Swazdo-lah, Tenno! It's been a long time since I've posted a story to this anthology. Warframe is still near and dear; these past three years have been spent writing other things. I'm 50k words into a Fallout: New Vegas fic, and nearly 40k into another ancient fandom. I also have an extremely LONG 10-20k Hydroid fragment in the pipe.About a week ago, me and my SO were gathering up extra Fate Pearls for Koumei's prex, when an infected plot bunny screeched out of the bushes and bit me in the ass so hard, I immediately wrote this fragment. The Muse arrives on its own schedule, and no force in the 'verse can predict when. In any case, I hope you enjoy what became of it.As always, comments are shiny and chrome!
The dream always began the same.
A terrible storm, icy autumn rains lashing against the bone and wood and ceramic, icy rivulets splashing over bloody steps. The gentle, life-giving waters of the Unum's sea were as black as the Void itself. All along the flaying beaches, Infested growth choked the shallows in thick, organic mats. Black, inky tendrils tipped with poisonous light. Chitinous growths. Gnarled sinews thicker than a man's arm, pulsing with aberrant life. The stench was overwhelming. Like a corpse left in the water to rot, with a terrible, saccharin undertow - like the sweetest, most fecund honey. And the noises - ai yo, the noises! Like the bestial squealing of animals. Grunts and shrieks and moist, terrible groans.
The Infested had come to Cetus.
They came from the waves, tumbling over each other like an anthill. The people of Cetus retreated into their homes. Barred the doors. The shutters. The ones that were fast enough, anyway. The very young, the very old, and those who stopped to help them - friends, family, lovers - were quickly overwhelmed by the advancing tide. It was a terrible thing, the star scourge. Plague of the Orokin-that-were. All their brilliance, their cunning, their malice. Embered spores danced between the raindrops, filling lungs and clogging throats. What a terrible way to die! Husbands pleading with their wives to draw a blade across their throats before the thoughts in their heads were no longer their own. Parents staring into the cradle while something cracked and twisted beneath homespun blankets.
Throughout it all, Saya stood in the middle of the rain, her sheath clinging to her legs, stained to the knees in blood and ichor.
Unable to help.
Unable to interfere.
Something writhed beneath the waves. Something big. An ancient of its kind, with centuries to grow. A mountain of chitin, fang and poisonous barb. Saya didn't know if it'd been born beneath the waves, or merely slumbered there - asleep in the Unum's shadow - waiting out the long centuries. A speaker blimp floated high above the nightmare, broadcasting Vay Hek's voice. His taunts and jibes floated between the screams as claws scratched against shutters and tendrils wriggled under the gaps beneath doors. Outside of Cetus' walls, an army of Grineer waited. Hundreds of butchers, ghouls and Tusks. Waiting for the people to die, or be consumed. It was their fault. This nightmare - all their fault! Depth charges lowered into the deep, undersea mining that delving too greedily and too deep, breaking the seals on some forgotten laboratory.
"Let your precious dice decide!" Vay Hek jeered. "Even roll, you let the Infested consume you. Odd roll, MY GRINEER BURN CETUS TO THE GROUND!"
The dice?
Ah, yes. Koumei.
Saya turned, like she'd turned a dozen times. The statue of the Dice Maiden loomed over her in the rain. None could remember who had carved it, but it had been there since Saya was a girl, since before the time of her grandmother's grandmother. The effigy had no face - the Tenno had no face - but the worn, weathered stone exuded an aura of gentle kindness. Distant and remote, like the touch of spring sunlight, or the warmth of the hearth on a cold night. Little things, and yet... powerful. Offerings were scattered at the statue's feet; white, waxen candles, baskets of sweetfish and goopollas. Seasonal fruits and vegetables, crisp with vitality. Gourds of fine daku liquor. Offerings for good luck. Offerings to avert illness or accident. Entreaties to change one's fate.
Koumei! Gentle One! Weaver of Destiny-
Help us!
Saya bolted awake. There was a terrible moment of disorientation, of not knowing where or even when she was. Gradually, the sticky tendrils of the dream loosened their hold, and Saya once more recognized her surroundings. The home she shared with Konzu was dimly lit. Not in a terrible, ominous way, thank the Unum, but cozy and inviting. Homespun wool. Hand-carved statuettes of kuakas and condrocs Konzu loved to whittle in his spare time. Little trinkets, folded clothes - a lifetime of odds-and-ends, mingled as their lives had mingled, when they had married.
Saya sat up in bed. Her limbs were drenched in a cold sweat. Her joints ached, especially the dry twist in her knees. Most days she did not feel her age. Other times, like tonight, she had never felt so old. She ran both hands over her face, her thin hair - silver in the barest thread of moonlight sliding between the shutters - sticking to the back of her neck like cobwebs. Konzu grunted beside her.
"...What is wrong?"
She had woken him up, too. She wondered if she twisted or turned, or even screamed while the nightmare held sway.
"Nothing," she mumbled. "Go back to sleep."
But Konzu's dark eyes gleamed up at her, his face lined with fresh creases from the pillow.
"The dream again?"
Saya heaved a sigh. "The dream again," she admitted.
Konzu stretched a hand across the mattress and patted her back consolingly.
"Ai yo, I have not had such dreams since I was a little girl," Saya continued in exasperation. "My mother would constantly have to to reassure me of this or that - that the Grineer could not get into Cetus, that the great Eidolon did not wait outside the gate to snatch me in its jaws! I was quite the nervous child. Once I dreamed of a burning mountain which crashed into the Moh and how Gara went into battle against it - riding a horse of all things!"
There was a heavy pause as they thought about the meteorite which had crashed into Plains, cancerous with star scourge. Saya chuckled ruefully.
"How my sister laughed at my imagination! The Tenno were little more than myth then. Nowadays I am afraid what other "myths" might suddenly reappear."
