Here is fourth chapter! From here AU and original elements start. Fey folklore fascinates me, particularly soulless aspect. It is so fun to employ it in heavily spiritual stories. My fey are sort of eldritch abominations, existing in void without soul, time, matter or anything that exists in our world. They cannot lie and must fulfill every promise they make, and everything must be equal, as well as always be polite. They aid or hinder nature forces and concepts depending on what they promised. Basically, they are like artists- they copy things from our world, use symbols to create beauty and spread opinions. Only they are also reality warpers.
Void Queen is one of four Monarchs ( of what we call Seelie Court). It literally has no personal desires or emotions, and possibly it doesn't have opinions. However, it always respects rules, so even if it is omnipotent, it won't use powers if rules demand otherwise. It never cheats ( but it does find loopholes everywhere).
SoF's opinion of what would happen were fey released may or may not be correct. He is working off his own, subjective and biased perspective. he also doesn't really pay attention to names.
I decided to use different styles of formating to show madness of Faerie. I'm not sure if it works for Void Queen's speech- it was supposed to look same as narration but different fon, but font didn't translate in doc. may change it.
Read, enjoy and review!
This is Faery. State of utter oblivion. Void that exists outside progenitor, soulless and formless. Nothing that exists in their homeworld- space, time, life, death, earth, water, air, lighting and he himself- is present here. Not even ideas dwell here. Mercy and compassion, war and hatred, those things cannot grow here. Nothing can grow here.
Once, long ago, those that performed great crimes against reality or broke greatest of oats would be sent to Faery. World that was completely alien to whole of existence, that had nothing in similar with it. Those banished there would be frozen, stopped in time and place, unable to move, to think, as past and future became one. Not alive but not dead, only forever trapped.
What irony it was, Spirit of Fire thought, that they, who fought so hard to save the world, would end up here, where world's enemies and oath breakers were banished. even more so that he, who was fifth of world, would be condemned to this fate.
/Universe echoes as Progenitor speaks and he emerges from first fusion of helium and hydrogen, shining upon darkness and banishing cold. Day arrives at first of planets and seeds of life are planted on it. The first star, first Sun is born. He is everywhere. Here, he and sibling earth are one. They are magma, and they are shaping themselves. Soon, he will weaken and earth will be solid again. This new planet will be very special, they know it. Their masterpiece.
Pain coursed through them. Blue blade was cold as winter wind, hard as diamond and sharp as scary itako's tongue. Oversoul, so powerful that it was completely solid, cut right through flesh and spirit. /Not even ideas dwell here. Mercy and compassion, war and hatred, those things cannot grow here. Nothing can grow there is master. But there isn't good enough adverb, because far and near don't exist here, in this... '' place'' that is neither small nor big. Master is...somewhere around him, looking exactly same as he looked moments before he was sucked here. Limbs and head and hair placed same way, clothes crumpled same way, expression of surprise and fatigue frozen on his face.
Would be frozen, stopped in time and place, unable to move, to think, as past and future became one. Not alive but not dead, only forever trapped. /It is easy, for he has many aspects, and light is one of it. He can take this form easily, can fool those stupid mortals. Enemy arises once more, grand and hungry, and Spirit of Fire pulls, pulls towards stars that are his children and his sibling and himself. For moment he stands, but master's panicked voice, master's will is too strong and he reaches out, roars and lets power, lets himself flow through fragile body, for he is life and growth and only he can help now./
It is starting already. Ancient memories and visions of futures that could have been are swirling through him, smashing and melding into one, ripping him apart. He doesn't know what would be worse- to be rendered mindless or driven mad. To be frozen as master or be left self-aware.
It is so lonely here. In their world, you at least knew there were others like you. Mortals and lesser spirits could enjoy him and his siblings. And he could cherish being one with them, mixing with Rain to become steam, with Earth to become magma, with Wind to form warm currents, with Lighting when they struck a tree. And always, always he could feel bonds he shared with Progenitor, always he could feel eternal song of Great Spirits.
But now even that was gone. Banished, without possibility of return, into invisible, silent void.
At least there are none of Them. Mad, soulless abominations that were complete antithesis to them, to nature and existence. Things that called this world home, formed incomprehensible shapes and forms, beauty and terror made one. Beings that often turned their sight upon reality, mimicked it, painted portraits of it as artists did. Magnified, twisted portrayals, their insane attempts to comprehend fire and his siblings.
