What lies beyond is strange in many ways and varies for every different believer. And yet, he had achieved it, the truth of the state of his being. His mind was in bliss, with no pain nor suffering to blight him. After so long in limbo, a darkness had come and ferried him to what awaited all warriors once their battles had been completed. Finally understanding a truth he had long since forgotten. He had passed on long ago. But now, by accepting that fact, he had found tranquility.
However, Creation and all within it had other plans for him. A desperate choice far away regarding a different being rippled outwards, and its effects reached him.
A great wave of force tore around him, vibrating everything that was. It felt as though a shockwave of wind that carried the world on it had blown by him, before dying down. The wind of dream had reduced itself to a simple breeze. But now being of pure essence, he was dragged along. He could not resist, even if he could comprehend the dire need to do so.
As though a log down a stream, he slowly accelerated. As though a waterfall was nearing, he was pulled towards an aperture. As though a roman candle, he was pulled from his peace and ripped back into worldly creation.
He opened his eyes, the truth becoming clouded. It was as if he had experienced the most wonderful dream. But he must return to his meditation. He had isolated himself from the world to discover something long since lost. He must do so again.
He did not perceive how his environment was far different from the cave he had previously been hidden away within. He did not perceive how he had landed in a new world, within a barn surrounded by farm machinery. He did not perceive how he had crashed through the roof, nearly caving in the structure around him. He did notice a tightness in his thorax, his soul felt strangely empty. Though he used no spells, he felt drained, nevertheless. Ignoring it, he merely closed his eyes and prepared to meditate once more, trying to remember something important, something he swore he knew not long ago.
However, someone nearby certainly perceived the sound of something like a meteorite going through the building he was going to renovate. A farmer loaded up a shotgun and began to look around. It was midday on a Saturday. His family had left town for a vacation on Friday, he had stayed behind to tend the animals. He had been watching television when a loud crash shook the property. His first thought had been a wild boar tearing through the fence, which did happen from time to time.
The farmer searched but found nothing amiss at the line of his land, everything from his fence to the nearest neighbor a few miles away exactly as it should have been. However, a slight shifting of rubble alerted him. He crept towards his barn. Perhaps a burglar? The farmer noticed severe damage about halfway up the structure, as if a tornado had gone through it. He needed to get in there now. He ran up to the large door of the building, locked shut to protect his equipment from the elements. He slinked slowly to the smaller entrance which was left open for him to access. The farmer took a deep breath; nothing had gone wrong so far. This was the moment of truth.
The farmer barged in the door and waved the barrel of his gun around, the war cry of a shout dying in his throat. He gazed up at a strange being before him. With the loud commotion, the being opened its eyes, and despite already towering over him, began to levitate a few inches off the ground. Markoth, his rest and meditation disturbed, stared down the farmer with fury.
The Vessel was sitting in their chamber. They were trying to think about how to interact with the researchers. They were being relatively friendly, and they didn't outright attack them like the others had done. However, they were evidently working with those that had captured them. They could not be trusted fully.
However, cooperation was clearly the most fruitful approach to be taken, at least for now. Given their captor's nature as some kind of warrior scholars, they would most certainly have a collection of Knowledge somewhere they could access. They might even have others they could speak to, given what the being in the interview had said. Meeting others, what would that entail? They had no idea. They had never interacted with other beings for an extended period of time. Not a recluse, but there were so few bugs left in Hallownest with any semblance of a mind, and most among those were too busy trying to survive their own problems.
Still, their worries were not at the forefront of their mind for long. The door reopened, and just one of the beings in white robes entered, the one who had been talking before. Their name was Smith. Smith sat at the table, and the vessel jumped onto the chair to meet them.
"Good to see you're still enthusiastic about our plan here. Right now, my partner is making preparations to begin to integrate you into the Site community. Before we continue, I have to perform some more of the interview. Are you still willing to be integrated?"
The Vessel nodded. Some of the words were beyond their understanding, but they definitely caught the meaning of the sentence.
"Good. First, we need to be absolutely certain that you won't be a security threat. We know you carry a bladed weapon. Will you be willing to give that up?"
The Vessel seriously considered the proposal. On one hand, they wanted to curry goodwill with the warrior scholars, but on the other hand, with no soul to be had, they would be defenseless. Evidently, their captors did not want to kill them, and aggravating them might change their minds. But, if they changed their minds and they had already given up the pure nail, then it wouldn't matter. But, perhaps, they could run fast? If they refused to give up their nail, how would they react?
