Kalopsia

On a typical day, Matrix's lab was quite the mess.

Between the floors that, unimaginably, were once white and the shelves of sootstained relics of the maker's whims, one could say it was a bit... cluttered. Blueprints were plastered haphazardly around the workshop (the white writing was hasty and obviously very rushed); half-blackened tables were filled with parts, to the point where they spilled to the ground; even the door was bedecked in all manner of impossibly intricate locking mechanisms and contraptions designed to keep someone out.

Not that anyone would check-- Who would go looking underneath the dimly lit, constantly-noisy front of the Mechanic's Workshop?

Two curious teal eyes darted around, looking for something to make. A long Spiral body followed suit, covered head to toe in body mods and prosthetics. Gears spun rapidly on the crooks of his wings, and a cyan scarf that seemed wildly out of place whipped back and forth. He muttered excitedly under his breath, but the speech was too rapid to decipher from an outsider's ear. A strange, pastel smoke seemed to always stream behind him. No one dared question what it is, and no one does to this day.

He'd never created something living, but today was the start of a new day.
Matrix worked his way around the maze of spare limbs he'd fashioned to snatch a sheet of steel. Slithering back to his main desk, the Spiral knew quite a bit in the ways of Fire's forgery, and manipulating metal was second nature to him. He shaped the steel with a pair of specially-designed gloves, plunging his hands into sweltering heat and coming out hardly even warm. He worked at a blistering pace, and before the night was out he'd formed every piece of the puzzle he would need.

Assembling the parts, he stepped back and looked at what he'd made. The thing had a small, beakish head, which protruded from a long, slender neck. Its dim core lay in the center of its tiny, mechanical chest, which was supported by bronze wings and a strong pair of legs. It even had a tail.

The thing was still dead. There was no light in its eyes; no spark and no soul. He gazed at the lifeless machine; empty eyes stared listlessly back.
Matrix raised a claw above his head, summoned all the energy he could and slammed his hand into the core--
And all went blinding white.

After the flash, the Spiral looked at his first companion in a long, long time.

--

To the members of her family's gang, Hyril is all but an enigma.

Her mother and father erased them from history, but nothing can prevent the rebels from spraying their signature triangles on the brick walls of the city.
"Half-breed." "Frankenstein." "Hybrid." These are the words they'd heard their whole life. Scornful relatives and scowling rogues tormented them; Alas, they'd become immune to insult.

Their power, of course, was undeniable-- Not even the sharpest tongue could dent their armor there. Of course, snakes have other ways of sinking into your skin. Their parents dragged them into a life of crime, and after they had finally struggled their way out of it, they were shunned completely.

At such a point, one would expect their impulses to be unleashed, and the darkest, cruelest parts of themselves untethered--

Hyril wouldn't end up like their parents.

With a superhuman amount of strength, they escaped. Don't be like them. Don't lash out. For the love of Arceus, please don't snap.

If their parents rule the underground, they're king over the streets. They're the kind of person that walks into burning buildings and return with a smile on their face and a rescue in arms, despite the burns and blood. They are someone who would risk their life for even the smallest creature on the planet.

--

For all his life, Xiaoran was the blind man's guide.
Through sweeping sands and desolate deserts, he wandered. Chasing the stars to the ends of the earth, he forged on to nowhere.
He knew where he was headed-- To the lights. Wherever they may be. To heaven... Wherever he finds it.

Xiaoran is prince to all and king to done, bearing no dominion yet feeling the burdens all the same. The only thing remaining from princehood is his invisible crown of forgotten days. His stature is that of royalty, and that is all that's left of his kingdom.

His ascension is constant; the stairs to the realm of gods get ever steeper until he falls, falls from the sky, falls and becomes dead to the world in the blissful, empty desert.

Years have passed since he last tried to reclaim his seat among the gods; but heirs are not welcome in the palace of rulers.

Heaven has barred its gates to him. The earthly world has become the only place he might ever find redemption.

An entourage of lanterns follow in his wake, inviting others to follow, yet none ever seem to. The hourglass forever remains in his hands, losing sand, losing time until it's gone, it's all gone, and nothing can be done again...

For all his life, Xiaoran was the blind man's guide-- but the blind man and his guide are one and the same.

--

Have faith. Keep going. Keep. Going.

Alcestis sees the pain written on her mate's face as she rushes to heal him. Each step seems more painful, now; the sickening crack of joints echoes in her ears each time he takes a single, wavering foot forward.

His eyes are draining by the day, the everpresent zombification seeping in, yet he never did die. Thorns and menacing brambles wrapped around his throat but never dared to strangle. His teeth turned to daggers and his heart turned to poison and his soul turned to dust.

He still sounded the same. That wretched beast had stolen his voice and intoxicated her. Hearing the sound of him speaking of insane, terrible things only twisted the knife deeper.

The long nights took their toll on her, for one could see the dark circles growing ever darker by the week. Each night, Alcestis looked desperately through the ripped, blackened pages of her books as her mate's dark pleasures overtook his pain. She heard shelves being ripped from walls; bursts of screaming and wailing to please, for the love of god, end my suffering; the insane hysteria being snuffed out by the deep chuckling of the eldritch monster. She dared not turn away from her work.

