All Will Know Redemption [Worm Post-GM/MTG New Phyrexia]

[Haganeko]

The oil...it's..........



Responsible for this yeah.



Uh...I thought that Vraska was desparked to get her Compleated, but turns out it was something else.

Anyways the whole Vraska being already Compleat while the other Planeswalkers were rapidly converted during their failed invasion was more up to Elesh Norn being a specialist in that sort of thing and on a short notice. Like none of the Compleated Planeswalkers from that fight are like Tamiyo because they have a lot of their old flesh still.

I mean Vraska herself was just stuck in the Phyrexian equivalent of a snake sock.



I get Urabrask, but why Sheoldred?

Click to shrink...

Not the one who posted it, but Sheoldred is metal as hell, plus her Phyrexians are nostalgic.

 

[Kaernetron]

Favorite Praetors/MtG characters are Elesh Norn and Sheoldred.

Click to shrink...

On that note, a friend informed me (and I have to agree) the song Gateways by Dimmu Borgir perfectly describes Elesh Norn's thoughts while planning/getting ready for the invasion.
Keeping in mind the band's female vocalist rocks a look where you're unsure if she's thirty or 130, it's no wonder my friend became an instant fan of Phyrexia.

 

[w4terghost]

Honestly, Phyrexian Taylor strikes me as Mardu, passion/ambition/unity.

 

[Zangunaz]

A/N: I've created a helpful little timeline of New Phyrexia to help everyone wrap their head around WotC's myriad plotlines and provide some context. Go check it out under informational posts!

CW: Memory loss, corpses.
-

I swung my arm, and watched in increasing frustration as the lash of black energy broke apart on the rock like water tossed from a bucket.

"Maybe…" Anara hummed from behind me.

"No, I'm doing something wrong." I muttered as I turned to lean against a nearby tree, the rough texture a welcome distraction. It was some strange cross between a willow and an oak, with chunks of oily metal interspersed randomly between stretches of bark.

The caravan had paused at a small grove so that everyone could get some brief rest, and cook up a few meals that were a little more fortifying than ration bars. Even with sleep being a thing of the past, we did still get tired after hours upon hours of exertion. The break was nice.

What wasn't nice, was my seeming inability to make any progress whatsoever with my magic.

It had been an hour, and even with Arana instructing me on what little she knew of magical theory I was still completely stuck. I thought back over the lecture in my mind's eye.

"Phyrexia has innovated greatly upon magical theory over the last few decades, although I regret to say I've not learned much since my initial training some time ago."

She cleared her throat, and gestured widely with her hands.

"New Phyrexia is orbited by five glorious suns, each infusing our world with a different aspect. It is by drawing upon these aspects and giving it a purpose within one's mind that one may… perform magic." She had said, before holding her palm open.

I watched as embers began to flicker and dance between her fingers.

"They once went by many names, but these days they're generally referred to by the color in which they bathe New Phyrexia's surface. You'll quickly learn that the inhabitants of each sphere of New Phyrexia have each taken to venerating one Sun in particular over all the others, though I've known some individuals to dabble in the power of several, if they have the capacity. The shape of your mind, how you think; this is a huge factor in which Suns you can call upon. With that said, it is uncommon for incompleat persons such as ourselves to be able to wield the power of even one."

A flash of fire as the sparks turned to flame, carefully dancing around her flesh.

"The Red Sun is where I draw my own humble abilities from, and that alignment is why my magic manifests as fire, heat, and light. Or, well, perhaps it's the other way around. As I said, it's been awhile."

She had gone on to show me some basic mental techniques, and while she answered as many of my questions as she could I was still left with far too many unknowns.

Though I somewhat resented the fact, I evidently drew heavily upon the Black Sun, a dire thing whose magic trended towards the violent and the malign. According to Anara it even allowed for necromancy, which I was admittedly somewhat reluctant to attempt.

When asking about why it was so easy to summon the energy into existence despite its impossibility to command, Anara had explained that I was likely being aided by the local environment, as the Dross Pits were particularly suffused with the Black Sun's power. Reportedly black magic was very commonly used in this sphere, and one way or another the entire layer had become a sort of… collection tray for the Black Sun's radiance.

Unfortunately, she hadn't known any magical techniques beyond what she personally utilized, and those quickly proved useless when attempting to guide my own black magic or otherwise anything beyond red magic.

Several attempts were made to draw upon "mana" of each color, although all but black proved futile, as if hard to reach or even conceptualize in some cases. Anara assured me that as I traveled I'd find areas soaked in the power of each sun, and I'd perhaps have better luck trying that respective "flavor" of magic then.

Eventually, or so she claimed, I would grow accustomed enough to draw upon a Sun's energy no matter where I was.

And that brought me back to my unfortunately impotent black magic.

It seemed to refuse my every command, dissolving infuriatingly into thin air the moment I tried to direct it. The fact that my building frustration seemed to lend some stability to the energy only made me more frustrated as it still seemed far too brittle to use reliably.

Another attempt shattered on impact. I was definitely going about this the wrong way.

I kicked the mud, my mind back in the present, and only succeeded in getting it all over my shoes.

"I'm sorry I cannot be of more help." Anara apologized. "We could perhaps ask around the caravan if anyone else is learned in the arts."

I shrugged. "Worth a try I suppose. And thanks regardless." She nodded and paused for a moment like she wanted to say something.

"Yes?" I asked.

"There's probably a little stew left, if you want me to go and get some for you."

I shook my head, then looked back at the ground as she left with a brief nod. I wasn't hungry.

I supposed I had been spoiled by my previous power. While it had still contained plenty of depth in its use and techniques, it was nothing like this. This was like trying to wrangle a puddle of boiling water with your mind and then somehow turn it into ice. There were no built in instructions, no instinctual use.

Though, as the thought passed through my head, maybe that wasn't entirely true.

When we had come under attack while escaping the scrapyard, the power had come almost too easily.

I remembered back, finding the recollection surprisingly clear. It was somewhat worrying that my memory should improve on the whole while at the same time recollections of my life on Earth were for one reason or another growing increasingly hazy. I made a mental note to start a journal, write down as much as I could in case my old memories ever just… faded away in their entirety. The thought roiled in my mind, stirring up fear. Hopefully that wasn't going to be the case.

But either way, yes, the fight. I replayed it over and over in my head, and surely enough, a familiar feeling began to emerge. That taste of desperate, bittersweet longing. That hunger for more, for anything more than this. For the power required to have even a chance at fixing things.

I needed that power now, and as the sensation grew within me I found that same sensation of cold, tarry energy building in the core of my being.

In the heat of the moment shaping it felt even easier than before, rising from my skin as writhing tendrils, and now I just had to-

-had to-

…Do what, exactly? There was no threat before me, and I didn't desire to kill even an imaginary foe unless I had to. I wanted to do better.

The energy fell apart again, misting off of my arms and pooling into a shadowy mass upon the ground, where it swiftly evaporated.

I cursed, and balled my one remaining fist. Why did I have to be saddled with this?! Why was I doomed to receive nothing but the most evil powers imaginable? Surely there was a less harmful, non-lethal use of this magic. I… I just needed to find it. Yes. This was good. Despite my failure, I had made progress.

I'd have to keep practicing; have to keep learning how to shape my thoughts to make the uncooperative energy actually listen to me.

"You're making fast work of it." A voice came from behind me.

