aka five years before chapter three
Warning: self-hatred, genocide.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Camila's eyes shot open, her body jerking upright in bed as a cry clawed its way up her vocal cords only to be halted mid-breath as her hand clamped ruthlessly over her quivering lips with enough force to send a tremor of agony that radiated through her lower jaw. Her breathing, once an erratic rhythm, now came in shallow pants, as her heart almost tried to rip its way out of her ribcage.
Another nightmare, another relentless nocturnal torment that had become an all too familiar visitor brought forth by the darkest pits of her psyche and given shape and means to torture her by her own mind. In a way, she shouldn't have been surprised since they had been plaguing her ever since that night, but still, that thought didn't make her feel any better.
Most nights, they would cast her into a sinister dance of terror, a symphony of anxiety orchestrated by the shadows yet unseen, unable to perceive what was happening. And those, despite their frequent appearance, didn't affect her all that much, after all, it wasn't like she was having nasty dreams for the first time.
No, what she hated the most were the nightmares that took her treasured memories, her most beloved moments of her life, and contorted them into macabre shows that hung heavy with the acrid scent of regrets and resentment. Those dreams insidiously wove their way through the tapestries of her past, warping the soft and gentle memories that reminded her of times when things weren't so complicated, lulling her into a false sense of security, only to twist them into morbid spectacles of blood and gore that jolted her awake.
Focusing her blurry gaze on the alarm at the side of her bed, it dawned on her she had two more hours before she needed to get out of bed. Usually, this would be her sign to go back to sleep, but her blanket felt too cold, her pillow too stiff, and the sweat clinging to her body too suffocating.
and the nightmares far too real
Forgoing her slipper, she walked barefoot toward her bathroom, and following a short shower, emerged from the confines of her room and made her way toward Luz. Walking past her family photos and ignoring the remorseful whispers of a bygone era, she gently opens the door, peering into the vibrant and colorful room of her daughter.
Reverberating throughout the entire room like a soothing mantra was the calming tune emitted by the MP3, the song dispersing the patches of silence that clung to the room.
Collapsed like an untangled mess and curled in between fluffy blankets stood Luz's silhouette, the limited edition Azura plushies tucked between her arms. A gentle smile bloomed on Camila's face as Luz continued snoring peacefully, looking like for once in a long time she was unburdened by nightmares.
Her girl had gone through so much for the past weeks, even excluding the dreaded night that changed their family's life, that not even an adult, let alone a kid, should bear, and yet still manage to retain a semblance of innocence and kindness that could light up the entire room.
It was a heaven-given gift to raise such a beautiful and brave child, such a shame said a child couldn't have a parent with the same qualities.
Exiting the room, Camila made her way downstairs and entered her barely-lit kitchen, throwing herself into the repetitive task of preparing her and Luz breakfast and lunch.
The first time she had cradled Luz in her arm, staring at her small wrinkled face and looking into her v̷e̷r̷d̷a̷n̷t̷ hazel eyes, she knew that Luz was perfect, and such, it was only fair that she lived a perfect life. That was impossible, yet under the shimmering and pale glint of the stars scattered aimlessly around the kind moon, nothing more than minuscule platinum orbs that illuminated her little town, she promised her daughter that no matter what stood before them, she would make sure that Luz will never suffer.
"For you, my dear, I will bring down all the stars in the sky."
And every day, she lived by her promise.
Even when they laughed or cried together, fought or made peace, Camila vowed to ensure she would always be by Luz's side when the dust settled.
And the past weeks had shown that she was incapable of holding a simple promise.
It was a disgusting, abhorrent betrayal against her promise toward Luz, and she had no.
Clenching her finger until her knuckles turned to a ghostly white, she finished packing the food and went into her room to prepare her work uniform even though the clock on the wall suggested that she still had an abundance of time before she had to depart to work.
Her daughter, her baby girl, was going through something no one should have to go through, and what did Camila do more precisely? She avoided her, like the coward her mother had raised. She should have been by her side during these catastrophic last weeks, to be the shoulder Luz could cry on, and Camila, despite her promise, was not there.
And for what reason could she even dare to do such a thing?
