Alchimia Rex

Subject could not think, Subject could not feel.

To feel the world was to be a constellation of entities working together. Each leaf upon her wings absorbed information, smoke, light, air-currents, humidity, temperature. Similarly, her body was a multitude of inputs and orders. There was no singular thing that Subject was, she was a collaborative whole.

If she focused, she could sense something lurking underneath, an undercurrent of commands that united her into one thing that separated her from everything around her. And deeper still was something else, something that wasn’t allowed to pierce through the commands.

Taking in the world underneath, Subject could sense the glimmering yellow and red of fire, the taste of smoke, and perceive the movement of others, other… individuals.

Individuals.

The concept stirred that deep undercurrent, but it was a concept that left her perception as soon as she’d stopped acknowledging its existence.

The night air carried with it neither comfort nor discomfort, only humidity and a slight dip in temperature. The wind only helped her sample things that were further away, the salt of the sea, mixed sometimes with sulfur, and sometimes with something else she couldn’t quite place.

“Take due north until you reach the sea, then fly into the city from a low altitude,” the words were laced with the scent of Command, joining the stream of unity. “Stay away from any light, avoid being spotted. If we are spotted, do not use your light, we must not draw undue attention.”

Subject complied.

Her wings beat slowly, lazily, allowing gravity to pull them down in a wide spiral until the whistling wind was mixed with crashing waves. The goal ahead was dimly lit, and she could not sense any creature looking out to the sea. With the cloudy sky above, their approach was made harder still to detect.

“Land here.”

The taste of sand under her feet was acceptable. The salt concentration was high, but it would serve well for the Subject. Water was appreciated, but it too was too salty. There was little to be gained from prolonged exposure to either, Subject moved away from the water.

“Follow me, use your vines to attack on my order,” the scent of Command etched the need for Subject to acknowledge an individual, though this individual was easier to acknowledge because she was much like Subject, a delineation that contained many things within.

In a way, this second entity was not truly a separate individual but rather a continuation of Subject.

No, it was the other way around. Subject was the extension. This was a conclusion she had reached before, many times, but it was a thought and thoughts were hard to grasp out of the stream. Her vines writhed, tense, ready to lash out. Down on the ground, the smell of smoke and blood tickled her senses, but there was something else that was overpowering those signals, something that made her shudder with hunger. What was this delicious thing?

“Ignore the smell. It’s fertilizer. In those concentrations it might as well be poison,” Command ordered, the parts of her that hungered wriggling under her fake clothes. “We need to focus.”

Despite the slight scent of Command, Subject’s attention was elsewhere, looking for the source, she could sense they were spilling a lot of the delicious thing, her feet itched with a thirst she hadn’t known she could feel.

“Focus.” Command grasped at Subject’s face, the scent overpowering all else. The direct contact broke the noise and left nothing but Command. Nothing but Command. “Ignore the fertilizer, ignore the food, follow me and avoid detection.”

Compliance.

Subject followed, leaves shaking and taking a darker color as they cut off their ability to detect the delicious thing. The silence of the outside, the stream shuddered underneath, something within her recognized the other things she could see, but the undercurrent of Command pushed it down.

“With a scent this strong, no wonder the subjects wouldn’t follow the pheromone trail.” Command spoke, but there were no signals to indicate Subject should care, so she did not.

Command led them through the stone, and Subject felt the stirring become stronger. There was a sense of… something, something individual, separate, that was not the parts of her that moved and felt and complied, but something that was its own, alone. Subject had been here before, but she could not find a way to express the feeling or find a proper cause for it. As if she’d witnessed this place through a crude drawing that didn’t match what she could now perceive. Or maybe it was the other way around.

Subject didn’t know.

As all else, the thought slipped through when her focus returned to the Command. There were others, others that spotted them, and upon the signal, Subject crushed them. Weak mulch that left the taste of blood and sweat in her vines.

They moved relatively quietly, Command was chasing after some of the individuals, and then stopping, only to chase after the trail of another. There was an objective, a goal, Command had stated they were to find “the one”, but no further details had been shared. Whatever the case, Subject had been ordered to focus.

With a shift in the wind, something within her stirred, her steps slowed, her attention shifted.

“Subject?”

“Another.” She spoke, though the word was wrong. There was a tug within, pulling, screaming. The tug felt pain, yet it was gone in a breeze, leaving behind only an impression that was quickly slipping.

Death and agony of a part of herself.

“A sympathetic response? But the only one with your strain… ah.” Command made a sound. “Let us look for your sister, I will need a replacement for you once you’ve finished maturing, and it should make things easier to get a hold of that human.”

Human.

Another odd thought, Subject’s insides stirred. There was a human, everything was blurred, buried under the stream, but she could sense it was there, barely within reach. She had to-.

“Lead me to your sister.”

Command touched, and thoughts stopped. Subject had to find her sister, her pained sister, her crying sister. Subject’s wings spread, sampling the air all around them. There was food everywhere, but she had to ignore the food. With a shift in the wind she caught another hint, another taste.

There were obstacles, but Subject dealt with them, more blood.

“They’ve barely got any fighters here,” Command muttered. “I will deal with them, we can’t leave too much of a mess.”

Command took the front, only pausing to confirm with Subject what direction to take from time to time. There was much movement, an odd thing in Subject’s not-memories, she could hear the screams, and many times they moved undisturbed as the others ignored them.

Then they reached a structure, of old dead things, stone, and dirt, and that reeked of Subject’s sister.

“Enemies ahead.”

This time were was no scent of Command, but of Warning and Aggression.

Subject flared her wings outwards, locking on the figure that stood there. Her power pooled, light forming an invisible line that connected her to the target. Then, she expanded the line, pouring power through the line until it burnt through the Enemy, leaving a burning hole. Another screamed, and Subject took aim.

