The book combusts into flames, and so the fire ravages its revolting anatomy with a starving, avernal aggression. Dispersing into cinders and ash. I cry out with trembling blackened hands, as they are blistered and hot, with emergent wisps of sulphuric fumes coming from them. Tears semi-blear my inner bloody world. The embers rain down into the water. They persist and burn in futile defiance within the oppositional element, dwindling quickly. Then the whole ocean is set aflame - and thus turned into a sea of hellfire.
The eternal flames of Gehenna are raging in my own head, becoming my personal hell.
I bend over and vomit black blood into the ocean water. The flames around me burgeon a frenzied ascent as they soar higher, striving for the lacerated firmament. The faces of the drowned in the bookcases melt and scream through the unforgiving hellish blaze, all the while, the obsidian bookcase is untouched by the surrounding chthonic inferno. My hands fall and dangle loosely at my sides - useless.
I can't feel anything at all through my pain receptors and nerve endings. Stripped of sensations and replaced with utter numbness. And the shadow who was actively haunting V-syvious was none other than myself, this entire time? No. It was more of a visual construct of the foreordained, reminding him of what, or should I say whom, he was creating in hindsight while on his intended path.
Not only did he create me, but his own karma as well, which has been carried over into my lifetime, unfortunately.
I was the root of my insomnia.
My confidant dissected me. She violated me - someone whom I had once trusted implicitly – Ira's protégé.
The Eckrhynes were sent to aid me during my time onboard the Erradise by their founder, who also brought me into being. The person I am predestined to have an intimate relationship and a child with in my next life. I dissected Enjin when I was V-syvious, and now, ironically, I'm in the midst of experiencing a very similar scenario myself.
V-syvious relished in the agony of his captive through the excruciating procedure. For Enjin, there was no chance of escape back then. The only thing he could do was endure the tremendous pain and degradation. Whatever his true name is, Reven or Enjin, I don't care. His unnatural kindness and consistent need to protect - everything was tampered with.
He was reconditioned and manipulated; thus, a soul connection was forged between us. Ira said he needed to abolish our bond or else it would remain permanent.
It was carried over into my lifetime. So, did Ira fail to disband it?
What happened?
Did V-syvious have a miraculous change of heart or something?
Whatever the reason was, I am the one who has been forced to pay off his karmic debt.
From an existential point of view, I'm the one at fault here. I am the cause and reason behind my suffering. I have no one else to blame, other than myself. All of the anguish and hard tribulations I've put myself through were so the Sincistic Mal can exist – my next apparent reincarnation.
I am their creation.
They are my creator.
In essence, I created myself.
I am the personification of V-syvious's success, failure, frustration, anger, and regret. Something he can never truly have – not without a price. To him, I am the unattainable. The one who plagues him in his sleep and taunts him from the beyond, trespassing through the prohibited boundaries of celestial time.
He made it so perfectly transparent in his monologue extract; if he were to ever be reborn again, he wouldn't want to remember any of his memories from his previous life, and simply wishes to leave Vonplex's baggage behind.
He craved to be reborn as a blank slate – and I have done the very opposite of what he wanted. You cannot run from your past forever because it will eventually catch up to you.
You have to confront your inner demons and try to find peace within.
Come clean to those you have wronged, even if it is yourself.
In his memories, it showed the Mal's darkness being present within Eve. Father, like daughter - she eventually chose her fate. Tempted by curiosity, she began to desire the fruits of knowledge. She and Adam both bore the consequences of taking a bite from the apple. They were exiled from the Garden of Eden.
I suspected she had more in common with V-syvious in terms of personality and will, as opposed to her appearance. I wonder if Adam inherited a divine element, just as she did. Fire has always been a significant and prevalent element throughout the history of humanity, whether it was used in myth or in the daily accounts of everyday life. It has always been there and consistent. Revered. Meaningful. Heartening. Passionate. Destructive. Untamed.
I tread through the flames. I am not afraid of being burned, nor am I afraid of dying – because I have already done it once before. The flames sear my bare feet, but there is no pain, no excruciation – nothing.
Just numbness.
The bookcase in front of me warps and contorts its shape. Sounds of ear-splitting cracks and snaps coincide as it reforms its towering caliginous constitution. Remolding itself into a bleeding silhouette of ink. Reverting to a biped - to its former guise. Eight curved horns and sanguine coloured eyes. He looms over and regards me with mild scrutiny before kneeling on one knee. He leans in and lowers his head. If anyone else saw him behaving like this, they would perceive it as him acting out of character; however, there were instances in the past when selfishness and animosity weren't the only components of his personality.
