SIREN CRY - Printable Version

For the first time in many cycles, Lamia left Fornax. She'd been stationed there, tending to Mother's node - it was strong, very strong, with many hosts living within the waters as fish and other marine sea life that she'd ensnared. They protected her, fed her, but there were few threats to the hive, hidden away so perfectly. Only accessible from the water. Perhaps to be used as an emergency escape, should Mother ever require such a drastic measure. But Lamia had found herself...bored. She missed the old family, feeling them around her as they tended to Mother. She found herself wanting for the first time in many cycles.

Wanting more.

More of what, she wasn't sure. Mother always assured her that she was doing good, she was a good daughter, that her work was important, and, of course, Lamia believed her. But she felt like...she could still do more. But there wasn't much she could do, deep beneath the waters, where the intelligent life, it seemed, was far and few.

And so she had come to Ursa to make her request. Mother had probably heard her question through her mind, but Lamia wanted to be there in person to make it officially. It was that important to her, and, if accepted, only possible face to face. She couldn't change in Fornax.

She arrived at the pool of water she knew led into the tunnels and a Praetor was already there to take her deeper into the tunnels. She let herself be lifted from the water, taking breaths occasionally through magic as they went deeper into the hive, until, at last, they arrived in Mother's chamber, where she was gently set in the shallow, warm pool that had been created for her.

Mother. Thank you for waiting for me. You probably know already what I've come all this way for...but I wanted to be here to ask. I've been working in Fornax, for you, for many cycles. Your node there is strong, but it is unthreatened and unknown. It has many watchers in the water that will care for you in my stead. I wish...to do more for you. To help fight against Chaos. She didn't say it out loud, but she thought of Pallas in her mind - the changes that had happened to him, to strengthen the connection. She wanted it too, more then anything else.

There was assurance in every step.

Mother knew how difficult it was for Lamia to be taken the whole way here.

There was praise for her courage. Her loyalty. Her dedication.

The pulsing, white insectoid mass that was Mother (beautiful, so beautiful) waited, watched, a peaceful sound like purring emanating from her. Workers came to and fro, the crystalline clarity of the room shimmering with Mother's dim lights.

And now Lamia could hear her voice, not only sense it--what a gift, her ~~grating rasps~~ chiming bell notes almost ~~horrific~~ musical in this chamber.

"You are a good daughter, already," Mother reassured her. But she could sense the thoughts of Pallas, the way that Lamia craved more. This was admirable...

"I will embrace you and draw you closer... if you wish. Lead you to Order, my child. To a reformation, free of Chaos. But..." This was faintly troubling. "The way is long. You will need to breathe your water deep... and it will be cold, and dry, until the end."

She would need to imbue this one with the ability to breathe air, as well as water, else she would not survive her own awakening.

"Tell me... what function do you wish to serve?" A whisper of thought: there were many Drones. So many roles. Feeder. Guardian. Prophet. They had a Speaker, now, and a Priestess; what would Lamia wish to be? She would, of course, always be daughter. Always be beloved child...

There was soft warmth in the next thought, pride in her child for being so brave, admiration that Lamia had come to her for this. "If you are certain... then we may begin."

Lamia crooned softly at the praise and nodded, understanding. She would need to be ready. As Mother spoke, Lamia began reserving water in her chest, to filter through on the way to her recreation. She felt no fear, only excitement for the coming change, but something still nagged at her thoughts. Something that Mother also contemplated, unknown to her.

Thank you, Mother. But, I was wondering, would it be possible for you to make other changes? You say you're reforming us. Can you make it so that I can be on land and water? I could do so much more if I could breathe and move around on the surface. She hoped that she wasn't asking too much of her Mother - after all, this was a great honor for her already.

As for her role, Lamia was silent for a moment, thinking. If you could make that change, then I want to be your eyes and ears, Mother. I can travel quickly from place to place through the water currents. I can hide in the water, hear what the fish say. I can deliver messages, if you need. I will go wherever you ask of me. If these changes aren't possible...then I will spread your nodes wherever I can, bring you to others. Your harbinger. Either way, of course, she would spread Mother's influence wherever the waters would take her.

She nodded one final time. Yes. I have never been more ready for anything.

There was a flicker of kindness, sympathy, along that link--despite the fact that the monstrous insect looming overhead continued to simply loom. Of course, she could hardly help the way she looked.

But Lamia..?

Lamia, she could remake.

"I think it will be necessary. It will be Order's touch that reforms you, but the place it must be done is dry. Cold. You will have no breath left by the time you arrive. It will be... a trial. Unpleasant... even painful." Great mandibles twitched, as if unnerved, or thoughtful--it was hard to tell. "But know that I will be with you, linked to you, each step of the way. And when you waken--for your own survival--it will be with air in your lungs."

There was a gesture then. Two Praetors turned, stepping forward, ready to carry Lamia down the tunnels.

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The way was long. Chest-achingly long, no water to dip her face into on the way. Long minutes were spent merely curving downward, the Praetors picking their way along the labyrinthine route, through pitch darkness: down this tunnel, ignoring that one, making a right here or a left there or dropping down a slope. All was bitter cold, frozen, and slick with years of use.

