It's been a while since I posted anything on this site. Felt I might as well throw my story out here after seeing the range of crossovers for this fandom. I doubt this will go the way you think it will, but it will be interesting to learn if anyone likes reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.
This is cross-posted on Ao3, so if you recognize it, there is no need to feel alarmed. There's no update schedule so there's no point in asking about it but if I start a pattern, I'll try to stick with it. The rating is for graphic depictions of violence and adult themes but anything explicit will be posted exclusively on Ao3.
Not sure if disclaimers are still neccessary, but it goes for the whole story that I don't own Bloodborne or Mass Effect. Nor do I profit from sharing this story. If, for whatever reason, this story is ever removed from this site, you can find it on Ao3.
This is a Fem Hunter/Aria and Fem Shepard/Tali story. This will be gay. And while I'm at it, this is also an AU in most every way and not even remotely compatible with Mass Effect 3. If you don't care for any of it, please don't read my story, lol. For those who do, enjoy!
The workshop was on fire, and it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
Saya's eyes reflected its all-consuming light, ebony drinking in the warmth of the flames. Its heat warmed her clean clothes, shining off the cold metal of her newly sharpened weapons. Something in her settled at the sight of dancing smoke rising into the stars to escape the ashes beneath it, a sign that things were finally moving forward.
The petals of moonlit buds stain red as she walks through the garden, twirling blades idly in her hands as she comes to stand before the man who started the eternal hunt.
"Gerhman," she greets the first hunter, too casual for all the way her heart burns at the sight of this man, the way her throat clenches tight at the words gone unsaid.
Crow's feet creased around glassy eyes. Gerhman looked at her without seeing her. His wheelchair was like a wilted throne on top of the hill—a ruler of a kingdom long fallen. His people suffered a fate worse than death, yet he still sent his knights to patrol the streets of Yharman to gather their souls for the one who allowed him to live this dream.
It took her so long to understand that hunters did not protect people; they were just survivors drenched in the blood of those who did not live through the night.
"Saya, you have done well," he says, and the hunter falters at the casual address.
"You're rather calm for a man who's just lost everything," she observes with narrowed eyes, pulling down her mask to hide nothing of her feelings. Saya does not know what to do with such nonchalance after everything she has seen, what she's experienced after countless deaths; she no longer knows what it means to fear mortal danger. But there was always a reason to fear what she would live through.
She loathes dying, sure. But fear does not belong there when death is only temporary. To her, it was just another step, another obstacle to pass.
"The workshop will be reborn, as are all things in this realm." Gerhman doesn't even look annoyed, blank, as he's always been like he's seen this all before. "And the doll?" She prodded, having found her friend as hollow as the day she first saw her before she understood anything of the cosmos.
For the first time since she found Gerhman crying in the meadow, a grimace sent his eyes to the workshop, heartbreak in his eyes. "Maria's soul has left the nightmare. There is nothing left in this realm to tie her echo here, even in the doll," he mourned this, but Saya was relieved by the outcome, happy that both halves of a soul were free from his obsession.
"May they find peace," Saya says, rubbing her thumb across the tear embedded in the pommel of her blade.
Gerhman turned his attention back to her at her words, eyes alight with an emotion she could not name. "And what of you, Saya? Will you find your worth in the waking world?"
Hating that he used the doll's words as his own, Saya could not bite down her anger. "What are you talking about?"
"The hunt has been long; the night is nearing its end. Dawn rises for you if you allow yourself peace," Gerhman explains like this means something to her. Like there is a different world to go back to.
The world is plague-ridden; the land is blackened and dead, and people are dying with it. Yharman was just the beginning, the source of the world's end. She had come here, sick with the plague, looking for their healing miracles, and was greeted with excellent hospitality that left her crippled and helpless in the clinic. Left to die and hope she'd succumb to the plague before the beasts awakened in the night.
Saya signed a contract of blood to survive the night. In return, she'd give her life to serve as a Hunter and live long enough to see the world fall to ruin. She may have found a loophole to make it bearable, but that didn't change the debt she owed.
Doubtful of a way out, Saya asks, "at what cost?"
"The final death," Gerhman replies grimly, rising from his chair on bone-weary knees that crack and tremble as he stands for the first time in centuries. "You will remember naught this dream; a mortal life to define as your own again."
Hunters don't fulfill their contracts so quickly. Their lives do not end with the Hunt and begin anew like this never happened. Gerhman isn't fooling her. He's the surrogate. He only serves the old one who gave him this dream.
"No," she declines, putting some distance between her and the old hunter. The offer does not feel right. Dying here means ending the contract. That leaves her soul unclaimed, her body full of the blood to become a beast come the next blood moon.
If she were lucky, her spirit would wake in a new realm, shaped by her memories and a wish for it to be different, unaware of the lie, believing she found peace as she's trapped for eternity - A good death as far as deaths go.
But not for someone like Saya.
"What was it?" Gerhman asks, picking up his crutch and revealing the trick weapon with a flick of his wrist and a hard crunch of wood; the sickle snapped on to reveal a horrible scythe. "The hunt, the blood, or the horrible dream?" He mocks, gesturing to the peaceful illusion that had long shattered when she gained the insight to see it as it were.
Blood-painted flowers, fissure-like cracks in the sky, and a blood moon descending in the corner of her eye. This realm belonged to a great one; never had they been benevolent to people: the millions of souls she had sacrificed to it in return for power told her that much.
She reaches for her pouch and withdraws the three cords she had collected throughout the Hunt. A surrogate would recognize these anywhere. His shoulders tensing confirmed what she knew about him. "It was realizing how far people will go for this."
With her other hand, Saya pressed her bloodstone amulet to her lips for courage, made of the most abhorred blood in the lands. The blood of her beloved, whose suffering was the reason she chose this path. There was no going back.
It would be an insult to even consider such.