"Have you ever spoken with the Quills?" Konzu asked.
"Bah! The Quills speak in circles. When Onkko disappeared, they would tell me nothing, so I cast the Five Fates. Did I ever tell you? Of all the patterns to get, it was the Blooming Flower. Ai yo, how I raged then!" Saya laughed and shook her head. "Koumei knew best."
"Her feast day comes after tomorrow," said Konzu reassuringly. "Your mind is filled with thoughts of fate and fortune!"
"Perhaps. It does not soothe me, however."
Konzu patted her thigh consolingly. "Try to get back to sleep," he said.
She leaned over and kissed his wizened forehead.
"Follow your own advice. There will no doubt be at least a dozen squabbles over vegetables for you to sort out in the morning!"
Grumbling, Konzu plumped his pillow and rolled over. After a long moment, Saya laid herself out beside him - but she did not sleep. Long after her husband's snores filled the empty house, she did not sleep. In the twilight of her years, Saya had experienced bad dreams many times before. They were always brief, fleeting things. Even the worst of the lot faded as soon as she opened her eyes. But this dream... lingered on. Closing her eyes did not erases the sight of the Infested ravaging Cetus, nor did her husband's snores blot out the memory of those awful sounds.
When the grey, milky twilight filtered through the shutters, and it was appropriate to be out of bed, Saya slipped from the covers and put a pot of water to boil. Gathering dried boba leaves, salt and nutritious balb flour, she packed them into two gourds, put a cut of tralok on the grill, and cracked eggs into a pan. As always, the delicious aromas brought Konzu out of bed, blinking and grunting. It was their way. She handled the morning meal. He prepared their dinner. It was a good arrangement for the both of them. They sipped their hot harpu in companionable silence.
When the sun was warm and high, they bid each other farewell, and left the house to attend their separate duties. He to the matters of a village Elder - settling formal disputes, hiring off-world talent - and she to Hok's forge to get their kitchen knife resharpened. After that, there was much to do prepare for Koumei's feast day. She had to muffle her laughter as Hok insinuated that his assistant's mother had hopped around while pregnant, presumably scrambling the poor boy's brains. Such bluff and bluster! Everyone in Cetus knew Hok doted on Pedlek, maintaining that daily insults kept the boy "humble, with both feet planted on the ground rather than his head planted firmly in his ass!"
With her personal business concluded, Saya wove through the marketplace. Everyone called out to her, and she made time for each and every one of them - whether it was a simple wave, or a few moments conversation. This morning, however, she noticed a certain... discomfort in the air. It was a subtle thing. So subtle she wondered if her own disturbed rest were not projecting itself on everything in sight. Pedlek was not the only one half-asleep at his post. More than a few people had bags under their eyes, clutching gourds of hot kahve like condrocs over a kill. Others seemed unusually quite. Saya passed a knot of young women listening to one of their own complain how her infant had awoken screaming in the night, and no amount of rocking, patting, or mother's milk had been able to coax the child back to sleep.
So often it is the children who truly know, while the adults scoff.
Saya quickened her stride.
She was able to keep such anxieties at bay for most of the day. There was much to do and prepare. Curtains of steam boiled from the communal kitchens as people worked on the feast; white sponge cake with sweet, sliced mapricos, grilled tralok, white dumplings filed with kuaka meat and fresh garlic, or the most popular - a fish-shaped treat made of thin, sweet dough stuffed with peca nut paste, kuaka meat, or fragrant vegetables. It was a way of tying the earth and sea together; the symbol of Mer-Sah's domain plump with the bounty of the Er-Phryah's land.
Saya dropped in at each of the kitchens, soothing ruffled feathers and mediating petty disputes. Cetus was born of community, of cooperation - but like any muscle, it needed exercised constantly, and was prone to becoming sore and injured from overuse. Being the wife of the Chief Elder, with plenty of her own wisdom under her belt, had taught Saya a thing or two about keeping the peace. Most of her afternoon was spent putting out small fires that arose between the temple harvesters and those who wished to purchase a jug of temple kuva.
It was tradition for each member of the family to sip the thick, oily liquid and cast the Five Fates in hopes of receiving a glimpse into the future. When was a good time to marry, whether one ought to purchase a new boat or repair the old one. Questions from all walks of life. Saya had often seen outsiders, many of then tipsy on cheap kombuchi, scoff at what they thought of as "mundane" questions. In Saya's experiences, their was no such thing as mundane. Each person's life was as important to he or she as the great wars that had tipped the fate of Origin System in ages long since past.
By the time the light began to wane, Saya was feeling worn. Her knees ached, and she thought longingly after a long bath and a jar of liniment. The sun was a molten orb on the western horizon, painting everything in a breathtaking palette of fiery reds, deep oranges, and soft, dusky violet. Where the light kissed the sea, it shattered into a million colors. Mergoos screeched and wheeled in the sunset. Dark, steely clouds were gathering, obscuring the Sentient bones jutting up on the horizon.
It might rain tonight, Saya thought. Then she thought: I should pick up a murkray for dinner.
Despite the warm glow, however, the rising wind had a bite to it, whipping her hair back with invisible hands. Saya wrapped her shawl against it and hurried to the hut where Konzu lived out his days being available to the public. Located on a spit of land near the edge of the village for privacy's sake, the hut was a large, but very modest affair - indicated by long streamers of red canvas that fluttered from the eaves. Saya had planted boxes of snapdragons, ruk's claws and dragonlillies in large pots when she and Konzu were wed. The overall effect was quite welcoming, she thought. Hopefully she wouldn't have to pry her husband from his work, or find him blinking like an owl somebody had thrown from the loft - having lost all track of time.
Saya laid her hand on the door curtain and drew it aside.
"It is late, Konzu! Have you eaten at all today, or do I have to drop in and rap you on your skull to remin-"
She stopped short on the threshold.
