Chapter 143:
Laxus took shelter under the slope of a leaning stone wall as the rain picked up. The scent of brackish water stung his nose as he searched into the gloom around him for the source of Oros's call. Heaped in rotting piles were pulled weeds and cut branches, an effort to fight against the encroaching jungle. A lot of work had been accomplished in the few short weeks he had been gone. Pillars had been erected; partial works were chiseled into their surfaces. Reliefs of gods and their austere expressions stared down on him as he passed. He wondered what Orotrushit had planned for these spaces. It was clear the compound he had been led to was for some sort of nobility, right in the view of the greater temples. The gardens, once properly tended to, would no doubt be beautiful.
Preparation for Father? he wondered, but recalled the mushrooms and mold which bloomed and wilted where he had stepped. Gajeel was right, Orotrushit had another goal besides clearing the way for Father's rule... but what? What exactly did he mean by the dawn of a new age? Was it the same age of blood that Tzopilatl touted? An end to the existence of wizards? He shook the thoughts from his head. Now wasn't the time.
He tried to hear into the world around him, to keep himself open and alert, but aside from the initial call he caught no hint of what he should be looking for. He turned down another street, this one not quite as clear, and looked to the ground for a serpent, a shadow, anything. He was growing agitated. He didn't have time for chasing some hint off into the jungle. He needed to find Orotrushit.
"Oros..." he snarled, "What the hell do you want me here for?"
The rain answered him with spite. In an instant it turned into the kind of rain that made him feel like a stain the gods were viciously trying to wash away. Water sluiced over the wall he was hiding under, soaking him through to the bone. He swore and rushed for the first enclosed shelter he could find: a stairway leading down into dark oblivion. Rain rushed down the steps around his feet, threatening him to slip, until he hit bottom. Rain and brackish water disappeared into a metal grate at the base of the stairs, leaving the rest of the tunnel delightfully dry.
Laxus scowled at the waterfall his exit had become and cursed for good measure.
He was in a narrow tunnel, nearly claustrophobic in closeness to his shoulders. He rang the water out of his shirt as he walked deeper in, unable to leave the way he had come. He assumed the tunnels must be interconnected, like a vast warren beneath the temples. How else would an entire society survive down here unnoticed for hundreds of years? Surely, if he walked long enough, he'd come across someone who would finally get him where he wanted to go.
Internally, he kicked himself for rushing off as he had. If he'd stayed, maybe Ramou could have told him about this sight that he supposedly had which would allow him to find Orotrushit on his own. Instead, he'd been reckless. Without magic or even a knife, he had nothing to protect himself. He didn't keep a lighter, and so he had nothing to light his way. If Gajeel were here, he'd be beside himself.
As the stygian murk became complete around him, he ran his hand down the tunnel wall, trying to remember the things Gajeel had said to him once, a long time ago, about how his senses were superior than others and how he could functionally use them to see. He settled his nerves and turned his back to his only source of light.
He delved into an overwhelming reek of darkness, a raw mineral smell that held presence and life. The damp and cool of a cave, and the chill of it effused into his marrow where he'd been soaked by the rain. Laxus shivered as he considered the sound of bats overhead, ducking so as to not brush anything. With one arm out in front of him, he felt the humid breeze which rushed behind him, bringing with it the scent of the rain. He could hear water moving somewhere out of sight, a trickle into a larger pond, and its echoes somewhere up ahead of him.
As he walked, he was struck by how utilitarian the tunnel he was in seemed. The walls weren't worn from time or slick from groundwater. They were chiseled and lacking any adornments that he was used to seeing in the temples, on the many crumbling walls of structures in the jungle. A back entrance of some sort, to something functional. This wasn't a place commonfolk were meant to see, evocative of the gods. What was more, he was on a slight decline, going downwards. He wished he could better determine direction, knowing he was wandering somewhat in the direction of the temples when he'd taken cover, but not completely sure as to which one or how far away he could be. For not the first time, he considered turning around.
A sound caught his attention, quiet and innocuous. Something moved around him. A wide, cool belly slid lazily against stone. His eyes began to pick out a shape in the darkness far away, something like the fuzzied ghost of light drifting into view. It was so dim that at first, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. As he approached, he realized it was a bend, no, a fork in the tunnel. What he was approaching was carved, though it was difficult to tell with what. Relief made him let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd held so jealously, and he picked up his pace as he rounded the corner and found himself blinking into gentle, effusive light, like the forest alight with the full moon even though it was obscured by trees.
He was looking down into a sunken cavern. Walls unfurled like a dreamscape, looming high above him and etched with carvings that seemed to shift just as his eyes focused on them. The air was strangely thick, the weighted scent of damp stone, earth, and something unseen. A labyrinth, alight in a way he couldn't grasp, only enough that shadows jittered in his periphery. As he approached the yawning entrance, he thought he caught motion disappearing around the bend. A shadow peeked at him and vanished. The entire place breathed expectantly. He knew innately that something was waiting for him to come inside. He felt, too, that it was something he needed to follow.