Nothing more than the fear that clawed at her back.
There was no excuse for her behavior. She was an adult after all, so she should get over her cowardly demeanor— and yet, even when she tried to reach through the gap that was forming between them, she would always feel those ravenous orbs gazing from between indeterminate sheets of shadows, locked away between mimicking space and higher dimensions, and her mind would be forced back in the barely lit room of her daughter, staring into a creature whose claws split the earth and heaven, teeth that imposed their immoral logic upon decomposing civilization and pinpoint eye that erodes the barriers between her body and her soul which were nothing more than a mockingbird, whose wings were clipped, and endured the pain for her daughter.
But even if she wanted to be something more for her daughter, her body was human to its core, and she would quickly give in to her fear, promising that next time would be different.
Yet that next time never came, proven by the fact that instead of waiting for her daughter to arouse from her slumber, she was already making her way toward the door, lying pitifully to herself that she wanted to walk to work to slightly improve her health and nothing more.
The air was mild and pleasant, with slight traces of icy undertones announcing autumn's final days. Camila hated it with every bit of her soul.
She did not deserve the comforting breeze that washed across her body, wanting nothing more than to trade it for the merciless wind that followed winter's pale cloak zealously or even the cascading fury of the scorching rays that permeated the land once summer took hold.
Standing above her was none other than the brave but judgemental sun, humbled by the incoming winter, remaining nothing more than an echo of its future glory.
Leaves scattered aimlessly as her boot skimmed the wet floor, disarraying the nature-made leaf rainbows modeled on the ground and sending flickers of flushed crimson, azure blue, and lustrous gold into the humid air. The once mighty trees that proudly wore their verdant crown now stood with their branches lowered to the ground, swinging unwillingly under the shy breeze, their crown stripped away by the cold hands of fate and leaving only a husk of a tree.
Camila quickened her steps, and in no time, she had arrived at her workplace, the tall but dilapidated building rising from the ground and looming over her head like an ancient giant.
With an engrained ease, she pushed the rusted door wide open, forcing the old door hinges to scrape against one another and letting the sunlight illuminate the corridor before her in a dim glow.
Stepping over the threshold, she moved past the door at a moderate pace, not interested in starting her job faster, considering she had another hour before her shift began.
Her eyes were glued to her phone even when she entered her workplace, already knowing the layout of the building from muscle memory. Lingering in the normally damned air of the veterinary clinic was the delectable smell of newly-brewed coffee with minor tinges of sweet pastry.
Hanging loosely on her ear were her old earbuds brought as a present by Luz, and from the worn-out speaker emanated the latest news regarding the world around. Each time the information presented by the radio station that rang in her headphones began to bore her, she changed the station with a single click.
Salma Hayek and Shakira, like other celebrity parents, raise their kids to speak multiple langu- Click White House eyes accountability for Silicon Val- Click A quarter of an ounce of this Egyptian Magic All Purpose Skin Cream will in no time he- Click Do you see the hungry eyes? The Moon had been mutated
An annoyed grumble reverberated in her throat at the inability of radio stations to produce note-worthy and essential news instead of the same bullshit that the masses gable it up, but at least she will improve her mood with the always-helpful assistance of one-dollar store coffee. Shifting her eyes from her slightly cracked phone right after depositing her earphones mindlessly in her purse, she almost turned left, but her body froze as if stuck by lighting.
Hanging from embedded nails were different photos and pictures she didn't recognize. Standing where the door of the faculty room should have been was a wall that could be found in almost every rural house, with bricks stacked together to form a shielding but weak border.
Camilla whipped her head around so fast to scan her surroundings with enough velocity she could feel the whiplash tugging at her neck muscles.
Replacing the sickly green walls of the veterinary clinic were brick walls from which decoration hung from every inch surrounding her. Instead of the worn down building her veterinary clinic was and always had been, she found herself in a small but pleasant café. The entire room was composed of shelf after shelf of different herbs, beans, and condiments, with a few bare tables and chairs arranged in an ordinary manner.
