Chapter 24 - Yollan
Sam P.O.V.
When consciousness finally begins to drift back to me, it doesn't arrive with the usual jolt of adrenaline or the phantom pain of a past life. It arrives softly, wrapped in a haze of absolute comfort.
Ammit is still dead asleep, her limbs wrapped around me like a koala clinging to a eucalyptus tree in a hurricane. We are nestled in a bed that redefines the word "luxury." The sheets feel like woven silk and clouds. I squint my eyes against the ambient light filtering into the room, burrowing deeper into the mattress, fighting the urge to wake up.
First nice bed in this life, I think, a pang of nostalgia hitting me hard in the chest. I didn't realize how much I missed this... just sleeping without one eye open.
I roll slightly to the side, careful not to disturb the clinging dragon-girl, and I am immediately hit by a scent that makes my head swim, wildflowers and sweet, sticky honey. My nose brushes against something incredibly soft, warm, and fragrant. I can't help it; I take a deep, full breath, letting the intoxicating scent fill my lungs.
It takes a moment for my sluggish brain to process the visual information. I crack one eye open.
Ari is there. She slept with us, and, true to her nature, she is completely naked.
My nose is currently buried in a very dangerous, very warm location. She is straddling my face in her sleep, her breathing deep and rhythmic, letting out a soft, unconscious moan as I shift beneath her. My heart hammers against my ribs like a trapped bird, and blood rushes south with enough force to make my head spin. My vision tints with a faint red haze as my eyes begin to glow.
Okay. Do not panic. Do not wake them.
I carefully extricate myself from the tangle of limbs, moving with agonizing slowness. Every rustle of the silk sheets sounds like a thunderclap to my heightened senses. I try to breathe in and out, to center myself, but the scent... that intoxicating, primal scent is everywhere. It is not working. The beast inside is waking up, and he is hungry.
I stumble into the bathroom, desperate for cold water or a distraction. What I find instead is a heavenly bathhouse that looks carved from a single piece of opal, steam rising gently from a massive central pool.
I forgot a towel...
The feeling coursing through me is not just simple arousal. It is a wildfire. It is a biological imperative screaming at every cell in my body to reproduce, to conquer, to claim. It feels less like human desire and more like an animal instinct overriding my logic, a side effect of the new body and Wrath's vital essence.
I spot a statue in the center of the bath—a masterwork of art. In my current state, the artistry transforms into fuel for the fire burning in my veins. It depicts a primal scene, a naked wolf-woman and a nine-tailed fox locked in a wrestle for dominance. The craftsmanship is insane; I can see the tension in the fox's muscles, the way her tails splay out in feigned resistance, the dominant sneer of the wolf. It's raw. It's carnal.
This... is really good material.
I don't fight it. I can't. The fire is too hot, the instinct too loud. I jump into the water, and for a moment, the world narrows down to sensation and heat.
After what feels like an eternity of feverish intensity, the release finally comes. I slump against the cool stone of the bath rim, breath heaving, the red glow in my eyes fading back to normal. The water ripples around me, calming the storm.
Sigh...
I offer a silent, desperate prayer to whatever cleaning spirits exist in this magical place. "Sorry about the mess," I whisper to the air. I wash myself until I am squeaky clean, scrubbing away the shame, and practically flee the bathroom. I hope to the high heavens that nobody was watching that display.
("Now you can talk, Wrath? You're awake, right?") I project the thought inward as I pace the room.
("Tsk. Sorry about that,") Wrath's voice echoes in my head, sounding groggy and thick. ("I just woke up. I had no control over that surge.")
("I can see that. I could feel you stirring a few times before, specifically when I was angry. Just keep the outbursts in control and focus on keeping us alive, alright?")
("Sure!") Wrath chirps, sounding uncharacteristically chipper, for a manifestation of rage. ("If I could, I'd just sleep and...")
("Errr... sigh.")
I cut the connection, ignoring his rambling, and return to the bedroom. The girls are still asleep, looking like a painting of peace that I don't deserve to disturb.
Surprisingly, I am not hungry. It must be the fairy food from the night before; it was potent stuff, dense with energy. I am not fully charged, but I feel like I have hit a plateau. Wrath has nothing to do with intellect or magical power, so he was stimulated in... other ways.