He steadied his resolve and stepped beyond the threshold. True to his previous compulsion, he let his fingers rest against the wall, trailing along the textured stone. It was warm and silken to the touch. It felt alive around him, waiting patiently for him to walk its depths. He turned the bend and took in the fork before him, considering the path and what would make sense. Far away, a faint hum drew his attention towards the heart. A vibration trembled lowly, pulling at him. He turned down the path heading deeper.
Occasionally, he would hear the sound of movement, but each time he looked for the source he came up empty. The tink-tink of delicate metal bangles rapped against each other like tiny bells. A deep hiss, a blissful sigh. They would draw him around a corner to another empty corridor. The symbols on the wall made him dizzy if he looked too closely. His eye throbbed if he tried to concentrate. He picked out patterns of dark spots he recognized but because of size and the dull of color in the dark, he couldn't interpret what it belonged to. Some sort of animal.
The deeper he delved, the more he felt a tug down at the bottom of his heart, his soul, and a crushing loneliness. A hollow feeling opened in his chest, pressing against his ribcage. Unsatisfied longing, like the day his intentions had been first revealed to Gajeel and he'd faced his rage and rejection. The sweet rose scent of a forbidden rendezvous. The ache of taking solace in a body you weren't supposed to and leaving in the twilight morning, embraced by a cold, moonless night. There was something he wanted that hadn't been addressed, and it was circling his chest like a vice, crowding closer. It was harder and harder to breathe...
He stumbled and fell against the wall, letting it hold him aloft. It was warm and forgiving, moving and not moving as he leaned heavily against it. When had the air become so stale? He heard whispering in the corner like a wave spilling secrets against the shore. Shadows flowed like water over the ground, disappearing around another bend. He was going to suffocate down here. He couldn't catch his breath. His thoughts were muddled and he closed his eyes against lightheadedness. The world pitched, and the next thing he knew, he was on the ground looking blearily up at a stone ceiling that spun.
He heard the sound of a woman's curious hum. A figure whose eyes glittered at him came into his line of sight, breaking the spinning around him. A beautiful face smiled monstrously at him, leaning towards him as her hair lengthened and turned black as midnight. She spoke something to him and looked deeper into the labyrinth. Laxus followed her gaze and saw the wall that had been there was now gone. Somehow, he knew she'd moved it for him. She was impressed by him, by something he represented to someone else. It was all beyond his grasp to contextualize it, holding the knowledge like grasping at fabric in pitch blackness. Texture, scent, sound; all of it undefined without sight.
He pushed himself shakily back to his feet. The woman smiled sweetly with the mouth of a snake. He glanced behind him and saw the body of an anaconda disappearing around the bend. Confused, he mumbled his thanks to her and stumbled towards this new direction. The way opened just as black spots crowded his vision and he fell to his knees gasping for breath. Now, free from whatever had just happened, he realized how much his chest ached.
He looked behind him and saw three women all staring at him and smiling, casting knowing glances at each other. The twisted lengths of snakes coiled over and over each other, massive man-eating things. The women who had been sheltered beneath the willow slithered back as the wall before him moved with sinuous strength and grace. In horror, he fell back and scooted away from the wall of muscle and scales slipping past him silently. The sound of something moving against the ground was the labyrinth, and the labyrinth was a massive snake's coil.
His throat was dry. Panic curled at his brainstem. The sound of his rapid breathing punctured the world around him. Ramou had called them Lamia. He'd walked unwittingly into their labyrinth and they'd just… let him leave?
How in the hell was he alive? Was Oros just fucking with him at this point, or was he meant to gain something from that experience?
He was too tired to be angry about it. Too confused to know what to do next. After a few minutes of sitting on the ground, he realized that silence had returned again. A more natural kind. The silence of being alone in a dark chamber underground.
With a wince and a complaint from his limbs, Laxus stood. He realigned his thoughts, dredging up his determination. He turned to look for his next direction and immediately stopped short again.
He was at the base of a pyramidal structure carved into the rockface before him, similar to the ones he had seen when his chameleon guide had led him up from the Underground. He didn't remember seeing it when he was on the other side, only a blank, unbroken wall. But of course, that couldn't be right because it was certainly here now. The stone was dark, not the vibrant white limestone he was accustomed to seeing. He couldn't tell what it was, but it was banded with sediment that glittered like granite. Pillars framed a doorway covered in motifs and silver symbols. He glanced to one side and then the other, and seeing no apparent other way, he walked up the massive steps.
Inside the entry, he caught the faint smell of incense. From silver lanterns, he watched flickering black flames dance, producing a light that was somehow there and yet not. His shadow danced against the darkness wildly, and he immediately had the dreadful and overbearing sense that he was being watched. The darkness was a thick, waiting thing, observing him in quiet contemplation.
