"—!"
In an old, dilapidated church, a cat stirs from its slumber.
"Oh dear, oh dear. Seems it has come to that now."
It stretches, meowing as it yawns before trotting about the courtyard.
"Hmmmph. I would have liked to laze around just a bit longer. Oh, well."
Crossing the courtyard, it precariously climbed up onto the surrounding stone fence. It turned, giving one last look at the church.
Such a shame it would have to leave this place. Such a shame it wouldn't be long before it would be razed to nothing. Poor children. Poor lost souls.
"Hrm. Shame I can't have coffee, unlike the other me-selves."
With a sigh, it leaped off the fence and into the nearby alleyways.
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.
.
The streets were quiet. Too quiet at that. It was midday. The streets should have been bustling with all sorts of noise. Children running up and down the streets, playing games like hero versus monster, or reenacting a fairytale of some sort. Adventurers brushing past busied crowds, parting through the sea of citizens with their swagger and prestige, mustering stoic, steeled faces whilst clad in armor and weapons. Entrepreneur's hollering at the top of their lungs, claiming they have the best gear and trinkets and baubles for the dungeon. Or quaint, quiet merchants selling the freshest of produce, a result of a bountiful harvest.
But instead, an eerie silence hung over the slums as the cat tiptoed through the narrow alleys. No one, not a single peep from anyone or anything.
Hmm, no matter. This changed little. It did, however, make the cat's activities stick out a bit more than it would have liked. Sure, it didn't mind indulging and fancying itself in showers of praise and adoration and attention, but having the silence's attention solely on itself made it feel weary at best.
All was quiet, not a soul in sight. But the feline felt it. Eyes staring as it wandered about.
Weaving in and out of the alleys, the cat seemed to be lost. The directions it took were random and impulsive at best. But being the prideful creature that it was, it pressed on, not bothering to backtrack or stop and inquire for directions. (While it could very well speak, it imagined that conversation would be far too much of a hassle. Not to mention there wasn't even anyone around to question).
However, it wasn't lost at all. It knew exactly where it was going. It was just that tracking the underground passageways while on the surface was admittedly awkward.
A left here, a right there, a left down till the end, and another riiii—aha! Found it. The cat stopped as it reached a dead end. Tilting its head, it precariously scanned the wall.
Scratches on the lower left corner, most likely from a blade of some sort. Other scratches on the right-hand corner. They were lighter and fainter than the ones on the opposing side. They were most likely done by hand, or nails, rather.
One, two, three chips and seven, eight, nine cracks.
No doubt about it. This was it.
It pressed its paw against the wall. The wall began to react to its touch. Outlines began to carve themselves out and light up an archaic, cyan magic. The lines formed the shape of a rectangle. The cat could hear the sounds of stones grinding against one another as the rectangular cut-out began to rise. It expelled a puff of dust as it lifted off the ground.
"Open sesame."
The cat casually strolled into the newly formed entrance, not bothering to look behind itself to help soothe its paranoia. It didn't have the luxury of time to be so precocious. The passageway swiftly sealed itself as the cat entered its gaping maw. For a few seconds, it was shrouded in darkness. Then, suddenly, bursts of light began to fill the passage. The feline looked up to see torches precariously perched on the walls beginning to light up.
My, how convenient.
With its way set alight, the cat proceeded with its journey.
.
.
.
"Huh?"
Fels raised a metaphorical brow as he sensed one of the underground entrances open. Odd. Who could have possibly opened it? Very few knew of the passage's existence, most notably, the gods. But if it were one of them, he would imagine that Ouranos would have notified him. That, and he would be able to feel their divine presence. But he couldn't feel anything.
He began to make his way down the hall as he continued to ponder on it. Who… what…? Then, he remembered the words that the supposed man named Abel said.
"The other me."
Ah, yes. The Mythic. That would make the most sense.
At the time, Fels was confused by the Mythic's words but chose not to question them. Instead, he dutifully bowed and pledged to heed his wishes. It would seem it was now the time to fulfill his obligations.