Tenno.
The head that turned in Saya's direction was lotus-shaped, like a bud rising from the water, crowned with a glowing coronet of ribbons. It was taller than her, and by a significant margin. A relic of a bygone era when the great Orokin-that-were easily reached six or seven feet of soft, lotus-blue skin. A living statue of cool, white ceramic and scintillating gold, wrapped in a halo of flames. She could see creatures looping in those flames - tiny serpents, or maybe dragons - weaving around the Warframe in a constant dance of movement. Saya had heard of ephemeras before; beastly expensive, holographic lights worn by the rich and well-to-do of the System. In this case, however, Saya doubted it was mere light. She could feel the gentle heat on her skin as the creatures orbited. Hear the delicate crackle of their flames.
"Apologies, surah," she said softly. "I did not mean to intrude."
"You are not intruding," Konzu reassured her. "We were just finishing up, eh killer?"
Killer.
Her husband dealt with many of the Tenno and their myriad of shifting Warframes, coordinating various bounties, rescue and recovery missions on the vast Eidolon Moh - but only one had been gifted with the honorific of "killer". The very first who had come to their shores. How Konzu told the difference between them was a mystery to Saya, and she had mixed feelings about the pejorative. She'd had never been able to decide if it was a mark of union and friendship, that the Tenno allowed itself to be called by pet names - or was simply too polite to point out her husband was a demented old fart.
What had began as a wary, tentative association had solidified into a solid partnership. The Tenno maintained good relations with the village of Cetus. They, like so many others, often came to trade for information, silks and resources. Even so, the Tenno were a secretive group. No-one saw them unless they wanted to be seen.
The Tenno acknowledged the situation by dipping its chin - but it was not looking at her husband.
Saya could feel the weight of its eyes - if instead there were eyes behind that expressionless helmet - on her face. Gazing, not at her, but through her. It put it's head on one side. Slowly. Like a wild vasca eying its dinner. Saya quickly put the metaphor from her mind. It came back swiftly as the Warframe took a step towards her. It closed the distance with deliberate purpose, giving her ample time to retreat. Saya did not. She tilted her head back to keep the Warframe's face in view. The dragons opened to include her in their endless orbit.
"You have my thanks, surah," she said softly. "For everything you have done, and for whatever things my idiot husband has said when he forgets to eat his lunch."
"I resent that," Konzu grumbled.
The Warframe lifted its hand. Even its fingers were dipped in pure aurum. No, not aurum, Saya corrected herself, thinking of a conversation she'd had with the Forgemaster. Forma. An Orokin alloy whose secret to production had been lost to brooding time. It was why bits and pieces of it were so valuable in Ostron society, encompassing everything from knife blades, to jewelry and family heirlooms. It stretched those gleaming fingers towards her face, leaving Saya somewhat uncertain of it's intentions. Surely not to pat her on the head! Its index and middle fingers touched the center of her forehead. And they was cold, those fingers. Cold.
Images knifed through her skull.
The Infested overrunning Cetus.
Darkness and rain.
The screams of the dying.
Vay Hek's jeering laughter.
The Warframe's hand twitched like it'd touched the surface of a griddle, breaking contact with her forehead. Startled, Saya quickly took a step back. She and the Tenno stared at each other for a long moment, its hand hovering at half-mast between them. Slowly, its arm fell back to its side. As it brushed past her, Saya caught the fading scent of fire-hardened steel and the finest kyara incense mingled with the lick of blood not yet dried. The curtain rustled behind, and suddenly the Tenno was gone without a word. Saya let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Konzu was looking at her oddly.
"...is everything alright?" he asked.
Saya lifted a wizened knuckled and rubbed her forehead. The vision had been brief, but startling in its clarity, like the Tenno's unseen eyes had peered directly into her thoughts. There was something else, too - the impression of a young boy with hair the color of purple wine, his glowing eyes - ai yo, those eyes! - boring into her soul like ice picks, strange and horrible as an endless night where black stars rose. Her heart hammered against her breast. And yet his expression had been so kind. So kind, utz.
"Saya?"
Her husband had not seen the Tenno's fingers against her forehead.
"It is nothing," she said, letting her hand fall. "It has been a long day, and I am famished with hunger!"
"And you lecture me about eating," Konzu groused. "I thought you were in the kitchens all day."
"That is beside the point."
"Seems relevant to me."
"Everything is relevant to you. You should have been a merchant, you old bean counter."
"And you should have been a flesh harvester with that nagging voice of yours."
Leaning on his staff, Konzu rose from the cushion behind his low desk. Saya took the hand he was holding out to her, and Konzu kissed the back of her knuckles - tasting sweat and garlic and balb flour dusted on her skin - before folding her hand over his arm, as though they were youths courting 'neath the maprico trees. Despite her weariness, and the unpleasant shock she'd received some moments ago, Saya couldn't help the smile that crept across her face.
"Flatterer. I am ugly and old."
"I only see the light of the moon," said Konzu sweetly.
"Those are the cataracts."
"Ah, well. Lucky for our marriage that I cannot see how unfortunate you look."
She kissed the side of his face, and leaned against his side as they walked, basking in the pleasant glow of being loved. The marketplace, far from slowing down for the evening, was just getting into the swing of things. Warriors returning from the Eidolon Moh gathered at the stalls and communal kitchens, filling their bellies with grilled squid and sweet potatoes, and nutritious slices of temple flesh. Those leaving work for the day were busy picking up ingredients for the evening meal. And of course, there were the usual handful of off-world visitors dressed in shimmer-silk or simple bodygloves, soaking in the myriad of scents and sounds unique to Cetus.
"I need to pick up our knife from the Forgemaster," said Saya. "And we should purchase a mirelurk for dinner."
Then walked little further before she added: "And what job did you burden the Tenno with tonight?"
