was if…

Emerald felt the stares of the Rakis siblings on her. Mouse and Knives were the most senior commanders just below Temujin. Minerva and Nai weren’t around, hands full with their own tasks.

“You knew you would have to abandon the city?” Emerald asked, remembering the Precognition Semblance the siblings had. “This was a future you guys saw?”

Mouse and Knives nodded slightly.

“So, what?! We went through with Operation Gun Dog for nothing?”

“It served its purpose. We also believed it might cause a deviation in the future they saw,” Temujin explained. “But it seems our gamble did not pay off on that venture.”

“Great! Thanks for clueing us in this late in the game. We knew Salem’s army wasn’t fucking around, but the wonder siblings didn’t see that big ass, Mothra-fucker coming?”

“The Witch did well to hide it. If you studied the material on our Grimm, you know Behemoth was outside expectation.”  

“Yeah, it’s only in its adult form seven days out of the whole year. It also works on a strict timeclock, so you spawn-kill it as soon as it hatches out of its cocoon, far away from the any settlement.”

“There were measures to exterminate it months from now. In the worst case, we would have waited until it exhausted its lifespan.”

“Looks like there’s a new worst case now.”

“It is near impossible to defeat in fair, open ground. If the brunt of our forces were used to counter it, there would be nothing left when Salem’s main army arrived.”

“FUCK!”

Emerald continued to trade glares from Temujin to the large moth taking up the monitors. Poisonous powders spread beneath the Grimm’s shadow. Its toxins carried into the gusts of its wings. Once in a while, a few scales would drop from its body, unrolling into giant, armored caterpillars.  

In addition to its other absurd traits, the Grimm possessed one other ability.

“You guys see any new visions of the future?” Emerald asked.

“…Yes,” Mouse squeaked out an answer.

“Let me guess. If you kept all your people behind the walls, and concentrated your attacks on Behemoth, it would’ve suicide bombed the city.”

Upon the Grimm’s death, it shed all of its scales, which caused an unfathomable amount of carnage in the surrounding environment. It was another reason the Vacuo military tried to lessen the damage by disposing it elsewhere.

“Salem won’t waste time. She’ll have it belly flop the city anyway,” Emerald bit her thumbnail. “That’s what I’d do. It’s too slow to wipe a good percent of a moving army, but it can level a lot of your standing fortifications. Salem’s trying to weaken the siege defense for the later game.”

“We have come to similar conclusions.”

“Any chance we can bring it down before it gets inside the walls?” Emerald continued to press.

“My sister and I foresaw something else, which our scouts have since then confirm.”

Mouse touched a nearby monitor and enhanced the image on the screen. Zoomed onto the back of Behemoth was a small army of Grimm. The groups seemed to be crowding something at their center like a shield wall. When the image was further enhanced, Team ENMY saw what was there.

A few of the Grimm Clan Leaders were identified. Camlann, Azkaban, and Combine were commanding their brethren from afar, while riding Behemoth’s back. The combination of area effects between Azkaban and Combine alone were enough to deter any real resistance. Their abilities were much more potent than the average Cuckoo or Daemontor, and their effect radiuses even wider so.

“…Crap. Then, what’s the plan?” Yang spoke up. “You guys do have a plan, right?”

Temujin looked to her goddaughter strangely, and sighed.

“A course of action is in place. Behemoth will be allowed to detonate within the city. After its death, our armies will retreat back behind whatever is left of the fortifications and initiate siege defense as planned.”

Yang threw Temujin an accusatory look.

“But the other citizens…!”

“Some will survive.”

“More will die!!!”

“Our warriors will fight all the harder.”

“You can’t be serious!”

Just then, Yang felt the oxygen empty from her lungs. She coughed violently from Temujin’s sudden activation of her territorial Semblance.

“I am deadly serious, my foolish goddaughter. It is the only way my people will survive.”

“By offering some of them on a silver platter…!” Yang forced her voice through. “I didn’t know you had such an ego…! I didn’t know you were so cold…!”

“You have no idea.”

“You’d sacrifice anything to win! What makes you so different from Salem?!”

“…Not much I suppose.”

“Bullshit!!!” Yang turned, and stormed from the throne room. Her team followed after.

Once ENMY was gone, Temujin bade a forlorn gaze to Knives and Mouse. Both were positively fuming and biting the edges of their lips to keep silent.

Good job holding back, you two.

We can’t have them staying behind, if they knew the truth.

Yang is right, though.

I would sacrifice anything to win…

Even myself.

.

X  X X  X  X

.

As Yang stomped angrily out into the hall, her team caught up to her—right as she punched a hole through the nearby wall.

“Yang,” Emerald said with a hint of disappointment.

“I know what you’re going to say, Em.”

“Yeah, well. I’m going to say it anyway. Temujin’s making the right call.”

“I don’t know about ‘right’.”

“Either some die, or they all die together. Minus one is better than minus a hundred. The math isn’t hard to figure.”

“Or, we can make it’s minus zero.”

Yang stared at Emerald meaningfully, while the team leader narrowed her brow in return.

“Yang…”

“We can bring down Behemoth, Em.”

“Not after the gas we just spent on Operation Gun Dog. Not in time, anyway.”

“We can do it.”

Emerald held her head like she was massaging a migraine.

“Do I have to remind you how this is supposed to work? We frontload our hand on Operation Gun Dog. THEN, we rest a tic to recover what we spent. And only after, do we actually get in on the real fight with Salem’s army.”

“Except there’s no time to rest, because Behemoth is going to cannonball the city! We’re the only ones with enough firepower and mobility to stop it!”

“Alright. So tell me, what happens when we burn ourselves down to the felt taking down Behemoth—which is a little more than an impossible ask, by the way? You think Salem’s gonna pass up the chance to ghost us while we’re catching breaths in-between suicide missions? We know a certain somebody won’t.”

“We have to, Em! Innocent people will die!”

“You and I both know the safety bunkers might hold up,” Emerald crossed her arms with a suspecting stare.

“We don’t know that,” Yang argued back.

“Some of them will.”

“A lot of them won’t!”

“Yang.”

“What?!”

“I should be asking you that.” Emerald stepped close to Yang’s face. “What’s with you? Since when were you so touchy about people dying?”

“Since always!”

“No, not when we had to fight on Dracul. Not when we were making enemies in Vale. And definitely, not when we were taking over Atlas. I mean, you did, but not like this. So, what gives?”

Yang gave Emerald a long, pleading look, before answering.

“…Because this was our chance to do some good.”