I whipped around, and glared into the darkness. Olleon stood some twenty feet away, leaning against a particularly withered looking tree. Lin was perched upon his arm, staring at me from the dark with her single blue eye.

"Don't startle me like that." I grunted.

He nodded apologetically, and began to tromp over on his new legs.

I sighed. "You wouldn't happen to have any magical experience?"

"I cannot say that I do."

I squinted. "Then how can you say I'm making fast work of it?"

He laughed, a grating metallic undertone beneath his voice. "Because it's a nice thing to say, and because I want to see where this goes. Must I have more reasons?"

I huffed, and turned back to the forest as he tromped up behind me, metallic feet sinking loudly into the muddy earth.

"Come. We should get back to the caravan. Sitting out here in the cold will bring you only further frustration."

I sighed inwardly. He was right, after all. Burning myself out would aid nobody in the long run, least of all those I wanted to protect. Lin hopped over onto my shoulder and chittered warmly, finishing off the last of my wavering spite. Fine.

I turned, and together we trudged our way back through the mud, two little specks in the darkness between the trees.

…

Another day passed with Ish'Sah squatting on the horizon like a bloated tick, never seeming to get any closer. A small storm drizzled Necrogen down onto the trail, before drifting away over the horizon, leaving us hiding under makeshift overhangs or handmade blankets that sizzled at its poisonous touch.

Conversation slowly began to trail off, as everyone grew tired of the same few topics and it wasn't long before we marched in near silence.

I appreciated the quiet. It was almost meditative, in a way I hadn't felt in ages. Just silently marching through the dark, only the sounds of those trekking quietly beside me to keep me company.

Over the long hours, my mind wandered back to my magic, and then drifted further into contemplation.

What were the other colors of magic like? Anara had had little to say outside of her own limited expertise with her own magic, and while some of the details of using red magic resonated with me, I wasn't quite sure it clicked, so to speak.

Would any of them ever answer to me like black magic did? I could certainly hope, although I had no reliable way of knowing till I arrived in a location that resonated with a relevant Sun. Just one more reason to explore the world, I supposed.

All of it made me feel small. Just a single ant in a massive uncaring colony. Marching in a line alongside my fellows, searching for a peace I would probably never find. I'd have to make it, if anything.

I looked to my side, noting my companions.

Who were they, and what had brought them all the way here? What had they been through before I had crashed into their lives? A quiet part of me even wondered who they had been before New Phyrexia. There had been a whole different world here before, after all. I thought back to what Anara had mentioned before.

Mirrodin.

How much of it still lived on in what it had become?

How much of me was still here, with my fading memories and blackened veins?

I supposed it was a pointless question. I was still alive, despite it all, despite everything I had been through. I had a goal, a purpose. And hell, even the Taylor of last week was a far cry from the Taylor who'd hid in the bathroom during school lunch all those years ago. It felt like a lifetime. Maybe it was.

I supposed ultimately, the distinction didn't matter. It was all just different degrees of change. I was still here. Still fighting.

In a way, one could probably argue that Mirrodin was still here as well, even if few could remember it.

I kicked at a rock thoughtfully, sending it clattering off the side of the metallic road. This had all been terraformed, relocated. Where had this land been before? Had Mirrodin even had layers? The thought was almost too much to consider. All that work…

Murmuring from up ahead broke me out of my thoughts, and I realized the column had come to a halt. I looked around, and locked eyes with Olleon, who nodded in shared concern. Anara seemed to have already moved ahead into the crowd.

We moved up through the line, the throng getting thicker the further forward we went.

Finally I broke through to the other side, and saw what had caused the pileup.

Strewn across the road were the shredded remains of a military force. A tattered banner of the same design as the army we'd narrowly avoided stuck out of the mud at an odd angle by the roadside, held in place by a mangled corpse.

In the center of the road, surrounded by at least ten mutilated bodies lay the husk of a large creature not dissimilar to our own pack-crab. Its cargo had been torn apart, scattered to the ground by whatever had attacked the regiment.

Daean had stepped forward, and was kneeling by a large armored corpse draped in red, sinuous banners. Anara stood just behind him, staring out into the swamp with concern.

I hurriedly jogged past Calliex who was busy reassuring the crowd, and approached the others.

"What the hell happened here?" I mumbled as I approached.

"I'm not sure I want to know." Anara replied, staring out into the woods for a moment longer before turning to face me.

"This was an armed supply convoy, as far as I can tell." She paused, and swept her eyes over the scene. "I don't think it was a particularly fair fight."

"No arrows, corpses mangled…"Olleon observed, slowly loping up behind me.

"Hells…" Daean swore quietly as he finally managed to roll the knightly corpse over.

An enormous hunk of half rotted serpentine tail lay on the ground, seemingly lopped off by the nameless knight before their untimely demise.

"...a harvester." He finished.

He swore again, and then climbed to his feet as more of the caravan approached.

"Make camp! Double the watch! We can't afford to leave this scrap behind." He shouted, before storming over to talk to Calliex.

I eyed the treeline. "Harvester?"

Anara nodded, looking somewhat pale. "Monsters, native to the Dross."

"I've had the poor luck to witness a harvester attack in the past, though to my understanding they've grown increasingly rare as the Thanes continue to hunt the last of them down." Olleon provided, steepling his two left hands as his right picked a small sword off of the ground, and then continued.

"Think… about the size of a small building, a long serpentine lower body, sharpened scythes for hands, and a gaping maw atop its back, into which it deposits its prey. I'm quite sure I only survived the encounter because it was busy with the rest of the caravan."

He clacked his teeth together, in what I could only assume was regret, and Anara piped up.

"My… village told horror stories about them when I was a kid, if that helps. They're not nice. I don't think we could take one, even if it's already wounded." She provided, gesturing back to the decapitated chunk of tail.

"If we're lucky, it will be full for a while yet. Hungry ones don't usually leave bodies." Olleon reassured.

I knelt down and placed my palm on the smooth, scaly flesh, the meat barely clinging to an underlayer of gleaming steel cables weaving their way through taut musculature. A stench of rotting meat wafted off it in waves, though with the omnipresent reek of the swamp it wasn't actually that much worse.

That wasn't the curious part, however. "How did this thing end up with so much metal in it? Were these surgically altered for use in the war?" I asked.

Anara laughed. "Even before Phyrexia, everything on this world had some natural metal, and some had more than others. When the Oil begins its work and Phyresis takes hold, it reacts powerfully to metal, influences it, much more than it can flesh."

She paused, then continued, gesturing to me. "It's like your sealed over head wound; the Oil likely warped some metal that was naturally a part of you and used it to seal the hole."

Huh? But I wasn't Mirran, I didn't have-

I stilled, and my hand came up to my left shoulder, rubbing it tenderly.

No, it couldn't have..

It was hard to tell, but right where Flechette's metal bolt had fused itself into my shoulder I thought I could feel a small indent, as if some material was missing. I wasn't sure how much I liked the implication that one of my older, stupider mistakes had perhaps saved my life.

From what I'd been told by Anara during the march, the Oil could very much reanimate the dead as new Phyrexians, though that didn't seem like a particularly kind fate. If there hadn't been enough metal in my body to seal the two head wounds…

Well, not worth thinking about.

I stood up.

People had already begun to disperse around the scene, setting up camp even as others crowded around the corpses.

I looked down at my stump, and then back at one of the fallen knight's surprisingly lithe arms.

Olleon gave me a knowing look, and I shrugged, pulling out my makeshift knife. "It's worth a try."