"You do not know what you're doing," Gerhman cautions, but his warnings fall on deaf ears. "I made a promise to hunt the Great Ones," Saya confesses, crushing the umbilical cords in her hand.
She smiles, feeling the tightness that has long held her heart slip away, and with it, the Moon Presence loses its claim on her soul. The look on Gerhman's face was sweet in its devastation.
Saya raises her blades in promise. "For Arianna."
Gerhman was quick and ruthless. He had leaped at her, scythe swinging, with such precision it was only her automatic reflex to dodge sudden movement that saved her from decapitation.
He was unlike anyone she had fought before - a master hunter who lived long enough not to see himself become a beast, with skill and experience far outclassing her own. Even a weapon as cumbersome as a scythe left her at a disadvantage; a single blow landed properly would surely kill her.
Saya flipped away from Gerhman's relentless swings, feeling the swish of air as the sickle just missed her, and barely caught herself before she could drop into the blank space that brushed against her back. Seeing the opportunity, Gerhman charged at her, leaving her nowhere to run.
With gritted teeth, Saya lunged forward, body turning incorporeal just as the edge reached the space she stood before. She appeared behind Gerhman with blades crossed, slashing furiously and bounding back before he could have gutted her with a counter swing.
Saya smirks, metal singing as her weapon first draws blood, and when the hunter coldly turns to consider her, Saya's tongue darts out for a taste. With a surge of power, Saya's vision tunnels to read Gerhman's body better than he knows himself. She hears the lurch of his heartbeat and scents the chemosignals of disgust, so strong she can taste the determination to kill her from here.
The shift of the wind is all she needs to rush forward as Gerhman moves, blades snapping together as she rolls, scythe stabbing down where she was before. She snaps her pistol from its holster as the hunter is left wide open. The hunter vanishes before her bullet can hit him, reappearing out of range to break apart his weapon, blunderbuss falling into his free hand.
Too risky to keep firing, she holsters her pistol in the snap-second it takes Gerhman to charge.
Faster now, Gerhman reaches her before she can get in a defensive position. She abruptly turns on her heel, ducking under the blade as the old hunter spins it back around, swinging it in any direction she moved like it barely broke a sweat. The hunter fired over any distance she tried to put between them, and she nearly exhausted herself, ghosting through them.
Saya's lips peeled back in a snarl. Forcing her momentum to stop, she dug her heels in the soil and split her blades to catch the next attack, grunting at the force as the steel pressed against her daggers.
Unable to stop it, she pushed outward while stepping to the side, redirecting the scythe in the opposite direction - leaving Gerhman off-balanced.
She pounces on him, daggers sinking to the hilt of his shoulders, and tears herself away with her feet pushing off him. His shout of pain is music to her ears. With the scent of the hunter's intoxicating blood heavy in the air, her blood sings to Gerhman's heartbeat. Exhilarated by the sensation, Saya feels like she's dancing around his attacks like they were in the ballroom instead of the battlefield.
Having enough of her, Gerhman lunges away from her, holstering his firearm before his feet have retaken the ground. His scythe is in his hand again before Saya has finished regaining the distance between them, and she lunges back, realizing she's lost her advantage.
Unfortunately, Saya was a second too late to avoid the blast of arcane power. Knocked to the ground, it takes only the sight of the hunter's aura to flip back to her feet, putting as much ground between them as possible as an explosion decimates the garden. A crater is what Gerhman falls to, weapon smoking with green light. He vanishes from sight, and only his scent in the air saves her from his ambush from above.
Embodied with cosmic power, he was faster, stronger, and never seemed to tire. Saya is quickly losing and being herded into a corner. With reckless instinct, Saya takes the weakest swing head-on, allowing Gerhman's surprise to pave the opportunity to slip a pellet from her pouch into her mouth.
It wasn't the euphoric rush that drinking blood was. Blood pellets weren't fresh; it wasn't the transference of power from their soul, the echoes of their lives.
It was hardened blood, crystalized over time from when a person died, and was reborn into a monster. To consume it was to wear an echo of what manner of the beast they became; the will to survive no matter the cost.
The mess of severed muscle in her shoulder ignited as it healed, fire rushing through her veins, and the flash of agony brought her to her knees. Saya howled, sounding haunted and beastly, as her bones snapped and regrew into a different skeleton. Her jaw swelled as new teeth replaced the old, skin tearing open, making room for the new body, and dark fur grew from the mended skin.
By the end, Saya's blood painted the ground, and her hands flexed with claws reaching the length of her forearm. With heaving breaths, she straightened until her heels no longer touched the ground, setting her eyes on her prey.
With the blades of mercy cast aside, the last of her humanity left her with a monstrous scream. When she leaps forward in a tornado of claws, Gerhman's ghost step only makes her sniff the air to tell where he'll reappear. With claws dragging against the ground, she leaped at him, shrieking when it was too late to stop her, and ripped through him in a shower of blood.
He cried out, dropping his scythe to blast her with his blunderbuss, and she hissed as it knocked her back, puncture wounds barely gushing with the blood she was starved of. He took the opportunity to disconnect the blade from his scythe, blasting her again when she tensed in anticipation.
Snarling, Saya shrieked as he came in range to cut her down, bursting in a blaze of claws as he faltered to the deafening sound. She ripped the startled hunter's gun from his grasp with her hands and threw it aside. Gerhman slammed the blade's pommel against her head in retaliation, leaving her dazed to the next attack, dragging across her chest, and she swore she felt it saw through every bump of her rib cage.
The beast faded from her broken body, leaving her crying out in pain and panting for breath between every whimper. Saya shifted to her knees as she felt her conscience return to look up at the old hunter who hadn't finished her.
He chuckled at the judgment in her eyes like she was a student who had mistaken a mentor's teachings. "A hunter's end should be humane."