She can't keep the thing inside him restrained for long... And once it is released, it will never let go.

Swallowing her tears, the Skydancer entered his room. The look in Tarek's eyes suggested something... Inhuman. The Shade had run its course.

"Hello."

The vessel was gone.

Whatever was left of the Imperial was all but vanished and replaced by the cunning smile of a killer.

In the blink of an eye, she felt an iron grip encase her throat. She struggled, eyes panicked and wide, breath leaving because she was dead, she was dead and she knew that she wasn't good enough to stop him, she didn't have the heart to stop him, and it was all her--

"It'll be fun watching the light leave your eyes."

Something snapped.

The tension hung in the air. The fragile Skydancer's eyes burned with black, molten hatred. There was nothing in the place of her mate, only this empty, hungry void of evil.

They say that even the weakest creatures can accomplish superhuman feats when given a reason to survive.

Power surged through her veins as she ripped away Tarek's claws and ripped away at Tarek's chest and ripped away his soul from his tormented body until she tired. She could not see or hear or feel-- There was only death. There was only ever death.

It was gone.

Her strength left her. The Skydancer collapsed into black dreams and white nightmares.

Alcestis was as dead and gone as her mate.

There was no manipulative god who took her place. There was only primal fury.

Have faith. Keep going. Keep. Going.

What's the use of telling one to go forward when there's no chance of turning back?

When she awoke, Alcestis, for the first time, was not tired.

She'd never be again.

---

Pallas had made a deal.

In the dead of night, an old, bitter friend had returned to play a game of cards. His voice sounded familiar yet strange, and his mannerisms a bit off-- One could not fully describe him by name. The dragon flashed a strained, toothy grin at the Skydancer. Moving with the swiftness of shadow, it had enticed him to deal.

Unfortunately, Pallas did not notice the thorns choking this well-known stranger's neck.

As soon as the cards were drawn, he began to notice that every suit was black-- Club, diamond, heart and spade all the same shade. Unease settling around him, yet unable to escape, he continued to warily bet and curiously lose each hand.

It seemed that whichever hand Pallas possessed, his friend-- if you could call him that, as he was acting so strangely tonight-- had one slightly better.

This could not be chance. He did not peg the large antlered beast sitting across the table to be a cheater, but was there ever a doubt that this was not a sham?

"You're cheating, aren't you?"

His words came out hesitantly, as if he were afraid of being wrong. Instead, the figure smiled grimly.

"Prove it."

He simply couldn't. Chance is a fickle mistress, capable of tearing down kings to servants and raising commoners to nobles. Perhaps it could all be fortune. Perhaps it could all be fabricated. There was no way to distinguish the two.

The hours dragged on. Pallas watched his hoard vanish from under him. He could not turn away; he simply became a passive observer of tragedy, no longer a participant.

He could not sleep, but his eyes grew heavy. He could not leave, but his legs screamed at him to leave.

Finally, as the creature showed its cards, he began to notice something.

Both of them had a four of spades.

With a jolt, he leapt from the table, shocked to be proven right. The Skydancer snatched the card from its grasp, holding on to it for dear life. He did not let go.

"Your proof is here."

The thing's grin faltered for just a moment. Then, it spread, larger and more hideous than ever before.

"Indeed I did cheat. But if you would simply wait just a moment--"

The two cards in his hand seemed to melt on the paper. Four became five and spade became heart. The cheat, the curse, whatever it was-- It had been lifted.

"--As you can see, your precious deck is fine. I sincerely apologize for my previous actions."

Pallas turned to leave, but was dragged back by an unflinching hand.

"May we have one more round?"

The creature's claws tightened on his throat.

"Thank you."

Its grip released, but the Skydancer's feet could no longer move.

He could now see quite clearly the blackened brambles protruding from its back, the thorns like razors lining its edges. They trembled with the air's currents, yet remained just as threatening, as if they were snakes posing as sticks.

"I would like to make a bargain."

The words chilled Pallas to the very core of his being. What would it ask for? His hoard? His home? His life?

"If you win... I will leave."

He was not in a position to argue. The best that could be hoped for is that this... this demon leaves him alone for the rest of his life.

"If I win... I have a simple request."

A blackened, torn book appears on the table.

"Read this, so you may find liberation."

The final round continued in silence. Pallas's hand appeared to have been perfectly normal-- Hearts and diamonds bloodred, numbers perfectly solid in his mind. No longer did they float off the card.

It was, indeed, a fair game.

The river was flipped. Three diamonds on the board, two clubs. Three, Five, Seven, Nine, King. It was rife with potential, for good or for evil.

Finally, Pallas was going to win. He'd had a four and a six. Suits no longer mattered. He won a straight from this Shadespawn's grasp.

He looked across the table. Its grin grew more sinister by the second.

He held his breath.

The cards were turned.

"Straight." His voice quivered with fear. He had won. If there was no better hand, then why was he still afraid?