Walking down one of the many corridors of the vast network of interconnected tunnels, Fels peered into the illuminated darkness and spotted a silhouette of a figure at the end. It was sitting there, patiently, as if waiting for his arrival. Presuming that it was his contractor, Fels made his way to it. Immediately, he made note of how small the creature was. It wasn't human, that was for certain. As he approached, Fels began to notice more of the figure's feline features.
The fur, the tail, the whiskers.
He stopped a few feet away and subconsciously tilted his head to the side. There, waiting at the end of the corridor, was a seemingly stray cat.
The two stared at each other for a few seconds before the cat smirked.
"Meow~"
Its voice was smooth like butter. It almost sounded seductive in nature.
For a moment, Fels is completely rendered speechless. The cat spoke in a voice that was far too deep to be in the vocal range of a feline. It sounded… human.
"I believe your services are at my disposal, sage."
And now it was speaking full-blown sentences.
Fels quickly composed himself as he courteously bowed to the cat. Admittedly, the sight wasn't the most uncanny or preternatural thing he's seen before.
"Yes, you indeed do, Mythic."
The cat licked its paw before brushing past Fels.
"Hmm," it hummed approvingly. "Well, like the me-self before, I will need access to your plethora of magical items. You have a toy boat amongst your collection, do you not?"
Fels pondered the question for a bit before nodding in affirmation.
He frowned. Yet another item he had yet to ascertain its mechanisms and inner workings. He had spent even less time on it than the crystal ball before giving up and tossing it into the scrap heap he had tucked away. How many times has he been scammed with such trinkets? Sure, they worked (only because the Mythic was kind enough to tell him they did earlier when they were sifting through them). But the amount of time and energy he spent trying to get them to work made him feel more than cheated.
"Yes, I do. It is at the workshop not too far from here."
"Very good."
The cat brushed past him before abruptly stopping.
"Just one quick request before we go."
Fels looked at it curiously.
"May we go see the lord in his chambers?"
.
.
.
As they walked, Fels looked down at his feline confidant.
"Why is it you wish to see Lord Ouranos, if you don't mind me asking."
The cat gave a slight shrug.
"Oh. I just want to quickly confirm something is all."
Fels didn't like how vague the answer was, but he thought it best not to dwell on it too much. In all likelihood, that was probably the most he would get from the Mythic.
The two continued to traverse the winding and twisting corridors in silence. Fels expected that he would be the one to lead the pair, but the cat seemed to navigate the tunnels well enough on its own.
As he glanced at the feline, another question came to his mind. Before he opened his mouth, it spoke.
"Cheshire."
…huh?
Fels stopped in his tracks as he stared at the cat. Cheshire continued to press on, keeping his face forward to hide his smug grin.
"My name," he stated factually.
Fels had felt the air in his throat be momentarily stolen from him.
"Would it not be more fitting to call you Madness of the Mythics?" he hesitated.
Cheshire shrugged.
"Yes, but like the other me-self you met earlier, I have a 'real' name and I rather like it."
Fels furrowed his face underneath the shadow cast by his hood. He pondered on the Mythic's statement, only for his mind to be met with more and more confusion. Sensing the sage's stupefaction, Cheshire continued.
"Abel and I are but different aspects of the same abstraction, unique but part of a collective identity."
Hmph. Such a troublesome thing. And here all he wanted was to be his own special little snowflake.
"We simply chose names out of necessity, to better distinguish and suit me-selves' needs."
Abel was the human (for lack of a better description). Cheshire was the cat. But they were ultimately the same.
"It is no different than how gods from distinct pantheons may symbolize, depict, and typify the same concept."
It made sense. The Greek and Roman gods were prime examples. Zeus and Jupiter. Poseidon and Neptune. Hades and Pluto. And so on.
And yet, one question remained. One that lingered in Fels' mind, ever since Ouranos spoke of their kind.
"So, what makes you different from a god?"
"Comfortable, are we?"
The cat was jesting, of course. The sage would naturally be curious about the Mythic's nature. His affable and rather lax demeanor was merely a byproduct of his earlier conversation with Abel on such intriguing and profound topics.
"You wish for another secret then?"
"Payment," Fels said with a sly smile (not that it could be seen per se).
Cheshire tittered at that. He picks up fast. Is it any wonder he is the quintessential escort? Very well. He supposed he of all people could handle the truth.