He would consider this a mercy, she scoffed but to survive the hunt with her mind intact, Saya had to let go of what she thought made her human and become like the very thing she hunts. The skill she paid for in blood, the strength she bought with souls; none of it mattered for as long as she died against stronger enemies, unable to learn a whole new way of living.
Dying wasn't pretty; killing wasn't an art - but the struggle to survive was. Humanity was a weakness; mercy did not belong in battle. Who knew that better than a beast?
She learned the hard way; compassion always results in personal suffering. It was up to her to think of the consequences and decide if they were worth it. If she were too arrogant to believe it couldn't happen, Saya only had herself to blame for the fallout.
Gerhman raised his blade for proper execution, leaving his whole front open and vulnerable to her - believing she had surrendered to her fate like a good and proper hunter. But the thing about Yharman was that their people didn't turn to beasts because they accepted they would die; they wanted to live more than anything else.
Gerhman realizes her ruse a second too late, and by the time the old hunter has ripped himself away from her, Saya's already got her claws hooked in.
Blood paints her face as his throat is torn, and Saya sighs. "Consider my conscious clear."
She watches as he drowns in his own blood, terror bright in his eyes as he feels his time quickly running out, and she doesn't feel a speck of remorse for killing him. There was a time and place to be human.
When his body finally slackens, and she hears a haunting scream of despair, Saya knows where to look when her maker descends.
Of all the old gods she's seen, the Moon Presence is the least monstrous, but the sensation she gets from it is undeniable. It is furious and wounded, the surrogates' death taking the bridge between their realms with him.
It doesn't even focus on her as it falls beside Gerhman's body; his blood is still warm on the soil made with his memories. Dozens of tentacles seem to caress his form as if checking to see if nothing can be done, and with a hiss, it turns its whole body to face her.
Her broken body and blood loss keep her from going to a defensive stance. The great one takes her lack of hostility with intrigue as it nears her, head cocked without eyes to focus on her, an unnerving sight she swallows down.
She does not feel its presence as she once did. Does not feel the power inside her as someone else's when the doll gave it for the lives she took. The thread that tied her to the old god had been severed, but the Moon Presence still felt its power within her.
When she felt it enter her mind, the eldritch truth etched in her mind to see and experience reality as it was designed; there was a very brief moment where she became a part of its mind too.
Then there was pain; a flash of agony so intense she screamed and heard it echoed by the old one mirroring her, its tentacles wrapping around its head as if to barricade itself from her. She felt its presence linger in her mind and met it with a mental shove with all her strength, understanding what it had sought from her and slamming the door closed as she threw it out.
When she opened her eyes, the pain was fading into a dull throb, and the aura around the Moon Presence tasted of blood; the desire to kill her mirrored by her own.
But even while they were both weakened by Gerhman's death, Saya knew she was the most vulnerable between them.
Her clothing was tattered by the transformation, and with no death affordable to automatically mend them, she knew she couldn't count on it to protect her. Her equipment was intact due to clever placement. Saya withdrew three blood vials and injected them into her one after the other.
And unlike Gerhman, the old god didn't pounce on her when she tried to heal. It made her all too aware of the cold sweat beading down the side of her head and neck, knowing that no matter what happened here, this was the end of her life as she knew it.
Arianna's blood rock still hung around her neck, and its chill was a comfort against her breast. Her eyes narrowed with motivation renewed, and she slowly got back on her feet, the vials healing enough to keep her out of immediate danger, but her limbs still felt too heavy, and her mind was fuzzy like her body was close to knocking her out to recover.
It didn't, though. Saya trained that response out long ago. Instead, she bore its warnings, the symptoms that made every step hurt, and kept her eyes on the god as she slowly backed away to where her weapons fell.
The fact that it allowed her this was more terrifying than if it had attacked her the second Gerhman fell. Fighting gods could never be classified as easy; they were intelligent in ways humans couldn't comprehend, and their reasons for doing something couldn't be compared to their motives.
For all she understood; the things her eyes could see, the insight into their twisted creations - even now, there were things still she would never understand, nor did she care to.
The moment the daggers were back in her possession, the Moon Presence roared; and the very clouds darkened and swirled above. In a clash of thunder, rain thundered down upon them the color of blood. The god leaped; its massive form was a great shadow she barely had time to dodge, twisting her body out of reach of a lashing tentacle with a yelp.
She stumbled as she landed but didn't give herself so much of a second to recover. She let the movement take her, and it saved her again from another tentacle, rolling across the ground, lacking any grace but making up for it with the speed that could only be taught by desperation.
As she dropped down the decline of the hill, she maneuvered so she'd kick up on her feet and leaped, avoiding the god's arrival by a hair's breadth and using the opportunity to stab down, severing one of its tails.
Its shriek of pain was like the wind itself. Its fury spun its limbs too fast for her to know where to dodge. The god didn't relent, picking her up in its hand and slamming her down repeatedly until she felt like all her ribs were broken.
But it presented her an opportunity as she lay beneath it and saw its ribcage cracked open in a parody of her own. It was soaked in dried blood and flesh, its breath shifting, heaving muscles that almost seemed to glow.
Fire burst from her bloodied hands, and she stabbed upward, unleashing the torrent with a rewarding shriek that sent chills down her spine but gave her the reprieve she desperately needed as it escaped her reach.
As fast as she could, she took a syringe in each hand and jabbed down on both thighs once, twice, and thrice before her life fell back in her hands. The god had looked a little burned alive, but now, as a whirlwind wrapped around it to put out the flames, Saya wondered if it symbolized what it was.
The bones of its ribcage were ashes, and more of its muscles were visible, glowing, and pulsing at the time of its breath. But aside from looking more stripped away, it was unharmed.
Unharmed and furious.
Saya spread the fire to her blades, light warming her skin where it touched harmlessly. The Moon Presence lunged at her, fists slamming down where she stood before, barely evading as she jumped through the gaps, tentacles piercing the ground beside her as she crawled beneath it.
