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The abyss is described by some as a bottomless void. Some use it as a fear-mongering tale to put little kids to sleep. To some, it is a tantalizing question for whose answer will never arise.
However, even those who have seen and died by the viscous black blood of the creatures who live there can never know of its true depravity. Even Khaeneri’ans, who have resided on its chasmous edge for centuries dare not step an inch further inwards than needed. Alas, even though they avoided venturing in, the abyss came to them. Thus was the reason for their downfall.
But the abyss, filled with its chaos and calamity, is still far too disorganised to have brought the destruction of a nation so advanced as Khaeneri’ah. And that is true. For there was a mastermind behind it all; she didn’t care about her actions' side effects; she didn’t feel for any of the pain or suffering she caused. She did not feel at all.
No one knows of this better than Alice herself; she had known her before the inane desire for progress had wormed its way into her mind.
Alice had been on a regular outing with the Hexenzirkle when she had broken away from the group. The rubble, there was nothing special to it for an outlander, but for Alice, it had struck a sensitive chord. “Alice!” Nicole called from some distance away, “Are you following?”
Alice, whose eyes had grown clouded and unfocused, snapped out of her stupor and turned to face the bodiless voice.
“I’ll catch up with you all later!” Her response was cheerful—as she usually was—but a trained ear would’ve caught the small breakage and the slightest shiver behind her words. The only one with an ear that trained was Rhinedottir.
Alice could never lie. Just as the others in the Hexenzirkle had their own powers, hers was more so a burden. But she had found ways around that, naturally. Half-truths, truths not spoken at all.
She stood frozen as she eyed the abyss in front of her. Rhinedottir’s creatures paid her little heed so danger was not what kept her paralysed in place, but it was a strange sense of melancholy. Rhinedottir—her mind had both grown and eroded in many ways more than one. She wondered, should she stay in blissful ignorance of what had happened to her, or quench her curiosity and come across something that she could not comprehend?
Some strand of nostalgia pulled her forward as her once nimble feet callously collapsed into the darkness. Despite her mind being empty, her legs walked with purpose and memory. She did not need to think, or ponder, as she retraced the treacherous path she had made a dozen times on end. And just like they always had, they paused when they usually paused, and here she stood, where she had stood so many times before.
Rhinedottir, for as exceptional of a woman she was, had an abode that could only be called humble. No flora grew in the abyss, but small Cecilias still persevered on the outskirts. Rhinedottir’s more…benevolent creations. They had a soft glow to them, humming like a maternal lullaby. Ironic, considering Rhinedottir’s nature. Despite their tenderness, Alice could not help but think they resembled the old Rhine quite a bit. Just as these pure white flowers fought against the darkness of their world, so had Rhinedottir too, once fought tooth and nail against her own circumstances.
Alas, she had fought too well. And at the same time, not well enough.
Alice thought about knocking before she entered, but she doubted Rhinedottir would’ve even cared enough to answer. So she let herself in.
Books, some of which Alice herself bought for Rhine, lay dusty in their misuse. Evidence of a fireplace existed, but now it was covered by soot. A carpet, ragged and worn. Paintings, parched and bleak. Everywhere in this house smelt like half-written memories; the events long departed but the emotions a lingering scent.
Alice wasn't too fazed by the disrepair the house was in. It had been this way the last time she had visited—albeit a bit less. Rhinedottir’s true abode was further into the house. For a creature who needed no water, food or sun, most of the house was of no use to her. And so, the only place she could ever be found was in her lab.
She pressed further. The dust and mess soon began to clear out as the hushed muffle of Alice's footsteps soon became defined upon the sterile tile. Rhine, even through her development, was always one to keep her workspace clean. She had been looking at her feet for a while, still too nervous to raise her gaze and finalize what she would see. Yet when she finally did, there was no one there.
The constricted breath winding its way in Alice's lungs escaped. Oh.
She didn't know whether to feel relieved or saddened.
It was unlikely she abandoned this place, it was still in good condition and many specimens still remained. They were suspended indefinitely, their non-eyes observing Alice from within their glass cages. They would remain there until Rhinedottir grew bored, or frustrated, took them out, toyed with their insides and then be discarded to form new organic matter. Most likely, Rhinedottir was out on one of her countless expeditions.
One may have called it cruel. Alice did not mind that, she had done that and worse. A little sacrifice is needed for progress, she would tell herself even as she observed Rhine's ever-worsening acts. Sometimes she wondered if she was wrong.
When Alice had given birth to Klee, she realized the burden of care and love. How protective she was of her—for she was life which could never be harmed. When Rhinedottir had 'birthed' her first Albedo, Alice assumed she would've felt the same. That this new, breathing, child in her hands would thaw over her frozen heart.