"Gods die."
The words were plain and candid. There was no hint of emotion behind them. It was a fact, and facts can be quite callous and cruel.
Fels stopped dead in his tracks as he stared at the feline, his mouth hanging slightly ajar. Cheshire turned, slowing his pace as he stared back at the sage.
"They die when they are forgotten—when there is no one left to believe in them any longer."
How many gods have died, even before the time they descended Tenkai? Cheshire dare not say. Such a tragic thing, to be unloved and forgotten by your children.
Cheshire turned his gaze forward once again.
"But Madness shall always remain."
There was the ever-so-slight hint of sadness for the briefest of moments. Only he had heard it. Quickly, he stifled his unintended reaction.
"Even if I, Cheshire, should die, I am but one of an untold number of aspects and facets."
So many selves were gathered on that deadened star. A finite, infinite amount stretching far beyond the horizon.
"I do not exist because mortals believe that I do. I exist because the universe needs me to. I exist in their hearts, their minds, their very souls and existences because my duty necessitates that I do. We Mythics are motifs, repeating patterns, trends, wavelengths, and acumens. As for myself, I am the physical manifestation of lunacy and mania."
Fels felt as though the cat had more to say, but held his tongue. Never mind. Fels understood the feline's point.
"We do what we do because of what we are. We do not do it out of entertainment or belief. Simply put, if we did anything else, we would not be ourselves. That is the truth of the matter."
Cheshire stopped at the end of the corridor, turning back to see Fels had not moved. Perching himself on his hind legs, Cheshire sat and began to lick his paw.
"That, dear Sage," he grinned. "Is the difference between a god and a Mythic."
Fels could only reply with a blank stare. He had more questions that lingered on the tip of his tongue, but his brain was far too exhausted to ask.
Gods die. Mythics can't. Mythics exist because they are necessary and essential. Gods aren't. Yes, simplifying it seemed to be the most appropriate way to digest the cat's words.
Hearing Cheshire clicks his tongue, Fels shook his head, bringing himself back to reality.
"That ought to suffice for payment. Come along now. Can't have you lagging behind. Not when we've only just begun our long and arduous journey."
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.
.
After a short while, the pair finally reached the doorway leading directly to Ouranos' chambers. Fels placed his hand on the stone door, causing it to creak and shutter before parting. Fels did a slight bow as he ushered himself through. Cheshire simply strolled past without batting an eye.
"Lord Ouran—"
Fels looked up to the throne, only to see his god gone. Fels could feel his eyes slowly widen as his heart sank to his stomach.
"Where—?" he uttered. "Where is he?!"
His eyes began darting around the room, looking for any trace of the elderly god. The cat behind him said nothing, musing to himself before swiftly turning to leave.
"Hmm. Seems we are pressed for time more than I thought."
Fels spun around to see the cat casually taking his leave.
"Mythic! Where is he? Where is he?!" Fels cried out, his tone desperate, his words accusing and confused.
Cheshire sighed.
"He has ceased," Cheshire said in a hushed, somber voice.
"But… but there was no pillar of light!"
Cheshire shook his head.
"You misunderstand. He hasn't been killed and sent back to Tenkai."
"Not that there will be anything left to return to regardless."
Ouranos wasn't alive. Nor was he dead. And that was all.
"His existence has been erased."
"That's—"
Without realizing it, Fels opened his mouth but immediately, his instincts warned him to keep it shut. But it was too late. The cat turned, shooting the sage a look that sent shivers down his spine. It was a look of pure authority, that demanded nothing but his absolute obedience.
"Fels."
He recognized this tone, this voice. The way it became reverberated and sonorous. This was a Mythic speaking. This was Madness.
"Ouranos simply isn't. Nothing more and nothing less. There is no point in further discussing this matter."
Fels felt his jaw tighten as the cat turned away from him. Any words he might have said to argue and quarrel with the feline had all but wilted away, smothered on his tongue. Despite looking at the back of his head, Fels could still feel the Mythic's gaze piercing his body and peering into his soul. Cheshire let out a quiet exhale.
"There is no need for us to stay here lest we desire to waste precious time."