They stalked all of worlds, bargaining and promising. Hard but fair, such was Their way, all had to be equal. Your greatest wish could be granted at expense of what you treasured the most. They never lied ( they couldn't, so were they made) but They could twist words and trick you into promising something even if you wanted something completely else, could find loopholes in any agreement. And those bargains, those promises were all They cared about, for they defined Them. In that sense, They were similar to fire and his siblings.
Were they awake, They would swarm them, desperate to fulfill Their promise, to make oath breakers pay - for why else would he and master be banished here? Others would descend, ready to consume their souls, while third would fight till Their end in order to fulfill some nonsensical promise-such as kill everybody who is near light or extinguish every fire you see or turn everybody with brown hair in toad.
They weren't bad, of course. Rather polite lot and nice guests. But headache to deal with when They got word to fulfill. And very dangerous for humans, which is why one of previous Shaman Kings sealed them away .
Gentry. Fair Folk. Lords And Ladies. They Who Are (Of) Void. Arbiters of Oaths.
Ones who never forgot and always repaid debts. Favors or insults, it doesn't matter. Debt must be paid.
They are sealed, denied entrance to reality, Their own world boarded and closed. Insult to whole of Their kind. Were They awake, They would rush forward, drawn by need to balance out debt. They wouldn't be vengeful, or angry, or malicious. They would simply repay everything, every single one of Their countless hordes, because that was what They were.
There would be no mercy, for They knew nothing of it. Here was component of world that denied Them, important part of Great Spirits who set barriers, being derived from Progenitor, who were one with Shaman King that sealed Them. And with him, one of mortals ( though master didn't really fit definition well, too driven and powerful and in tune with spirit world to be mere shaman, too solid and free and living to be spirit) for whose sake They were sealed. Everything was clear. Even if Spirit of Fire somehow explained their situation, They would still rip them apart, then put them together and give to next abomination in line... And then they would move on rest of reality...
But they were sealed, sleeping and unmoving, trapped inside Their own insane minds, chained by Their incomprehensible thoughts. Unable to act, to feel, only to dream.
There was... sensation. It started slow, small, like waves in puddle, but it grew and grew, moving desperately, as if very power of oblivion was trying to escape. Something like vibration that coursed through entire lack that was this world, as if emptiness itself was moving, preparing for arrival of something great and powerful, something dangerous.
And then it came out of nowhere, appearing as if it was always there. Quieter than silence, emptier than void, more unmoving than stasis itself. It wasn't person, being, wasn't thing, force. It was existence, state, ancient beyond age and strong beyond power. Bottomless and limitless, eternal and unending it was.
It was old, old and powerful beyond Spirit of Fire's comprehension. It existed before him, before Faery, before Progenitor created first souls, before any world and any creature. Peer of Progenitor, it had no beginning and would have no end. It could create, could destroy, could do impossible, unlimited by logic and reason.
But it was nothing like Progenitor. Progenitor's power was soft and comforting, caress of caring, aged parent who just sat and watched their children grow. It made Spirit of fire grateful, made him feel safe and valued, aware of all things and their connection to each other. But before this, this horror, he felt nothing but crushing loneliness, nothing but knowledge that he was small, so young that it was indescribable, utterly powerless and meaningless.
This existence cared nothing for him. It noticed him, as it noticed everything, and all was met with same lack of interest, of acknowledgement. It needed nothing, so it had no desire for anything. It didn't experience emotion, didn't have goals or hopes. It didn't dream, didn't feel. Neither content nor wandering, it simply was, all-knowing and empty.
He knew it, from those rare days when it bargained and treated with Great Spirits, when it would come, driven by duty and promise it didn't care for, following it's people in creation, allying or fighting against Progenitor. Obeying laws, helping it's people, being polite simply because it didn't care enough to defy them.
Fourth reigning Monarch. Creator of fey. The God slayer. The empty thing.
Void Queen.
Pain, phantom pain that filled his entire soul stopped. Memories and visions stopped. And he realized that second has passed, that he could feel time rolling, passing.
And then there was his image. Colors and shine of polar lights filled newborn space, but it wasn't true light, wasn't part of him. No soul, no power. It was simply portrait, copy of him, bearing his shape and form but having no true substance, no power that coursed through him, hollow and thin copy.
There was distance, void, round space surrounded by ''light''. And on edge of hollows space was master, lying, still frozen. Spirit of Fire dashed, flew towards master, but it was useless. No matter how much he flew, no matter how little distance seemed to be between them- always few meters- he couldn't get near. There was always more distance to cross.
Why are you here?
