Chapter -93: The Right Hand Clad in Shadow
Obscura, the land of painted ebony skies and surreal décor.
Here the people are ruled only by one law: "Individuality is the truth".
To that extent, everything a person wears from their clothes to their masks express themselves in a wholly unique and liberating fashion.
There is no such thing as repetition, even among the blades of grass and tree branches.
But even among their lot there exists one who, in spite of an identity all to his own, finds himself lacking...
He is their leader, Solomon, chosen by succession over any sort of merit.
He is a rare sight in the eyes of his people, coming only to walk among them and observe in pertinent silence.
His people eye him with caution and only the meagerest of reverence, a far cry from the outright fear and distrust given to his mother before him.
Having crushed the demented darkness known as "D.", he had earned a modicrum of respect.
This too, he found lacking.
Today was a day like any other. He wandered, watched, and waned in his desire to be outside.
His people could craft sublime art from the shadows and dark magic at their disposal, but none touched his ebony-barred heart.
They were abstract, desperate for one to understand the purpose of their existence. And in that way, was his soul no different? Unpainted, an empty canvas through which he sought color...
With a heavy sigh that cracked at the metal barring his face, he surrendered to this aching boredom and pulled himself back to his palace.
Here he had the "company" of the lazing Titan to the right of his throne, and the pathetic parasite trapped in his container on his left.
Try as they might to worm around in their flask they would remain a black spectre with a vile grin, a presence as empty as the whispers through which they've attempted numerous times to sway him.
The Titan pulled his head from his barred arms and muttered in his subtle, amused tone, "Back so soon? This must be a new record."
The words entered through the ears and left just as soon. Solomon placed himself down on the seat of his throne and curled his fingers into the arms.
Tired, bored, he was as lifeless as a statue in a matter of seconds, active only in his thoughts.
"The days waste away like brittle leaves. And I am no closer to figuring out myself than I was the day I first sat upon this throne."
"This throne...sat upon by the hundreds before me, is no more a symbol of this recursive cycle than the crown upon my head."
He had been lethargic from the start of his reign, but the feeling had worsened over the past few months, as though he had lost a motivating factor.
He would see the presence of the one named "Sarajin" flash before his eyes, and try to downplay it as nothing...
"He is an annoying presence, isn't he?" Whispered his mother's voice, her vestige wandering behind the throne with her parasol on full display over her shoulder, "Once he rests in your head he refuses to leave. He condemns people like us to think in ways we'd rather not, a plague more vile than any poison..."
Solomon dug his fingers into the arms of his throne until they cracked, and the vestige vanished like mist, leaving behind a shrill, haunting laugh.
"He is your plague now, my son."
"No." He uttered coldly, bringing the Titan beside him to stir.
"No?" He uttered, almost mockingly so.
Solomon heeded only his own presence as he rose upright, making this declaration here and now inside the sanctity of his thoughts, "I do not require that man to decide who or what I shall be."
He flashed back to Sarajin giving him the whistle to use in case of an emergency, and focused in on the moment when he crushed that whistle to dust, his eyes narrowing deeply in the present, "I do not..."
"What does it mean to rule?" He forced upon his own psyche.
"To rule is to lead. To lead is to be strong. And to be strong...is to be known."
"Many a faceless soul sat upon this throne and let their lives waste away to nothingness as the world banged the gongs of war, spilling blood atop of blood."
"But mother was different, superior and admirable in ways that cannot be described. She saw this world and its people for the monsters they were and did something to enforce change."
"I would readily adhere to her values, enforce my power upon the masses to keep the world from further bloodshed."
"And yet..."
These words did nothing to stir his heart to burn. The emptiness presided over him, deeper than the blackest depths of space.
"I hesitate..." He thought with a tone of uneasiness.
He could not recognize what he was missing...For though he was groomed as his mother's successor, he was lacking in any true disdain for the people. In fact, he did not feel strongly towards any regular people, either positively or negatively.