There were parts of him, even he could not fathom, and yet I could understand his complex sentiments very well.
The hellfire rages on around us, and in our moment of unbroken eye contact, pain doesn't exist. Not here. Our ironic interconnection, as we try to understand ourselves, transcends our own physicality, overlapping time and space.
I stand on my tiptoes, then raise my scorched hands and part them sideways, wide enough to accommodate the broadness of his face, as it bears much likeness to that of a king cobra. I place them on his ridged cheeks, cupping his face. There are no scales or rough texture. His skin was surprisingly smooth - similar to a dolphin. He closes his eyes and leans to the one side – into my touch.
I lean forward as well, so that our foreheads are touching - and close my eyes.
You are my past - the old version of me who once lived in a different era, and experienced a necessary unfairness since birth. Your life has been cruel and vacant of simplicity. No rest from the implications of his actions. Whereas my life has been monotonous and depressing, even. Nothing was ever straightforward. Nothing went right, and something always felt consistently amiss within me.
We never craved simplicity.
We craved inner fulfillment.
I have always wanted to be involved in something unique and exciting – something that would make me feel alive once again, instead of letting the days continue to roll on by. I never wanted to be like everyone else. From the day you are born on earth, you are conditioned and indoctrinated by society. You are just a battery, just another cog in a great machine of hegemonic dogma until your life finally comes to an end.
Ever since I seized the shard from my subconscious and met Enjin while I was on board the motherpod, I've learned that there is so much more to life – more to humanity – more to me.
The universe does not begin or end with us.
We are not as special as we all initially believed, or so we were all told.
We are a part of the cosmos, just like any other sentient species, which exists and thrives among other grand celestial bodies. I will take responsibility and fulfill my promise to the soul I have wronged, the one who had wronged me also.
I won't leave him behind – not to my former self.
It is up to me to set the record straight because, after all, we are all an aspect of the same soul, whether we like it or not.
You may not accept me at first, but do consider this as my act of acceptance of our two selves, as I have come to discover who you are, and eventually, you shall come to learn who I am as well. Once you become me, your question concerning my identity will be both forgotten and answered. We open our eyes, then raise our heads and lean back slightly. His stern expression relents and softens, divulging a dreary glint of melancholy, as he always yearned for the unattainable – for what he could never have.
Then the side of his face catches fire. I spectate the flames spread from my right palm over to the left, incinerating his flesh. Consuming his face.
And thus the rest of his anatomy surrenders to the same fate – reduced to ashes.
His ashes then fleck and strew themselves among the tall dancing flames of my internalised hell. There was no expression of pain – no agony – just acceptance and a longing. The strained veins burst and bleed further around the gory rupture above in the sky.
Mya-im's face is now in full view.
What impeccable timing.
I sneer at her ugly mug, and then I smile to myself. I have no fear anymore. It is only a matter of time now before she uncovers and learns about my history records stored within my bloody subconscious.
What a poor soul.
She'll never recover from knowing the truth – nor will she ever forgive herself for the action she has committed - her greatest sin. I burst into laughter. It is so damn ironic.
So twisted and wicked. I love it!
Scenes of my past, both mine and V-syvious, are mirrored in the frolicking hell blaze. The eyes of the Eckrhyne scientist darken. She immediately releases her hold on the edges of the wound and slips away in full retreat, back into the outside world from where she came. Vanishing beyond my sight.
Finally out of mind.
The burst veins repair themselves, and the inflammation deflates before the sanguine branches retract back into the wound's perimeter. Crimson pales, as it is drained from the sky. The edges of the gaping rupture pull themselves together as the wound shrinks, hence sealing itself.
My eyes burst open in an instant, followed by rapid blinking as I stare up at the blank, lackluster ceiling. I shoot up into a seated position, letting out a loud, involuntary gasp, as if someone had literally breathed the essence of life itself back into me again.
The cylindrical tube adjacent to me is vacant – lifeless and without purpose within the grey. My double helix is gone. I can see everything so clearly – so perfectly, in fact.
There is neither the usual pitch blackness nor light around me. I can't perceive colour anymore. Everything here is painted in differentiating shades of grey and contrasting shadows. As though I'm in a parallel dimension of monochrome.
I examine my body to find the parts of me that were cut open, are now healed without any scarring or visible evidence that a major vivisection took place. There isn't even a smear or a drop of blood anywhere. The horrible, debilitating feeling of paralysis is gone. I'm no longer bound and forced to lie down on my back against frigid steel. I touch the side of my neck as I bethink back to the cruel coldness I once felt plunge deep inside of me. There is no throbbing or tenderness.
