Birds Of A Feather, Chapter 1.ai

1.ai

+++

The sky is lovely today. The rainbow hues of the clouds stretch from horizon to horizon, swirling and twirling upon themselves. The sight is as beautiful now as it had been when I first saw it, an Age ago, and when I had last seen it, a mere decade ago.

I breathe deep and slow, tasting the sweetness that lingers in the air.

It is good to be home.

A shift in the air draws me from my reverie, and my head lowers to see the doors shift open.

A figure in form-fitting clothes walks through them, armour plating mixing with robes and tassels. It looked good, and it looked entirely unlike what she normally wore.

“Has the style changed already?” I asked, amusement colouring my tones. “Did you give up on the billowing cloaks?”

“Of course not.” Zeren Shikam states. “It is entirely for ceremony... But you already knew that.”

I couldn’t help a deep laugh. Not so long ago, and this girl never would have dared to imply the disrespect it would take to call me out on my nonsense. “I did.” I admitted. “And that’s part of the reason I chose to come back here and now.”

She tries to look offended, and fails. Instead, she splays her palm over her chest, and bows her head. “Welcome back.”

“It is good to be back.” I said, stepping closer and clasping the girl on the shoulder. Her eyes crease in a smile, her shoulders straightening. “You look good, girl.”

“As do you, Elder.” She says.

“Hah!” I laugh, before starting to move forwards. Zeren Shikam falls into place beside me, walking with me. “Time did eventually take its toll on me, girl. There’s no need for flattery.”

My skin had inched closer towards pallid with every passing decade, and all of my plumage had faded into dull colours. My posture was still straight, but by now, that was sheer stubbornness.

“Your eyes are as bright as ever.” She refutes, and the words draw another chuckle from me. That is true, after all.

But the levity fades from me soon enough, regardless. She has no trouble picking up the change in my mood. “Gather the council.” I told her. “We must discuss what I have Seen.”

She nods, offering another bow before turning away.

+++

“- and so, Ashkar Behek shall meet his end at the hand of the Adopted Child.” I finish, delivering the last of my report to the room.

The council of my fellows are seated in a ring, of which I am a part of. The Younger, whose Sight has not yet advanced to match our own, are either seated or standing in the stadium that surrounds our circle. We rest upon stone that is only slightly younger than me. It had been carved by fellows that were now long lost to time.

“Two more tribes...” Itomok Evenhar grimaces, the pulse of her mourning ringing through the air. “Is there nothing that can be done?”

“There is not.” Lunama Mesto denies. “The sequence of events has solidified over time. To break it would invite a destruction that can not be born. It is through these events that the Adopted Child will reach the strength she needs to acquire.”

My eyes closed for a few moments. “I had hoped that there would be disagreement.” I professed.

“I am sorry.” Lunama Mesto states, regretful. “But I have not Seen anything that would prove you wrong.”

And that, always, was the worst part of it.

When I was younger, and still had the energy, I used to rage against this. The flame of my fury in the face of a doomed future was once used to set them ablaze, so that their embers might be used to light the way into something joyful.

But the thing about time is that it keeps going, and, always, there are times that seem bleak and times that seem bright.

I had lost the energy of my youth. I spent days asleep to stir for mere hours, now. No matter how enduring we made our bodies, it was our souls that eventually guttered.

Some of our kind had found ways to nourish theirs. I had sought them out, once, and that was the only reason I was still alive today. But, by then, it had already been too late, and I found myself only able to lengthen the wick of my life rather than keep it stoked forever.

“So many of the Eld seem to fade.” Itomok Evenhar shook her head. “Alimbic, Bryyonian, Lamorn, Luminoth, N’kren, Ylla... We Chozo are no different.”

“We face now the consequences of the choices that we made in our youth.” I stated. “But it is the Younger who bear the most of them. For our star-fellows, the choices were different, but the ultimate consequences arrived all the same.”

The Bryyonians had been first. They had failed to heed the warning that we had given then, and in doing so, tore themselves in two. The war between both sides ruined them, and survivors were left misshapen and dangerous. When the Leviathan crashes into the Bryyo, it will be their end.

The Luminoth had seen similar destruction, their own Leviathan splitting Aether into twin dimensions. They warred now with the Ing, who had supped upon the corruption the Leviathan had spilled forth. The Alimbic, too, faced an outside threat, and had sealed much of themselves to contain it.

Where the Chozo differed was in our ancient split. The formation of the tribes had scattered our empire far and wide, but it seemed that the more time passed, the closer each group came to their own misfortunes. Even without them, we were still facing the consequence of the longevity that we had wrought into ourselves.

There were so few of us that were born, now. The decline was slow, our cultures not properly adapted to it.

“Stranger still is how their sequences inevitably come to thread with that of the Adopted Child.” Minamar Mimo commented. “What is it about this century that so many culminations will happen during it?”

Lunama Mesto shook his head. “It is absurd... But it does seem to be the way that things are.”

