Source of Asperity

[Boethiah]

[Exhale]

The cave was just ahead... Her footsteps trembled forward as the growing darkness began to take hold of her mind; it felt surreal. This was the source of it all? The reason why the Gulandi Sephi were the way they are.

Inside the cave was known by the Gulandi as the 'Source of Asperity', it drew the world into a chaotic state of madness and lead the Sephi who immigrated there to eventually slaughter each other, leaving on the strongest alive. Her steps continued to feel heavier until at last she entered the dimly lit entrance and the moment she turned around it happened. All the light had disappeared, as if she was miles inside the cave and the entrance days back. There were few sounds, the occasional ripping of moisture but no sound of moths or insects. It seemed that nothing made its home here. No life: Except her.

Slowly the darkness began to grow deeper leaving her nearly blinded; even her Umbaran eyes were drifting slowly into its shadow. Then she hard it.

[Snap]

The unmistakable sound of something crunching under the weight of movement. It was a controlled maneuver, there was no follow up as there would be if something fell or collapsed. A subtle breath escaped the source and drifted across her shoulder, the gasses tickled her neck before stinging it like dry ice. She tried to turn but her movements became to lock, her muscles turned sore and her feet sunk slowly, then her knees, something was pulling her into the floor below and then it stopped.

Anja's heart raced, thump, thump, thump, the heart would beat faster each time splitting the seconds in thrice. Her cheeks grew warm as the blood rushed lower from her head, she felt dizzy and exhausted. The source of the breath grew closer, she could feel it even though not a sound -- not a whisper -- went to her ears as if she was becoming deaf. Whoever, whatever was there made itself unknown; there was no hint to its being or purpose. The silence broke in a quick grunt like one that would escape a beast startled in excitement when tracking sudden movement.

"What are you?", she asked. Her voice was shaky but slowly collected itself on the syllables as she tried to put up some composure. Even as her primal instincts began to take hold, her own sense of pride remained; she wouldn't be taken a fool by the source of this trickery. Even then she wasn't certain it was trickery -- it could of been magic, the force that she had begun to familiarize her in recent times. It was power she still had much to learn of and one she saw could achieve great and terrible things. The Sith, her allies, worshiped its property like they would the grace of an audacious conqueror; feeding off of its power as their source of strength. She had not felt that way about it. To her it was not alive, it was not above her, it was merely a tool that she wielded. Unliving.

Only a few seconds of no response went by before a soft voice, soft yet surprisingly low and powerful, broke through a brief crackle like air escaping a dry throat.

"What are you?", it responded in mimic of her own question. The thought struck her odd at first, but then it wore on her patience and began to sink into her mind. The voice itself wasn't the problem. There was something about the way it was said, the way it drifted into her ears; the words became lost like she was in this cave. Her thinking felt real and loud until the source of the voice spoke once more. "Can you not feel it?", and almost immediately it became clear to her. Suddenly she looked around and found herself standing in what seemed to be the stomach of some large creature; gasses and mucus excreted from pores in the walls and swiftly sunk her before a large opening at her feet unclasped. She fell into it with a sudden strike shooting up her stomach and to her heart. It was like waking from a dream, as soon as it happened she tripped forward and back into the darkness.

Something was obviously quite wrong. Was it an illusion, a vision, or was she going mad? The questions stirred crazily in her thoughts and with each new one the old disappeared; her memories too. She nearly forgotten about why she had came in the first place. To help herself think she began to speak aloud.

"I'm here to find the Source of Asperity , the source of darkness on Gulamendis.", her tongue procured soft words that touched the humid cold air. Her eyes were weeping but dry when she went to wipe them. For many years Anja, The Host Lord, has never felt such emotions raised inside her. As if her own heart and thoughts were replaced with that of a young child missing home. She did miss her upbringing, before it all started, before she was forced to kill the only person she had connected with. A duel that sealed her fate. How could she have been proud of the moment? Then again he tried to kill her too. But that hesitation, his eyes exclaiming his wish not to, that edge that allowed her to pierce the blade slowly and sickly through his chest and into the ground as he collapsed and the metal stuck through. Why was she even thinking of this? Her own mind -- part of her -- began to betray her own past and tell her she was wrong.

"You killed love itself, how ironic to call yourself humble before a God only to kill its creations.", that was the straw. A bitter rage built up inside her chest and escaped her tongue.

"You are nothing! Nothing before me. I am the Host Lord, Harbinger of Nogras, the Fifteenth Prophet and Master of the Bleeding Sun. How dare you!? How dare you pretend to know my past and use it against me. I own my thoughts, they are mine!", she reached for her vibroblade in a shout and swung swiftly around her like a whirlwind to see if she could hit anything. If there was a chance she could end the pain and return to her old self. This was a fury she had neither known nor bear at any point previous; something inside her escaped like a caged animal starved.