He ran his eyes down the walls of tapestries, wrinkling his nose as he tried to parse together meaning from them. Eight of them, each with a phase of the moon lined the walls, and a picture of an animal beneath it, the background the silhouette of a woman. Each phase was parallel in the chamber to its opposite. A silver fox danced below a waxing crescent and a woman watched over it, her face covered by the face of the moon; a moth of translucent grey opened its wings below the guiding hands of a woman with a face of the waning crescent. A panther stalked before a woman clad in armor, her crescent-shaped blade disappearing into the first quarter moon; a scorpion with death's skull on its back stood poised to strike before an imposing woman with wild hair streaked in silver, an aged face hidden by the last quarter moon. A delicate spider weaved a web which turned into the pale robes of a woman with hair in dark waves, face turned upward into the waxing gibbous; an aged raven stared knowingly before a crone sage whose dark indigo dress merged with the shadows around her – the waning gibbous moon. Finally, and most resplendently, a tapestry of the full moon, a queen above the others towered behind a white lioness. Her robes shimmered with layers of silver and white, her skin a luminous polished ivory bearing the subtle markings of motherhood. The moon's rays shot outward to form a gleaming, white crown and she held a staff in her hand.
Laxus stopped and stared at the tapestry opposite her, what undoubtably was to be the new moon. It was as if someone had taken a wire brush coated in dark color to the intricately woven pattern, marring the face of it. He reached forward and brushed his thumb against it, wrinkling his nose as something once a paste and now dried came off onto it. Charcoal? He frowned, looking back down the entrance to each well-kept tapestry. Why had this one been destroyed while all the others were still in good condition? He could barely make out a form in dark robes, the odd shape of the animal beneath her. He couldn't tell what it was.
With a bit of an uneasy feeling turning his stomach, he stepped into the outer chamber. There was an air of mystery about the place. Though this place wasn't as well kept as the pyramids, it was clear someone had been tending to it. Stone statues of women in graceful poses were maintained, though faceless. An ancient loom sat in the corner, and on the opposite side, a sanctuary with an old, cracked bow hanging above the altar. There were carvings of the panther hunting a small deer, its colors faded but still easily discernable.
The hall beyond it seemed to have been made to the waning and the waxing crescents. In an alcove was a reflection pool. Soft moss and what remained of lilies floated along the surface. He scented jasmine, and the serene statue of a fox sat at the foot of a woman kneeling as if she were gazing into the water, searching for something. On the opposite side, closer to another doorway, was another alcove etched with the symbols of stars and moons. The statue here stood motioning deeper into the temple, her lips covered by the moth depicted on her tapestry, the only feature on her face that could be discerned. There were rolled parchments spilling from her bag, looking real enough that Laxus felt the urge to touch them just to be sure it was truly carving, though he refrained. He followed her guiding hand deeper.
This was another small chamber, the grandest of doorways to the farthest side of it. Here was a library of books, in the corner a chair carved with a faded cloth draped over it. The crone had no depiction, but he could tell this place was supposed to harken to wisdom. The other depiction, the last quarter, had no altar but only a large gong next to her statue. At her side was a staff, its end sharp and uncompromising as a blade. In her other, she held scales of judgement.
He thought he'd know what to expect as he stepped into the main hall, but froze there just a few steps inside. It was circular, grand, and his footsteps echoed around him, disappearing in to the massive domed ceiling above. The full moon, the apex of the lunar cycle, was painted with once-vibrant murals of her at her fullest. She sat upon a throne and all the others sat beside her, their heads lower than hers, all except her new moon opposite whose form was blackened even on the beautifully painted ceiling, a dark mar that shattered the holy image. At the center of the room, a raised dais held a massive stone altar, a circle, with inlays of silver which traced the phases of the moon. Small stones, feathers, old silver coins, and other small trinkets were left here. Surrounding him were eight towering statues of the Moon Goddess and her various forms, each taller than the last until the Queen Mother. Directly to her right, the new moon's statue had been destroyed and blackened, leaving only her feet and ankles behind.
Silver bangles tinkled behind him.
Every hair on Laxus's body raised. His heart leapt into his throat. The veiled woman in black was standing beside him. He looked at her only from the corner of his eye, catching sight of her pale hand beneath her shroud. Her fingers were decorated with rings, her nails honed to wicked, black points. He hadn't heard her come into the chamber. He was still so close to the entrance, and the granite floors, walls, and ceiling bounced noise around so loudly that he knew there was no way she could have approached without his notice.
That hollow place inside of him yawned with her closeness. Something in his stomach swooped, a foreboding anticipation, or lust, he couldn't tell. She wasn't human, that he knew, but he didn't know enough about Lamia to tell if she was one.
A thought occurred to him that he almost dismissed. Keeping an eye trained to her unmoving form, he concentrated on the Virale inside of him with the intent to open it and gaze into her.
There was nothing. She was nothing. Worse than nothing, she was absence incarnate, a black hole that immediately began to drag him in. Witnessing Tzopilatl had been like drifting on a boat out into a desolate sea of sand. The feeling he derived from this woman was far more intense than that. His entire body leeched with cold, quiet oblivion. Like a tidal wave it washed over him, drowning him in void that shocked the breath from his lungs.
His hands began to tremble, a response his body had that he barely understood to be fear. Orotrushit had once opened his eye and it felt like Laxus was being peered into, his sins drawn out into the light. It was so dreadfully similar, but also different. She knew every secret, fear, and dark desire he'd ever had. It wasn't judgement that he feared. She didn't drag it into the light so much as stood there in the darkness with it. The Knowing, how inescapable her presence was, made him want to curl into a ball on the ground. He felt empty, defenseless, and at the same time his chest swelled with the tantalizing thrill of being exposed. It was horrible. It was seductive. It was her.
