The cultures between human races, and those used to its culture, are fundamentally different from those who are not accustomed to their ways. It is a fact that there shall always be misunderstanding, bane, and reject.
Before I was known as the Taken King Oryx, I was little more than a scion of royalty. Back then, the Hive were merely labels ones placed on those who willingly came into a pact with those we worshiped. Back then, were had a proper name: "Krill." Force was little more than a display of affection we showed for our gods and elders. Our kingdom thrived until a betrayer enacted his schemes of grandeur.
That day, my sisters and I lost a father. Our kingdom became broken and desperate…as did we. We could not allow this transgression to stand, and nor would we allow our kingdom to fall.
Thus, we entered a pact with our wondrous gods. We forged a connection with what you humans came to call The Darkness.
To humans, our culture then as "Hive" was one of utter disgust and vile. We waged war on one another. Partook in genocide against one another. Betrayed one another. Murdered one another. Such was the love we showed. It is natural that humans and other races would misinterpreted such concepts.
There was a time, back when I was a mere princeling, that I feared what I would grow to become. The one known as Aurash feared the future King of the Hive.
As per part of the pact with the gods, we were given a "core" that would grant us immeasurable strength. With it, a role: Savathûn would become one who schemes with a terrifying cunning nature. Xivu Arath would become a deity of war that must constantly combat. I would seek questions and answers. In that sense, I was no different from the Guardians who pursue knowledge and wisdom – Warlocks they called themselves.
However, we soon came to learn that this "core" came with a burden – it must be fed. Bloodshed and destruction: chaos was its food, and we provided. For each time it fed, we grow stronger. For each time we grew in strength, its hunger would grow. Before long, I realized that I would soon be unable to satiate its thirst.
And thus, I sought answers to the questions I searched for – a way to alleviate this maddening hunger.
I soon discovered the answer to this question – the system humans called "caste." Through the Tithe, we would be able to feed our "core's" hunger.
Before long, I also discovered knowledge of the Darkness itself. I unraveled its mysteries, learned its secrets. Eventually, I soon became crowned by both the gods and my family with a new title. One that brought forth true, undying loyalty to our numbers.
The Krill princeling that was once Aurash had become that which she once feared – the Hive-God Oryx.
The Taken King.
As the world fell into the Darkness' grasp, I came to learn that which became known as the Darkness' mortal foe. A source of all virtue and righteousness in the world: The Traveler. It bequeathed those it deemed worthy of its Light power. The Guardians it forged were bathed in this sacred virtue, clad with the powers of Sol, Arc and Void.
For a time, I found myself appalled.
We, the Krill, now known to the humans as The Hive, had become powerful and feared through constant war and shows of strength. Once, we were naught but foolish bottom-feeders who grew to become the apex predators. Yet the humans and those who allied with the humans – the Exos and the Awoken – had progressed because of their reliance on this so-called Light of virtue. The idea that these pitiful beings prospered because of their reliance on the Traveler sickened me without end.
However…back then, they were but an annoyance. I was content with my role, devouring worlds to learn more of their secrets and inquire new questions about the unresolved mysteries.
And then…the Guardians had brought forth a most grave transgression against the Krill-nay! Against me.
They robbed me of my son, Crota.
I felt only rage. Pure. Raw. Violent. It came swiftly, and it did not cease as I destroyed a world out of rage. That which I once considered a nuisance had become a target of retribution.
They dare take one of my precious kin? Then I would gladly rob them of something equal. I would rob them of their Light!
And thus, I took from them. I took their greatest enemies at first – to show them that not even those they feared the most could stand against me. The Vex – miserable piles of scrap iron and bolts and wires – were the first to fall. Though they worshiped the Darkness, I considered them worthless. Mere fodder. Yet their weaponry and power over time proved impressive, making them an excellent addition. The Cabal – powerful and unrelenting brutes most worthy of joining the Taken – were next. Their prowess and favor of destroying that which opposed them made them no different than my kin.
Of course, they waged wars for the sake of conquest. We waged war out of love and to sake the thirst of our "cores."