“…”

“Hehe…! Stupid me, right?” she chuckled sadly. “After all the shady things we’ve done, I just wanted to do some good—some actual, honest good. Save lives instead of being the reason people lost them. Guess I should’ve known better.”

“Yang.”

“I know, Em.”

“It’s not how our team does things.”

“Yeah. We’re the enemy. We attack. Protecting and saving people isn’t our rep.”

“I’m…sorry.”

“No. Nothing to be sorry about.” Yang gave a vague shake of her head. “I’ll get my game straight in a second. Just let me know when we’re moving out of the city. Till then, I’ll take a rest. Gotta refill the reserves, right?”

As the girl dragged her feet off with drooping shoulders, Neo braced her waist with a comforting hand. Together, they went to look for a private room. Emerald and Mercury were left alone in the hallway.

“…Don’t say anything,” Emerald said, after a time.

“What?” Mercury put his hands up innocently. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Stop. You go weak whenever Yang pulls that ‘puppy dog that just got kicked’ look.”

“More like, ‘you just kicked that puppy dog’s dreams’ look, but same difference.”

“UGH!”

“What are we gonna do?”

“What do you mean?! I just said what we were going to do!”

“Yeah…but what are we really going to do?”

Emerald glared fiercely at Mercury’s passively waiting demeanor. The staring contest lasted for a couple of unblinking seconds.

“AAARRRGGHHH!!! DAMMIT! FUCK!!!” the team leader vented her curses.

“You’re getting softer, boss.”

“And who’s fault is that?! Stupid, moral, nobility craphat. Annoying, blonde, bullshit, punchy…”

As Emerald continued to mutter endless profanities under her breath, her scroll gave a soft ring.

“Welp, saw this coming.” She coughed to clear her throat, before answering. As soon as the line went live, Emerald tried to make her tone as professional as possible. “Let me guess, we’re being ordered to ditch Vacuo?”

“…The matter isn’t finalized,” Cinder’s voice came from the other end. “There is no shame for you and your team to retreat.”

“Yeah, I’ll say. Shit’s not about to just hit the fan here, it’s going to—am I on speaker?”

“Yes.”

“Whole room?”

“Fortunately, only Weiss and myself.”

“Great.”

“Your report.”

“It’s bad, Cinder. Real bad. I know you probably have an idea, but it’s nowhere close to what we’re seeing here.”

“So, Vacuo is lost?”

Emerald thought for a moment.

“……These people are strong,” she gave an uneasy laugh. “I saw Salem’s army with my own eyes—it’s like signs of the freakin’ apocalypse! But these people, they want to fight. They will die fighting.”

“You cannot let their behavior influence your own.”

“I know, I’m trying to say something different. Cinder, Vacuo is worth saving. We shouldn’t abandon them. We need them on our side.”

“They are that valuable an asset?”

“They are. This alliance is the most important investment Atlas needs to make.”

“Sounds like a sales pitch. Tell me what truly whispers in your heart.”

“…” Emerald braced a hand to her chest. “Team ENMY is going to take down Behemoth.”

“So soon after your previous mission?”

“I know we were supposed to take a power nap before the next big fight, but you see that thing.”

“You intend to accomplish this by yourselves?”

“Temujin’s diverting all her forces to the North and South.”

“She plans to forfeit the city. A calculated choice.”

“We’ll manage.”

“This is reckless,” Cinder ended with a short pause. “What would you do if I ordered you from doing so?”

“……I’ll always listen to you, Cinder. If you tell me to take my team, and get the hell out of Vacuo, I’ll do it. I’ll drag Yang back, even if she hates me. You say the word, I’ll listen. Always.”

“…”

“But I’m asking you to trust me. Let me make this call. My team can swing this.”

For a moment, Emerald swore she heard Cinder’s breath stifle with emotion. A second later, the other spoke again.

“You are ordered to return to me,” the Black Queen commanded almost angrily. “Alive and in one piece—but at a time of your choosing.”

“I promise!” Emerald answered quickly. “I promise I’ll come back!”

“Hmph. You are aware any infidelity towards your Queen’s orders incurs the highest of penalties.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“So, how do you plan to perish the creature?”

“…”

“Emerald?”

“I have an idea.”

“So, speak it.”

“You guys might not like it.”

“……Speak it.”

Emerald took a searing deep breath between her teeth.

“We might have to use a couple of the aces we’ve been banking.”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

A few miles south of the capital, Vacuo’s military made first contact with the Grimm army. The battalion was tasked with eliminating the enemy’s first wave and slowing their advance towards the city. A part of them knew it would be no easy task.

But they did not know how difficult it would be until they saw the head of the horde.

“My, aren’t these some familiar faces?” the cold voice lingered.

While countless Grimm smashed into the lines of Vacuo’s warriors, a smaller battle was waged in the midst of chaos.

“Tai!” Glynda called.

“I know!”

The head of a Grimm King Taijitu struck at Glynda and Minerva, trying to snap the pair of sorcerers in its jaws. But Taiyang was able to position himself in time. His hands gripped each fang firmly, and slid his feet to a stop. Tattoos covered every inch of his arm, signaling the activation of his Semblance.

While their vanguard held down the threat, Glynda and Minerva aimed a set of spells at the source. A storm of raining ice and flames fell before them. Their target, pelted with blizzardous hellfire.  

“Hm. That was much less than I expected,” the chilling voice came again.

Undaunted by the Magic spells, an enormous tortoise shell remained when the sand clouds dissipated. It was white, bony, and jagged.  And as the Grimm barrier cracked open, it revealed a dark silhouette underneath. Their arm still connected to the King Taijitu head grappling with Taiyang.

“It seems my Crusade will be easier than I anticipated,” Salem taunted. “I knew you would be lost without Ozpin—but I didn’t quite know how lost.”

She gave her arm a tug, and from atop the Taijitu’s skull, a scorpion’s tail sprouted. The stinger snapped towards Taiyang’s head, but the man was able to dodge the blow at the last second. The tip caught his collar, but even then, it only left a small mark on his reinforced skin.

“That all you got?!” Taiyang shouted.

“Typical,” Salem scoffed.

The Witch materialized a long, ornamental hairpin from her robes. Its end was decorated with an elegantly jewel-crafted butterfly. Then, without any hesitation, stabbed the point of the needle into her collar bone, matching the placement with the scratch inflicted on Taiyang.

At the same time, blood spewed both their bodies. The man let out a scream of panicked anguish before steeling himself enough to leap back to safety. His hand clutched the base of his neck, where blood dribbled between his fingers.

