She could hear them. The wayward padding of feet on the rough ground. The laborious clanking of metal instruments strained by endless labor. The guttural voices of things most foul.
These sounds were the same as she remembered. After so many years, she knew that the denizens of this world were just as immutable: forever unchanged, stubbornly resolute and shamelessly permanent.
A flood of coalescing voices from the past came back to haunt her, “Foul demon!...Your birth was a mistake...You are a stain on this world...Stay away from my children!”
She gritted her teeth. Her fingers twitched and flexed as they became accustomed to movement again. She clawed her hand and heard the satisfying crack of her stiff joints.
“She has brought us ruin...Our goddess, Lo, mocks us with this.. thing!” The voices continued to scream in anguish. Their vehement accusations melded together, but they all meant the same thing.
She wished all of them would die. Perhaps the goddess they spoke of would see how vulgar these creations were. Maybe She would reset everything and start from the empty beginning. If not Her, then perhaps whatever broken System She left behind might fix these destructive parasites. Then, there might be a chance for a better world.
She didn't want to open her eyes, but she knew even after all this time it was worse to embrace the ignorance. It was not a blissful ignorance to drift through the nightmares of the past.
It hurt. Seeing hurt. She knew it was better to accept the Truth's pain.
Her eyes opened, and she beheld the familiar, murky streaks that trailed down the inside of her transparent cage. It was a jewel meant to siphon vast stores of pure mana. It was perfect for a being such as her – one that held multiple mana signatures. She acted as the final catalyst that brought corruption as the mana funneled from the outside.
She raised her hands and stared at her palms. Black, wavy tendrils exuded from her fingertips like oil. The veins crawling up to her wrists pulsed with a faint, purplish glow. She watched as the blackness dragged along the various currents inside her crystal prison until they vanished into the many holes in its sides.
She caught a trace of movement just within her periphery and stared below to observe the massive chamber outside her prison. It was once a beautiful place. She remembered it when the man in many robes brought her here with the promise of solitude. The intricately carved statues now stood guard in front of large glass canisters that stored the mana her body corrupted. The clean, small ponds once fed by gentle streams now glowed with the silver of dead magic. Water that once rippled along the ceiling with its own miniature sun now sat still as glass with an angry crimson orb.
Monsters milled about below, attending to different duties that ensured the mana flow from the crystal entered the tall glass containers along the walls. Tubes snaked along the floor to enter a large black box at the center of the chamber.
The dark essence spewed from one of the tubes as it sprung a leak, and one of the greasy, hunched creatures with sharp teeth rushed over to seal the puncture with a spongy adhesive.
Why am I awake? The Prisoner wondered.
The walls shook as if in answer to her inquiry. The monsters fell into groups and hugged each other as the earth threatened to collapse around them. A stalactite broke free of the ceiling and shattered into pieces when it made impact against an invisible barrier meant to protect the instruments and workers below.
The quakes ceased after a few seconds, and the monsters went back to their duties as if nothing had happened.
The Prisoner turned her head as a guttural roar erupted from the far side of the massive expanse. The source was a creature resting on canted knees upon a platform that overlooked the area. In its hand was a gold staff with the head of some strange creature akin to a tiger; however, the spiraling tongue from its mouth suggested something far more terrible. Six beady eyes observed around the monster from a jutting exoskeleton near a concave of ribs where the head might have been. It rested four sets of gnarled fingers on the edge of the platform as it gazed down.
A string of faint light exuded from the staff and meandered through the air towards the transparent barrier that flickered on the damaged area. The magical tether entered the shield and began making necessary repairs to protect the instruments below.
The monster's muffled, rasping shout echoed throughout the cavern, “Mana! More mana!” It slammed the base of the staff on the ground to affirm its authority.
The pitiful creatures below visibly hastened their work. Some of them spared a few glances at the woman trapped in the crystal. When one of them noticed her staring back, it shrieked and stumbled over its own feet before running to tell some of its fellows.