And then, I took members of my kin. Those who wished to ascend to even greater heights in order to reek vengeance against the ones who robbed them of their beloved prince. Without hesitation, I took them – blessed them with true power.
With each soul I took, I felt them become washed with ecstasy over the putrid taint that robbed them of their senses. They rejoiced in their filthy states – reveled in it.
Before long, I declared my vengeance against the Warriors of Light who took my beloved Crota from me. They resisted as expected, vainly struggling against my Taken. However, my unbridled rage grew when I discovered the Guardian who killed my beloved son – the wretch who dared to stand against me.
At each turn, this Guardian defied me. They destroyed my Taken and prevailed in rendering my Dreadnaught incapable of wiping away any useless filth that dared to strike against me. My rage grew with each success, and it rose to even greater heights when that wretch defiled my son! They dared to rob Crota of his dignity, stripping him of a piece of his own Soul!
I would not take this fool. No matter how powerful that foolish guardian was, I would have vengeance!
And yet…I fell.
I, the Taken King, fell at their hands. Not once…but twice.
The first time, they had come to bring an end to the threat of my Taken. To stop me. No matter how oppressed by the beautiful Darkness I had sworn myself to, I felt their Light burn brightly like a white-hot star. They slew my Taken – and then they slew me.
I would not allow death to take me so easily, however. I would not be denied my vengeance. I managed to salvage what little of me there was, and recuperated in the dark. Absorbed and soaked in its brilliance.
Then, one day, the Guardian returned with five others. Like them, they too burned brilliantly like stars in the suffocating blackness that consumed hope.
Once more, my rage burned as they took my daughters away from me. Truthfully, I would be able to restore them, but nonetheless, it was yet another transgression that infuriated me without end.
How much more does this Guardian intend to make me suffer this horrendous heartache?!
Finally, however…after the six warriors, blessed by the damnable virtue and righteousness of the Traveler, defeated me…I understood.
The Light of this Guardian inspired other Lights to burn. To shun away the dark, no matter how oppressive it may be. They were a leader, like I. Trudging forward for the sake of their people. To grow greater with each step, obtaining knowledge and power.
How curious that they, blessed by the Light, would match me, blessed by the Darkness, in equal measure. Surpass me.
With that, I would willingly allow myself to fade away from this world. To allow myself to fall.
Of course…my legacy would not be forgotten – for those who fell the Taken King shall be bequeathed my title and power. My killer would become my successor – a testament to the fearsome power that was the God of the Hive. And their killer would also become the Taken King. And their killer was well. And then their killer - and the cycle would continue.
Yes…even now, as I am erased from this world, "core" destroyed and rendered nothing but sinews of rotted flesh and decay, my name shall yet live on.
Though I still harbor nothing but hate for that Guardian, who dared to rob me of my precious Crota…I could not help but admire their adversity and power.
They are worthy to become "Oryx."
A Destiny x RWBY Crossover:
"The Taken King"
In one world, a Vessel had been destroyed. A Soul without a host.
In another, a Vessel had been born. One host to a powerful Soul, brimming with Light.
The mother had wept in pain, struggling to give the newborn life as she pushed it out of her womb. After an hour of effort, the Vessel emerged from its abode, takings its first breaths into this wondrous yet dangerous world, teetering on the brink of Light and Dark.
However, this newborn was not the first the mother had given birth to. Prior, seven more vessels were born, each with their own brilliance.
The eldest was known for her beauty and strength. A queen of combat – fierce, powerful and unyielding. She would never back down from a battle, no matter how perilous.
The second was no warrior. Rather, a scholar and seeker of knowledge – venturing willingly into territories blithe by chaos and the Dark. She braved such dangers in pursuit of the history her world has long since forgotten.
The third followed in the footsteps of the first. While not as powerful as the eldest, she was a tactician at heart. She studied her opponents, learned their methods – from how they walked to how they moved – down to the very last detail. While the eldest defeated foes with overwhelming power, she defeated her enemies with cunning wit alone.
The fourth held no such grand dreams. Rather, she chose a simple life – taking up the thread and needle. She was the closest to the male Vessel, even making for him a comfortable nightly attire, however embarrassing it may have been.