The beast rose from its chair, cards in hand. Quietly, softly, it turned over its deck.

"What's this?" A dark laugh. "A better straight."

---

There was nothing in Xaria's head but death.

That was all she saw; the blood, the stone-cold hand inches away, the rip in space's fabric...

The... Pearls.

If she was gone, this is all Xaria would have left. Pearls. There was no personality that came with them, no story and no future. Simply that they belonged to her trainer. There was... Nothing else.

She heard them creep closer, their shadows eclipsing the dying sunlight. The grass seemed to wilt in their presence. Jeering faces and burlap sacks obscured her view. They were like Arboks in human form-- Perhaps, though, Zoroarks, for no other would be this cruel.

Closer. Closer. Closer.

"Why don't you come with us?" One of them hissed, grinning at the still body of the trainer. Her shirt was torn to rags.

With dread, she stared the corpse in the cold, dead eyes... And, of course, to her dismay, they really were empty.

There was no more time. The void behind grew larger, a gaping maw simply asking for someone, anyone to step inside and be devoured. The blazes on Xaria's throat grew stronger; her fur shone with fury and fear and everything in between...

Finally, trembling with fear, she stepped into the portal.


The other side was strange.
Xaria tumbled out of the other side, falling into soft, dewy grass. The noontime sun held out a hand to her, embracing her with warmth... And then, she discovered that she could not create flames of her own.

The newlymade dragon stretched her wings.


Days passed, and she could only roam her hill. The moon seemed larger here; it took up the whole sky, dangling alone in the inky blackness. Xaria began to notice more around her-- The wildflowers dotting the very top, the faint outline of sheer, steep mountains, the...

Others?

Dusky runes in a strange language lit in the night. Enraptured, Xaria drew closer, a moth to an unburning flame.

The other dragons' wings shone like two sapphires, reflecting the moon just so. Its-- his eyes blazed a pale blue.

"From where have you come, shatterer of space?"




Stargazer was born blind, yet some swore he could see farther and deeper than any clear-viewed dragon.

He was once alone in the Cloudscrape Crags, on top of the entire world. Sun and moon had the same effect-- No heat, no warmth. Only cold, gnawing emptiness...

So began his descent.

There was nothing to run to, nothing to run from, nothing to run for, but he still ran.

The moonlit snow piled under his claws and in his mane. Up? Down? Both were perilous journeys. Only one had an ending.

Suddenly, clarity hit him. He... saw. There lay a meadow, far, far away, where space had been opened. The sun, a sun he had never known to be warm, grazed a blazing Pearlcatcher's features as she lay, unmoving. Near where she rested, there were... Pearls. More than he could count.

It was beautiful.

Stargazer woke to cold and pain.

There was blood, blood matting his mane, staining his claws, soaking his pelt... And it was all his. Agonizing wounds throbbed all across the Pearlcatcher's body. There was only one way to alleviate the pain.

With one trembling finger, he carefully traced freezing runes across his body. Healing, protection, flight, clarity, one by one, until they grew dark.

And then, in the order he had written them, they lit up. There was no more pain or bleeding. Just... Numb.

The numb was more motivating than the ache.

Stargazer bounded down the mountain ever faster. The moon was beginning to fall. His unseeing eyes wished for slumber, but were never pleased. He had to keep going. He had to keep going.

Finally, he'd hit the bottom. A warm breeze ticked his face, and the Pearlcatcher was no longer numb-- It was replaced by a light, free feeling, one that he had never felt in his life.

Then, he remembered the vision, and he once again fell into the dark abyss of slumber.

He watched the dragon look at this strange, unfamiliar world around her... And smile. The pearls scattered below her, yet she didn't seem to mind. Who would in a paradise?

Mountains littered the landscape. By now, flickers of light filtered across the grass, and finally, he could see colors within this strange vision. These skyscrapers of nature took on a light pink, and, finally, he knew where this place was.

Little did he know, the stars faded above him in favor of dawn. His sight was gone once more, but not his strength.

Stargazer flew on shining wings to an invisible place, guided only by an inner compass and the temperature of the sky around him.

Magic was in the air. He could feel it in his bones. He could taste it on his tongue. He could very nearly... See it.

He had arrived in Arcane's lands, without mistake.

As he soared inland, he felt something... Missing. A core, crucial part of him, gone. But what was it?

As he settled down in the Focal Point's grass, he found an absence of stars in Arcane. Perhaps the cosmic waters were simply farther away. Perhaps it was something more sinister. Regardless, he was irrevocably blind.

Stargazer felt a pull on this floating isle. It couldn't be anything but the newcomer.

The Pearlcatcher trudged onward, through peaks and valleys until he felt the light touch of flowers around his feet. It smelled like magic and beauty, with the very slightest note of blood.

The newcomer had blood on her pelt.

Afraid, thrilled, Stargazer drew closer, runes shining. The ground trembled slightly as another stepped tentatively towards him.

His first words in a while became a question.

"From where have you come, shatterer of space?"

---

cont. on unnamed imp