The Witch on the other hand, showed only indifference to the curse-inflicted wound. She continued to observe her three opponents without paying mind to the black liquid spraying out. Only after a few seconds passed, did Salem spin a web from her fingertip to bandage the gash.

Taiyang badgered himself for his carelessness and forced his wound close with his Semblance. Though it stopped the bleeding, the fix was only skin deep. Regardless, he took a fighting stance, showing he was ready to go, but a gentle hand rested his shoulder.

“Assist the others, Tai,” Glynda spoke with consolation in her voice. “Leave this to me and Minerva.”

“This battle will no longer take place within the confines of this realm,” the Headmaster of Shade added.

Taiyang wanted to argue back, but prior experience held his tongue.

“Yes, run along now, little lionheart,” Salem condescended with a brushing gesture.

“Only certain performers are allowed to share this stage.”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

“This is the best we could do, huh?” Yang asked.

“Yep. Everything’s zeroed on this spot,” Emerald replied.

“Couldn’t make it any farther out?”

“Considering all the last-minute strings we had to pull to make this puppet show dance, I’m surprised we made this much space at all. Let’s just be happy and take what we can get, shall we?”

On the farthest edge of Vacuo’s western wall, Yang and Emerald plopped down to take a seat. Their feet dangled off the side. Neo and Mercury joined them shortly. The four stared passively at Behemoth encroaching their position. They could see armies warring at the corner of their peripheries to the left and right.

Although they were aware of the violent events transpiring, and those to come, the team basked in the oddly-serendipitous moment of peace. For them, nothing would happen for the next few minutes. All manner of dangers were far or on their way. All they could do was wait. And likely, due to repeated instances of high intensity, even a few minutes of waiting was enough to bring a calmness to their nerves.

Neo pulled out an apple, and sliced off a few pieces with her sword. One by one, she passed the slips of fruit to her teammates. And the four munched on the small snack, while watching Behemoth beat its wings towards them. Nothing left, but to bide their time until the omen of destruction’s arrival.

“So, everyone around’s been cleared out?” Yang started.

“Yup. Zero possible casualties, except for maybe us. Just the way you like it,” Emerald replied.

“See? Doesn’t it feel nice to do the right thing?”

“Fuck the right thing. That’s not why I did this.”

“Oh? Then, why did you do it? I thought your self-proclaimed moral compass was broken.”

Emerald glared at her silently.

It is broken.

I mostly did this cause of you…

“Still, thanks for doing it.” Yang beamed with a warm smile. “I mean it, Em.”

Yang was about to pop another apple slice in her mouth, when Emerald snatched it midair. Taking it as some abstract price exacted, the girl didn’t make a fuss. Only taking replacement from Neo, who was performing her own magic trick of producing endless fruit out of thin air.

“Hey, Em?”

“Yeah, Yang?”

“Did Temujin seem…weird to you? You know, back there?”

“Temujin’s always weird.”

“Yeah, but… evasive.”

“Temujin’s always evasive.”

“You know what I mean,” Yang groaned. “Back when she told us she was abandoning the city, and even when we told her our plan, she just okayed it like it was nothing.”

“You prefer she argue with us? We practically handed her a ‘we’ll save your city for free’ card. Maybe, she just didn’t want to look a gift horse in the anus.”

“Uh, it’s teeth.”

“What is?”

“The saying. It’s ‘gift horse in the teeth’.”

“Oh. Mercury lied to me.”

“No, it’s definitely anus,” Mercury mumbled, stuffing more apples into his mouth. “That’s how you tell the horse’s age.”

“Okay! But you know what I’m saying,” Yang brought the topic back. “What futures did Mouse and Knives see? And what else aren’t they telling us? Temujin doesn’t seem the type, but she looks kind of like she’s given up. What else are they hiding?”

“Who knows,” Emerald shrugged.

“I know you’ve thought about it.”

“I got a few ideas, but nothing concrete.”

“This isn’t the time for our sides to keep secrets.” Yang let out an exasperated groan before popping another slice into her mouth. “Cinder and Weiss are ready to pull us out. Temujin has to know that. She needs to be open with us.”

“It’s not like we tipped all of our hand to her either. Still gotta play a few things close to the chest. Distrust goes both ways.”

“I thought we were in an alliance.”

“I think this is about as much two Kingdoms can trust each other without actually merging. And that’s without all the bad blood between Vacuo and Atlas.”

“We need to be on the same page, Em. Salem found a crack in our team, and pried it apart. What do you think she’ll do to two Kingdoms?”

Emerald paused, and then bit into the next crunchy morsel Neo handed her.

“True. If Vacuo somehow gets out of this intact, I wouldn’t put it past Salem to turn one of the Kingdoms against the other. You have an idea bouncing around that noggin? Or do you just like adding new problems to my ‘shit I gotta figure out’ list?”

“We need to have a sit down with Temujin. At the least, we need to hear everything the siblings predicted so far.”

“Yeah, she’s kept us in the deep dark about their visions. Not just us, but her own people, too.”

“And if we’re learning anything, whatever Temujin hides is worth finding out.”

“Emerald,” a voice came over the Enchantress’ mental link. “Are we ready to begin?”

“Yeah. Just about,” she responded, and got up.

At that moment, a number of transmissions reached Team ENMY’s communications.

“Alrighty. Time to set the world record for taking down a bunch of Nightmare Class Grimm in a row, maybe!” Emerald announced.

“All boss speedrun!” Mercury fake cheered.

Yang turned to Neo with a loving stare.

“Got my back?” she winked.

Neo smiled widely.

Yup.

.

X  X X  X  X

.

(An hour ago)

“Are we sure this is wise?” General Ironwood couldn’t help voicing his doubts. “We were supposed to wait until we were closer to attempt this.”

“Drastic measures, General,” Trafalgar answered, next to him on the bridge. “Sometimes, all we can do is take a leap of faith.”

“There are countless variables which can skew the accuracy.”

“That’s why it’s called a leap and not a step, or a modest crawl.”

Ironwood breathed a sigh, before speaking into the console.

“Alright, Penny. Permission to arm.”

“Armed and READY, Mr. Ironwood!” the girl answered with a chipper.

“Execute.”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

“……. What the hell are you kids thinking?” Qrow muttered his disbelief.

“I’m thinking we need your help to bring down Behemoth. Is the wax building up in your ears, grandpa?” Emerald replied.

“Don’t call me grandpa!”