Words- in all languages, some dead before stars began, some not yet born, and their bare meaning appeared in his mind. There was no sound, no emotion. Just pure, naked fact.
You are not banished. You have not broken your word. Even if you have, Shaman Kings would have attempted to save you. They would not sacrifice Godaiserei. Not to us. Not to me.
Spirit of Fire simply stared, stared at presence from which void run. In Faery, it knew all, as did Progenitor, and it could gaze forward into Great Spirits, as could they. But it was hard, for they blocked each other. It felt no need to take information from his mind, as it felt no need for everything. It knew that eventually he would answer. He had no choice.
I apologize. You are not used to communication without form. I will remedy that.
And then it took form. Of shape and color that didn't exist in their world. Organs he has never seen. Only familiar things were fangs, claws and countless eyes ( though it had no mouth, no paws or limbs, no head), each pupil bigger than universe. It was masterpiece, how real and magnificent it seemed, how perfectly terrible it's body was. Spirit of Fire almost wished it remained disembodied. he said nothing, just kept head down.
Have you wandered in my kingdom, fire? Are you seeking refuge? Or are you on mission, spy to steal my secrets?
Secrets. Insane, eldritch knowledge. Mysteries that would drive even gods insane. Even fey it ruled didn't dare think of those insanities. Progenitor had no intention of glimpsing those secrets. But Void Queen always took care that nobody steals them, for sake of promise carelessly made to somebody long since gone.
Tell me. I have made my world and form obedient to your norms. This is how you can repay me.
Immediately, memories poured out of him. Hiding away on distant planet. Healing master. Fight against land god. Hole in reality. Being sucked into Faery.
Master immediately appeared in front of him, placed between him and Void Queen. Spirit of Fire moved, placing himself in front, shielding master with his oversoul.
He mastered the pentagram? All aspects? Even generating cycle? He is your master, capable of binding you though he isn't your Warrior?
Slowly, Spirit of Fire nods.
What else can he do?
For moment he hesitates, then answers. He shows it, master's power.
Demons, small and clawed imps, sickly green and purple red, surround them in circle. They are small and weak, but fast and numerous. But master isn't afraid.
'' Let us pass.'' They stop snarling, his will their law, lower claws and close jaws. Their eyes lack shine and they part, predators turned servants. Not a bit of furyoku wasted, not single spell used.
Master fights against lords of hell, all seventy and five. Blades of reiryoku clash, beams of pure power fired as armies of demons tear each other to bits and pieces. They strike against master, shadow and ruin and death, but he answers, answers with him and earth and metal and water and wood. In the end he wins and ascends from Great Spirits, stating time and place of his next birth.
So he managed to master Taizan Fukun no Sai. And he commands demons. How old is he?
Time goes and goes. Days become like seconds, months like minutes. Years are meaningless, decades pass as months. Centuries roll and before he notices, thousand years have passed.
So young. But accomplished so much.
Spirit of Fire couldn't comment. Master was indeed young, compared to two of them. But that didn't make him naive or inexperienced. Spirit of Fire was old as time, but sentient only for five centuries. In sense, master was older than he.
Not that it mattered much to Void Queen. Compared to it, everything save for Progenitor was young.
May I gaze upon your memories, child?
He shook, mouth opened wide and back straight as arrow, claws gripping each other. To allow it to enter his mind, to comb through his memories... It wouldn't take any, or edit them- it would be impolite. But accidentally driving him insane, as he was exposed to it's power... It wouldn't be first time something like that happened.
Then again, it appeared that it was- well not interested, but focused on talking. And driving person you are having conversation with could be interpreted as breach of etiquette... So he nodded.
Second passed and it spoke again. He can command you, but he also secured your loyalty. Wise of him. And naive of Shaman Kings, to assume that you would not turn against them, when they gave so much freedom to one species. When shamans started to grow thin and fail in their purpose. It was obvious that some would turn to vengeance. That you would ally with them.
But he is more than simple shaman. Sea storm in body of flesh and blood. Not fully man but not truly spirit. I see why you would keep him safe. Even if he were enemy of yours, it would be waste to destroy something so extraordinary.
But two of you have made yourselves enemies of Great Spirits. You attacked Holy Ground of Stars. He attempted to become Shaman King without winning tournament. You consumed part of Great Spirits. Obvious outcome of allowing mortals chance to claim such power. But still crime. Soon they will locate you. They will come, seeking to take take away your mind, condemn him to deepest pits of Hell. When they do, I will allow them to take you.
