2.17|THE SCENT OF THE DEAD

 

2.17|The Scent of the Dead

 

The trio's time in the shelter came and went. After several years, Baron took off to the surface and was not seen again. Shortly after, Amity herself found herself leaving the safety of the shelter. Protlyn stayed underground until several years passed, and she had not aged or changed much. The surface was forcibly pried and opened by a large Oohtlets. Once so revered, the Flicker was dragged out and brought across the outer world to witness the destruction that had befallen the landscape. She passed by Theo who gave her only a solemn look as she was brought into a six-sided hexagonal Pyre. Inside was a large pile of grey ash and flammable spice. The Oohtlets tied her up in the center, and attempted to light her ablaze. Her eyes burned as the Oohtlets poured on a large oil vat that lit up the pyre.

The flames began to go out, and soon the pyre was completely dead. The Flicker was nowhere to be seen. Protlyn opened her eyes, skeletons drooping with black ichor in a shallow spring of dark liquid. The sky was an unending night, and a tall shadow stood above her. "Grahim?" She asked in two voices.

"Welcome back Protas, Raelyn." She patted her the girl's on the shoulder.

"How'd it go?"

"Oh.." She looked away  "Apparently I died." She'd failed.

Grahim let out a long, quiet moan, emphasizing it to be as over-dramatic as

possible. "Oh.. poor Protas."

She looked down at the ground. "What?" She asked, her voice cracking. "I was

never the best person for this role. I attempted to do your work, and I failed. I

don’t deserve to be your champion, I’m sorry Grahim."

Grahim smiled, her teeth the same color of dark ash. "Not my work, Protas. It

is never my work. You are simply the pendulum that the world turns around."

"Wait what? What? What does that mean?"

Grahim smiled. "We are not gods, Protas. That is a critical error my siblings make. In my requiem, we are merely the hand of fate. If you had acted correctly, we would not be standing here, for there would be no need for you to prove what you're complicit in."

Protas looked away as Grahim picked from her black rose bush, hand pricking

pure red blood. "I, I'm not sure I'm following that.."

Grahim cupped a flower her palms. "I suppose a small part of me is sad, but not because of the bombs or little ones you tried to guide.” She put it in Protas's hands. "My heart weeps for your heart." She picked up a white flower with little black dots and threw it at Protas. It hit her in the face and she fell to the ground. Grahim smiled, and threw three more petals at Protas, who then threw them back at Grahim, who smiled, and gave her a ripped off arm. "Come, my little one. It is time to find out if my children know how to find and make the better life for themselves that they have always desired."

"So what was I to do?" Protas asked.

"Sssh. Look!" She guided her into a small, wide ancient well, dropping black flower petals into it. The water rippled, revealing a tall lanky super physique of a sensual woman with ashen skin, long grey hair and pure black lipstick, eyeshadow and an opal gown with latex silver opera gloves. "Yulentka. My daughter.. She has been busy, populating a great many worlds. But in the process of seeding life, her creations and children take life away aswell. They accelerate the cycle for which I embody, the birth of life and the overseer of its passing. Here is one of Yulentka's many children now.."

The water shifted, showing an asteroid with tendrils and giant pincers flying through space. "This will arrive on your world, on the Ooht's world in blink of time. Specifically the moon, but it will spread to your world and consume all life. It will render even the last vestiges of life inert, and into my domain." She pinched Protlyn's cheek. "I'd like to protest this, and insist you prevent that outcome. Do you want to try again?"

"You mean, I get revived again?" Protlyn, her voice trembling, asked, "So what

am I to do? I could barely raise the world up as is. How do I turn this.. to stop

it?"

Grahim smiled, and shrugged, "Maybe not in the light, but from the shadows

you'll find your answer."

"The shadows?"

"Yes. I have given you a path to pursue. In order to do so, you will first have to lose yourself, and embrace the black of the shadows. You may not see any way. This is the last act of inevitability." The Novus placed her giant arms around Protlyn. "I will make it easier for you, and bestow a gift."

Her hands lowered a necklace onto her. "The gift of separation." She placed all 3 hands on Protlyn's forehead and started to stab in and pull. "You 'll remember the truth of your life." She began to stab into her again, and she pulled away. "You will find the love in your life." She stabbed, and pulled back. "When you feel it, you will stop." She put her arms around her, pulling her back. "Your heart will be healed." She pulled, then stabbed, and then pulled away again. "And your death, will be as a gift. It is a gift you cannot refuse."

"I'll.. find the love of my life again? Does that mean I'll see-?" Protas asked,

 looking down into her reflection in the water, feeling a tingling in her heart.

"I'm giving you another chance dear loose cannon. A cheat from death, and

from age. Do not waste it."

Protlyn began to schism. "Thank you..."

And then she was torn from the void.

When she woke up, she turned around in the vast empty ashen canyon of the living and her heart skipped. Someone woke up next to her groping at the knees. Gone was the bleak, deathly ethereal domain of Grahim, and returned was the land of the living, bringing its duet of sirens with it. Protas's heart sped up. Raelyn cried. The two jumped into each other's arms and embraced. The two began to glow and then contort, swirling as particles until they were light again. "W-what?" She now wore two necklaces, 2  bodies as 1 once more. Protlyn examined the necklaces, only to receive a series of shouts. The nomads of every shade, scale, wagging tail or kind pointed and assaulted her.

The scene in Grahim's rippling well shifted, and they were in another hallway, with Protlyn tied up and being watched by a trio of men who resembled large bears. For months she sat, only taking off her necklaces and separating when given a sliver of privacy. The cold dark cell was by no means an upgrade from the fallout shelter, but she endured it nonetheless, relishing her turn of fortune.