“The shine of her soul is a light that burns brightly.” I stated. “Such blinding luminance inevitably draws itself upon all things. Fate draws her to darkness, leading to harshness, but when she is finished, she leaves only illumination.” I paused, feeling the future as it shone back upon me. “She will make her way here, eventually.”

And here on Ili Sylpha Nalima, she would be tested again.

“What a grand cruelty.” Itomok Evenhar shakes her head. “Such weight, laid upon such young shoulders.”

“That only means that we must help where we can.” Minamar Mimo stated. “A burden shared is a burden lightened.”

I nodded.

Silence fell through the chamber. The quiet was contemplative. We were all already considering what we could do for her.

I already knew my gift.

I had already prepared it. I would have liked to give it to her personally, but such a thing was impossible.

“I will not live to see it.” I said.

+++

I sat in the Chamber of Song, listening to the universe as it hummed carefully. The flow of life continued unabated, mirrored by the waters of the chamber, passing through the weaves of channels carved along the ground.

A trio of Statues were seated around me. They were doing as well as I had ever seen them, their forms clean of grime and dust. The sight warmed my heart, knowing that the Younger had taken care of this place so carefully, so thoroughly.

I had built this place long ago, shortly after we had arrived upon this world, and I had interred my War Glaive here. The Statues had come afterwards, after I’d honed the gift of my Sight to a strength unmatched by the rest of my kind.

I had hewn the very same gift into the Statues, and millenia later I could feel it pulsing through them. One day, the Adopted Child would come here, and she would receive as much of it as she could bear. She would lose much of it, but the most important part is what she would keep.

But that was for a time and a place that I was not going to see.

“You have come to a decision, then?” Zeren Shikam asked. Her posture was straight, but there was no hiding the subdued tones of her voice.

“It has been a long time coming.” I answered. “I am Old, girl. I don’t have the strength to spare anymore.”

“And your choice... Is it what I think it is?”

I nodded.

Grief flickered over her features. “Is it truly necessary?” She asked.

I sighed. “For the past five hundred years, all that I have Seen of we Chozo is our slow decline.” I said. “Our tribes wither away like leaves severed from the branches. Our distance is safety, but inevitability. Some simply decline until there’s nothing left, too small to continue. Others see violence, from within or without.” My eyes closed for a moment. “I have tried to avert this. You, of the Younger generations, are the result. You were raised with the vitality, the encouragement, to succeed where we Elders failed.”

“And do we succeed?” She asked.

I looked at her. “You can.” I said.

But it is not set in stone.

And she can hear it without me saying it.

“The risk remains, however.” I shook my head. “What I seek to do will throw things further afield. It would be another vector for our kind. One more hope that we Chozo will not pass completely into the night.”

For a time, she stayed silent.

I knew what she was thinking, of course. I did not need my gift for it.

“... But,-” She finally speaks. “- it would be the end of you.”

I looked at her. As gently as I could, I reached up, and brushed her face. “My dear girl...” I said, looking at the girl who had been my daughter in all but blood. “I was always going to pass one day.”

Her head dips, and I make no mention of the tear that falls from her eye.

The Statues watch with blind eyes, patient and timeless.

“It will be nice.” I say to her. “That my wings will be stretched again.”

She swallows her emotion. “But it will not be you.”

The Statues watch.

Grieving.

+++

My choice, in the end, was sheer audacity.

I had lived for more than an Age, looked deep into the mysteries of the universe. Once, I had wandered between the tribes, gathering and sharing knowledge. I had spoken to those who had left their bodies behind and plunged headfirst into the shapeless realms of thought and soul. I had sought those who focused on the physical world, and honed their bodies into utter mastery. I had met with those who had unravelled the infinities of genetics, those who had untangled the mysteries of magic, those who had unwound the depths of technology.

And I had learned.

The records of my knowledge were wrought in a thousand, thousand worlds. Copies had been gifted. Threads of fate had been spun carefully, all of the time and effort that I could spare directed to this purpose.

At the end of my life, I had one final solution to make sure that the memory of us would never die.

“I leave this message to you.” I say. “My Sight is strong, but not perfect, and in this, the chaos of places beyond reality, it is more unreliable still. I have searched for one who is compatible, but it is possible that I did not find one. If that is the case, then I must offer my apologies. If it is not, then it gladdens me.”

I had been too old to tend the flame of my soul into true immortality. Nevertheless, I knew much and more, and there were, ultimately, ways around it all.

My Essence had been prepared. The very crossroads of my body, my spirit, my identity, and my ability, all of what made me me had been shifted in preparation.

All things had culminated in this. I stand now before an open passage, a hole in space and time, leading to a place that does not have the structure to say that it exists, and which in turn could not support things that required that.

Souls were an exception. The bodies of our spirits could bear it... at least for a short time.

My choice will see my last embers lost to this universe. Never shall I see the other side of the cycle. Never shall I soar the shores of our spirit-home.

I have long weighed the cost of the act. It is worth it.

“If this is to your liking, then I ask only one thing.” I say, to a person who I do not know, but who will, if I have done everything right, inherit all of me. “Please do not let us be forgotten.”

And with that, I allow myself to fall into the rift of unreality.