…

The armored limb rattled quietly on my hip as I helped a handful of others secure a large bag of body parts to the last unoccupied side of the pack-crab. The creature groaned unappreciatively under the weight but didn't buck it off, which I was thankful for.

"That should be the last of it." Daean muttered, brushing his oily hands off on his clothing.

"Efficient work people, great job! Now let's get packed up and back on the road!" Calliex called out from the other side of the pack crab.

Well, that was that. Now to prepare for another few days of nonstop walking, judging by Ish'Sah's proximity on the horizon. I wished I had a book to read.

"Aye, not many of those still around, well, unless you're into reading about Phyrexia." Daean laughed, falling in beside me.

Had I thought that out loud? Maybe the repetitiveness of the trip really was getting to me. "Honestly at this point I'll take anything." I replied.

He grinned. "For all that it's brought us together, Phyrexia has unfortunately ruined the storytelling industry. The 200th retelling of our Great Conquest of the Plane is enjoyable for sure, but I wish I could get my hands on some of my old books." He sighed. "The whole city I lived in has probably been torn down and rebuilt by now. And that's assuming I can even remember where it was."

Calliex stepped on over and placed a spindly hand on Daean's shoulder. "He can't."

Daean chuckled again and looked up. "Unfortunate, that, but it's still worth the tradeoff if it means I get to spend eternity with you."

I wasn't sure if compleat Phyrexians could blush, and if they could Calliex held no answers.

"We went and searched, believe it or not. The region it was in hadn't yet been terraformed, though unfortunately we couldn't find it."

Daean slapped him lightly on the arm. "Eh, it was a shot in the dark anyway. The important bit is that we tried."

I cleared my throat. "Actually, I've got a question that's somewhat related."

They nodded curiously, and I continued. "How… How bad does the memory loss get?"

Calliex's eyes widened. "Oh, are you recently blessed? You must be so confused, I'm sorry." He looked over my outfit again, as if seeing it in a new light.

"To answer your question, it varies from person to person." Daean stated. "I remember little of my past life, though I've talked with others who still can recall most of theirs, even decades after becoming Phyrexian. You still have yours, yes?"

I nodded, remembering my ongoing amnesia bluff. Best keep it vague. "I awoke with memory loss due to a head injury I received before I was touched by the Oil, though what little I recall is already getting foggier." I tried thinking back to my time with the Undersiders and found it even blurrier than before.

I could still recall their faces at least, which was reassuring, although the circumstances were beginning to blur. Had we captured Lung before or after robbing the bank? Who had fought us outside, after I had taken the bank staff hostage? Was it the Wards, or New… Wave?

It was slipping through my fingers and I hated it.

"Do either of you have something to write on? I'd like to preserve as much as I can."

Calliex eyed me with something like concern, though Daean seemed to ponder for a moment before replying. "Well I can't very well tell you no, now can I? I believe we have a few spare inscription tablets lying around somewhere, I'll see if I can't get you one as well as a stylus."

He turned away but Calliex met my gaze with a level stare. "Do be careful, Taylor. Our disposition isn't well shared with the rest of the world. I wouldn't go asking these kinds of questions anywhere else. Leave the past in the past, and keep that tablet well hidden."

And with that, he turned to follow his partner, and trudged away into the crowd.

Leave the past in the past, huh? I couldn't even lie, in a horrifying way it was almost tempting. To just let all my scars fade away, live for the present, fight only my current fight.

And it would be easy, too. I had wanted a fresh start after all, hadn't I?

A fresh start.

Cut ties. I'm sorry.

A small bitter smile played on my lips. And that strategy had worked out so well for me in the past.

I looked around, trying to spot any of my companions. Hopefully Phyrexian was easy to write left-handed.

 

[Twei]

I'm sure they won't have to deal with a harvester anytime soon. /jk

I like Taylor's moments of self-recrimination, and her consciously trying not to repeat her past mistakes, even while, y'know, being brainwashed by oil and stuff. She manages to be Taylor, post-GM taylor, and Phyrexian Taylor all at once, which is no small feat of writing IMO.

 

[w4terghost]

Interesting, Taylors power feels like either deathtouch and/or lifelink.

It has that "Conflict is required" aspect I would associate with combat keywords.
Tho it might just be a left over from before.

Also, the comment about red not quite 'clicking' likely means she isn't Mardu (or at least this version of her isn't, perhaps character growth will change that).

 

[MadRatSly]

This story is just so, so cool. There's shockingly little MTG fanfiction, particularly of this quality. I stopped playing the game years ago after getting fed up with it but the various planes were always so captivating to me. Its so bloody cool getting this perspective on Phyrexia, and I'm so excited to see how Taylor develops here. I'd put money on Black-White but I'm happy to be proven wrong! Keep up the fantastic work

 

[Zangunaz]

CW: Racism, Violence, Trauma, and Death.





"I wouldn't recommend it."

I turned, tearing my eyes from the ominous fortress before us.

Olleon loomed large just to my side. Even his slightly shorter replacement legs left him an imposing six and a half feet tall, at least.

"What?" I said defensively.

"You were thinking about it. I wouldn't recommend it."

I sighed, and rubbed my shoulder.

Over a week of walking through the swamp, with the only change in scenery being the occasional crossroads and the shadow of the massive fortress-city growing larger on the horizon. But no longer.

We were finally here.

From our view at the foot of its bulk and with our position close enough to bypass the veil of necrogen fog that had previously shrouded it, I could finally get a decent look at the place.

It was effectively a mountain, if that mountain had been hollowed out by some massive species of wasp and turned into a nest. Massive porous structures rose from the slope or jutted from the interior walls of the cavernous maw that loomed from the side of the mound. Columns of green smoke rose out of pockmarked holes in the side of its smoothed over metallic slope, just preludes to the immense volcano-like crater at the top. Further fumes billowed from that, forming a sickly cloud above the fortress. Exhaust vents for some industrial process or another, I assumed. The acrid taste in the air had grown stronger, accordingly.

The caravan had crossed through the main gate about half an hour back, and since then we'd been marching up curved, winding roads, growing ever closer to the mountain proper.

There were many more incompleat here than even in Ze'il, almost overflowing the streets with their numbers as they hurried to and fro, shrouded in simple robes or clothen rags.

One such humanoid brushed past me as I stared back at Olleon. We were currently waiting, a small cluster of local laborers offloading our caravan's morbid haul in return for payment of some sort.

Evidently currency was in use in some places in New Phyrexia, though it seemed very improvisational compared to what I was used to, and some amount of bartering was involved judging from the ongoing argument some ways into the building.

"I don't really see many alternatives." I replied, honestly. "I need to somehow make my way down to the Basilica. It's not like I can just go around asking people."

It occurred to me that I still hadn't told Anara of my intentions. But well, as she had said, she was a loner. I doubted she would miss me. I couldn't deny it was unfortunate however that we were splitting up so soon after meeting. It had been nice to have someone to show me the ropes when I was so out of my depth.

"The Basilica, hm?" He stared down at me, and then laughed, a wheezing clacking thing as air erupted from the vents on his chest.

"Serendipitous indeed. I'm headed the same way for my latest contract."

I looked him up and down. He seemed serious. "Weren't you just warning me not to take a contract?"

He looked back over his hunched shoulders at the rest of the caravan. I noted the two bulb capped tendrils rising from the back of his head remained trained on me. "I've been working Geth's contracts in the Dross for most of my conscious existence. It serves to keep my wandering mind occupied, and…" He paused, hesitation plain on his face.

