Dark Scion She jerked in her seat for the last time as the bus came to a halt. They were, aptly put, in the middle of nowhere, she and the bus driver. He leaned back and looked at her as if he was not entirely certain this woman knew where she was going. "Last stop," he said warily. She blinked and peered out the window. They were in a vast stretch of nothing, mere sand and rock; the closest point of civilization was a mile away. "You gotta get off here," said the driver. "I can't take you back." The woman stood, and reasoned that this was as good a place as any to continue her journey. He had taken her as far as he could; the rest she would have to do on her own. She walked up to the front, passing him as she got off. "You sure this is your stop?" he asked. He didn't get an answer. She watched the bus turn around and go back the other way. She walked in the direction she chose—south, towards the town, though she didn't know this—and kept to the path for a day. The woman was filthy, starving, and exhausted by the time she reached the old place, a phenomenon that had not yet happened to her. She did not know the frailty of the human body until she had lived in it. Vaguely she searched the town, too weary to kill, too puzzled to move. She went into a restaurant, killed until she had privacy, and ate to her heart's content. She let herself inside a person's house, stripped off her ratty clothes, and bathed, with their body hanging from a hook. She stole more clothes and went to sleep in the man's bed. Nobody disturbed her, because she in fact had disturbed everybody, and they knew better than to approach the woman who had killed so many of their own. The goddess of death woke up the next morning—fittingly, in a graveyard just outside the town. Not yet being a month old, she did not understand the purpose of the place, nor why it was so empty, nor why it gave her a sense of peace being there—like it was home. She wandered the tombs blindly, stumbling about on unsure legs, searching for something mysterious. A fog rose in the morning light, and birds croaked overhead. She came across a mausoleum and went inside; it was there, of all places, where she met the one she had been seeking. "I thought you'd never show up," he said impatiently. "I told you I'd find you, but it certainly took awhile. It looks like you had to go and find me." The lady was mute. He was ghastly and pale, like a corpse that did not yet know of its death, and cloaked in a habit. Smiling, he shuffled towards her—she decided to kill him. The weapon snapped out and became a whip, but all she could do was raise it: it could not fall, no matter how hard she willed it. The man simply could not be killed by her efforts. She struggled and ground her teeth, but it was in vain. He sighed, lowered her arm, and stared into her eyes, his own red and dull. "Did you really think I'd let my own creation have that kind of power? No, my dear, you could not kill me, not by any means. You were not meant to. But you will soon be glad of it, I assure you. I've come to bring you home, where you are going to start what we finished so long ago." She tried to speak, but her voice was caught. This man... Whoever he was, she did not know him, but something in the back of her infantile mind told her he was important, he was to be obeyed, he was...Master. Somehow he was. "What's that?" he grumbled. "Can't speak? It's no surprise, you were just born a week or two ago by my reckoning. It's a miracle you managed to walk this far! So how many have you killed since you woke up and became sentient, my dear? Fifty? Sixty? Bah! You're still just a baby. Back in the old days, you could wipe out entire countries in a matter of weeks! But this place is different, this time is different. People are more resilient here, and you were just ‘born' not long ago. Well, speak! You've got the power, so why not say something? Or do you choose to be mute?" She wanted to talk, really she did, but what to say? A hundred questions came up, a hundred thoughts and a hundred feelings. Things started rushing at her quickly, like the fall of rain from the sky, pelting her endlessly—but above all else, one thing embraced her young mind the strongest, something so powerful and abominable that it preceded everything else, even her own identity. "...Where's my sister?" ......... His name was Malchior, the Scion of Darkness, and he had been around long enough to see the future turn into ancient history. He was old, old, terribly old, and terribly wrought from the years; his skin was pale and wrinkly, hair white as a winter sky, eyes terribly bloodshot and teeth rotting. He sounded like a frog on the verge of death, and shuffled so slowly that it would take him a day to reach the room next door. Yet the woman knew not to kill him, not to hate him—and not to trust him. He called her Kali, the goddess of death. Kali. Her name was Kali. "Is it coming back to you?" he asked, referring to her memory. She swallowed. "Do you know where my sister is?" "Ah, yes, your memory must be in excellent condition if you remember that. Ha! Of all the details of your former lives to recall, you summon up that one! Amazing. The bond between you two is even