Azela Incarnate

Catherine woke to find Azela gone. She didn't think anything of it at first, Azela did have a habit of wandering. But for some reason, this disappearance felt different.

It did not take long for her worry to shift into dread.

Even before she sat up, she knew something terrible, yet inevitable, was about to happen. It registered in her mind as more than just an ominous feeling. It was a known fact. Something was coming.

But that was groundless. She was no prophet. It was not her role to worry herself and others over some vague impending doom.

She shook off the feeling, telling herself not to be paranoid, and it immediately returned. She willed it away again.

Phoenix sat with her when she moved to the table and served breakfast with tea. Tisha was already outside playing. Sipping the tea, Catherine looked out the window and tried to guess the time. It was before noon.

"There was a note," Phoenix said, and slid it toward her. What Catherine saw was barely legible.

"She went to a musical?" Catherine asked. "Oh. The museum."

"Only those with connections among the curators are allowed inside of there; she knows that," said Phoenix. "We don't have those connections yet. Why would she go without us? I know that I said we could lie our way inside, but she stands out too much alone. They'll turn her away at the front door."

Catherine didn't answer. Everything seemed bathed in a different light and moved much slower than usual. At first she tried to ignore it, but the more she tried to detach herself, the greater her feeling of dread became.

Something bad was about to happen.

Something horrible.

Now the room began to swirl. Despite the tea, Catherine's mouth was suddenly dry.

Death.

People were going to die.

She knew it.

Her heart sank in her chest and Catherine felt herself become paler. The world had become pale as well. Phoenix must have sensed something, because she sprang from her chair. Her words were silent in Catherine's ringing ears.

Finally Catherine accepted the message, and reality came back to hit her like a club. The feeling was gone, replaced by cold expectancy.

She looked firmly at Phoenix. "You have to keep Tisha safe. Perhaps you will have to flee the village for a time. Something is very wrong. Death is coming." Her own words surprised her, not just the content but how resolutely it was delivered.

Phoenix put a hand on her arm. "It's your sword, isn't it? Our research did mention something about precognition."

Catherine growled. "Our research mentioned a lot of random, unrelated bullshit. All I know is that the sword is suddenly screaming at me with words that aren't words and showing me glimpses of mass slaughter."

Phoenix nodded slowly. "My head is still swimming with it all. One myth claimed that it contains the sundered consciousness of a dragon god. That would explain why no one can hold it without going insane, in time." She paused. "Sorry for the reminder. I'll take Tisha with me to visit the local fishermen. I know a few that would get us away from the island if we hear any screams."

Phoenix left quickly to find Tisha. Catherine picked up her staff. Her mind had been struggling with the sword's as far back as when she first touched it. The longer they were together, the more she was able to feel the sword's emotions and desires. It may not have been alive in the same way as Catherine, but it was aware.

There was something powerful sealed inside of there. Whatever it was, it was dangerous. Her temple had been wrong about many things, but it was correct about that.

Catherine pressed the sword-concealing staff against her forehead and reached out, mentally. Her mind touched the many souls the sword had taken into it, then reached deeper, searching for whatever core held them all together. Her thoughts subtly weaved together with all of those inside the cursed blade, not unlike what she had done with many creatures during conjuration.

It had warned her of the oncoming danger, even though her death would mean the sword was free to control a new owner. Whatever its intent, one thing was certain. Azela was in danger. That couldn't be ignored.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "I think we're finally starting to understand each other. Let's keep that up, shall we?" She straightened, tightening her grip. "I believe I'm going to need you."

* * *

Azela had examined the exhibits for a long time. Countless displays stretched through these cavernous areas, illuminated by lamps that made no sense. If no one was allowed here, why was everything lit up? And who was responsible for keeping them lit? Azela was annoyed that she had no answer and no one to ask.

This place had hundreds of displays, and she was only on the third of seven underground levels. Instead of trying to pass as an ordinary guest, she just didn't let herself be seen at all, using every skill in stealth she had ever learned while dodging predators in the Mietha and playing hide-and-seek with Catherine.

That was the only way to slip into the truly restricted sections, some of which were guarded by red-robed members of the Ruby Synod. Luckily, there were no doors between exhibits, only the bored guards. Many were still half asleep in the morning hours.

By spying, she caught a few quiet conversations. Through these, she learned that those in red robes were the acolytes of a vastly powerful wizard known as Vane. It wasn't easy to get past them, and she didn't regret leaving Catherine behind, since it would have been impossible for the sapien to keep up. Every successful evasion required careful timing and the inhuman silence of feet lighter than they should be.