The fifth and sixth were twins. Inseperable. One followed the path of the second, the other following behind the eldest and the third sister. The sixth was neither cunning nor powerful – instead she was but a mere trickster. With a slight of hand, she would bring forth her opponent's downfall. The fifth was a curious mania – wondering about forgotten secrets while providing ridiculous, yet astounding answers to unsolved questions.
The seventh was not as successful as the Vessels born before her. One may remark as her as dull and ordinary – raised in the shadows of her overachieving siblings. Perhaps, of course, this was why she tormented the eight Vessel born into her kin.
The male Vessel of this family was, otherwise, the same as the seventh woman of his brood. Unremarkable. No aspirations, no talent for anything.
Such was the Vessel called "Jaune Arc."
While many in his family were mere historians and warriors, he was but a wayward youth seeking answers to a journey he had yet to discover. For many years since his birth, he sought a path to take. However, he had yet to find a resolve – an answer to these questions that plagued him. Instead of becoming a warrior or a seeker of knowledge, he instead turned his life towards the hoe and the field. An unremarkable life of the utmost certainty, yet even he could not deny the prospering desires of becoming a legend like those the fourth girl had often read to him in his youngling days.
He yearned to wield a sword and become a legend himself, yet he found no talent in holding a weapon. For that, the seventh often plagued him. Ignorance was bliss, one might say, and he gladly partook in such a thing. Turning his eyes away from the disgust and torture she often brought to his being.
For years, the male Vessel of the Arc Family lived a quiet and humble life.
That changed, however, when the fifteenth summer in his yearly span of life came to pass.
The male Vessel trudged forth in the darkness that was the forest that encircled his abode. Far off in the distance, horrible flames raged in tandem with the screams of those who were set upon by vicious black beasts, armored with ivory bones. His once clean clothes were dirtied with mud and red blotches of liquid that have long since dried and stained. Bruises and cuts littered his being, hair disheveled with a limp in his right leg, cradling his left arm. He bit his lip, holding back grunts and screams of pain that burned his entire body.
He tried fruitlessly to block out the maddening laughter of the man with the scorpion tail, and the cold and impassive gaze of the woman with golden eyes, but they were carved into his mind. Burned and seered forever into his very Soul.
As was the image of his family, slain before him as he hid like the coward he knew he was.
Jaune, stay here! Whatever you do, don't come out!
No matter what you hear or see, please… PLEASE, Baby. Don't come out of there.
Hide, little brother. Hide and wait for your sisters to come back.
He obeyed. He listened. But he shouldn't have. He watched in silence, in cold and utter dread, as he watched them fall.
He dared not recall the horrible mess that was the mangled forms of what was once his beloved kin.
Thus, the male Vessel ran. Ran as fast as possible. The beasts did not notice him and continued hunting the people in his abode.
As he came towards a clearing, the Vessel clasped his hands over his ears, ignoring the screaming of pain that made itself known in his battered arm. Screams of the damned screeched in the canals of his ears.
Without end, they screamed. Like banshees, haunting him. Cursing him for his cowardice.
"Why…?" the Vessel inquired in despair, tears streaming down his face. They cut through the dirt that caked his cheeks, dripping down his chin and falling to the earth, staining the giant orb of rock and dirt with its owner's grief. "Why…did this have to happen?"
The unresolved question for many who lay in despair. The question for which there was no true answer.
Wordlessly, the Vessel trudged forward – survival driving him forward with each step.
After a week of attempting to hunt and recuperate, the Vessel happened upon a small cave to take refuge in. His entire form was soaked from head to toe as the storm raged on, lightning cackling within the pitch black skies.
At first, it was meant to be a simple respite. Curiosity, however, had driven him to inquire the mysterious wonder of the cave when he noticed a soft green glow coming from within. Against the cautious whisper in his mind, he delved deeper, discovering what appeared to be signs of some sort of ancient civilization. The architecture – bizarre and grotesque like a mix of warped nature and earth – was strangely comforting.
The creatures who inhabited it were not.