I don't know whether I am dead or awake – or am I just lucid dreaming?
The lab is utterly devoid of activity. Her surgical instruments have been forsaken in a disorderly fashion upon the floating work surfaces. I can't even sense her full presence – just residue in an abandoned lab. Faint traces of where I have been touched. The tingling sensations of her hairs that were crawling all over me, make me shiver.
I feel disgusting.
Repulsive.
Where is she?
Where did that stupid Eckrhyne go?
I'm not finished with her.
Not yet.
I turn my aching body and bring my legs over the edge of the operating slab to let my feet dangle. My toes skim over the ice-cold floor. Goose bumps and erect hairs occupy both my arms as well as my legs. I slide down off the edge and press down onto them, to then clumsily fall back onto my heels. Backing up against the smooth metallic sides of the operation slab. I quickly grab onto the steel precipice to try to stabilise my balance. I bring myself forward, straightening my bent knees before staggering forth, taking each little step at a time. My back and joints are stiff. Burdened by cramps and the pinching acuteness of trapped nerves. It's as if someone had just punched me hard in my lower spine as well as between the shoulder blades.
I feel so cold.
So very frozen.
My teeth chatter as my body fails to generate any heat. Then, a downward shot of excruciation pierces from the top of my skull and throughout my spine, causing my legs to give in from underneath me. I collapse with a cumbrous thud. Legs sprawled across the floor.
My skull feels as though it is being compressed, and a high-pitched screech perforates my eardrums, shrieking inside my head like a mechanistic banshee. Resounds of drilling. Walls groan and reverberate. They spread themselves outwards and divide into thin, yet numerous ghostly layers, from solid to apparitional.
I force myself to sit up and slouch forward as pressure builds in my skull, drastically intensifying tenfold. My stomach churns in discomfort. I open my mouth wide, and a surge of ink-like fluid gushes out of my throat. The thick black substance pours out and pools onto the floor. I dip my fingers into the moderate-sized pool of ink, dousing their tips. I lift my hand, staring at the dripping substance that has coated my fingertips.
Is this – black blood?
I form a fist, mustering all the strength I could find within myself. I channel it into my legs and take a stand, determined to rise above the subjugation of painful pressure trying to keep me down. I slowly and yet awkwardly stalk through the open lab door, stepping into the grey-filled corridors.
I detect no light down here, but it's no secret that the light had already abandoned me years ago.
It left me to rot.
The light can fuck off for all I care.
The further I wander, the more lifeless and chilling it becomes. If ghosts were to roam these ominous corridors, they would be the only things here closest to the living.
I leaned on one of the walls for support as my shoulder kept bumping into it. Struggling forth with never-failing unsteadiness and drowsiness. These corridors provide an unsettling sense of de ja vu, as though I've walked down them many times before – too many to count.
They remain divided into layers still.
A dark collective of shadows manifests within the monochrome environ and encircles me, like a sparse whirlwind of caliginosity. Accompanying me with every painstaking step. Palming the wall as I go along. I know my mental health and body are unstable, but my resolve has never been so clear.
"Keep going." I heed the whispers of darkness, an impeccable blend of masculine and feminine vocals, establishing a sense of "we" within myself.
I must find him.
The alosium walls behind me tremble and bend inwards before smashing together in a great collision. Then the rest of the passage in front stretches ahead, elongating in drastic and abnormal disproportions, resulting in it becoming narrower. Erratic palpitations exceed my normal heart rate - beating out of sync.
I push myself off the wall and break into a run - charging ahead. Pestered by lethargy and soreness. My body feels slow and heavy, as though I am carrying two people on my shoulders. I continue to bump into the walls as I struggle to run in a simple straight line towards a barely perceivable, fogged exit at the end of the passageway.
"Almost there," the whispers from limbo tell me. I dare not look back, and pour all of my focus on the remainder of the corridor evermore thinning. I leap forward, performing a nosedive into the exiting mist. I barrel roll down a steep slope. Razor-sharp protrusions slice into my flesh as I tumble down a hill of clutter and land on a foundation of metal scrap resting at the bottom. It was like rolling across a wide bed of a thousand Swiss Army knives and needles.
Then I stop rolling and rest on my stomach, coughing out the grime collected in my mouth. It tasted bitter – metallic. Black fluid splatters and drips onto the scrap beneath me. My nude form is smeared in ink and stings like hell.