His mind and his body had not been tempered in hatred. All he ever had was his mother's cold, mechanical affection.
To him, people were numbers, barring a couple exceptions.
Sarajin Stratos earned his ire from the day he first laid eyes upon him, but even then Solomon lacked the self-awareness to quantify this hatred beyond surface level disgust.
But there was another who came the closest to kindling a sense of joy in Solomon's heart.
She graced his lands only once, when the parasitic darkness dared to invade.
She was a divine beauty descended from the skies above. The way her body moved was inhuman, as she scarred the beast's flesh with light taken from the stars up high.
Her body had been tempered through grueling training and no part of her showed flaw. Even her mind was without compare, as she shed the parasite's control without effort.
Truly indomitable power was rare in this world...And she wasn't even a Titan. Rather, to one with eyes clad in darkness, he saw her as a true Goddess, with the power to shake his heart astir.
Alas, he had not thought to hear out her name, only her place of heritage. She was known as an Aurian, from the shielded Tribe of Sancturia.
He craved this beauty, this power. Was this truly what it meant to have desire?
"It eats away like a hunger. But...that sacred land remains out of my reach."
It was a place of great unknowns, even with knowledge that reached as far back as his own. But that it was a place even his mother had dare not aggressed said enough.
And the more he thought about Sancturia in relation to that woman, the more his curiosity grew until it consumed every other thought.
His eyes narrowed with craven ambition as he muttered to himself, "I must know more."
Sarajin, accursed as he felt to consider him, showed to him that it was possible to penetrate the impenetrable Sancturia.
But how would he go about doing the same? Perhaps he could work with a direct approach, and attempt to enter the city by himself.
"No." He told himself like the fool he was.
His mother had cast a shadow of awareness over these lands so great that there was no doubt the Aurians knew what he would be capable of.
And though he boasted confidence in his power, perhaps on a level greater than his mother ever did, he felt somewhat emasculated in the presence of one as great as she...
"One wrong move, and I will aggravate a lion I cannot hope to tame." So what other approach was there?
None that he could perceive, even after weeks of stewing on the question. He had the knowledge, but lacked the experience to make it work for him.
Thus he would continue to let this obsession consume his way of life until one day, fate would deliver an unforeseen gift upon his doorstep.
Deep in his own thoughts, it took Solomon a few seconds to recognize the knock on the door.
He raised his head and so too did the Titan, complete with a long, creaky yawn, "A visitor? Mmm, how curious."
Solomon peered through the thin paper veil and saw a wide shade draped in mystery. It whispered through with a dainty, submissive voice, "My lord, may I come in?"
They had the scent of darkness at their feet and an aroma that could only have been given off by a woman. There was a clear attempt to be seen as presentable, but all Solomon thought was, "Who dares to come here?"
He narrowed his gaze with a bit of scorn and growled internally.
The woman knocked twice more, repeating her words with the same sense of allure and mystery, adding only a dash of desperation when she was met with silence.
Xiark paddled his paws atop each other and muttered, "Hurry and decide, or these knocks will keep me from my nap."
Solomon glared his way for a moment and then faced the doors. With one finger raised, he swung the doors open with a black gale and faced this intruder.
They were a tall and slender woman with unimpressive stature and somewhat pale skin. Their face remained half obscured under a tall, golden crown with four diamond shaped jewels planted in a cross around the base.
Her hair was a vibrant lime green and went all the way down to her feet before curling back. She wore a large purple robe tied to the neck by a silver string, with a dark pink undergarment with a dark yellow rim beneath, low cut to reveal what little of her chest she had.
Her lips were smeared with a red gloss and her long, silky nails were painted pitch black.
In his presence her body was quick to quiver, as she presented her hand in reverence before her chest and took a bow, exposing no hostility.
"Thank you for the invitation, my lord." She said in subdued earnest.
As she tried to take one step forward, Solomon's eyes widened, filling the room with his pressure, "You will not move, nor will you speak, unless I say so."