"The people here seem to understand me far more than those in the layer from which I originated. These tasks allow me to help ensure their continued sanctuary."

He turned back to me, his piercing cerulean eyes searching mine. "It is however a poor excuse to further the man's other aims. Hence, I would not recommend it. Especially if we can attain both of our goals with one contract alone."

Fair enough, I supposed. "I appreciate it. It'll be a lot safer to get by in a group."

But I couldn't help but wonder how much saving him from being taken apart had impacted his decision. He hadn't even asked why I was going there, nor mentioned whatever his own goal was.

It was suspicious, to say the least, but it was also incredibly helpful. I… well. I had been about to run off alone again, like always. I couldn't fix myself if I kept running from my problems.

"Then the deal is sealed. I will meet with my agent to collect the reward for the previous contract and confirm a safe route for the next, then we will make our way to the domain of the Mother of Machines. I've not been in some time, but I hear she's been busy."

I nodded in reply. The arguing seemed to have finally stopped inside the small building and the workers had just about finished unloading all the body parts.

Anara stood off to the side, chatting with Calliex about something unimportant.

I supposed it was time to say my goodbyes. My share of the haul was currently strapped to the side of my hip, and the caravan had nothing else for me to help with. As tempting as it was to quit my ambitions and live the quiet life guarding their caravan, to do that would be to forsake all others. It would be to take the easy way out. Even after all this time, I couldn't allow that of myself, not when the hard way stood good odds of helping so many more.

Perhaps in some distant dimension where I never gained these powers I could have happily chosen that life, but no. I could feel the power even now, hovering in the atmosphere; coiled around my gut like a snake silently awaiting a command, slippery and rebellious as it was.

A flickering memory came to me, of a similar dream in the distant past, of a house, and kids. An escape from the suffering of my youth, from my previous powers.

I closed my eyes, a cool breeze washing over me.

Some things just weren't meant to be.

The thought was still echoing in my head as I rejoined the group.

"Taylor!" Anara called as I approached.
"There you are. I wanted to talk to you about something!"

I grimaced inwardly,keeping my face straight. "Yes?"

She pursed her lips, and then smiled. "I missed you. You just up and vanish into thin air far too often." She cleared her throat. "Have you started writing in your journal?"

"I have, though it's hard to tell if it's actually helping or not." The small tablet currently sat in my flightpack's storage, alongside a stylus that had some kind of inlaid power to carve into it, exuding a red glow as it did.

I had first started by inscribing the names of everyone who I could remember in a vast list from most important to least important, but then after some thought had pivoted to writing down the major events of my first life from beginning to end. My recall had thankfully not gotten any worse than it was a few days ago, at least insofar as I could tell.

But well, the issue was I really couldn't tell. How do you know if something has been lost when its very loss prevents any contextual recall?

And after all, the human mind had long been inefficient and prone to forgetfulness before I became Phyrexian. How could I tell if my inability to remember something was a simple recall issue from my flawed, organic mind, or something more frightening?

Anara nodded. "It may already be abating then, which is good. The past is the key to the future, it would be a tragedy to lose what little you have left."

Calliex looked around, eyes carefully skimming over a patrol of enforcers. "You should know better than to openly talk like that, even here."

She shrugged, and Calliex squinted at her. "Oh I know, I just don't really care. How can we collectively chart a course for the future if we don't take everything into account? It'd be like walking with one eye closed. Particularly apt for you in fact, Mr. Always Looking Backwards."

Calliex bared his teeth, his other eye presumably scanning the crowd behind him. "I don't disagree with you, you know that. I just think saying that in public is a needless risk. You could get people hurt, and not just yourself."

"Fine fine, you're right." Anara sighed, holding her hands up, before turning towards me. "I've been meaning to ask you something. Do you want to accompany me up to the Quiet Furnace? I could use the help, and we'll likely pass a lot of people on the way who could help you learn magic. Could also stop at the surgical bays on the way up for an upgrade or two; they have plenty of independent surgeons and specialists who could fix your arms up."

Why did she have to make it so tempting? Too many of my future plans relied on figuring out if any of the various factions were worth a damn. I had to see for myself, avoid any potentially biased information. If I went with her I'd likely have to backtrack for months just to check off the last of my list.

I paused. These… these all just felt like excuses, and poor ones at that. The more I thought about it the more I felt something deeper.

Something about the Basilica just called to me. A pale light from below, frightening in its intensity. Even if they didn't practice the Unity they supposedly preached, I had to know for myself. I had to.

I shook my head slowly. "I'm sorry, but I have to visit the Basilica first. I've already struck a deal with Olleon for traveling there." I paused. "You could come along with us, if you want."

I wasn't even halfway through the first sentence when her expression began to harden, her eyes conflicted.

She clicked her tongue, pushing back off of the railing she had been leaning on, and looking out into the crowd. "Well unfortunately, I cannot afford a delay."

A momentary flicker of warmth passed through her eyes as her vision flicked back over me.

"I wish you luck in your endeavors. Goodbye!" She said, and strode off into the crowd without so much as a backwards glance.

I stared. Had I read the situation wrong?

Calliex's eyes followed her off into the crowd before turning to look at me, grimacing slightly. "I've ah, got something for you, before you leave. Was going to give her one too, but it seems I should have spoken up sooner."

After a moment, one of his many hands unfolded from behind his back and I could see it was palming three small grey ingots.

"Steel, high grade. Most professions require it in some form, so it's always in demand. One for each of you, though now the third is for you and Olleon to split as desired."

I raised my eyebrows. "Are you sure? I can give two to Olleon but I've already taken my share of the labor." I said, placing my remaining palm on the armored limb tied to my side.

He nodded. "This was a huge windfall, and there's plenty to go around so we're happy to share." He eyed the limb and then my lack of one. "You should be able to get that stitched on with one of these as payment. If someone asks for any more they're trying to take advantage of you. Ah, and if you're not against the idea it may not be a bad move to spend another getting voicebox implants. That will be valuable in the other spheres, I assure you."

A spark of warmth flickered in my chest. Perhaps it was the memory loss, but I could hardly remember the last time I felt appreciated. And for so little, as well. It felt nice. I took the small, flat ingots, just able to hold all three in one hand. They felt surprisingly light with my newfound strength.

"Thank you. It's appreciated." I said earnestly.

"You should be able to find someone here in the marketplace to do that for you, it's simple work when you already have the new part on hand."

He looked back at the pack-crab, now fully unloaded.

"We'll be staying in Ish'Sah until all this rebellion business blows over, but after that it'll be back to our usual movements. Come find us if you're ever in the area again. We can sit down, share a few stories of our respective travels."

"I'd like that." I nodded, wanting to say more, yet frustratingly unable to. I'd never been good with goodbyes.

I hoped it wouldn't be the last time I saw them. It may have been people that ruined the world, but if so it was also people that made the world worth living in in the first place.

….

It hadn't taken long to find someone to attach my new arm.

A quick trip to the marketplace had secured a month's worth of ration bars, a few necessary travel supplies, and most importantly, provided a resolution to both my missing limb situation as well as my enunciation one.

I had been skeptical for many reasons, but after the needle-fingered, faceless peddler of a surgeon agreed to let Olleon observe I had pushed away my remaining fears and let them do their work, trusting that surgery was a common Phyrexian service. I did end up insisting upon staying awake for the brief and surprisingly painless procedure, out of an abundance of caution.