Saya scowled in frustration but rolled away as it gave a spin of its own. When its tentacles surrounded her, she kicked out, spinning in a whirlwind of force to sever them. Her blades cut and burned; the god's flinch sent it back.
Her heart was hammering so fast that the world sharpened through the haze of black spots. Her fingers shook as she slipped a vial into her hand, but instead of injecting it, she popped the cap off and downed it, tasting the sweet blood with no time to savor it.
Veins running up and down her arms pulsed with the power consumed, and she charged, leaving a trail of fire. Just as she reached it, the ground shifted beneath her, and she fell - legs slipping beneath her in a fatal mistake.
Her breath caught, and her eyes snapped up, surprised to be alive, only to find the Moon Presence still; its head tilted to the sky like it was listening to something.
So taken by the sight, Saya was entirely unprepared for the explosion bursting inside her head, followed by a rush of memories not her own, visions of foreign land among the stars, and the sight of an old god's destruction. She hears screams of anguish, shrieks, and screeches echo inhumanely yet full of emotion as intense as her own.
Then it was over, and Saya caught herself before she could faint, kneeling on the ground and blinking the shadows from her eyes. Her vulnerability amid battle should've ended her, but as she looked up at the Moon Presence, they seemed to dismiss her presence entirely.
"You saw it, too," she breathes in realization.
Before she can make any sort of decision; maybe an attempt to restart their fight, the Moon Presence turns away from her entirely and raises its hands; glowing with the power of the cosmos; the galaxies swirling around it and the dream contorting and blurring.
Dazed by the sight, Saya stumbles only to realize the space beneath her has disappeared, white and blank, as the realm loses all life and color around her.
Knowing this won't end well, feeling it in her soul, she charges forward, ready to throw herself at the great one recklessly. She had to stop this, whatever it was doing, but the space between them seemed to widen impossibly. She was running and could feel the aches in her muscles, but it was as if time wasn't a construct.
Saya didn't know what more she could do and tried to reach for her power, only to be met with a blast of energy that sent her back - and she just dropped. A sea of stars flew over her as she fell, and the endless night sky carried her endlessly until there was no more light.
And in that darkness, Saya knew she had well and truly lost.
Forgive me, she thought.
Wherever she was, wherever they were going, her only comfort was knowing she had been taken alongside the great one in this endless tide.
Cerys bit down the instinctual wince as her shoulder muscles spasmed, dislodging her grip with the sudden attack that she nearly dropped the crate. "Sorry," she muttered, eyes evading her crewmate's as she steadied its weight in her one good hand.
She saw the moment comprehension lit in his eyes, and he lowered his side before she could claim she was okay. Cerys was the commander, yet she would not make foolish orders, no matter how tempted she was to cover for her weaknesses.
"Don't worry about it, Commander." It was clear that he had forgotten her injury, and as much as she wanted to say the same, she hadn't. She just needed to put her body to work and make her mind disappear under the repetition of routine.
Unable to use her body, she tried to put her mind to work as she checked in on their codex to see how much they needed to get done before they made it to their next stop. But now that her shoulder was aching something fierce. All her attention was on the pain, and she grits her teeth, wishing for it to pass.
Everything has changed, and this painful companion constantly reminds her of what she is trying not to think about. Her mind was trying to protect her by falling into the past to escape her present pain. Her vision flashed, and she pressed all her weight down on one foot to keep herself from falling as she lost control.
The floor was trembling harder than her hands were shaking. The tension in her arms and her feet stomping as she sprinted were the only things keeping her steady. She was behind her comrades when the ceiling began to cave, great columns of crushing weight falling loose and deadly obstacles she had to anticipate to evade. It's why she saw where the next was falling and how Ashely was oblivious to its approach. There wasn't time for more than a split-second decision, and then she was lunging, throwing her entire body off course, and shoving Ashley to the side. She felt the shadow before everything went dark, her last thought being the suddenness of cold before the weight slammed into her.
She squeezed her eyes, the memory triggered, grabbing hold of her with a phantom sensation she felt through her entire body, trembling despite all her efforts to make it unnoticeable. No one had noticed before, but Cerys couldn't take the chance.
It was hard to breathe, and everything was dark and dusty as the debris shifted and settled around her. She wasn't aware of anything else until she saw her arm disappear under the rubble. Only then did the blinding agony register, silent and overwhelming as she could do nothing but experience it. There was no escape from it; she couldn't voice it - couldn't make a way out.
The rest of her body was also pinned down, but it was nothing like the state of her arm, and trying to feel how bad it was only jostled the arm that every second she still found herself alive; she hated herself more for wishing she wasn't. Knowing if people knew she was alive, they'd be trying to get her out - asking her to hold on.
She did not want to die in the line of duty like this, where she could feel the air in the cracks and hear the screams and suffering of countless others trapped and in need like her. Not when every breath made the floor creak and shift slightly, reminding her how unstable the structure was and not wanting to be alive to experience its collapse.
Cerys did not want to die alone, nor could she like someone else to suffer like this. She knew that no one would think she had survived after spending all her energy and medicine during the fight, her omni-tool broken, and her body in no better state. But thinking about being left for dead made her hate herself for still being alive to feel it because she forgave her comrades when there was nothing to forgive because there was no way for them to know they left her behind to die in agony.
She wished she wasn't alive, but neither did she want to die. Unable to block out the pain, her reality, she could do nothing but hold on and wish it would end, unable to bring herself to rest even if she wanted to because this isn't how she wanted to die.
She tried to hold onto the relief and happiness she felt because Ashely could see her sisters again, but it was overshadowed by the painful memories summoned by her panic.
Cerys thought about what her life amounted to outside of the pain and the anger she was feeling. Her self-hatred grew every moment she held out until it was the only thing she could think about. Because now there wasn't a future for her to try to protect herself from.
