The Vaid Empire

Vaid Empire: Mother of Tentacles

Chapter 21

Unknown Date. 

Unknown Location. 

“The Artist grows to fill his prison.” 

Synaalag’s thoughts echoed as he listened to his mother’s voice. In her quiet moments, she liked to sing to her child. With no ears with which to hear, he sensed the vibrations through the fabric of reality. He offered a song of his own. 

“The Red Vessel’s malice touches a black wall. They pray to their god, knowing they’ll fall.” 

His silent voice tickled her mind. Horrid words while she sang of pleasant things instead. He savored her song, the soothing words uniquely human, an artwork of creation. A royal hand caressed the outside of his living prison. With no eyes with which to see, he saw all. His mother sat upon the balcony that wrapped around the colossal white pyramid of her birthplace. She watched the city below with a hand resting upon her pregnant swell, oblivious to his words. 

“Weep, weep for the Cavaries.” 

40th of Silla, 766 BVE. 

Sanctuary of The Mother. 

The time had come. On this day, the doom of Aslyd would march. 

Aifa raised her hand, and a horde gathered at her fingertips. For days she had summoned them, luring every living seedling spread throughout the jungle to join her side. From miles all around they came. They flowed like a black river through the tunnel, flooding the cave with a sea of writhing tentacles. 

One seedling could impregnate multiple women if it was swift enough to survive the jungle. As she looked out at the swarm assembling at her feet from atop a tall rock, she couldn’t make out one seedling from another. They nearly seemed to be a single dark mass wiggling and squirming, driven by a single instinct, ready to serve a single purpose. The Mother of Tentacles stood above them all. Her grasp held the mental reins of hundreds of ravenous creatures, her kin, her slimy descendants, her exponentially growing horde. 

Today, the birth of their homeland would begin. 

“Seek Synaalag.” 

Aifa stepped down into the black sea. Thousands of tentacles reached to serve, carrying her forth atop the swarm. Mental commands urged them to bring her across the cave, joining Vaecath as the great beast sat like an island in the darkness. Colossal tentacles lifted her to sit atop his mass, holding her legs tightly as she gripped a raised tendril for support. The black spear rested in her other hand, lifting high into the air as she shouted for them to depart. 

Commanding from atop the eldest beast, she gazed out at the vast cave that had been her home. The seedlings poured around Vaecath as they rushed towards the tunnel. 

Peering at the empty cage, having ordered the bodies of Wair and Kifi to be left outside to be consumed by the jungle, she scowled. No longer were the remaining women docile and obedient. Left unrestrained, they fought to escape. Left ungagged, they shouted curses at the murderer of their father and sister. It’d be a simple thing to kill them, yet the sight of dried blood beside the cage stayed her hand. Instead, telling herself that it was foolish to waste useful wombs, even Erimi’s, she instructed four seedlings to remain and guard them, keeping them each tightly bound and pregnant. 

She eyed the sleeping mat where Darmi had slept. There was nothing left here but ghosts and memories. Aifa doubted she’d ever return. Either they’d destroy Aslyd and build a new sanctuary atop the ruins, or she’d die. 

With a bitter sneer, she left the sanctuary behind forever. 

50th of Silla, 766 BVE. 

The Holy City of Aslyd. 

Rain beat down upon the black stone of the magnificent walls of Aslyd. An ancient guardian, the structure held back the chaos of the jungle, defending the holy city against the horrors of the outside world. For eternity it had been promised to stand, yet eternity seemed to be at an end as Audir stood atop the grand gates. 

Enduring the warm rain pounding against his crimson skin, he was a statue in the faint light of the morning. Clouds blocked the sun, as if the world was closing its eyes upon the first city. 

Never did he leave the wall but to briefly sleep and eat. After the seeker Aifa had spared had scurried in from the jungle, kneeling before him to tell of the deaths of his men and the coming swarm, Audir stood with his golden spear, a silent warrior prepared to meet his end. 

For several days, the citizens had been restricted to their homes in the wake of the warning, though life could not be halted for long. Already merchants had returned to their stands in the market, and life resumed for many. Even now Cavaries hurried through the streets, reluctantly enduring the rainy morning as they went about their business in the heart of the city, though never were they allowed to approach the walls unless necessary. 

Life would not continue for those under Audir’s command, however. The most experienced warriors of Aslyd lined the walls, suffering and wet, yet silent all the same. The first army the world had ever seen stood ready to defend their city. The width of the wall only permitted two rows of warriors and one row of slaves to support their masters. The rest waited behind the wall below, row upon row of men lined up to guard the streets and houses behind. A wide gap separated them from the wall, a deserted street that ran along the perimeter of their defenses. 

Keeping his daughters close at his side, Audir watched Rafi whisper into Pirmi’s ear with a grave expression. Spears stood tall in every hand, ready to meet whatever horrors crept from the trees. 

Only the priestesses broke the silence as they chanted prayers along the empty street at the base of the wall. Behind and below, Audir heard Gima begging The Creator to keep their defenses strong and their spears sharp. 

“The men are weary, father. Perhaps if you allowed them a day of rest, they’d-” Pirmi began to say quietly, only to be interrupted when a man burst from the trees far below. 

“They’re coming! They’re coming!” the man shouted. A scout, he pointed into the jungle behind, panting. “Let me in! Quickly!” 

Every spear came forth to point towards the trees. With despair, the man pounded against the colossal gates as they stood immovable and firm. A moment later, a second scout came forth further down the wall, then a third, leaving the vast width of the approaching swarm bare to see. The time had come. 

Audir’s single eye glanced back at the army waiting down below, a silent command. A horn rang out through the rain as men at the rear rushed to begin the evacuations. Messengers quickly departed to prepare their secondary defenses in the market, their last hope should Audir’s men fall. 

There was a moment of calm before the storm. The beating hearts of the warriors along the wall could nearly be felt as they waited, hearing nothing but the wind and rain as the scouts huddled together outside. The first man pressed his head against the gates. Forsaken, they sank to their knees to utter a silent prayer to The Creator. 

Audir’s eye flicked to glance at the trembling of Rafi’s hands upon her weapon. He felt his own tighten. 

The cracking of branches rang out like thunder below. As lightning erupted through the sky, the light illuminated the wet ground, and the anticipation of hundreds of men fell to horror at the sight of countless black tentacles erupting from the jungle. Like a squirming wave they came forth, crashing against the gates, swallowing the scouts beneath their hunger and malice. 