“The other guy is definitely a grandpa. As a matter of fact, he’s the grandest of grandpas. So, you gonna help us or not?”

“I thought the plan was to surprise Salem with an ambush.”

“Plans change. Roll with it.”

Qrow breathed one of the most soul-draining sighs in his life, before centering himself to continue.

“Okay. So, let me make sure I got this right. You need me to use Titan’s power to help you kill Behemoth.”

“Yup!”

“But before that, you need me to stick my neck out.”

“You got it.”

“I immediately don’t like this…”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

“I think I’m going to like this,” Raven gave a soft chuckle.

“I thought you would,” Emerald shared in the mental laugh. “Shouldn’t be a violation against whatever your contract is with Salem, right?”

“Only you brats could come up with something this sloppy and effective.”

“Compliment received.”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

Out in the ocean separating Atlas from Vacuo, the acting reinforcements of the Atlesian Fleet came to a full stop. While the airships hovered as still as possible, their artillery battery raised to a high angle. Tapped into each vessel’s control system and calculating a complex aiming algorithm was a certain android.

“Coordinates fixed. Real-time calculations complete. Trajectory courses confirmed!” Penny cheered.

“FIRNG ALL ORDNANCE!”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

(Back to the Present)

Team ENMY turned their gazes eastward, where a flock of glistening projectiles soared towards their position.

“Whoa, that’s gonna be close,” Yang commented.

“Yeah, well. It’s supposed to be,” Emerald sneered, as she elbowed Mercury’s side. “You’re up, top gun. Make sure it’s not us that gets our ass fricasseed.”

“On it, boss.”

Mercury activated his Semblance and felt the surrounding atmosphere come under his control. His senses extended to the oncoming shells. Their trajectories mapped out in his mind’s eye.

Damn. Not a bad shot from fifteen-thousand plus kilometers away.

Just need to sharp it just a little…

Mercury adjusted the turbulence and atmospheric pressure to suit his needs. He played out the simulation in his head, and matched it to the present. Their “back-up” fire would land exactly where they wanted it to on the dime.

“Merc,” Emerald elbowed him a few more times. “Hate to interrupt your beautiful mind moment, but the big bad bug is coming up faster. Maybe, short the fuse on lighting this candle?”

“Sure, just gotta speed up the momentum on more than a thousand combustible Dust shells. No big deal.” The sarcasm exaggerated in his voice.

“I had to hallucinate a whole Kingdom. Don’t get cute with me about making the big plays.”

The crying flock of whistling missiles screamed across the sky ever closer. At the same time, the great shadows and winds kicked up by Behemoth brushed the team’s backs.

Despite being caught between an arsenal of hellfire and the largest Grimm ever recorded, ENMY showed no signs of panic. Once Mercury finished his modifications, he expelled a small sigh of relief.

“Nice,” Emerald smirked, while putting on the sunglasses she took from Coco so long ago. Yang, Neo, and Mercury were producing their own pairs, when she also took out her scroll. She then, held it out and struck a smug pose.

“Are you actually taking a selfie right now?” Yang asked in slack-jawed awe.

“I wanna send a picture to Cinder. It’ll also make a good memory.”

Without wait or permission, the rest of the team crammed into the camera shot. They made random faces, while throwing up a series of hand gestures and middle fingers.

Meanwhile, high-pitch whistling from the Fleet’s artillery was at the peak of its cries when they were suddenly muffled. Bellowing explosions cut the sound off with its own. Raining hellfire engulfed Behemoth’s back in clouds of inferno. It was a carpet bombing of a creature that could have been a small island onto itself.

“Sweet fireworks,” Yang grinned. “Did you get the shot?”

“Got it!” Emerald confirmed.

“I always wanted to help destroy something beautiful,” Mercury shed a single tear.

Neo threw her hands up, cheering with mute excitement.

Fire! Fire! Burn!

“Okay, okay,” Emerald called their attention. “I know that just made the inner pyros inside us cream, but we still got work to do.” She tapped her in-ear communicator. “You there, OG?”

“I’m here.”

Flying above the incinerating back of Behemoth, a black bird swooped down. Its feathers shed upon its descent, giving way to a human form. He aimed the landing of his dive before the intact form of Combine, Chief of the Cuckoo Grimm.

The parasitic bird gave a gross chirp, as it recognized its bodyguards were burned away by Penny’s fire bombing.

“This… really sucks!” Qrow complained.

Sweat dripped down his face. He could feel the life being siphoned from him, leaving his skin cold. If he didn’t possess the Old One’s longevity, he might have died instantly in Combine’s presence.

Azkaban was somewhere near, so Qrow couldn’t activate his Semblance to save himself. But if things went according to plan, he wouldn’t remain vulnerable for long.

…

“How much could I pay you not to save my brother?” Raven posed to Emerald via their telepathic link.

“Discount low five figures,” the quick answer came.

“That was a joke.”

“Was it, though~?”

From her cliffside in the Black Oasis, Raven gripped the hilt of her katana and went into a low iaido stance. Her senses attuned to the combination of Emerald and Neo’s information. There, she saw her brother’s back turned towards her.

“Now, don’t flinch, little brother.”

…

“Neo?” Emerald prompted.

The petite girl poised her estoc in a thrusting motion above her shoulder. A silver light gleamed in her irises. She made out the positions of three key figures: Combine, Qrow, and Azkaban, before sealing the sight into her blade.

Neo took a long-drawn breath, and then emptied her lungs of all its air. She concentrated a majority of her Aura into the ultimate technique she created herself, leaving just a little in reserve. It was the most powerful move in her arsenal, and she would only be able to perform it once for a long while.

The small swordswoman felt traces of Yang’s influence swell in her soul. A bright fire of her beloved’s sun licked heat on her fingertips.

Neo’s hand moved quicker than the naked eye could catch. The sounds of shattering glass only followed after the fact.

In the same moment, Raven freed her blade from its sheath. Her bloody double-slash was going to cut a blazing X across the sky and Qrow’s back. But at the very last second, the move collided with Neo’s.

It was a clash of ultimate sword techniques that resounded across the entire continent. A piercing blade of blinding, silver glass and a cross drawn by a sinisterly, crimson paintbrush cut the sky into pieces. The world itself seemed to tear briefly, like it was made of paper.

Raven’s attack was barely deflected enough from her brother’s back, and guided in the direction of Combine instead. Likewise, Neo’s thrust was diverted towards Azkaban. Both their blades struck their marks down, slaying the Nightmare Grimm with their god-like skill.