After all, it was just an arm graft and a small implant. It wasn't as if I was losing anything. Arguably I was gaining quite a lot. My organic voice would give me away in the other spheres, leaving me unable to enunciate our language properly.

Some time later We had exited their somewhat ramshackle surgical camp, and made our way further uphill, towards the towering citadel looming from within the mountain's hollow.

Wind blew over the hilltop, catching on our new robes and rolling away into the lower city.

"I've always wondered how it felt, taking your first step." Olleon's voice was barely audible over the shearing wind and the background hum of the city.

I looked down at my new arm, and flexed my fingers, the remnants of nerve aches running down the limb. I'd been told they would fade rapidly.

Where once there had been nothing but a ghostly sensation of a former limb, now there was metal, and bone. One step closer to Compleation. It felt good, despite my misgivings.

Better than getting my arm healed ever had, in fact. It was almost euphoric.

I held my hand up and examined it. Surprisingly lithe despite its armored carapace, the metallic black chitin of my new limb ran comfortably down from where it joined with the flesh of my shoulder, across a surprisingly flexible armored elbow joint, and down to my gauntlet-like hand.

I flexed it again, and flipped it over. The palm was a smooth contrast to the slightly rougher texture of the back, and the fingers terminated in sharpened points. Muscled, bright red flesh sat in the joints between chitinous plates, giving it a nice contrast. From a bit of prodding, the fleshy parts seemed to be just about as durable as the plates sitting atop them.

"It feels good." I replied as we crossed under an overhang, my voice sounding slightly alien to my ears. Still mine, just a touch metallic, especially now that I could easily produce the metallic scraping and clacking sounds required by our language.

Around us, passers-by hurried through the shadows of the sloped street, uncaring of the two travelers bundled up in grey robes. "Though what do you mean? You're compleat, aren't you?"

He nodded, a strange grimace on his face. "I was grown in a vat with other newts, and compleated shortly after attaining consciousness. I imagine your experience is rather unique vs mine, coming from a whole life lived."

Had I lived a whole life? Through the blur it felt like one giant fight, neverending. My childhood was a distant mirage of innocence, easily pierced.

"I wouldn't know." I said instead.

He hummed. "Ah, my apologies. Anara told me about your amnesia. Perhaps then we are kin, in a way."

I sighed, after a pause. "I had hoped we would have been able to remain as a group longer."

He emitted a clicking noise from deep in his throat, perhaps a kind of laugh. "It was perhaps inevitable. I could not have gone her way, she could not have gone mine. I didn't get much from her during the last few days, but from what I understand she has given herself a mission."

I moved back out into the street as the crowd temporarily cleared, Olleon following just behind. "Do you think she had another contract, like you?" I shouted through the hubbub.

He shook his head in my peripheral vision. "There was a unique determination in her eyes. I think she was waiting for this for a long while, and besides, Geth rarely has a need for contracts outside of the Dross. My current mission in the Basilica is somewhat of an exception, to my knowledge."

I nodded, shoving other thoughts to the back of my mind. Just another regret to add to the pile.

"What would that exception involve, exactly?" I asked.

He shrugged. "I cannot speak directly of it; it is prohibited by my terms."

I stared at my companion. Did I actually trust him? We'd only been working together for a week or so, and while the skeletal Phyrexian seemed trustworthy enough, I wasn't sure I liked how tightlipped he was being, whether he could help it or not.

I folded my arms. "Is there nothing you can tell me? I don't like going into things blind."

Lin scuttled out from under his chestplate, her one blue robotic eye glowing curiously.

"I can tell you that you won't be at risk outside of normal concerns for the region; the actual task will require me and only me. Geth's agents will also be providing disguises, so that we will not be harangued during the task. This should make the trip safer than if you went without me." He clicked his teeth together, then continued. "The Basilica is welcoming of outsiders, but not in a way that would be ideal for either of us."

"And they'll have a spare disguise for me?"

He nodded. "I've already sent notice that I may be bringing help. They will be prepared."

The background noise of the city rose over our dying conversation, and we continued our uphill climb.

Soon we had passed through the gateway, and stood inside the vast hive that was Geth's Palace. Vast, vaulted ceilings pulled at the roof of every chamber, waterfalls of glowing necrogen casting a green light over the vast halls. The traffic steadily abated, neat bureaucratic lines pulling the masses away in every direction as Olleon led me deeper.

Finally, he rounded the corner into a smaller side chamber, another waiting room of sorts. Obsidian statues of supplicants sat in orderly ranks against the walls, and a large icon of a circle with a vertical slash through it was emblazoned on the far wall. A small crowd of idling visitors filled the room, waiting their turn to be called upon by one of the many limbed spider-like creatures manning a series of desks in each corner.

"Here we are." He gestured to a far desk with a comparatively short line.

"I'll let them know I've arrived. You can wait here, it will only be a minute." He said, and hurried off into the crowd. I sidled over to the far wall, taking in the room.

I was unsure if Phyrexian cities had specific downtimes, considering the lack of a need to sleep, but it seemed we were currently nearing a small break. As the minutes wore on, few people trickled in and many more filtered out of the chamber. I tuned out the other noise, listening instead to the wind blowing through the tendon-like rafters. More time passed, and the lines grew smaller.

But something was wrong.

Increasing sounds of a commotion drew my attention to the adjacent corridor, and evidently I wasn't the only one concerned.

The few guards stationed about the room jumped into action, blades bristling, and began to shove their way through the crowd towards the source of the disturbance.

A clash of metal and a gurgling scream echoed down the hall, and some of the remaining Phyrexians began to find their way out via various side corridors, eyes downcast in panic, even as others ignored the commotion in a hurry to finish their business

I looked around the room for Olleon. Where was he? Not at the desk he'd been at just a moment ago.

My eyes scanned the far end of the room over the remaining crowd. There! A few desks over Olleon stood, talking with a representative. I went to move, turning to look back towards the door as I did in case whatever the hell was going on out there found its way in here. Further clanging and the sound of something falling over echoed into the room.

And then I froze, eyes locked on a figure in the thinning crowd, just twenty feet away. Easily eight feet tall, despite his hunch.

What were the fucking odds?

I made to turn away, pull up my cloak and cover my face, but it was already too late.

Gleaming red eyes bored into me from beneath a tattered hood. A few spindly knife-limbs lifted off his back and twitched in surprise. He started to move towards me.

Fear filled my mind, training and experience shoving it down moments later. I had to escape. The guards were gone, and in that moment, staring into his murderous eyes I knew without a doubt that if he reached me I was dead; no matter who saw or what would happen to him afterwards. Olleon was too far away to help, and I doubt he could do much even if he was close.

"Olleon!" I shouted, and then turned back to see the centipede man had already begun closing distance despite all the people in the way.

Fuck! Fuck!

I turned, and bolted, running for one of the other side doors that the crowd had recently dispersed through. I careened through the archway, slamming into a tall humanoid individual who shoved me to the side, scoffing as they did.

Guards, I had to find guards, but they'd all gone past him out the door. I'd have to try to loop around, find help or otherwise just escape. I was under no illusion that I stood any chance at beating him in the current moment. I was so tired of running.

I hurried further down the hallway towards where I had seen a few people just exit, looking behind me just in time to see his jawless head peek around the corner, cheeks upturned in a hideous rictus.