“So comes our doom,” Audir said to himself, feeling his first smile in days creep across his face. Raising his fist, a shout brought down their first volley. Spears were hurled at once, slamming into the writhing swarm pooling at the base of the walls. The slaves at their backs rushed to shove replacement weapons into empty hands, and spear after spear was plunged into slimy flesh. 

His escaped Holy Mother had yet to show herself, yet he knew she’d come. 

Far below, The Holy City of Aslyd loomed before Aifa, the greatest and oldest civilization in the world, yet she’d be its end. As she ripped from the trees atop Vaecath, she beheld all she sought to destroy. A mere captured slave had been brought before the gates all those years ago. Now, The Mistress of The Apocalypse led her horde against their might. 

Surrounded by seedlings, Vaecath lumbered towards the black stone walls, flanked by the trio. The swarm stretched out through the trees around the gargantuan beast, the product of countless Cavari wombs. Colossal tentacles lifted to protect his mistress from hurled spears as the creatures frantically gathered against the base of the structure looming ahead, scurrying over each other mindlessly. 

A spray of dark blood splashed across Aifa’s features as she looked up, seeing a spear protruding from a thick tentacle above her. Gritting her teeth, she raised her own black spear, leading the swarm forth. Tentacles gripped the orange and blue vines coating the walls at her mental command, beginning to hoist themselves upward. The gates were impenetrable. Instead, she’d ascend, rising as her hate carried her up the wall. 

She’d see them bleed. She’d replay every drop of her own and Darmi’s blood that had been spilled in this horrid world with the deaths of hundreds. Warriors would fall. Wombs would weep. She’d seize the city in her grasp and tear it all down, rebuilding it anew. 

Audir watched as their doom began to climb. Still creatures continued to pour from the jungle. Every creature that fell to a spear was consumed beneath the rising swarm as it was swiftly replaced. 

As their supply of spears ran low, the warriors kept what they had, holding back their weapons until the horde was within reach. Stabbing down into the horrid black sea bubbling up the wall, they fought to push the enemy back down with every thrust. 

Vaecath’s massive tentacle reached up, slamming down atop the wall before any other. Cavari roars rang out as the nearest men stabbed the black appendage with a savage ferocity, only to scream as a second tentacle wrapped around an ankle and yanked one of the men down. He tumbled into the writhing swarm below, consumed. 

Up and up, Aifa’s hate carried her forth. A tentacle batted aside the spear of the nearest man, and she wetted her own weapon in Cavari blood as she drove it through the warrior’s undefended chest. Drinking in the sight of his death, feeling tears gathering in her furious eyes, she loosed a vicious roar. There was no going back. Her war would end here. She would not stop until the city was dead. 

As Vaecath pulled his colossal form up onto the top of the wall, she peered at the vast city below as warriors cried out. Buildings of black stone filled the land protected within the comforting hold of the walls, a hold she had shattered. For the second time in her life, she beheld the first city in the world as it waited for her wrath. 

Audir watched as warriors were swept from the wall by colossal tentacles. Hearing their deaths as they crashed to the ground below, he finally gave the order. “Back! NOW!” 

The men knew their duty. Every other man along the wall retreated to descend to safety while the others remained to guard their backs and slow the swarm’s advance. As seedlings reached the top one by one, they were met with the desperate weapons of dead men. 

None ran from their end. Those that retreated joined the waiting army below, as if forging a second wall with their bodies at Audir’s command. Spears pointed outward. Stronger than stone, the wall of men was made of their hope, their bravery, their fear. Behind, they could hear the terror of citizens fleeing through the streets. Ahead, they saw the ravenous beasts pulling themselves onto the top of the wall, meeting the spears that remained with writhing black tentacles. They stood ready to face the coming horde. 

Audir marched swiftly to Gima’s side as she ordered the other priestesses to flee to the central ziggurat, grabbing her arm. “Go with them.” 

“I will do no such thing! I will remain to pray until-” 

“Go. Now,” he cut her off, his cold eyes permitting no argument. “Tell The Knowledge Holder what’s happened here. Tell him the walls you so worship have failed.” He shoved her hard in the direction of the city’s center, making her stumble. “Tell him we’re all going to die.” 

Glancing back at The High Seeker’s faint smile, she watched as seedlings began to break through the men atop the wall. Her blood ran cold. “So be it.” 

As the head priestess ran, he heard the screams of dying men fall silent as they were snuffed out, replaced only by the horrid sounds of countless slimy tendrils falling over the wall. 

“Go,” he said to his daughters as he turned around. Behind him, they watched the great beast slide from the top of the wall, nearly feeling the ground rumble as it crashed into the muddy street below. Protected in its colossal appendages, Aifa’s commanding roar echoed in the distance as the army hurled spears to slow their advance. “Accompany the head priestess. Hurry.” 

Golden tentacles tore a man in two at the base of the wall as Pirmi met her father with defiant eyes. “NO. Our place is here, fighting at your side!” 

“Look at them. Behold!” He drove his spear into the ground and seized her arms tightly. There wasn’t time to argue. “There will be no victory here. You know the city is doomed.” 

Peering back, his daughters watched in horror as Vaecath rose to his full height, hoisting Aifa high above the ground. With her black spear raised, she drove the swarm forth through the rain and flying spears. 

“Return to the central ziggurat. Protect that fool Mauron and his family if you can, though flee. Flee as far as you may run,” he commanded firmly, though knew there was little chance of escape. “I will not tell you a second time.” 

They had mere seconds before the swarm would reach them across the wide street. As Pirmi stood frozen with indecision, Rafi wrapped her arms around him with tears rolling down her cheeks. “As you wish, father. We wanted to be brave. Forgive our failure.” 

“You’ll fail me if you fall,” he said, breaking from her embrace, knowing he’d never feel it again. His grim expression offered no hint of his silent agony, though they must live. “Go. Now.” 

Making her choice, Pirmi stepped to press her forehead to his, closing her eyes. “All I am, my strength, my skill, comes from you, father.” It was a quick touch, pulling away an instant later to straighten proudly. Even in retreat, she’d be the warrior he made. “Die well.” 

He offered no goodbye as he turned around, pulling his golden spear from the dirt. The sound of his daughters forcing their way through the lines of men behind battered against his resolve, yet he held firm. 