Hmph, Raven scoffed with an impressed thought.

Out of the four brats, she might be the one who grew the most in all this…

“Not that I’d tell her that.”

…

“Uncle Qrow!” Yang shouted.

“On it, kid!”

With Combine and Azkaban down, Qrow felt the burden on him lifted. He tapped into Titan’s ability, while harnessing his own Semblance. A pair of great scythes unfolded in each of his hands. A familiar green glow permeated from his body to envelope the burning Behemoth.

The Grimm’s flying motion slowed to a crawl. Time slurred in the space it occupied until the creature stopped just above the wall and Team ENMY. Wind, fire, poison, and intermingled with it, falling caterpillar Grimm froze midair.

Yang and Mercury stared up, before bumping their fists.

The Spring Maiden felt adrenaline rush her veins. A crystallized crown formed its halo around her head. Her eyes blazed with the fire of her Semblance. She watched lightning crack across her vision, outlining Behemoth’s multiple weaknesses caused by redundancies in its anatomy.

“Wouldn’t be easy if we could just strike one spot. We’re gonna have to hit them all.”

The pair rocketed into the sky.

Mercury and Qrow went to work first. The young man summoned a storm to carry him across the Grimm’s expansive mass. Every kick he delivered made the floating island shudder. Likewise, the veteran Huntsman used his Reaper’s Semblance to sow death from atop. Together, they layered a cacophony of craters and trenches into Behemoth’s exoskeleton.

And then, Yang rose to join them.

“Many search the meaning of the shape given to their soul,” she heard Nai’s words echo the depths of her mind.

“I am Poison.

I am a Weapon.

I have lived and learned to become the agent that destroys my enemies’ bodies.

What does your life embody?

What meaning does its shape give?”

Yang jumped from falling debris to falling debris, making her way to the belly of the beast.

For my friends, I’ll be their warmth.

When they are lost, I’ll be their light.

And for anyone who tries to hurt them,

I’ll be the banisher of their darkness.

Yang’s Ember Celica shifted its form. Pistons fired across her entire arm. It rumbled with all the power and force of a jet engine.

I am the Fight that Life brings.

I am Fire.

And I Burn.

The exact moment, the noon sun reached its highest crest, the Spring Maiden’s punch let loose a flame likened to the birth of a new star. A supernova erupted in the center of Behemoth’s stomach, scorching constellations across the vulnerabilities of its body.

The halting of time was no small feat, and Titan’s ability only lasted a breath before reality resumed. But it was enough for Behemoth’s annihilation to be realized.

“Alright! It’s gonna pop!” Emerald shouted. “Clear the area!”

Yang, Mercury, and Qrow escaped the burning wreckage’s vicinity, as the Grimm plummeted down. Its body decomposed into countless scales, which combusted on any contact. The repeated detonations and weight of its carcass drove a crag into the wall and a small part of the city.

…

Yang let herself freefall. Burning cartilage still flew around her. Much of her energy was spent, but not all of it, per Emerald’s orders. But there was no denying the weariness setting into her nerves.

“Well, that was a thing.”

She looked to the side, and saw Mercury speed down to Emerald. Their leader stood on what remained of the wall. Her Uncle was nowhere in sight.

*Sigh* “I really want this day to be over…”

Just then, among the falling scraps, Yang spotted an oddity. It was a little singed, but it stood out from everything else with its white-colored design and the way it spun sharply through the air.

Yang squinted her eyes, and saw it was a playing card.

The Ace of Spades.

.

X  X X  X  X

.

“Is this truly all the strength you can muster?”

Salem gave a wave of her hand, and the bright projectiles Glynda and Minerva cast her way dissolved into squirming maggots. As they writhed uselessly on the ground, the Witch made a claw with her hand. Her long nails thrusted in the direction of her opponents.

Suddenly, the sand beneath the sorcerers’ feet coiled like tentacles, pulling them into its embrace. Salem’s hand squeezed, and the prison of silt closed tighter.

“You’re spellcasting is rather rudimentary compared to what I’ve seen over the ages. But I suppose that is the folly of mortals. Not enough age to hone that wisdom, no matter the potential exhibited.”

“Then, perhaps another challenger is in order? One you can’t bully with your tricks.”

A crow flew down, before expanding its form into a man. He snapped his fingers once, and the “living sand” about to suffocate the sorcerers was dispelled.

Glynda blinked, not believing her eyes. The image of the man before her seemed to phase in and out of existence, as if their identity wasn’t solidified.

“Ozpin?”

“Apologies for the tardiness, Glynda,” the white-haired man with small glasses said. “There was an issue that required our assistance.”

“But, how…? What about Qrow?”

“Also, here,” the figure of Ozpin replied with a voice that was not his. “This body sharing thing is more complicated than it looks.”

The immortal’s body flickered between Ozpin’s visage and Qrow’s, and then another Glynda recognized as Beacon’s past Headmaster Myrddin’s. Reality bent, and several iterations blinked in quick succession. Some figures she remembered from historical texts, more of them she did not. The spinning of the forms continued until the image settled onto a small, hunched-back old man. He had the look of a retired farmer and had to use a cane to support him like a third leg.

“Titan…!” Salem snarled with rising furor.

“…Wicked,” the Old One spoke in a grounded tone. His voice was crass, but it dissipated into the surroundings like an earthquake. “Must we continue this vicious cycle?”

“Oh, it will not continue. Not for you.”

“So, it was inevitable. You and I must battle once more.”

“Immortal versus immortal,” the Witch gestured to herself, then Titan. A bloodthirsty Magic coursed her veins, making them pulse black across her pale skin.

“There can only be one.”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

Yang was in no position to react. The playing card spinning outside her reach was practically a calling card for her death. All she could do was leave her fate to another’s hands.

…

Fortunately, those hands were the ones she trusted the most with her life.

The sound of shattering glass scattered pieces of Neo’s mirror portal into the falling sky. Her sword was held, outstretched. Its point pierced through the card as a bullet punched a hole through the same middle.

It should have been a perfect killshot. Yang and Neo read the trajectory, and it would’ve drilled right through Yang’s forehead, but Neo’s interference skewed its course.

“Shit!”

Yang whipped her neck as fast as she could, just in time for the bullet to tear a chunk of her hair off along with part of her right ear. Blood stained her cheek and a sharp ringing noise penetrated her eardrum.

“Hey, you. Can you hear me?” Emerald’s voice came from her comms, as Yang could see her leader smirking in the distance. She flipped her the middle finger.