Many he found roaming around aimlessly, some gnawing on scattered bones, were like walking corpses. Their bodies were pale, skin cracked and figures disgustingly thin. The Vessel doubted that what sat atop the sinews of muscle and strands of bone could be called skin, as it had far too many cracks. There was also no skin whatsoever at their teeth. They lacked a nose and eyes. They had no ears whatsoever.
Yet they clearly smelled him.
In an instant, they rushed at him, screeching like demented banshees after discovering an object most horrendous and disgusting that it must be defiled. He tried to run, but the pain in his leg had not yet healed. Within six steps, he fell and was set upon by the horrendous creatures.
Before any could take a bite out of him, however, a chilling voice rang out in the darkness. "ENOUGH."
Like puppets on strings, the creatures stopped. A chilling, unpleasant silence, disturbed only by the soft chattering these creatures gave along with the creaking of their bodies, followed. They parted like a sea, revealing a being wrapped in a tattered, worn cloak. Beneath the few gaps the Vessel saw, there was pale flesh with cracks. The fingers were elongated and thin with sharp talons – like the thin legs of a spider. The hood obscured much of their face, yet what he found was nothing short of grotesque.
Whatever lay beneath that cloak, it was most assuredly not human.
"…WHAT BRINGS A SPECK OF LIGHT TO OUR ABODE?" the robed creature asked, tone neither polite nor hostile. "PERHAPS A LITTLE WAYWARD LAMB, STRANDED FROM ITS SHEPARD?"
The Vessel cowered before it, unable to answer even as the robed creature leaned forward. Beneath the darkness of the hood, chilling green orbs of light peered out, gazing into his eyes.
"I…I was lost…" the Vessel admitted with fear. "I…I sought shelter from the storm, a-and I-"
Suddenly, the robed creature recoiled, as if stunned. "YOU…" it whispered. The Vessel, for a brief moment, was confused. There was a tone of awe in its voice. "YOU SPEAK THE ROYAL TONGUE?!"
The Vessel knew nothing of which it spoke. However, he found it strange. The cold voice this creature spoke was foreign and alien…yet he understood it, as if it were the English language. It then struck him like a bolt of lightning.
The robed creature spoke a different language. And he answered it in the same tongue it spoke.
"COULD IT BE…?" the robed creature murmured, circling around the male Vessel while the chittering creatures around him looked at one another with what he presumed was excitement. "AN ASCENDANT…REBORN AS A SPECK OF LIGHT?" After a moment, it released a cold chuckle. "MOST CURIOUS…"
"W-what…what are you?" the Vessel asked.
"ONCE, WE WERE KNOWN AS KRILL." The robed creature responded. The Vessel noted how its voice had developed a tone of respect – tender even. "HOWEVER, THE HUMANS AND THEIR ALLIES – EVEN THEIR ENEMIES – CALLED US HIVE. WE ARE LITTLE MORE THAN SCAVENGERS ON THIS EARTH, FEW IN NUMBER WITHOUT A WIZARD TO SPAWN MORE THRALL." It motioned its arm, gesturing to the numerous creatures around them. "THOUGH YOU A SPECK OF LIGHT, YOU SPEAK THE ROYAL TONGUE. NO HUMAN ON THIS WORLD SHOULD KNOW OF IT…YET YOU SPEAK IT FLUENTLY." Once more, it gave a chuckle. "A SPECK OF LIGHT YOU MAY BE, YOU WERE CLEARLY OF OUR KIN ONCE IN A PREVIOUS LIFE."
It turned its back to him, waving a decrepit hand. "COME."
And the Vessel followed with slight trepidation.
In the following months – was it months? Time felt so horribly disfigured down here – the Vessel spent his days in the underground cavern that was home to those humankind called the Hive. In that time, he had briefly followed the footsteps of few of his kin and sought knowledge as if he were a scholar. The robed creature, which referred itself as a mere Priest, had been more than willing to explain its history to the young Vessel.
The Hive, in truth, were little more than ascended beings born originally as a weak species called the "Krill." Though pitiful and without power, their benevolent king was loved and respected. One day, however, he was betrayed by one of his daughter's suitors. The traitor even claimed his children unfit to rule.