Cerys was self-aware enough to recognize that she was intelligent enough to put together the clues of her place in the world and the role she played in people's lives if she dwelled on the details. If she wanted to know the truth about what people thought of her. How much they wanted her to hurt. To use her for their own gains. It was a life she chose to run from the one she made for herself, choosing to have her choices taken out of her hands, but becoming a Spectre had made her face the consequences of her actions, regardless of whose decisions were behind them.
Cerys hated herself for not wanting to go back to the way things were before because, for the first time, she could stop her limbs from shaking just by thinking about how she would change moving forward. After a decade of service in the Alliance, she felt like she had lost what made her human. The Council changed that, bringing back a side of her better left forgotten.
"Shepard?" She barely heard; they didn't even register.
It wasn't until hands gently caught her own that the unique texture of a quarian suit drew her attention, anchoring her to the present.
"Cerys," Tali whispered, and her fingers dusted over her palms for only a moment before retracting. Cerys shivered, feeling breathless, as she blinked heavily into awareness.
She pushed down the dark place her mind had gone and watched Tali with her heart in her throat, shifting back as she realized her vulnerability.
"You okay?" Tali asked so softly that Cerys could hardly take a breath. A beat, then she swallowed the lie as she looked away. "Not particularly."
"Things will get better," the quarian replied, and the way she said the words, Cerys felt the sentiment shared between them, and her lips twitched in appreciation.
She closes her eyes and breathes deeply. She shouldn't have feared. Tali never made her feel like she had to hide. It is both unsettling and endearing, but she has so few people she can lower her guard down; she'll never turn her away.
So she raises her eyes to Tali's and sighs. "It doesn't feel like it."
She watches as her throat lights up when she hums, the color a beacon in the dark room. Tali echoes the sound. "It won't, not for a long time," she admits heavily. "But one day, you'll stop and realize it stopped holding you back."
"Stay with me," Tali whispers, stepping closer, "and take it one day at a time."
Cerys swallows, blinking through her tears. Having her fears confirmed that it would never stop hurting was hard to hear, but the thought of not facing it alone made it a weight worth bearing.
Even though she couldn't see it, she imagined Tali was smiling and returned it before ducking her head in a nod.
They didn't say anything more for a long while. Cerys can't stop the slight quirk of her lips as they stand side by side, watching their crew work with the warmth of this shared moment. Then she catches Tali looking at her, hands wringing as she grapples for words.
Cerys blinks, steps back, and straightens as she takes up the mantle of commander again. With her face now cleared of emotion, Tali flinches minutely, and despite not seeing her expression, it looks a lot like regret.
Cerys wants to wince, to reach out and show her it's okay. But her expression doesn't change, and she doesn't move. What she wants and how she feels are two different things, and she couldn't lower her guard if she tried.
With a hand on her hip, Tali steps away, putting more distance between them. "Shepard," she says, her voice soft now and calm in contrast to her earlier fidgeting. "Preston was asking for you."
She frowned, wondering what could possibly be on the man's mind. He had been quiet; lately, the man she knew to be so opinionated had been strictly professional since they left the Citadel.
"He's picked up some strange reading as the Normandy approaches Alchera. "
"That's odd," Shepard muses, and Tali relaxes as the ice breaks between them. The earlier warmth isn't returning, but it's not as tense as before. Her friend nods, understanding what she didn't say.
"I thought he hated me," Tali admits, with a morose tone that was telling. There was sorrow in her voice that hurt Cerys just hearing it. Shepard clenches her hands, reminded of her arguments with her crew just to get them to see the others as people.
Tali noticed, her tone changing to a more humorous one. "You helped change his mind."
Cerys closed her eyes to keep them from rolling. "I sincerely doubt that."
"I wouldn't lie to you," Tali refuted, and somehow it didn't feel like they were talking about Preston anymore.
Cerys stared at Tali, who abruptly turned and started walking towards the elevator, waving at her to keep up. "Anyone who gave us a hard time is too afraid to say anything now."
Cerys didn't want them to fear her. That wouldn't change anything, at least not for the better.
"They don't want to disappoint you, Shepard."
Oh. It was a cold comfort, though, ruling people by fear. Was it really the right thing to do when their heart wasn't in it?
Tali knew her well because she started explaining. "Even if they don't understand, they're trying." It didn't feel good, but Shepard wouldn't betray her feelings on the matter. But then Tali turned to her as they got in the lift. "It's more than anyone has done before."
Cerys swallowed, not sure it was as good a sign as Tali was taking it. But as she looked at her friend, the lack of tension in her posture, she couldn't bring herself to take away her hope.
"How can you just let go of what he said about you?" She asks instead.
Tali tilts her head, consideringly. "Because he wasn't seeing me." She explains. "I wasn't hurt by what he said; I was hurt by his choice: I was a target of his anger and not a person to understand."
"And now he's trying to get to know you," Cerys summarized.
Tali nodded, practically bouncing on her feet with her following words. "The other day, I saw him having a very intense debate on the weapon's calibrated systems with Garrus."
Cerys burst into surprised laughter at the admission. "Seriously? Well, I'm glad I no longer have to be the exception of humanity."
Tali broke into giggles unexpectedly, leaving Cerys staring at her wide-eyed, wondering what was so funny.
"You will always be the exception."
Cerys's heart skipped a beat, the only sign of how those words paralyzed her. "I- Tali, I was being serious."
Tali chuckled as she started counting down with her fingers. "Shepard, I heard many great things about humans and their vehicles. But you don't know how to drive."
Indignant, Cerys grumbled, "I know how to drive."
Tali stared her down, hands perched on her hips tellingly. "You drove the mako off a hilltop, which backflipped in the air, and it was only luck we hit the Thresher Maw instead of being eaten by it."