"I have not been here in so long," she said. He heard her voice not just from his side, but also in his mind. It was loud inside of him, filling the empty vacuum she caused, but also the barest of hoarse whispers. She sounded as if she'd cried out her voice, "Such desecration weighs heavily."
She moved in silken silence, gliding past him as if her feet didn't touch the ground. He heard the echo of snakes shifting. She was powerful in an intimidating way, more so even than Orotrushit, and Laxus was without anything to guard himself.
Is she an avatar?
Logically, that would make sense. Dimisia was that for Dihasis, Davian for Oros, Madame Guéneva for Tzopilatl. Her effects were similar to theirs, but far more intense. Perhaps the lamia would need an avatar for the goddess of the Moon, and the Moon being much stronger would have a stronger effect? But Celeste was a High Priestess to the Moon, and he hadn't felt this way towards her.
Priestesses and avatars are different.
He glanced down at the ring Ramou had given him.
"You've been following me," Laxus said.
"I have. My daughters called to me and I came."
She made a wide arc around the altar. Distance made the overbearing cold ebb, and he felt he could better concentrate. When he looked at her, she was a woman, she was an anaconda, she was dark void.
This woman could kill him with very little effort. That didn't scare him but he needed to be cautious. He held onto his resolve, struggled to wrest control back over his breathing.
"I… don't know your daughters."
"No." she replied.
Her arms shifted beneath the shroud and she procured something from her person. She sat it down on the ground and glided silently back from it, turning her head to watch him expectantly. He frowned and approached, confused at what he was looking at. A lump of some kind of glittering rock, and then when he saw it more clearly, he realized what it was. An iron rose.
"He leaves them for me," she whispered, a soft smile playing on her lips, "He used to visit often. He doesn't visit anymore."
Laxus held the iron rose in his hands, not sure what to do, what to say. His mind began to spiral.
Gajeel visited her? When? Why? Could he ask her? But Davian was terrified of these sorts of things, and for good reason. If she was an avatar, and if she was like Orotrushit, could she read his mind? Was there a consequence to that? Were there consequences to simply asking questions? Just how easy would it be to find himself caught in some trap?
Anger threaded into his worry.
He'd never been particularly good with politics. It was one of the many reasons why he'd hated the circles his grandfather so desperately tried to get him involved with when he was in school and socializing with the elite. And what made this situation exponentially worse was the fact that he didn't know these games well at all. He only knew the few interactions he'd had with Davian there to aid him. Even Orotrushit had made it clear during their interactions before the solar eclipse that he was being generous in what he allowed Laxus to get away with. Where was that line here with this woman?
"I mean you no ill will," she said gently, coaxing immediately a foreign feeling of relief, of understanding, of sympathy. He didn't trust it, but he could play along.
She was standing before the desecrated statue, her eyes tracing it mournfully. He walked slowly around the altar, eyeing the symbols for each of the moon's phases. He needed a safe question to get her talking. Perhaps then he could work around having to speak more.
"Do you worship the Moon?" he asked.
"The Queen Mother?" she asked, her voice a hiss up the back of his skull, "Or her sisters?"
"The new moon," he said, motioning towards where the statue no longer was. He couldn't see her expression, but her tone was rueful.
"No."
He gritted his teeth when she allowed the silence to fester.
"Is she evil?"
"Some say as much."
Laxus chanced a look at her, "You don't sound as if you agree."
"No," she said, drew her fingers against her lips. Her bangles clinked musically, "She was naive and in love. A young goddess who hadn't yet realized the deceptive nature of mankind."
Laxus chewed on that and on what he would say next. He was a wizard, and people around here seemed to be able to tell at a glance. Perhaps he should lean on ignorance. It would make him appear less of a threat, at the very least. And he was a large man. People tended to assume large men were also quite stupid, and a little gullable.
"Forgive me, I don't know much about gods," Laxus said, "But I was told she is a primordial goddess."
If she thought he was up to something, she showed no evidence of it.
"The Queen Mother is. She is pure. Like the other primordial gods, she is untarnished for what she represents. She is wise, benevolent, confident, a ruler and a caretaker. She is a guardian of families, of queens, and the unwatering strength of mothers… but she is perfect. Perfection is beyond the grasp of mortals."
Laxus had known enough wizards drunk on their own power and authority to understand what she meant, "Purity sounds good, but ultimate good is just as destructive as ultimate evil."
"Her demand for perfection destroys those that cannot live up to her standards," her gaze was distant. She looked as if she were remembering something. Not a story or some religious tenant. She looked as if peering into a memory, "A mother wants to nurture her children. She had to find a way to bridge the gaps her perfection created. The goddess shattered herself, a piece of her broken for each of her faces, and in each piece she consumed a goddess made by mortals. She is the Eight-In-One. They are Her just as much as they are seperate."
Laxus frowned, trying to remember everything he could about what Davian had taught him, "Avatars bridge the gap between us and the gods. Why not simply choose an avatar?"