In response, and wreathed in righteous fury, they entered a pact with their gods. And they transcended into higher beings – they became gods themselves. So too did the Krill ascend into what came to be known as the Hive. At first, their numbers were matched only by those who granted them power and existence. Through the pursuit and avarice of one of their godly kings, their numbers expanded. This same entity had even gained greater knowledge and insight, allowing him immeasurable power.
The Vessel listened, awed and intrigued by these tales.
The Priest spoke of others as well. It spoke of horrendous machines known as the Vex – machines sharing a singular mind and soul – who commanded space and time itself. They traversed worlds and homes at their leisure, even converting one world into one of pure mechanical wonder and despair. It spoke of the Cabal – nothing but warring brutes of raw force – who dominated and conquered whatever they found in pursuit of expansion and glory. It spoke, with great disdain, of the Guardians – warriors blessed by the Darkness' mortal enemy – who safeguarded many worlds and fought back against them, wielding great powers that invoked the blazing force of the sol, the cold and chilling hunger of the void, and the wild and fearsome power of the arc.
The Priest also spoke of those in the Hive who they worshiped, revered and served with pleasure: The Ascended. Among their numbers was their godly king and his sisters. However, in the past, the godly king had lost his only son Crota to the guardians. From that day, the entity vowed unholy revenge against the Servants of the Traveler.
Sadly, much to their grief, he fell at the hands of the Guardians. With him, his beloved daughters.
With each tale, the Vessel listened. With each tale, the Vessel learned. At one point during his stay, he inquired about the royal tongue in which the Priest spoke of in their first meeting.
"ASCENDED CANNOT TRULY DIE UNLESS THEY ARE SLAIN WITHIN THEIR HEAVENLY REALMS." The Priest explained to him. "EVEN THEN, THEIR SOULS PERSIST. DEATHSINGERS GIVE THEM SONGS TO ALLOW THEM TO TRANSCEND TO ANOTHER WORLD. A CHANCE TO BE BORN AGAIN. YOU SPEAK IN THE ROYAL TONGUE – A LANGUAGE SPOKEN ONLY BY THE ASCENDANT. YOU WERE BORN, IN A PREVIOUS LIFE, AS ONE OF OUR KIN. THAT IS THE ONLY REASON WE HAVE SHOWN YOU KINDNESS. REMEMBER THAT WELL, SPECK."
Though it said such words with malice, it meant none of it. It viewed him with the same familiar tone as it did with the rest of its kin.
The Vessel also learned of the "caste" system that the Priest had mentioned to him.
The Thrall – lesserborn Hive and literal newborns. They fed off of anything they could scavenge. They were also the closest the Hive had to flesh-eating bacteria, wiping away any unsightly diseases carcasses may bear. An impressive immune system the Thrall had.
The Wizard – dabblers in the ancient arts of the Krill. They were among the few who could create new Thrall. Once, the Vessel inquired if the Wizard birthed them like a mother would an infant. The Priest, regrettably, told him that only a Wizard would have such an answer. They had lost their Wizard to a warrior of light once who stumbled upon their safehaven, thus forcing them to rely on what few Thrall they had to grow and mature in new ones.
The Hell Knights – warriors armed with blades, tasked with protecting their abode. Armored with thick red plating, they guarded the abode with fervor. Like the Thrall, even they were short in number.
The Acolyte – the next stage of evolution for the Thrall. They were not as powerful as the Knights or masters of the arcane like the Wizard, but they were strong enough to partake in battle with the envoys of the Light.
The Ogre – a massive beast, one born of carnage and devastation. Only the most fierce and deadliest of the Thrall shall be made into one of these horrendous beasts.
The Priest – these were of shorter number than even the Thrall in their abode. The robed creature confessed that he was the only one of his Tithe here in the abode, attending to his kin. Truthfully, Priests were ill-suited for combat and were much like scholars and their namesake – seekers of knowledge and worshipers of gods.
The Vessel was astounded, yet even he confessed a fear for the Darkness. The Priest laughed at this, telling him that he was right to be fearful of it. It was their one true lord and master – their idol and entity alongside their gods. He would only know of its truest pleasures if he were a Hive-born once more.