A sinister chuckle drew away once again as earlier the sights came back to her. It was still dark but Anja could see enough. A robed figure stood only two meters in front of her, holding a weapon that looked similar to the one the Jedi carried during the rescue mission on her ship. "Who are you?", she asked whilst gripping her blade cautiously in a Juyo stance. The figure did not respond audibly but instead ignited a red energetic blade, it hummed uninterrupted and blurred outwards towards her. As Anja tried to raise her blade in defense she felt a sharp piercing pain in her right arm. Looking down she saw her own arm removed with precision in all its gore collapse to the floor below. Her neck tilted, her head turned, and her eyes rolled in the direction of the attacker to which point the blade came to her throat. In the instant she would've died she 'awoke' again. Once more she was stumbling, lost in the darkness.

She had enough. She wished no more part in this 'game' or whatever it was. Collapsing to her knees the Host Lord began to meditate on the darkness around her, finally she realized what she felt. It was that very power inside her. The magic, the force, the thing she wielded unilivingly but this time it was far more than alive; it was destroying her sense of reality.

"Oh? So you finally see!", the voice grew more familiar but it was neither masculine nor feminine. It seemed neutral in all its ways and echoed over itself.

"See what?", she asked as if this entity was now part of her social life; a life she neither had nor willed.

"You don't see entirely.", the voice became more enigmatic and broke out like a loud whisper. Anja's meditation was not broken yet by the conversation. If the source was speaking she did not hear it. At first she no longer heard anything again but not as before; it wasn't silent. It was just... Tranquil, peaceful, and it enabled her to think more clearly than ever before and suddenly there was light. She could see what was around her. A vast open cavern but then something startling. She noticed there was a rather straight tunnel back to the entrance; although she did not remember herself walking through at all. Somehow she had been moving on her own this whole time. Her eyes opened as she took a stand, the darkness returned and blinded her but she wished to investigate further.

Her lip curled up in a sly smirk, "You cannot fool me anymore, fiend. I may not see but I am not blind; you cannot test my faith.", her voice was finally reassured in her own ability and she took a few blind steps forward with her arms out. Each step echoed throughout the chamber as she looked into her memory to pick up images of the room she was in. Of course it wasn't perfect, she tripped now and again; braced herself on walls and formations. Finally she felt a curve into a narrower path. This path she did not know where it lead but that no longer mattered. There was something at play here and she would find it.

Anja trekked further, slowly, but surely and perhaps an hour had passed until she noticed the trail ended. Almost falling into what seemed to be a pit the Host Lord clung to the edge and pulled herself back up. Her heart raced as it did earlier, her fears coming to her. She did not feel death quite naturally but this time she feared an end. To be undiscovered and alone.

"See to it that you don't fall.", the voice seemed to reappear despite that she did not sense its following. "You again?", she was rhetorical in her asking and less concerned. For now it seemed whoever was speaking could only harm her with bad thoughts, not physical actions but she was indeed in danger. As she turned around to walk back she nearly made the same mistake. On all sides. The walls around her seemed to have disappeared like she was now standing on a pedestal. It began to shrink and each time she backed up she nearly fell again until whatever surface she had under her disappeared. She couldn't scream, her voice choked and she felt her stomach go light as she fell. In the last moments she felt an inevitable end and closed her eyes only to once again awaken outside of harms way.

"Why keep up the same thing? It has no affect on me...", she said curiously. She did lie, however, although she felt no permanent damages there was still the fear. She could no longer be certain of what was real or otherwise. It seemed that her question was not a smart one; the voice became angry at the quip.

"Do not pretend that you are strong. You're weak! An absolutely disgusting cretin whom calls herself worthy!", the voice slaughtered her with the words in an irritable passion and rose from a masculine to a feminine voice. It began to make her wonder about its nature. It seemed clear enough that there was no such creature on the planet capable of changing its voice. The Sephi may have been able to wield illusions through the force but none she had heard of were nearly that powerful and besides, they owed their loyalty to her... At least she assumed.

The sound of moisture dripping began again. Chills and nibbles from the cold returned; reality was back.

"Show yourself...", her demand was said cautiously as to trap them into coming out so that she may strike them down.

There was no response. Her lips formed a slight quivering frown and she continued to walk into the unknown...

 

[Boethiah]

Anja continued on for what seemed to be days. She traveled endlessly through the maze-like caverns but never once found herself hungry, thirsty, or wanting; this lead her to believe that it was once again trickery. Something to drive her mad and indeed she was beginning to feel mad. She took her frustration out on the walls which dismantled with ease -- seemingly -- at the swiftness of her punches. The motions exhausted her, physically, which meant she seemed to be in control of her functions but whether she was actually moving throughout the cave was unknown to her wits.

The voice that had stalked her disappeared back into the nothingness, an invisible entity that seemed to be dictating her every step and judging her every action. Whoever, whatever this entity was had done nothing but entrap her in situations that were meant to be dire. Death, falling, and now insanity. What next? Was this a trial or test by her Gods? Why did the Gulandi never speak of these things... She nearly forgot what they even told her, but yes. She remembered now.

Earlier...

The Host Lord sat in her chambers on Gulamendis, a quarter given to her by Ozuvyn -- The High King -- as a symbol of respect to her newfound authority amongst his people.

Knock, knock.