"Bad business, utz," said Konzu, shaking his head. "Mikhal has not been home in three nights. His sister is worried he has run afoul of Grineer."
"Mikhal the miner?"
"The same."
"That is bad news. He was told not to wander so far!"
"Mikhal does as Mikhal does," said Konzu, shrugging.
"And he is likely to pay for that attitude," Saya muttered.
They stopped at Hai-luk's stall first and purchased a fresh side of mirelurk wrapped in clean brown paper. As always, progress was slow. Everyone wanted to bend Konzu's ear to whatever problem they were having. Night was falling by the time they made their way up the avenue of metalworkers. They passed a large crowd gathered in front of the puppet-master's theater, young and old alike sitting cross-legged on thick rugs, while enchanted tourists recorded the affair on handheld captura devices. The bright sound of a shawzin plucked at the cool night air. Konzu grinned.
"I loved these when I was a boy," he said fondly.
"You still do," Saya corrected him.
They stood a moment and watched the ornate puppets - dressed sumptuously in silks and miniature jewelry - reenact the story of Ulgen and Elrik, the warrior and archivist, who sought to fight against the corruption that blanketed a world that was no more. Ulgen, kindhearted and gentle, had spoken words of reform. Hulking Elrik, born in the fires of war, sought to rebuild a newer, better order from the ashes of the old one. Unable to reconcile their differences, they became bitter enemies - destined to fight across the stars. A favorite of the people Cetus, the tale was designed as a lesson, to show what happens when differences of thought sow conflict rather than strengthening the whole.
Someone in the crowd, Corpus probably, scoffed. Saya was idly scanning the crowd for the naysayer when her gaze fell on two young boys huddled together in conversation, paying no attention to the theater.
"-and I'm telling you the demons are asleep beneath the water," the older boy said in an annoyed tone. "The Unum protects us! So do the Tenno. There is no reason to be afraid. Besides, you are getting far too old to let bad dreams frighten you!"
"But Mermu," the younger boy protested, his hair long and plaited in a youth-lock, "I saw it! On Koumei's feast day!"
"And last week you saw a Tenno disappear into solid rock!"
"But-"
"Ai yo, it was only a dream! Now would you be quite? I am trying to watch."
"You have seen it a dozen times," the younger boy muttered.
Saya suddenly felt cold. It was as she'd feared. It was not only she that whose rest had been disturbed by putrescent visions. More than a few people across Cetus had experienced the same - especially the children. All at once, Saya wished she'd had the courage to lay a hand aside the Warframe's arm that afternoon and explain her concerns. If their was anyone who could have laid those concerns to rest, it would have been the Tenno. Konzu squeezed her hand on his arm.
"Did you forget your shawl somewhere? You're very cold."
"Let us go home," said Saya quietly.
The knife was picked up at the forge, but only due to Konzu's insistence. Saya's thoughts were elsewhere. When they got home, she barely paid attention as her husband filleted the mirelurk and setting it to grill. Unlike many homes, they had their own small kitchen so they wouldn't have to brave the chill during the winter months. Saya's thin hands, which had begun to ache in the evenings, mechanically rubbed heating liniment into her throbbing knee - the pungent, warming smell of cinnamon and clove filling the air. She didn't notice the mirelurk had been served along with a bowl of simple brown oriza until Konzu rapped her forearm with his finger.
"Are you still concerned about that dream?" he asked.
Saya capped the bottle of liniment. "It has troubled me all day," she admitted at length. "I fear that it is more than a mere dream - but a Fate Dream! Many people I encountered today are plagued by the same vision - especially the children. Unless Cetus has fallen to the grip of madness, I do not believe it is coincidence."
"Fate Dreams are not uncommon," Konzu pointed out reasonably. "I've had one or two in my day. As they Quills say, they are only possibilities - a glimpse at a single point amidst a hundred maybe-futures and countless maybe-worlds! The fact that we have decided to eat mirelurk this evening has already wiped out half of those possibilities, and conjured a thousand more."
"Bah! Why do you not become Quill?" Saya grumbled. "You certainly sound like one!"
"Unum forbid," said Konzu. "It is hard enough keeping one future straight, let alone many. You will find me stark-naked on the Plains baying at Lua in a fortnight - and then you'd have your hands full beating away other women with a stick, eh?"
He winked at her meaningfully. Saya rolled her eyes, but she reached across the table, and Konzu enfolded her hand in his.
"If you are still upset in the morning, we might try informing the Tenno," he added. "To put your mind at ease."
"I wish I had spoken with that one earlier," Saya mumbled.
"Spilled milk," said Konzu, again very reasonably. "Besides, maybe you will rest well tonight. Why don't you heat a cup of moon milk? It might help!"
Then finished their dinner, and set about the quiet hum of a restful evening. Konzu worked on his latest figurine. Saya busied herself with rolling the aromatic woods, roots and resins for the little cones of incense she made for their personal use, setting them to dry in the rafters of the house. Before she'd married Onkko, she'd been apprenticed to an incense maker. Even after all these years, the soft fragrance and simple, repetitive task never failed to bring her some measure of peace.
When the hour grew late, she poured a clay mug with heated milk and spices, and added a generous handful of what the Orokin-that-were used to refer to as tasoma - to invite pleasant dreams. By the time she laid down to sleep next to Konzu, the weariness of the day had crept up suddenly, and despite the anxieties she felt (blunted as the were by the soothing drink), she fell asleep against her will.
Gentle Lua rose in the east, gleaming between scudding patches of clouds.
Tenno lisets descended with their Void cloaks engaged - moving between the fabric of reality, not quite here, not quite there, surfing the grey twilight that existed somewhere between the folds. Warframes deployed from their docking cradles, appearing suddenly as they plummeted to earth. Despite their immense weight, they landed in silence. As Cetus slumbered, they crept into the shallow cliffs near the shoreline where Koumei's shrine resided, forever looking out to sea.