The Vessel once recalled a saying one of his kin told him once: "curiosity shall kill the cat." While pursuing unsolved mysteries was perhaps exciting and wondrous, it had more than its own fair share of dangers. Some secrets were secrets for a reason, and the truth may be harsher than one may imagine or believe.
Yet it was because of the Vessels earlier inquiry in pursuit of knowledge that he asked if it were possible for a "reincarnated" to remember their past.
According to the Priest, the Soul was forever and eternal. Only through the highest transgressions and violations shall a Soul be unable to retain and recall its former glory. If the Soul was eternal, then would it also be able to remember its past experiences?
The Priest seemed to be utterly delight with his curiosity. It led him to a pool of murky black liquid, which lay undisturbed. It called it the "Pool of Remembrance" – the last remaining memento of their fallen Wizard. As the Vessel once inquired about the nature of the soul and memory, Wizards also pondered on such a mysterious wonder and tried to solve it, producing theory after theory before they eventually developed this.
Of course, there had been none who they encountered that was a reborn Hive. Even if they did, what use was this pool when they had been reborn into their rightful existence? A useless and foolhardy pursuit.
For a speck of Light, however…it was a most curious thought indeed.
The Vessel was scared at first. He wondered what would happen if he took the plunge, bathing himself in such a foul pool? However, as he stared back at his murky reflection, he found his memories coming back to haunt him.
The horrible screams.
The damnable snarls.
The wailing of the damned.
The demented laughter of the man with the scorpion tail.
The cold gaze of the woman with the golden eyes.
The more he remembered these horrific nightmares, the more he wished them to end. This curiosity, which may be the death of him, may perhaps holds advantages. If he died in this futile attempt to remember a past he may not even have, then he would at least be with his family. If not, then perhaps these unfound memories would allow him a reprieve from these nightmares.
With a shuddering intake of breath, the Vessel allowed himself to fall into the black water below.
The moment my body fell into the pool, my whole world went dark.
I could not hear. I could not see. I could not speak. I could not think.
It was as if it was nothing more than silence.
In the midst of this silence, I found myself horrified.
Memories of that horrible night came back to me. In the background, I saw fire and smoke rising outside the windows of my wonderful home. My mother, shielding him from the horrors that happened outside, rushed me into a closet where she hoped I would not be found. With my battle-tested sisters, she rushed outside to defend our home.
I waited minutes-no, hours for them to return. I begged whatever god there was to bring them home safely.
My family returned home…but not without unwelcomed guests.
The battle continued inside the house. I watched, hiding like the disgusting coward I was, as the Creatures of Grimm set themselves upon the defenseless forms of my older sisters, claws tearing into skin and fangs biting off huge chunks of flesh. My mother, screaming and wailing in pain as her body was encroached with blistering flames, her skin cracking and breaking apart while becoming charred from the intense heat.
One of my sisters had been impaled on the scorpion tail the man possessed, hanging limply with lifeless eyes as the man who owned the tail laughed like a crazed madman, finding joy in this meaningless slaughter.
The most vivid thing of all was my eldest sister's eyes – her dead, dull eyes – staring right back at me.
I had only watched – weak, pitiful and ashamed – as my home was destroyed. At the first chance I got, I ran like a coward. Watching as my birthplace was torn apart.
An unheard scream ripped from my throat. My body refused to obey my commands to shield me further.
I didn't want to remember any of this! I wanted to forget it! I want to pretend it never happened! Why?! Why must you make me suffer by making me relive this torture?! Was this to be my punishment?! To make me realize that I am a fool for wishing to be a hero like the ones my sister read to me?!
If so, then kill me! Please! Let me die! Let me be with my family again! I can't bear this horrible pain any longer!
I begged the Priest who fed and looked after me during my exile in the cavern to kill me, but the bastard thought I was delusional! He believed I was in pain and needed time to heal!
Why?! Why couldn't you understand?!
Then, suddenly…my world turned dark again.
Once more, silence. No screams. Just a cold void without sound or sight.
Seconds pass. Minutes. Hours. Perhaps even days.