stronger than I thought. Truly amazing." "...Where is she?" He grinned. "One thing at a time, miss. You're still just learning to walk. You're not quite at the level where you can go about crusading for lost family members. Meeting me should be enough for one day, yes. I'd be happy to answer any other questions you may have." Kali paused, and stared at her hands. After the eternal sea, they had been the first things she gazed upon after birth. She stared at them again, old familiar friends, already drenched with blood. "Tell me about myself." "You'll recall everything you need to know in time." "Tell me about that energy weapon I had." "Ah, that was my master's creation, a man whose skills I am unworthy of replicating. He was brilliant and cruel; he taught me well, though I was his elder even in those days. How do you like it?" "It is...magnificent," she whispered. "Unbound, unlike traditional weapons, and unchallenged in power. Much like myself." "Yes indeed, much like yourself, Kali. It's a proper tool for you to use." She paused and started to think of more questions to ask. "Where is my sis—I mean, I should probably ask...what is my purpose in this life?" "The same as it was in your previous two lives," he answered quietly. "Once we find your sister, the two of you are to bring order to this world. You shall reign it eternally, the two of you, and keep the human beings from obliterating themselves! I know that will soon be their fate if they are left unchecked. They must have stern shepherds to guide them." "What do you mean, my two previous lives?" The Dark Scion scowled. "It is...a matter of no importance." "I want to know." He coughed. "You were simply killed, that's all! Though it took a calamity to destroy you both times. Yet I did not give up. I simply...waited for the times to change, for people to become fat and lazy again. This time I believed I reached the proper period." "Was I created?" "Yes, indeed. It took me countless ages to perfect the art, and I had to find suitable homunculi to fit your wild souls into. I must say, after the first prototype, I was loathe to change your appearance, or your sister's. You look exactly the same as the very first day of your first life." "So I am...just a created being, made by you." "It's really no different from being a human," he answered. "God made Man from the dust of the earth, and then He created Woman from Man's flesh. I merely...improved the model. You could go so far as to say that you, my dear, are an evolved human." Kali was silent as she stared into the distance. Her hand clenched and unclenched. She did not move, or speak. Malchior cackled softly, and shuffled towards her. "Satisfied? I can answer more questions if you have them." "Where is my sister?" "Got a one-track mind, huh? Not that I blame you; I made you to have that desire. Well, the short answer is I don't know. I didn't know where you were when you were born, I just knew that you'd come to me. You were inexplicably drawn to me, as I made you to be. Your sister...unfortunately, must be found." "Won't she come here too?" "No, I couldn't make her that way. Creating two identical women was pointless; you both needed a distinct personality to truly be complete. You, Kali, are the dark goddess of death. You are like a plague, like a disaster, destroying and slaughtering in the masses. That's what you're supposed to do." "And my sister?" "You don't know yet? Oh, very well: Celine is the light goddess of death, like old age. A more peaceful kind of death. Similar, but very different. Understand?" Kali blinked and breathed the name of the woman she was connected to, from time immemorial: Celine... "That is her name," she said. "The name of my sister. She is...Celine." "That's right." Kali turned to face Malchior, and frowned. "I shall never be a substitute for her, old fool." "What?" His face twisted. She snarled. "I shall never be Venus. Nor shall my sister. Nor the child you intend for us to bear. We shall never be captives of your heart." "Kali...what the hell do you mean? How could you..." He was too shocked to even stand; he collapsed and rasped with great difficulty. She walked over, unable to even kick him, but there were other pains she could inflict. "I remember it all now. In the brief time it takes a person to conceive thought, I have been given a revelation. I know it all now—who I am, what I was meant for, everything. I no longer need you. I shall not be your whore." "Kali...you could not...have known that..." "I'll leave you be," she said wickedly, turning round to part. "You can go and resurrect something and get it to do your bidding and hold you in the night. Or stalk some poor person and suck their life dry. I honestly don't even care if you rot to death right here and now. I'll leave you be and make my own way in life, and when I find my sister, we'll show you just how great a menace you've made. Odd, isn't it?" she said as a final thought. "That Man could fall by choice, by want, that he could rebel from his own Creator. And now there's me." "KALI!!" She did not even turn to look back as she walked away from the mausoleum and the graveyard, her destiny now clear, her path bright and shining. No more confusion. No