“Told you she’d try.”

“Really, Em?! Now?!”

“Hey, you were the one who wanted to do this, despite my fair and wise warnings.”

“Can we save the ‘I told you so’s for later?”

“Say hi to her for me,” Emerald waved.

“WILL FREAKIN’ DO!!!”

Yang flashed an angry glare to Neo, who gave her a quick nod.

A second later, and her partner conjured a mirror for her to drop into. The portal pushed her into another, and then another, and so on. Each segment accelerated her into the distance.

Yang didn’t aim her fist. She knew Neo would do that for her. All she had to do was swing when the time came.

And at the last shuttle interval, she threw her fist.

Yang’s landing struck the terrain like a miniature meteorite. The target and source of her bullet wound was knocked off her feet, and onto her back. The shooter could have put up resistance, but the looming Spring Maiden erased any thought of that.

Instead, Inna Kao simply smiled.

“Hey, Yang.” She tipped her hat, still on the ground.

“Hey, Inna. Long time no see,” Yang replied unenthusiastically. “Em says, hi.”

“Oh? Tell her I said hi back.”

Yang did a quick sweep of her surroundings.

“No Bean?”

“Nah. I wanted to take my shot away from him just in case. Guess I made the right call on that.”

“Too bad. I wanted to see him.”

Inna stared at Yang for a while, before tilting her hat down.

“Heh… Well, you got me good. Don’t tell me ya’ll fixed that trap for lil ‘ol me?”

“It was Emerald’s idea. We’ve been ready ever since we heard you and Bean were around. We know we can’t underestimate you.”

“Shucks, Yang. Now, yer just makin’ me blush.”

Yang stared long and hard at the cowgirl.

“……I heard about your team. Sorry.”

“Yeah, well. I’ll be joinin’ them soon.”

“Funny thought that.”

Yang grabbed Inna’s rifle laying on the ground, and snapped it in half across her knee. It pained her a little to destroy someone’s personal weapon, but the bad feeling disappeared when she remembered she was missing part of her ear because of Inna. The gun would be repaired eventually. As far as she was concerned, they were even.

“Nothing to worry about if you don’t have your rifle,” Yang tossed the remains at Inna’s feet. “I’m done killing people, especially people I like.”

“…I can’t stop coming for you, Yang.”

“Yeah, you can. All you have to do is stop,” Yang shrugged. “But if you really want to keep trying, go ahead. I’ll be ready.”

“Hm hm! Told you, you’d be sorry, Inna,” Raven chuckled, as she stepped through her portal.

“Mom. Why am I not surprised you’re here?”

“Your little girlfriend actually matched my favorite move.”

“She’s a keeper.”

“I guess.”

“I’m totally telling her you approve.”

“I don’t. And another thing—”

Just then, Raven and Yang’s heads were flooded with an amalgam of information. Rather information, they were a bit like actual memories, but of events that had yet to occur. It was disorienting to say the least, but one thing was clear.

“Hey! Did you get that?!” Raven asked Yang.

“Yeah. What the hell was that, Em?”

“It’s the visions the Rakis siblings have been seeing. Don’t know why, but Knives was suddenly in a sharing mood. But after seeing what was in them, I think we can make a guess!”

“That vision…Temujin…!”

“That’s why you and Raven should get your asses back here on the double!”

“Mom!” Yang turned to Raven, and saw fear there like she never had before.

“Let’s go.”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

“Hm. They brought down Behemoth,” Temujin rubbed her chin with an even composure.

The throne room, which was once a bustling war room, was now vacant. The lone ruler of Vacuo sat on her chair with only the Rakis siblings for company.

“Any deviations?”

“With almost all our fortifications intact, more of Vacuo’s citizens will survive by the end,” Mouse answered.

“Haha… They are truly something. Troublemakers. The perfect enemy against Salem and fate.”

The old woman smiled ear to ear, before breathing a contented sigh.

“Everything else is proceeding according to script?”

“……Yes.”

A nearby monitor showed an endless replay of Team ENMY’s assault on Behemoth. Right before the artillery from the Atlesian Fleet struck, a wisp of dark mist engulfed Camlann, and seemingly warped it out of the area.

On a security monitor, three figures made their way through the Hanging Gardens. The colossal armor of Camlann was recognized. Beside the Grimm were Adam and Blake. It wouldn’t be long until they reached the chamber.

“You two should go,” Temujin said to the siblings.

“No,” Mouse refused shakily. “We won’t leave you.”

“You have to guide our people.”

“We won’t leave you!”

The boy now had tears streaming his eyes. He wanted with everything to overturn the future he and his sister saw. A future where the Grimm overran their land. A future where their closest friends died…

…A future where Temujin offered her life to further incite the rage of her people.

“Oh,” the old Faunus put a hand on Mouse’s head. “You know, I faced a lot of criticism for adding that Eye for an Eye thing at the end of the Code. Mostly from Minerva, but whatever.” she smirked. “Who knew it would be the strength our people needed in their weakest hour? Surely, not me.”

Gentle sobs continued to escape Mouse, as Temujin continued.

“No, definitely not me… But if the death of one old woman past her prime can be the rally cry of our Kingdom, I will answer my duty with a full heart.”

“…”

“Go. My time is over.” Temujin announced proudly. “This is goodbye.”

“We won’t leave you!!!” Mouse cried back.

Temujin scratched her ear in frustration, before turning to her other side.

“Knives. I entrust you with your brother. You know what must be done. The both of you must regroup with Nai and Minerva. Notify them of my death. The first waves of the Grimm should be dealt with by then. Fall back here with Team ENMY, and eliminate Camlann. Hold the siege until Atlas’ Fleet arrives.”

The younger Rakis made no move to respond.

“Knives? Did you hear me?! Knives!”

Temujin shook her shoulder, and saw the girl’s expression turn with surprise.

“Oh, right!” Knives answered with wide eyes. Her tone was different from her usual. “Actually, I agree with Mouse there. You really shouldn’t be so quick to sacrifice yourself.”

The elder Faunus was struck speechless.

“There’s a lot of people who would mourn your death, Temujin. They’d be heartbroken,” the girl continued. “I know one person especially!”

“Who…?” the old Faunus could only mutter. “Who are you?”

The girl with the appearance of Knives could only smile brightly.

“There’s always a way to change fate, as well as those who are willing to fight it. You said it yourself.”