She slipped past another one of them now, staying under shadow and moving quickly when he looked in another direction. It wasn’t so hard. Dark shadows concealed her movements while rows of display cases broke up the guards' lines of sight. Sapiens, with their blind spots and inaccurate vision, were easily evaded in these shady areas. A held breath kept her body steady as she sped across an exposed stretch of floor. Another heartbeat later, she vanished behind the next exhibit.

This section was dedicated to what seemed to be another world entirely. Tall murals, preserved remains, and weathered artifacts filled the chamber. Despite this area being sealed off from the general public, everything was laid out as artistically as any other exhibit. An unnatural stillness blanketed the room. It was oddly liminal, a space meant for people with no people in sight.

The world displayed was apparently a dark and creepy place, filled with nightmarish creatures and sinister looking locations. Yellowed journals described impossible encounters while preserved specimens rested behind glass. Azela couldn't help but think wryly that Catherine would love the aesthetic. The thought tugged at the corner of her mouth before fading beneath growing unease.

Steadily, she wandered through the displays stocked with documents and specimens. Glass jars contained malformed creatures while faded maps charted unfamiliar lands beneath neatly written annotations.

Judging by all that she saw, the existence of such a terrible place could teach anyone to fear the dark. Yet the sight of it all caused fragments of memory to stir. Somehow it all was familiar, as if...

Then all of her thoughts vanished, because it ceased to matter.

The only thing that existed to Azela was what she now saw. Without giving care to stay out of sight, she walked mindlessly toward the mural at the end of the exhibit, her heart beating faster with every step as she gazed at the impossible image that opened up before her.

When she saw it in its entirety, she fell to her knees, mesmerized by the gigantic painting that filled the wall. Rich pigments glowed beneath carefully positioned lights, preserving every detail with remarkable clarity. Her breathing slowed.

The image was her.

Not as she knew herself now, but like the reflection she had seen in the eyes of Reizu in her dream. Instead of blue eyes, the painting looked back at her with a bright golden stare, and her hair was ghostly white. But they had the same face, the same pointed ears, the same body.

In front of it was a shining yellow jewel on a pedestal. Golden light shimmered within, casting faint reflections across the polished stone beneath. The label under it read, "The Soul of Scera." She stood up, drawn to the jewel, and unconsciously stepped forward to take it in her hand.

It was in that moment that she realized her mistake, and it was too late to take it back. An icy sensation shot through her arm. Every muscle locked in place.

Suddenly, a malevolent voice screamed in her mind,"PARASITE!" Azela tried desperately to let go of the jewel, but it was too late. "INVADER!" The soul of Scera had returned to its body, the soul that Azela's had replaced. "GET OUT OF MY MIND!"

A disruption of wrongness, like a psychic pain, exploded through her thoughts as two consciousnesses collided. She tried to cry out, but that too was impossible. Her mouth was no longer hers to use.

Thrown to the ground, the body that had once been possessed by Azela began to spasm uncontrollably as it morphed itself into a different shape, convulsing and stretching skin, muscle, and bone. The back distended and split open in places, allowing two large, white-feathered wings and a tail covered in bloodied white fur to emerge. Fingernails changed into retractable claws. Teeth became sharper and the canines extended to vampiric proportions. All hair was now silvery-white and the eyes' pupils became catlike within predatory yellow irises.

A guard had rushed in to inspect the noise. He rounded a corner with one hand reaching toward his weapon. Before he could even gasp, Scera had torn his heart from his chest, devouring it ravenously as it continued to beat in her claws. Blood splashed across the nearby display cases and pooled beneath the collapsing body.

“Nothing? It gives… nothing. No being should be so hollow.” Scera’s gaze moved about her surroundings as if seeing them for the first time, then landed again on the guard she had killed. The splattering of blood that continued to pour from his chest was the only sound she could hear.

“You are not… of my kind. You will not live on in me.” A bloodlust filled her like nothing she had ever felt in her lifetime. The sustenance was much less than filling, and gave no knowledge of this new world around her. Her own memories were slow in returning. Perhaps the answers she sought could be found in another.

Sniffing the air, she caught the scent of many more on which she could feed, and she would rip apart every last one of them for what these sapiens had done to her.

It was not clear, but she remembered a little of the day she was taken from her home. She remembered fire. Blood. The screams of her tribe, dying with no one to carry their essences. Hatred settled into every breath she drew.

Azela could only watch, through Scera's eyes, as she set out to slaughter the inhabitants of Pandoria.