I sit on the edge of the bed and try to cycle my power. It is a mess. My internal "river channels", or meridians, the pathways energy takes through my body, are completely different from before. It doesn't hurt, which is the only good sign. I close my eyes and meditate, tracing the flow.
This is going to be a problem, I realize, frowning. I went from a small, manageable creek to seven raging rivers with dams haphazardly thrown up here and there.
If I try to force a high-level spell now, the unrefined power output could literally explode a limb. There is no way I can map this out alone; not for years. If Amy doesn't wake up to help me regulate this system, I am a walking time bomb.
I haven't visited my mindscape yet. I tell myself I was waiting to recover, but truthfully? I am scared. No sir, I am not ready to see the damage... Sigh.. Ok fine let's do it...
("Yo!") I call out to Wrath again. ("Think it should be fine if I go in?")
("Yeah...") Wrath mutters. ("Cough... Pussy... Cough.")
I roll my eyes. Useless.
I do a quick check of my physical body one last time, then close my eyes and dive inward.
The transition is jarring. There is pain, not the sharp sting of a wound, but the ache of uncoordinated existence. It hurts to just be in there. I pull back, take a few breaths in the real world to ground myself, and dive back in.
First stop: Mind.
He is unconscious. It makes sense; he should feel the exact same way I did when I first woke up, disoriented and drained.
That hasty naming convention from before pisses me off. "Mind" and "Wrath" are too simple, too utilitarian for beings that share my soul. I need names that carry weight.
"Khonsu." That is Mind's new name. In the old texts, Khonsu is a moon god, a traveler, a marker of time, the opposite of the devouring Ammit. It fits his calculated nature.
And for Wrath? "Bes." The dwarf god of war, but also of household protection, music, dance, and sexuality. A fighter of evil who isn't afraid to get dirty. It fits the little pervert perfectly.
Amy is still sleeping in there too. We have all suffered a massive amount of mental trauma. It is going to take a long time for the whole team to be operational.
I look around the mindscape. It has changed drastically. The desert section is now half-consumed by white limestone, formed into the shape of the massive tentacles of the monster that tried to absorb me. The spot where the blood fell emanates a strange, heavy pressure. It feels like a scar on the reality of my soul.
Even the walls and thresholds have transformed into this tough limestone. Bes and I don't feel any danger from it, but the stone feels... alive. It pulses with a low rhythm. Further observation is needed, but for now, it seems unthreatening.
I walk toward the fire room. I hesitate at the door, then push it open.
Just as I thought.
This place is not what I envisioned. It is better. Terrifyingly better. I had planned for a furnace, but I got a hellscape. Unlike my plan, it evolved into the ultimate form I could imagine. I have stepped into a completely new world, filled with lava lakes and creatures born from the darkest corners of my imagination, crossbreeds of nightmares.
A fire bat screeches and dives at me, claws extended.
Real enough to kill? Let's find out.
I swat it out of the air with a metal claw. It bursts apart, splashing me with blistering, boiling blood.
- This is a familiar feeling. -
My skin scalds red, healing back in mere seconds, since this is not too unfamiliar to my body.
I step out of the room and slam the door shut. Right now is not the time for training. I need to be stable before I start playing with fire.
I open my eyes in the real world.
Ammit is awake. She has crawled off the bed and is currently curled up on my lap. Across the room, Ari is whistling the tunes I played yesterday. She is dancing in the morning light, her movements fluid and graceful, her dress twirling like a blooming flower.
" I see you are a morning person. " I say, a smirk tugging at my lips.
Ari stops mid-twirl, planting her hands on her hips. "Hpm! I am an 'all the time' person, thank you very much!"
Just looking at her brings the memory of the scent back. No, no, no. Stop. I pat Ammit's sleepy head to distract my thoughts. Phew... breathe in...
("Bes, hold on.") I warn internally.
I look back at Ari with the absolute worst poker face in history, but thankfully, the lust is gone. The cold shower (and the shame) worked.
"Good morning! Something wrong~?" she chirps, tilting her head.
"Yes... I mean, no. Not really," I stammer, clearing my throat. "I need to ask you a few questions. About... your sister."
Saved!
Ari's expression shifts instantly. The playful morning dancer vanishes, replaced by something regal and ancient. "Mmm."
She snaps her fingers. The bedroom dissolves.
In the blink of an eye, we are back in the throne room. The sudden shift in gravity makes Ammit squeak, and I quickly hoist her onto my shoulders. Her hair wraps gently around me, anchoring her.