A few stubs of candles were burning, throwing a faint light over the moss-covered folds of Koumei's statue, hands delicately folded in her lap - the posture of a devotee, of an Orokin maiden at a tea ceremony whose complex rules and social graces had faded into obscurity. Waiting. A few kuakas skittered away as the Warframes approached, abandoning the offerings of fruit and fish they'd been dining on in favor of crouching in nearby holes, beady eyes shining.
There were two of them tonight - the Marshal of the Central Alter that hung above in the night sky, and the one known as Nyx. The Harbinger of Insanity. A cacophony of voices in constant harmony (discord) - the sound of thought itself, that being equivalent to a form. Their combined light drifted over the shrine, merging in the handwoven jute and damp, trembling flowers before flashing in brilliant starpoints on bits of forma scattered amongst the offerings. Thunder rumbled ominously.
"Cast your net wide," said Nezha without speaking. "I want everything within range"
Nyx slowly turned her head to look at him. She was a fearsome creation, this Warframe. Horrifying and eerie, and so beautiful, that to gaze at her too long was to invite the whispers of madness. Crowned like a tyrannical Empress with a sharp crest of forma-plated, Infested bone. Beneath its curve, liquid thoughts swirled beneath a transparent skullcap. The call of the Void; to jump from a high place, or step out into the blackness of space without an EVA suit - just to feel that last and final moment when your skin turned cold and your last breath was snatched away. Of all the dread forms Ballas had molded in his lab, Nyx was perhaps the most frightening. How could you fight against what's inside your head?
"Even the kuakas? (You might know/unite/think in terms of cheese and filling the grass with offspring.)"
Nyx spoke in two voices; the first confident and firm, the other no more than an eerie whisper.
Manifest and unmanifest thought, irrevocably entwined.
"Everything."
Nezha went to his knees with both hands placed on his thighs. Silent as darkness, Nyx moved to stand behind him. Both hands rose to frame his helmet in a living cage.
"Are you certain you do not wish me to do this alone? It might be... difficult. (Roiling, moaning, this realm of ours. In madness, lost shall die.)"
Fass.
Nezha cracked the Infested gristle in his neck.
"I am prepared."
I have seen worse, he did not say, thinking of the Void which hung about the Zariman, or the blackness in the Other's eyes.
He had a feeling Nyx heard his thoughts anyway. Thunder rumbled again, and the sky split open with the first rain of autumn. Chill with the promise of winter, the falling droplets were heavy and cold, a balm to the parched grass and tired, wilting mapricos growing out on the Plains. The candles at Koumei's feet snuffed. The only light now came from the Warframes themselves. Brilliant, unholy, Void.
"Then we go. (And die the little death.)"
There was a flash of poisonous light as Nyx's hands turned radiant with light and dancing Orokin script - insufficient words to describe the madness of chaos, and the compulsion of dreams. There was a catapulting sensation, of his mind being flung into the abyss, where blackened eyes (stars) gazed, accused, and denied. Of himself being ripped from himself. Destiny twitched, like an over-wound shawzin- and the Tenno entered that realm of potential, kuva-soaked from the Unum's consumed flesh, and dreamed.
The Dream began again.
Once more Saya found herself standing in the rain, each droplet stealing a little more of her body's warmth-
-but this time, she did not stand alone.
Others gathered on the stairs with her. Raf, the cosmetics sellers. Tuya, who was getting married soon. The twins, Lola and Lana, born nine winters ago. The nervous boy from the puppet theater. Nakak, with her eyes heavy with wisdom beyond her young life, standing without her mask. A sullen girl with pale hair, whose parents had drowned out to sea. A stranger in Corpus silk who had come to have his fortune told. A crowd of fifteen or twenty people, blinking in the icy rain.
The Infested were coming.
Saya felt warmth against her back.
The crowd parted around the Warframe that Saya had encountered that afternoon. She stared at it in mingled awe and relief. Many times she had lived out this particular dream - but always by herself. Never with others. Never with Tenno. The crowd rustled nervously, whispering. Saya's eyes shifted to the roof of the nearest hut. Another? she thought, awestruck. Crouched on all fours, bestial, hunting, this one was wrapped in a mantle of green. Not the vibrant, full green of summer, or even the rotted green of infection - but the emerald vibrancy of arsenic, the poison of kings.
There was a chilling screech - and the sound of Vay Hek's gloating.
"But- but Mermu said the monsters would sleep forever!" the youngest boy cried. Saya recalled his name. Poma.
There was a scrape of steel as the Tenno hefted a magnificent polearm. Over seven feet in length, it was bladed at both ends - decorated with ribbons and a blade guard in the shape of a lotus. A weapon that could cleave armor and chitin as easily as Hai-luk could gut a khut-khut. Saya suddenly thought she understood.
"No," she said softly. "This nightmare is a gift. A chance to change our fate!"
The fiery Tenno glanced over it's shoulder at her.
"It is difficult to change fate's course."
It did not speak, but she heard the words in her head - a boy's voice. So young. So very young!
"We share this dream," said another voice - a young girl. "This places stands on the sandbar between Form (Jahu) and Void (Lokh). Here, the weft may be plucked, the tapestry rewoven. (Little by little, your efforts shape your fate!)"
Her voice chased itself, whispers scratching through Saya's head like the claws of kuakas. It made her want to itch her very brain. Ai yo, what a terrible thing that voice! How easy would it be for such a voice to whisper terrible things, awful things - things that peeled the soul and laid it bare. Madness would be sure to follow.
"We must push back against the weight of possibility," the boy added.
"You cannot alter the course of fate without choice. (If wishes were fishes, beggars might ride.)" the girl(s) added.
The Tenno wanted them to fight.
"How?" Saya whispered.
