Intermission: Releasing Day

All paths lead to Oblivion. That was what everyone said.

Of all mindsets concerning the afterlife set aside for those victimized by the race known as the Incubators, this was by far the most pessimistic and yet the most prevalent. No life, no matter how wonderful, no matter how meaningful, no matter how magical, wears out its welcome eventually.

But what then? When one's second life has lost all appeal and yet one cannot die, what is she to do? Her existence continues on regardless of how long she has lived and whether or not she wishes to keep on living. No matter what the distraction, no matter what new purposes she might find to keep herself occupied, it is only temporary. Some called it hitting the wall, that point in which someone is simply done with existence, and wishes for everything to end. For some it took a few decades, for some it took literal centuries, and for some it took mere days. It didn't matter; they all ended up at the same place.

Those are the ones that the Withering Lands waited for.

The life of a Void Walker is long, dreary, and completely without appeal. There is little entertainment, little fulfillment, and next to no comfort, just long work days without color or relief, and the terms of service were long.

But what lay at the very end of it all? Should someone fulfill their terms of service and have their name chosen, what exactly happened on that final day?

The answer was the Releasing Ceremony.

Taking place on a broad, desolate plain of warped volcanic stone known only as Meggido, it was a plaza several square kilometers in size. The appointed place was sunken down about half a meter and laid with smooth, black tiles, covered by a massive stone canopy the size of several city blocks held aloft by pillars arrayed all along the plaza's perimeter.

In the center of the plaza was a tiered ziggurat twenty meters high and constructed of smooth black stone. The ziggurat had a flattened top, upon which were two solitary beings, barely perceptible as they were as black as their surroundings, one a short, feminine figure wearing an all-encompassing black robe with a heavy hood, and the other a small, sleek creature that seemed part cat and part rat, with a inky black body and beady red eyes.

And filling the space around the ziggurat was a surging sea of pale flesh and desperate cries.

Void Walkers of virtually every species were packed into that space, and as large as the plaza was, there was little space between them. They were all naked and all pale as ghosts, their bodies as colorless as their lives. Jotts were packed in with andalites, calliopes with vekoo, humans with kotoss interdrent, vaskergoros with the nesk, and nearly everyone else. They pressed forward, none daring to be left out, grasping toward the ziggurat with their hands, claws, tentacles, and other appendages. Many were crushed to death by their neighbors. No one noticed. No one cared, not even the ones getting crushed. The air filled with the cacophony of their cries, moans, and pleas.

On top of the ziggurat, Reibey watched Oblivion carefully, and was disgusted by what he saw. Though this was not her first Releasing Ceremony, the kid was still clearly shaken by it all, which was not a look becoming of what was essentially the Void Walkers' deity. It was just as well that she was wearing heavy robes and stood far from the teeming masses, lest they see how she trembled.

"Get it over with," he snapped.

The hooded head nodded, and Oblivion spread her arms over her head. The ghastly cries of those below rose in pitch and desperation.

Reibey impatiently stared off into space as he waited for things to wrap up. The sooner the wretches below were silenced and he was given peace, the better.

And then the flattened top of the ziggurat on which he and Oblivion stood began to glow white.

The wail of the those to be released took on an ethereal note, and their bodies began to dissolve, coming apart like seafoam. And as that happened, the white vapors of their soul rose into the air in a thick, cloying cloud. And as the cloud grew, so did the cries fade away.

Finally Reibey was left in blessed silence.

The fog of mingled souls rose up, covering the ziggurat. Oblivion inhaled deeply before it reached the pair so as not to breathe any of it. Which was silly, as far as Reibey was concerned. The inhalation of another's soul was said to be an invigorating experience, one that some places charged exorbitant prices in order for one to enjoy. Or so he had heard; Reibey never got much from it.

And then the cloud began to be drawn inward, pulled in by some unseen and unfelt vortex. It collected into a tall pillar right over the ziggurat, one that was pressed into a tall, white, rotating column that extended all the way to the ceiling.

The column spun faster and faster, turning into a spinning whirlwind. And standing in the eye of the maelstrom of abandoned souls stood the Lords of the Withering Lands.

The whirlwind was surreal to see from the outside, but from within it was downright haunting. Though all the souls had been thoroughly mixed together, small glimpses of the individuals would poke out from the wispy walls of the storm. Agonized faces poked briefly through only to disappear, faintly glowing eyes opened and closed, and deathly voices whispered sorrows and regrets.

