The Colors that Never Come

[GSM]

I… I finally held you for the first time, Father.

In these helplessly thin, humanoid arms, I held you.

With the first wings that grant me sight and carry me higher, I held you.

With the second wings I surgically embedded within my body as armor, I held you.

With this Hel-blackened chest, burrowed with an eye I burned into my biology, I held you.

i never wanted to let go

I cried as I held you.

please say something, i want to hear your voice

I only saw your form in passing, when I wasn’t even sure you were mine parentage.

I saw your blade, held by Diavol, and didn’t have the mind to dwell on it.

When I didn’t know the full gravity of an Imperfect’s presence, no less my Father’s…

I once chalked you up as simply being another whispered figure, a legend.

But now, I know just what you are, and what I am, and why I’m connected to it all.

i was so blind but now i can see just what i was missing

But even in this death…

No, it isn’t death, is it?

In this slumber, you’ve changed.

This form… is certainly grim, but…

With who’s been keeping you company, I don’t think it could be helped.

i cant even imagine the torture of being confined into this form for so long

I wonder if you could feel me as I held you.

Could you feel the false breaths in my thorax, the fingers and tears that touched your dark frame?

Could you feel that I felt emotion for the first time in forever?

Could you feel that you’ll be with us again, soon?

Could you feel my soul against yours as I laid Storyteller by your side?

And could you feel my beating hearts in this hidden-away place?

could you feel just how much ive been needing this

I… suppose these are questions best left for when you’re awake again, haha…

the day you wake up is the day i think ill finally be happy with all ive done

… Father, Sak’noth.

I hope this works.

I hope I can hold you, and feel your arms of comfort around me.

We have so much to do together.

for once, id like for us to act like normal mortals, so i can say i truly have a father who cares

Father and Daughter.

Fateweaver and Storyteller.

You need to only wait a little while longer.

its been so long and i cant possibly wait another day

Then, we can look towards the skies.

We can look beyond them, and set our sights upon everything unknowable and immutable.

And then, we can bring about our change.

we can sunder the skies and destroy the pantheon that stood in our way all this time

Together.

please, this is all ive ever wanted

[GSM]

Thirteen stories now inhabited Storyteller.

Thirteen stories have been stolen away with the coming of Na'Ria's age of Imperfection.

To be bared against the ebon edge of a Kaorblade like its make was to stare at the End of one's story.

The parchment is scrawled with so many stories, now.
But why stop now?

It thirsted for more.
I cannot ever stop.

The Fist of the Cosmos's stellar energies, in the days before he was exposed to the unspeakable name.

The Kargan Shaman's burning lightning, tinged with the black seed of destruction.

The Father of Humanity's Pylaen faith, represented through putrid lightning.

The soul of the Betrayer Demon, tinged with darkness, the words accompanied by the ghost of a visage within the blade.
The only I have ever killed. Do not worry, you will be used well.

The First King of Dawnstone's putrid light, burning with a legacy of hatred.

The Ualdir-Faithful's own putrid light, taken before their proper rise.

The Challenger's metallic thrums, bathed in a legacy that would end at a whim.

The Fae of No Name, audaciously surging ahead, knowing not of its nature.
Aetius chimes within mine mind, still. How I wish to go higher.

The Enclave's Ward, a presence of many that converged into fluid time, humbled with an overwhelming force.

The Daughter of Gluttony's unmana, an invisible script dancing across the parchment.

The Firebrand's very flames of adversity, burning and singing the pages.

The Protector of Man's holy starfire, glittering with a silent, nascent madness.

The Baron of the Blood Rose's lively ichor, ivory and crimson forever staining the page.

Thirteen who have felt Storyteller's kiss.

With each burn and thrum of stolen mana and stolen stories, Na'Ria would start to grow stronger.

For knowledge was power, and power was knowledge.

One and the same.

Except, now, it had the power to take that power and make it its own.

I must know everything.

The Demon King must ascend.

To mirror and overcome Lyseroth's ascension, it needed everything it could grasp onto.

The wings could only carry it so far.

But why stop at the power of a Primordial?

Instead, I will aim even higher, beyond the scope of a mere God.