Here and there, they paused, and other Praetors appeared in the dark: moved forward, and pushed aside great sheets of smooth ice that served as doors. Otherwise-invisible tunnels became apparent, and Lamia's benefactors carried her onward.

And when the pain might grow great--the agony of no breath to be had--Mother soothed her. With words in her mind and a cloak of peace across her emotions, she soothed her.

"We are almost there," she murmured, at last. A reassurance. A promise.

For the first time, Lamia became a little nervous. She didn't like pain - who did? - but she had been fortunate enough to not suffer much damage to her body. She wasn't used to feeling pain. Outside of the occcasional struggles for breath when her magic failed her, she'd had little that had caused her discomfort. But she did not waver in her conviction - for Mother, and for this opportunity, she would gladly take it on. It was simply the anticipation that sent a shiver through her fins.

I understand. Thank you, Mother. A deep instinct screamed out against this - her, breath air? A land creature?! It was unthinkable and almost revolting, to have her body changed to that of a beast of the land. She would no longer be the perfect, graceful creature of the sea that had once inspired Tenzin to leave his abode. But, she reminded herself, Tenzin was not as important as Mother. Nothing was as important as Her. She wiped away whatever hesitance her instincts tried to force on her as easy as parting the seagrass. She took one last deep breath of the water and then allowed the Praetors to lift her from the pool.

She could do this. Mother was with her.

As they made their way through the labyrinth, Lamia carefully used what water she'd reserved before, flushing it through her gills for an extended breath, dragging it out as long as she could. And then, when that was finished, she did her best to summon what moisture she could, collecting at her sides so that she could breathe from what she scrapped together. To her dismay, however, it wasn't much. The corridors were so frozen and dry that pulling moisture from the ice around her was near impossible without melting it first. She quickly ran out of water to use and was forced to simply hold her breath the rest of the way.

It grew more and more difficult the longer they went. Her chest was burning, her head spinning. But she fought through it because Mother was here. Her words were soothing. Almost there. Almost to the end. A little longer, and she would never have to feel this pain again. Her fins were quivering in the Praetors hold, but she didn't struggle. She didn't clutch at her throat and heave for breathe, no. She held out, although by the time they'd reached their destination, Lamia was on the verge of unconsciousness. Her eyesight was wavering and her body convulsing, trying to find some way of getting oxygen into her bloodstream, but still she held on by a thread.

And there... it was.

First to her senses, should Lamia's suffocating lungs spare her the attention to hear it: a soft, rhythmic clicking echoing from somewhere up ahead. Second... a soft light, pale and crystalline, pulsing from around the next icy bend.

The Praetors hurried onward, scurrying as Mother urged them into greater speeds. They rushed into the massive final chamber and there--there, finally--was Order.

Order, quietly moving its way across a domed room of ice, each perfectly cubical crystal shining with its own inner light. And there were so many of them: lined up, churning, moving and shifting as if walking their way across the room.

The structure was perfection. It was Order, incarnate, always symmetrical, always in perfect pattern and timing.

"This... is where you will be remade. Reformed, in his perfection, as the eyes and ears of our wonderful family." But--alas, there was no time for speeches, not with the pressure of lungs and air and water.

"Have courage, my child. I will see you soon." The Praetors, with a sense of reverence, brought their offering, their sacrifice, to the moving fractal. And they waited, waited that moment until Lamia was ready. And then, she was given to the stones.

Tipped over into their snapping, churning cubes, and her death would come swiftly: the crack of rock, one against another, crushing away in an instant a life that had spent cycles flourishing in the caves. This fractal tore through her, tore her to pieces--freezing and cracking away every piece that had been Lamia from body and bone to magic and stone--until nothing at all remained.

Not a single scale, not a scrap of fin. No jewelry, no dye, no link to other creatures: all was torn away, except for Lamia's memories.

__________________

Days would pass, and then weeks.

The Chrysocolla gemstone, one day, tumbled back from the fractal stones as they marched interminably onward. It was left behind as Order faded, but it was now Order of its own: clear, perfect, like crystal glass.

And this stone would grow, latching to ice and stone and swelling there, a single Praetor always there to guard it.

And when at last she hatched, there would be no more fungus; there was no need. Only a peace, a symmetry in Order, a sense that all was as it should be. The first voice to greet her would be Mother's--but first, Lamia would need to be reborn.

__________________

Lamia has been reformed by the Clearstone Spire, and is now Ordered Element. Her stone, now Clearstone, may reform anywhere on her body provided it is perfectly symmetrical. She will no longer give off any scent at all.

After one month has passed, Lamia will emerge and Mother can be GM-tagged again for further interaction.

She tried to see, wanted to see more then anything, before she went to sleep. Eyesight wavering, colors bleeding into each other, but still she strained to see beyond the dark that was quickly encroaching her vision. It was...beautiful. Perfection. Order, materialized, the very soul of its power, was before her. And it was more wonderful then she could have imagined. Mother's words whispered in her ear, but she couldn't hear anymore. It was all she could do to see. But she trusted them - Mother, the Praetors, Order itself. She would not die here.