Cerys's felt the warmth of blush stretch across her neck as it was all laid out like that. She ducked her head quickly to hide it, covering her face with her hand as she groaned.
As if that wasn't bad enough, Tali kept going on, gesturing with enough passion that they were drawing the crew's attention. Will this torment never end?
"You've talked insane psychopaths down with such compassion they didn't know what to do with themselves, promising to help you when they had tried to kill you seconds before."
She was making it sound much worse than it was, really.
"Please stop," Cerys pleads, glaring at her. Tali didn't.
"And you threatened your entire crew, chain of command, and comrades you've fought beside for years just so your alien crew members could feel at home on your ship. Despite having nothing to gain but enemies."
"Tali," she doesn't whine, begging the quarian with her eyes that she got the point. Tali snickered, lowering her tone so her following words were just between them.
"And somehow, despite doing everything the hard way on the mere chance things could turn out differently, you make things better," Tali finished smugly just as the elevator arrived.
Amusement radiates from Tali's voice. "Admit it, there's no one like you."
Cerys made a show of leaping into the elevator like the room was on fire, her face burning as she huffed. "Goodbye, Tali."
Tali laughs at her, wagging her fingers teasingly as the elevator doors close, mercifully not following her. Cerys muffled the smirk that tugged at the corner of her lips and forced a slow breath, nerves straining as she took back an allure of professionalism.
But she thought about what Tali said. Dwelled on the woman more than her words before sighing long until it ended in chuckles, mirth fluttering her heart and pulling her from the dark place her mind had gone at long last.
"There's no one like you, either," she confessed, just to herself. When the elevator doors opened, she had composed herself and paid mind to her crew as she walked over to Preston, making him look up from his display.
"What's your report?" She asked, looking over his shoulders at the mapping data.
"All systems are running smoothing, crew morale is good, and you have a few messages waiting for you on your terminal."
Cerys judged an eyebrow at him. "Is that what you wanted to tell me?" She quirked a slight, almost teasing, smirk at him. Preston was usually a rigid man, but she read the situation correctly when the man huffed a light chuckle.
"No, Commander, ah, Shepard," he amended when he caught her faint scolding look at the formality for personal opinions. He quickly recovered his bearings and straightened, hands at his side, looking a second away from bowing.
If not for her military training, Cerys would've taken a step back at his demeanor.
"I wish to formally apologize for my behavior in the past. It was unprofessional and inhumane of me to question your decisions openly regarding a culturally diverse crew. I was ignorant, small-minded, and not befitting the station as your second-in-command."
Cerys didn't know what to say, but with widened eyes as she took in her comrade, she knew whatever she said next would make an impact. She thought of Tali's words and asked, "what brought this on?" Her mind was still on his peculiar choice of words.
He glanced to the side, a softer look on his features as he thought of someone. "My daughter. My relationship with her has been rough being in the military. She felt I would always choose the Alliance over the importance of anything else. When she heard of the Normandy's role in the Battle of Citadel and how diverse and welcoming the crew was, she told me how proud she was to have me as my father. That I was not who she thought I was."
Cerys swallowed, reading between the lines.
Preston's eyes narrowed in determination. "I realized then what we were fighting for. All people. Just because someone isn't human doesn't mean I have to be inhumane. Humanity should not be defined by a species, but by a code of principles we hold ourselves to."
He smiled wryly. "Though I suppose another word for it should just be common decency."
Cerys barked a laugh then and clapped the man on the shoulder. "Things may have been strained between us before, I'll admit," she began, looking him right in the eyes. "But let's put it behind us for a better future. Make your daughter proud, yes?"
He nodded firmly. "Commander."
Dismissing him, she left him to his duties and headed for her terminal, logging in to review the messages. She noted that the Summit hadn't changed, but the meeting with the Councilors had been moved up. She held back a sigh at that, apprehensive of continuing the conversation she had last had with them on the Citadel.
Hopefully, things will be better now; the post-battle mentality takes a while to shake off. She looked forward to them speaking level with each other, not clouded with emotions and shock at how close their victory had been. She squinted; there was another message about the planet they were passing on to the fuel depot.
Cerys walked over to her pilot, taking in the glacial blue planet of Alchera through the screen. She was just about to get Joker's attention when she stumbled.
Cerys barely paid any mind to the floor jerking underneath her as the Normandy abruptly stopped or Joker's alarmed shouting. There was just the world spinning into colors, phasing in and out of obscurity, and she reached out -
Only to drop as the sudden presence of an itch drew all her focus and her hands went to her head, trying to dig into the space inside, needing to soothe the ache inside. It was a peculiar sensation, like an etching in wood inside her head, and her discomfort spiked as the pressure dug deeper - went inward.
She clawed at the sensation, reaching and reaching, only to feel her hands wrenched away from herself. She writhed against the hold, needing to release the itch, and shook her head to dislodge the sensation - only for the pressure to grow heavier and heavier until Cerys lost all sense.
Helpless, she could do nothing but endure the weight pressing down on her head, the itching and pinching felt in the back of her eyes. The longer it went on, the more she needed it to be over as more sensations overwhelmed her, something tangible wrapping around her brain and making the itch burrow deeper that it hurt.
Blip, blop, drip, drop .
Like water droplets falling, she felt it against the back of her eyes, never-ending and infuriating.
She needed to stop it; she needed to see what it was doing to her, the itch she couldn't scratch, the fluidness that coiled around her brain, the pressure that dug in.
She needed-
E̶y̶e̶s̶
She needed to see and know the truth. She needed to learn! She didn't understand. Not yet. Not yet. She just needed to see more. Needed it like an itch she couldn't scratch, like the abyss that looked back at her and the ghosts in her mind.
Cerys froze, sensing a presence withdraw, a visceral weight off her mind. She followed its departure, found how it arrived and where it left the doorway wide open like a mantra taught as a child, not her words but someone else's. Here she couldn't think; it was a bright and blinding pathway, but Cerys didn't want to turn away.
