The Second Entry

Vros is a dying world located too close to the oncoming storm of necromorphic plague. It will be one of the first in its universe to fall to our influence, its denizens ravaged by visions and delusions.

When the Harrower, my vessel, arrived in the system it was no surprise there were no authorities. Vros is a society on collapse, and the scourge that would pass in my wake would only push it over. My pilot, humming an unintelligible gurgle of eldritch tongues, set us down in the decaying city scape. The rain that poured over the city could do nothing to wash away the filth that had crept into the buildings, their washed out greys permanent. 

The creature, however, that I sought was below. Those in the streets either fearfully ignored or were unaware of my presence – my attempt at stealth proceeding successfully, a trivial task when minds are feeble. Through this success, I made my way into the depths of the planet. The populated hovels of the homeless and forgotten scattered themselves through the levels of technocratic hubris – the rain providing them a source of prolonging.

At the very bottom of the megalopolis was a singular building, crooked ever slightly to the left, made of crumbling metal and rudimentary wood that held it together in places. A wooden door was the entrance to this building, a rusting bronze coated door knob its mechanism. I entered the building and the black of the darkness enveloped my vision.

My mask, however, adapted to the dark and allowed me to see. But such adaptation was unrequired. At the far end of the building were the lights of dozens of screens mounted to the wall. In a mess of hushed screams, the denizen, and the creature I sought, hung from a mass of wires and tubes. The influence had already corrupted what remained of the creature – its flesh rent in metals and dark cybernetics.

It wailed at the sight of my presence, hanging in cocooned fear. Its glowing green eyes darted away as I approached, pulling its hands over them. It lowered itself from the wires and knelt in horrified awe.

“Your majesty.” Its gutted voice fearfully said, “What do you desire?”

This was a first time for me, I was not one for conversation until then.

“Information…of self being.” My own voice alien, yet also clear. Perhaps, because of this growing consciousness, I was more capable of speech than I believed.

The creature appeared shocked by my desire for inquiry, slouching lower fearful of my pressing gaze. It was hiding something. I approached closer until its rotting smell brimmed against my armor. The creature’s mind wriggled within its own skull out of fear, yet its fearfulness seemed distant as if unknowing. It knew not what it possessed.

I grasped the creature firmly and swiftly by the neck. It screamed and shook in my grip until the last tiny breaths of life from its gaping maw coughed into nothing. Reaching back I drew forward my arm and pierced through the creature’s chest into the succor of the void, a world between worlds and home to each creature’s soul: The Coil.

It is not a destination, The Coil, but rather a piece of being. The body and soul are one, thus coiled. Like the name, the soul is coiled to the body, and taking the creature’s soul from it was like ripping threads from fabric. Its soul was dim and small, as its holder once was, yet examination was critical. Something was pulling on me, pulling me to know what was hidden.

The creature’s memories were housed and guarded yet penetrated by my knowing gaze. Nothing would hide from me. Yet, the further I went the further I felt from my answer. It was there then, at the beginning of its young existence that I found it: traces of another – the starting of a trail. I became familiar with its feeling and could sense it further away – guarded by a much older being.

I had begun to feel unease for the first time in this being. It was not the slumped creature or the questions that spawned rather than answers. It was the familiarity of the goading other.

It was of my own.