"I can see you're having a hard time making up your mind on the matter. I need you to understand, this liberty I'm about to offer is not something I'm making lightly. If you slip up in any way regarding the weapon, you will be imprisoned in this room until the end of your natural life. Only because you have demonstrated remorse following the deaths you have caused and have only attacked in self-defense; you may be permitted to keep it. However, if it is ever drawn, that will be considered a violation of the agreement we are laying here. Is this acceptable?"
The Vessel readily nodded. This would grant them peace of mind, and if they needed to defend themselves, this verbal agreement would be about as effective as a maggot's best attack. They would draw the pure nail if need be, but of course, this should be obvious to the scholar. How could they possibly think this would be binding, maybe their partner did a lot for them even if they were far more silent.
"Good to see you agree. Now, I want to drive this home. We have methods to subdue you, and that door is heavy. Do not cross us. Next order of business, I was curious about how you managed to get your self in the crossfire of a god. What were you doing to get yourself attacked?"
The Vessel thought of how to explain the war between deities that ripped apart Hallownest. It was complicated to say the least, and they barely understood it at a surface level. They weren't sure if they could explain the true cost of the Pale King's sacrifice, but they could explain what they were.
"plan made contain old light make empty bug make vessel am vessel"
"I see. So, you were moving to contain this old light? I find that a bit hard to believe, you're a bit on the small side, but I'll take your word with a few grains of salt."
"traveling through dream was attacked dream pulled to swamp"
Smith mumbled something in agreement. Travel through dreams would certainly bump it up to Keter. However, he already had a hard time believing some of the other claims it had made so far, and it had certainly demonstrated no such ability. It held a small amount of water, considering the radiation that had announced its arrival was so intrinsically related to dreams, but there really wasn't enough evidence. There was a line beyond which he simply could not suspend disbelief without further evidence. However, being nice had been far more productive than any other approach thus far, and so he would continue to play nice.
A pager on his waist beeped, Bateson had finished his preparation. The lunch and communal hours were starting in just fifteen minutes, he would have to wrap up the impromptu interview. He had one last question.
"Alright, our time is finished save for one question. Afterwards, we will meet up with my partner, and then we will explain your schedule and show you towards the communal areas. Now, let's wrap this up. Are there more of your kind, these vessels? We need to know if there are more here."
"one other alive did not follow to swamp did not meet yet"
"Noted. Thank you. Let's get a move on now. My partner is waiting just down the hallway. I want you to walk with me. The guards will be following us until we reach the common area."
There was certainly a story behind the anomaly's answer, but a story that had to be pried out later. How could it know of another if they had not met? The fact that it had not met the other "yet" implied there was a plan for them to. He also needed to ascertain where exactly they came from. Honestly, the slow speed of response made it so these interviews were too short to get much at a single time. He would need to set aside an entire day in the near future to straighten out the facts of the case here. But he needed to get a move on, he had other obligations this afternoon and would not spend the entire day with the anomaly. He would leave it in the cafeteria and explain its schedule on the way.
They exited the room, meeting up with Bateson shortly afterwards. The Vessel was made to wear a small orange uniform over its natural cloak. It took a lot of effort to convince them to wear it, and the end result left everyone involved uncomfortable. At least the vessel was cute in the outfit, Smith thought to himself. The group walked in awkward silence down the hall to the cafeteria. A crescendo of the many mixed voices that happen whenever crowds gather filled the hallway.
The room was enormous, it was more comparable to a cavern than a building. Dozens of long tables with seating for hundreds made up the cafeteria. Carefully screened food went through lines at one end. Harsh fluorescent lighting kept the room bright as day, even at midnight. No natural light was to be found, not a single window was to be found on any of the walls. Loudspeakers with occasional announcements lined the walls every so often. Every door had a guard posted to it. Many individuals populated the room.
The bulk of the group in the room was composed of people wearing long orange jumpsuits. On the top right corner of each jumpsuit was the traditional logo of the Foundation. Centered in the middle of the back on each uniform was a unique designation, with a category labeled right below it. Every orange uniform was either labeled with "Safe" or "Euclid".