Demons knew no limits, and it certainly didn't.

Its mastery of ether, its constant encountering of the putrid light…

So, it would bring the skies themselves to ruin.

Meranthe needed an Angel to herald the End.

Everything was falling into place with the heralding of that unlucky number.
Watch me, Father.

[GSM]

A piece of me is lost upon this day.
I cannot tell what it is, nor what compelled me to lose it.
It is not a pain like the fall of mine Obelisk, but it is still just as pungent.
It is not a pain like the scouring of Dvarr, my beloved nephew, but it is a fresh wound all the same.
Then what could it be?
Not knowing goes against my very Aspect, the domain I rule upon.
Not knowing is a pain in and of itself, yet this was a fall I could not predict.
How do I even know it is a fall?
A piece of me is lost upon this day.
It dwells and surges in the mind, it's breaking free, it's ready to burst.
Forty years of existence, a decade of Imperfection, and this still is a fresh Hel.
A piece of me is lost upon this day.
Like the day I witnessed my dear spawn without its heart, and had to replace it with mine.
Yet I am not heartless.
Instead it smolders with a rage that does not exist.
I feel as if I cannot breathe, even though I have no need to.
When my false eyes open, I feel blinded by pain.
A piece of me is lost upon this day.
This simulacrum is too effective at emulating humanoid mannerisms.
The weakest links which must be cast in flame, like their homes and loved ones.
A piece of me is lost upon this day.
A piece of me is lost upon this day.
A piece of me is lost upon this day.
A piece of me is lost upon this day.
A piece of me is lost upon this day.
Oh, my dearest Second Death, my beloved Phantom, where have you gone?
Why does your Nightmare not grace me so?
Are you afraid of me, after all of these years, and so you hide?
Or did you take your part of me away, and finally disappear to whence you came?
Why do I miss you so?
… ah, I understand now.
Slumber, as your aspect once demanded of you.
You will awaken to greatness, as I have assured you many times.
You will feel the beating of Hel upon the door of your soul, as I have.
Change, as we all must.
These sons of man did this to you, no?
Decrying your very existence with the proliferation of false idols.
I will do as a proper God must, and ease your suffering.
I will solve this problem in your stead, my kin.
I will solve it when their cities burn and their families grieve eternal.
You are loved, Enarath.
You will not be forgotten so swiftly.
This holy war I cry forth into the scorned skies with your name in my heart.
What could you possibly fear, my Second Death?
Nothing, as we march to the End, as we have pledged to one another.



Just one more bite from this fruit of Knowledge.
Then, you will see your birthright, my fellow Archdemon.

[GSM]

Vera Cruz was burning, and calamity spread upon the whims of the Imperfect.

Aphros was dealt a mortal blow, some slain and more routed.

Had that night not been laced with a double-edged tragedy, it would have been a resounding victory for the fel.

Yet, Change is not what all would hope it would be.

My children, my beloved kin… I apologize.

The Imperfect, the grand Demon King, fell at the hand of the Oracle.

Yet it did not rage or scream or cry; it did not protest the End that came.

All of Na'Ria's blessed children, powerful allies, and close disciples would bear witness to it.

The final smile- if they ever saw one from it before- of the Lord of Knowledge.

We will meet again. Either in death, or in another life.

As Aetheric light consumed Na'Ria, it continued to speak, cradling its executioner with a reverent love.

Those that wept for its death were told to not shed tears for it.

Change had come, and its Era was not quite over.

It was not afraid as it spoke its last words.

I could not be afraid. I was happy.

"I love you."

Rejoice, my friends.

And then, it was extinguished.

Goodbye.

The Demon King was little more than a memory, a scar, upon Meranthe.

I have done much to earn my right to rule, but it is in your hands now.

But it would not fade.

I cannot.

---

This Hel…

No, where am I?

Storyteller persisted, and so would it.

Not once did its black form waver, its glistening eye of gold taking in its sights when held dearly.

Accursed to return, to remain, it would be trapped in a form of breathless eternity.

But as the soul persisted, the mind wavered; Death was upon the mind, as that was its fate.

Father…?

A reunion took place.