What? He exploded, burned with remaining power, his maws wide and roaring as he madly gestured with his arms, green eyes shining and spinning. Panic and rage flew towards him, pushing towards Queen like mighty gale, but it remained, unmoving and uncaring.
He should have stopped. For such outburst some other creature of this world would have tried to eat him. It was too high risk- he was weak and Queen was powerful beyond imagining, and in it's own place of power. But he pushed.
Why? He knew nothing mattered to it, he heard legends of course. But why would it aid in the unjust torture, why would it help Shaman Kings to condemn rest of world to help humanity?
You have broken rules of their tournament. They have right to demand you. I have no right to help you, no duty to aid you, no need to keep you safe. You hold no connection to me. You have no use.
It did make sense. Horrible, terrible , cold sense. But it also showed him way. Void Queen was empty, but it followed rules. It was still fey. It would respect bargain even if it didn't care for terms or prize.
He pushed into his memories, combing through lifetimes, seeking treasured details.
Words. All words he ever heard, spoken by so many, in countless languages. He took them took words and sounds and meanings and threw them back to Queen.
''What ako nos renderemo schnäppchen?'' What if we make a bargain?
What would you bargain for, child?
Keep him safe, he said, in Persian and Japanese and Ancient Greek. Heal his body, protect his mind from interference of your world and Great Spirit's meddling. Keep them from taking his soul, keep everybody from taking his soul, even yourself.
So he said, in languages of Heaven and hell, languages of Earth and other planets, all languages he ever heard. Words were painful to hear, even more painful to produce, leaving him feel as if whole might of cold and dark was set against him. He felt as if oversoul was going to shatter, to dissipate. Such sentence, all those different structures and grammars clashing were horrible sacrilege, rape of languages. But he went on until he finished.
Don't attempt to manipulate him, let his will and emotion remain free. Hide his presence, let him live, let him choose. Don't change him unless he asks, let him remain here if he wishes so but let him go if he doesn't, but still protect him from afar.
You would have us be guardian, watchman over mortal? Be godparent to shaman? Those words could have been filled with so much. Surprise, incredulity, malice, loathing, rage. But they were empty and void.
Yes. And in return, I shall serve. Serve with all that I am. All of my souls, all my energy, all my minds. Fire. Heat. Dry. Light. Life. I shall swear fealty to you, and work with all my capabilities to bring your demands to fruition. For as long as you would have me. Which could be eternity, but would be worth it.
And what of your creator?
I already betrayed them, as you said. I have nothing to fear.
Would it accept? Was this too little? He was aspect of nature, but he asked it to go against full might of those that created and ruled world. Would it refuse and...
I accept.
And immediately it changed, faster than speed, than will. No light, no shifting, just one moment it was monster and then almost woman-like.
Almost, for it grander than beauty and more horrible than fear itself. It was most brilliant thing ever, beautiful in same way he was hot, so alluring that were it to walk across his world, all living and dead would prostate themselves before it, hopelessly obsessed, ready to sell their very souls, grateful that it allowed them to see it.
Nothing he and his siblings produced could measure. No art could compare. This was ideal, perfection Progenitor thought of when they created concept of beauty. But only for surface, for were you to gaze better, you would see that it was stiller than statue, colder than death. And were you brave enough to dare to look into eyes on masked face, you would find abyss of fundamental wrongness, bottomless and endless void that pulled and destroyed better than black hole.
Not one of Them lied. No matter how Void Queen clothed itself, it would never hide what it was. A monster. People just forgot that beauty had nothing to do with monstrosity.
Where would he prefer to dwell?
Wide, open sky. Sunset, purple sky bleeds. Night, deep and black, stars shining like jewels. Dawn, rosy light lazily dragging on horizon. Clear and blue, Sun proud and tall, clouds puffy and white like cream. Grey curtain, rain mercilessly beating.
Glorious, free land. Wide desert, countless heated grains forming landscape. Snow covering world like blanket. Tall, sharp mountains. Deep, unconquerable sea, always same and forever changing. Thick, dark wood, trees hugging each other.
Entire world shifts, into magnificent forest. Trees stand, some tall and some small and gnarled, forming labyrinth. Sky is blocked by emerald crowns, air rarer than trunks. Soil is covered by light, small grass. Every tree that exists (that ever existed, that will exist), from oak to ginkgo is here.
Every tree has same number of leaves. There are hundred and three variations of shape. You can categorize them in groups by exact shade of bark, exact shape of roots, number of lines on trunk. There are no shadows. And he isn't part of those things. They are less alive than dreams. Illusions, only palpable.