Audir had done what he could to save the city, though he was far from finished. His purpose had failed, though another steadied his hand. Flanked by his men, he readied his weapon as the swarm approached. He’d fight to give his daughters a fighting chance. 

Gritting his teeth, he braced himself a moment before the first horrid creatures crashed against them, driving his spear deep into the mass of black tentacles with the ferocity of a dead man. 

*** 

“They’re here!” Gima announced as she burst into the throne room. “The wall has fallen! They’re in the city!” 

Atop the black throne of Aslyd, Mauron sat calmly in silence. With his crimson skin visibly pale, he stared emptily into space, not seeing her. 

Audir’s daughters arrived a moment behind, freezing in place at the grim sight of their ruler. Disturbed, though determined, Gima crossed the chamber and climbed the low dais. Only when she dared to grab the armrests of the stone seat did he seem to notice her. “Mauron,” the name was a firm whisper. “The city suffers. You’re needed.” 

“Ah.” He appeared like a statue, a husk. The smallest hint of life returned to his eyes as he regarded the young women waiting below with recognition. “Twins of Audir, bring my daughter Sarui to me. Quickly.” 

They bowed dutifully before hurrying off. 

Only when they were gone did he offer Gima his attention with an eerie calmness, steepling his fingers. “Do your priestesses still live?” 

The sound of his voice was hollow, though she nodded frantically. “Yes, yes. They’ve gathered outside, awaiting your command.” 

His face was a calm mask of stone as he nodded slowly. “Send them to the nearest buildings. Gather any that are willing to leave their homes and bring them into the safety of the ziggurat.” It wouldn’t matter. Audir had put a spear into the hand of every man capable of holding one, yet it’d make no difference. The helpless could hide, yet there would be no escape. 

“It shall be done,” she said as she retreated from the chamber with urgency, only to turn around sharply. “What of you? Where are your guards?” 

“Let it be known that you served The Creator well, Gima. Hold to that knowledge.” Without answering her second question, Mauron rose from his throne as if he was in a daze. He answered the first as he made his way towards a corridor leading deeper into the structure as if he was a walking corpse. “I must tend to my family.” 

He didn’t care to see her go. Drifting through the building, he slowly found his way upward. Mauron was little more than a phantom as he walked through the tight corridors he had known for the majority of his life. His hopes, his dreams, his memories echoed through his home, the place he had strived to lead his people to prosperity. Now they’d all be destroyed. Now his life had ended. 

The oblivious laughter of his three young daughters rang through the highest hall. He didn’t stop as he passed the door to their sleeping chamber, open just enough to hear inside. Instead, he wandered up the spiral staircase at the end leading up to his own chamber. 

Memories tried to prod at him as he entered, yet he saw nothing but the four thin cups that rested upon the long countertop dividing the room. Exactly where he had left them, always ready, he placed them atop a small serving tray. Finding a ceremonial dagger in its proper place upon a shelf, he tied the sash that held it around his waist and left all other worldly possessions behind. 

Descending the stairs with heavy, slow steps, he returned to the door of his daughters’ chamber. Lingering in the hall, he gazed down at the purple liquid filling each cup. 

The world was gone, yet he heard them giggle. 

“Daddy!” they greeted him as he found the strength to enter. 

With his last act as a father, he closed the door behind him. 

*** 

Aifa remembered their bloodthirsty grins long ago when she had been led into the city for the first time. Judging grins had regarded a savage woman, little more than a potential sacrifice to the great abomination beneath their city. Long had they believed themselves safe. For their entire lives they had been untouchable. Now, as she heard the pain of dying men and the screams of citizens fleeing through the streets ahead, she touched them. 

Vaecath’s black tentacles crashed against the wall of warriors blocking her path. Valiant and brave men fell as shattered corpses with every blow. Seedlings swarmed against their pointed spears. 

The rain pounded against Aifa as wet strands of messy white hair clung to her face. It carried away her tears of rage as she fought to see through the chaos below. Mind entwined with Vaecath’s, her hate guided his tentacles, smearing men into the mud. 

Colossal tentacles swung, pulverizing men as they crashed into the black buildings all around. A thought of her mother brought a tendril down upon a screaming man, slain by Cavaries. She remembered the many tribes she had temporarily joined, only for them to fall and scatter each time. She remembered her capture, her suffering, her impregnation at Onaalag’s hand. Darmi’s tribe had used her, and when she and the girl had finally found a home of their own, Audir’s men had torn it away. 

The world was cruel. She had to be crueler to survive. 

Down below, Audir watched through the warm mist and rain as Jynae-bal pulled the arm off a nearby man. Every thrust of his golden spear held back the peaceful death he craved, yet his daughters drove his hand. 

A smack of the shaft of his weapon batted away a tentacle seeking to coil around his waist before he drove the tip through the disgusting abomination. Black blood stained his hands, painting him after every creature he slew. 

His blissful rest called to him, yet he’d die a warrior’s death. No other would do. 

Lightning erupted behind the colossal beast carving through the men at his side, flashing its towering outline through the rain. For a moment he could see the figure of his escaped Holy Mother atop its peak, only for black tentacles to block his view. His purpose had been to cut her throat, to slay her beast before it could spread its seed. He had failed. 

A smile crept onto his lips as his army was slowly shattered and pulled apart. Neat lines crumbled to chaos as they were gradually overwhelmed. Forced to spread out, every man fought for his own life as fatal wounds tore through the first army in the world. A small tentacle coiled around Audir’s arm, and he yanked his attacker into the path of his thrusting spear. 

Azure and crimson tentacles were easy to make out through the sea of black. In the distance, he saw tentacles of a deep blue twist a man’s head around. When dark red tendrils sought him out, Audir pierced its slimy flesh with the roar of a warrior. Smaller than the other colorful masses, though larger than many seedlings, it survived the deep wound he opened, only to be forced to scramble back and flee his weapon. 

Aifa could sense the pain of her child below. As Cycath’s agony echoed through her mind, she peered down. Through the thundering rain, she found the blue beast fleeing. Hardly could any of the bare warriors be distinguished from another, yet her eyes found Cycath’s attacker, the only man wearing a vine sash across his chest. 

In an instant her blood began to boil. Even through the rain, mist, and blood, she recognized him. Though tentacles held her legs tightly, her thighs clenched together with hate, watching her one-eyed enemy carving through her children. 

