Chapter Text
Across the realm, tens of mouths screamed at the exact same time. Only one of their number did not; its lungs were needed for running. Mortal bodies, even those bound to the divine, had their limits. So while the Khalra-body ran, its other bodies vented its frustration for it.
So close. The Kwellen-body was so close that the Whole was already thinking of it as the “Kwellen-body.” But even though the Khalra-body could run faster than any mere mortal could dream, the same was true of its quarry. When vessels competed, the shape of the body began to matter once more. Even in the tight tunnels of the Wormways, the Kwellen-body, a grasshopper, flew ahead of the Khalra-body’s straining beetle legs. If it weren’t for the rune for speed carved into the Khalra-body’s shell, the chase would have been over already.
All the other bodies screamed again. Far away, deep in Vassalheim’s city-palace, a soldier fly nervously asked what was wrong. The question went unanswered.
Hope yet remained. The Many had been clever to hide in the Wormways, a nest of tunnels sprawling across Khepria’s southwest so tangled and nonsensical that its own makers hadn’t even bothered with mapping it. It was the perfect place to get lost, in all senses of the word. Nobody -- except perhaps the Memory, and even that was doubtful -- could truly navigate the place, and this was a double-edged sword. If the Khalra-body could stay on the Kwellen-body’s heels long enough, there was a chance it would run into one of the Wormway’s many dead ends.
A thin hope, almost lost thrice along with the Kwellen-body’s trail in the twisting, knotted dark. Worms, blind as they were, had no need for lanterns or even the glowing lichen the Myrmids favored. The Khalra-body had to light the way with Soul.
So they knew hope had won out when they saw a white flicker ahead.
The Many had chosen a decrepit place to make its final stand. Worm tunnels, despite their crazed winding, were finely made things. Perfectly smooth, perfectly circular. Simple, yet the skill to shape stone so eluded even the Myrmids. But the tunnel beneath the Khalra-body’s feet was beginning to split with cracks, its slick surface becoming rough and then cragged.
The malformed tunnel dumped out into what must have been a natural cavern, because not even a Worm’s drunken thrashing would produce something so rude. Stalagmites rose out of gums of rubble like rotten teeth. A cleft split the room in two and made a jagged, inken stripe upon the floor. Every surface glistened with slime and wet.
The only beautiful thing in the room was the Kwellan-body, glowing from within with silvery light. Soul misted off its carapace in swirls. Though its time in hiding had clearly worn upon the vessel -- its ragged cloak and scarred shell did not speak of comforts -- it stood tall and serene. In its hands, the Many had taken the form of a bellhammer almost the same height as its bearer.
“Dear lost one,” purred the Whole through the Khalra-body’s mouth, “you have picked an interesting time to experiment.” Perhaps a past bearer of the Many had used a hammer, but not Kwellan. The grasshopper was infamous for wielding a needle, much to the spiders’ chagrin. Shardbearer Khalra, however, had been known to favor the bellhammer. Perhaps the Kwellan-body thought to test its mettle one last time? How quaint if so. How pointless.
“I am not lost,” replied the Kwellan-body, even though they both knew that was untrue.
The Khalra-body only laughed and lunged, the Justice solidifying into Khalra’s signature hammer in its claws.
Credit where credit was due: the fight was not one-sided. Even with its oversized weapon, the Kwellan-body proved a nimble opponent. The Khalra-body, tasked with blocking the exit, could not afford to move much. It took many blows it could otherwise have dodged, carapace cracking open and spilling Soul before sealing back up again. Brief flashes of light accompanied each landed strike.
But when vessels competed, the shape of the body began to matter once more. The Khalra-body was a beetle, a large one at that, thickly armored, stout, and well practiced with its bellhammer. Victory was simply a matter of patience.
Indeed, as the fight dragged on, the Kwellan-body began to hit the room more than the Khalra-body. Stone split, rubble spewed, bells clanged. Sound became its own hammer beating upon the duelists, amplified by their hollow stage. The cavern began to shake.
The Khalra-body cackled with delight. The wrath of a god ought to make the mountains tremble, even one turned upon itself. With a particularly vicious swing the Khalra-body sent the Kwellan-body crashing through several stalagmites. Destroying the ugly cave was a pleasure unto itself. The Kwellan-body rose shakily, bleeding Soul from fractures all over its shell. But it launched itself back to Kharla’s waiting hammer without hesitation. The Khalra-body hummed and raised its weapon obligingly.
Then the Kwellan-body slammed its hammer into the rock above the Khalra-body’s head, and the tunnel collapsed.
The Kwellan-body didn’t stop there. Abandoning the fight altogether, it smashed at the floor, the walls, even leaping up to the ceiling and running along it as though gravity had reversed -- gods, of course a grasshopper would get a rune for that.
“Stop!” screamed the Khalra-body, realizing all too late what was happening.
Of course, Kwellan did not listen. His hammer continued to pulverize stone, clanging hideously, and yet the sound was not as loud as the cavern’s groaning. Stalactites rained from the ceiling. The rift in the floor spat lightning bolt cracks, further fracturing the room.
The Khalra-body wasted precious seconds swiping at Kwellan. But in contests of speed, the grasshopper was the clear victor, even when he wasn’t dancing upon the ceiling. Swearing, the Khalra-body turned and began frantically digging at the collapsed tunnel.
It made barely any progress before it felt the earth buckle.
A god might make the mountains tremble, might even bring them to their knees. But mortal bodies, even those bound to the divine, had their limits.
This time, when the Whole screamed, the Khalra-body joined the chorus.
---------
A splinter of light rose like a bubble from deep water: dancing, flickering, swallowed in vast darkness, and yet ceaseless in its climb toward an unseen surface. It passed through layers upon layers of stone, eons compressed into wobbling lines, buried and forgotten. Then it breached open air, night bright as diamond after so long beneath the earth. Still it rose, a star to join its brethren in the sky. It only paused after the mountains had become distant and small.
Far below lay the body of its last bearer, crushed under the weight of the mountains themselves. A tomb grand in scale, if nothing else.
It mourned, in its own thin and unthinking way. But not for long. The work must continue.
It flickered, and was gone.