Black blood again?
How is this possible?
The clouded exit I fell from is crushed internally and has sealed itself off, making it impossible to try to access from this end. With a groan, I sit up again. The darkness still swirls around me, never leaving my side. I look around. Surveying my new surroundings. There are mountains of alloyed pieces and refuse, which have already filled the wide, rounded chamber. If I were to do a rough estimate here, this place is probably almost the size of a football stadium.
Moans of steel, loud clangs, and grinding resonates from the upper walls as they continuously revolve. Massive serrated, silver teeth are erected from the thick rotating rims; gums of grey alosium.
I'd imagine the teeth were used to grind and masticate the rushing influx of fodder that came in from outside, beyond these ever-revolving walls, acting like an epic maw of a mechanistic beast ingesting its food.
Whatever this behemoth has chewed and swallowed has obviously landed in this pit. However, amongst the hills of waste, I couldn't overlook the chunks of begrimed architecture and mangled corpses submerged in crimson lying around me. Bodies of black water surround the islands of waste. I could see the red fluid – and yet everything else around me remains in monochrome.
Then again, I do somewhat recall Ira inferring that the colour grey signified death in Wa-omme culture, which barely makes any sense since I'm not a member of their race. So what's causing this effect on my perception? Is it the black blood – or is it because of my connection to Enjin? If that is true, then my internal self was correct all along. There is still time to fulfill my promise to him. And like Ira once said, the only way to sever our bond is for one of us to cease to exist in spirit. I must hurry and find his location while he is still with me.
A blue light shines feebly through the water - barely penetrating the darkness with its waning rays. Steam rises from the water as the island's perimeter melts, which suggests the liquid is equivalent to stomach acid.
Then a cognitive tug ropes in my attention towards a man-sized tear in the wall, three islands away from my current position. Despite the pain and the bleeding, I feel myself possessed by a renewed burst of vigor, powering my resoluteness to press onwards – just like he did.
Only the dead rest here in this pit.
I spring to my feet, to then wince and grunt as I apply the weight of my entire body down onto the uneven foundation of countless rubble and gruesome excess. Crunching under my bare feet. Stabbing into my flesh as I sprint across the island's breadth, and leap over the slim intersecting rivers coursing between the mountainous masses.
I arrive at the tear, and then suck in my gut as I carefully squeeze through its malformed entrance. I shuffle sideways through the narrow passage with my back against the wall, and my neck awkwardly craned forward.
"This way." They whisper again - guiding me. Then, I feel an invisible physical grip around my wrist. It pulls me forward - further into the passage.
"Fall with me."
What?
The thin layer of solidity beneath my feet groans. I slip and lose my footing, then fall through. Falling as darkness perpetually swirls around me. Conscious. Cognizant. It is aware of my movements as well as my intent. It coils around me, like a spider wrapping its freshly caught prey in a cocoon of elemental silk, making me want to stay here in my personal oblivion and melt in its protective clutches. I feel comforted. Protected, and at ease – yet starving for its affection.
Always starving.
I reach out into the black to seize nothing.
The hidden spider of attentiveness weaved its web of assurance and entrapment. Catching me in mid-fall. But I am no prey – because I am the one who has woven this web that has me suspended in the pitch-blackness - hanging in a cocoon. Then I feel myself slowly but surely being lowered down into the unseen. Supporting my back and keeping me upright during my descent, until I feel a solid yet even foundation beneath my feet; hence, the surrounding darkness clears upon my downward advent.
The umbra subsides and withdraws from a growing orbital source of azure light as it weakly immerses a ginormous chamber. Reinvading its corners and crevices. Returning to their role as silent preying shadows. The trigger to humanity's primeval fear, the darkness brings about irrational hysteria and inspires imagination – letting it soar. The element has watched over me for as long as I can remember. The final transference of its power has been passed down to me through blood and memory. Activated through self-realization and truth, it now aspires to guide me to where I must be – with him.
Here, the vault is open and capacious, but not as immense as the behemoth's stomach chamber. Just how many levels are there? Four? Fifteen? I advance forth on foot into unexplored territory as grime and cuts mark the base of my feet. A pair of monstrous mechanical hands were extended and positioned diagonally - stemming down from each side of the walls, with their argentine fingers interlocked – caging the source of dull radiance inside. Its blue shimmer is enfeebled as it shines poorly and drab through the long slit gaps between each stationary digit. Pulsating slowly and out of rhythm.
Enjin!