“…”

“But they can’t help you if you don’t believe in it too,” Knives held Temujin’s hand in both of hers. “This girl loves you so much. She begged for a way to save you, even in her dreams. That’s how deep her resolve is.”

Temujin continued to stare blankly at the girl. Knives met her gaze, unabashed. The young girl’s eyes seemed to glint with a brighter silver than usual.

Then, Temujin remembered where she heard this speech mannerism before, as well as this unflinching determination.

“Summer Rose?”

[bella-gunn]

🤔 valid strategy 😂👍🏼

Also, even better if you are so sleep deprived you think you are hallucinating the little dog that is talking to you.

But no, he's a real actual demon, and you don't realize that until miraculously, your academic advisor decides you should start taking regular naps in their office hammock (mmmmmmm comfy).

So you finally catch up on sleep and feel less like your brain is pouring out your ears then realize the little dog is now telling you what to do all the time and you. Just. Can't. Say. No.

This would make an excellent self inset fic XD

"You are in your last year of grad school studying [your major] and the schedule has been particularly grueling. You have been awake for three days and find yourself sitting on a bench out side the [your major] building in a state of mental and emotional crisis.

You have put a lot of time, energy, and money into your degree but lately you are having trouble remembering why you even cared about [your major] in the first place. The only thing keeping you going is the spectre of your student loan debt lurking around the corner.

You make a sound somewhere between a hiccup and a quiet scream in frustration, after all it's late and you don't want to disturb anyone who may still be working in the [your major] building with the physical manifestation of your imminent mental breakdown.

A small white dog enters your field of vision, it's coat gleaming eerily in the dim light from the [your major] building. The sound of metal clinking merrily offsets the creeping dread that washes through you.

Normally that would be a sign that something is wrong but you have been feeling that sensation of impending doom for the better part of four months now and honestly you are just tired.

"Hey little doggo!" You hold out your hand for the dog to sniff but it ignores your gesture. It looks so serious and so very much like a little posh ivy league professor with it's cute little ascot and pin, that you find yourself asking somewhat hysterically "Do you have any tips for academic success?"

You don't know what you expected but a calm cultured voice saying "Have you considered a deal with the devil?" was somehow not it.

You recoiled in shock but paused as your curiosity always won out over your better common sense, after all, that's why you went into [your major] in the first place. You remembered everytime where you prayed to Jesus, God, Satan, anyone really, to intercede on your behalf and mentally shrugged.

"Well yeah, I mean not the devil exclusively, but I'm a [your major] student and I will take any help I can get."

The little dog looked pleased with himself for some unfathomable reason.

"Excellent, I can work with that."

[it-stops]

Architecture in Weird Fiction

Edgar Allan Poe’s Fall of the House of Usher and H.P. Lovecraft’s The Call of Cthulhu

While good Weird Fiction tends to leave more things unsaid than said, good stories still require some semblance of a setting, implied or otherwise. One of the best ways to describe a place is to describe its architecture, and Weird Fiction has two types of architecture it likes most – Gothic and Cyclopean.

Gothic architecture grew and developed alongside the Gothic artistic movement in the 12th century as a reaction against the heaviness and stoicism of Romanesque architecture. Despite its innovations in bringing light and air into buildings, it has this aesthetic of an imposing, all-seeing monster – the Catholic church looming above you and judging your actions. The ceilings vaulted to lift your gaze to the heavens and look the cosmos in the face, the flying buttresses sticking out like so many spider legs, the pointed rooftops like stakes on which to impale the gods, and completely encrusted in relief sculpture warning you of your imminent doom unless you repent, repent, repent.

During the Protestant Reformation, many Gothic buildings were plundered and left to ruin. This gave them a social association with decay and the fall of Europe’s nobility. Gothic Fiction writers, years later, use that association to write about supernatural events occurring in enclosed spaces, like castles and crypts. This is where we get stories like Bram Stoker’s Dracula and Edgar Allan Poe’s Fall of the House of Usher. Fall of the House of Usher shows this descent into the dark recesses of the human mind as we watch the narrator enter this house of claustrophobic dread and become infected with Roderick’s own mental state. The house itself is mostly intact, asides from the long fissure that runs from foundation to rooftop (which would later break open entirely with the collapse of the building, symbolizing the end of the Usher family line and the disintegration of nobility). Poe describes the house in vague detail:

“I looked upon the scene before me — upon the mere house, and the simple landscape features of the domain — upon the bleak walls — upon the vacant eye-like windows — upon a few rank sedges — and upon a few white trunks of decayed trees…”

He also mentions that none of the masonry has fallen (though individual bricks have crumbled) and there is a sort of fungus growing over the whole building. This description of decay, but with the building still clinging to life with all its might, is a parallel to Rodrick’s sister, Lady Madeline. Diseased, decaying, but still living in the final scene. One interpretation of the story is that she is a vampire, which would be an excellent comparison to the “living dead” nature of the house (and would also explain why the narrator knew nothing of this twin sister, despite being Roderick’s “only personal friend”). Poe’s tale is an interesting one as we get a glimpse of the deep horror that intrigued and inspired H.P. Lovecraft years later.

Cyclopean architecture is a style of masonry found in Mycenean structures which consists of rough-hewn slabs of stone stacked on top of one another without the use of mortar. The name comes from classical myths about the Cyclopes – a race of one-eyed giants who would have had the strength and size to build these structures. One of the best examples of a cyclopean building was an unrealized design for a Cenotaph for Sir Isaac Newton by Etienne-Louis Boulleé.

It was an enormous dome with small perforations in the ceiling and a giant lantern hung from the apex. By day, light would shine through the perforations to simulate the night sky, and by night, the lantern would be lit up to simulate the sun (these representing his contributions to astronomy and astrophysics). While it was never built, illustrations of its proposal show scale figures which emphasize how small and insignificant a person would feel next to this monument.

The feeling invoked by Boulleé’s Cenotaph is similar to the fear that H.P. Lovecraft seeks to elicit from his own audience. Lovecraft has this obsession with horror immersed in a deep time and has a tendency to circle around the object of the horror without allowing us to fully look upon it. As such, he likes to leave as much as possible unsaid to allow the reader to fill in each horrific blank. But in the case of The Call of Cthulhu, he gives loving description to the setting and architecture. When describing the city of R’lyeh the narrator mentions awe at the “unbelievable size of the greenish stone blocks, at the dizzying height of the great carven monolith, and at the stupefying identity of the colossal statues and bas-reliefs,” and frequently references Cyclopean architecture and things that couldn’t have possibly been made by human hands. These implications elevate the Weird in his tales by emphasizing the insignificance of humanity in an uncaring universe.