I didn't trust in my lacking magic or my new arm to be able to win a direct battle, not against someone that could slice me to pieces from five feet away, no matter how many limbs he'd lost a week ago. I briefly considered a repeat of my previous strategy of putting someone large in between me and him, but dismissed it. No one big enough nearby, and the remaining crowd was already rapidly dispersing. Let alone that the idea of putting a civilian between me and a murderer left a sour taste in my mouth.

A staircase on the left provided my next exit, winding upwards and depositing me in another small hallway, running perpendicular to the last one. A small group of Phyrexians hurried through a far door, leaving the hallway empty. I broke into a full sprint.

A metallic cackle rose from behind me, as a number of limbs hauled my pursuer up the side rail.

"I honestly can't believe my luck!" A quiet pneumatic hiss punctuated the end of his sentence.

Remembering he had some kind of ranged weapon, I dodged to the side. A small bladed projectile shot past me, nearly slicing into my exposed neck.

"I'd given up on finding you, you know. So much time and effort you'd cost me, before just slinking away like nothing happened. Infuriating. What was I to do but try to recoup my losses with a bounty contract?"

No time to make it to the end of the corridor, he was gaining on me far too fast. The sound of twenty or so knife-like feet scratched against the stone floor behind me in a staccato rhythm. Feet pounding, I turned hard left into a small maintenance door that I desperately hoped wasn't a closet.

Instead, I was met with a tight maintenance stairwell, leading even further upwards. This was getting worse by the second, but I had no recourse. There wasn't even a door I could shut to block him off.

"-so imagine my surprise when I find you here of all places, waiting for me so patiently." His grating, clacking voice echoed around the corner.

I crested the top of the stairs and stumbled out into a tight black tunnel, small channels of necrogen on the left and right of the floor lighting the way to a tight 90 degree turn. Where were we going?

Question unanswered, I hurled myself forward as fast as I could, and looked inward, pulling for that sensation deep in my being. I needed magic, or I was dead.

The blackened power within me flitted into life, but it was just a wisp, nowhere near enough for what I needed. I had to focus, draw more.

With a cackling hiss, he crashed into the tunnel behind me, legs scrunching up and shrinking their stride to avoid collisions in the tight confines.

"Trying this little strategy again? Tsk tsk…"

Nowhere to dodge, though I tried my best anyway.

Another pneumatic hiss sounded, and I stumbled as the projectile punched me hard in the back before clattering to the floor, unable to pierce through the spider silk but still plenty able to cause trauma.

Another hiss, this one angry. "What is that armor of yours made of, little fleshling?"

I reached again for my magic, my mind rolling through the thankfully clear memories of the recent days.

The vast marshland. Heaps of unprocessed refuse that used to be living, thinking beings. A quiet glade surrounded by shadowed trees, each pockmarked with oily metal.

The shadowy mass in my core grew, bubbling outward like a ball of boiling tar. A thought directed it up through my body and into my new hand.

This was life and death, as much as it hurt. I couldn't afford any other option. My chance at negotiation with the centipede man had died a week ago, in the junkyard.

Lucent black energy crackled down the limb and I did my best to keep it hidden from my target.

I turned slightly in the tight confines, and summoned as much lethal intent as I could muster. A streak of shuddering black energy arced down the corridor, fraying wildly as it went.

He reared back in surprise, unable to halt his momentum, but then barked a somewhat frightened laugh as the hostile magic frayed into sparks just a few feet short of hitting him. Fuck.

Not bothering to continue the one-sided banter just yet, he hurled himself back into motion.

Another failed casting… but it had given me some distance. I rounded the blind turn and burst through an open doorway, rapidly swiveling my head around the new room.

I was greeted by some kind of backroom maintenance shop. Various kinds of chitinous machinery lay in neat formations around the chamber, cast in darkness by the absence of lighting in the vaulted roof above. On the left side of the room sat a couple small piles of scrap, with workbenches flanking them on several sides.

I hurried forward, trying to find anything I could use as a weapon, but there was nothing. I was caught, prey trapped in a corner. Learned instinct drove me to use my power, call anything and everything in my radius to me, drown the immediate area in insects, but that mental lever no longer existed.

I was swiping at nothing, that field of stars gone. The darkness rebuilding in my core shuddered as if in reply, and a thought occurred to me. It was so obvious in retrospect that I couldn't believe I hadn't already tried. Could I rebuild my power, even a scrap of it, using magic?

Seeing no immediate exit from the workshop, I ducked, sliding quietly under a large workbench covered in glowing necrogen canisters.

But how would that work? Thus far during practice, I'd only thing I'd been able to do with any reliability was hurl the energy like a blunt weapon. Mind racing, I thought back to our escape from the junkyard.

My instinctual attack had been far from blunt. I'd been desperate, exhausted, and angry. The energy had whipped from me onto my target, and latched onto them somehow.

I thought about what little Anara had to say on black magic during our training. Her words echoed in my mind.

"To my knowledge, black magic deals with death above all else. Necromancy, destruction, and loss."

I still wasn't sure I believed in the soul, but my magic had latched itself onto something during the chase. More than just his flesh; I was certain.

The centipede man burst from the tunnel, jolting me out of my thoughts. A harsh noise filled the chamber as his knife-limbs dug into the stone in an effort to slow his momentum.

Rearing up to his full height, his hungering eyes swept the room, casting a dim red light across the workshop.

"Where are you, little vermin? No more surprises." He hissed into the darkness.

I could maybe draw this game of hide and seek out for a minute long at most. I closed my eyes.

Gone were the lights in the dark, the millions of insects under my control. They had gone with my passenger, and I knew somehow that they would never come back. But that didn't mean I couldn't recreate some little part of them, to draw upon previous experience.

I allowed the magic to settle, still and icy in my gut. What did it hunger for? Could it show it to me in a way I could comprehend?

A pinprick of light in the dark.

A little flickering ember of not-light, flitting this way and that beneath my eyelids. I could see it move, as the crash of an upended workbench and a hiss of rage echoed across the room. I focused on the light, watching intently as it expanded in my vision, slowly evaporating outward into a flickering cloud in the vague outline of a hunched body.

It was him. I could see some aspect of my foe, be it a lifeforce, a soul, or something else, but I could see it. I breathed out a quiet sigh of relief.

Now I just had to hurt it.

I measured my mana, and noted it was steadily draining from the focus. I drew once more upon my memories, the tarry blackness at my core bubbling outward again. My focus wavered as a blanket of exhaustion fell over my body and I cursed inwardly, ceasing my amassment.

Always a limitation. Why couldn't it ever be fucking easy?

How much more could I draw before it began to do me more harm than good? Going off how hard that exhaustion had hit, not much more at all.

Carefully crouching beneath the desk, I sidled backwards. I'd have to make this count. No more mana than what I'd already drawn.

My swarm would have made simple work of this entire encounter, if not just prevented it entirely, and I was rapidly growing annoyed at that old instinct. Once a strength, now nothing more than a distraction.

A clatter of metal on metal as another table was overturned a few feet away. I breathed out. I needed a diversion.

Still crouching, I slipped out from under the workbench and behind a nearby pile of scrap metal.

Peeking around the corner into the shadows, I could see his glowing red eyes sweep this way and that. His mandibles ran over each other in the dark, spraying sparks onto the ground.

I looked back at the low scrap pile, my eyes scanning its surface. I needed something soft and quiet, something that wouldn't trigger his suspicion.

There!

I gripped a small hunk of synthetic scrap-muscle in my new arm, the smooth texture pressing against my fingers, and tossed it underhand the second his head swayed to the right.