Content, Lamia let go. The pain in her body took over, lack of oxygen consuming her, sending her into unconsciousness, tumbling dangerously close to the edge of death. And then, as they tipped her into the stones and she was thrown over.

The pain of her unmaking followed her beyond the dark. It would have woken her, if there was any body to wake into. She knew nothing but agony for the few moments of her destruction, and then, as she became nothing, consumed by Order, the pain was gone and she knew no more.

*temporary exit

Time passed. The gemstone on the ice and stone grew, different then before. Clear and crystal perfect, the creature within, crowing through the glass-like shell around her. It took a long time, stretching her, changing her, restructuring her every cell, until at last, it was time. She was ready.

Consciousness flooded back like water through a broken dam, her last memories foggy and distant. Things seemed strange and unreal, like she'd just been dreaming deeply but could remember little of what had happened before. Groggy and sleepy, she stretched out, pushing against whatever she had wrapped herself in this time...

She remembered as soon as she heard the sound of breaking glass. The clearstone chrysalis collapsed around her and she fell heavily onto the cold stone. Panic set in immediately, remembering her last moments of pain and suffocation, nearly dying before Mother could reform her. She held her breath and scrambled desperately for magic, for something to help her breathe.

But it wasn't working. She felt distant from the magic she'd used before, as if she'd forgotten how to use it. Nothing came to her but a calm, crystalline sense of Order. She scrambled to do something with it, internally begged her own magic to help but she might as well as tried to bend a tree. Something snapped and pain split across her chest as the magic rebounded and she leaned over, instinctively coughing and heaving over the pain.

Wait a second.

It took her a second to realize exactly what she was doing. She was coughing...but she was breathing. She froze completely, and took a tentative breath. Air rushed into her lungs, as if it were water. It was crisp, dry, almost painfully so after a lifetime of breathing from water, but it was working. Her head started to clear with the continuous breaths until it came naturally.

She was frozen in shock, looking back at the crystalline Spire behind her. "Mother?" Her voice was different - still rough and scratchy, but with tones of the beautiful song-like voice that echoed under the waves. "I...I can breathe. Did you do this for me as well?"

"Lamia."

The connection was crystalline, as was the world in Lamia's perception, now: bright with clarity, Ordered, perfect. At least, that's how things were seen. How they should be. There was no longer a need for an infection; Lamia's veins were a pure lattice, her body wholly odorless and clean.

"Order has reformed you, in his image." This came soft, reverent, with thrumming depths of emotion the link, even at its strongest, had never been able to convey.

"Return to me--let me see you."

Mother was deeply pleased, and Lamia would feel it: the caress of precious approval, soothing warm across her mind.

The Praetors were there, ready to carry her back.

Distant thoughts would drift through Lamia's mind--touches, brushes, considerations. Mother knew that Lamia wished to be her harbinger. The title, however, was... reserved; and she sought a name to put to her newest daughter's purpose.

"Lamia Drone. Zero Zero Three Herald..." she suggested, in a whisper that brushed like silk across the lamia's mind. But it was half a question; she was waiting, wondering if Lamia had a title she wished for her own.

The voice in her head was clearer then it had ever been, perfect, like glass and crystal, like Mother lived within her very veins. Perhaps she did, as a part of Order that Lamia had embraced. Gratitude surged through her, for Mother and for Order, for giving her this precious gift she had craved from the first day she'd discovered she'd never breathe above the water. Tears would have been shed then, if Lamia could cry, but she simply smiled at the Spire behind her, round eyes wide with glee. "Thank you," she rasped, before turning to the Praetor, letting it scoop her up in its arms, holding it by its neck with her long, spindly arms.

She noticed something else as she was lifted from the ground. How much it had to gather in its arms. She looked down and was once again stricken with shock. Her tail had almost doubled in length. It was similar in shape and the fins were still there, but it had been stretched and strengthened and, now that she was paying attention to it, it felt different. Heavier. She tested her tail and it flipped around just as it had before. She wondered if it was long and strong enough to drag her across land, like a serpentine creature. For now, however, she'd allow herself to be carried. She doubted she had the strength to climb all the way back to Mother, or even the coordination on her tail.

She breathed slowly as they went up, noticing everything about the air, how crisp and dry it was, how it seemed to dry her body from the inside out. She swallowed heavily, already feeling dehydration gripping her throat. Even if she could be above water now, she didn't think she preferred it. It was as unpleasant as it had been before the change and, besides the fluid of her chrysalis, she had been away from the water for a very long time.

The name brushed against her as they travelled and she thought of it for a moment, before an affirming chime rang through the connection. I like it, Mother. Zero Zero Three Herald. I will do my best to live up to it." She smiled, again, and the rest of the journey was silent.

As soon as they entered Mother's cave, the Praetor set her down before the mass and Lamia immediately slipped into the pool that had been set there for her. She immediately took a deep breath in with her gills and sighed softly, submerging herself briefly to rehydrate her scales before settling down and turning to Mother. She noticed that the pool was not quite large enough for her anymore, her tail having to hang out in the dry, cold, air, but she didn't really mind. All was right in the world, now, and she sent her gratitude and contentment through the connection for Mother to hear.