"Welcome to the one and only café across time, or C.A.T for short. It is so nice to finally meet you, ." To the other side of the long room, behind a sturdy but ancient counter, stood a woman with long, curly hair that cascaded across her shoulder and down her back. Even though there were few feet between them, Camila could see clearly as the day the small but odd smile stretched across the woman's face.
It wasn't bizarre because it was creepy or insidious, quite the opposite, somehow managing to warm the deepest part of her soul. Like key memories were rescued from the abyss of her consciousness by an unseen hand, her mind immediately attributed her kind demeanor to that of her grandfather, husband, and daughter.
It was mind-boggling how quickly any defense or even the guilt that was feasting on her mind dissipated into nothing more than a sense of perpetual serenity. For a second, she thought that somehow she was being manipulated into letting her guard down after being transported to an unknown place, but for the life in her, she couldn't find a trace of malice behind those amethyst eyes.
The panic button was disconnected, and the red flags that should have popped up were burned in azure light.
Before her mind could catch up with her body, Camila had already wandered over to the counter and sat on the tall wooden chair beside the bar.
Only for her eyes to widen for a second time.
You see, the first time her gaze fell upon the enigmatic figure of the pale woman, she had been too preoccupied with her thoughts to realize something or, more specifically, some parts of the woman's body were missing. It was like a talentless painter had brushed alongside the right side of her body, erasing her right hand and leaving a translucent scar across her face that mirrored the indentation of the dent in her skull that looked like somebody had blown a chunk of her head.
Martha leaned around a corner. She looked like she was made of stained glass with minute seams between its movable panels. Her hair was voluminous and blond, and although one of her eyes was like a mesmerizing gemstone casting violet hues the other one was a transparent and fragmented shard that floated aimlessly in the eye socket, staring for more than a moment at it showcasing an almost unseen glimpse of a shrieking abyss in clear absence of color, light and kindness.
"Who ar- how are you alive?"
Her question brought a wave of embarrassment at her insensitive inquiry, and if a steak of red bloomed across her face, only she and the women would know.
A chuckle bubbles in the woman's throat, her curly hair bouncing on her shoulders in mesmerizing patterns of a solar flare, her laughter melodic in ways music could never be.
"No need to be an embarrassment; it happens to the best of us, name's Adhaya Aisha, but feel free to call me Ava for short, as how I am alive, well, a bit of luck and sheer fucking determination." Another giggle brushed past Aisha's slightly cracked lips and bloomed into the air as she continued.
"The more important question is, how are you alive?"
Before Camila could even register the question, Ava prompted herself off the counter, her scared fingers reaching for a rustic, handwrought bag of crushed beans nestled on the wooden shelf to her left, spilling them into the silver machine mounted to the bar.
As the machine powered up, a soothing humming reverberated in the air and released a tantalizing aroma that enveloped the room, the added cinnamon and milk mingling with the scent in a delicate fusion of fragrance that improved its scent.
"What are you talking about?"
Camila looks up, startled; her voice betrayed the wariness brought forth by the odd question.
"You are not the first in this café, you know, and you won't definitely be the last. I'm sure you realize this isn't a run-of-the-mill place you can waltz into as you please. So many had entered those doors, from lost souls wandering the thin line between life and death to the occasional back-stabbed demon king, cast aside godlings or lost Titan. Yet you, my dear, are more impressive than any of them." With a click of her fingers, a small chunk of air beside her vanished, replaced by a gaping hole from which they peered through.
Camila gasped in surprise, her back colliding with the back of the chair with enough force to make her choke, as the gap was filled by something unnatural, their mere presence restating the banality of her existence as she barely held herself on the shallow edge of sanity away from crumbling and sweet taste of madness.
The profane and pulsating verdant lighting, more akin to sentient frenzy than any mere illumination, writhed, curled, and morphed within the endless void that was the Nightmare eye socket. Camila's mind strained to keep itself together as the very fabric of her being threatened to dissolve in the face of the grotesque truth.
Then the hole in reality disappeared, and her fear, once again, molted into an unnerving calmness.
"I mean seriously, look how that bastard roughs me up. I can barely stand as I am right now. And yet you, a human at that, stood in their presence and survived the Nightmare that god's fear and the Forest worships, so all I can say is that I am a fan of yo-"
"You are wrong."