Will this suffice?
He nods. It is still very nice work, and great display of power.
Master arises from ground, floating behind him. Everything he wears on himself disappears, replaced by some sort of nacre jumpsuit. Spirit of Fire just stared.
I will not allow Great Spirits any more insight in my kingdom than necessary. All souls are part of them. I will shield my kingdom so that they can't gaze through you two.
Paranoia. Senseless paranoia. It had enough power to take care of something so minor. but well, it was right. hose clothes weren't necessary. And in arrangement like this, you had to tolerate minor quirk. After all, Queen was host.
It started walking, and master flew, following it. His arms and hair fell, almost dragging over earth with poncho He slept peacefully, of course, but Spirit of Fire shivered. There was aura of unnatural, stiff power, coiled around him like steel. Way he dragged through air, following Void Queen, like lost lamb. As if he was some servant, some powerless child, not master of pentagram, strongest shaman of world, future King, as if he wasn't Asakura Hao. If he could see himself now...
It would be so easy to lead him to slaughter. And he could do nothing to help if that happened. At least there was no chance for Queen to break it's word.
You are not comfortable. You would prefer for me to carry him another way.
Queen's perfect, flawless hands sprang up from it's sides, nothing soft or organic about their change of position. More like movements of doll, they were held in front of it, and master floated in Queen's arms. And they continued walking together, unconscious nature shaman, nervous, terrified force of nature and almighty, unemotional fairy queen.
''Well, at least I experienced strangest thing ever.''
Do not foster empty hope. It always only gets stranger from here.
He looked at world through eyes of spirit. Saw his brave, loyal, idiotic spirit fighting with all of his ( rather limited) power to keep him safe. Spirit of Fire was weak, but cunning, cleverly avoiding beastly spirit.
But it wouldn't be enough. It could buy some time, but hostile spirit was too powerful. Spirit of Fire lacked reiryoku and he was hurt, unconscious, lethally damaged, almost dead and rapidly losing furyoku.
As if something so minor would stop him.
He focused all his will, all power into his nerves. His arm was numb and stiff, as if blood was frozen and skin of stone. It wouldn't respond, as if it was severed.
He gritted ( mental) teeth. This body, this shell was his. His to command and control. he could move mountains and split seas, he could easily move one arm.
Pain was dull and aching, his flesh and bone pleading to let him give up, to let them sleep. Something small itched in his muscles, limp and flapping, like nibbling mouse. But there was contraction, as muscle moved, nervous and slow, as he rose through darkness, tracing rising indigo wires towards pure light at top.
earth rose and flew towards them .He entered light, pushing through veil of dreamless sleep and chains of exhaustion.
Eyes opened. Hand rose. Handful of furyoku entered moving wall of earth, wrestling against stable reiryoku. And winning.
Earth produces metal. Metal cuts wood. Wood is nurtured by water and metal enriches water. Water can erode earth. Earth is born from flame. All of this knows, all of this is made possible by his will.
Giant rock flies towards his head ( for who knows which time) and instinctively his power emerges, wraps itself in thick cocoon. It may protect him. Or it may shatter on impact and drag spirit to Hell with him. Win in either case.
Rock falls. There is scream, horrible panicked scream he heard so many times, when he turned families to ash, when he brought down shamans in front of their comrades.
Something thrums, something majestic and chilling at same time. Almost as if it is calling him.
Asaha.Asaha. .Asaha...
What the...
World breaks and there is nothing.
World breaks and there is nothing. World breaks and there is nothing. World breaks and there is nothing. World breaks and there is nothing. World breaks and there is nothing. World breaks and there is nothing. World breaks and there is nothing. World breaks and there is nothing. World breaks and there is nothing. World breaks and there is nothing. World breaks and there is nothing. World breaks and there is nothing. World breaks and there is nothing. World breaks and there is nothing. World breaks and there is nothing. World breaks and there is nothing. World breaks and there is nothing. World breaks and there is nothing. World breaks and there is nothing. World breaks and there is nothing. World breaks and there is nothing. World breaks and there is nothing. World breaks and there is nothing. World breaks and there is nothing.
Singing. Monotone, flat, impassionate. But clear like silver bells, soft as gossamer, clear as moonlight.
Oni disappear. Islands disappear. Mirrors disappear. Wires disappear. Light disappears. Only quiet, velvety darkness remains.
Silence. He closes eyes.
He will rest for a bit. Then he will wake up and start training. Next tournament is only five hundred years away.
That is all! Read and review!