The woman froze, her grit and alluring demeanor torn asunder against this storm of oppressive authority. She bit her lower lip and quivered, murmuring in respect to his power, "As you wish, my lord."
Solomon addressed her with a thrust of his hand and forceful command of, "Now speak your name."
"My name...?" The woman's lips curled wickedly into a smile, "I am no one of importance."
"Then I have already tired of your presence. Leave me, and never return."
"Wait!" The woman thrust herself into the palace, defiant of the growing pressure that could bring any normal man to their knees.
She stood tall and grit her teeth with a bigger smile and some pitiful display of fealty, "My name matters little...to someone of your greatness, my lord."
She then laid her hand upon her chest and said, "I am known as The Vizier who Laughs. I seek to be nothing more than your humble servant and advisor."
"...Why?" Solomon demanded with a bemused tone.
"How could I not?" The Vizier said, gesturing her hand towards the man, "Like an overwhelming storm you brought that invader to kneel in submission at your side. And yet, you're so content to just lay upon your throne day in and day out, letting all that potential go to waste when you should be bringing all beneath you to kneel just the same!"
"You believe you understand me?" Solomon muttered.
"You are a King of Kings, my lord. And those who cannot recognize you for that are FOOLS, FOOLS I say! Eh hee hee hee hee!"
With her head craned back in laughter, Solomon's glare continued to press down upon her unsightly presence, his stomach churning in disgust.
"The only fool I see is this siren wailing in my throne room," He said coldly, "And your arrogance is beyond compare."
The woman was quick to pull their head down and throw their hands out to say, "My lord, wait! My boldness only comes from a place of sincerity and admiration for you!"
"I do not desire servants, I desire answers," Solomon gestured his hand out and the woman felt as though they were impacted directly in the heart, "And if all you can offer me is a shrill beggar's cry, then you have nothing."
"Now let us not be hasty," The normally restrained "D." came to the forefront of this conversation with his toothy grin, "Her darkness is great. You may very well be denying yourself a crucial asset in-"
Solomon widened his eyes full force and slammed the flask face-first upon the ground with a thought, "I do not recall you being allowed a voice, parasite."
But the words had latched on, and already wormed their way into his head. Solomon stirred with a subdued growl and turned his attention back upon the Vizier as she stood there, unmoving but in full reverence of his power.
"No harm in letting one in close," Whispered the vestige of his mother, grasping his shoulder with her weightless hand, "It could be...amusing watching her flail about."
"Silence." He stated firmly, the vestige disappearing via the clutch of his hand.
"My...lord?" The Vizier muttered in bewilderment.
Solomon narrowed his ice cold gaze towards the woman, "What do you offer, Vizier?"
The Vizier had to stumble around to compose themselves, returning their hand to their chest and then taking a bow as they lavished their presentation with oozing confidence, "I know much in the ways of dark magic. Name a spell and I can cast it without a word. Name a curse and I will fell even a Titan in your name."
"I am a Titan," Solomon boasted, with Xiark casting an unamused glare aside his face, "Perhaps not in name, but in power I am without compare. There is no magic at your disposal that can hope to match me."
"I would never suggest such a thing," The Vizier giggled humbly, "But...there are some walls even you cannot climb. Some...corners, even you cannot peer into."
Solomon laid silent with a slowly encroaching interest in what she had to say.
The Vizier tapped their crown with their fingernails and remarked, "This mask is more than just a symbol of my identity...It is the conduit through which I can peer through the shadows and see the world in ways no human could ever dream of."
"It is a sense of sight that leaves no footprint," The Vizier boasted, "Even someone as attuned to the darkness as yourself wouldn't be aware I was watching over you."
It unnerved but in a good way, as for the first time the king of darkness felt compelled to acknowledge this woman as something above an insect, "Fascinating. No shadow is beyond perversion then, if your claim holds water."
"Wherever there is light shall be shadow. And where there is shadow, there is sight," The Vizier declared, "Name any figure of interest, any part of any Tribe and I shall prove my worth without hesitation, my lord!"