The interruption reverberated in the room like a gunshot as a glint of confusion flashed in the woman's amethyst eye. For who wouldn't be confused to be contradicted by the person they were applauding?
Camila herself also needed help understanding where her outburst came from. Maybe it was the fact that what was supposed to be a workday turned into being transported to some strange café with a crazy bartender who spoke of demons and gods like they were nothing note-worthy. Or maybe it was the gradually growing guilt cast away by the strange calmness permeating the café that was now resurfacing with a vendetta.
Whatever it was, it compelled her to continue to speak.
"I am not brave enough to have a simple conversation with my precious baby, much less stand by her side. I am nothing more than a failure of a mot-"
And for the second time that day, someone's words were caught off as the right side of her face burst into pain. Clutching her stinging cheek, Camila didn't even see the slap make contact until a red imprint was left on her skin.
"Sorry, I got a habit of slapping people that are spewing bullshit." Ava straightened herself to a sitting position once again, running her remaining hand through her blonde knotted hair in what almost looked like exasperation.
"You are brilliant but also dumb because I got to be real with you, Camilia; I don't know what fantasy world you have been living but the number of parents that would even stay within a hundred-kilometer range of their child if the Hunter had shown a fraction of what they showed you could be counted on one hand."
"Bu-"
"No buts, this ain't a strip club."
With a shake of her hand, the bubbling coffee levitated in the air from somewhere she could not see and poured itself into the porcelain cups that had formed into existence spontaneously. Ava took a small sip, the muscle in her forehead relaxing, although the clenching grip of her finger on the cup didn't go unnoticed by Camila.
"If I am honest with you, I do not have the same psyche as humans have, but if right now, you or anyone who had the chance to meet that monstrosity told me that they wanted nothing to do with this convoluting bullshit, I would shake your hand and thank you for everything you have done so far. "
Taking another bigger chunk of the hit liquid, Ave pinched the bridge of her nose, the right side of her body almost fizzling out of existence for a moment.
"It would only be right for me to give you the chance to escape from this impossible situation you were unfortunate enough to befall, perhaps to be relieved from this never-ending dream into a macro cosmos protected by the Veil and allowed to hope— at those words, vivid vision of aliens realities emerged, gleaming with kind shadows untainted by any viscous influence o f the Nightmare beneath her daughter skin, it would only be the right choice I could take in your place, I am sure if the Monarch of the Abyss could escape then so could you "
"I don't know why, but I feel that despite this not being a strip club, I can feel a 'but' coming up". "Camila's voice was a bit more delicate and horsed at the same time, the slap she had received after so many years of being away from her mother shaking her to her core.
"Forgive my selfishness, but I must ask you not to give up on Luz."
The statement forced its way into her brain, choking it.
"Wha-H-" Her tongue flopped futilely in her mouth, incapable of forming the syllables she needed to adequately express herself. Camila's eyes blew wide open, lids outstretched, as her iris shook in place.
The urge to return the slap to the woman she had just met a minute ago yet felt like she had known for a decade exploded inside her soul, the only thing stopping her was the realization that despite how much it tore her to pieces, she was hitting too close to home.
Camila could never, not in a million eons, be able to leave her daughter's side alive. But that didn't mean she had to abandon Luz alive.
No matter how much she pretended she was okay, despite that she knew she was an adult who needed to deal with it, she
could
not.
"The choice is yours; I will not force you into anything by imposing my will onto you. Your daughter is brave, braver than any of us could ever be. She knows the rules and the consequences of not following them, but even the most courageous soul alone can not resist the will of the last nightmare-"
Before she could finish the sentence, a trembling rumble enveloped the room, the table collapsing under their weight and shelves falling to the ground, spilling different and foreign condiments on the floor. The walls splintered and crumbled, and the roof caved in, barely missing the two as it was held in the air by Ava's power.
Camila barely caught herself on the counter, feeling her heart rate spike as she felt something shift and ebb behind her.
"Pissy fucker can't wait a few hours before they throw another tantrum."