His voice was softer than before and the reverb was gone. The words he had spoken were cold and harsh, perhaps. But that didn't matter. Not now. The task at hand demanded their full attention. They couldn't afford to be distracted.
"Right now, I need your undivided attention and focus. We may very well be the only things left that can stop our impending doom."
"What... what do you mean?"
Cheshire scowled.
"The other me-self has failed. The star has escaped," he hissed, his voice full of ire.
So sweet was his pride. So bitter it was to admit and avow failure.
"Its cancer-like madness is spreading far quicker."
Nothing could stop it now. Trying to track it would be nigh impossible. It was everywhere and yet nowhere all at once. Even if found, the star's influence was far too vast and far too great to be stifled. The one chance they had to smother it had been squandered.
"As for me-self, he has been confined in an event horizon. And so, I need you."
Fels lowered his gaze and straightened himself. And envoy, a proxy—that was his purpose, his duty. His onus as the Mythic's aide was all that mattered.
"Everyone and everything else is beginning to go mad. If you do not believe you can fully commit yourself in obedience and servitude to me, then stay here and wallow at your imminent ruination. But if you wish to save your god, your city, your world, the very universe you exist in, then help me get that boat and stop wasting my time."
Fels gave a single, firm nod, his eyes alight with a newfound conviction and determination.
.
.
.
Cling. Clang. Crash. Smash.
The Sage carelessly chucked away anything that did not resemble a boat, a toy, or was made from wood. Though, it didn't seem to help narrow down the search. A lot of the items he had sifted through fit two of the three criteria he was looking for, that being 'toy' and 'wood'. But he had yet to come across any item that even faintly resembled a boat. He internally sighed. Such was the price he paid for being a hoarder, he supposed.
"Where is it, where is it...?" he mumbled to himself as he cast aside another box of useless trinkets.
Cheshire simply stared patiently. While he could try to offer aid, he figured his feline figure would make him only a hindrance to the sage. Besides, he had other things preoccupying his mind.
How much time did they have? Enough. Hmm, that answer is rather shallow, no? But it will suffice. Yes, it shall. What of me-self confined in the black hole? Trivial. Agreed. What of the one in the depths of the dungeon, he who bore our burden so long ago? He... what he does is not our concern. Is that all you have to say on the matter? Yes. Hmph, very well. And the sage? What of him? Yes, indeed, what of him.
"No, no, nope, not that, where… aha!"
Cheshire quickly snapped himself from his mind and looked to see the sage proudly holding up a toy boat amidst a small mound of tossed and trampled trinkets.
He mewed happily as he gingerly scampered over the assortment of forsaken curios, careful not to incidentally trigger any potential mishaps. Fels outstretched his hand and proudly presented the toy to the feline. Cheshire narrowed his slit eyes on the miniature.
Bits of dust on it, but nothing that a quick blow of breath couldn't remove. A few faint scratches here and there but not severe enough to impact its overall integrity Maplewood, the most commonly used wood for children's toys. Sturdy, reliable. It wasn't oakwood, but who would really be picky about that? He would. Right, well, that was the plan, was it not?
"Very good, sage. Now then."
Cheshire opened his mouth and abruptly began violently hacking. Fels could only stare, his eyebrows raised and his mouth slowly becoming more ajar by the second.
"Augh! Auuughhhhh! Aughhhhhhhh—!" Cheshire's face twisted and comforted in pain as he continued to forcibly gag.
A bit more. He can feel it. Welling up from the back of his throat. Just a bit more—
"AUGHHHHHH! Ahh, ahuhhh, owie…"
Cheshire groaned as he looked down to see the fist-sized hairball he heaved out of his throat. That… hurt a lot more than usual. Ow.
He looked up at Fels, one of his eyes still half-lidded from the reeling pain.
"Oh, don't give me that look. I haven't shown anything that me-self hasn't before, have I?"
Fels could only awkwardly half-laugh.
Just like the black ink that Fels had seen Abel hack up before, the hairball began to react. It almost looked like it was wriggling.
Fels winced slightly as he slightly averted his gaze. There was something so inexplicably unnatural, so unsettling about it. The way it thrashed and throbbed on the ground. It reminded him of a fish out of water, only the fish, so to speak, had been gouged and gored and was squirming around, begging for death. And the color. A sickening pure black. The longer he stared at it, the more twisted his stomach became. How strange. He didn't react this way when Abel did something similar.