"An avatar is but one tool of the divine. The more powerful the god, the harder it is for mortals to stand," she said solemnly, "Even Niotl, Goddess of Love and Hatred, drives her chosen to obsession and madness because they cannot stand the intensity of her presence. She cannot understand the mortal need for balance and rest. Even the Oceloken have the mortal desire to temper emotions; a weakness in the eyes of she who embraces the purity of passion.
"There are a rare few who can withstand the influence of the primordial gods. By dividing her strength into these other goddesses, allowing herself to be shaped by them, The Queen Mother can speread her influence wide without fear of driving her followers mad. Those gods made by mortals better understand their fears. She can touch a great many more this way."
"Dihasis drives her followers mad." Laxus said slowly.
"But she also offers clarity and guidance. She satisfies the mortal longing for understanding and direction in times of uncertainty," she said, gazing at him with knowing, "She did not drive you mad, did she?"
Laxus swallowed under her gaze, a sudden swelling of that feeling making it hard to breathe again, "So the gods made by mortals are just as bad as the primordial gods, they just have a conscious about it?"
"They offer perspective. They offer grace."
He found himself drifting closer towards her. He followed her gaze upwards to the ceiling to the marked-out visage of the goddess of the new moon.
"What happened to her?"
"She was the keeper of the unknown and hidden knowledge. She devoured secrets," again that regret, that sorrow swelled, "She fell in love with a mortal who understood her. She understood the untold potential hidden within darkness. The goddess did not consider that a mortal could deceive her."
"If she was a goddess of secrets, how could she not know?" Laxus asked. "I would suspect that would come naturally."
An emotion crossed her face. Shadowed by her shroud, it was difficult to read, but it almost appeared to be anger. At him or at the memory, he wasn't sure.
"A charm gifted by a high priest with his own ambitions. It was a betrayal of complexity," her tone took on a wicked edge, "What a fool she was to trust the words of a wizard, and so soon after Dhaseyar had given the power to kill the gods to his children that he so beloved. His brother warned him against this, but their feud is longstanding. Dhaseyar would not see his children tempered. Even the dragons saw his folly and tried to dissuade him. He couldn't be swayed."
The image that came to Laxus's mind was so vivid, he could have reached out and touched it. A woman stood on top of a great stone structure; her eyes cast towards the east where the shoulders of mountains pressed against the heavens. Dark magic danced around her ankles, her hips, her wrists, as the first rays of the sun's light spilled over the steeps. A man sat on a golden throne, his form shifting into dark shapes of swirling energy, dancing like a mirage through the heat of a fire. His eyes glowed with black light, his face changing between human and reptilian. Long, draconic horns curled back from his head and his fingers were tipped with talons. When he moved, reality was torn asunder. He stood from the throne and the light of the sun coalesced in his chest, behind his teeth. The sunrise bled with scarlet. The woman charged. Her knife, girded in black magic, plunged into his chest and they both fell from the skies. A god's pristine body was overtaken by chalky grey mushrooms, eating it away until only crimson bones and black slime remained. Crimson bones and two golden spheres.
"For giving the wizard the tool that led to the death of the sun, the goddess was cast down from heaven," she sighed. In the distance, Laxus heard the echoes of a woman's broken sobs. A blood-curdling wail of grief bounced in the corners of his mind, "In disgrace, she is banned from the heavens. But the gods cannot walk the earth, for that is the pact that was made. Instead, she is confined to those places on the edges of this world and the next. Where death and life mingle so closely together, they form the same tapestry."
She was gazing at him again, her piercing eyes somehow reaching him through the shroud over her face. He felt his chest struggling to expand, vaguely aware somewhere in the animal part of his brain that he was suffocating. A great snake was twisting around him, drawing him closer. She was growing larger somehow, but his mind couldn't comprehend it. The fabric of her shourd rippled and she was towering above him as her prescence flooded the space as if he had attempted to look upon her again. He could see the threads of her garment, how they shimmered in the dim light. Dark gossamer broken by silver thread. He forced himself to look at the ground, struggled in a gasp.
"You're... her..."
"I am The Veil."
He was suddenly surrounded by snake's coils. They filled the room, shifting in quiet hisses against the ground, almost touching him. His mind reeled. Why he had been led here by the Lamia suddenly made a lot more sense. What for still escaped him, however, and that knowledge grew more and more daunting as each breath he struggled in became more and more difficult to draw in.
She leaned down towards him. She regarded him much in the same way a predator might watch a wounded animal limp in its path, neither hungry nor merciful.
"In all my years doomed to this earth, I have encountered none such as you before, a novelty from before the wars that decimated our followers… and even then, never had they been alive," she sighed, her voice dancing along the line of amusement and contempt, "They did say that you were a rarity, but I had long given up hope. Still, you are unspeakably crude."
Laxus couldn't breathe. He refused to fall to his knees, though, instead stumbling back against the moving body of scales. It was all muscle, growing larger and wider as her veil cascaded like a waterfall of night. Her head nearly brushed the top of the dome. Her eyes glittered with pitch-black nothing as she looked down on him.
A goddess. She is a goddess.
"Long has it been since a man was worthy enough to attain my attention." A lurid smile curled at the corner of her lip as she sized him up with a distant, predatory curiosity, "Listen, wizard, and listen well. I have an offer you cannot refuse."