She watched as word of her awakening spread to the platform where the gangrenous monster sat hunched forward. The monster shifted its head to regard her for a moment. Its eyes closed, and it nodded slowly as one of the creatures whispered in what looked like a bloated ear. It rested its clawed hands on both jutting knees and waved the subordinate away.
After muttering something inaudible, the monster rose and pointed its staff at the woman encased within the crystal. It spread its four lanky appendages to the side in a grand gesture of all-importance.
“The time is nearly upon us, comrades!” the monster roared and jabbed its staff in the direction of The Prisoner. “The leader you thought lost has beckoned. He calls for your unwavering allegiance through the awakening of the demon! Let your labors wash over this land and cleanse through corruption.”
The small peon monsters had stopped their work. They rested on their knees with hands held high in reverence.
The Prisoner bit her lower lip and saw the faint trails of blood float before her eyes.
The commanding monster gesticulated wildly with its many arms. "The seed has bloomed prematurely, and so it bears a suitable rotten fruit! We emerge at the doorstep of our enemies. Let us deliver to them what the robed master has cultivated!"
The monster concluded by brandishing its staff dramatically. "For True Equivalence!” it roared.
The small monsters leaped to their feet and cheered, their harsh screeches echoing off the cavern's walls and carrying down the many tunnels of the dungeon. They threw off what little garments they wore and flung tools to the ground, beating at their chests and hitting each other in an outlandish form of happiness and elation.
The Prisoner remembered what they were called. Kobolds: sick, dimwitted creatures that followed anything if the reward was human suffering.
“Equivalence! Equivalence!” they screamed.
Some of the kobolds rushed to one of the canted walls of the cavern and disappeared behind a row of glass canisters. They reappeared with what looked to be a leathery human corpse. It was difficult for The Prisoner to see from so high up, but some of its armor was still on, and the foul creatures dug their claws into the exposed parts. Flaps of skin tore off along with the straps and buckles holding the armor in place. They tossed the body into a fire made by another kobold, and they danced around it with savage glee.
Humans should die, she thought. But these foul things...
She felt a faint warmth caress her cheek. The red within the crystal almost seemed to be challenging the blackness.
I should've died. Why was I born, Mother?
She leaned her head forward. The horns curling from the side of her head tapped against the inside of the crystal. The faint sound echoed around her. She could see her black, spiked tail hanging limp behind her in the reflection. She forced a hand to her chest and ran it down her lavender skin as if to confirm it was really her actual corporeal self. She stared at her reflected face where an even deeper purple mark in the shape of a jagged star mocked her birth.
She wished she had kept her eyes closed. But they were open now. If she was awake, then someone had revealed the dungeon.
Her fingers brushed the star. The shape smudged like wet powder down her cheek, but nothing clung to her fingers. After a few seconds of no contact, the dripping smear meandered up her face and merged to assume the original form of the star.
Humans...beastkin...monsters...she thought.
The Prisoner straightened herself and glared at her reflection. She swore that they would all regret waking her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
…...“Beastkin of GRIM” Volume 3......
Lonely and tired She waits for her doom.
Sealed deep away in her crystalline room.
Injustice received bears repayment soon yet.
The sufferer awakens, her equality unmet.
Regret will be tasted, the fruit of the dead.
In Grim words alone can this Fate be unsaid.
Oh damn, so she's the source of that black sludge we saw previously? I'm guessing the robed man used his Construct Contract in some way to allow tapping her mana stores, obviously with the whole contraption here to extract and store it. She has... not had a happy life.
Also, I see she was promised isolation. I guess she's technically isolated in the crystal, but with all the creatures around her she's obviously not fond of, I don't think this is what she sought. Then again, I'm working off about two sentences here, so who knows?
Yay! I love theories.
Yah, I just gave some tidbits here, but I like the thought process. :D
Thanks for the chapter
You're welcome. Thanks for reading.