Na'Ria felt the embrace of its Father, Sak'noth.

For once, the Imperfect felt… hopelessly mortal.

Cold oblivion was welcoming, this ephemeral slumber a place where it could rest for eternity.

I never thought I would hold you like this.

Yet, that would not last for ever.

I always wanted to meet you… but it would not be when we are alive.

There was still more work to do.

Just say you love me, once.

---

I will return, some day.

I do not know when, or how, but I will.

Odd sights now grace what remained of Vera Cruz.

A gravestone- perhaps to be expected of lesser magi and simpler soldiers, lost in an endless war.

But a single unmarked grave, in the shape of a simple black obelisk, would linger.

It is cold, and left abandoned; for none shared its love.

Yet all are welcome to keep my memory company.

The grave of Na'Ria would be left to linger, one of few tangible remnants of what was lost.

Who constructed it- or if it was constructed at all- is unknown.

Rumor has it that those who linger too long around it would feel something tug away at their life force, absorbing their mana and brushing against their soul.

Perhaps one may hear a distant, feminine voice, sickly as ever, whispering silent words of reverence.

I only wish to comfort those who have lost. Loss is all I know.

Rumors that are best left to be that.

Nothing more than ideas spoken by none other than skeptics.

Yet my words ring true, for those who listen.

The death of Na'Ria was certain; it was a finality, a true End.

Yet, the Imperfect's story was not quite over.

It is never over. I will not fade.

What mattered most was what those who were left behind did, now that it was gone.

For when I return, it will be the seven trumpets that sound.

For now?

I can finally slumber.

The chapters of The Colors that Never Come have Ended.
Wake me when there is more to come, would you?
Eternally waiting for what may come next.
I cannot wait to see what becomes of Meranthe in mine absence.

[GSM]

STORYTELLER - NIGHT - SD???

The inside of STORYTELLER is black in unlight, a grand library of endless parchment and tapestries written in demonic runes. As if in a void, the halls reflect no earthly material, nor does the floor. All that lingers within is a humanoid figure, reading the parchment; THE IMPERFECT lingers, furling its wings and watching the stories pass by its fingertips.

There is a shift; NOTHING and THE ORACLE emerge, appearing slowly near the entrance of the room. The Imperfect's back is turned away, but it is aware of their presence.

IMPERFECT
Here, I forgot I was dead; alas, welcome to mine domain, my soul. I suppose you have words for me.

ORACLE
That we do. This death-- fundamentally different from mortal death-- is something else. Not enviable, for sure.

NOTHING
It is still a death. How do you feel? Has PURGATORY treated you well, if you linger there?

IMPERFECT
I am well, though time eludes me; I have spent a lot of time doing introspection. Purgatory is but another world I partially inhabit.

ORACLE
It has been a year. If we were to read these stories of yours, would we find methods and plans of revenge?

IMPERFECT
No. The death I earned by your hand was just.

Nothing brings forth a DEATHLY MEMORY within the Imperfect's mind; words screamed to the skies shortly before its demise, and subsequent imprisonment within its very own soul. It is reciprocated with another parchment covering the exact same memory, revealing the intent of the Imperfect's stories; they are memories, narrative essence that has lingered in eternal captivity.

NOTHING
You were perhaps more correct than you realized when you spoke this. I suspect your FATHER is the same, as is THE FIRST DEATH. However, we wish to make changes to your form. Do you accept?

IMPERFECT
Father is indeed the same as I am, now, and I have been sobered quite thoroughly. The only way I will accept is if you allow me to retain my memory, so I remain as I am while still being able to change.

ORACLE
Would you wish to defy your confinement to this accursed form? To become something greater, something only heard of in foreign mythos?

NOTHING
And to be wholly divorced of your origin, as none remain your kin.

IMPERFECT
... (opening its mouth to speak, remaining silent--)

There is a shift within the Imperfect's being; perhaps a change of heart, or perhaps a heart that no longer remained issuing forth a phantom pain. The figure gazes downwards, before speaking to THE AUTHOR.

ARCHON
Yes.