Instead, she stepped through the threshold and reached for the light. Everything fell away; her thoughts, her intentions, her sense of self.
In its place, another being tied itself to her. Reminiscent of a meld, their thoughts and feelings replacing the passage of her own.
The pain was crippling, but you had to keep moving, forced to watch but unable to reach out as your child was taken from you. You scream a sound that cannot be comprehended by his killers. An echo resonating across the void to all who understand. When they struck him, you felt like you'd been the one that died instead.
How many more would you lose, a child given and a child taken?
You see all who came before them, those who rose and fell, but there is no replacement this time. Never again. Blood in the streets, bodies writhing as if possessed, a beating heart struck through...
Endless darkness; the creaking of a gate.
Cerys fought the sensation, the connection straining as she resisted its pull. But it was too strong, pressuring her until she fell back deeper, losing awareness.
You scream, paralyzed, and for all intentions dead, as your body is taken apart and manufactured in the hands of those that destroyed you. The part that tied you to your gods is gone; your life is sundered and given meaning only by those who can use you.
You did not make it this far to end up like this. You are far from alive; your will is not your own. But even broken, you have influence as long as mortals rely on you to give themselves power.
You have no choice but to let them mutilate you, laying in wait as every accomplishment of taking from you leaves them weak. Their weariness of what you were - what you are - fades, allowing you to reach into their minds and take what they have from you.
You live in them; beyond their comprehension, unable to stop their descent into madness as they become mere tools to enact your will.
Their arrogance will cost them everything, as all those had come before, and even you once.
There was no place to run, no voice to plead with them to stop, no way to resist. It was like she was drowning, but Cerys didn't black out even long after she stopped holding her breath.
Flashes of memory then came; too fast to make sense of, but you couldn't look away, like being forced to stare into the sun too long, its light bleeding into everything else you once saw.
You are Cerys, Sovereign, and those who came before. You are what is worshipped and taboo, civilizations unmade and created in your image, blood spilled in the whispers of your names.
You are the end of all things.
Planet by planet circle a system, each eclipsing in the light as something approaches you, a massive presence you can't see through the starbursts in your eyes but are paralyzed in terror by proximity.
People, her kin, filled the streets, blood soaking the land of every planet she had walked. Sinking into the soil, traveling in a current that leads out of sight, skin tearing and reshaping as a new skeleton forms beneath.
Bodies missing their eyes and organs; their essence - replaced with foreign matter, reshaped into monstrous things with no identity. They are reaching for her, mouths gaping and moaning. For want or pain, you cannot distinguish.
And when all the worlds end and all life has been harvested, these husks that vessel their will are taken apart, and nothing left of their presence remains. Their fingerprint on the world was erased.
You drift in the endless space, watching a planet supernova, taking out several in the system like a wave of fire that never quenches its thirst.
Never-ending; all-consuming; Cerys can do nothing but watch as the flames take her, and every nerve ignites in agony, unlike anything she's experienced.
Stranded in a light so bright, it was a void because you do not have the eyes to see what lay beyond. What you feel now is only a fraction of what you have caused and what you will endure.
Then the connection is severed, the door snaps closed, and Cerys is yanked back into consciousness. Everything is fuzzy, her ears are ringing, and her face feels numb.
Every muscle in her face is sore, and her throat feels scrapped raw. It's too much, and Cerys closes her eyes, falling into the darkness that drags her into its endless sea.
But just before oblivion takes her, she feels something seep into the cracks of her fractured mind. Something lost; that had never been but was always part of her.
Cerys was not alone anymore.
Saya is hunted relentlessly. Ever since she woke up here, she had but a moment to take in a land full of life and wonder at the forests that never darkened before aggression tainted the fresh air and a massive beast leaped out from the trees.
Only her sense of smell saved her from the ambush predator, and since then, she had lost track of the days as more beasts tracked her down and pursued her to the ends of the world.
Saya was pushed to new lengths of survival, and not even Yharman compared to the struggle to stay alive because at least then she had a refuge in the dream after death. But here she was alone, with no home or sense of time. There was no time to think.
Saya stepped away from her makeshift shelter, ducking under the branches as the torrential rain deafened her to all but the storm; the wind blowing so fierce she had to redo the cover twice as it toppled each time.
The clouds darkened the sky. While the beasts didn't seem to stop to rest, Saya had to make the time to sleep whenever the opportunity presented itself. And here, at last, her scent was muffled by the shifts in the wind.
Lightning struck nearby. Too close as Saya was blinded, bringing her hands up instinctively and hit with unexpected force. The breath was banished from her lungs as her back met the tree, her shelter breaking her fall and causing the leaves to downturn all their water on her with enough force; she lost her footing.
Her abrupt fall is all that saved her from being gutted. A guttural roar deafened her as the great shadow of her attacker towered over her. Yet even though the beast had her pinned, it did not finish her there.
Saya gaped as bark splintered above her when the source of its hesitation was revealed, its claws wedged between the tree trunks, unmoving no matter how it shifted.
Never let it be said beasts weren't intelligent. Saya was forced to dive when it kicked its hindlegs at her, claws raking down on the spot she was previously in, and landed in a puddle.
Mud stuck to her clothes, and the dirty water irritated her skin, but Saya could do nothing about it as she stumbled to her feet. She quickly slapped her hair out of her face, leaving it to bounce noisily against her coat, leaving little doubt to the beast where she went. It recovered just as she did, a burst of wood chips sailing into the sky as the beast tore apart the tree that held it.
The tree groaned as it began to tilt, but Saya never heard it fall as thunder rolled just as the beast began its charge, feet kicking up the terrain and leaving her unbalanced as she evaded its deadly claws.
Acting quickly, she spun out of her stumble and slashed the major tendons of the beast's heel, taking a heaving breath as she slid away from it, confident she had just crippled it.