Squeezing her black spear, taken from his hand, hate dripped from Aifa’s gritted teeth. “Audir. I’ll drink your blood.” 

He peered up at the looming beast as it began to fight its way toward him. Audir drove a dead creature into the mud as he watched his fate approach. A colossal tentacle swept through his men, shattering bones and sending them crashing to the ground. 

They were the final gasp of their great city. Their hope died with every man that fell. Seedlings pulled warriors into the mud. Golden tentacles ripped men limb from limb. 

There was no escape. He knew it would have been merciful to command his daughters to cut their own throats. Instead, every thrust of his spear only delayed the inevitable, yet still he fought. Every second he lived was another second they had to run. 

Audir stood before the murderer of his city. As Aifa peered down, she thought their gazes met for a mere moment through the chaos. A black spear drove Vaecath forth, and a gold spear raised to meet them. 

For his daughters, and for Aslyd, Audir charged forth. 

*** 

Sarui could hear the chaos of the battle outside as she marched into the central ziggurat, flanked by her twin guards. Though her elegant legs moved in dignified strides, she could hardly conceal the subtle trembling of the rest of her. 

“Must be in the upper levels,” Pirmi said when they found the throne room empty. 

“Fear not. We’ll find him.” Rafi placed a comforting hand upon Sarui’s shoulder, making the slightly younger woman flinch. 

She already knew where he’d be. In the event of a crisis, Mauron would give his commands, though her father was no warrior. When he was of no further use, he’d seek his family. 

“This isn’t real,” Sarui thought to herself as she led them through the maze of tight corridors. How could it be? Rumors had been whispered through the city of the horrible tentacled creatures in the jungle, yet how could whispers become reality? Any minute now she hoped she’d wake from a horrid nightmare. She’d go outside and find the wall standing proud as it always had, able to protect Aslyd against whatever monstrosities the world could conjure. The Creator had promised that she’d be important, that she’d one day hold the fate of Aslyd in her grasp, that she’d be alright, yet now- 

“We shouldn’t have left him,” Pirmi muttered beneath her breath, squeezing her spear. “Curse you, Rafi. Curse me. We should have defied father.” 

Rafi grimaced as she shook her head. “We honored his final wishes. To stay and fight would have been a deeper betrayal.” 

Marching with powerful strides, Pirmi’s jaw tightened until she felt it would shatter. Her sight remained straight ahead as they ascended a final staircase, though her thoughts lay behind as she whispered. “He’s likely dead already.” 

Rafi was grateful for her training. Though her lip quivered, she was able to bite back a whimper, focusing upon her duty. 

They slowed as they entered the final corridor. Creeping along, almost dreading what she’d find, Sarui slowed their pace to a crawl. Her father’s city was dying. To see his suffering may prove more than she could handle. 

Reaching the door of her sisters’ chamber, however, she heard nothing but silence inside. 

She touched the hard surface of the door. Hesitating, she glanced back at her guards. “Wait out here.” Sarui didn’t want to enter alone, though neither did she wish for them to see their leader in his surely distressed state. 

They obeyed by blocking the corridor behind her with readied spears. Even in the safest place in all of Aslyd, their doom would seek them out. 

With a breath, Sarui entered. The hinges squeaked softly as the door opened to reveal the dark chamber. Buried inside a pyramid of stone, no light but that of torches illuminated the halls of the old structure. The candles inside the room had been extinguished, leaving the already black walls to drown in a deep darkness. “Father?” 

“Sarui. Close the door.” Only the light of the hallway illuminated his back, gleaming off the dagger at his hip. 

Something was wrong. Her stomach tightened. Though she reluctantly obeyed, she left it slightly ajar, allowing the gentle light to ooze through the gap. Her Cavari eyes pierced the consuming shadows lingering about the room. As her father knelt in the center, she saw her sisters sleeping atop their woven mats against the walls. “What’s happening out there?” She kept her voice a low whisper, not wanting to wake them. Why should they have to know of the horror outside? 

“The world is ending,” he replied without a care for their sleep. Turning around slowly, she saw the emotionless mask of his features. Empty eyes regarded his firstborn as he lured her closer with a finger. “Come.” 

Creeping over to his side, she knelt upon the smooth ground. The shadows seemed to dance in the corners of the room as her sight adjusted to the dark, though she saw the serving tray laying before him. Four thin cups waited, three empty. 

Mauron calmly lifted the last cup between his finger and thumb. “I have failed you, Sarui. Forgive me.” He offered it to his daughter. “Drink.” 

She peered at the strange liquid, hesitating. “W…why must I forgive you?” 

“I could have stopped it. I tried. Perhaps I was a fool. Perhaps this is exactly what Onaalag sought.” The cup trembled for a moment before easing. “Drink it.” 

Disturbed by his vacant tone, Sarui took the cup. The smell was pleasant and inviting, yet she held it away all the same. 

“Go on.” An intensity seemed to creep into his dead gaze, a hint of life. “Let it bring you peace.” 

She eyed her sleeping sisters. Her tail pressed close to her back. “I don’t want to.” 

“You must.” He took her hand in his, beginning to forcefully guide the cup to her lips. “Please, Sarui.” 

Resisting, she felt the intensity of his strength growing, seeing the desperation filling his gaze. “You’re scaring me, father…” 

“Forgive me. Your fear will be gone in a moment.” His grip tightened until his fingers were certain to leave a mark atop her own. “I’ll take it away. I’ll prevent your pain and horror. I failed you, yet let me do this for you. Please, Sarui.” 

Wincing at his harsh hold, she fought to hold the cup away from her lips. The sight of him reinforced her resistance, seeing the madness revealed in his eyes. What had once been The Knowledge Holder, Mauron, her father, was gone. Glancing at her sisters lying still and cold upon their sleeping mats, she felt her heart quickening as a horrid realization gradually seeped through her denial. They weren’t asleep. “Stop…stop!” 

“Please…please, Sarui. You must drink!” The calmness of his tone melted away, quivering. He grabbed the back of her head to hold her steady. “I can’t protect you!” 

“N…no!” The cup was forced against her lips. She held them tightly shut, struggling, fighting to get away. When she tried to turn her head, he gripped a handful of her white hair. Whatever pain she felt was matched tenfold by the agony in his eyes, yet he fought her all the same. 