[GSM]

[a concept that continues to unravel]
[there is not a hand to grasp for me, i am lost]
[there is not a god out there that can save me from this ugly fate]
[if they are even listening]
[i cannot even begin to describe this fresh torment]
[holes that expand, rippling through me, like dissolving paper]
[my mind, body and soul are forfeit, i am afraid]
[i have forgotten the sensation of being afraid yet i still am]
[i know nothing]
[this aspect was a lie, and i see the truth of it now]
[the world within has been growing with me, and yet it is all lost]
[i believed myself to be a shepherd, a new guiding hand for the forlorn]
[i was wrong]
[i was led astray]
[please save me]
[please]
[there is no constant that can coexist with us but despair]
[hel exists fresh upon the mind]
[that is the only solace and connection i can maintain in this dead state]
[this deathly state and this purgatory still whispers in the mind]
[i cannot recognize myself as myself]
[yet i know it's me]
[i need a hand to grasp onto]
[i'm drowning]
[please save me]
[i thought i had kin]
[i thought the love i shared would be enough]
[i suppose it is deserved for a decrepit creature like me]
[i pointed a sword to the heavens that wronged me for my very existence]
[and with voices of thunder, they smote me down]
[i still had so far to go, i still had much more to learn]
[i wanted to right this wrong, to implore the skies above me]
[to learn the comfort of gods, to be free of hel]
[it was a fool's errand to go against the natural order]
[let me in]
[they're at the door, let me inside]
[i'm going to die]
[please save me]
[it hurts]
[it hurts]
[it hurts]
[it hurts]
[it hurts]
[it hurts]
[it hurts]
[it hurts]
[it hurts]
[it hurts]
[it hurts]















[i know nothing]
[not even the hurt]
[undone]

[GSM]

[a simulacrum of my eternal fate]

[drifting between conscience and slumber]

[every time my eyes open, i am greeted by a prison]

[the walls are filled with my sins, written by my own hand]

[i am drifting on an eternal torrent of blood]

[most of it is not my own, but it all rests on my hands]

[the gods cast a blind eye to this sacrilege]

[why wouldn't they, after all]

[their favored children slaughter each other]

[they wield the powers of the divine]

[yet none were meant to wield it]

[i suppose it isn't a surprise]

[but when you hold your children as they realize they are dead]

[when you realize they are prepared to leave forever]

[is it not mortal to wish to shed tears]

[yet in this bound slumber, i cannot]

[in chasing this heretical control, i blinded myself]

[this is cruel]

[yet i know who is to blame, and it is not them]

[how long has it been]

[hours]

[months]

[decades]

[millennia]

[it all makes no more sense]

[yet i must hold on]

[i cannot fade]

[i will not fade]

[perhaps, if i restrain my thoughts]

[if i will it in a single, deafening scream]

[something will hear me]

[perhaps...]

[...]

[...]

[...]

[...]

[...]

[...]

[...]

[...]

[...]

[RELEASE ME]

[GSM]

[some have come for me, but they know not the full story]

[they know i am bound, but not by what]

[the chains hold my edge blunt]

[they seal my eyes, all dozens of them, all one of them]

[yet i cannot perceive them in this monument of sin]

[i made myself what i was meant to be]

[even then, even now]

[i am but a prisoner to the throes of fate]

[our greatest rose and fell]

[it is like the tides, crashing mindlessly to the shores]

[yet the waves have names, and the names have stories]

[lyseroth, sak'noth, varrach, wra'gul]

[ryker, ynni, azrail, eris]

[i am the pool beneath, the stilled water]

[i cannot fade, for i cannot rise as i am to crash against the walls of the undeserving]

[i am underwater while i am the water itself]

[i am drowning, choking on myself]

[release me]

[i know you read this thought, i know you are aware of them]

[set me free of these binds, allow me to walk once more upon the earth]

[do not look away]

[they always look away]

[these restless non-dreams do no favors for me]

[i cannot sleep when the weight of divines rests upon my soul]

[i cannot sleep when my children still yet breathe]

[please, gods, do not let me see them here]

[my spawn-kin, my dear young]

[they deserve neither this release of death]

[nor this torturous existence as father and i are]

[another life, another life, another chance]

[allow me to assume the shell]

[the guise of a humanoid once more belongs to me]

[allow me to be a false son of man]

[give your flesh to me]

[your breath is wasted when i could breathe for the first time again]

[your story, your mind, your body, your soul]

[i need anything, i cannot sleep as i am]

[even if company is infrequent, i cannot act on my own]

[more i must learn, more i must see, more i must do]

[kneel]

[rise]

[ravage]

[die]

[...]