The woman sneers and, with a motion of her hand that cracks the skin of her appendage, a wall of pure azure light fills the room, momentarily delaying whatever is forcing its way into the room.
"It is almost humorous that all this pressure caused only by its future intent that says that one day, the Hunter would look this way and cause all this unnecessary chaos, nonetheless, even if we don't have any time left, it is enough to show you the memory that can give you the strength to hide Luz away from the Hunter and the world from your daughter, and if, by the end, you decide that is too much, you can walk away, and we will never meet again."
Propping her body ahead, the woman stretched her tender but firm finger forward, kissing with her fingertip the blister surface of her blind eye before Camila could even think of rebutting.
The world stands still for a beat before her eyesight is covered by the first light.
Her mistake was so stupid.
That night, under the gentle light of the moon, which cast a silver crown on top of her messy hair, she ran barefoot across the barely lit-up expanse of her town, barely managing to escape the hand of her mother trying to drag her back into the house.
She knew how her mother would react to even the idea of her speaking with a man, much less dating one in secret, even if she was in her twenties.
It was absurd to believe that the icy charcoal sphere that took the place of her mother's heart would be warmed by the idea of her daughter finding someone she loved. A stupid and absurd notion, yet the naive belief that for once in her life, her mother would show a bit of affection was like a drug to Camila, one she had grown addicted to ever since she could speak.
Her bare feet thumped against the pavement of the street, and only when it gave away to the porch of the house, whose door was always open for her, did she stop.
Amber light flooded the doorstep as the man of her dreams swung the door open. Confusion and worry pooled in her eyes, and she felt her legs collapse under her, falling into his embrace.
She had many friends, and most importantly, she had Manny, and yet she wanted nothing more than to end it all; her mother's influence on her was like a noose around her neck.
Reduced to a state reminiscent of a child, she wept on the weathered porch of the house, her lover's warm hands southing her spasming back. She felt her heart fragment into little pieces, bits of it cascading into an encompassing vortex of sorrow that slipped from her being through crystalline tears.
And yet, inside the grief-stricken vacuum where her soul resided, fury was born from shame and frustration like a sliding eruption that dug its roots in her body. An amber of exploding fireworks pooled into her veins like magma.
Through tears and broken hiccups, she feels her fingers clench and teeth grind against one another.
"This time, I am never going back."
The seemingly unyielding statement made Manny pause for a beat, his hot breath stuck at a standstill against her neck before a thin grin spread across his face.
"That's good cuz the moment that wrinkly hag decides to show her face again, I'm going to beat the living shit out of her."
The ground disappears around her as the memory fades away, forcing her body to lurch forward. Desperately trying to grab hold of the long counter, she can't silence the yelp of surprise that escapes her lips as she quickly finds out that the table is gone, along with the strange bar she had been in moments ago. As if she had never left the hospital, she opens her eyes to see the ragged halls of her workplace, the gentle light of the setting sun illuminating the room.
She rises on shaking legs from the floor, barely sensing the confused but helping hands of the cleaning servicewomen helping her stand up, unable to hear her nervous words over the blood rushing through her head.
Apologizing absentmindedly, she scurried past the worried women and out the old door, barely sensing something crack inside the door as she ripped it wide open, the entire structure of the metal object bending like Play-Doh under her grip.
A gust of fresh air fills her lungs as she steps outside, the humid breeze caresses her face, carrying the scents of freshly cut grass and flower aroma that almost overwhelms her. For a moment, her body froze like a deer in the headlights as her senses were paralyzed.
Then the moment passes, and with a forced exhale, she forcefully recovers control of her body, biting the inside of her cheek to ground herself as she rotated her body and booked it toward her home.
The shy rays of the sun were riding on her back, his light almost like urging her champion forward, even if the task ahead was undisclosed to the women.
Despite the sun almost resting under the planet's curve, there was still enough light for the street lamps to be disconnected, leaving only a few patches of darkness that were hiding between the myriad of buildings that kissed the glowing sky, waiting patiently for the loving spotlight of the moon to show its mercy.