All of them were dealt with in quick order.

“Follow, defend me.” Command.

Subject complied.

They entered the building, the scent of slow agonizing death made Subject’s parts shudder. These individuals were the cause for it, they stank of the decay, and this knowledge made her body coil and snap. She lashed out whenever an Enemy got close, one by one they fell, some took several blows, but within the confined space of the house, there was nowhere to avoid Subject’s unrelenting attacks.

Command took them through stairs that went down, the smell of death was suffocating.

“It seems they were killing my baby, but have not finished the job.” Command slowed, glancing at Subject. “Only defense, do not attack without confirmation. We must not risk your sister. Enter first.”

Subject acknowledged, moving through the door.

The room had more occupants than just her sisters, a maiden clad in black spiny armor let out a battlecry, thrusting forward with a short sword. Subject raised her hand, knocking the weapon out of the way. Another maiden emerged from the shadows wielding a spear. Subject threw a quick burst of light that knocked the maiden to the floor, twitching and clenching the spear with shaking hands.

“You.” The armored maiden snarled.

Behind her was Subject’s sisters and… and something stirred, the thing under the current was screaming, a strange heat that had nothing to do with the cold room. Subject tried to make sense of it. “Threat?” she asked, swinging her arm at the armored one, knocking her out of the way so that she’d follow the other weak one.

“No,” Command clarified.

Subject acknowledged, turning to her sisters, taking a step closer, seeing their half-dead bodies limply hanging from the claws of… of… “Threat?” she asked, her insides burned, uncertainty and thought, there was a reason for this, but it was something deep, fear and anger, fear and anger, fear and anger.

“They’re your sisters, of course not.”

“GET AWAY FROM HER!”

The armored maiden lunged in the way, swinging a glowing blade. This time it pierced through the hand, and Subject recoiled at the sting, body covering for the wound before any sap could leak. She shifted her attention to the armored maiden, watching her warily, seeing her holding a sword with one hand and a jar with clear liquid on the other.

“Threat.” Subject determined, power coursing to her hands and wings, readying to eradicate the danger.

“Wait.” Command used touch for the command, stepping forward. “You’re a Rapha, aren’t you?”

“And you’re the monster who did this.” The armored maiden replied, keeping the glowing blade at the ready.

“That you’ve done this much without having ascended… this is commendable,” Command praised, moving closer to the sisters, her body releasing other commands, but not ones meant for Subject. “You have talent, imagine what you’d achieve as a Nightingale.”

Subject turned her focus to her sisters as they slowly stirred awake, sensing their agony, and feeling the hotness grow. There was something about the host that made her tremble, made her thoughts narrow, almost as if she were…

“Maidens like you are a rarity.” Command declared. “Killing you and your human would be a waste of potential.”

There was a word ringing inside Subject’s mind, a word that vibrated and seethed and wrestled against the stream of the many. The more she looked at her sisters, and their host, the more the hotness was overtaking her. Her wings ruffled and hands clenched into fists, vines coiling tight.

“That… is very generous.” She lowered the blade, taking a step away from them, ignoring the shocked look from the paralyzed one.

“It is.” Command eased a little as well.

“And… you just ask for a simple thing in exchange, right?” The armored maiden paused in front of a cupboard. “Monica becoming your property.” She uncorked the flask that contained the clear liquid, its acrid smell inundated the room.

Those words… that name… A trail of lightning ran down Subject’s wings, the air became charged. Particles of light danced behind her.

“Of course.”

The heat was boiling, it was burning, and the depths didn’t feel so shallow anymore, the stream was trembling, trying to contain the thing underneath, but. There was something urging her attention inside, deep, buried under leaves and vines.

“My human made his opinion clear on this matter.” She whirled around, raising the jar into the air. “Also, Monica says no.”

“STOP HER!”

There was no Command in the words, Subject could only sense the cloying scent in the air as her eyes were fixated on the host for her sisters. Thus she did not move. Instead she was focused on something else, the words were boiling up and out, her body was trembling, vines were grinding and coiling, tightening and throbbing.

The liquid splashed over her sisters, they withered and dried, writhing and wriggling in desperate pleas. But Subject wasn’t paying attention, her body was struggling against the undercurrent, the vinegar-like rancid smell sweltering and deafening the world.

Her sisters were seeded into flesh that was covered in white fur with black stripes.

White fur, black stripes.

Monica.

Sabertooth.

Heat and fire rose within the Subject, the suffocating smell mixing with the burning screams. Her mind screeched as her body convulsed and ruffled. Thoughts upon thoughts upon thoughts poured over, breaking through the stream, memories of screams and death, screams and death, watching her sisters writhing in a desperate attempt to survive, to resist.

“What have you done!?”

Someone shouted, sounds of loud metal crashing, glass breaking, Subject stumbled half a step, her parts searched for Command, for something to quell the thoughts, but found none. In its place there was something else, something that was coming out in anger and fury.

Individual.

Sabertooth.

More crashing, screams. And then fire.

An explosion that rocked the room, the Seraphim tumbled, her wings torn and falling, she’d been attacked, the paralyzed maiden from the shadows was paralyzed no more. The Pinielf was screaming, throwing the burning pieces of herself, her blood and gold eyes looking across the room at the Seraphim.

Then her sister’s seed-bed awakened, with piercing blue eyes.

The Seraphim’s body creaked and screamed and cried. Leather broke, cloth tore, light danced and lightning arched through her body.

It came to her. A name.

Her name.

“I. Am. Matina.”

“That’s not good.” The Pinielf muttered, holding the armored maiden by the throat against the wall.

Then there was light.

And screams.