Around the edges of the room sat individuals in white lab coats, tan body armor, and blue uniforms. The whole of the site ate in one place, which included the researchers, guards, and manual staff. On the menu today was pizza, freshly microwaved after only a week in the freezer. The previously expanded rations had been re-allocated, back to the same old mediocre food. At least it was edible, and it tasted passable too.
Most individuals in the orange uniforms at least looked human, and the standardized uniforms made it difficult to tell each other apart from a distance. Even still, because it was so rare for new people to join their ranks, everyone was able to at least recognize everyone else. The SCPs didn't have much for company beyond each other. They all were, if not close, at least familiar with each other.
This familiarity worked to make it all the more surprising when a new face under the escort of multiple guards and researchers. The little guy was weird looking among humanoid anomalies. The humanoids looked, well, human. This thing looked like a giant bug, even if the giant only went up to their waist. Especially weird was the double guard escort. Many of the more loyal anomalies would be able to roam within the common areas unaccompanied, and the more recent arrivals would usually have one with them. The guy must've killed someone to have two with them. More than a few eyes stared over the shoulders of others, trying to size up the new arrival.
The escorts walked them around the edge of the room, explaining the different facilities present and available for SCPs to use. A few managed to catch some words being passed around the group, about "3rd grade level classes" and "my office for more markers", odd.
The group walked around towards the food line. The small crowd that was hanging around dispersed before the guards. While not in earshot, there was apparently some confusion about the new arrival getting food. They didn't seem to want to use the line for whatever reason. Despite the obvious back and forth, the smallest member of the group didn't actually say anything. They wrote everything out slowly onto a whiteboard they were toting around.
Some people were weirded out. Some were curious. Most didn't care beyond the oddity of a new face. But no one would approach while researchers were present. The guards weren't usually bad, mostly just doing their job and if no one started any problems, the guards wouldn't find any. But the researchers actively went out of their way to find things to poke, test, and study. Never mind that it was unsettling to be around someone who wanted to know everything about anything that made you tick, the tests they concocted could very often be dangerous.
Eventually, after having explained the purpose of the room to the newcomer, the researchers walked down a hallway leading to the staff cubicles. The newcomer merely stared where they had walked off to. The guards around them were seemingly left without orders, befuddled. The researchers had left in a hurry at one's behest and they were simply abandoned. Eventually, the guards wandered off on their own, grabbing a to go bag of food from the line and moving towards the living quarters. The newcomer was left alone with the other SCPs in the cafeteria.
The Vessel was left alone after a brief explanation of the canteen and their schedule. Every night, as dictated by the dimming of the ceiling lights, they would have to return to their room. During the day period, they could wander around sections of the facility with the green stripes along the walls and must visit classes designed to improve their writing abilities. A large degree of freedom given the situation, it seemed almost comical.
When Smith described the plan to Bateson, Bateson became a shade of red much brighter than they were before, furious with Smith creating such a plan. He cooled himself off with a deep breath, and then in a hushed tone the vessel made out far clearer than the researchers realized told him off for creating a potential security risk. Apparently, they were both liable for whatever the Vessel did, and now they were forced to honor the agreement until the Vessel made a mistake that would render it null. Apparently, the organization keeping the Vessel captured wanted to ensure future cooperation and wanted to build trust.
Well, they would be sure to not push those boundaries, but it made things easier. The organization wanted cooperation as much as they did, so mutual understanding would be feasible for the time being.
As the guards walked off, they took in their surroundings. It was a crowded room, with a few guards and other researchers flanking the tables at the edges. The bulk of the group were prisoners like them in orange uniforms. Most of them were the same kind of sentient beings that the researchers were, or at least the same shape. A few seemed to be made of metal or composed of multiple types of creatures. One appeared to have two torsos on top of each other, making them tower far over the rest of the group. Some sported drawings on their soft shells of intricate designs. One of the creatures appeared to be bisected in two, with a large rock rotating in place between the two halves. How they were still alive was beyond understanding.
A few eyes from the crowd nervously glanced over at them. They had no idea how to even interact with any of them. As long as they had been in Hallownest, few ever interacted with them beyond fleeting conversations. The few who did typically lead the interaction. The vessel was out of their element.
It wasn't like there was a wrong choice to make, so they walked down the aisles between the tables for a brief way, eventually seeing a rather monochrome inmate. On their back was a number reading 1799. They weren't talking to anyone and was staring blanky at the tray set before them.
The Vessel walked up next to them, all seats around them were empty, and jumped up to the table. The other individual took a long time to pull his head towards them. They looked the vessel up and down and seemed to wait for the vessel to leave. When they didn't, they finally began to speak,
"You know, I don't think I've seen you around here."
They seemed to wait for something after they spoke. A moment passed, and their sullen look transformed into something confused. The Vessel merely looked on, waiting for them to continue.
"You, uh, didn't find what I said humorous, did you? Are you even going to say anything?"
The Vessel was confused by this. They felt something weird when the individual spoke, but it wasn't humor. They weren't even sure if they could feel humor. They weren't empty, but they weren't exactly not empty either. Emotions like humor didn't come naturally to them and were hard to grasp. They wrote on their whiteboard.
"cannot speak dont understand humor"
The individual seemed taken aback, and then thought to themselves for a moment. They seemed apprehensive. After being lost in their thoughts for only a brief moment, their face seemed to light up as though a great weight had been lifted off their shoulders.
"You know, I'm glad there's finally someone I can talk to without having to use this whiteboard they gave me. I'm also glad someone else gets how troublesome it can be to have to use it. My name's, er, Mr. Laugh. I feel like it used to be something else, but that's long since gone. Er, I haven't been able to speak normally with anyone in a long time."
Mr. Laugh was suddenly interrupted when he belched out a large cloud of rainbow smoke ranging from vibrant pinks and purples to oranges and reds. He coughed violently for a moment following the weird expulsion and hacked up a small flower from his throat. He threw it near the corner of his tray.
"Apologies about that. I, uh, can't control it. So, what's your name? I can tell you're new around here."
"not given name"
"Well, surely there's something I can call you. I don't think you'd like if I called you the little black bug."
Well, no, the vessel wouldn't like that. As they thought about how to answer the question, they decided to reveal what they were, as a name. No one in this world, with the exception of themselves, knew the dark history behind the creation of the Vessels, so it wouldn't carry the dark weight for others to use. While it felt impersonal, 'Vessel' would certainly ease communication. Names were never this critical back in Hallownest, bugs would usually just say what they needed to say.
"call self vessel"
"Vessel, huh? Well, that's certainly an odd name, I'll tell you. But, I'll call you whatever you want me to, Hell, I'll say whatever you want me to say. It's just so nice to talk to someone again. So, uh. Do you have a plan for after you finish eating? Or uh, whatever you're doing here right now?"
"find archive learn world"
"Err. Do you mean like a library? If so, that's going to be down the hallway there. It's like a combined library and media center thing."
Before Mr. Laugh could finish his thought, the Vessel ran off to find this library media center thing. As it was leaving, it seemed to do some weird movement where it stabbed the ground, but it wound up looking confused. Whatever it was trying to do evidently didn't work. After trying again and still seeming to have no luck, it continued down the hallway he had indicated. Mr. Laugh felt blown off, but he didn't hold it against Vessel. Very few ever spent any time around him, and just a few fleeting moments and the exchange singlehandedly brightened his entire week. He decided to call off his morbid evening plans, and to try to find Vessel once again in the future. Perhaps he might finally be able to have a friend in the facility.
Bateson was telling off Smith with heavy breath, his words laced with barely concealed rage. Smith had made a deal with an anomaly without any consultation from either him or the Site Director who apparently wanted to speak with the object. And now, because of the Site's policy of "Goodwill", they were bound to honor the agreement. At least, until the anomaly inevitably made a mistake rendering the agreement null and void.
"Smith, I swear to whatever god might actually give a shit, you have put our asses in the wringer!"
Smith remained silent, merely taking in the hissed words. While he didn't think it was anywhere near as bad as Bateson thought it was, he realized he definitely stepped over a line. He would have to slow his roll in the future.
"-didn't we already talk about pay cuts- "
"-Johanson is going to have our asses if there's a weapon- "
"And now she has to wait to speak-!"
The lecture was almost condescending. Smith had zoned out nearly fifteen minutes ago. Apparently, there was a spot on the western wall that had dripped while it was painted, and the slight bulge had grayed a slightly darker shade with time than the rest of the wall. How he had never noticed it before, he didn't know, but he certainly wouldn't be able to not notice it for a long time.
"Smith, are you even listening to me?"
"Well, you see- "
Before Smith even got a chance to explain himself, he was spared by a staffer knocking on the door and entering with a manilla envelope. He wore a blue cap, denoting him as one of the messengers for matters relating to the MTFs. With a slightly bored tone, he brought the evening news.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything important. You two are the ones in charge of the recent capture, SCP-8546?"
"Yes, that would be us."
"Two things are to report. The MTF Agent, Dunn I believe, who received an eviscerating wound to the stomach, has succumbed to his injuries in hospice after contracting Sepsis. His family has been notified and his estate has been paid out. May God rest his soul. In other news, an MTF team has been dispatched to capture a new anomaly located about 30 kilometers west of Miami."
"And why does this anomaly concern us?"
"During its appearance, a large amount of radiation spiked in the lower atmosphere, the same brand of radiation that appeared during your guy's arrival. If we capture it in one piece, it'll be under your jurisdiction as well, and you'll be tasked with figuring out the connection between them."
"Understood, but what do you mean 'if we capture it in one piece'?"
"This one's dangerous, a farmer was killed right off the bat after encountering it."
The staffer, having finished his report, walked out the door without allowing any more questions. Smith and Bateson shared an eye roll before returning to their previous activities: lecturing and pretending to care.
Miles away from the nearest property, a half dozen armed soldiers emblazoned with MTF symbols on their shoulders stacked up along the wall of a barn. They had cameras and microphones ready, rifles and handheld explosives prepared for a fight. The reason they were entering so heavily armed was lying in the grass about twenty feet away. The poor owner of the property was thrown through a wall, had his head caved in from a dull impact, and multiple severe lacerations along his torso. Whatever hit him, hit him hard. It also hit the officers who responded to gunshots on the property less than a day ago hard too.
After sizing up the barn within which the anomaly was located, they prepared to enter through the small door meant for humans. The larger vehicle door was chained shut, except for the farmer's untimely escape hatch several feet off the ground.
Every member of the party took a deep breath, this was the moment of truth. They kicked in the door and quickly sized up the content of the room. There were small miscellaneous pieces of farm equipment in various states of assembly lining shelves on the right-hand wall. In the far back right corner, a large vat or container of some kind was being held on a rusted out stand. Towards the left, near the door, was a John Green tractor with the engine half picked apart. In the back left corner of the room, presumably an old car was hidden under a brown tarp, covered in a thick layer of dust only disturbed by gashes which must have been made by a pointed object moving at great speed. The whole room was held up six pillars, one of which was sawed through and tied to the top of the storage vat. The pillars were set up in a two by three orientation.
And like a golden idol in a lost temple in the middle of the room sat the prize the MTF was seeking, a large anomalous creature. It had its backed turned to them, sitting in silence on the ground. It resembled a large moth in a heavy cloak. Around its neck was a circle of heavy beads, each nearly as big a basketball. At the top of its head, like a crown, was a pair of horns just almost reaching together, seeming to make a broken hoop.
The MTF agents fanned out across the room, weapons trained upon the object. Two members stood in front of the vehicle door, two were lining the pillar closest to the wall, and the final two were lined up along the next pillar, the one just before the storage vat. As they moved into position, the leader began to speak. The others had been instructed to say as little as possible so as to avoid confusing the anomaly and potentially escalating the situation.
Warbled slightly through his heavy gold tinted helmet, MTF-1 spoke, "Attention unidentified object, we are here to take you in. Please do not res- "
His words were cut off as the anomaly rose to its feet, and then continued to rise. Markoth could not understand the words being spoken, but he understood the intention as clear as water. He now floated a few feet off the ground, and though his face was far from human, his expression of detest was clear. Motes of essence wrapped around him, causing the edges of himself to become fuzzy and hard to determine. His voice was ethereal, seeming to ring from around them and the walls as much as from his mouth itself,
"Save your words. Do not waste our time by babbling on. We are both warriors. Raise your weapon and meet your death, as have the many before you!"
With that, Markoth teleported several feet in the air once more, practically reaching the ceiling. Around him, an orbiting shield manifested from a condensed cloud of the energy that surrounded it. On each side, conical spears formed. A moment of tension between the raised guns and the pointed spears. Like a shattering plane of glass, both sides began their assault.
The MTF agents dove behind the nearest cover, for the four already on pillars, they rotated around to put the wooden wall between them and their assailant. For the two in the open by the vehicle door, each dove to a side, one finding cover behind the pillar closest to the door with two others, and the other snuggling up against the tractor. She began to pull a belt of grenades off of her back.
Bullets and spears were flying through the air. Bullets clanged uselessly off of the orbiting shield as it rotated at great speed. The few that made it through passed through the anomaly, tearing away chunks of the essence that seemed to compose it. Every time a bullet collided with it, it hissed in pain or anger. The MTF members were well trained, poking out only a small portion to fire off a salvo.
However, Markoth was just as intelligent as they were. The one to his left, closest to the metal structure poked out in an interval, evenly spaced every single time they fired. He moved to his left and readied a spear. When they poked out looking where he was, they paused for a moment before his launched weapon flew at them. They were impaled through the shoulder and pinned against the wall with a scream. Blood began to rapidly pour from the wound, Markoth must've hit something important.
Seeing their comrade go down, one of the soldiers screamed a name lost to the winds of battle and charged forward. Such a foolhardy display of fearlessness. It would get them nowhere. He flung another spear this time without much thought. The soldier was enraged and not thinking straight, and so they walked in a straight line. They walked straight into the spear. They too were thrown back, nailing their head against the wall and slumping down, only held up by the weapon through their stomach.
Before Markoth could move to finish off either of the wounded enemies, a well-coordinated volley of metal flew through the air, forcing him to move backwards. Near the vehicle door, a soldier had gotten the pin and lever off of a grenade. Markoth looked up only to see a small green rock be thrown at his face, which detonated in a spray of shrapnel. The blast severely harmed him, and he summoned his second dream shield to guard against future attacks. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the soldiers peel off and stop firing to tend to the first soldier he injured. They held their hand to their neck at which they froze, screaming something. Clearly, the first soldier had expired. As he prepared to bring the same fate upon the tending agent, something flashed in the corner of his eye.
Another grenade had been thrown at Markoth. He quickly ripped around to smash it out of the way with his second dream shield, his attention fully removed from the tending soldier. He smacked the green rock out of its arc towards him and it was passed on to the storage vat. The explosion pierced several holes in the container and some kind of beige oil slowly leaked out. The force of the blast damaged the supporting metal, and the whole structure began to list to one side.
Bullets continued to rip through the room in a hail of death. Markoth wanted to put an end to this soldier throwing exploding rocks. He concentrated and the spears ceased their activity for a moment. Both of the dream shields began to orbit faster and faster in larger and larger orbits. As their paths reached their target, the first dream shield tore through the green vehicle that the explosion thrower was hiding behind. A fiery blast tore through the side of the barn and the soldier was thrown to the ground, pieces of shrapnel having pierced them. She groaned in agony and held the wound in her side closed. The vehicle door was torn open with the force of the impact. Pieces of tractors were thrown everywhere.
The leader of the bunch who had watched their agents get picked off one by one was the most perceptive of the bunch. They noticed how the entity was slowing ever so slightly in its attack, and how when threatened it backed away towards the furthest wall, where a certain structure was beginning to collapse on itself. This fight could be finished in a single swift maneuver. They ordered their soldiers to lay down an especially heavy volley of fire, the two remaining MTF agents doing so swiftly. They wanted to aid their comrades but could not do so in such a hostile environment. As the entity retreated backwards with its floating shields, the commander unleashed swift targeted fire upon the weakened legs of the oil vat. A low metallic groan filled the barn, following by the screech of metal bolts sheering where the connected the structure together.
The metal structure came down hard upon Markoth. The dream shields could not withstand against both the fire of metal projectiles and the weight of such a large object coming down upon him. Dust filled the room, and after the metal settled, an eerie silence.
The three remaining MTF agents, all with minor injuries, slowly advanced towards the center of the room. As the cloud of dust settled, they froze and lifted their weapons through the exhaustion they were feeling. The entity was standing on its two feet, staring them down. But the look of detest was nowhere to be found. It spoke in its foreign language, less to them but to itself. It fell upon its knees, and before the agents could move to contain it, it began to dissolve into the energy that composed it. The energy condensed into particles and drifted away on the cool night breeze.