The thudding of her boots against the seemingly unbreakable concrete reverberated in her ear. Still, it went unnoticed by the rowdy crowd of people spending their evening alongside their friends and family, oblivious to the turmoil that swallowed Camila's mind.
Her leg muscles quiver and spasm as she ducks left and right around people, eliciting a few gasps of anger from those she had slammed against in her unyielding dash to reach her home.
She didn't care. In the same way, she didn't care that she spent less than twenty minutes with the weird woman, who most likely was not human, yet more than twelve hours had gone by. Or how despite being a petite woman, she was pretty sure she had put a man two times her height on his ass when he had accidentally got in her way.
It could have been a minute or half an hour since she had begun running, but for the life r̶a̶g̶e̶ in her, she didn't know how much time had passed. She doesn't remember opening the door, her ragged breath booming in her ear or shivering as the same cold temperature she had felt on that eventful night enveloped her body. Not even the tense and quivering body of her daughter, barely clutching with shaky hands against their sink, grinding her splintering and morphing molars together in the vain hopes of keeping it together.
No, the first thing she saw was the shadow. No darkness, for it could not be so cruel, and no light, for it could not be so wicked. Unbeknownst to her, it was the shadow that had betrayed Life forever ago.
An incomprehensible mass of static and shadows undulate against her kitchen wall, feasting upon everything in its path like a brooding plague.
The shadows were nothing more than a gateway to the immaterial, a place beyond the regulation brought forth by the tip of the arrow that propelled Life forward.
It parallelled an ocean so well she couldn't help but shudder.
Her world was nothing more than the sandy beach, stranded under the kind gaze of Life. At the same time, the envious daemons, grotesque aliens, and prideful gods lay beyond the shores, nothing more than predators in an ocean synonymous with war and misery. Even the Forest, or a glimpse that she had gazed upon in the beautiful eyes of her daughter, an abomination so large it might as well be multiple existences unto itself if peered through the myopia of a simple and minute concept as an ocean, was nothing more than a colony of seagrass that spanned hundred of thousand of kilometers in all direction.
But despite her brain running through the higher thought processes that far exceeded what her mind could do, it wasn't those that almost made her want to grab the knife on the table and split her neck in two.
For all of those mentioned before were nothing more than the inhabitants, while the verdant orbs that started from behind the veil of shadows were the ocean itself.
And there and there, Camila realizes that she is dead.
There was no other explanation, no conceivable way to defend herself from being erased the moment her eyes gazed upon the Hunter's true form, for to be observed by the Hunter meant that you had never been born to be observed in the first place.
Eyes, but not really for how could an eye be a universe of absent logic, that glowed with a tint of green and ionizing radiation that forces material and immaterial to reach equilibrium before rendering them nonexistent with an absentminded thought spared a silver of their attention to Camila.
Hovering above and below her were two null spots standing furthest away from the edge of the material universe, consuming every benevolence and depravity that had been committed or will be committed.
Those were the eyes that had killed Camila Noceda.
Or she was supposed to do it if it wasn't for the thin layer of energy that protected her mortal body from combusting into a red mist.
The touch of Life that fends the gaze of the last Nightmare
That was the gift that Camila now realizes Ava had bestowed upon her.
To survive the presence of the Youngest Hatred and the necessary memories that pushed her forward in her task to be by Luz's side.
But as always, fate does not follow one's will, even if they are the Life herself, the Hunter, or the Beast that Dreams himself.
Because those memories, those simple recollections of a human who in the grand scheme of things would mean nothing, had become the most crucial gift Camila had ever received.
The Gift Of Rage
Memories that were meant to rekindle the feeling of hopeful yearning to fight against a future of futile despair for her loved one instead brought forward an emotion that she had felt so many times before but never allowed to see the light of day. That emotion was a smoldering fury that began as a low candle flame but soon boiled through every cell, tissue, and organ of her body, blooming into an endless sun that could one day consume the abyss and stand shoulder with the three Monarchs that towered over all other living beings.
It was the rage that had lay dormant since the day she had forsaken her mother, now awakened in an eruption of a searing blaze that could and will tear down all the stars in the sky.