I take a moment to actually look at Ari. She is wearing a very revealing green dress, Marilyn Monroe style, with colored petals acting as the drape. She looks like an upside-down flower. I hadn't noticed before, but... well, let's just say she is going commando.
Cough...
My eyes glow slightly red for a split second before I clamp down on it.
(This will take time to adjust to. Is she doing this on purpose? Was I too dumb to realize it before? Or maybe this world just has no shame at all. If that's the case, it's pure, in a way. I just have to keep my mind out of the gutter and appreciate the... aesthetics. Sigh.)
"So," I start, trying to sound authoritative. "Where was she when you last heard of her?"
"Skip the detective work," Ari says, her voice echoing in the vast hall. "It is time you knew the history of this star."
She waves her hand, and the air fills with light.
- Ari P.O.V. -
I look at the man before me. He is impatient, burning with a need for vengeance, but he lacks the context to understand the war he is stepping into. I must make him understand.
"I will tell you what you need to know," I begin, summoning an illusion of the past.
I proceed to tell Sam all he needs to know about the events that took place when he was reborn. As I speak, I watch his reaction. When he hears about my sister's capture, his aura flares violently. The stone beneath his feet cracks.
"Marcus," I say, spitting the name. "The madman you and Barb killed. He is the one who caught her. But he was not alone. A man named Beno holds the information you seek."
He nods, his jaw set. Now that he has his direction, I can see the questions burning in his eyes, the general information he has been waiting for since the start.
I expand the illusion to show the cosmos.
"This world is a planet called Yollan," I explain, gesturing to the massive green sphere floating in the illusion. "It is one hundred times the size of your Earth in every dimension. That is one million Earths in total volume. It revolves around its star, Heratos, once every 257 years."
I point to the sun. "Heratos is a giant green-tinted star. From space, it is emerald. From here, due to our atmosphere, it appears white, only showing its true green hue in the quiet of the morning, when there is no luminous pollution."
I then point to a small, angry red dot on the chart. "That red star you use as a reference point? That is Sinris. A red dwarf in our same system, and orbiting Sinris is a smaller planet, only one-tenth the size of Yollan. Dehalle. Which is a literal, physical hell."
I let the history flow from me.
Dehalle was doomed to destruction eons ago. But our God, in his infinite wisdom, saw fit to save the twin planet. The people of Dehalle were unaware of this mercy. God didn't need thanks; he was simply pragmatic.
But the beings of Dehalle committed too many sins. God stopped paying attention to it for a mere thousand years. When he set his sights on it again, the humans were extinct. The air was foul. Obscene races populated the barren planet, using a social hierarchy based on fighting, cannibalism, rape, and torture.
"He was furious," I say, feeling the echo of that divine rage. "He sealed the thing so no souls could escape his anger and punishment. He turned it into a prison. The worst, most corrupted beings from Yollan are sent there as punishment."
"He gave the corrupted souls one chance," I continue. "To repent through their suffering and be sent back to Yollan. The less corrupted could escape Dehalle when the worst from here get sent there. So, it became a prison of torments. Especially for normal people who fall through the cracks, who have to kill to eat, who get violated daily."
After this, God stopped looking at it again, confident in his work. He deserved everything he had. He worked his way up, having many people to look after.
"Millions of years pass," I say, waving my hand to speed up the illusion. "The solar system faces the threat of destruction. Actually, the whole galaxy was going to be blasted due to the extinction of a star cluster. A wave of bent space and time was dismantling everything in its path."
"The only solution was escape, but he wanted to save the world too. So, he focused on building the most fantastic spell he ever created. He culled and employed the ancient races in the center of Yollan's core and built the God's Castle. Only godling-level people can go there, as the pressure is too high for normal people."
"Within 500 years, the spell array was complete. A marvel of mathematics and divine geometry. It was, and is still, designed to transport the solar system to the outer edge of the universe. The safest place he could think of. Then, the spell would stabilize everything once over there."
I show him the cataclysm approaching. The Yollanians were solemn, but the Dehalles, the Devils were ecstatic.
A massive energy movement was going to happen, and they were not going to miss this. They intercepted Yollan souls, sending lesser demons on missions and investigated what they could. They set their own spells in secret.