All she could do was sit tight-lipped and smile as Rhinedottir sent him to die. And she would do so many more times after that.
Between them, Rhine knew she was always the maternal one. That was why she had sent her successful Albedo to her. He had shown up out of nowhere, yet Alice knew who he came from just from the utter resemblance he bore of her. It was a bit painful to look at him at times, the same platinum hair, those calculative teal eyes—though they lacked a star—the intense yet stoic expression and pure dedication to their craft. He was her child alright, even if she herself didn't think so.
Alice rifled through the notes on her desk. Rubedo seemed to be a frequent word that appeared. Ah yes. The next stage in alchemy after Albedo. Centuries later she still seemed cooped up on the same problem.
“Alice?” The voice was barely above a hush, starting monotonous, with a painful edge at the end.
Alice’s hand remained frozen on the parchment. She hadn’t realized Rhinedottir would be back so soon. Her fist tightened at her waist, and she had to give it her all just to present her ever-amiable face to Rhinedottir, “Rhine.” Despite her effort, her smile remained weak, “It’s you.”
Time had not touched her. It seemed some curses couldn't ward off even such a primal force. She bore the same appearance—perpetually rigid, forever pensive, the same wrinkles, the same blemishes. Even her clothes had not changed much. Practical. Out of the way.
Rhine paced around her quickly, gathering up all her notes and arranging them in a hurry, “Why are you here?”
“Why not?” When Rhine didn’t answer Alice sighed, “It was a regular expedition. I saw the fork leading here and decided to come."
Rhinedottir only observed her. On one hand, it was uncanny and intrusive, on the other hand, it was nostalgic. Alice smiled, “You’re looking at me like that again.”
“Like what?” Rhine seemed more frustrated than amused. Alice couldn’t help but feel a little quenched.
“Like you don’t understand a thing about me.”
“I never do.”
She laughs, though it feels far too lonely in such a hollow cavern, “That’s what you loved about me. And that’s what I loved about you; you'd always try so hard to figure out why I am the way I am.”
Rhine’s gaze dropped to her papers, “Loved.”
Alice's smile wavered—only the slightest—as she continued bringing old memories of them, “Yet despite it all we worked well together. Not many of us old academics left are there?”
“How’s Albedo?” She completely ignored her previous statement.
“He’s doing fantastic! Klee and him get along so well,” she wonders if she should keep speaking, “He misses you.”
Rhine simply nods and continues packing up her things, back towards Alice.
She peers over her, on her toes. Her tone was playful. “You still care about him, you cold-hearted thing.”
“Care —is a dangerous thing, Alice.”
“Ah! But you must’ve cared about him to ask?”
“Albedo is my greatest work. Until I reach the next stage of progress and he doesn’t finish his assignment, he cannot die.”
“I always found it odd you made him call you Master.”
“Tch. Were you the one who gifted him that book?”
Alice’s eyes twinkle in remembrance. She looked to her left, and as radiant as ever, was the white birch door behind which lay Albedo’s room. She remembers it well; not a single bed or bathroom. A table, easel, lamp, and chair. He would keep his clothes on the floor, neatly stacked in a pile. Some books would lay on his table with a few parts of research equipment but Alice had still found it so bleak and lifeless.
As much as Rhine persuaded her he was but a Homonculus, she saw so much personality and life behind his eyes. Curiosity, and hope. So once, in secrecy, she had brought him a fairytale compilation from Klee’s own collection. At first, the logician in him had rejected such childish gifts. But Alice knew he had gone and read it.
Months later, she had come to an aggravated Rhine, and a very silent Albedo. The book held a depiction of a woman and her child. Allegedly, Albedo had mistakenly called Rhinedottir Mother, rather than Master and it had thrown her over the edge. Yet it may just have been what caused Rhine to hold such affection for him over her previous specimens. Maybe she did still have a heart.
“I don’t think you need to ask me that.”
“Of course it was you. What did you think you’d accomplish?” Generally, a person would have spoken this with an angry voice, but Rhinedottir remained perfectly stoic. She had already been very inexpressive, and now, the utter lack of emotion altogether made her a chilling thing.
“That’s the only difference between you and me, Rhine.”
“Pray tell.”
“I am not as obsessive as you.”
“You say it like it’s a bad thing.”
Alice was tired of being soft and playful, “Oh, but it is Rhine. You killed your own children in the progress of science. It took me intervening to possibly save your most recent one.”
“I was never going to dispose of Albedo. And they are not my children. They are my creations.”