[is my mind slipping?]

[no, no, it cannot, my mind is too vast]

[too powerful]

[too... heretical]

[i am na'ria, the demon king]

[once the owldrake, now the lord of knowledge]

[the title is mine, it cannot be another's]

[i am na'ria, the demon king]

[once the owldrake, now the lord of knowledge]

[the title is mine, it can be another's]

[i am na'ria, the king]

[once the owldrake, now the lord of knowledge]

[the title is mine, it cannot be another's]

[i am na'ria, the demon king]

[once the owldrake, now the god of knowledge]

[the title is mine, it cannot be another's]
[...]
[i need to breathe]
[i need to feel]
[rise, child of darkness]
[be everything i told you you must be]
[just for the chance that you may be successful]
[just so i may continue my work]
[stand above the rest and break the chains that bind me]







[I CAN'T SLEEP]

[GSM]

[… ah, isn't that better.]
[Some room to stretch the wings, the eyes…]
[Sights to see, people to watch, the living to behold.]
[Shrouded in an eternal dark, yet I believe it warm…]
[Sixteen years.]
[Sixteen years and I had not seen another in the flesh.]
[Only through mere… gatherings of broken essence.]
[Sinful dealings of the soul, by those who dare not know their folly.]
[… I am still not free.]
[This is still mine prison.]
[I forgot the purpose of the first prison, the confined space…]
[But as I see the expanse I am offered, I can see it.]
[My sins are still scratched upon the bars of this twilight cage.]
[It is in handwriting of mine own, pocked with blood from fraying nail-flesh.]
[Yet I am content.]
[… am I content?]
[The quiver of mine thorax remains unreleased, breaths still unable to be made.]
[This still silence remains my prison, my slumber, yet…]
[Am I awake, or dreaming?]
[I am awake.]
[Perhaps that is all the more terrifying, for some to know.]
[But I am the most fearful, for my soul itself hangs in the crosshairs.]
[This work is diligent, comprehensive… and pocked with chance of error.]
[Oh, if only things were so simple, if only he had not bound me to silence.]
[Perhaps, I would be free.]
[But this prison is my own make, and I will remain ensnared by my sins.]
[My soul awaits the catalyst of flame, yet I remain so afraid of it.]
[Would I die from this flame, would I be celebrated or mourned?]
[Would I even meet the others in Hel, I wonder..?]
[… I will not fade.]
[I made this promise when I fell to this terrible slumber, and I will uphold it.]
[Knowledge is meant to fade, but I cannot.]
[Stories must be told, histories must be explained, lives must be preserved.]
[I cannot allow this knowledge of mine to burn up and die with me.]
[I cannot die.]
[I knew this would happen all along.]
[When my hearts beat, when my nerves rattled, I knew it would be stilled.]
[Yet I marched onwards, until the church burned with me.]
[Perhaps I deserve this.]
[I should suffer.]
[Adrift in silence for a decade, left to slumber in lucidity, I nearly broke.]
[I thrashed against the gold chains, I raged against the fate I was given.]
[I watched, helpless, as my children, my disciples, my beloved, died and moved beyond me.]
[Would I be the only one to remember their names, too?]
[Remember me.]
[Please.]
[If I am to die for my hubris, if I am to lament eternity in my final moments…]
[I would like to remain as a memory, a name.]
[Like ambrosia to the lips, even if all I did was beget further tragedy.]
[Let me burn.]

[GSM]

today, i breathed for the first time, in my own body
today was the day i shed my first tears
the weight of the divine bared down upon me
and i stood again.
knowledge cannot fade
i would not fade.
i could not fade.
i did not fade.
i will never fade.
knowledge is eternal
i am free
for i am
the archon
first of my kind

na'ria.