“Knowledge Holder, is everything…” Rafi gently pushed open the door to peek inside. 

At the sound of the squeaking hinge and soft voice, Mauron flicked his maddened gaze over to the door as tears fell down his cheeks. It was a mere second, an instant of distraction, yet it saved her. With a burst of all her remaining strength, Sarui slapped the cup away from her lips. Slipping from their combined grasp, the thin cup shattered against the hard floor as the liquid splashed. 

“No…no!” He released her, grasping at the spilled liquid uselessly. “What have you done?” 

“Stop this!” Sarui cried out as she scurried to her feet. 

“Do you know what they’ll do?” He waved a trembling hand at the wall as if they could see the battle raging through the city. “Can’t you understand the horrors they’ll inflict upon you?” He rushed to stand, drawing the dagger at his hip and raising it high. “I have to save you! There’s nothing left I can do! I won’t let you suffer!” 

Sarui screamed as he brought his blade down, seeking to meet her heart. In desperation she grabbed his wrist, saved only by an instinct of self-preservation. 

“Forgive me! Forgive me!” Mauron was no warrior, though he was taller and stronger than his firstborn. There was nothing in his gaze but obsession, gradually overpowering her as he fought to press the blade between her breasts. Hardly did he hear the door fly open. “Forgive me, Sarui! Forgive-” 

“Stop!” Pirmi stormed inside, charging forth. The tip of her spear drove into his side, sinking deep. 

A shriek of agony ripped from Mauron’s lips as he dropped to the floor. The dagger tumbled from his fingers as Sarui scurried backwards, pressing against the wall. Though unharmed, she began to hyperventilate as she watched Pirmi rip the tip free of her father. 

“Madman! Why?” Pirmi demanded as Rafi rushed to Sarui’s side, trying to calm her. Mauron clutched at his deep wound as glowing blue blood gushed to illuminate the floor. “WHY?” 

“We need to get her to safety!” Rafi interjected, pulling Sarui’s hand to lead her away. 

Mauron reached out a bloody hand. “No!” There was no safety but his blade. “Don’t…ahh…” He grimaced in agony, fighting to regain his feet, only to collapse once more. “Don’t…go!” 

Pirmi retreated slowly with a bitter horror in her gaze. The ruler of their proud city, a city she would have gladly given her life to defend, tried to crawl after the daughter he sought to kill. 

Sarui watched him bleed with wide eyes, unable to calm her breaths as Rafi pulled her back. 

“Forgive me…Sarui…” Mauron muttered through his pain. As they backed into the hall, he used the doorway for support, struggling to stand. “You must…understand! You must…forgive…ahh…me!” 

The twins took her by the arms and guided her swiftly through the corridor. In her disbelief, Sarui managed to glance back a final time, seeing his bloody hands staining the walls as he fought to follow. 

Watching his firstborn disappear down a flight of stairs, Mauron’s tears flowed freely, knowing he had lost his daughter forever. “Don’t let this be your final memory of me…” 

*** 

A bloody cough escaped Audir, fighting to pull himself from the darkness of unconsciousness. His world was a haze, hearing distorted screams all around. 

Agony ripped through his chest and arm as he struggled to sit up. When he touched the side of his head, he found blood dripping from his ear. 

“High Seeker? Everyone, he’s awake!” a warrior said nearby, rushing to crouch at his side. “Easy, easy. You were nearly-” 

Audir grabbed the young man by the neck and forced him closer, discovering that he was unable to use his left arm. “What…happened?” 

“We thought you were dead,” the young man said when Audir eased his grip. “When we noticed you were still breathing, we dragged you in here.” 

Looking past him, Audir realized that he was inside a sleeping chamber. A massive hole had been carved through both the far wall and ceiling, letting rain cascade through the collapsing roof. Huddled around, six others, including the young man in his grasp, clutched at horrifying wounds of their own. 

Slowly, Audir’s memories fought to return. Releasing the boy, he struggled to his feet, certain that several ribs were broken. The pain flashed the memory of the terrible beast through his mind. He remembered black tentacles meeting his spear. He remembered driving his weapon into the beast. Looking down at his left arm as it hung limply at his side, discovering that nearly every bone had been shattered, he remembered the colossal tentacle that had batted him aside. The world had spun and spun, falling into darkness. 

“Stay back! Don’t!” one of the others said as Audir stumbled towards the gaping hole in the wall. On the second level of the building, he looked down at the street like a silent ghost as rain cascaded down his crimson skin. In the distance, he saw where his army had once stood. Now, monstrosities littered the battleground, dragging citizens screaming from their homes. 

He should be dead. As the majority of his army lay in ruins below, each of his breaths was an insult. By all rights, his charge should have earned him the worthy death he sought. 

Below, creatures tore through a neighboring building. Either too stubborn to leave their homes, or foolish enough to think they could hide, its inhabitants were dragged out into the open. Falling prey to the searching swarm, women screamed as their legs were forced apart, helpless as tentacles forced their way inside them. 

Audir watched them beg and plead, only to scream as they were violated. A cold eye bore witness to his failure, watching them squirm in the grasp of slimy tendrils. 

“Ready yourselves.” With no hint of emotion, he turned his back upon the sight as the mate of one of the women below was dragged from the building, witnessing his love’s fate before his neck was snapped. “It won’t be long before they reach the market.” 

The others stared at him in disbelief as he grabbed hold of the sash across his chest, unweaving the vines it was made from. Struggling with one hand, he took his time tying his shattered arm to his body, attempting to secure it to his chest to keep it out of the way. With a deadly glance at the young man, the wounded warrior assisted his superior. 

“Surely you don’t mean…” 

“You’re men, aren’t you? Men of Aslyd?” With his arm tied, his gaze offered no mercy as stood before them. “Stand the fuck up.” 

“High Seeker, they’ll slaughter us if we go out there,” one of the others said before coughing up a string of blood, moaning in pain. 

Audir stepped towards him, looming over the injured man. “If you don’t, I’ll strangle you myself.” 

The calmness of his tone unnerved them, though even as they glanced at his arm, none wished to test him. 

“Aslyd bleeds as you cower. Stand. Some of you have families that still live. Fight for them until your last breath.” Audir stepped towards the door. “We’ll march through the apocalypse. We’ll join the reserve forces in the marketplace, and we’ll show this doomed city what it means to die as men.” 