"This could prove to be the answer I need," Solomon began to raise his hand towards her with a calm but powerful authority, "The whims of fate play an interesting game, and so I shall rise to play along."
"Then prove it you shall, Vizier. Use your powers and reveal to me the secrets lying within Sancturia."
"S-Sancturia...?" The Vizier stuttered.
"Is there a problem?" Solomon narrowed his gaze scornfully.
The Vizier clacked their knees together and trembled, "Y-Your ambition is even greater than I could have fathomed, my lord."
She bowed her head deep and whispered, "I can only hope to prove capable of standing in it's shadow."
She then turned and left the palace, entrusted with this herculean task.
Xiark then laid his head to rest and murmured, "What an odd, deluded woman."
"And thus, I shall be mildly impressed if she manages to produce results." Solomon surmised.
The shadows have eyes. It's a common idea conceptualized in tales of fright or mysticism.
But in a world of fantasy and magic, anything can be real and mastered.
Solomon bore witness to a submissive will who sought only to please. But devoid of his presence, his stature, his overwhelming power, her darkness would truly shine.
In her humble, twisted abode nestled in trees, she sat between torches aligned with rows of demonic red light.
Her focus was resolute and untainted by distractions. Her vision slipped into pitch black darkness, where she was more visually aware than the brightest of eyes.
Her eyes sped and slithered across the wastelands, passing many a Rot Walker and stone spire shadows on the way to the sacred lands of Sancturia.
"Reveal to me your secrets, Sancturia. Let my eyes absorb it all!" She declared, her voice echoing within the shadows.
She let out another of her laughs and almost lost sight the moment she was about to pass beneath the barrier.
"How easy. Does this place really hold any threat to my lord's power?"
Her eyes quickly began to burn and she let out a hiss, "Ghhh...! Light...! So bright!"
The city was beyond compare in size and color, truly representing it's namesake as a sanctuary.
It was a momentary daze, but one she took heed of and adapted to in seconds, "Is that all? Pathetic. I will not be dissuaded!"
There were plenty of the little folk to keep her vision on the city at all times. She did not have a very high opinion thus far, however.
"Look at them all. They're so...stale, and fragile. THIS is the Tribe that perplexes many souls? These people are hardly more than insects."
"Whatever..." She muttered under her breath, "There must be more to my lord's interest in these bugs. Perhaps...if I dive further into the city."
Shadows are more than the darkness at one's feet. They are a reflection of the self, and one's power. A stronger shadow will leave a larger imprint in the darkness. It is how that demon came to Obscura months ago, for it was allured by the sheer, crushing gravity of her lord's shadow.
She was tempted to indulge, but knew doing so would make her lose concentration.
Thus she continued to pry into the city's affairs, venturing further into the darkness until she happened upon a build presented with grandiose purpose.
It was hardly lacking in extravagance. Why, it was presenting itself to the world with an air of unearned ARROGANCE.
"How dare these people think so highly of themselves? Pompous fools, this palace is glamour and gluttony in it's finest, a mere shadow compared to the domineering presence of my lord's abode!"
But she dove right in, fearless in her resolve and impassioned by her own cockiness. There, she found less shadows to peer through, as the residents could be counted on both hands.
She weaved her eyes around beneath some unsightly figures.
There was a man in goggles snoring grotesquely upon a hammock.
There was this ugly, blindfolded waif fluttering around with snow in her room.
A violent and repulsively broken girl with red and black hair pounded away at a mass of metal as thick as her skull.
While next door, a fat and lazy shrew engorged himself on sugary delights.
"What in the name of the abyss is this nonsense?" She scowled her gritted teeth, "I was expecting these hidden beings to be a threat. But they're...lazy! Slobbish! Disgusting! They would not be able to fight off a bird, let alone lay a hand on my lord!"
She was about ready to call it quits then and there, "This place is unworthy of his attention. I should focus my efforts on other Tribes."