"What?", she asked loud enough for whoever was behind the door to hear. One of her officers, a young Umbaran man, poked his head in the unscientific door. It was made of a rocky material that resembled what these people had for wood. The officer took a few steps in once he was comfortable enough with the intrusion, "My apology, Your Worship.", he said before bowing respectfully in her presence. The soles of his armoured boots clanked as he walked towards the chair she was in before going low on one knee and bowing his back and head in further respect. Anja's eyes wandered to his presence and away from a data record that she had been reading, specifically about the Source of Asperity. "You may speak.", she said to him.

The officer rose but remained on his knee so that she did not feel he was trying to stand over her. "We've prepared a party to guide you to this cave.", there was some worry in his voice but none that concerned her. The Host Lord simply nodded and thought for a moment. "Good.", she responded as a means to an end of the conversation. She went back to her data before glancing over the words and towards the officer who seemed to have not budged, he was hesitant. "What?", she asked; this time more impatiently. The officer trembled slightly at her tone of voice. "I--I'm*Swallow* I'm just concerned; can we trust them ?", he asked. Even still plenty of her officers did not trust the Gulandi. They were considerably barbaric in their ways and although their beliefs now aligned with her own it seemed that this was not enough. Of course The Primeval, the true Primeval, Umbarans who were exiled into the fringes had not encountered many other races and felt themselves superior and chosen. She didn't disagree with the belief but neither did she see the Gulandi as ones to be concerned with. They've proven themselves a clever and loyal ally thus far so why would they stop now? At least that's what she thought to herself. "You have no right to be concerned with my matters. I am not to be second-guessed, unless you wish me to enact the third doctrine on you.", she threatened him with a fate worse than death. To be mutilated and renamed in mockery of his crimes then forced to serve as a slave in whatever ways she befitted. He wouldn't be the first but only one ever regained her trust, Salacious Vile, and he was quite the exception and now lead the tortures that would be performed on him if that became the case.

The officer shook his head in fearful protest. "Of course not! I would not question you, Your Worship.", he said whilst still kneeling before her. "Then leave.", she ordered him in response. The officer rose from his place and marched tally through the entrance he came in, shutting it gently from behind. Anja let out light exhale through her noise as to release some pressure from the event. She had been told of this source of darkness on Gulamendis and requested Gulandi Elders to guide her to its location.

Approaching the party and followed by guards was Anja, now ready to journey forth to the cave.

One of the Gulandi approached and bowed quickly before turning back to the party but his voice was directed to her. "What do you think, Host Lord?", he asked in a raspy voice. Anja looked to them and then back to him but his eyes wouldn't have noticed her own. "I don't see you armed.", she queried in response. The Gulandi man let out a loud bellowing laugh at her remark. "We will not be going in with you.", he spoke quickly as if there was no issue to be had. Indeed there truly wasn't but she found it a bit odd; how would she navigate it if she knew so little of the location. "Why not?", she demanded the information from him. The Gulandi turned to face her this time. "You will find out inside. Just know that few of our people venture in there for a reason but I trust you'll be fine.", he said quite confidently to the claim. A claim that she boldly felt was a fact written in stone.

The party finally took a move on and proceeded into the depths of Gulamendis' spiraling city and down into the pits of its underworld, a place filled with the foul odor of rotting corpses and the perverse screams of a soul being murdered. The noise and smells slowly disappeared as they delved deeper, the signs of craftwork and carved structure faded into the stone as it now became mostly natural formations and then suddenly a large gap extended in front of them and to it was an entrance into a dark cave. The Sephi and their followers stopped. "Inside: That is where the source lies.", he told her. The Sephi with him had no intention of following but her guards did, albeit hesitantly, to which she turned around. "Stay here.", she ordered and spoke in a tone that told them not to protest. Her guards simply obeyed the order. She walked towards the cave...

The present...

Her breath was exhausted of its energy and she could not trek further. The physical toll was great, and it seemed weeks have passed at this point. Then the maze around her collapsed into the far more (now) familiar darkness that shadowed her previous times. "Sleep. You want to, and you need it.", the voice returned with a caring tone. As it said so she felt sleepy and comfortable, as if all she needed was to give into the simple suggestion. As she was about to lay down, her muscles relaxed, she tensed back up and furiously protested, "No! You cannot tempt me.", her hands and knees were all that held her from the ground at this point. Slowly she returned upright and continued through the darkness.

 

[Boethiah]

Everything was becoming familiar. She no longer felt unused to the darkness, she welcomed it like she was born in it. She felt attuned with its eerie nature and the weight it put on her shoulders now made her feel light as a feather. Her feet quickly moved about, navigating the zig-zaging paths and narrow caverns with a sense of ease about it. In some ways it was easy, she did not see anymore, she simply felt part of the cave itself. The voice that had haunted her had not spoken for some time. This sense of comfort made her optimistic, a feeling she lacked severely in the earlier encounters.

"Finally!", she exclaimed.

Anja had entered a chambered filled with strange lights, glowing crystals dotted the walls and ceiling, a steep pit stood before her -- it was quite large -- and a narrow pathway bridged across it to the other side where an obviously manmade structure stuck into the wall as a doorway. Little did she know this was where her trials truly began. As she walked towards the bridge a shape appeared, it was quite ethereal and took the shape of a humanoid.