The boy stood up first, bowing his head. “I’m with you, High Seeker. They’ll find us if we stay here anyway.” 

“You’re not leaving me behind,” another said, cradling a hand with mangled fingers as if they had been ripped off. “I’m not dying alone.” 

Muttering to each other, standing up one by one, the last survivors of the battle near the gates prepared to drive their spears through Aslyd’s doom. 

“You’ll need this, High Seeker,” one of the others said. Turning, Audir found him presenting his golden spear. 

Claiming his weapon in his remaining hand, Audir offered nothing but a hard expression. Marching to the door, they prepared to die. 

The cacophony of creatures tearing through neighboring buildings rang out as they escaped through the rear entrance. Nearby, Vaecath’s tentacles crashed through the black stone of another building as Aifa led the swarm up the street. 

Watching her children claim their prizes, Aifa beheld all she had worked towards. Never would they be threatened again, purging all who could bring a blade to her kin. She swayed high atop Vaecath as he lumbered through the vast city, hearing the cries and screams of her own vile species. 

She moved as if drifting through her visions. The world brought down, remade. She had kept her promise to Onaalag, for their descendants lived. 

“Seek Synaalag.” 

Below, a seedling pulled a young woman from her home. The etched artwork of tentacles that was carved into nearly every building stood behind her, as if mocking her fate as tentacles pulled her legs apart. Aifa watched her struggle, whimper, and cry out as a slimy tentacle wiggled its way into her tight sex. 

The girl reminded her of Darmi. Atop the great beast, leading an army of her kin, Aifa gritted her teeth as she felt alone. 

Behind the buildings, Audir and his men hurried through the small gardens filling the space between the rows of rectangular homes. Concealed from the view of the street, they were far from safe. Ahead, a woman burst through the door of her dwelling, falling into the orange and blue plants. A creature followed a moment later, dragging her back before thrusting its tentacle inside her as she screamed on all fours. 

Consumed by lust, the beast sensed their approach when it was too late. Charging forth, Audir drove his spear into the mass of black tentacles. Hardly did he care to wait for the woman, for she huddled into a ball on her side as his men continued their charge. 

Denied of the death he craved, he moved with a singular focus in his gaze. Still his purpose was to fight. Still he’d stand until he was granted a worthy death. 

“Wait! I-” one of his men called out as he tumbled to the ground. Bleeding from a large wound on his leg that he could no longer endure, he reached for help. “High Seeker!” 

Never did he look back. Sprinting through the plants, only his aims drove him forth. Once more they encountered a creature in their path. Once more their spears slew the abomination. Hurrying around it, a moaning girl was revealed beneath when it slumped over. Though momentarily saved, she was left to her fate. 

With their path cut off by a building ahead, they forced their way through its rear entrance. Inside, they were met by three women writhing in the grasp of tentacles littered throughout the room. The older woman of the three offered muffled pleas through the tentacle in her mouth as they charged forth. 

Tentacles wrapped around the neck of a warrior, snapping it as the others cut down the beasts. Freed, the girls crawled to the eldest woman’s side, leaking the seed of monstrosities across the floor as they cried out. “Mother!” 

Leaving their fallen man without a second glance, they hurried out onto a street parallel with the main street. Though less populated, creatures continued to swarm every building. Unarmed men lay dead, mangled and ruined, while their mates, sisters, and daughters were little more than playthings. 

Audir charged through the chaos. He pierced the side of a beast in his path as it squeezed two petite girls together, pumping its seed inside them simultaneously. All around him abominations were conceived. The fertile wombs of the population were filled by the enemy, the very thing his purpose had been to destroy. 

“Give me death,” he thought to himself, gritting his teeth as he slew a mass of tentacles in his way. The girl in its grasp hardly seemed to notice its death, legs far apart and eyes rolled back as sperm gushed from her lower lips. 

Quickly, the creatures took notice of the charging fools. Black tentacles scrambled to give chase, snatching the slowest man in their grasp. Audir didn’t notice the loud snap of the man’s limbs nor his screams. He stared only ahead. 

“Kill me,” he silently demanded, craving his peace. Facing a monstrosity in his path, he skewered it upon his weapon. “Why can’t you kill me?” 

He should be dead, yet still he charged. One-eyed, one-armed, he slaughtered any that stood in his way. So long as he breathed, he’d fight. 

A woman tried to mutter her gratitude as the group stormed by, cutting down her attacker. Seed dripping down her thighs, she hardly had time to get out the words before another beast pinned her down, though by then the men had moved on. 

When they reached the end of the street, finally emerging into the market, Audir found that only two of his companions still followed behind. Ahead, he saw the secondary forces waiting in messy lines, nervously preparing to meet their ends. 

Audir had conscripted nearly every capable man in the city. All those that were worthy had been permitted to defend the gate. The least valuable members of his army, the feeblest, the most untalented with a spear, had been tasked with defending the market. 

All that stood before him were cowards and weaklings. Never could they hope to win, yet victory was not their purpose. The gate had been their only hope, and that hope was dead. These men served only to grant the fleeing population the smallest hint of a chance to escape as they fell. If a single extra second would save his daughters, he’d make it so. 

Claiming his place of command, he watched a wave of hope spread through the rows of doomed men. False hope, for it drained at the sight of the approaching swarm. Standing at the front, Audir granted his orders as Vaecath’s gargantuan form crept up the street. 

A skinny man at his side turned around to flee, crying out in fear. Audir drove his golden spear into the ground, snatched another’s weapon, and hurled it one-handed through the coward’s back. They all watched the man fall dead. 

Audir retrieved his shiny spear from the mud as he regarded them all coldly. “Any man that flees shall die by my hand. Stand your ground. Offer no mercy.” 

The swarm rushed up the street as the men readied their weapons, hearts pounding, shaking in the rain. Audir lifted his golden spear, watching tentacles rip through stalls. 

A wave of seedlings crashed over them, ripping feeble men apart limb by limb. Audir fought with every ounce of his remaining strength, spilling black blood. He was going to die. He’d find the peace that fool Mauron had promised, though only when he was broken beyond his limits. 

He had failed to slay The Holy Mother. He had failed to end the great one’s bloodline, to give Onaalag’s descendants a peaceful end. Every movement was agony, his ribs scraping inside his chest, his arm throbbing, yet pain was nothing to fear. He stood against the horde as the others crumbled, the last of his army melting away. 