Cheshire eyed the sage. Though he did not voice his uncomfortability, his body language more than spoke for itself.
"My apologies."
He approached the hairball and gently prodded it.
"The other me-self's magic is far less… potent."
Cheshire slightly frowned at that. It was by his choice, his design. Still, if he had his way, he wouldn't have to cripple himself in such a manner. Ah, rules.
The hairball began to unfurl itself and spread out on the floor, forming a pseudo rug. Cheshire stepped on it, seemingly having no mind that he had hacked it up from his bowels.
"Now, now. No need to be so wary."
The cat's words didn't exactly give Fels any comfort. But seeing how he had little to no choice, Fels stepped onto the rug with him. It began quivering and shuddering underneath his feet.
"Do care though. My magic tends to be rather shy, shall we say."
An ironic statement from such a proud and unreserved creature.
Fels was too focused on his feet to notice that the rug's edges had gradually begun to rise, forming a sort of enclosure around the pair. He only noticed when he felt something graze the tip of his hood.
"One thing before we go. Try your best to hold onto your stomach contents."
Hold onto his… what?
Before he could fully process Cheshire's words, the enclosure finished forming, swallowing them whole. For a few moments, there was only the cold, the whispers, the darkness. Fels feels like he's floating and yet falling. He looks at his hands. One is clutching onto the boat, albeit barely. He flexes his free hand, only to feel an unnatural strain pulling on it. He looks to see strange shadowy tendrils pulling against every inch of his arm. They snake up his arm, coiling around it before suddenly yanking his body further into the void. A flash of lightning illuminates the pitch black. For a split second, Fels can see what it is that is pulling him.
It was a daunting figure. It looked vaguely human. It wore a thick brown cloak with a hood covering its face. But it did little to hide its gaping scarlet eye, unblinking and shivering with ecstasy. It extended out its hand, a tentacle appendage, Aegean and Eldich. The whispers in Fels' mind grew more clear. They whispered such sweet temptations. They tell of tantalizing truths, disorientating discourse, harrowing heresies. They beckon to him all the same.
You are not alone in the universe. There are other beings just like you somewhere out there, amongst the stars. Gods aren't real. They are just imagined to be. Death is a concept we made up, so you will never be afraid of the unknown future.
On and on they went as Fels was pulled further and further into the abyss. Then, just as suddenly as he was swallowed into the void, he was spat back out, his body manifesting and bursting forth back into reality. Immediately, Fels collapsed onto his knees and hurled out whatever was in his bowels into the… water?
Coughing up the last bits of bile, he looked around to see that they were surrounded by water. It was as though they were stranded out in the middle of an ocean. For miles and miles, nothing but water. Fels looked off in the distance and could barely make out the vague shape of what appeared to be sky-scraping mountains. Wait, no. He squinted, focusing his vision. The mountains—they were shimmering and trembling ever so slightly. His eyes widened as the only logical explanation became more clear.
They were waves. Sprawling, towering tidal waves.
"Well, you at least tried to hold onto your stomach contents longer than most."
Cheshire smirked watching Fels. Always so assuming to see how long it'd take for them to hurl. Stretching his neck out a bit, Cheshire shrugged off the whole experience, treating it no different than a casual walk in the park. Seeing the sage stare off into the distance, he turned to see what it was that left him looking so aghast and appalled.
"Oh, not to worry. We shall be long gone before they reach us."
It was best to hurry along. The shorter they stayed, the better. Less likely they would awkwardly run into him. 'Better to ask for forgiveness than permission', as he would always say.
Cheshire made his way to the edge of the now makeshift raft.
"Still have that boat with you?"
"Ye—yes…"
Despite everything, Fels had somehow miraculously clung onto the boat.
"Good. Shield it for me, would you?"
Cheshire dipped his paw into the water. Fels felt the water begin to stir. Ripples began forming in the water before gradually becoming small waves. The depths below began booming and quaking, causing the raft to shake back and forth. Fels tucked the boat in his loose sleeve to shield it from the splashing waves that found their way up and onto the raft.