"Are you the master?", the soft male voice asked. Anja was initially taken aback from this; confused as to its meaning. "The--Master?", she asked for him to enlighten. The entity remained absolutely still and the crystals around her dimmed quite slightly but a sudden surge of dark-side energy filled her, collapsing her to one knee as if it was forced. The spirit of sorts warped back a few meters and into the center of the bridge. Its voice began to echo in the chamber. "Only the master may cross this path, Anja Aj'Rou.", how did it know her name? This startled Anja greatly and her hand twitched, she hopped back onto her feet and took a defensive stance with her vibroblade. "Are you the one who's been tricking me?", the insecurity in her voice was quite clearly distinguished from how she asked earlier. The Ethereal being then warped right in front of her. She swung at it but her blade simply glided through the air and the shape disappeared but the voice continued to speak. "Physical weapons do you no good here.", it echoed at her in retort to her actions. As she looked to her blade it began to wither and disintegrate to the hilt which she proceeded to drop in shock. "Why!?", she protested. What she meant to ask was how , what manner of powers existed here. She did not even conceptualize the fact that she had no blade to begin with; she walked in unarmed.

The voice of the spirit did not return to her ears. Hesitant at first, Anja began to walk across the bridge slowly. Typically, the path behind her slowly decayed; she could hear it and did not bother to look back. Sprinting for the end she dove out and did a duck roll as she landed on the other side and looked back to a bridge that was still quite intact. "What did you do that for?", the voice came. In front of her -- as she turned -- was a familiar being, it was Pyrrhus Alet, the former captain of her starship. "You're dead.", she stated rather plainly with no detonation to caring that he had died n the first place. "I am, but so are you. Can't you tell? This is the afterlife our 'Gods' promised for us... You were unworthy.", the last bit of his words echoed inside her head. She was a Harbinger, they were the most worthy of all. She was a prophet, sent to find her deities and revive their presence in the galaxy so that they may be raptured into the undying lands. "I am not going to continue this madness!", the rage boiled and she reached out with the force to grab at his throat, the crushing power forced the illusion to grab hold of its neck in a rather futile manner. The vision of Alet faded as he began to collapse in 'death'. She sighed in relief, brushing herself off before continuing forward with two steps. Loud laughter began to cross her path, a voice she had heard before. "He died for you and this is how you repay him? By murdering him?", the sinister entity spoke it out like a cruel joke and reminder.

Anja ignored the voice and continued on her path.

 

[Boethiah]

The path opened up into a far larger cavern, faint light dimly lit the walls due to glowing crystals. A few manmade artifacts decayed along the walls, pillars, altars, and other structures. Anja exhaled deeply to calm herself; it couldn't have been that long. She felt like she was in there forever but again she wasn't feeling very hungry or thirsty, one of the few facts that allowed her distinguish the falsities around her. There were fewer and fewer paths to take as the caverns winded on creating crossroads and forks. Some of the tunnels lead back to familiar places but for the most part it was abandoned except for that strange sense of lightness, as if she was soaking in whatever darkness stained this cave.

Nothing had become clear to her mind. Her eyes were till blind to the absolute truth. If she was to find out, the Host Lord must try harder. Again there was doubt resting on her shoulders, even with the lightness she could not fly. There was still something holding her down and it began to grow in the back of her thoughts. Was it because of Alet? No, he was a useless man who did little to help her... No, it was what he said that she was dead and in the afterlife. For a moment she thought it was true, what if the Gods did forsake her? What if being the Host Lord meant nothing? What if ... No, now wasn't the time to forget your faith. For faith -- right now -- was all that she had. It had kept her alive through her trials, it had kept her sane when she killed --- It was simply something to hold onto when one had nothing else and in her position, that was everything. To have nothing, to be nothing, to give your whole identity for the sake of faith itself. The Gods she was sent to find, to bring her people to, were out there she knew that, she believed that, and she saw the visions and heard the whispers. So how could she possible abandon the truth? She couldn't, but she was. Every step she took deeper into that cave had brought her down into a sea of despair, drowning her with doubt and misconceptions that could not stop shaking her down and out of all that she had held onto. It was almost as if she was holding on but her arms got tired; soon she would fall into the blue abyss that turned black.

As her mind continued to spin she finally stumbled upon something new. A small pond that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. She began to feel thirsty and without a second thought rushed to its edge and dropped to her knees, one of them scraped and began to bleed into the thin -- now torn -- cloth of her robe ends. The pain was stinging but easily ignored, she reached her hands and cupped them into a little dip that could bring a small amount of water to her mouth. When she drank her, her neck moving it down into her throat, it was cold and refreshing. She felt esteemed in its presence.

"Now that I control your sense of reality how can you tell the difference?", the voice came once more. Almost immediately the pond had vanished from her eyes as if it was never even an afterthought. Followed by that she began to vomit the dirt she scooped up with her hands and tried to swallow. It tasted bitter, dry, and made her cough in response and gave a soar and rough sensation in her throat. That was the least of her concerns. She bought into the quip and knew that it was true; she had now lost her sense of reality. She feared for her sanity, she did not want to go mad and become lost and alone forever until death. Anja had nearly forgotten death had even existed in the first place; it became a fairy tale. Standing back onto her feet she looked around, patience wearing thin. All the Host Lord wanted at this point was to see the source of the voice.