The answer came to her with the sudden, all-knowing clarity of dreams - like knowing you could fly, or breathe beneath the waves. Offerings. Offering to Koumei, the dice-maiden. The Puppeteer. Offerings to Fate itself. In this intangible realm, where corporeal law held no sway, it was the act of offering that mattered. Collective desire made manifest through the choice to act. The Warframe twirled its spear. Rain spat and crackled against the flames.
"We will hold the Infested at bay."
"You will dream (wish/fight/act)."
Someone in the crowd whimpered.
"Enough of that!" Saya ordered, not unkindly. "Quickly, get inside! We must make offerings to Koumei to push back against this tide!"
There was no argument; everyone dreamed the same impossible dream, had heard the same impossible (possible) words. Saya shooed them towards the nearest house. The door stood stood ajar, beckoning them inside. The interior was illuminated with beeswax candles and breath lanterns, flickering light mingled in a dream-like dance. Empty baskets were heaped on the floor - but nothing else. Outside, the Infested screeched.
"There is nothing here!" the Corpus stranger cried.
"Yes there is," said Nakak quietly. "If you believe there is."
Suddenly her arms were filled with dried oriza stalks, scythed down in the field on reaping day, their nodding heads heavy with nourishing grains. The girl nodded, too, as if this made perfect sense. Sitting down with the bundle in her lap, she began to plait the strands together. Koumei's Cords, thought Saya. Hung up up on the dice-maiden's feast day to symbolism wishes for a rich harvest.
"BEHOLD!" Vay Hek's gloating voice boomed, "the fearsome Ostron counter-attack: GIFT BASKETS!"
Several people cringed. Nakak continued to braid, unperturbed.
"Come!" said Saya briskly. "We have work to do!"
Rain drummed on the roof like a hail of stones, sluicing from the eaves in little rivers. In dreams, Saya's body was free of the little aches and pains of old age. She went down on her knees, her thoughts consumed by what gifts she could possibly offer. Almost automatically, she thought of sandalwood, cassia, and the powerful, earthy aroma of patchouli from the distant jungle clades. Roasted choya, vetivert and myrrh. Even the terribly expensive wood of the kyara tree, and ingredient she'd never been able to afford - but this was a dream, was it not?
All things were possible!
The ingredients appeared between heartbeats, spread on a squares of plain linen. Saya got to work, adding water to the binding power, and kneading the incense ingredients into a fine paste, which she formed into little balls, cones and sticks. All around her, the people of Cetus dreamed. Some of the other women were dressing a fine basket of gopollas. The twins had summoned sheets of parchment and pots of ink, writing wishes on zigzagging strips of paper. Tuya cleaned vegetables in a basin of clear, cold water. The infested shrieked, and Saya noticed that if her concentration started to slip, the ingredients in her hands would no longer hold their shape.
Outside, the battle raged.
Ropy guts sluiced onto the putrid ground. Bones cracked. Gristle tore. The tide was endless-
-but so were the Tenno.
Unable to help himself, Poma climbed onto his knees beneath the shutter and peeked out. A body struck the side of the rocks and slid down the siding, leaving a gory smear. Poma clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle a scream. Whatever malformed thing lay in the mud, it was impossible to tell what it had been. It had a man's hands and feet, but hunched along on all fours like a beast, glowing tendrils sprouting along its spine like a mergoo's crest. It dragged itself through the mud towards Poma, towards the fragile little house where everyone worked.
A sword stabbed downwards through the creature's back, pinning it to the mud. Poma lifted wide eyes to the Tenno's face as it tore the blade free. Emerald light blurred into a halo through the sheeting rain. A malevolent angel, standing with endless, patient malice. Somewhere in that narrow chin, Poma was certain there were teeth. Dozens of gnashing, zippered teeth like a murkray's grin.
"We are monsters (born to slay monsters)," the girl's voice whispered.
Another deformed thing leapt over the rocks. The Tenno disemboweled it midair.
Sliding away from the shutter, Poma folded paper fish with shaking hands. Yellow fish. Blue fish. Fishes covered in little pink flowers. Fishes for good luck, his mother's voice said. Poma thought they could use all the good luck they could get. Little by little, the people of Cetus filled the house full of baskets - fragrant incense packed alongside crisp vegetables, fish and parchment, and wishes aplenty. As they did so, Koumei's fingers threw another cord round the wrists and ankles of fate, binding it like a puppet dancing on strings. In this place, everything was possible; the faces of the Eternal scattered like the infinite stars in the sky.
"Let your precious dice decide!" Vay Hek jeered. "Even roll, you let the Infested consume you. Odd roll, MY GRINEER BURN CETUS TO THE GROUND!"
In an instant, the hut was gone. Saya's hair and veil plastered to her skull as she and the others stood beneath the driving rain, clutching baskets of wishes. Koumei's statue loomed as lightning painted a jagged streak across the sky. The sea that stood at the base of the Unum lashed in the storm, but Saya could not tell if the angry waters were the result of the wind, or the Infested life roiling beneath the waves.
"Place the offerings!" the boy Tenno ordered, his voice resounding inside her mind.
The people of Cetus laid their gifts at Koumei's feet. The Quills see what had been, and what will be, but they did not share their knowledge. For the ordinary folk, the shrine of the dice maiden served as an oracle. A chance to snatch a glimpse of their future - to change it, even - and Saya felt the world (dream) shudder with every basket they placed. For generations, the people of Cetus had prayed to her as a deity, her origins obscured by time as a stone is obscured by moss. The revelation of her true nature as Warframe had not changed their minds, however. Having seen the terrible, awe-inspiring power the Tenno wielded firsthand, the people of Cetus figured they'd had the right of it all along.
The world shuddered to its roots as the baskets were laid.