"Here it comes~" Cheshire cheerfully chirped.
Suddenly, a massive ship burst up from the murky abyss. Fels instinctively turned his back to it as the taste and scent of salt flooded his senses. The ship came crashing down onto the water's surface. Pellets of water splattered against his backside leaving him soaked and cold. But at least the toy boat was untouched.
Feeling the water had become more calm and still, Fels turned to see the ship in all its majestic beauty. Fels didn't know if he was looking at a ship or a wall from his perspective. Saying that it was ginormous wouldn't be doing it justice. Fels couldn't even see the bow or the stern, no matter how hard he leaned to the left or right.
Upon looking at it closer, it wasn't a ship. A ship implied there were sails, a rudder, masts, and shrouds on the deck. No, it was an ark.
Cheshire took his paw out of the water. He made a disgusted frown as he shook his paw, trying his best to make it dry. Somehow, it was the only part of his body that happened to become wet. He looked up at the ship and smiled mischievously.
He would be putting it to good use, using it for what it was meant for. Yes, that ought to be a good excuse.
"Fels. Place the boat into the water, opposite to this one."
Taking the toy out from his sleeve, he took a moment to inspect its state. Bone dry, thankfully. Satisfied, he leaned over the raft and gently placed the toy on the water. It wobbled a bit before settling on the water's surface.
"Give it a little push away from us now, would you?"
Fels lowered his hand into the water and—
"—!"
Shakily, Fels brought his hand up to see that his hand was becoming pellucid. He could make out the vague shape of the waves in the distance through his palm. Sensing something was wrong, Cheshire turned to see the sage. He lowered his gaze, immediately realizing what was happening. If he were a holy man, if he were a righteous man, he would have whispered a prayer (not that he was holy or righteous or a man). Instead, he somberly sighed.
"Oh dear. It is as I feared. It seems that I cannot take you with me on this upcoming voyage."
It was always the thinkers, the more enlightened ones, that were taken quietly. They lacked the capacity to fully divulge into unquestionable carnage and chaos.
Fels turned back to the cat and opened his mouth. But no words came for he no longer had vocal cords in his throat. He tried focusing all his energy on keeping himself whole. While it may have slowed the process, he could still see and feel himself disappearing. His eyes filled with fear as he wrestled to come to terms with his end. After all this time, after all that he's done to avoid it, this was how he went?
"Do not fret, dear sage. Rest, knowing that you have done well and that I shall not forget this deed. Because of you, countless lives may now be saved. My thanks."
Cheshire graciously bowed and he smiled earnestly. Fels could feel himself growing tired and sleepy. How strange. Does everyone—did everyone feel this way…?
"Now go, do not fight it any longer."
With that, the sage named Fels vanished into nothingness, joining his god and many others in that place.
Cheshire turned to look back at the ark. Time to set sail. But before boarding the craft, a thought crosses his mind.
"Would be rude to just take it and leave. Hmm. Perhaps I'll leave a note."
.
.
.
He walks across the water, taking in the salted breeze with a smile. The water gently brushes against the soles of his feet as he treads the surface. In one hand, he holds a mallet. It is an old tool. There are smudge marks running along the handle and the head has a few imprints on it. But it was far too nostalgic of an item for him to toss away.
He is looking down, his head seemingly in the clouds. Something was pecking at him, bugging him. It was as if a voice in his mind was saying that something was wrong. But what that something possibly could be.
Eh, he would chalk it up to his imagination. But the voice kept pestering him, demanding not to be ignored. He was so engrossed in his own thoughts, he almost bumped face-first into his ship.
He stops and looks up. He raises a brow and strokes his gray beard. Odd. He didn't recall bringing it up to the surface.
Wait…. wait a second. Wait just a damn second!
He gently brushes his fingers across the hull. This wasn't oak. His eyes begin darting around, furiously scrutinizing the boat. Those scratches weren't there before. He didn't place a plank of wood there. He circles around the boat to further confirm his suspicions.
To his surprise, he finds a note stuck on the side. He reads it and grimaces. He struggles to keep the bulge of a vein from growing on his head. He takes a deep breath and sighs.
"...you've got to be kidding me."