"Show yourself!, she spat out the words in a rigorous anger. There was no more tolerance for this trickster, whoever it was or they were. The voice did not respond and this infuriated her further but that fury turned into hopelessness she fell back and leaned against a wall before sliding down it slowly and setting herself roughly into the muddy ground, wrapping her two arms around her knees. She felt tired, and began to close her eyes. The beat of her heart could be heard as blood flowed through the back of her ears, her breath similarly audible as it began to calm. She remained in that state for nearly an hour and for a brief moment, only a brief one, she suddenly noticed something she never had before. That there was something alive inside her and everywhere around her and then it faded. Anja did not know what it exactly but to her it was a sign of reassurance, that her Gods had told her they were there. Rising to her feet quietly she marched onward through the caverns.

 

[Boethiah]

Anja continually walked and paced, at this point she was trapped in a room with no way out. She could've sworn she walked in through that way... But when she tried to go back there was a dead end. She finally began to slip, completely forgetting of the trickery since passed. The voice acted less and less as if it slowly became part of her reality, or even worse, was becoming the cave itself. What once could not harm her seemed to. She knew it was real, or she thought it was real, which was the truth? Did she even go to this cave to begin with? What if her memories past were all just illusions of the caverns itself. Who was she really? Where did she come from? Everything began to turn into a lie. her past, her family, and now even The Primeval.

She could vaguely remember a Sephi leading her to this place and in search of something... But of what? Of what.

"It seems you've found yourself lost.", again it was another voice but this time different. A voice she's never heard before unless she had forgotten.

Anja turned herself in the direction of its sound. "Who are you?", she asked. It was becoming a common question; strangers and those from her past had been brought to her before and it might be someone else again. The voice had no source , not yet, but then from the shadow two feet stepped out and the dim light slowly revealed a face. "Another one lost to the madness, but I've found my peace here.", he said smiling. It was a human male, older with wrinkled pale skin and blemishes of burns. "You want to find the way out, don't you?", he asked. Anja nodded without a word and turned her gaze to the walls in hopes of finding some sort of exit. Turning back to him, "You know a way out?", she asked him quite desperately. There was no time to mistrust whoever he was; she had to hope he wasn't lying, to hope he could help her. The man walked a few steps closer and placed his arms behind his back, crossing them around the lower back and acknowledging what's around him. "It's not real. This room.", he said to her but she could still not see. "I thought so, but I can't do anything in here, it's real. I feel --", her complaint was interrupted. "Because you've lost faith.", he retorted.

Faith? Yes. She had remembered thinking only about it, that she could not stop believing. "I haven't lost faith.", a bit of anger could be heard in her words. The man simply shook his head in response to that statement. He sighed, "No, faith in your perception. You no longer believe you can see the truth.", he added. She did not fully understand, his words were confusing to her but then again she was focusing elsewhere. Her lack of focus probably did not help by any means.

"Meditate in here. Do not stop until the path is revealed to you. You're nearing the end but the challenges you will face are going to become real, they will kill you if you're not careful.", she looked away from him as he spoke and when her eyes went back to him he was gone. Just as she was about to speak too, Anja didn't bother to question what went on and heeded his words. She sat in the center of the circular room, legs crossed and began to go into a deep meditation. It was difficult at first, she could not grasp herself but she began to sink into the same feeling she had when she used her magic, it was almost swirling around her as a hurricane but she herself sat in the center of its eye, free fro the torment. It was wild and when she tried to stop the motion it made her dizzy. How could she tame it? How could she see beyond.

Her meditative state continued again like earlier for well over an hour until finally it clicked, something snapping in place. The raging storm she felt became serene and tranquil, and when her eyes opened there were no ways, just another path in the caverns but the end of this one lead into a great central chamber of sorts and at the other side, as she walked into it, was a large statue with a strange item sitting on a pedestal.

She remembered now what the man said. These challenges would become real, dangerous, and will kill her. She collected her thoughts before continuing.

 

[Boethiah]

"I'm living in a dream.", she hummed the words.

For now everything was unreal, it couldn't be real, no matter how much she felt she was walking the room did not change. The distance remained the same.

How was this possible? How was any of this possible? The reality around her had shattered and decayed into bitterness; into nothingness. Was this her new reality? To be left to rot in the recess of her own darkness -- the worlds she slaughtered, the people she's killed, the acts she's followed -- it was all echoing inside of her. By now Anja wanted nothing more than to rip it out of her, as if it was a tangible object stretching itself like metallic spikes and impaling her inside out. That was indeed how it felt. That was how it all felt , there was no regret but that did not rid the despair.

"You're not imagining things.", it was there again. The voice, the only voice that seemed to exist; as her own faded. Ringing. It rang inside her ears like the wind whistling through the leaves but there were no trees. Just the treacherous cavern; the inescapable chamber. If there was any hope for her it had vanished. It had left and there would be no more. No more, "No more!", she said; breaking free of invisible constraints. The force pumped through her like ice water shaking her to life. Breathing. In. Out. Exhale. Inhale. She felt it come to life, she felt it -- it was alive. Living, life. Her teeth grit shut and ground against each other like opposing forces in the heat of battle. "You will not take me. I am the Harbinger of Nogras.", one step, "The Host Lord.", another, "Champion of Heaven.", the third, "And I choose not to die.", she walked more and more; the room began to pace with her. She was finally marching closer.