The chunk clattered quietly to the ground on the other side of the room, and he went dead silent.

His mandibles raked along each other like knives being sharpened, and then he burst into motion.

Skittering forward, his many limbs propelled him in a rush towards the source of the sound, and I rose from behind my cover, new arm outstretched. Black tendrils of hungering energy crept up my wrist and onto my hand, rapidly taking shape into the only form that had thus far shown results.

Whip like tendrils of shadow lifted into the air, anchored to my new hand, and surged forward like a swarm of ravenous flying leeches.

The wave of tendrils slammed into him from behind and he grunted in a mixture of surprise and rage, beginning to turn.

Doubts rose in my mind, but it was him or me, and this was the only tool I had. Terrified that any thought of sparing him would cause my spell to fall flat, I shoved any remaining thoughts to the side and pushed.

Crackling black energy rolled down the tendrils in a wave, and my foe stumbled back at the impact. His hood fell from his head, revealing pallid, hairless skin.

Red eyes flashing with a mixture of terror and rage, he leapt, rebounding from his flinch with the power of dozens of grafted limbs.

The sizable distance between us vanished in an instant. No time even to duck or dive out of the way, not with all of my focus captured by the spell. He was there, and then he was upon me.

There was no banter, no hatefully spitten slurs, just the frantic swinging of limbs and expelling of air as I tumbled backwards from his impact, his knife-limbs stabbing into me from every direction.

Each impact generated a shock of adrenaline muted pain, with most of them incapable of breaking my silk covered skin, but not all. Even more knives went for my neck, sluggish and delirious as death itself flowed into their owner. I brought my arms up to keep them off me, but they were swinging in from far too many angles for me to block. Blade after blade after blade sunk into my exposed upper neck, oil spurting.

I tumbled backwards in a controlled fall, training taking over as I planted my legs directly into his center of mass and heaved, aiding his momentum as he tumbled over me.

Blades ripped free from my skin, oil weeping from open wounds as he rolled forward, crashing into the far wall.

My tethers flickered and faltered, an instant from crumbling as darkness crowded the edges of my vision. My left hand came up to my neck as I lay on my back, keeping my head low. Trying to staunch the bleeding. Staunch the…

I had to..

Oil poured down my chest, a pool of it rapidly growing into a glistening halo surrounding my fallen form.

A tether collapsed, and then another. My eyes closed, for just a moment.

His outline flickered before me. A small candle in a sea of darkness, his essence no longer able to reach his extremities.

We were dying. A thought came to me and I almost laughed. Couldn't anyway, with Oil flooding my windpipe.

Phyrexians killing Phyrexians. Only loss, while our grand ideal drowned in our own blood.

A thought entered my dying mind, unbidden. What had he said, back when we first met?

Your parts will aid me in serving Lord Geth much more than they will aid you.

A pointless, selfish consolidation of resources…

My fading vision faded further. A single tether remained. Consolidation…

Maybe… two Phyrexians didn't have to die here. Just one.

Maybe I could pull as well as push.

The remaining tether glowed gold as I willed a change, pulling at that flickering energy instead of pushing roiling tar.

The fading flame that was rapidly fleeing him poured through our connection and into me. Strength trickled into my starving muscles and my vision began to clear, but that wasn't where it was needed. A tentative push moved the energy to my wounds, which to my immense relief began to slowly close.

Focusing on my one remaining tether as the last of my mana reserves burned away, I pulled and pulled until there was nothing left.

His body twitched, and then lay still.

For a moment I was simply content to sit there, just watching as my final tether crumbled into nothing, but then the screaming of my lungs rose to the forefront of my mind and I lurched up, coughing and retching and worse.

More Oil joined the pool on the ground, and I gasped in a few breaths of stagnant, foul air before slumping back to the floor, lying on my side. Silence descended.

My eyes came to rest on the motionless body lying against the wall. Breath in, and out. In, and out. Think about it later.

It could have been seconds, or minutes, but soon clanking footfalls began to echo into the room.

"Taylor? Taylor!" There was a brief moment of quiet as the footfalls entered the room and paused, followed shortly by hurried footsteps as Olleon rushed over. Lin leapt from his arm and came to rest on my own as he carefully checked over my half healed stab wounds.

"Are you alright? Can you speak?"

I nodded and coughed out an affirmative. "I've.. had worse, if you can believe it. I've stopped the bleeding."

He looked at me, and then at the slumped corpse against the other wall.

"You'll forgive me if I don't entirely believe you. Can you stand? How did you heal yourself?"

I sat up, and nodded. In reply, he reached down and carefully helped me to my feet. The edges of my vision grew dark for just a moment, but I remained dizzy and lightheaded.

I looked back at the centipede man's cooling corpse. "Magic. I… took his lifeforce, I think."

Just one more body weighing down my conscience.

He clicked repeatedly, somewhere deep in his throat. "This is my fault."

I shook my head. "No, it's mine. But it's over now. I don't think he had any allies, and if he did I doubt they'll go after us."

Silence descended once more and Olleon seemed to pause, collecting his thoughts. His hunched neck turned back towards the door. "We cannot leave just yet. I was instructed to meet with Geth before leaving."

The tyrant himself? I almost thought I misheard him in my fatigue. "Why would he meet with one of his contractors personally?"

"I have performed enough… high stakes contracts for the man that he now occasionally briefs me in person. I was hoping this would not be the case for this particular task."

I frowned. "You should have told me ahead of time."

He expressed what I assumed was a grimace. "Nonetheless, we must meet with him. The attendant neglected to provide several important details that I need to know for the task. Geth will have them."

I grimaced, remembering the earlier commotion that had led to this mess, and changed subject. "What do you think that fighting in the hall was about? Some kind of attack?"

He shook his head, the light of his own blue diodes reflecting off his plating. "I cannot say. After I heard your shout I grabbed my documentation and chased after you."

I nodded, and silence fell back over the dark chamber.

How long would it be before they discovered the corpse? It blended into the small piles of scrap, just a few more parts awaiting disassembly. I wondered if it even mattered, and if his body would simply be taken apart, joining the rest of the material lying on the workbenches.

I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer.

…

Geth's throne room wasn't what I had expected, at least going off the previous decor.

A stark contrast to the rest of the fortress, it sprawled out before us as a vast expanse of white marble flanked by colonnades of finely sculpted pillars. Statues of Phyrexians in various poses seemingly grew from the walls, as well as in a small halo around the throne.

Like ink spilled on paper, black oil had been smeared across several areas around the chamber. Cleanly decapitated bodies of former guards lay about, having died where they stood, seemingly rather rapidly.

A wailing shriek filled the chamber, overshadowed by a deep, bassy laugh.

Geth himself stood at the foot of the throne, a fully chitinous monster of a man atop four armored quadripod insectoid legs. Red banners composed of fleshy tendons hung from his neck, framing a surprisingly human looking face, which was currently held in a gleeful expression.

In one clawed, Oil soaked hand he grasped the lower body of the assailant. Her other half lay bleeding on the ground at his feet, cleanly sliced in half.

And from the wail, clearly still alive. I watched as the gaping red-black mess below her abdomen slowly sealed itself over, the leaking Oil ceasing its flow within seconds.

"Truly Norn's ambition has outgrown her sense. Sending such a poor, unproven whelp to her death amidst a cheap incited rebellion. She must think poorly of me."

He squinted down at her, his smile becoming more cruel. I tightened my stance, ready to intervene, but Olleon clasped his hand tight over my wrist, murmuring to wait.