“Gosh, Rhinedottir. They are alive, and human. They bleed and cry, and laugh. They are more human than you can ever be my dear. When was the last time you ever looked at anyone with anything more than that calculating gaze of yours?” Alice laughs, but it is not one of joy, “It truly was a mistake coming here thinking that in these centuries you could have changed after finding Albedo on my doorstep.”
“Alice.” Rhine looked absolutely serious now, “I did not ask for you to come here. I may have been someone back then, and you may have loved that someone. But right now, I do not care if you cry, or beg, or scream. I have a goal and I will not be hindered.”
“And I understand that. You and your goals. It would be nice if you bothered to come to our meeting every so often hmm? Everyone there misses you, not just me. And we are trying to help you. We all want the same thing."
She shook her head, "To an extent. You said it yourself—you lot aren't obsessive enough. None of you listened to me five hundred years ago and I don't expect you to start now."
Alice's breath hitched. She couldn't lie and say she had, because even she had considered her actions reckless. But now, as she looks upon it, maybe if she and the rest of them had listened to her, they would have succeeded in bringing back order. "That's true. But I'll listen to you now, despite what you say."
A quick glimpse of perplexing flashed Rhinedottir's features, "Have you learnt to lie now?"
"You know that's not an option for me."
When Rhine didn't respond Alice stepped forward and raised a gentle hand to her face, the back of her hand grazing her cheek. Rhinedottir looked the ever slightest alarmed, yet she didn't shift, eyes glued to the slight angle Alice's head lolled.
She felt the rush of air escape her nose on her wrist; warm, and dry. This was Rhine. A passionate, powerful, pitiless liar. Many would be deflected by her cruel words, however, Alice had been there before she had grown into that shell. She had watched it happen.
And regardless, none of the Hexenzirkle was less cruel than the other. To some, they weren't cruel at all. They maintain order; what can be more peaceful than that?
Rhine angles into her touch subtly, eyebrows still knotted. Alice took that to allow her arms to properly cage her, any looser and she would escape like an ephemeral shadow.
"Alice," Rhinedottir's words sounded like a warning but they frayed near the end as if she too, was unsure.
Rhinedottir was cold, even through her layered clothes, much unlike the pouring heat from Alice. Despite the stoicism she carried herself with, she was pliant in her hands. A soft clay, yielding under the artist's hands.
Something inside her unwinded, a heavy sigh settling on Alice's nape. It sounded suffocating; something that must've been trapped in her lungs for decades. I've missed you too. Rhinedottir didn't say it, not that she ever would, but she didn't need to. Alice just knew.
What surprised her was that it was Rhine who moved first, breaking apart just to set her mouth on hers as they had many times before. So trained and practised yet so imbued with hunger that it may have very well been the first time they had done so. Rhinedottir had never been gentle. She was greedy, always vying for more and more and more until she herself couldn't handle it. Consumed and consumed till she cracked. Alice smiled under her pressure. Liar. You were always a liar.
Rhine clutched her hair for whatever purchase she could gather, a pained noise from the back of her throat just reminding Alice how long she had lived in isolation. Alice reciprocated. She allowed herself to lean back into Rhine's overwhelming grasp and forget that these centuries ever divided them.
"Show me," Alice spoke against her lips and Rhine's eyes fluttered open. "What?"
"I know you'd never stop working as long as your mind still produced thoughts. So show me your next step," Alice looked at her, she would not leave her so easily again. Rhine gave her a curt nod and led her back to her desk.
Alice followed, warily, eyes tracing down Rhinedottir's figure when she grabbed something about the size of a paperweight off a pedestal. She held it in between them, the confusion hitting Alice first quickly followed by fear, awe, and a dawning understanding.
Rhine toyed with it, the piece floating tenderly above her fingers, showering them in a light glow, "The Heart of Naberius."
A gnosis. She had a bloody gnosis.
Rhine smiled and Alice remembered how uncanny it looked on her. This wasn't a smile of unbridled joy—no—it was all too familiar. It was greed. The momentary bliss of a younger Rhinedottir, of their kiss, was fading.
Her hand closed around it and Alice did the same. Rhine's eyes were still glued to the spot where the object once showed, but Alice's eyes were glued to her instead. A dancing fire leapt from pupil to pupil, light freckling seeming like burns from the fire's embers. Images from five hundred years ago flashed in her mind. The crimson sky; An overpour of Rhine’s offspring and the waste they lay to Khaeneri’ahs army of machines; Two Archons choking their final breath under Rhinedottir’s action. Rhine had been young and impulsive. Smart, but not wise. She had not experienced loss, had not been hardened.
Rhinedottir now… Alice's mouth was dry, however, she had made her promise. She wouldn't back down this time.
She hoped she would not grow to regret this.
All right Rhinedottir. Show me. And show them all.