It was feasible, this object at the other end of the room. The more she stepped the heavier she felt, the weaker she became. Her walk had slowed considerably until she collapsed to her knees. Heavy breathing had escaped and replaced the ringing. She would have to try harder but there was no reason to force herself, she had achieved a small victory but victory nonetheless.

 

[Boethiah]

"You think you're strong. Do you remember the first time you thought that?", the voice broke out and a deep chill impeded itself upon her.

The past...

Running through the tall grass, dancing between the trees, darting the streams and crossing the thin green open fields. One might believe their world was beautiful and in some ways it was. Until the fateful day they arrived; the original Prophet with ships of old, this was how they came to be. The Primeval. Anja was only young at the time, not a few days older than fifteen on the day she felt strong.

"You're too quick for me, Anja.", an Umbaran boy not much older than her in appearance. She turned around to meet the source of these words, a faint smirk crossed her lips. "That's because I've been practicing.", she chimed in. Their playful banter was interrupted by his stark expression. "What is it?", Anja asked as her eyes narrowed in cynical curiosity. His face twitched here and there, his lips moved and stopped as if he tried to come up with the right words but couldn't. Then he simply shrugged and sighed through his nose. "Practicing for what?", for most students of her caste, there was little going on at this point that required physical conditioning -- which meant one thing; She was about to begin her final trial before being declared an adult of her people. The same trial he had been told to prepare for. "I'm going to pass the rite.", she said quite proudly of herself on the fact, few at her age were able to achieve such a thing; it was more common in the lower castes -- easier to ween out the weak and replace aging soldiers.

No, for him this was not something to be proud of - at first - but he assumed the naive thoughts were true; different opponents. Until...

"There you are!", his father approached. "Scyre , I -- ", his words stopped at the notice of Anja. A sly grin pressed his face. Scyre -- his son -- did not say a word; perhaps it was too soon to assume the better. For Anja she had yet to understand what was going on. "Sir, is there something wrong?", she asked. "Don't speak to me like you're on equal terms, Aj'Rou.", despite the fact their bloodlines were on equal terms, this was not represented in his words. For the moment Anja did not test her luck on the debate, instead complying with a subtle nod and bow. "Forgive me.", she responded. The older Umbaran man's bald head shook to her and then looked to his son, who looked like he saw a ghost. "No need, girl. I am actually glad that I found you. Both of you have the special honour of conducting your rite today... Against each other.", he said quite heavily to make sure the words sunk in to both of them. Their little parade would not continue longer. One of them would have to kill the other or face execution -- or worse -- torture.

"This has to be a--Mistake, I'm supposed to fight someone of my caste.", the words were bitter to the old man's ears. He clenched his fist. It was bad enough his own son had to be placed in one of the lower castes, and even worse to be reminded of it. It was a stain on his bloodline and most of all the fact he would appreciate a member of his Rival bloodline was the sour aftertaste to finish it. The scheming head of one of the great Rou families had decided to see to it that his son end her life in the rite. Not only would he become one of the few younger members of society to pass at such an early age but also elevate him to her status.

"You want me to fight him?", she pondered. Scyre looked to her; why wasn't she protesting? Worse matters were at hand, this particular sentence was not the right choice of words. It suggested she did not find it good enough --as if to him, Scyre's father, she assumed she was better. "I got permission from your father and am here to oversee it...", his little speech was interrupted. "Along side her father.", another Umbaran of similar composure walked to his side; escorting the man were several swordsman wearing the mark of the Bleeding Sun. Anja's face lit up and then grew cold, she turned to Scyre. The two have shared moments and she didn't want that to end but this was her moment. Of course she wondered if she'd be willing, but she knew he would be -- or thought so. In her entire time with him he did not once disobey a command from higher authority, even her. That was a sure sign if any presented itself. "Do I have any say in the matter?", Scyre asked quite disdainfully, the tone was truly to mask his unwillingness. "Of course it is.", Anja's father interrupted Scyre's much to his distaste. Of course no argument would be had, one wouldn't risk it. "As he said... There's no choice in the matter, what is done is done and what will be done will be done.", he said quite pleased with himself; clearly a facade.

"You may begin.", two members of the bleeding sun tossed out two dueling swords. Both caught them quite carefully and took stances, although Anja was much quicker to do so than the slightly hesitant Scyre. She noticed this, but did not assume the reason why. Instead she launched the first strike. He parried it almost at near miss. His father's face hid the true fear of the moment, what was his own son doing? To Scyre he did not want either of them to die and was planning some way he could avoid killing her whilst also avoiding disobedience, trying to remember anything he could from the doctrines. His thoughts were interrupted from each of her strikes, a sword there, a kick here, a feint with a punch. A few hits landed but the boy was on the defensive. To avoid suspicion, he launched a rather dangerous counter that sliced through the thin clothe on Anja's robe but only air brushed her skin. She puffed at the attack, but soon too thoughts ran through her head. The assault she put up slowed a bit; this wasn't training -- she'd have to actually kill him. That was not an easy image to bear, she may have not been new to the concept of killing someone, but someone so close to her, a friend, perhaps more... That was different to say the least.