But the mere thought of confronting his might with only a lacking answer to report made her quiver between her legs with fear and subtle arousal.
"...P-Perhaps, I can pry a little further."
She buckled down and peered deeper into the palace. And that little added patience would soon bear fruit.
She found two figures lurking in the halls. One was a masked figure, much like the denizens of Obscura. His was yellow with a black webbed design, and spare appendages made to look like spider legs.
He was with another man who wore a green cloak and moldy looking leaves on his bottom half. The two had a peculiar air to them that separated them from the rest.
The masked man gestured his hand out and exuded poise and a sickening degree of politeness in his voice, "-and I shall start infiltration soon. We may hardly see each other again for a while."
"Do not lose contact with us." The other man said in a stern, almost emotionless tone.
"Have I ever been that bad at communication?"
"Hmph."
"...Ok, I may have slipped a few times." The masked man rubbed his chin.
The Vizier murmured, "This just seems like idle chatter. Come on! Reveal something of value you miserable insects!"
The masked man brought his hand down as the cloaked man walked away. With a curious hum, the masked man then gestured his hand out and remarked, "One other thing, Glade."
"What?" The man replied impatiently as he turned sideways.
"Borealis has been very quiet lately. It worries me..." The masked man rubbed his chin and muttered in a tone that emphasized every word with importance, "It wouldn't be good for any of our merry group if he were to mobilize his daughter or the halfling against the other Tribes now."
Glade tucked his arms into his sleeves and remarked, "There has been no activity regarding the halfling manifesting any power from the Anti-Genesis Theorem."
"...! Well now, what is this?" The Vizier pooled their full attention into this conversation from the shadows.
"Well that's fantastic!" The masked man announced quietly, "We can't go around having him kill all the Titans before we've gotten our hands on the Wellsprings."
"You brought him here to begin with." Glade said bluntly.
"I did, didn't I?" The masked man chuckled with a playful wave of the hand, "Hasn't it paid in dividends so far? While he wastes his time on his experiments into godslaying, we're slowly getting closer to our goals."
"We must achieve progress soon. Your sister is getting impatient." Glade retorted.
"Only one Wellspring is in our possession after over twenty years," The masked man shook his head and uttered a blunt sigh, "I understand her frustration but greediness will get us nowhere."
"Make your jokes, Atrax. It's not my head that will pay the price for failure."
"Haaa, what is a little decapitation among relatives, no?" The masked man said with a jovial tone, "You just worry about your domain and leave me to my affairs."
Glade upturned his head and muttered, "If only."
The two parted ways, but the Vizier had already retreated from their shadows long before then.
"Interesting...So these Aurians have two secret weapons against the other Tribes? Judging by this pitiful lot, I can't imagine they are much to worry about. But still...I am curious about this...Borealis. They sound like the leader of these bugs. Perhaps I could learn even deeper secrets from watching him..."
She attempted to make their way to find their shadow amidst this palace.
It was surprisingly difficult for how little space remained to be explored. As she came up upon his underside the perspective she was given was angled enough to see that they were a tall and physically imposing looking man with antique gauntlets and a plethora of tomes at his side.
"A fellow magician? No, this is something else. Alchemy?" She guessed, judging by the cauldron.
"Now..." She was approaching directly beneath their shadow, "What secrets do you have to-"
A monstrous well of pressure akin to gravity began to shove her vision deeper and deeper into darkness. Her cockiness turned sour with a grimace, as her skin became pale with fright.
"W-What...is this feeling?!" Try as she might to strain her eyes against this feeling, she continued to plunge further away from his shadow.
"This...this power...!" She grit her teeth and shivered until her whole body felt numb, and her eyes paralyzed into staring straight up at the man's body, now little more than a speck beyond the shadows.
A resounding bang pounded her in the skull and she recoiled into the back of her home, the lights going dim, and the fire fading.
She laid flat there like she had been crucified, unable to keep still her heartbeat even while she gasps and breathes for air.