Laxus tried to draw on Virale, to focus on it and perhaps make an attempt to protect himself, but his ribcage felt like it was being crushed. He could feel her gaze like knives stabbed into his brain stem. His body was reacting strangely. He didn't welcome it but couldn't see past it, because when he tried, he again was aware of the constrictor slowly crushing him. Struggling through his mounting dread was the desire for carnality. Urges that warred with his pain rose to the surface of his mind; unsatisfied longings, pursuit of pleasure, ambition and pursuit of power, passion in secrecy. It was as clear and visceral as if she had set him alight with her touch.
She had leaned nearer. Her veil trembled because she was so close to him, his breath pressed against it. He tried to focus, but everything was quite suddenly extremely loud. His breathing, her coils against the pavestones, items being knocked from their perches to the ground, the low hissing of snakes...
"I am in need of a divine weapon."
"A weapon?" Laxus replied woozily. The word evoked lightning splitting the heavens, a fight before an altar, the world shaking, and bloodshed. Laxus had no desire to be a weapon, dreaded even holding a knife. He was no child of war, as Father so kindly pointed out to him.
"A warrior comes in many forms," she whispered, "and they call upon their gods for their guidance and their grace and even their courage."
Laxus curled his fingers into his palms and felt a burning begin on his finger. The pain brought with it just the smallest bit of clarity. Tzopilatl's proposal had been much like this. He remembered the god proffering him near ultimate power in exchange for murder. The offer to be made an avatar of a vengeful god of the desert. How was this any different?
"I would not posses you, I would only enhance you. Your power will be your own, and you would embrace my call. I would not force your hand, nor ask you to break your own moral code," she continued on, but the look about her was far from benevolent, "You would work wonders in my name only. Fear me. Worship me. And when mortals shake in terror of the power you wield, it would be for me. You would guide those that don't believe to my temple, and your name would be known far and wide…"
"Why would that…?" his mind was so foggy, he couldn't think straight. Again, he tried and failed to call upon his own power. It was as if she had snuffed out his light or dampened it. "Why would I do something like that?"
Her lips curved into a knowing smile. New images appeared. He saw Gajeel as clear as if he were standing there with him. Then he saw him on the altar and a dark shadow looming over him. The glint of a golden knife.
A sinister thought slipped to the surface. Gajeel was his and this would-be god was trying to steal him away. But with the power of the goddess to aid him, guiding his knife when he did finally take Father's life, how could he ever fail?
Again, that radiating pain in his hand, like a brand pressing against him. The gods had politics and they were capricious. Charity was not to be assumed. The gods only answered if a price was paid, and Laxus knew how steep those prices could be.
"You want me to… what? Lead people to you?" Laxus asked, feeling as if he were falling. Falling and being held aloft by something large and scaled and coiling beneath him, around him, "That's not all you want. It's not that simple."
"I want only for you to succeed."
Her breath fell across his face. She spoke with the sultry sweetness of whispered secrets which lingered in the air like a forbidden scent. Somehow, he was beneath the shroud. It suddenly occured to him why it was there in the first place. Her face had been obscured and so gazing upon her was as simple as gazing upon the face of another mortal. Now that he could look on her face, he saw now that her beauty was like the sultry glow of dusk which teeters between night and day; one fleeting moment of perfect, dangerous calm. It burned his eyes to look at her and with nowhere else to look, he was forced to close them as tears streaked down his face from the pain. The coils tightened around him.
"The beast which impedes you is a cataclysm, and the hour of its reconning is near. Time is short for you to save the man you love and stop what is coming."
"What's coming?" Laxus snarled, digging his palms into his eyes to stem the pain.
"The end of the world," she said.
Her touch brushed his face, cool as moonlight and blistering with unspoken want. Laxus grabbed hold of her wrist and gritted his teeth to cold that bit his skin bitterly.
He saw the Temple of the Sun. Green light surged and seeped through the cracks of the stone, sifting through the air like an explosion of the Northern Lights straight from the pyramid. A great black creature rose around it, throwing its head back and screaming. Its claws were covered in golden ichor, its teeth dripping with divine blood. It took flight with an open mouth and snapped the sun from the sky. The world fell into permanent night.
The ground opened and hordes of shades crawled from the gaping crevasse. Like a flood they rushed through the forest, tearing apart any living thing they came across. Men were torn limb from limb, spilling blood over the ground. Womn ran and were overtaken, dragged to the ground. He heard wails of agony as teeth sank into flesh. Children were ripped from mothers' arms and eaten alive, screaming.
Freed and Evergreen appeared in his vision, fighting the hoard to no avail. Attacks phased through them as if they were smoke. He watched as one of the shades sank teeth into Freed's leg, dragging him to the ground as more fell on him. Evergreen was screaming for Bickslow to retreat, but what was left of him was scattered across the ground in bleeding chunks. Mirajane was urging Elfman and Lisanna to run, to find shelter somewhere, anywhere, as claws began ripping her limb from limb. Satan Soul's beautiful wings were shorn and pulled from her shoulders. The shades couldn't be stopped, and each time they devoured another of his friends, their own spirits screamed and rose, joining the throng.