Their duel continued, the fight lasting minutes now and then it struck Scyre. There was a way, he smiled as he was about to tell her only to be launched with a heavy strike. His blade pushed back to his nose; thankfully on the blunt side but it forced him to stumble back. His voice could not break out, it was as if something else came over him. Would she really?, he thought to himself and in that moment of slight hesitation she launched again and this time the cold blade pierced through flesh and deep through his chest. It was sharp and cold, a throbbing pain escaped his back as he felt the blade go all the way through, even as he fell back she continued onto him until the metal sunk under the dirt, his blood soaking the soil around them.

A cold look hollowed out his face as if somehow his life force escaped in the most uneventful way, his piercing eyes looked upon her as if it was a nightmare. Betrayal. He was at his highest moment and then sunk to his lowest, but worse was that he could not say anything. It just ended. Nothing, absolutely nothing, that was the worst feeling -- brief and uneventful. His body had jut gone limp, that was it. Death.

Anja hoisted the blade from his chest, nearly tripping backwards. The horror on his father's face when he turned to her own father. It seemed another deal was made in the shadows, one of the bleeding sun members crept up behind him in the moment his eyes locked on in despair, beheading him on the spot. Father and son. Dead together. Anja at first didn't know what to feel, she felt sick until she heard those fateful words.

"There is so much potential in that. In you, a gift from the Gods, you are indeed one of the candidates. I spoke with the other Elders my dear, Anja; you will be trained amongst a select few to become a possible Host Lord. Revel in the victory for it was hard won and certainly won't be your last. Now, come along.", he turned with his entourage and headed away. The future Host Lord followed -- leaving her past, her once potential future behind her.

 

[Boethiah]

The present...

"How could I forget? He loved me and I betrayed him.", she finally admitted; it was a confession she had wished to release and one that would make her stronger in time but right now she felt weak. Exposed, and naked like a tree in the midst of winter. Where were her leaves? Where was this strength and greatness that her father promised to her. Where was anything that made life worth living? It was as if everything had tumbled down, crumbling around her. The foundation of an entire empire could not bear her grief. That was how unbearable the pain was. To which no words in a thousand summers of opportunity could describe. Describe that pain in her chest, the spikes continued to grow and it was ironic. It must've felt similar when her blade struck him. "How unfortunate, I had wished you were stronger than that.", the voice mumbled as if it was sorry for her.

A mistake. "Pity? I see...", her sadness became anger. How could she be taken a fool? This voice was stealing her memories, not knowing them, but pretending. It sought out the despair in all her great moments. She knew now its plan, this is how it intended to break her by ruining her foundation, by removing meaning from her purpose. "You're mine.", she said spitefully.

"Well done.", the ethereal being from earlier appeared in front of her. "You've conquered your first challenge, by defeating the doubt that tainted you. The power of the dark side is one which often leads to regret... Carrying all that death and chaos is too much for many, even the first Jen'ari", the voice said. Anja looked towards the ethereal form, she felt proud of herself. That same pride she felt when she first killed Scyre. There was no turning back, she realized that now. The only way to win was to forge the future by destroying the past. There was no room for despair in her heart.

Before she had a chance to say anything the form spoke again, "But don't believe you're the first. There's a reason why each Jen'ari tends to be more powerful than the last... It's an evolving state, much like a predator and it's prey.", he spoke before showing her a vision of two creatures dancing in unison each one slaying the other until the vivid images rapidly expanded. She had no idea what she saw, what was it representing? What struggle was she bearing witness to? "You're still quite ignorant.", it retorted to her misunderstanding of what she saw; a disadvantage to her. The ethereal form disappeared with one last sentence.

"Continue, live, fight for your life because you'll never leave this place if you don't.", the voice faded into an echo with its form. The Host Lord stood up. No longer feeling the weight on her shoulders. She felt. Well, normal. She was no longer haunted and that gave her strength and confidence as she walked towards the altar. Only a few meters away it seemed the next challenge would arrive. The cavern shook violently...

 

[Boethiah]

Coiling around in a circle , entrapping the Host Lord in a small space was a serpentine creature of unknown origin; was it another trick? No, she didn't feel the same magic as earlier but then again reality was beginning to fade and things were phasing her. Anja grunted in disgust at the sudden upheaval. "I have no time for this!", she yelled bitterly towards the creature and swung her now activated vibroblade towards its scaly flesh. The creature let out a demoralizing screech causing some of the statues lining the room to crumble and the supports to crack. Perhaps that was a bad idea, if she wanted to live she needed to make sure the cavern was still intact by the time she was done with it. The serpents head struck out of the coil in a lightning-like pattern towards her blade in an attempt to latch on with its crystalline fangs.