"Power," I hiss. "They wanted power. This race knows nothing but fighting for dominance. They have weak, strange bodies of all shapes and appearances because they reincarnate very fast. They all give birth, not only the females. A human would become like them; as long as they are on Dehalle, they re-incarnate into Devil progeny. They reproduce so much that most babies are stillborn, making them a feast for the living."
"Once the God activated the spell and realized the stolen energy, it was too late. He had to keep going with the supply. He managed to patch up the holes with some help, but he used his own vitality to complete the spell."
I pause, letting the image of the dying God settle between us.
"Once the planet was stabilized in the new space, he spoke to us."
I mimic his voice, soft and tired. "I won't live forever anymore."
We cried. "Why did this happen?! No!"
He smiled. "This is fine. There are other places to visit after death. I want to go there. My soul is strong enough to move on from here. I'm just too curious. Be careful; the Devil race from Dehalle did this. I suspect when I'm not around, there will come a time when they escape the seal. I don't know how, as I realize in my life there are a lot of things I failed to account for. I'm just proud of this family and this world."
He lived for twenty thousand more years before his natural death. No one would mess with him, even on his deathbed.
He built academies all over the world for all the races. He helped with the Common Language across the continents. He built the Sacred Strongholds near the Mountains of Despair, the area where the devils reincarnate and closest to Dehalle.
"Then," I say softly, "God passed his genes equally to most races until he could not anymore. The few last years were secluded with his family. He spoke of the key moments of his life for a hundred years, and his life was so long that they could go on almost forever."
"Instead, each member of the family learned a different part of his life in the same time lapse. As if he was personally telling them a story, alone. The Father God then fell into eternal sleep."
I dispel the illusion. We are back in the throne room.
"With the power we had, we closed the God's Castle and split up to start our own bloodlines. Millions of years passed, which brings us to the present day."
I look Sam in the eye. "Every 257 years, a Holy War occurs at the Mountain of Despair and the Holy Strongholds. The God did not account for the fact that Devils could end up infiltrating society, like today. A lot of godlings paid the price and died at their hands. They realized a bit too late, as the teachings of the Father are lost to the common people. The remaining pieces are scattered across this huge world."
"The devils are winning, Sam. They corrupt people and kill them at the right moment to transfer their souls to Dehalle. Now Dehalle is gaining power through evil methods of all kinds. Feeding on pain and despair, blood, flesh, souls, mind... Dehalle accumulated so many souls that the seal releases bigger demons, or more corrupted ones, every time."
"Little by little, if this goes on, the seal might break. Or Yollan will become the next hell before that even happens."
Sam P.O.V.
The silence that follows Ari's story is heavy enough to crush a lesser man. It is a lot to process.
Ammit, oblivious to the existential dread filling the room, has long since retreated to my stomach to sleep off the teleportation sickness.
I stand up, my joints popping. I don't wish to overstay my welcome, and frankly, my brain is full.
"Thank you," I say, bowing slightly. "For the hospitality, and for the truth."
"We will meet soon enough," Ari says, a sad smile on her face.
I leave the potted sprout with her.... I turn and slowly make my way out of the throne room, my head swirling with thoughts of ancient gods, star-spanning spells, and a prison planet that is hungry for my soul.
As I walk back across the golden pavement, the heaviness begins to lift, replaced by a cold resolve. I hum a few lines of an old song, the acoustics of the hallway carrying the melody. Lines from a battle song...
Of course, Ammit cannot resist the music. She pops out of my stomach, eyes wide and tries to imitate the way Ari had flown and danced that morning, twirling clumsily on her little legs to my humming.
"Careful there, little eater" I chuckle.
It is so damn cute it almost hurts.
We reach the tunnel leading out. I stop and turn back toward the sanctuary in the earth. I bow deeply. "Thank you for the meal!" I shout.
I nudge Ammit. "Say thank you."
She bows, mimicking me perfectly, but then bursts into tears. She can feel it, my intent. We are leaving. This is the first time she will be stepping outside of this fairyland. She was born here, tasted the best food, slept in the softest beds. The outside world is going to be a rude awakening.
"Hey, hey," I coo, crouching down to wipe her tears. "It's going to be okay. We have work to do."
I cuddle her for a bit until the sobbing subsides into sniffles. I smile, pat her head, and stand up.
"Ready?" I ask.
She nods bravely, clutching my finger.
I take her hand, take a deep breath of the filtered, magical air for the last time, and walk toward the exit.
Toward our destiny.