Reibey was bored.

He had sat through literally millions of these ceremonies. The first few had been…sad. Tragic. And kind of unnerving. To a being born without primitive emotion and understanding of death, the desperation of so many mortal souls and their longing for true death had bewildered him at first. After all, the afterlife had literally been created by a mortal for the benefit of mortals, giving them another chance at the life they were denied, so why were they so eager to die again? Did they want death or a full life? It didn't make any sense!

Time, perspective, and lengthy talks with the original Oblivion had allowed him to finally understand. Lesser beings had an innate understanding of what their natural lifespan ought to be, and were evolutionally prepared only for that period of time. Too little was considered a tragedy, while too much a burden. And with this new understanding, he had gained a sense of purpose. He was the bringer of mercy, giving those trapped their natural release once they had tired of life.

But in time, that sense of goodwill had faded, and he came to despise those he was supposed to help. Lesser beings were just. So. Pathetic! Desperate, whiny, filthy creatures that barely qualified as sentient, he grew to hate the sight of them, to detest dealing with them. Honestly, if he could just release the whole lot of them, every single one of them all at once, he would.

And then the original Oblivion had abandoned him, and his disdain grew ever more poisonous. He hated those he was stuck with, but he hated his fellow Incubators even more.

And then, one day, he got an idea, an idea that gave him a new sense of purpose, one now fueled by spite and vengeance, one that had motivated him to continue on, now with a tangible goal on the horizon.

But even sense of purpose and spite would only last so long, and now Reibey was just bored and slightly resentful. And that galled him. The Wellspring was almost full! Another year, and things would be ready! However, he wouldn't get to enjoy it, because odds were it was just going to be all for nothing and things would be yanked back once again. It was fortunate that he had no memory of those cycles, else he might have ended up crazier than he already was.

In contrast, Oblivion was not bored. Rather, she was absolutely terrified, scared out of her mind by what was happening. She had overseen a number of Releasing Ceremonies ever since assuming the mantle of Oblivion, but had yet to get used to them, and though she kept her arms raised, she had her eyes squeezed shut and was whimpering like the weak child that she was.

Reibey sighed. Maybe if the cycle continued, there might be some way to send a message to his next self to just keep the mewling child around for her unique properties and not give her the throne of Oblivion. The girl had her uses, but he would have been better served to just shut her up in a brightly colored playhouse with a kitten and kept away from the anything resembling power and authority, even if only as a figurehead.

Then the ceremony reached its climax. The whispers rose into a ghoulish howl, and the whole whirlwind was sucked down into the ziggurat, which swallowed it right up. Reibey impatiently rocked his head back and forth as he waited for it to be fully consumed. Oblivion, however, couldn't keep from flinching, covering her head and pressing the sides of her cowl into her ears with her hands.

Finally it was done. The whole of the unholy cyclone of souls was fully devoured by the ziggurat, and the glowing white platform at the top faded to black.

Reibey rotated his neck around, easing out the cricks. Then he looked over to Oblivion in disdain, who was now hunched over, cowering with her arms thrown over her head.

"All right, it's over," he snapped. "You can stop crying like a baby."

At this, Oblivion stopped shaking, and she turned her head just enough for her pale emerald eyes to glower at the Incubator.

"I'm not a baby!"

"Then stop acting like one." Reibey stood up and headed for the stairs down to the ceremony grounds. "Seriously, you've been doing this job longer than you mortal life. And it's not like it's a hard job. Just wear a robe, sit on a chair, and once a year you stand on a ziggurat with your arms raised. Is that too much to ask?"

Oblivion sullenly followed, though not without trepidation. Now that the top of the ziggurat was no longer glowing, everything from it to the stairs to the ziggurat sides to the ground below was all jet-black, making it very hard to see where she was going, which had led to a very embarrassing accident her third year. "At least I try," she said. "At least I do my best! What do you do, huh? You can't even keep your promises!"

At this, Reibey paused. Then he twisted his head around so that his beady, scarlet eyes were staring straight at her. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

"You know what it means! You promised you would go get Big Sis Kyo, but you didn't! Where is she?"

Reibey blinked.

Wait, who?

"You promised me! You told me that Big Sis Kyo was here, and that you would bring her to me! Why didn't you keep your promise?"

Big…Sis…Kyo?

What was she talking about? Oblivion didn't have a sister, not in this timeline or any previous. So why was…

Oh.

Oh, wait. That was right. That one girl that had caused such a fuss, that his agents had utterly bungled while trying to bring her in. Kyo…bo? Kyodo? No, Kyoko, that was right. Kyoko Sakrosomething.

"I told you already," Reibey hissed. "She didn't want to come back! It's not even your Kyoko, so she doesn't remember you!"

"I remembered! I remembered everything from that other timeline, so she should too!"

As they argued, their surroundings began to change. The Elite Guard stationed all around the plaza's perimeter turned inward and marched inside. Moments later, the massive columns holding the stone canopy aloft came apart in segments, which then slid into the spaces in between, shifting like molten steel, melting into a solid wall.

More walls rose up from the tiled floor while the canopy above lowered, while the space directly over the ziggurat turned translucent and bulged upward into a milky crystal dome. Meanwhile, there was a slight rumbling beneath their feet as the ground on which they stood lifted from the plain of Meggido, hovering into the sky.

Soon the appointed place of the Releasing Ceremony had completely reformed itself into Palace Omega, the home of the lords of the Void Walkers.

Neither of those lords paid any heed.

"Well, she doesn't! I did what I could to bring her in, and it didn't work, so that's that!"

Oblivion stamped her foot in childish frustration. "You quitter!" she snapped before turning and storming off.

Reibey watched her go. When he was finally alone in the room, his slowly closed his glowing scarlet eyes, drew his head back, and started slamming it against the ground.

"Reibey! You! Idiot!" he cursed to punctuate each moment of self-abuse. "Just make her Oblivion, you said! You need a new one, so any one would do, you said! Now you got a whiny child to look after who won't stop bitching and moaning about something that doesn't even matter!"

Then he spun around and headed right back to the ziggurat. As he did, he summoned up a floating screen that followed him.

On the screen was a somewhat humanoid face, though humans might take pause at the lack of a mouth. Or the three vertical slits instead of a nose. Or the long, pointed ears. Or the two additional eyes, protruding from the being's hairless scalp on a pair of flexible stalks, giving her four eyes in total.

Nafir-Serrintia-Korfo was an andalite, one of the more technologically and scientifically advanced species contacted by the Incubators, though only by the very low standards set by the others. On that front, the attempts of Reibey's kin to establish any sort of momentum with the andalites had been disappointing at best, leading to them being one of the rarest species to be found in the afterlife, and their natural reclusiveness meant that encountering one on the streets was extremely unlikely.

Still, it was good that some were around, as they were at least somewhat evolved, though obviously not by Incubator standards. But if one needed a scientist and only had livestock available, then an andalite was the best choice. He worked with what he had.

And he had to admit, Nafir was at least admirably free of pesky things like morals, scruples, or any other imaginary mortal hang-ups preventing her from doing her job. He told her to do something, and she did it without hesitation, no matter what methods she needed to employ.

Nafir tilted her head to one side and her main eyes crinkled in an andalite smile. Lord Reibey, she "said." How may this humble servant be of assistance?

Andalites were one of the few naturally psychic creatures in the galaxy. Communicating entirely through neural means, they were literally capable of projecting their thoughts to each other and other species, which came in handy, given their lack of mouths. However, much like the mental communications Puella Magi would employ in life with an Incubator's help was now translated as vocal speech in their pure soul bodies, andalite mind speak was now…different. They still spoke without mouths and could project their thoughts to specific people, but the recipients would "hear" their speech both audibly but also in their heads, creating an odd echo effect. It was very disorienting to those unaccustomed to it.

Reibey quite frankly could not give less of a shit.

"I have a project for you," he said as he headed back up the steps of the ziggurat. "I need homunculus. Human. Specific physical details to follow."

Nafir blinked all four eyes at once. Ah, an artificial being. Of course. Is it of a specific individual?

"It is."

Then is a soul sample available?

Reibey reached the top of the ziggurat. "It will be. As well as the memories you need. I shall inform you when you can begin."

Of course, my Lord. I am ever at your command.

The screen winked out, and Reibey looked down at the flat top of the ziggurat, now cold, black, and inert.

It galled him to have to waste precious resources for this, no matter how small, but this was driving him up a wall. And maybe if Oblivion got her pet, she would start actually behaving like Oblivion should.

Besides, nothing said it had to be permanent. What was given could just as easily be taken back when the time came.

Reibey tapped a paw against the top of the ziggurat, and it started to glow bright red.

If Oblivion wanted Big Sis Kyo, then she was going to get Big Sis Kyo.

…

The girl that was now known only as Oblivion was not happy with her lot in life.

And that sucked. Because her actual life had been very unhappy as well. Mama and Papa had both been bad people who regularly mistreated her, called her names, and hit her when they weren't happy, which had been often. There had been many days in which she would wish that either they or she would just die and put an end to it.

And then, one day, she got her wish.

That had been weird.

Waking up in the afterlife had been exceptionally strange, both for her and for those who were already there. They had talked to her about things like Incubators and witches and contracts, but Oblivion knew of none of those things. She had never met an Incubator. She had never made a contract. And a witch? An old lady with a pointy hat who flew around on a broom? Those were real?

But the more she was talked to, the more Oblivion strange memories began to stir deep inside of Oblivion. She saw flashes of images of strange, horrible monsters, of her parents both lying in bloody pieces while she stood over them, of strange girls wearing strange clothing who did bad things to each other.

But most of all, she remembered a shining warrior with red hair, someone who had taken her in and protected her, who had cared for her when no one else would.

Her ignorance had confused the weird girls with pale skin and black clothes that had found her, and they had brought her to Reibey, an actual, real-life alien. And Reibey had been very interested in Oblivion and her weird memories. An anomaly, he had called her. A special mistake that shouldn't have happened. He had taken her in, telling her that he would give her anything she wanted and let her be queen, complete with a cool robe and throne.

That had sounded awesome. Power? Respect? An army? And all she had to do was help girls who were already dead and wanted to die get their wish once a year? No one would ever be able to hurt her again!

Unfortunately, things hadn't turned out as cool as she had hoped for. Reibey never let her see anyone, never let her boss anyone around or do queen stuff. He just had her sit around in a dark, ugly room with nothing to do all the time, when he didn't have her sitting around in that scary lab getting poked and prodded by his creepy scientists.

And all the while, her strange memories only grew more clear, more distinct. The memories of another her from another timeline, Reibey had said. Why she had them or had wound up in the afterlife, nobody yet knew. But it was very important, Reibey had told her. It helped him a lot with a special project he was working on but would never tell her about. And in the meantime, he just kept her locked up with a bunch of boring toys, like she was some little kid.

And then had come that fateful day, when he had told her that the girl from her memories had come, the only person to ever show her real kindness. Oblivion had of course been excited. Surely she would be an anomaly just like her! Surely she would remember her too!

Reibey had promised to bring her to Oblivion, but that had been a long time ago, and he had quit, just like Oblivion ought to have expected. Because Reibey wasn't her friend. Reibey only cared about himself and what she could do for him.

Well, Reibey wasn't the only person who knew things. For all his posturing, he didn't do a very good job keeping an eye on her, and Oblivion had found that she had free range of the palace.

Unfortunately, the palace wasn't very interesting. Almost everything was in stark blacks or glaring whites, and there wasn't anything pretty or fun to be found. There wasn't even a treasure room! What kind of evil palace didn't have a treasure room?

But in her poking around, she had finally found something interesting. Reibey wasn't very good at remembering promises, but he did keep careful record of all his orders, dealings, and interactions.

And with some digging, she had found something interesting.

There was someone in the palace who had actually met Big Sis Kyo, someone that Reibey had probably forgotten all about, like he did everything.

At first, Oblivion had been unsure of what to do with that information. Reibey always snapped at her if she pried too deeply into his business. Maybe he was saving her for something special, some master plan to finally bring Big Sis Kyo to her.

But it was now clear that that wasn't the case. Oblivion had to act on her own.

And so she headed for the dungeon.

The dungeon of Palace Omega was appropriately scary and weird: a black, lightless hallway with no doors. Whenever a new prisoner was brought in, the wall would open up, and she would be thrown into a cell and just left there, with no food, no water, no light, no means of escape, forgotten to stay in the dark forever. She could hear the sounds of their crying, their wailing, their anguish coming through the smooth, featureless walls.

And that made Oblivion happy. It was how an evil dungeon of an evil Queen ought to be, after all. Though she wished there was more chains.

But there was one prisoner in particular that she was interested in, one that had been weirdly easy to find out about. It was like Reibey had been real secretive about her at first, only to stop caring. Maybe he had forgotten about her.

Then again, he had also apparently forgotten about his promise to get Big Sis Kyo, so he had probably had.

