Azela Incarnate

Some called for the little girl's death after what happened to her father. Not for justice, but for fear of what she was and what she was capable of. No one actually blamed her. It was evident what guided the child's actions.

She did not know her own strength, and clearly her father didn't either. His fate was a learning experience for the entire clan.

All of them knew that an end was coming. It was not the first time he had struck her, nor was it the first time she had fought back. Many had witnessed the abuse from the towers and caverns of the aerie, offering neither aid nor protest. Like many times before, her surviving parent had decided that he would express his disgust for this accident from his lover's loins. Like most other incarnates, he saw it as an abomination, but kept it alive for a variety of reasons, such as mercy, curiosity, responsibility, and habit. But the longer it lived, the more disgust of the thing and fear of its strangeness grew.

Other than those of cattle and wildlife, children were a largely alien concept to incarnates. Her father had never been a child himself, and his memories of other children were of a life not his own, of a people he was never a part of.

For ages uncountable, many species on the long chains of evolution that stretched back to the dawn of life were born with instincts to care for their young. These beings were not. They had not even been born themselves.

Few denizens of the dark lands ever had a child intentionally. Most were abandoned and never spoken of again. More often than not, the children survived anyway.

Her father had no way of knowing the danger. His inherited fragments of knowledge were of human children. Defenseless, soft, fragile things that did not hatch from eggs and needed constant care in order to survive. His own life began in a fully formed, never-changing body. He never had to grow into his strength, never had to earn it. Yet he did not consider that his child would have similar strength to his own, at that age.

The night began with him deciding to finally end the child's life, underestimating the will to survive of such a small creature.

It ended with his entrails spilled across the floor.

That is how she earned her name. She was part of the first generation of descendants. Her parents were beings created from the schism in Exitherra's mind, given names that reflected the memories that formed them. Every incarnate carried an identity inherited from fractured thoughts that predated their existence.

The little girl was hatched, not formed, and had no fragments from which to name herself. That is, until she tore them out of another.

For the evisceration of her father, the chief deemed her Eviscera, and declared her as one of their own. It was also decided that anyone who treated her as an outcast gave her the right to confront their insults by way of mortal combat. It was a way to test if she was more than just the refuse of uncontrolled lust. It was also an excuse to be rid of her if she failed to be anything less than perfect.

At the naming ceremony, she ate her first incarnate heart, that of her father, at the age of four. As she bit into the cardiac muscle tissue, a glow spread from where her teeth punctured it, spreading like cracks. Then, the heart shattered into fragments that were not so much eaten as absorbed, imbuing the child with memories and power.

She opened herself to the particles of light that spread through her body, breathing it, drinking it, letting it become one with herself. In a sense, she became a continuation of her father, taking in all of the corrupted, fading memories that he held when he died. And through him she also took in the memories of her mother, whose heart her father had eaten long ago.

Her mother. A soul too kind for the harshness of this prison. A woman unknown to most and unremembered to all, save now for Eviscera. How her father could remain so cruel while carrying her memories, knowing through her eyes how beautiful she saw this hellscape of a world and the horrid creatures within, she did not know.

As she looked at the last few glowing fragments in her palms, melting, merging into her skin, she said, "You will live on… in me."

* * *

As Catherine ran against the fleeing crowd, she saw the familiar face of the merchant they once helped. Grabbing him, she asked, "What's going on?" Villagers shoved past her, brushing against her shoulders as cries echoed between the nearby buildings.

"Some animal or conjured beast got loose in the museum," he said, "It's killed several already, we were told to flee the area. Once we started hearing screams, we didn't have to be told again. This way!" He waved for her to follow, but didn't check to see if she did. Another wave of townsfolk surged by. He disappeared into them.

Pulling out the worn old ledger that contained her collection of hand-drawn sigils, she continued on the opposite way, flipping through the weathered pages without breaking her stride. Breath came faster with every step.

At the museum's entrance, she saw several corpses among fallen weapons and scattered belongings. Her feet could not avoid all of the blood, splashing in some of the still-warm puddles as she ran up to examine the bodies. Many of their chests had been torn open, spilling various organs wherever a victim had fallen. No whole hearts were among them, only ones that appeared partially eaten.

The sickening smells of slaughter filled every breath.

Her own heart dropped when she saw what appeared to be Azela's blue robe among the bodies, but she quickly realized that it wasn't her. The relief was fleeting.

"Oh, love, where are you?" she asked as she knelt and used the spilled blood to make a few sigils that weren't in the ledger, which she now set aside with her staff. Cold stone pressed against her knees as careful lines took shape beneath her fingers. Quiet words accompanied each mark.

One song blended into another as her hand signs shifted, casting spells with a wide net. All across the village, dark wings filled the air above rooftops while tiny claws scraped beneath floorboards and behind walls. Bats awoke early and flew among crows and ravens. Rats crept through their hidden passageways throughout the museum. All carried a small part of her. Countless eyes searched where her own could not.

Catherine's consciousness was stretched thin amongst her helpers. Her mind strained under their shared perceptions.

