Work Text:
Hythlodaeus enjoys his job.
Mostly.
As Chief of the Bureau of the Architect, he no longer must suffer the humdrum and monotony of the simpler, more basic concepts brought to the Bureau for consideration. However, in turn, he sees a truly obscene amount of paperwork, all of which must be carefully reviewed lest he accidentally approve some horrifying slavering beast from Elpis to wander with the defenseless arnion and he thereby ensure the complete eradication of the local ecosystem. He knows this, he knows it’s important, what he reads, but sometimes he wonders why on Earth he still works here.
And sometimes, he’s reminded why.
“Chief!” A newer workers comes barging in, not an ounce of protocol to him. Hythlodaeus sighs, and knits his fingers patiently as he waits for the boy to explain himself. “Somebody’s brought a new concept in.”
Yes. They do that. That’s what you’re here for, he snarks in the back of his head, his internal monologue sounding more like Hades’ biting tongue every day.
“I didn’t…I think you should see it.” The boy bites his lip, shuffles his feet. “Lead Architect Alexandra said to come for you.”
Now that’s a surprise. Alexandra is wonderfully competent, a force unto herself, and to require his intervention? It must be wonderfully terrible indeed.
“I’ll be down immediately, then.” Hythlodaeus shuffles his papers, packs his survey tools, makes his office look presentable. “Is there anything I should know?”
“Y-Yes, Chief. The concept, sir, it’s…it’s enormous.”
Hythlodaeus pauses. “It’s not a crystal?”
“No. It’s here.”
The bow materializes in his hand without a second thought. The boy jumps back, startled.
“How big?” Big enough to require backup? Big enough to call in Hades?
“ Big, sir.”
Hythlodaeus pauses. Thinks. “Let me see it first.”
“Sir?”
“I may need to call in my husband.”
-
The thing—a carbuncle, as the half-mad creator had called, or the beginning of one—is, indeed, enormous. It’s so large it can’t even get through the doors, instead towering over the Amaurotians fleeing the square in droves. A gigantic glob of spit drips from its maws onto the ground; Hythlodaeus watches it hiss and spit as it eats away at the stone.
“Isn’t it magnificent?” The crazed Amaurotian gestures at the creature, their smile wide and manic. “I spent a day creating it. No sleep! No eating! Just creating!”
Most people spend moons creating, Hythlodaeus thinks to himself.
The carbuncle sniffs the air; the bow tenses in Hythlodaeus grip, bracing himself for attack—by the star what he wouldn’t do for Azem’s crystal right now—and the carbuncle turns toward him.
Hythlodaeus’ fingers pause on the tip of arrow from his quiver.
Then, the carbuncle opens its mouth.
“Huuuuuungryyyyyyyyyy.”
Hythlodaeus freezes in place. Instinctively, he finds himself attuning his senses—looking at the carbuncle’s aether, examining it, the curves and twists of it—
“What have you done?” Hythlodaeus asks weakly.
The Amaurotian smiles placidly. “I created.”
-
The Fourteen are called in—immediately. It’s all very hush-hush, of course; promises (and threats) to never reveal what was seen and heard. Most of the Bureau has no idea, after all. The extent of their knowledge is that the carbuncle was clearly too dangerous to be even considered for Elpis (true) and was therefore to be unmade (false).
Hythlodaeus took one look at that aether—that twisted, gnarled aether so perfectly sewn together—and knew it could not be unmade. Oh certainly they could unmake it in one way, but to release it from its shackles—return it to its native form—was undoable.
The creator, purged. Hythlodaeus doesn’t know how or why but he was considered too great a threat to remain amongst the living.
But that poor carbuncle? That poor sapient beast?
The bowels of Pandaemonium. Let them study their chimera there. Let them see how twisted minds could become, and how far people would go in the name of progress.
Let them see.