As much as I hated it, he was right. I was in no place to fight, let alone stand still without wavering.

"And what will you do now, little doll? You've failed your creator, perhaps even more than you've failed yourself by following her."

"Y-you're wrong…" Her voice choked out, filled with anger.

He clicked his tongue chidingly. "Even now you deny it? I suppose I expected too much of something so… replaceable." He flicked his claw, hurling her lower body off to the side without a second glance, where it tipped off into one of the pits flanking the throne.

"But enough of this, I believe we have guests!" He turned his head, looking down the hall at the two of us. His beady eyes swept over me, pausing for a moment, before settling on Olleon.

"Ah you! How convenient! You're the one I'm sending down to Norn's little playground, yes?"

Olleon nodded almost imperceptibly in reply, mouth closed. From my height, I could see Lin peering around the edge of his rib plating.

Geth reached down to his waist, retrieving a small tablet, as well as a grey pouch, heavy with something bulky. "Oh don't look so worried! I just wanted to see my favorite agent before I sent them off to the bowels of hell. These are your instructions, and a small gift from me to you." His grin widened and Olleon flinched. "Know that you're appreciated."

He hucked both onto the floor near the downed assasin, and gestured to her.

"Ah, and take this one with you, as a show of my generosity to the enemy. I'm sure her Mother is oh-so worried for her. Who knows, she might even be of use to you."

And with that, the monster turned and casually strode off into an adjacent room.

Uncaring of my effective blood loss, I hurried forward to help the assassin, yanking my arm out of Olleon's slackening grasp and slowing just as I neared her so as to not startle.

The assassin hissed in blind rage as I approached, dragging her upper body after Geth with four sinuous red/white arms. Flashbacks to my meeting with Olleon flickered through my mind.

Why did I keep meeting people like this?

"It's alright, we're going to..." I started to say, before realizing that she was completely ignoring me in favor of retrieving her ornate white spear from the floor. Large wings atop her back, formed with nets of fibrous bone and slick tendons flapped weakly, pulling her into the air momentarily despite their apparent inability to actually catch air. Magic?

Ultimately I supposed it didn't matter. She didn't seem to be at risk of dying, at least.

Olleon moved up at my side, carefully scooping up the tablet and the pouch Geth had hurled our way.

I turned as he arrived. "Favorite agent?" I hissed, staring him down.

The tall phyrexian sagged slightly, seeming shameful. "I'm quite certain he said that on purpose just to get under our skin. He's always like this."

"How many contracts have you actually taken for him?" My demeanor persisted, unsatisfied.

Distant shouting echoed into the chamber, and hunched servants began to trickle in, hurrying to the various corpses.

He sighed. "Where we've met in person? Nine." His head swiveled to the downed assassin, still crawling away, and snapped out a few words. "You're not going to get anywhere like that, stop it."

To my surprise, she actually turned her head and stared at us, eyeless face taking us in as if for the first time.

Her face was conventionally attractive, almost sculpted, though I suspected that may have been the point. Were it not for her bright red flesh and the fibrous, bony white crest growing over the top of her head and obscuring the upper half of her face, she'd almost appear human.

Her lips settled into a sneer, and she sighed in frustration. "At least one of you is compleat. Identify yourselves, and come help me up."

My lips pressed tight and I didn't move closer. Olleon remained beside me.

"I'm Taylor. Taylor Hebert. This is Olleon. Who are you?"

She looked at me with some resentment. "Ixhel, of the Fair Basilica, Blade of the Great Unifier." She turned to my companion." Do you let this meat speak for you?"

To his favor, he immediately nodded, tying the bag and tablet onto his hip. "There is no need for me to 'let' her do anything."

Ixhel humphed, and used her spear to straighten herself up before continuing.

"The two of you will return me to the Fair Basilica, where I will report back to my Commander."

"We were already headed in that direction, to my knowledge." I replied. "Though who is this Commander?"

She bristled. "The Dross is more of a backwater than I had thought, if you do not know of Atraxa, The Great Unifier. She is my creator, the chosen of the Praetors, and the right hand of Elesh Norn herself." The bright lighting of the throne room glanced off her fibrous, bony armor as she continued to posture. "But beyond even that, she is a gracious leader and a wise mentor. Should you expedite my return to her, you will no doubt be rewarded greatly."

I thought about what Geth had said during the brief encounter. He had evidently fought with her after she slaughtered her way into the throne room, and it seemed that his leering banter had struck some kind of nerve. This was not a stable individual.

So was it worth it to bring her with us?

I didn't care for whatever reward she was promising, and I wasn't entirely certain she wouldn't just stab us in the back as soon as we got there.

But for the moment at least, she did need us. And if her social status was of note, as indicated by how much Geth had rankled her with just a few insults, she could probably convince others to take the voyage and thus the risk in our stead. Assuming she didn't simply try her luck returning on her own.

And, I thought, she did present a unique opportunity to have a guide for a seemingly very different Phyrexian subculture. That wasn't to be undervalued.

"Fine." I said, noting as Olleon nodded to my side, having seemingly come to the same conclusion. "We'll take you, but that spear is staying with me until we arrive."

Her grip tightened around the handle.

"You do not dictate terms to me, creature. I-"

Perhaps it had been the built up stress of the day, perhaps my built up trauma, but I snapped.

Freshly drawn black mana crackled up my arm and spiraled into writhing tendrils over my hand.

Ixhel flinched in fear, and the spear clattered to the ground, where Olleon quickly swiped it up.

I forced my magic to dissipate, and held in a groan as exhaustion rolled over me even worse than before. What was I doing? Supremacist or not, I had just threatened harm upon a crippled woman. I grit my teeth. And not even more than an hour after killing someone. I was currently doing a great job maintaining my horrendous track record, despite my resolve to break from it.

Some part of my mind knew how unavoidable that conflict had been, but I shoved it aside. I had to do better, regardless. Had to make the effort. Brute forcing things had only led to further conflict.

I tried to soften my stance and held out an arm, eyeing Ixhel's current posture of "standing" on her four hands.

"We'll keep the spear safe, and give it back to you once we arrive. You won't be able to fight like this anyway."

I looked out of the throne room at the stark barrier between white marble and the black bone of the rest of the fortress. It felt emblematic, in a way, if arguably inaccurate. A false dichotomy, often perpetuated. Geth was a monster, a parasite, and yet he was the only thing standing between thousands of incompleat and an even crueler fate. Continuing my track record of violence and removing him would undoubtedly do more harm than good. Nothing could ever be simple.

My eyes looked further. Beyond that barrier of stark contrast the great hall rolled outward, its cold black surfaces rolling down into the city where our road forward awaited.

Those questions could wait. I had a path laid out before me, and so much yet to understand about my new home and my fellow Phyrexians both. Learn, struggle, become a better person, build a better world. It was a long road, difficult, and plenty liable to get me killed, but when had I ever turned down a challenge for fear of failing?

I turned back to my team, noting Olleon, Lin, and finally Ixhel. I held my hand out, black and red gauntlet gleaming in the light.

"Now, are you walking, or do you want a ride?"


….


A/N: And with that, we've just finished the mainline content of Arc 1! Next week we'll have an interlude hinting at some things to come, and then we'll go into hibernation for a little while while I finish up Arc 2. Thanks for reading!

 

[Kaernetron]

With just about two spoken lines, Ixhel brought across she's a total zealot. Well done, Zangunaz!