Whatever was killing people was moving fast. The trail of bodies spread far. Fires had broken out as a result of some of the magic-users trying to defend themselves. Smoke obscured entire streets. Ice spikes remained embedded in walls, still frozen. Burns that had to have come from electricity left intricate marks. Yet everywhere they looked, it was just a moment too late. Only the fallen remained.

Fear and confusion poured through every borrowed sense. Then finally, she saw life. Rachael and some other academy students were rescuing a family from a collapsing building.

"At least Rachael's safe," Catherine said.

"A shame the same can't be said for you," came a familiar voice behind her. "Don't try for your staff, you'll be dead before you reach it."

Most of Catherine's expanded mind snapped back into her body. She stood up and turned to see Shi-Yon behind her with a dirk in his hand.

"I warned you this would happen," he said, "Now I have to clean up your mess." Smoke drifted between them, carrying the lingering scent of burning wood and bodies.

"What is even going on?" Catherine asked. "Have you seen Azela?"

"Azela is the one that did this!" Shi-Yon said. His outstretched arm trembled with restrained anger as it swept across the carnage surrounding the museum entrance. "And now their blood is on my hands as well, for not stopping this insanity when I should have!"

Catherine looked at him incredulously. "How is Azela responsible? You can't think she killed all these people!"

"She's a dreg!" He shouted. "Of course she killed these people!" His voice echoed above the distant crackle of flames.

Catherine looked at all of the torn remains around her. "That makes no sense! We’ve theorized that she might be something other than glitchen, but even so, how could she do all of this herself?"

"With her bare hands," he said, readying his dirk. "It's up to me, now. I may be the only one who can kill her." The blade caught the last light of the sun before it was obscured by smoke. He settled into a guarded stance.

Catherine's staff levitated into the air, distracting Shi-Yon just long enough for Catherine to dive forward and tackle him to the ground. She tried to remove his helmet, but he teleported out from under her. Momentum from his vanishment rolled her across the ground. Air rippled as he appeared behind her back, dirk raised.

The staff flew into him before he could move, with so much force that it sent him flying into a nearby wall. Then the staff drifted into Catherine's waiting hand as she stood. Shi-Yon crumpled to one knee before forcing himself upright.

"I can… see," Catherine said as she watched Shi-Yon recover. Her eyes had become unnaturally dark, save for the violet irises that seemed to glow. Shadows like flame swept across her staff. "I can see the shadows you walk." Cold air gathered around her.

Catherine extended her hand. Dark wisps curled around her fingers before dissolving into the air.

Shi-Yon tried to teleport… and found himself upside down, several feet from his intended destination. He hit the ground before realizing that he was falling, forcing the breath from his lungs as his armor slammed against the stone.

"What did you do?" he asked, checking his body.

"I'm going to teleport you inside out, now," Catherine said coldly. The shadow-flames had spread to her body. She reached out toward him.

"People are dying, Catherine!" Shi-Yon shouted. "And it's your fault! Only we have the power to stop her now!" His voice cracked with desperation.

Fresh screams carried faintly from somewhere deeper within the village. Catherine borrowed a raven's vision to see where they came from. Rooftops and burning streets spread beneath her borrowed sight. Fresh movement drew her attention toward a nearby square.

Then she saw her. The raven settled upon the edge of a shattered roof, granting Catherine a clearer view below. Breath caught in her throat as recognition struck. Every other thought vanished.

Blood and viscera clung to a form that was both familiar and not. The torn scraps of cloth it wore were so destroyed that it could hardly be called a robe anymore. It stood upon a pile of freshly slaughtered sapiens. Even with the flames behind, impairing the raven's vision, she could see the bloodied wings and tail, and the clawed hand that brought a heart to the creature's face to be torn apart by its fangs.

A familiar face. Azela's face.

Her love.

Disbelief lingered for only an instant before horror took its place, tightening in her chest. Silence filled her mind when even her own chaotic thoughts did not know what to think.

Catherine unlinked from the raven, unable to stand to see more. Uneven breaths escaped as she struggled to steady herself.

"Did you see?" asked Shi-Yon. "We have to—"

"If you want to help these people, then do it!" Catherine cried. "There are wounded who cannot escape on their own. Go! And leave Azela to me."

"I can't do that," Shi-Yon said. "I'm the only one—"

Shadows surrounded him, slicing into the weak points of his armor. He teleported but Catherine intercepted it, trying to scramble his body into paste before it could get away. He screamed into the space between spaces, in agony as a force tried to send each of his cells to a different location.

But Catherine was inexperienced with this new power that Shi-Yon had been using for much longer, and he slipped outside her vision and away from her grasp. Darkness twisted around his path before collapsing into itself. Cracks spread through the stone beneath Catherine's feet as the magic strained against the world around them.

Silence returned the instant he escaped.

It mattered little to her. She could sense him now. If he ever moved himself through the shadows near her again, she could, and would, kill him.

Her staff drifted from her hand and floated in front of her. "Okay, you can come out now," she said, and the black shadows of Katherine cut away the surrounding wood, leaving behind her sheathed sword. As she reached out and took hold of it, she said, "No fighting now, I still need you," then turned to where she had seen the nightmare wearing Azela's face.