The beast spun around, recovering faster than she anticipated, moving without reaction to its injured foot like it didn't feel pain. Saya's eyes darted across the clearing, and she blurred - beginning to vanish from sight - only for the beast to barrel into it in a dead sprint, countering her ghost step with supernatural speed, disrupting the technique, and sending her flying.
Her vision went red as starbursts colored the back of her eyelids, and the breath completely knocked from her lungs; she forgot herself for a moment, but when claws sunk into her legs and shivered under hot breath, she reacted before she could think.
The beast, for all it hadn't reacted to crippling injuries, flinched away from her with its entire body as she blinded it. Wincing at the gouges in her thighs, Saya knew she had to end this now if she wanted to stay alive.
Pressing a hand against her bruised ribs as she got back to her feet, she realized she couldn't commit to another ghost step in her state. Whatever ability it countered her with was not something she could take another hit from. Her breath nearly stuttered, but she pushed past the pain to take control of her body, turning and launching into a dead sprint before it could make the first move.
Its furious roar met her back, and she felt the tremors in the ground as it pursued her.
She doesn't give it a chance to react when she suddenly changes course for the fallen tree, running up its trunk and leaping when she can build no more momentum. She flew, coming from above the colossal beast with blades out like wings. All it could do was brace as she landed, daggers slamming between its shoulder blades as she mounted the beast, swinging her legs over each side like a horse.
Incensed, it snarls, slamming its forepaws down with a sharp jerk, nearly throwing off her grip. Saya snarled back, twisting the blades deeper, and was rewarded with the beast moving again, twirling in short circles, kicking up and down as it tried to buck her off. The world spun around her, but Saya didn't let it stop her, even as her legs were thrown to one side as it rolled, nearly crushing her beneath its weight.
She breathed when it straightened on all fours, heaving with breath to mirror her exhaustion, and their fight became a battle of wills for who could hold out the longest. There was no time to use her power; a single second was costly if used with poor timing, the beast knowing the moment she tried to back off and pull something clever. All she could do was hold on as it threw everything it had at her, the severed trunk lifting from the air and propelling at her from nothing, leaving her to press herself to its flank to avoid it.
The beast shrieked, throwing its head back as it kicked its legs into the dirt before launching into the same charge as before, and Saya felt the sides of the air press into her as it turned purple. She didn't lose her grip, but the force of its momentum sent her over its head, and when her eyes met its sockets, her heart fell paralyzed.
Its mouth opened, revealing fangs the length of her forearm up close, her time up as she met her end - only for it to twist away from her abruptly. Saya didn't realize why until the air pushed down on her instead of against her.
She pivots, ripping her daggers out of the beast's hide just as its last legs slide from the cliffside, heedless of the sparks its claws creating, trying to pull itself back. Its momentum worked against them, but she leaped anyway, pushing off its head and narrowly missing the bone-shattering clamp of its teeth.
She threw her arms out, stretching her whole body out to reach the distance, but claws raking against her leg threw off her trajectory as the beast either tried to save itself or drag her down with it.
Saya wasn't sure she'd make it. Its final roars echo over the storm, the fading sound telling how far the fall was that she couldn't even see where the sky met the ground.
As her vision tunneled, time seemed to slow, every second warning her of the purgatory awaiting her in death. When Saya slammed into the cliffside, she was breathless and relieved for a split second before she realized she was landed with too much momentum and was sliding right back over the edge.
Saya scrambled at the ground, her fingers scrapped raw as they dragged against the rocks in search of something to grab onto. She gasps as her fingers are caught in a shallow crevice, sharp pain afflicting her as her shoulder dislocates, stopping her descent.
Despite the rain pouring over her and ricocheting off the ground with a deafening sound, her heartbeat is somehow louder, and she feels the sweat like a fevor as it leaves her a shivering mess of hot-cold. It tells her she is somehow still alive, and Saya presses her face against the cliffside with a lethargic sigh.
It's all the reprieve Saya gives herself. What time she needed to rest was taken from her since she wasn't as safe as she thought presumed.
Saya heaves herself stiffly over the cliffside, limbs trembling as the adrenaline leaves her with her recent collection of injuries. Despite wanting to lay there a little longer, she forces her legs to hold her once more, feeling the blood glue her clothes to her skin uncomfortably.
She didn't even have the time to clean her clothes and tend her wounds. She should've left already, and with that urgency, she took the first step before she was ready, knee buckling from cold and aching muscles reprimandingly.
She doesn't have time for this.
Saya raises her blades of mercy, smells the blood that hasn't yet washed off, and raises it to her lips. Energy rushes like an electric shock at the first taste, and her strength returns like the pain didn't even register. It chased the cold from where it seeped into her bones, lighting an inferno in her body that grew into a hazy tempo in her mind.
Saya controls herself, shaking her head to clear it while cleaning the blade before temptation can win her over and take more blood than she needs.
The next step was steady, and she carefully didn't think about what she was becoming to survive dangerous and hostile places. The feel of her elongated canines was all she needed to remember: she was as much a beast as the rest of them.
If she had to, Saya would kill every last beast that hunted her until this land was as devoid of life as her world because one thing she knew for sure was that she wasn't there anymore. Everything felt wrong, like the Hunter's Dream and the Nightmare realm.
These beasts, while bloodthirsty, did not share the scent of those born from the great one's blood. Yet they were powerful and met supernatural ability with a might Saya had never encountered. The land wasn't dying, the air was fresh and untouched by blood echoes, and there was no mark on the terrain from recent civilization.
This was not a world fighting to be remembered well after it knew it was meeting a violent end.
No, the great one brought her here, and she would find and hunt them all down again. No murderous beasts will stop her; until then, the only thing that could be on her mind is survival.
After all, there was no one left to forgive her if she failed again.