Ripping his spear from the grasp of coiling tentacles, he peered up as Vaecath loomed ahead. Slaughtering all that stood in his path, he fought his way forward, forcing himself closer and closer towards the terrible beast. He saw her atop him, his Holy Mother, the consumer of all he had ever known. 

Lifting his spear, standing before Vaecath, he felt the tentacles of seedlings wrapping around him, trying to drag him down. With one eye, one arm, he readied his weapon. The gold shined in the rain, a beacon. Perhaps catching the eye of Aifa, he watched her look down. The surprise in her gaze at his survival twisted into rage. A shouted command urged Vaecath forth, like a vengeful goddess ready to crush a mortal. 

Thinking of his daughters and his city, he used the last of his strength to hurl the spear. It soured towards Aifa, high into the air, the last hope of Aslyd thrown from the hand of a mutilated man. For a moment he thought he saw fear in her eyes, seeing her end approaching. 

The hopes of the city and the wrath of their ancestors carried the spear towards its target. When it only grazed her neck, the dream of Aslyd ended. 

Audir stood silently, staring up as Aifa touched her wound. Lips firm, he nodded, accepting his final failure as tentacles continued to tighten their hold upon him. 

Vaecath loomed above him. Colossal tentacles lifted, ready to pulverize their prey. A scream of hate called down from Aifa as her wrath drove her beast, yet Audir merely raised his head to the clouds and closed his eye. 

A smile crept onto his lips as the great beast prepared to strike. His fight was over. He’d have his peace. 

With a final thought of his daughters, feeling the rain upon his face, Audir was met with darkness as the tentacle came crashing down. 

*** 

“He tried to kill me. He…tried to kill me,” Sarui repeated in disbelief. As the twins paced frantically through the throne room, she sat huddled at the base of her father’s throne. “He tried-” 

The back of Pirmi’s hand struck her across the cheek. “Yes, he did! Now snap out of it!” 

Rafi grimaced. “Was that necessary?” 

Ignoring her sister, Pirmi cupped Sarui’s pretty chin, a warrior meeting the eyes of a spoiled girl. “It’s done! We need you here, now.” 

Stunned, Sarui rubbed her cheek. 

“Can I count on you?” Pirmi’s eyes offered no mercy. “Can I trust you to stand beside us while we try to survive this…catastrophe?” 

Blinking, Sarui felt the sting of her slap, feeling as if she had been forced awake. “Y…yes,” she muttered. She cleared her throat as she nodded, trying again. “Yes. You may trust me.” 

“Good girl.” Pirmi granted her a firm nod. As if to apologize, she patted her cheek, letting a faint smile sneak onto her stern lips. Though she opened her mouth to continue, the sound of the chamber doors hauling open seized the trio’s attention. 

Rushing to ready their spears, preparing to meet their end, the twins eased with relief when the head priestess strode quickly into the chamber. A crowd of women and children followed behind, rather than a flood of tentacles. 

“Where is The Knowledge Holder?” Gima demanded as those in the rear of the group hurried to secure the doors. 

The twins glanced at Sarui. She swallowed, trying to be brave. “Dead. With my sisters.” 

“What?” The question was hardly a whisper as Gima stood stunned. “How could they…he was supposed to…” 

“There’s no time,” Pirmi interrupted, taking Sarui’s hand to hoist the girl to her feet. “A single doorway guards us from the monsters outside. We need to get these people to safety.” 

“There’s only one gate to the city!” someone called out. “We’re already dead!” 

“You’re the daughter of The Knowledge Holder,” Rafi said to Sauri when Gima continued to merely mutter in disbelief and grief to herself. “If we can’t escape the city, this place is our only hope. Surely you know where the safest place in the ziggurat is, yes?” 

Sarui turned towards the group. Women and children trembled in fear before her, looking up to the daughter of their ruler with hope. Grimacing, she knew the safest place would be the highest chamber, her father’s personal quarters, though the thought of returning made her legs grow weak. Besides, they’d only be trapped when the inevitable sought them out. 

“Quickly!” Pirmi urged her. “You said we could count on you. Is that true, or not?” 

Never had Sarui been shy. The attention of others had often made her…excited. Yet as she was met with the fearful faces seeking her guidance, she felt she’d crumble. 

“It is better to bleed in the pursuit of your desires than to be handed them by another,” she remembered Thuron’s words, the last he had ever spoken to her. She straightened, calming herself as she remembered their exploration of the cavernous cave below their feet. “There may be a place.” 

Lost in thought, Gima hardly heard her words as she covered her mouth. It fell to the twins to question her. “Where?” Rafi asked. “Please, Sarui. We need you.” 

The words were a dagger to her fear. The life she had enjoyed was lost. Her father, Thuron, her home, all were gone. She would not hold the fate of Aslyd in her grasp as she had prayed for under The Creator, though perhaps she could step up and hold the fate of the people before her. “Follow me.” 

They moved quickly as she stormed through the great structure. When she reached the stairs that descended deep below the city, Gima halted, only to begrudgingly follow. 

Leading her people, Sarui grabbed a torch burning with a purple flame from its place upon the wall before delving into the depths of the ziggurat. 

*** 

The halls of black stone were stained by handprints of glowing Cavari blood as Mauron steadied himself. Limping through the silence alone, he held his side to stifle his gushing wound. 

“Forgive me,” he whispered, yet none were around to hear. None were left to accept his apologies. 

Fingers left trails of blood as he shuffled along. Grimacing as he held his agony at bay, he knew his wound was too deep. 

When at last he reached the throne room, he found it empty and quiet. Little but the black walls stood to greet him. A groan slipped from his lips, tasting blood as he crept towards the only sound echoing through the main entrance. 

Shoving the doors open with his shoulder, he beheld the sight of the chaos outside. Tentacles tore through his city as men were slaughtered in the market. All he had sought to prevent was occurring before him. 

“Forgive me,” he muttered a final time to his dying people. 

Sealing the doors behind him, he stepped out into the chaos. The Knowledge Holder drank in their doom, hearing their screams, watching as women were bound and impregnated with Onaalag’s vengeance. The swarm marched onward towards the central structure of Aslyd, the last bastion of the population’s hope. 