Laxus was subjected to the vision of Gildarts falling at his grandfather's feet, his grandfather who could do nothing at he watched his children, his guild, and everything he loved be destroyed. When the first of those tortured shades reached him, Laxus thrashed to be free of her hold.
"Stop it!" he yelled, pulling her hands from him but finding his feet were no longer on the ground. The dark veil cascaded around him and he was on a bed of moving, writhing coils as thick as a man.
"It will devour everything beneath Its gaze…"
Father was sitting atop a golden throne. His eyes glowed gold and wherever he looked, the screaming specters broke from the ground to do His bidding, and He saw all, because He was the Sun, and He claimed everything His light touched, and the Underworld, and all in between. When He was done devouring Earthland to the sounds of agonized screams and ripping flesh, He turned His gaze upwards, towards the heavens.
Gajeel was laying on an altar, his chest ripped open and bleeding. He wasn't just lifeless; the light had been stolen from him. His heart was gone and it had been devoured by a God of Decay and Destruction-
"Stop!" Laxus screamed. "I don't want to see any more!"
"I can help you stop it," she whispered into the vacancies in his chest, pulling up images of himself summoning lightning. It was blackened with void, it was powerful, "See all that you could accomplish with me guiding your hand?"
The void consumed him, leaving only darkness within the boundaries of his body. In it welled up every aspiration he'd ever had, even ones he had never given voice to. Saving Gajeel, of course, but even beyond that. Stopping Father from whatever his plan was for Davian, for Earthland. And then, there were things he had told himself he didn't desire any longer, like surpassing his Grandfather, proving to his dad he could be great without the lacrima he'd forced on him as a child, becoming Fairy Tail's guildmaster, a Wizard Saint. And then, another desire, from somewhere buried so deep inside he hardly knew it was there: finding Jose Porla, wherever he was, and making him pay for the pain he'd caused Gajeel for so many years…
Laxus's hand was burning.
"That's not-…" he gasped, fighting not to be drowned, "That's not what I want!"
"You cannot lie to me. Not about this. You want to have the power to bow others to your command. There is no denying it…"
The feeling of being in Heat prickled beneath his skin. Churning there deep down beneath the surface were those thoughts he had dismissed. He wanted to bare down his storm ruthlessly. He had placed his power in Gajeel's chest to manipulate as he chose, to force his will on his love, and Gajeel had told him to command him. "Power only ever corrupted me anyway…"
He could do it to anyone. He knew how, now. The weak would bow down to him.
"I want… power…" Laxus said, his mind spinning, "I want to stop Father."
"Let me help you."
The goddess's words coiled around his mind like silk, luring him deeper into her web with every breath. Her hands curled over his shoulders, lithe and powerful at once. He had no choice but to look at her, but the burning in his eyes was easing because she allowed it. She wanted him to witness her and all her temptation and treachery like sweetness that would linger on lips at their last breath. The kind of beauty that lived in the spaces between stars. She was mesmerizing despite how aware Laxus was that he was being ensnared.
Was it because she was the goddess of Lamia, or because of her nature that he felt this way towards her? Did it matter? Either way, she was manipulating him. Promising him power, promising Gajeel's salvation, showing him the horror of his failure, and displaying the choice in black and white. Her offer was good against evil. It wasn't just enticing. Saying no to her wouldn't just mean the end of Gajeel's life, but the end of the world. And he could have everything he'd ever wanted…
The goddess's hair brushed his face. Her eyes traced his form like darkness curling around the frail glow of a candle. She was serene and unsettling, and she was his saving grace. Beyond her, the world ceased to exist.
Except that odd sensation on his knuckles, that Laxus's hand might be burning.
His mind pitched to a time when he was a child, just days after Ivan had infused the lacrima in his eye. Gramps had stayed by his bedside, worried he wouldn't pull through. Porlyusica hadn't been young then, either, but she was twice as severe. At times, she would appear to be fighting tears and then shake her head, muttering about what she would do if Ivan came to see him. He was young. He hadn't understood what was going on or why everyone was so upset. He hadn't understood why his father would have done this.
"Some people crave the renown of power," Gramps had said to him once, bowing to his questions after he'd had one too many of the guild's malt liquors late one night, "They seek the ease but crave the renown."
He had shaken his head sadly, no longer able to look at him.
"No power that is worth having comes easily, my son," he said, taking a sip from his mug, "If it comes easily, it comes with a price. Someone will always pay that price."
He hadn't known at the time he had meant that his father had thrust that price on him, alongside power.
He was older now, and a little wiser.
Laxus's hand was burning, fire searing up his knuckles. It forced him to focus. He opened his eyes and saw the ring Ramou had given him was glowing a cold blue. He was reminded of Dimisa, and of Davian, and even of Orotrushit. One gone mad from her goddess's touch, one terrified of what the gods and his own father could force him to do, and another constrained to his fate, his freedom of choice limited. To make deals with gods was to hold a double-edge blade.
One last time, he reached for Virale.
He found it.
"No."