She was thrown to the ground on her knees with a cold sweat seeping out the bottom of her crown and her body continuing to shiver.
"Impossible..." She gasped, "How...how could anyone be stronger than my lord?!"
After regaining her bearings she hurried back to the palace to report her findings to her lord. She imagined she was speaking concisely, but in truth she was unnerved and the words spilled from her mouth fittingly.
But at the end of it all Solomon was no more impressed or annoyed than he was upon her first arrival here. He silenced her with a gesture of the hand, then contemplated upon her words and actions thus far.
"...Did you spot a woman with aquamarine hair?" He muttered coldly.
"A-A woman? I...I did not know I was supposed to be looking for-"
"Your babbling tells me 'No'. Which means your assessment of that Tribe is unfulfilling and wasted on me."
"W-Wait my lord!" The Vizier said in a haste.
"I have been patient," Solomon's eyes glowed bright, "Now I am tired."
"There was a man with aquamarine hair," The Vizier said, nearly biting her tongue in error, "The leader I spoke of. Borealis. There was a daughter mentioned in relation to him. One of two secret weapons."
"Huh..." Solomon groaned, steadily lowering his hand to his throne, "Then she is currently residing in Sancturia."
"I...could not confirm her presence, but-"
Solomon raised his hand and she was silent. He then brought it down, thinking deeper on the subject.
Xiark rose on her front paws and forced his way into the conversation, "You finally muster some ambition and waste it fawning over that cursed girl."
Solomon veered his gaze from the corner of his eyes and muttered, "Have something to say, feline?"
"Oh. No. By all means. Pursue that girl if that's what your heart desires. But her touch is tainted, and you'll die before first love's kiss."
"I do not fear this...curse," Solomon steadied his gaze forward and uttered, unchained to any sight but his own, "The girl has something I covet. And I will make her mine."
"...An early grave it is then." Xiark said in a smarmy tone before laying back down, ignoring Solomon's irritated groan.
He then dug his fingers into the wood and narrowed his eyes, "This...Borealis, seeks to slay the Titans."
He brought his hand before his chest and then squeezed his fist, exuding dark energies around it, "Our confrontation is inevitable. But now, it appears I've been granted a fortuitous opportunity to control the field of battle."
"I desire only to get close to his daughter again. What he wishes upon the rest of the Tribes matters little to me."
His mother's vestige floated in the air behind him, whispering faintly in his ear, "You know what you want to do. Now say it."
No more clinging to hesitation at the breadth of his tongue. For the first time since he took a seat upon this throne, he would make a decision.
And may the world come to fear it's consequences...
"I shall seek an alliance with Sancturia," He gestured his hand forward, "That is my will made manifest."
The Vizier had a shaky grin as she wondered, "O-Of course, my lord. But how?"
"Can you not deliver messages through the shadows, Vizier?"
"That is a power only one of your strengths could accomplish." She said humbly.
"That will not do," Solomon remarked, "I would be falling into the enemy's hand."
"I could easily worm my way into the city," "D." spoke up, rolling his flask over to point his grin up at him, "All you have to do is provide me with a vessel."
"..." Solomon raised his eyes with a concerning length of silence, "Even a weakened worm could escape into the dirt. You shall never know freedom, parasite."
"Then your ambition dies on the throne," "D." chuckled, "How pathetic. And WEAK."
The Vizier brushed her right arm up in an arc and a bolt of violet lightning smited the flask and made the demon sizzle in pain.
"Gh gh gh!"
"Ignorant creature..." The Vizier grumbled.
After a few moments of silence, a faint but friendly chuckle filled the room, "It appears you could use some more assistance, Lord Solomon."
Emerging from a shadow born all of its own was a man with a golden, webbed over mask and four extra appendages like spider legs crossed over his robed body.
He presented himself with a humble bow of the head and relaxed demeanor, even in the presence of such overwhelming power.
The Vizier winced as the man introduced himself, "I am Atrax. I have many uses to provide. But today, I shall be your messenger."
Next Time: The Lords of Power