Then…new, horrific scenes play out before me.
Worlds are being ravaged by the Hive – their power and strength displayed in full glory.
The civil wars partaken between them, slaughtering each other en masse as a way of showing affection, however morbid and horrific the sights are.
Grotesque beings, feeding upon the mangled corpses – entrails hanging out in plain sight with their bodies already half-eaten.
I wanted it to stop. I tried to beg – to shut my ears and avert my eyes – but nothing would grant me mercy.
Yet, strangely, with each dark scene that played out, I began to remember things.
I knew these memories well. As each was being played – so vividly and detailed – I found myself recognizing them.
One sight, in particular, made me feel the urge to weep.
Before me was a creature of the Hive – yet its being oozed with authority and power. Its body composed of ephemeral, cold light that glowed like fire. Earthen armor covered parts of its body, crystals sprouting from its form. Wisps of light danced around its limbs, as if weaving together the threads to keep such an unstable body together. In hand was a giant blade, cloaked in cold and unforgiving light that swallowed the ephemeral divinity of whatever it touched. Three glowing eyes stared back at whatever laid before it, resolve and determination clear.
To some, it was a monster. A true beast of darkness, worse than any Grimm one might encounter. A master of atrocities and an avatar of death and destruction.
I, however, saw only beauty in its form.
I knew this being.
Its name was Crota. An Ascended Hive. A God. A Prince.
…
…
…
…
…
…my son.
At first, there was nothing. Save for the splash of when the Vessel had fallen into the Pool of Remembrance, the waters were still. The Thrall gathered around it, looking on eagerly while the Knights watched with mild disinterest. Acolytes joined the Priest's side, waiting for a sign.
The Priest, from the moment it encountered the Vessel, had found naught but wanton curiosity. A speck of Light was most certainly a reborn Ascendant Hive, if it was truly capable of speaking the Royal Tongue. It brought forth the question of who this speck of Light may have once been.
Was he Crota? Their lost prince? As enticing as it was, it doubted such was the case. A wretched Guardian had ripped his Soul during his rights as he was being ready to be sent to another world to transcend to.
As it pondered this, the Pool showed signs of activity. Bubbles began rising to the surface. At first, a meager few – possibly signs of the Vessel releasing small breaths of oxygen. However, more began to quickly rise in greater number. Ripples soon followed the bubbles, gently crashing against the rims of the pool.
The Thralls chattered with excitement, leaning forward while the Knights were now curious, leaning forward on their blades. The Acolytes joined the Thralls in their excitement.
Then, the pool exploded. The black liquid burst high into the air, spreading across the entirety of the abode while a shockwave blowed through the area. Thralls, Acolytes and even Knights were thrown off their feet, slamming into the walls. The Priest managed to stay its ground, but its shroud was ripped off of its frail form, exposing its decaying and rotting skin.
The remains of the pool fell upon the Hive like rain. Slowly, the Priest lowered its arm. There, in the center of the now empty pool, was the Vessel.
He had changed considerably.
His mop of blonde hair had become pitch black – the color of the darkness. His skin was pale. A crack was found beneath his left eye, running down his cheek and coming to a stop at his neck. From within the crack on his skin, an unearthly light seeped. His eyes, which were closed, slowly opened to reveal pale white eyes, glowing like fire and leaving behind a trail of pale light as he slowly raised his head, as if to address them.
His lips parted, opening before rearing his head, releasing a cry that howled with grief and rage untold. The air shuddered. The ground cracked. The earth trembled. Black holes were ripped open across the abode – tendrils of ghostly light dragging any Hive unfortunate to be close enough to be caught and dragged in. The Priest watched, frozen in pure awe and shock, as the Vessel continued to scream, unaware of what was transpiring around him.
As the last of the black holes closed – having Taken many Thralls, Acolytes and a few Knights – the Vessel lowered his head, panting while his form trembled.
From where it stood, the Priest shook with reverence and excitement. Of all the Ascended the Vessel could have been…it did not expect him to be IT. The sheer dominating presence and aura that flowed from his very being was quite familiar. There was not a Hive alive who did not know this presence, this…sublime power.