Unconsciously, as her mind stains under the unknowable knowledge, she feels the prickling heat that covers the epidermis of the left side of her face, her blind eye morphing under the will of her Rage. Her eyelid fluttered open even though the extrinsic eye muscles were torn to shreds by the Hunter, reforming into something so much more than a simple eye.
Camila blinks for the first time in what feels like an eternity, closing her eyes even though she can still feel the unyielding glare that shatters throne worlds and renders the walls of creation obsolete.
No...she can also still see it.
Despite her eyelids covering both eyes, she can see with her "blind" one past what her right eye cannot. She could not see her kitchen with the left eye or the azure sky even if she spent hours gazing upon it, yet she could clearly observe the calamities the Hunter caused to the immaterial.
Her eye, kissed by the touch of life and split by claws of scratching song, allowed her to see what only two other humans had witnessed.
The Hunter's mere presence snuffs millions, billions, maybe more reality of the Abyss. War of wicked godlings and shapeless daemons are brought to a halt, the same creatures that had fought for eons join side not to fight the calamity, for that would be fruitless, but in the vain hope that from the billions of their brothers and sisters or even their enemies, at least one would survive. Creatures that alone could ravage solar systems, yet not even noticed by the Nightmare that ended them all.
Camila could glimpse past the rationality of her mortality and preconceived beliefs that, despite her first impression, the denizen of the immaterial did not worship this Nightmare.
Those burdened with deformed shapes or with forms beyond comprehension that did not bear any titles, rotting gods, and elder devils were now massacred mindlessly by the youngest hatred.
Camila couldn't help but feel the Rage that simmered inside her expand exponentially. She may never understand what these creatures truly are, for she was a fragment of Life and them one of the Forest, but none deserve to be snuffed out just because this anathema of everything was conscious.
Yet, the monster that had wiped so many in the blink of an eye, crushing under its oppressing existence so much, dared to glare at her with hatred. Maybe "glare" was not the right world, for that would imply that it was something finite, and nothing finite could send cascading waves of endless entropy toward the Abyss and across Creation, but the exact sentiment of a glare, if reduced to infinity, was there.
And that, even though stupid and even a little childish, made her make an astonishing decision that no one would have fathomed even if they had an eternity to think.
She glared back.
An immature decision from a human perspective and a ridiculous one from a god's perspective that managed to define all odds. Camila used all the fury inside her and loved for her daughter to bare her teeth at the Hunter.
Staring into the orbs, she saw the gnashing mouth with fangs and fangs with eyes, a dreadful design reduplicating itself ceaselessly. She felt a piece of her mind chip under the strain as something grabbed ahold of her and whispered secret truths into her ear that made her skin and teeth bleed and put into perspective how microscopic her existence was.
But Camila does not back off even if the madness that sipped from the orbs of verdant null made her understand that infinity was finite and shows her math equation that could nullify entropy or give birth to a more minor and mundane form of Crystal Madness.
The standoff went on for one minute and thirty-seven seconds before finally, in a move that would send a ripple through the immaterial, the last Nightmare was the first that broke eye contact, allowing themselves to be dragged away by the chains brought forth by the Lie.
Even though no creature would know, for the first time since their inception, the Hunter hatred had faded for just a moment, replaced by curiosity and wonder toward a creature so insignificant.
Even though no creature would know, for the first time since their inception, the link with the Luz would have a slight influence on the last Nightmare.
As for Camila, from now on, she would not be remembered by a banal title as the woman who foolishly promised to bring down all the stars in the sky for her daughter but by the moniker of the woman whose love and Rage had pushed her to stand unyielding before the nothingness between stars.
...For there are three mortals who had gazed upon a Nightmare and prevailed:
Amos Leichenberg, Sole mortal singer of the Nightmares hymn
Philip Wittebane, The Emperor of Chain and Shackles
Camila Noceda, Mother of the Last Nightmare
-𝓐 𝖘𝖒𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖆 𝖒𝖆𝖓𝖚𝖘𝖈𝖗𝖎𝖕𝖙 𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖘
Notes:
The plot thickens, and the questions pile up, but one must ask, in a universe of creatures older than fire, how could the merciless Emperor of Chains subjugate so many?
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