Since she couldn't see in the dark like he did, Oblivion had brought along a flashlight, as well as a printed card telling her where she needed to go. Mumbling to herself, she read the instructions out loud several times before she was certain she got it right.

The cell she wanted was further down the black hall. Oblivion hurried the best she could, hiking up her robe with one hand while holding the flashlight with the other.

Then, when she was about halfway, she heard a raspy voice call out, "Wh-Who's there?"

Oblivion froze. "Who are you?"

Nothing.

Frowning, Oblivion leaned forward and pressed her ear to the wall. "Hello?" she said. "Who is that?"

There was a long silence, and then the raspy voice whispered. "I…I don't know. My name. I had a name. What was it?"

"Well, if you don't know, then I don't know," Oblivion said crossly.

"A name," the voice mused. "A name. What was my name? I used to be somebody. I used to be a…I don't know. I don't remember. How long has it been? Days? Weeks? Centuries? Who are you?"

"I…" Then Oblivion blinked.

Come to think of it, what was her name? Her old name, that was. She had been Oblivion for so long that it was hard to remember.

"I…I'm not sure," Oblivion admitted.

"Another prisoner," the voice sighed. "Are you new, or are you old? How long have you been kept down here, down in the dark?"

"I'm not a prisoner!" Oblivion snapped in indignation. "I'm the queen! I'm Oblivion!"

And with that, all of the crying, all of the wailing, all of the sobbing coming from the walls stopped.

And then, all at once, everyone began crying out for her. "Release me, sweet Oblivion!"

"Please, I'm sorry for my trespass! Let me go!"

"Kill me! Kill me, you horrid bitch!"

"Oh God, just let me die! Just let me die!"

"No!" Oblivion slapped a hand against the wall, and in an instant all sound was cut out. Presumably the cell's occupants were still gibbering to themselves. She just didn't have to hear it anymore.

Shaken, Oblivion hurried on her way. That had been way more creepy than she had been expecting.

Finally she reached the spot. Facing the wall, she took a deep breath and touched a hand to the smooth, cold stone.

Immediately the wall opened up, revealing a small cell, one with no bed, no comforts, nothing but four walls, a ceiling, and a floor.

And sprawled out on that floor was a pale girl with long, dark hair, bundled up in a patched overcoat.

The girl looked to be unconscious. It didn't even look like she was breathing.

But she was alive, or at least, what passed for alive. Nobody could die, after all. Not without her.

Entering the cell, Oblivion knelt down to the girl and shook her shoulder. "Hey," she said. "Wake up."

The girl twitched, but did nothing.

Frowning, Oblivion shook her harder. "Hey! Get up! I need your-"

"AAAHHH!" The girl abruptly sat straight up, eyes wide as she screamed at the top of her lungs.

Oblivion couldn't help but scream a little in surprise as well and retreated back into the hall. Then she held up her flashlight with shaking hands and shone the beam inside.

As soon as the light hit her, the girl covered her face with her hands like she had been burned and scrambled away on all fours. Oblivion hesitated, and then nervously entered the cell.

The girl was cowering in the corner, trying to cover her face with her overcoat. "Light," she moaned. "No light. Hurts. Hurts."

Oops. It probably did. "Sorry!" Oblivion hastily turned the flashlight away.

She could still hear the girl trembling and whispering nonsense to herself. "Who…Who are you?"

Remembering how the other prisoners had reacted to her name, Oblivion ignored the question and said, "You're Elsa Maria, right? That's your name?"

The girl fell silent.

Then out of the dark she said, "That name. Is that…my name?"

"Well, is it?" Oblivion said crossly. She did have the right person, didn't she? "Look, I need your help. You met someone that I need you to find. Kyoko Sakura. You know her, right?"

There was another silence.

"Well?" Oblivion demanded.

Instead of answering her very simple question, Elsa Maria merely whispered, "What are you?"

Oblivion scowled. "What do you mean, 'What am I?' I asked you a question first! You met-"

"What are you?" Elsa Maria repeated, her voice rising in volume and pitch. "What are you? What are you? What are you? WHAT ARE YOU?"

Befuddled, irritated, confused, and sort of insulted, Oblivion could only stand and stare as her prisoner continued to scream.

"WHAT ARE YOU? WHAT ARE YOU? WHAT ARE YOU?"

…

Who is she? Well, I'll tell you. Her name is…

JOHN CENA!

=trumpets=

Anyway. I think I've basically spelled out Oblivion's identity here. Poor Kyoko.

Until next time, everyone.