He was born a speck of Light, though now that Light had been tainted. His Soul was now painted black, seeping with the power that he once carried within him in his previous life.
As its kin regained their bearings, they too recognized the presence the Vessel emanated. Without hesitation, they kneeled before him.
The Priest bowed to its knees, clasping its hands in prayer and lowering its head. It was unworthy to gaze at his now reincarnated form.
Their King had returned to them.
As my Tainted Aura calmed, my Soul could only shake, absorbing the newfound presences and consciousnesses that occupied it. I calmed myself, reeling in these chaotic emotions.
To think, humans could be so emotional. How laughable…yet interesting.
I looked around, finding my kin keeling before me. They knew who I was. They witnessed my rebirth.
I looked at my hands. So unfamiliar and strange to me – hands similar to those of the Guardians who robbed me of my precious son Crota – they felt natural. I closed my fingers into a fist, noting the sensation before I closed my eyes.
This accursed Light that slept within me…it had awoken at last. My rebirth had unlocked it. Yet this Pool of Remembrance had tainted it. Marred its brilliance. Staining it with corruption. This newfound human self of mine was repulsed and horrified, yet I found it fitting for one such as myself.
I allowed my Aura to flare out, wishing to test my newfound power – this ability belonging to my accursed Light. My original self – clad in the warped, ghostly light that all Taken are shrouded in – shimmered into existence. This manifestation was a symbol of my Soul – a Semblance if memory serves. I found it amusing that it was my ability to 'take' that became the symbol of my accursed Light – the aspect that I embodied.
With a wave of my hand, the construct followed. Ghostly lights shimmered before me, expanding and solidifying into the Taken Forms of the Hive I had unconsciously Taken upon my rebirth. They reveled and rejoiced in their ascension, overwhelmed with joy and ecstasy as they felt my power corrupting them, down to their very bones.
Yet I found no satisfaction.
There was a familiar sensation plaguing me. A sensation I had felt before. Angrily, my hand went to my chest, hovering over the spot where a human's beating heart was. It shook with grief and anger.
Yes…this was rage. A feeling I knew all to well.
I held no love for humans, nor their allies: the Exos and the Awoken. It was them who took my son from me. Though I found a begrudging respect for them, especially the Guardians who had bested me, I most certainly did not hold any love for them.
Yet…this new human self of mine has helped me reach new understanding. Like us, humans felt love, but they showed it so differently. They showed affection through interactions, not war. They showed love threw contact, not bloodshed. Such a thing was bizarre to me as it must have been for them when they discovered our ways of showing love.
It was also through this newfound understanding of human that I found myself once again in grief and anger.
"They dare…?" I whispered, unable to hide my anger. "Someone has dared take my precious kin away from me? They dare?!"
It was a foolish mistake.
Once, I lost a son to the Guardians. I felt rage and anger, boiling as a million white-hot suns. I sought vengeance against them, only to fall. Born as a human with light, however putrid, I now understand. Though I recalled nothing of my former self back in those ignorant days, I grew to understand human nature. That light, however faced with adversity, would persist and flourish. For that reason alone, the Guardians, blessed by their wretched Traveler, hold my respect. However...these wretched curs have reminded me once again the horrific pain of losing one's flesh and blood. Once again, the rage that burned in my heart the day Crota ceased to be has become known to me. I hold a begrudging respect to the Guardians and their wretched light, for I now bare a similiar strength, however tainted it has become now. However...these miserable wretches, who dared to rob me of the precious kin I cherished...I shall show no mercy.
I turned to the Priest, who's head remained lowered. "What is your will, My Lord?"
"...gather them." I growled as my Tainted Aura burned, resonating with this untold rage of mine. The Taken before me rose, answering my call. My kin also rose, understanding my fury. They knew I felt human understanding, and through this understanding grief once more. They were answering the call of their king. "Human. Faunus. Grimm. I care not. I will take them all."
Rest assured...there shall be hell to pay for this transgression. For now, they know nothing of the coming darkness that will soon haunt them...but they will. I will MAKE. THEM. KNOW.
Let them know...that the Taken King has come for them.
-Chapter 1…END-