Her blade slashed out and batted the head towards the ground which it ricocheted towards her leg, one of the teeth sunk into her armoured boot but did not pierce it. The pressure was still painful, nearly cracking her bone before she struck towards what seemed to be a shadowy eye. Nothing happened. No blood, but it seemed to react quite defensively to the attack. Rather than letting the blade pierce deeper into the hollowed darkness, the creature retracted. The move was a feint, from behind its tail punched her in the back and sent her flying in a skid across the room, she was now halfway towards where she started and between the altar.

"Damned thing...", she muttered as she skipped like a stone across the pond, using her blade in a feeble attempt to slow down the momentum, it just bounced off the stone floor to which she kept her head up, straining her neck before somersaulting to her feet dizzily and stumbling back a few steps; unable to retain any stance. Matters did not become positive, the creature launched itself and slithered across the floor, friction was no issue it seemed. Again it launched a lightning pattern strike like a kite in the wind. Glancing left and then right, her eyes matched its coiling movements as she stood shakily before the head latched onto her left arm, her swordarm, and forced her to drop the blade. She let out a painful scream as her forearm's bone broke, and crushed the light bracer which proceeded to fall off. She yanked her arm, shattering the fangs which sent the beast aback -- oddly enough. Neither a victory nor a defeat. Her arm hung like a useless dead weight. Lifting was too painful, and holding it was useless, she kneeled down to grab her blade but when she did the beast bashed its nose into her chest and pinned her into the ground.

This was the end? So be it.

 

[Boethiah]

The beast snapped back and coiled above her, barely able to keep consciousness, Anja was helpless and looked on at the demonic figure. So this is it?, she thought to herself. Life isn't what it seems, then, perhaps the doubt in her head was the truth? Awaiting the inevitable, the Host Lord closed her eyes and heard the beast strike one last time. A brief spike of pain struck at her back as a rush of adrenaline shot up towards her heart. The moment subsided and her heart was racing at an incredible pace. Am I not dead?, she wondered and began to open her eyes.

An empty room was before here. Nothing but herself and a murky presence. The only sound was her breathing and wheezing; the sounds of someone who just escaped their nightmare; it made her restless. It took her quite a while before she was able to process anything. Was this... Death? Suddenly the sounds of footsteps began to grow closer, she could also hear the sound of something else; wood clanking on the ground. Her head turned towards the direction of the sound, a rather ragged figure approached her, an old bearded man with a bald head that was sparsely coated in thin grey hairs.

"So you finally see me?", he chortled. It was the voice from earlier, the source of it. But how could she be sure this wasn't another trick? Anja didn't feel it to e a ruse, though, and accepted the fact.

"Who are you?", she asked. It was the only question that could come to mind -- one which happened to be avoided often. Still, who was this man? What did he want with her? What role did he play in everything? There were so many questions to ask that they held themselves at the tip of her tongue, creating a headache of uncertainty.

The old man sat down, crossing his legs and allowing the walking stick to rest in his lap. He smelled awful, like soot, rotten fish, and alcohol mixed together. His eyes were dark... Not physically, but they gave a cold stare that even exceeded the emotionless gaze of an Umbaran. It was the kind of stare one gives when they lack empathy. Two tired and rather lethargic eyes. He took a hand to his beard and began to scratch which created a ruffling sound. "Who am I? Who are you, dear? Why do you ask the same questions over, over, and over again?", he retorted; asking his own question.

The man was an oddity to say the least, "Who are you?", she emphasized without care to his nonsense. She had suffered near-death too many times to have patience for enigmatic responses. She wanted a straight answer and more important a way out of this madness.

"That's not a very forward question, honestly. -Who- -am- -I- ? You see, dear... Who refers to what, and then that leads to how, and time gets involved... It's a crazy pursuit of nonsense. You're better off just asking for a name.", he said whilst wriggling his untrimmed toes. The man was rather putrid and seemed malnourished, how could someone survive in those conditions? More importantly. How did a place like this even exist in the first place? "More importantly, I have the source of your troubles and the answer...", he reached into his ragged cloak and pulled out a worn book, its bindings were leather and its pages of parchment. A relic of times long since past. He tossed the tome to her.

Anja caught the book and looked it over, "What is your name?", she asked impatiently. Her eyes darted down on their own and when they looked back up he was gone. Anja moved around rapidly, turning in all directions to try and see where he went. There was panic in everything she did.

"Turn around.", the voice said.

As Anja turned around the beast that had supposedly killed her was ready to strike and coiled out towards her...

 

[Boethiah]

The room was dark and in the midst of night. A quiet breeze streamed through the various tunnels and corridors that spiraled through out Sar-Sargoth, the capital city of Gulamendis. Anja awoke in a fright -- exhaling and inhaling rapidly as her chest expanded and contracted in pace of the beating drum that was her heart; her panic prevented her from catching her breath or talking. Her milky eyes tiredly wandered the room searching for the beast that struck her. It was just a dream, she caught her breath in the thought.

The brief moment of comfort as cold sweat ran down her head, chest, and back soon vanished when she looked down at her lap. Just over the cloth she used as a blanket was the old tome she saw in her dream. A bleak feeling overcame her as she made note of it, her mind halted itself in incomprehension towards this reality.

A set of tears trailed down her cheeks without a sob. The Host Lord was broken.

"This isn't real.", she mumbled.

Oh but it was... It was.