Hurled to her knees, Saya could only watch in horror as something moved beneath the putrid waves. It heaved itself up on shore, a nightmarish mukade over 7 meters high, every one of its many, many legs like a scythe used to harvest oriza. An Oni of the ancient world, who must have been birthed when the Orokin-that-were still walked the halls of Lua. Squeals and meaty pops erupted beneath it's feet as it trampled the lesser beasts of its kind. Gripping Nakak about the girl's narrow shoulders, Saya swept her against her side and held her close.
"May the Unum have mercy!" she croaked.
Next to them on that exposed cliff, wet with blood and sea-spray, the Tenno crouched and prepared to spring.
Kumihimo.
A handful, a dozen- a hundred razored wires filled the distance between them and the approaching horror. Each one glowed with the diamond clarity of a cobweb strung in sunlight; some brighter, others nearly invisible in the storm. Running full tilt into them, the smaller Infested beheaded, amputated, and disemboweled themselves against them. The mighty Oni stopped and pranced, feeling the bite of the wires against its breast.
"Look!" Poma cried in a shrill voice.
He was pointing back towards the shrine.
Saya turned to look.
A petite Warframe was perched on the coronet of forma that backed the shine, a spear balanced across her shoulders. Tall, as they all were, but tiny; a young maiden, with delicate hands and spike healed feet, clad in thick folds of pseudo-clothing - a crimson skirt, a delicate white shirt crossed over tiny breasts. Even the suggestion of long hair had been rendered over that expressionless face, a crown of metal flowers floating several inches above her brow - shedding holographic petals onto her shoulders. It were as if weathered stone had been brought to life.
"Koumei," Saya rasped.
"She walks amongst us again!" Tuya cried.
The Warframe dangled unnaturally. Her right arm and shoulder were hiked above the level of her head, hoisted up by luminous filaments, and her toes didn't quite touch the arch of the shrine. A puppet, Saya thought, thinking of the beautiful bunranku that night at the theater - Ulgen and Erlik, actors in a play, controlled from behind the stage. Koumei's head ratcheted up as someone- some thing tugged on the filaments. Delicate hands grasped at the polearm and gave it an expert twirl, pirouetting down amongst them a little too slowly - buoyed by invisible strings. Here in this dream, the Guardian of the Five Fates herself had come to aid them. Was she really here? Then again, Saya thought numbly, were any of them truly here? Somehow, she didn't think so.
"All that we see (or seem) is but a dream (within a dream)," the female Tenno whispered unhelpfully.
The Oni roared, the sound tearing at Saya's ears.
The Tenno kicked off from the cliffside.
They soared like condrocs unfettered by gravity. Landing in the midst of the swarm, the emerald frame (Nyx!) the voices whispered. sent a wave of energy crashing through the wave of Infested - infiltrating their minds, stripping them of every vestige of free will. Orokin script flickered between their bodies. (Obey!) the voices demanded. It wasn't difficult; there was so little of their minds left, individuality subsumed by the greater Hive, there was no independent thought - only base impulses. Hunger. Rage. Hatred. So easy to turn it back on themselves...
Obey!
Obey...
OBEY.
The Infested stopped, ichor splashing between their claws. They turned on their heels - sitting, squealing, baying around the Warframe's feet like trained hounds. Nyx lifted a condemning finger. As one, the creatures surged back towards the Oni. Biting and clawing, tearing through chitinous segments. The mukade reared back, half it's body rising off the ground.
The Marshal leapt onto its neck.
(Nezha) the voices acknowledged. (Mara Lohk! MaraLohkmaralohkmaralohk)
Driving its bladed polearm into the monster's neck with a spurt of gore, it whirled the gilded ring from its back in a dance of fire and ribbons, and hooked it beneath the Oni's upper jaw as it opened it's mouth to roar. Teeth and pincers gnashed, hurling droplets of venom, as the Warframe braced its feet against the monster's skullcap - riding it as one would ride the extinct beasts that once roamed the Eidolon Moh, what Tesonai had called "horses".
And Koumei danced.
Sacred envelopes appeared around her in a ring, orbiting. Koumei snatched one up and broke the seal. Saya's breath caught. To open a fortune charm and gaze at the slip of paper inside was to invite ill fortune! The mukade bucked furiously, nearly unseating its rider. Vay Hek's howls of laughter rang out across the water.
"NONSENSE! You pray to NONSENSE!"
Discarding the fortune, Koumei furiously seized another.
In their blind rage, some of the Infested turned back on Nyx. Guts and pulsating, malformed organs flew as she sliced into them, painting her skin in their infected blood. Claws raked against the rocks as dozens more tried to mount the cliffside to reach them, scrambling over each other like crabs in a bucket. Poma screamed as one nearly seized his ankle. Nyx flung out a hand. A fusillade of luminous, transparent bolts slammed the creature into the rocks.
Again and again, Koumei broke the seals on her envelopes - searching for the one that would turn the tide. One future of a hundred thousand. Each time she cast one aside, Saya could feel the world slipping around her. Flickers of those discarded futures flashed in her mind - the Tenno trampled, Infested beasts snuffling at their corpses, Cetus in flames as the Grineer picked it clean - rising up like a flash in a pan before sinking back beneath the foam. Ai yo, was this how the Quills viewed the world? A constant shifting of fortune where nothing, not even the dawn, was ever certain? No wonder each and every one of them were mad!
Nakak broke free of Saya's grip and crawled towards the shrine. Grabbing up the wet stub of a candle, she cupped both hands around it, shielding it beneath her scrawny body. Somehow, a tiny flame ignited to kindle the wick. Nakak held it up to everyone to see. Despite the pounding rain, the flame did not extinguish. Such is the impossibility of dreams.
"We stand with you, surah!" she shouted in a reedy voice.
In the midst of chaos, the people of Cetus lit their candles. Some cupped them between their hands, as Nakak had done. Others held theirs out to be lit by another, delicate flames springing to life in the moon-soaked gloom, until the shrine was bathed in their gentle flicker. A beacon of hope. Warmth against the bitter storm. A gentle cup of tea offered to one who is hurting. A nursery of tiny flames (stars), each one a fragile, desperate hope.