more childishness. Kali knew precisely what she wanted to do, and where she wanted to go, and how she would do it. She was on the move again, this time with a clear purpose, and all the deadlier for it. ...... Malchior stood to his feet and limped out of the mausoleum, cursing Kali and his ancient legs. He breathed heavily and studied the graveyard, wondering if he could sink so low as to heed his own creation's advice. As if the master should obey their servant! But he had no choice, he was old and weary, and in need of new life. He nearly fainted before coming across a lonely gravedigger, finishing the last of his work. He gave a start and turned, pointing a flashlight at the ancient man. "What the devil are you?" he wondered, staring hard. In that light, Malchior looked more like a specter than a man, and snarled as the light blinded him. With the last of his strength he attacked, embracing the man with his frail arms, drawing upon his life-force until nothing was left but a corpse—ready to do his master's bidding. Malchior stood, refreshed to some degree, feeling decades younger. "Ah, that's better," he sighed, parting back his milky hair. "I didn't think I'd last any longer. You," he coughed, kicking the zombie, "go and see if there aren't any others wandering this place. Find them and bring them to me. We'll have a family of undead in no time at all." Wordlessly the creature obeyed, and lumbered off to search for the living. Malchior took a deep breath, glanced at the ground—and smiled. A spider was at his foot, like a little dog pawing for scraps. Gently he bent down, took the animal in his hand, and ate it. The zombie he sent out was worth more than he bargained, for it had gathered three people in a short time, and had subdued every one of them, mostly with just its awful presence. Malchior grinned and praised the creature: it had brought a strapping man in his thirties, a young girl, and a slightly older gentleman who had fainted along the way. Combined, they would probably shave at least a century off of his appearance and give him quite a few more years. His mouth salivated hungrily at the thought of absorbing so much energy. "Wonderful!" he howled. The zombie held the young man and girl tight as Malchior pounced on the old man first, draining him of his brief remaining years. He did not visibly grow young yet, but felt as if he could start walking upright, and not scurry like some hunchback. He stared at the girl next, knowing she would bring him unbelievable potential. The second zombie took hold of her in its arms as she screamed helplessly. A flash of otherworldly light overcame the cemetery, bringing morning to the darkness briefly and sending the zombies crumbling to dust. Malchior scowled and shielded his sensitive eyes from the blinding light; the man and the girl gasped in awe. "An angel!" she exclaimed, "An angel!!" "Run! Quickly!" A strong voice called out to them, and they were gone before Malchior could even cry out. The light faded soon, enabling him to turn around to glare at the one who had interfered. When he saw the vision, though, he trembled and fell to his knees. It was, as the girl had described, an angel, though seemingly as dark and wretched as he. It had a companion, too, one who was more shadow than flesh. "You have stolen enough life for one day," spoke the angel firmly. "Is it not enough that people suffer through casual means every day? Do you need to add to their troubles with your defilements? Begone from this place, wretched man, and do not sin ever again, lest I shall find you and make you suffer ten times what you have wrought!" "O, my master," he wailed, bowing at the two dark creatures; "O, my completeness! My entirety, my grace, my banner, my steadfast rock!" "Stop that!" snarled the shadow, kicking him soundly. "You disgust me." "Forgive me!" he wailed—but the two seemed to ignore him. The angel spoke to their companion. "Come, Amielle, let us go. Leave this one." "With pleasure," she snorted. The angel and the shadow were gone before Malchior could notice it; he stood, quivering, shaken from his revelation. Had the gods of the dark finally paid him a visit, and found him lacking? Were they so sick of him that they would deny him his right to life? Did they intend for him to live the rest of his years in reform? "I must pursue them," he whispered to himself. "They are what I have been dreaming about! O, Kali, that you were loyal! For the third time, I have been duped by my horrible heart! My Venus...ever elusive! Oh, my Kali, my Celine, where could you be, O my Venus?" He wailed and wailed, until the morning light—the honest light of the creeping sun—forced him back into hiding. Just for a moment, though. He'd be out and about, wreaking havoc, in no time. ---------- To be continued... As Kali and the Dark Scion go down their different paths, another evil makes its presence known in the world. Seven Sins bring disaster to an unsuspecting world, led by a mysterious man in black. What are their motives? What is the ultimate goal of the one called Omega? Only some questions will have answers in the next chapter, "The Seven". Stay tuned!
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