He shut his eyes and threw her back from him. He was breathless and shaking, but he shored up the power he had between them, clumsily pushing her away. There was so much of her everywhere, all around him, that he couldn't lurch away from her, but that didn't mean he had to look at her.
He didn't like being powerless. He didn't like any of this.
"I said no," he pushed out through gritted teeth, "I… am Laxus Dreyar. I am a Fairy Tail mage! And I don't! Need! Gods!"
His heavy breathing filled the silence. He didn't feel like he was suffocating anymore. As clarity sank in, he began to grow angry, angrier. Lightning slithered across his arms as he pushed more into it, focused on not appearing weak. For the briefest moment, her expression froze. Her eyes narrowed, and Laxus got the distinct feeling she was seeing him for the first time.
"It doesn't make sense, does it? What's in it for you?" his voice grew louder, his heart racing. A feeling rose in him like adrenaline and outrage. His wrist was burning now, his arm, and he was angry, "If you're so powerful, why don't you stop Father yourself? Why not save Gajeel because the Lamia asked? What do you want me for? What's in it for you?"
Her head tilted. The air between them charged, her smoldering allure now tempered by something new and frigid, and resembling intrigued. It was the look of someone reassessing the item that possessed after learning of some new value. Her gaze slithered over him like velvet shadow, the darkness in her eyes glittering with starstuff. A smile played about her lips. She reached down to him, her slim fingers brushing down his jaw. The tenderness made him shiver.
"Did I not say already I wouldn't take your ability to choose?" she asked, breathy and seductive. The warmth of her body, the sweet scent of her breath, filled his senses. She was soft and supple, and again calling to those more lecherous parts of himself that refused to listen to him, "I am not a goddess who steals men's will. Your body, however, your heart…"
Laxus swallowed. Alarms began ringing in his mind. His body reacted exactly how she wished for it to, and her response was to smile at him, slow and dangerous. Her words were binding, and laced with all temptations that only the foolish would resist – and the wise should fear.
"I am the Goddess of Lamia…" she said, "…all I ask is that you worship me, adore me, in every way I demand."
For a split second, his brain stopped. He couldn't think of anything else aside from the fact a goddess had him pinned against her coils, that she was smiling at him coyly, and offering him all the power in the world if he'd simply sleep with her. And in the next second, his stomach had bunched up, crowding against his diaphragm.
"I… I can't." Laxus said, speaking before he had much of a plan to go with it. She was a goddess. A goddess of secrets. He couldn't very well lie. But what the hell was he supposed to say?
She blinked slowly at him, looking like a sated predator on his chest, waiting expectantly.
"I… Gajeel, is… he's the entire reason I'm…"
Oh, Laxus was bad with politics. What could he possibly say to convinse a goddess to accept rejection? And presumably without getting himself smited for the offense? His mind spun and he latched on to the only thing that shifted to the surface of his muddled brain.
"You've been in love before. You said so yourself. Would you have betrayed her?"
She blinked again. Her glittering eyes had widened ever slightly with something close enough to surprise that Laxus felt hopeful. Her composure faltered, and he latched on.
"I can't betray him."
She rose up. The world was black past her, shrouded by her veil.
"You betray him by letting him die," she stated. She stated it like fact. Like the sky is blue, and the grass is green. You betray him by letting him die.
Laxus set his jaw. He narrowed his eyes, and pulled power from his well deep inside. He was beginning to understand why Davian was so terrified by gods. But he wasn't a man to be bullied. He couldn't control Virale well, but he was getting better. Yellow raced down his forearms. She snapped her hands back from him, pitch black eyes sharpened like blades.
"I won't betray him. And I won't let him die, either," Laxus snarled, glaring at her for good measure, "Thank you for your offer, but I don't need gods."
Her head listed to the side, like a cat considering an interesting little bird. There was a fleeting look of astonishment. The cold fingers of the void began to recede. Her coils shifted and rolled beneath him, parting so his feet were once more on the floor. Laxus staggered as a sound like a rush of wind whisked through the hall. He flinched, and when he opened his eyes, she was a woman again, hidden behind a veil. Her head was still tilted. Beneath the chrystal-encrusted fabric, her eyes danced.
She turned her head slowly, once again facing what remained of her statue.
"I was in love once. I abandoned to her fate when she betrayed me, but…" she whispered, the sound carrying through the interstices of atmosphere like a low hum, "…I loved her."
"So then… you understand." Laxus said, cautiously.
She was silent for a long moment, so long Laxus thought perhaps he should just leave her there. Then, she decided something. The black lanterns flared with new life, growing bolder as power flexed and filled the air with a dizzying amount of pressure. Laxus hadn't braced, but in the end, he didn't need to. The goddess was once again suddenly massive and her hands held both of his arms as if he we a child. He grunted at the burning of his eyes when he looked upon her, forced to shut them.
She chuckled darkly and it was filled with the sound of hissing serpents.
"I shall give you a gift, wizard. Don't waste it."
His entire body locked because she kissed him.
It was a kiss that burned his lips.
And then it burned his mouth.
And then his throat,
his chest,
flushing fire through his limbs.
He thrashed. He choked. He clawed at his throat, at his chest, lurching into the ground to escape it. But it was inside of him.
And Laxus burned.