It wasn't much (it is enough!)
One of Koumei's envelopes twinkled, flashing gold for just a heartbeat. The Dice-Maiden snatched it up.
The Marshal seemed to catch fire. A second set of arms burst from his shoulders, each one wrapped in living flame. With impossible strength, all four hands gripped the ring and wrenched the monster's head back - exposing its soft, putrid underbelly. Nyx's army of the enslaved rushed the Oni's legs, tripping it up, binging it down. Koumei seized her spear. She launched forward like an arrow shot from a bow, leaping, twisting, dancing beneath the razor-field of deadly wires. The tiny bells attached to her spear rang merrily as her final leap buried the weapon beneath the monster's throat, so deep the blade punched through the top of its head.
Lifting skyward, the terrible mukade sluiced sideways like a felled tree. It fell with a crash, hurling a flume of blood, salt-water and ichor that splattered Saya's face, killing hot. Like water from the cookpot. Bladed legs twitched and curled in a paroxysm of agony as the beast doubled and twisted on itself, making the most terrible of noises.
And then, just like that, there was silence.
Cowed, the lesser Infested stopped in their tracks. Vay Hek's voice rose obnoxiously.
"HOW?! How could the mighty Oni fall to TENNO TRICKERY!?"
"Silence, you bloated oaf," said Saya wearily.
The Tenno turned to face them. The Marshal, the Dice-Maiden, and the Harbinger. Numinous they were, vanguard of the Orokin-that-were. Beautiful, terrible, impossible things. It would have been easier to accept them as mere specters of dreams - or even as the shadows of a nightmare - not physical things that walked the waking world, the dread precision of flesh and bone. And yet, linked together in this place beyond reality, Saya felt such ferocity and compassion, she was nearly moved to tears. Of the hundreds of millions of would-be futures, this one would not be amongst them.
"Dah-dap, surahs," she whispered, her throat tight.
As one, the Tenno brought their closed fists to their hearts, bowed-
-and dropped to their knees in the mud, lifeless as statues.
They're all puppets, thought Saya, in a terrible flash of insight. Dangling on Tenno strings.
It was getting hard to think. In the usual way of dreams, the details faded first. Like frost on the edge of a window pane. Saya was perfectly aware of the fact that, impossibly, she was waking up. Despite it all, she tried to remain asleep just a little longer, holding the image of the Tenno in her mind. The stench of rot and filth, so clear mere moments ago, were suddenly hard to grasp - even as memories. The smells that mingled in her nose were soft, clean linen and the tang of rising vinegar. The lingering pungency of joint liniment. The scent of her husband's skin. Sweet, like wildflower tea.
Saya closed (opened) her eyes.
She was not surprised to find herself lying in bed. A clear beam of sunlight sliced through the shutters and fell across her chest, gleaming with floating motes of dust. The air whispering through the gap in the window smelled sweet and clear. It had rained last night, and the tired Eidolon Moh - weary after the long, dry summer - rejoiced.
"Good morning," said Konzu brightly.
Saya turned her head on the pillow.
Konzu was propped on her elbow next to her, smiling. Saya had no idea what to say to him, so she settled on "The sun is shining."
She had no idea what she meant by that, either.
"Well, you were sleeping so comfortably, I did not want to wake you," Konzu replied. "To be honest, I did not want to get up either. So many people bickering and complaining about how the last batch of wine tasted musty, or someone's kubrow shitting in his neighbor's onions. Ai yo, sometimes I wish we lived in a hut somewhere on the Eidolon Moh!"
"No, you don't," said Saya, softly. It still felt strange to speak.
"I see you slept well. I told you some of that drink would help! Too much vobi cheese you ate, yeah? Just bad dreams."
He kissed her on the forehead, the stiff white bristles on his chin scratching against her skin.
Just bad dreams.
Thanks to the Tenno, and the courage of those who had stood in the rain, that was all they would ever be.
Feeling both like a bystander in her body, and aware of the smallest things with unmatched clarity, even the simple breakfast they shared tasted like the finest banquet. Saya dressed herself in a clean robe, wiped a spot of shaving foam from Konzu's chin with her thumb, and they left the house to take on the day. Koumei's feast day. The clean, damp air smelled like spicy bao, like coils of incense smoke and baskets of flowers offered to Koumei's shrine. She and Konzu shared a sip of temple kuva, the flavor coating their tongue in an odd, almost repulsive mixture of blood and raw honeycomb, and Saya threw the Five Fates. They were old things, those dice. Scrimshaw carved by a wandering Arbiter over two generations ago.
"The Ascension!" Konzu whistled admiringly. "What marvelous luck. Maybe an old shrew like you will finally catch the eye of a good man, eh?"
She elbowed him in the side, blowing the breath from his lungs.
"I hear from Hai-Luk that Mikhal returned to Cetus early this morning," he continued, chuckling. "It is not half a bad as we had feared. The old fool had taken a gourd of kombuchi with him and drank it all in one sitting! Imagine his face when a Tenno came upon him in a puddle of his own piss!"
Saya passed the dice to the next petitioner in line.
"I doubt piss was the only thing he was sitting in," she said distastefully, but secretly, the news was very glad to her.
All around them, Cetus laughed. She caught Nakak's eye as the scrawny girl (honestly, that child needed some meat on her bones!) boldly climbed into Koumei's lap to drape a braided loop of oriza stalks and dragonlillies around the statue's neck. If they shared the memory of that place outside the waking world... some things were best left unspoken. Saya lit a cone of incense and placed it amongst the myriad offerings.
"Lok-heb, surah," she said quietly. "And thank you. From the bottom of my heart."
TRIVIA: this fragment is exactly 8888 words (not counting notes at beginning and end, obviously)