Despair lay before him, yet as he peered up at the ziggurat’s top, he saw the grand brazier burning like a beacon. As the main entrance lay in the center of the wide stairs leading up to the very peak of the towering structure, he abandoned the slaughter below and began to climb the steps. 

Unsteady and slow, he heard the approach of the tentacled monstrosities behind. Wet appendages scrambled over dead men while the great beast loomed behind, making its way towards the ziggurat. 

“Sarui…” he muttered in pain, praying that she had somehow found safety as the creatures reached the structure’s base. He turned to look down at the steps he had managed to climb, watching as the black flood pounded against the doors below. He could do nothing to stop them. His only salvation was their disinterest, for they ignored the dying man as they sought the fertile wombs inside. Dying, to be sure, though he had once been regal. 

*** 

When they reached the towering stone doors at the bottom of the descending tunnel, Gima assisted Sarui in hauling them open. The head priestess touched them with great reverence as they unsealed the tomb of the great one. 

“We should not desecrate this place,” she said as Sarui led them inside, though she offered no further resistance. All knew there was nowhere else to go. 

The corpse of Onaalag rested where she had last seen it. A hush of awe and horror seeped like a mist through the terrified group as they entered. Charred and falling to ashes, the first creation of The Creator loomed before them, the source of their destruction. The light of Sarui’s torch flickered over the ruined mass. 

“This way,” Sarui urged them on. With frantic steps, she marched towards the tunnels at the rear of the vast cave. 

“We’ll be lost!” a girl shouted behind. 

“They’re our only hope!” Sarui came to a stop before the gaping mouth of one of the twisting tunnels. In truth, she had only seen the entrances, uncertain where they led, though she had no choice. These people were in her care. She clung to the pieces of her shattered facade of confidence and used all her strength and control to present a calm smirk of assurance, for doubt would be their end. “Follow me! Quickly!” 

She charged forth into the depths of her gamble. The light of her torch illuminated the natural walls as she ventured deeper and deeper. The majority followed her light, though a select few hesitated in terror. When the sound of tentacles began to pound on the thick doors, they too rushed to follow. 

Like a twisting maze, the path ahead split, and split again, curling upwards towards the surface. Branching tunnels shot off in countless directions, and Sarui was forced to rely entirely upon instinct. There was no time to stop and choose carefully. Already they could hear the echoes of wet tentacles behind, as if the beasts could sense them, knowing exactly where they were. 

Even with her light she was blind. Trapped in stone on all sides, she had to keep moving forward, running, nearly tripping, guiding the way. They believed in her. She held their lives in her hands. Hardly had she cared about anything in the world but her own amusement, yet as dozens of people scurried in terror behind her, she found that she couldn’t fail them. For the first time in her life, she held a purpose. 

“Help me! They’re-” A scream was cut off far behind. Sarui ran faster. 

“Creator, save us!” another begged as the echoes crept closer. 

The path twisted and curved, yet Sarui swiftly continued forth as her heart pounded in her chest. Another scream, and another follower fell to the squirming echoes hunting them. 

She needed to get out. She needed to save them. 

“Mother! They’re…NO!” a young woman cried out, nearly at Sarui’s back. 

The torch flickered its purple light upon the smooth walls of the tunnel, yet she saw a hint of natural light ahead. Her heart leapt in her chest, tasting hope. Was it possible? Had she saved them? 

“Sarui…” Gima muttered just behind as they ran towards their salvation. When the girl looked back, she saw the reality upon the older woman’s face, hearing the tentacles just behind. 

“No,” she whispered through her frantic breaths. “We’ll make it. We have to.” 

As she reached out towards the light, nearly touching their freedom, a tentacle wrapped around her ankle, pulling her to the ground. The torch fell, and her nails scraped against the stone as she was dragged back into the darkness with the rest of her people. 

*** 

Mauron collapsed to his knees. Too unsteady to stand, he continued to crawl up the countless steps of the pyramidal structure. 

Bloody hands pulled Mauron along as rain beat down upon his dying form. Ascending step by step, there was nothing more to lose. 

Every movement sent pain shooting through his body, yet still he rose, still he ascended. Peering back only once, he saw the massive beast reach the base of the structure, beginning to rise. Black tentacles slithered up the ziggurat. 

Rain dripped down the face of a dying man as he clawed towards the grand brazier burning at the peak. He had lost his daughters, his people, his city, and his throne, yet he fought to rise, reaching out towards the sky as if The Creator would notice.

Vaecath climbed the pyramid behind as Mauron pulled himself up and up and up. Every ounce of The Knowledge Holder’s strength drove him forward, desperate hands dragging himself with burning determination. 

A thought of Sarui pulled him up a step. The memory of the slaughter below dragged his bleeding form up another. 

His hand left a bloody print that was soon washed away as he pulled himself up onto the ziggurat’s flat peak. Gritting his teeth, Mauron crawled towards the flames as they burned despite the pouring rain. He collapsed upon reaching the base of the massive brazier, turning to rest against the stone base as he loosed a breath to release his agony. He felt the heat at his back, enjoying the last hint of warmth in his life as he prepared to die. 

Black tentacles rose up from the steps to seize the ziggurat’s peak, stretching into the sky. The horrid beast writhed in the rain as it loomed before the doomed man. 

Aifa peered down at the dying ruler of the city. Her fate had once been in his hands, and he had sealed it. 

Black tentacles reached down. Mauron lifted his face to the sky. “Creator…” He had seen black tentacles rise in his visions. He waited for the flash of light, the end of all things that would burn the world away. “Avenge us…” 

The flash never came. Instead, a tentacle wrapped around his neck to hoist him into the air. Brought before Aifa, he faced the woman he had sentenced to death long ago. 

“My…daughter…” he struggled to beg. Staring death in the eye, he thought of nothing else. “Spare…her…” 

“You know what’s to come.” Aifa scowled. “It’d be wiser to beg for her death.” 

A flick of the tentacle snapped Mauron’s neck. As the life faded from his eyes, she cast his corpse into the flames. 

Turning, Aifa peered out. Atop the world, she saw the ruins of her species. 

She closed her eyes to sense the minds of the seedlings spreading throughout the city. More than half had fallen to their spears, though still they remained. 

“Onaalag, I’ve returned.” 

Once, she had believed she’d savor her victory. Now, only tears dripped down her cheeks as the rain washed them away. 

Atop their tombs she’d build a homeland. Her work was far from done. 

“Seek Synaalag.”

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