[succubused]

like ignore this or read it it’s just long so i’m putting it beneath a cut

world building stuff about eidolons and shit

Phantasm:

Sharp, charming, and easily the most manipulative of the eidolons, phantasms are known for their deal-with-the-devil tactics and manipulation of nightmares. They draw on all fear, but they work most efficiently through dreams, entering nightmares and shaping them to fit the worst fears of the dreamer. They can cause anything to take place in a dream, as long as the dreamer is afraid of it.

Phantasms are able to kill a dreamer with fear in-dream, creating the terminal condition known as the Affliction and releasing a burst of panic that gives the eidolon themselves a highly addictive rush.

Though they, like all eidolons, are essentially slaves to their thirst for fear, some phantasms have expressed regret for the necessity of their actions and they are the most likely of the three to commit suicide rather than continue causing pain. Conversely, others among them are ruthless and enjoy inflicting suffering on humans, who they view as little more than livestock.

They are slightly taller on average than humans, with the average height for a female clocking at around 5 foot 8 and the average height for a male at 6 foot 2. Facial markers include every hair on their bodies being white, black sclera and irises, and antlers that are often carved with designs or words. They are also the only winged eidolon, with three sets of wings that operate in conjunction. Some phantasms suffer from a condition that causes their wings to sync with one another incorrectly, thus making flight nearly impossible.

Unlike the other eidolons, phantasms are capable of lying; however, they can only do so within a dream. They can also create hallucinations, or waking dreams, though doing so requires much more effort than in-dream constructs.

Valkyrie is a half-blood, born to the phantasm Paroxys and the human Nadia. Nadia died in childbirth. Paroxys lives, and is a highly illustrative example of a phantasm who regrets causing pain. Ever since Valkyrie was conceived Paroxys has devoted himself to finding a way to cure the Affliction, and blames himself for not being fast enough to save her mother.

Frenzy:

Frenzies are masters of controlled chaos, able to cause mass panic in crowds and turn people into berserkers, humans who have been driven permanently insane by a frenzy and will kill anything they see in a blind panic. There is no reversal possible. They thrive on horror and are fast about it; if a human was already frightened, they can shift them to a berserker in a matter of moments. A calm or prepared human exhibits more of a challenge, but is by no means a definite roadblock.

Bloodthirsty and cunning, frenzies are incredibly quick-witted due to their rapid thought processes. They become filled with uncontrollable bloodlust and rage once they begin feeding on panic, and will continue to create berserkers until they drop from fatigue.

They are lithe, flexible, fast-moving, and adept climbers. Facial markers include dark hair, crimson eyes with vertical pupils, and curved horns that are often quite beautiful. They have long, sharp, retractable claws, and often exhibit a movement pattern that is more feline than bipedal.

Unlike phantasms, it is far less common for a frenzy to become regretful. Frenzies get “high” off of every kill, not only those performed in dreams as phantasms do, and thus are severely addicted when it comes to fear.

It is possible for a frenzy to abstain from a fear-kill for long enough to “kick” the addiction, although most of the few that have attempted have been killed by withdrawal in the process. An exception to this is Kharis, who has not performed a fear-kill in over one hundred years, and fights primarily through dream-breaking and dagger-wielding. His insistence on maintaining his facade at all times is fueled by his own determination not to fall back into the bloodlust that distinguishes his kind.

If Kharis is an illustration of what a frenzy is like without said bloodlust, the difference is stunning, as Kharis is highly empathetic, funny, and fiercely loyal. His sense of humor is the only link visible on the surface between his personality and those of his brethren; though frenzies do not laugh often, when they do, it is a beautiful sound, almost hypnotic.

Dread:

Dreads are arguably the most powerful eidolons. There is very little common knowledge about them, as they are much more rare than phantasms and frenzies. Antithetical to frenzies in many ways, they are generally calm and soft-spoken, with deep, sonorous voices. Dreads have several unique abilities, including speaking directly into a target’s head, and turning humans into thralls. The thrall of a dread experiences a severe feeling of impending doom that starts as minor anxiety and slowly builds up over time until the victim is completely incapacitated and dies of terror. The build times vary, and can be anywhere from several hours, to several days, to weeks, and in extreme cases even months or years, depending on the dread’s preference.

Little-known among humans is the uncommon but still worth noting dread tactic of death avoidance, practiced by those among the dreads who have developed a high level of empathy for their victims. Though they often cannot control their abilities, they will invoke an extremely extended thrall period in the hopes that they will be killed before it comes to completion.

The fear dreads inspire is the most intense and debilitating of the three classes. Their mere presence is enough to cause painful terror, and if pushed, they can easily cause cardiac arrest in weaker subjects. They will usually stand very still, preferring to immobilize their targets first, before moving with lightning speed to the human’s side and killing them quickly. Some dreads will snap a human’s neck, others will use a concentrated burst of fear. They are, additionally, nearly as proficient in dream-breaking as phantasms. Dreads are formidable warriors, though they generally prefer their powerful fear abilities to hand-to-hand combat.

Though they draw on all fear, most effective for them is the feeling of hopelessness that comes with the knowledge of imminent doom that emanates from the dying. Dreads who wish to avoid confrontation can occasionally be found near hospitals or homes of the terminally ill.

Dreads are, of course, blind. They practice echolocation, and the scream they use to do so serves a dual purpose, as it paralyzes all those who hear it. They also possess unusually sharp and long canine teeth. These are usually kept concealed, but can be used in combat.

They have six eyes, with two sets above the main eyes; all three sets of eyes are a milky gray. All are unseeing and blind. Their lower set of eyelashes are much longer than the upper, and their mark is more complex than that of the other eidolons; potentially as a function of their increased power. It’s common for dreads to have gray or pale blond hair, though they can also be redheads or black-haired.  They are quite tall, regularly reaching seven feet in height, and rarely have a full height of below six feet.

Avares, a dread who later “recovered” and thus revealed the nature of their condition, is unique among her kind. She gained sight after lifting the fear from a dying man, simultaneously using it to buff her own strength and to ease his passing so that he died without pain or terror. Her eyes cleared and revealed lilac-colored irises with horizontal pupils like those of a goat. She later expressed regret for the deaths she had caused over the course of her life. A woman of few words, Avares nonetheless has always possessed a keen sense of honor and a vengeful spirit, and thereafter devoted herself to avenging her kind in addition to awakening the other dreads to their true nature.