Chapter 12: Twelve
Hidden and ever watching eyes filled the hallways of the Temple of Divine Flight, their presence tangible to the duo searching for pathways up to the top of the tower where the ritual was taking place.
They traveled in total silence, not daring to whisper a word to each other, lest they rouse the ire of whatever was observing them.
Dimly lit by magical torchest that should have been long dead, the divine light of the grounds did not stretch within, and though they were not bothered by traps or monsters, Ezekiel felt a heavy sense of unease within the heavy air of the temple.
He'd had an idea of what they'd find if they had to enter…but this wasn't it in the slightest.
The tower seemed simultaneously larger and smaller on the inside than he would have thought, stretching on to forever, but allowing access to its highest floors far faster than should have been possible.
As they walked, the passage of time felt…wrong here, as though it weren't moving fast enough.
Were they still on Reverie?
Were they still real?
Days passed within the hollow halls dedicated to a goddess that nobody had bothered to inscribe.
Temples frequently took on the bearing and traits of the gods and goddesses they'd been dedicated to, growing and stretching to match the devotion of their followers.
Air that should have flowed freely, fell still as they walked through it, every breath strained with its weight.
The final floor of the tower spiraled like the path below, leading to a central room that glowed with lurid red light.
Windows in the walls to the room spilled dancing shadows out, holes in the crimson glow that threatened to make Ezekiel sick.
Gemma's eyes widened in horror as she looked within, and as Ezekiel looked where she had, he was sick, vomiting almost instantly.
Within the room, Taniel levitated several feet off the ground, her eyes closed and chest still, not breathing.
Sirens flew around the room and a single remaining member of the Choir knelt before an altar that flickered with muted blue and white light.
She clutched her head so hard that her nails tore at her skin, screaming so hard that despite the strange silence of the outer hall, Ezekiel felt he could hear it in his mind.
Then, as she screamed, the final girl's back began to throb and pulse in time with the rhythm of the sirens' flight.
Her robes tore as the flesh from her back liquified and wrapped itself around her arms, pulling them back so hard her bones must have snapped.
The skin hardened and blackened, shards of bones erupting from the rapidly changing forms of her arms, and as the bones tore outward, they straightened and formed long channels that more, much thinner skin, followed, webbing outward from bone to bone until a thin membrane of flesh formed batlike wings.
The ceremonial robes they'd all been so proud of tore to shreds as more of her form rearranged, thickening and thinning until a much more feminine figure remained, the fevered work of whatever lustful madness had begun to mold her.
Her thinner form erupted breasts and her thighs grew as she stood, blood pouring down from her head and covering the rest of her body.
The air around her thrummed violently as the transformation continued, as her feet shook and solidified to thick and sharp talons, her nails growing vicious and sinister.
All around Ezekiel, glass and stone fragmented at dangerous speeds, bursting outward and all of the newform sirens flew up and out of a newly formed hole in the ceiling.
Gemma let the weight of what they'd seen settle on her and she fell backward, landing on her butt and said, "By the Tree."
It was an unspoken rule to never discuss what a newform was, to never acknowledge the most depraved and atrocious acts of those who had come before, but every Exile knew the truth of the word.
The process hadn't been witnessed in generations however, leaving the hope that this no longer happened, a hope that every soul in the Valley of Exiles knew to be false.
Now Ezekiel and Gemma had witnessed the final 'advancement' of the Alltudiaeth, those who had come before.
It was an affront to the natural order, a spite against the fabric of reality itself, and they had just seen it with far too mortal eyes.
Ezekiel pushed himself up, gritting his teeth and fighting against the pain of the World Egg pulsing on his hand, focusing on Taniel, still hovering gently in the air.
That was all he needed to do.
Focus on Taniel.
Focus.
He had a job to do.
He had a girl to save, at least one person to save from whatever the hell was happening in this gods forsaken place.
The light dimmed to a soothing blue and white as he entered the room, and a voice spoke.
"Transference protocol completed, subject compatible."
"What," he asked aloud.
The reticent voice spoke again, "The transference procedure has been successfully completed. The essence of Grand Architect Seris has been removed from Site 5."
"What is Site 5," he asked loudly, but the voice refused to respond.
The altar glowed brighter and the shape of a human hand appeared upon it.
Ignoring the altar, Ezekiel tried to move Taniel, but found he couldn't budge her from her perch upon the air.
Turning back to the altar, he raised his hand and Gemma said, "Ezie…are you sure about this?"
Her voice wavered, still fighting to retain her sanity, struggling to maintain her calm in the face of the insanity she'd been subjected to.
"I don't see another way. She won't move."
Before she could raise another point, Ezekiel placed his hand upon the altar and previously hidden glass panels lit up all along the remnants of the walls and ceiling, illuminating the room.
A small bed lifted up from the floor and Taniel gently floated down, and the voice said, "Compatibility at 95%, now transferring subjects and researchers."
Motes of light filled the air around them and a gentle breeze filled the room as Ezekiel watched Taniel and Gemma fade away.
The temple was once again lit, filling the grounds with light, though now he doubted the divinity of it.
Signs of violent battle surrounded him, torn earth, destroyed pathways, and massive holes and scorch marks dominated the landscape now.
"Initiating Groundskeeping Protocol," the voice spoke, radiating outward from the temple.
All around him, the grounds began to mend, paths reforming and earth smoothing fast enough that Ezekiel wondered if he'd actually seen the damage.
Looking out at the forest, he was stunned to see that there were now no trees where there should have been.
Where wild and unkempt forest had stood, now there were the ruins of a moderately sized town.
Wind blew through the shattered skeletons of buildings that must have been covered over by the passage of time.
The long since past bodies of its citizens lay curled up, protecting each other from some unseen disaster.
Lovers coupled in a final embrace.
Lone standing forms slowly blew away as the ash their bodies had become was finally allowed to rest.
Parents held children, hands covering young eyes too small to know that the end of all they knew was nigh.
The thought rang through his mind once more.
Goblins form in places that have witnessed terrible tragedy.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone