The gateway to hell isn't that far from the base, indicated by a stone archway in the side of the mountain. It isn't visible until you're right next to it though, and the top of the archway is engraved with the words: Salvation through Damnation. The passage beyond is very dark.
"I was expected a three-headed dog," Galatea says to Tasha. They're the only two people to come for the inaugural run.
"I may be two headed canine plus human and bird, but if it helps any, Aaron's house uses a cerberi as its chief emblem," Tasha remarks as she examines the entrance curiously. "A shame there were no other volunteers; I'm actually a bit surprised you decided to come. I wasn't sure it would be something you appreciated, even if I partly made it for you, after our last big conversation."
"I don't know much about Kai and Samael," Galatea notes. "If they've created something dangerous I should see what it is. You wanted me to challenge myself as well."
"Yes, and I think, deep down, you've wanted someone to punish you for your perceived failings -- as I occasionally do when I'm not doing it myself. I reasoned all that pain should go somewhere, be useful to us rather than expended feeding those we'd rather not feed. It should feed us." Tasha takes a step forward, runs a finger along the arch, and then asks, "Are you ready, then?"
"Mmmmm," Galatea sort of rumbles. "Sure," she says, and steps into the passage.
Tasha follows Galatea in; unwilling to be the last inside, she walks along side her instead.
What light comes through the entrance illuminates a familiar scene to Tasha: the walls are covered in carved tentacles full of eyes and mouths, just like the tunnels leading to the Source were. It only gets darker further in.
"Oh, how nostalgic," Tasha says of the walls, running her hand down them as they walk. "I haven't seen this in a while, but of course you know where I saw it, so no need to elaborate."
"I fail to see the significance of using it here though," Galatea says. She doesn't seem to be concerned about the darkness, as the floor is flat and clear.
"This is one of the earliest gateways to the realm of the demonic and extra-universal I experienced, so perhaps it serves as a foyer or introduction, a familiar entry to the idea that things will proceed in to the supernatural and hellish. It may also serve as another warning to trespassers who may be over their head, and possibly a test of initial bravery. And, hmm, perhaps a reminder this is a hell created by the familiar, and of the familiar. An allied hell."
As they go further, they come across something else semi-familiar. It looks like a glossy, almost liquid black membrane blocking further passage.
"Oh, this. This is a contact point between our physical reality and the cage of the Source, except of course the Source isn't here and the cage is likely ours," Tasha tells Galatea, possibly needlessly. "It may be part of the way we are isolated from actual destruction."
"It smells like Samael," Galatea says. Although her sense of smell must be very different from Tasha's. She actually seems reluctant to pass through it.
"Hmmm," goes Tasha, again. "Sam and I have been at a distance since my unfortunate training fiasco with your creator and my mentor. I never felt hostility between us, but he does serve certain powers, and that's always a concern." She glances over. "I see your concern and I share the feeling; what particularly bothers you, or is it the same as mine?"
"Just a sense of uneasiness," Galatea admits. "I don't have much experience with beings like him, and I don't know what he's capable of. Kai uses him to help make people."
"He's an ancient demon, spawn of, and possibly avatar of, Nyarlathotep, whose realm is suffering and madness -- though of a different form of suffering and madness than the Demon God I am connected to, Hastur, whose madness appears to be related to revelation, exposure, and other such things. And release. Samael's ability to make people may be due to his nature as a self-contained universe that can 'flatten' and psychically flense souls." Tasha taps her nose. "Well, we should make a decision, in or out? I'm willing to continue alone if you feel you'd rather assess through me."
"Mmmmm," Galatea rumbles again, and then holds out her hand towards Tasha. "Together," she suggests.
"Together," Tasha agrees, reaching out to hold Galatea's hand. And so, she smiles.
"In to the breach once more."
There's no physical sensation when passing through the barrier. Beyond it the tunnel is gone, but the path continues on through a black void. At the end there appears to be a megalithic structure of some sort.
Still holding hands, Tasha looks up at the looming megalith as she approaches it, head cocking to the side. "Not something form my memories, at least the memories I remember." Head to the other side. "I'm not sure as to its purpose, but since it's the only thing here, at least I feel we're where we need to be. Do you recognize it, Galatea?"
"Not quite. Such things are usually observatories or ritual sites," the kirinoid replies. "It is very big though." The standing stones are probably a hundred feet tall, made of a black basaltic rock. The surround a circular area covered in gravel, with some sort of light coming down from an unknown source. "Is this your arena?" she asks Tasha.
"It certainly looks arena-like. Maybe the monolith circle serves as a ward of sorts, an outer limit and containment zone? At any rate, they're certainly high enough to accomidate the kind of powers and mobility we could employ." Tasha begins moving again, towards the supposed arena. "Can't have our devastation spilling out, nor ourselves free if we're on a rampage. This prison was primarily designed for me, but it's been modified for others, including yourself. The foundation is my black marker, of course."
"That thing?" Galatea asks in surprise. "You shouldn't be messing with it."
"Step into the arena to face your challenge," a voice intones. It's Kai's voice, of course. "One at a time, no outside interference."
"I pulled it out of you during my dive in to your mind, I wanted to shoe I was willing to lift your burden, not be one myself, and carry my own pain. I have remembered what it was created to hide. That is part of why we're here." Tasha reaches up and taps her head. "Because it will eat at me, as you might remember in your recovery dream. Or nightmare."
Tasha then releases Galatea's hand. "I'm not one to back down nor let others race in first, so I'm volunteering to go first." And then she starts walking toward the arena.
Once she steps onto the gravel, the rest of the arena seems to vanish for Tasha. Instead she finds herself underground, surrounded by cooling magma on three sides, but with metal above and ahead of her. She's knows this place, it's the crash site of the Fenris. The small dish-like reflector is there, actually active now, and the armored form of Fred Kohler is lying next to it. The hatchway opens, and the GRENDEL suit emerges and approaches her.
Tasha takes it all in; it's been a long time, but the sight of the wreck gives her pause, stirs a sense of regret, empathy, and an indirect forsaken sadness, a ghost of what she originally felt long ago when she realized what this place was, and what happened to the crew. How far she's come -- how far they've come. They're all past this now, and the memory and its strength isn't what it was, but it's still heartbreaking is the way of memorial for which you are a participant in the memory it would keep alive.
When the GRENDEL comes out, Tasha nods, to herself; of course. "Nora," she greets the suit, wary but polite, with a tone of slight deference . She'll mock, tease, harass, annoy and otherwise frustrate her sister-creator, but not here. Not in this place. They all changed, here, and could never go back home.
The suit stops, and then opens up. It's empty. And waiting.
Tasha stiffens, wings going out, as if to look bigger in the face of a personal realization, as if that would cow it somehow. "Ah," she says after a moment, feeling she understands what's coming next. Realizing she'd best get moving before she loses her nerve, not having faced this kind of challenge and feeling the anxiety welling up, she starts walking forward, then breaks in to a quicker stride. "Lets get this done, then."
With each step, Tasha changes. By they time she reaches the suit, she's fully become a Karnor.. though her colors are still the same. There are no wings or hooves to interfere with the fit now.
Tasha looks down at herself, head shaking. Well, she knows the arena is capable of this now, as well as whatever reality her surroundings now have. She doesn't let her reverie impinge on her momentum though; hesitation only breeds more of its kind, and weakness festers. She reaches the suit, and begins climbing in, though it's a little awkward as she never personally operated a GRENDEL. None of them survived the crash -- no one did, save perhaps the AI mind.
The suit seals up around Tasha. She's had this dream before, when she first say the cryptic phrase that altered her life: The bird of Hermes is my name, eating my wings to make me tame. This time the visor doesn't fully close though, so the display isn't visible. The suit moves her into position near Fred, and then locks in place, with only the sound of the air circulation fans to indicate any activity.
Tasha continuously wonders how and why she came upon the poem, and why it haunts her. She considers this, because she has very little else to consider, and she knows what's coming next. Or rather, what isn't, if she guesses right. It is well and good she's in this place and not elsewhere, because what might come could well make her slip. And her immediate future is something she struggles with: should she face it, quiet, and wait? Think about other things, like the poem? Distracting herself seems like a bad idea past a point, it could become avoidance, which she finds only makes the anxiety worse. So she does a bit of both, stopping her thoughts to focus on her situation with the weight of inevitability. A slow death march. It's vaguely relaxing, but it eats at her a little, and slowly. She isn't used to such long, slow, building torments.
"Hello Tasha," comes a voice from behind her. It's Nora. The woman comes around to where Tasha can see her. She's wearing her original flight suit. "Are you comfortable?" she asks.
"Hi, Nora," Tasha replies, playing along, watching the woman with her eyes since her head can only turn so far where she is. "And yes, thank you; it's almost like it was made for me."
"So much of my things do, don't they?" Nora says, not smiling. "I gave you some of my skills, and you.. used them. Used them to take everything I had to struggle to earn."
"I am aware I had easy in that sense, that you earned them through long, hard effort," Tasha says with a kid of neutral low growl, one alpha pairing off against the other, while trying to remain civilized. "I also know that you were born the best, afforded the best of educations, and given a top seating, where I was cobbled together -- possibly one of a great many Tasha piled to reach a high door -- and raised in near poverty on a largely backwards planet. A planet overseen by TerraGens, who left the population in ignorance in order to foster a backup plan. So, I believe we both were given something the other was not. And you needed me. Don't complain worked with the tools you gave me."
A pause, then, "The rest was never yours to begin with."
Nora growls. "You mean Gabriel?" she snaps. "It took me centuries as Tisiphone to free him. You were my tool. But then you just slipped into my place so easily. Took on my mission, and all the rewards it brought. A Titan of your own, after mine was wrecked. And the man I loved. Who I died for."
"You know, you never told me to stop." Tasha tilts her head as much as she can. "And who are you to judge me, you, a being who used living, sentient creations -- your daughters and maybe son -- as tools to achieve what you couldn't reach? Why not speak to us, why not ask? We might have sympathized; we might have understood. After all those long years, you still couldn't admit to needing help, and so you saw us as disposable, objects, to achieve your will. As a Karnor Elite and product of Terra, you should have known better. And as a leader, you should have had humility." Tilt the other way, a frown. "And you even decry my effort to carry your legacy. To restore what was lost. As a mother, a leader, a Karnor, and a ghost, you have a lot to learn, Nora. You are petty, and you think the world is fair, but only if it's fair for you. You decry your situation without empathy for mine. And I have done much beyond our interaction to not need to rest with your laurels."
"Gods are limited in how they can interact," Nora grumbles. "Carrying on my legacy.. would have been fine, if you hadn't resurrected me. Now I have to watch. I have to climb up all over again, have to see you with Gabriel, have to suppress my anger, my jealousy.. for what? What am I now, Tasha? What is left for me to become?"
"What you wish," Tasha replies, brows raising. "You have this universe and now, if you chose, so many others. If you can't see the opportunities, and I would be very surprised if someone of your caliber was unable to and you're not simply growling at me in frustration and resentment, then let me spell it out for you: Let go. Let go of the past. And if that is not enough: You have a second chance where most get only one, and many, none at all. You have most of your knowledge, youth, and resources, without the shackle of Terra nor the expectation placed on your kind. You are unbound, with tremendous potential. You are no longer a ghost; you are not limited as a god. The howling, empty field awaits, and it's distant towers, its dark caves, it's wind and rain and beating storm. Embrace the adventure -- or don't. Enjoy the comfort and peace. Do nothing at all. It's up to you. I gave you as much as I could -- including life itself, which few can ever give, nor replace. Don't waste it by hating me. Don't waste yourself."
"I want what I was supposed to have," Nora says, tilting her head. "And I will best you, somehow. I will always be on your heels, waiting for you to falter. Maybe I'll help you back up, and maybe.." She leaves that last sentiment unsaid. Then she smiles, and closes the visor, leaving Tasha in darkness. Soon after, the fans stop as life-support shuts down.
Tasha just sighs in her suit. She knows Nora will be dogging her heels, and at first it makes her anxious, but then she realizes something: She doesn't need to worry. She doens't need to fear being displaced; what she's earned isn't built of raw accomplishment, nor of besting people. While she has bested many creatures, people, and things, what she has didn't come specifically from them. Failure would have prevented her growth, and perhaps ended her story, but what Nora never seemed to understand was that her barrier with others -- and why others like her -- has less to do with raw accomplishment rather than her interactions with others.
And, on top of it all, Tasha realizes she just feels tired of Nora. That, and she surprised to realize this, she find Nora petty -- and childish. That some part of Nora is beneath her. Beneath her concern, and beneath her worry. For all Nora's glories and achievements, her emphasis on her worst traits and failures has ever kept her from moving forward. In a sense Nora is the being Nora needs to overcome and supplant; whatever and however she looks and acts, defeating her will never fix Nora. It will only deepen the woman's self-esteem problem. She can't have what was never her's, and she can't remake the past -- and that's something even she cannot do. Nor Galatea. Nor Kainudy. There is only moving forward.
However much it hurts.
And so Tasha lays her head back. The quiet comes as a kind of relief, and the coming end of her air supply a, if not exactly welcome, then a challenge to test herself on, once again.
Ultimately she and Nora are different. It is a sad thing, she decides, to fear your own children and need to beat them. May she never do that to Pheeny, nor any other child of her's.
As the air runs out, there is the expected hyper-ventilating, then the dizziness. Suffocation doesn't induce hallucinations, at least, and Tasha realizes that Nora at least isn't making her suffer for long. Nora was in the suit for days, slowly going mad from the torture. When Tasha finally blacks out, it's a familiar blackness. Then she's back next to Galatea and the giant standing stones, outside of the arena.
Tasha has a sit down, rubbing her face, eyes, temples. "Has Kainudy even looked at you with jealousy? Tried to beat you, claim you stole everything from her?" Talking helps her focus. Her last death was relatively quick; this one lingered, and yet the mercy of its speed felt a little condescending, which is it's own torture.
"I was her house," Galatea notes. "When I knew her she was fragile though. Did you experience salvation, damnation, or something, as you hoped, useful?"
"Useful," Tasha says, then she sucks in a breath, exhales, and leans well back to look up at Galatea. "My creator, she resents me. Maybe less or more now, the sense I achieved what she wanted then took the tools I was given and what she wanted achieve and made it mine. I'm likely not the first, did you know that? The first entity created to fulfill her wishes in the circuitous ways deities perform complex predicts of how a mortal will tread and how that might achieve their end. I was just the one who managed it. I think it galls her that I succeeded, because by her standards, I didn't deserve it. I'm less than her. A cobbled together tool to complete a goal. She has a lot of the elite in Karnor Elite." But then she shakes her head. "I don't want to imply she's all bad. Nora just has per problems; she was in a extremely competitive environment and her reward was to die terribly, with all she wanted out of reach -- until I came along. And I brought her back, we did, so now in one way or another she lives again. But... " Tasha spreads her hands, looking a little plaintive in it, and uncharacteristically vulnerable. "I feel like I've moved beyond her. I don't need to compete with her. I have my own thing, and my own achievements. And... And I see the folly that is her way of thinking. Where it leads, what it does to her."
Galatea twitches. "Your creator," she says. "Well.. the match maker anyway." She looks into the arena. "Kai wanted to fight me," she notes. "Do you think that will be my challenge?"
"I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't know, and shouldn't tell you if I do. Part of the challenge is stepping in to the arena, not knowing what's coming, I think. For when it's just you in there, I mean." Tasha slowly pushes herself up, then reaches over to pat Galatea on the shoulder. "I know I can't interfere when you're inside. I'd normally say something like 'you can do it', but this time I think it needs to come from you. You need to do it."
"Mmmmmm," Galatea rumbles. Maybe it's a new expression she's trying out. With the encouraging pat, she steps into the arena. For a moment nothing happens, and then a figure enters from behind one of the standing stones on the other side. It isn't Kai, unless Kai can perfectly imitate Kainudy. The dragon stops and sits on her haunches, a halo of black flames above her head. "Well," she says. "I believe you had some things you wanted to get off your chest, Galatea."
Tasha walks over to sit at the outside dge of the arena, cross legged, hands back behind her and braced on the ground, letting her lean back, relaxed. She's glad she got what she did offer her chest. She's come away feeling more mature, more together, and in a sense larger. Larger, it seems, than Nora. She has her own immensity now, and she has walked beyond.
And now, it seems, It's Galatea's turn. She knows Galatea's built far differently from her own quasi-artificial creation (and artificial recreation for that matter), with different rules, hangups, and resentments. Despite Galatea's vast experience and long travels, she isn't sure at all how she'll deal with her creator. She didn't say much the last time they'd met.
Galatea.. trembles. Finally, she asks, "Why? Why did you abandon me? Why did I kill all of those people?" There's a pause, and then, "Why didn't you love me?"
"Is that all?" Kainudy asks. "Am I to blame, Galatea? I left you with all the power you needed to defend Genesis. But instead of fighting, you waiting until you were overwhelmed. You could have crushed them, one at a time. They were tortured being, so it would have been a mercy. But just hid behind a shield, and hoped an adult would come and save you. Genesis burned because you would not grow up. Would not take the responsibility that comes with destroying an enemy. You were a coward."
Galatea falls to her knees, and then shouts at Kainudy. The stones shake, and the dragon's main blows back while the air seems to be boil. When it's over, Kainudy asks, "Where was that when everything you loved was being attacked?" Her voice is annoyingly calm. "That is you true guilt. That is what made you purge the wicked. You, Galatea. Not some instinct or override. Just you, and your guilt."
Even Tasha winces at that. She didn't know the full story and -- now that she thinks about it -- isn't sure who would. She was told Kai was asleep back then, so, then, who..? Samael? Could he possibly know, or is it his patron that knows? Though, she can't see Nyarlathotep talking in killing for mercy, she can absolutely believe He could fake it to cause emotional harm. More than believe. Unless...
No, Kainudy is still fighting. She can't be here too...
Can she?
Tasha frowns more, and watches on, unsure how Galatea will face an answer she's surely realized and might have been dreading for ages.
Tasha's ears flick. So Galatea purged the survivors for they wouldn't know her failure. And exceptionally hard lesson, and it is a failure as she sees it, both in execution and in execution. Cowardice, and then more to cover it. Shameful, in the extreme. No wonder Galatea always rejected her attempt to help her past things -- not knowing the full truth, her words would have always rang hollow.
And then she realizes something else: Galatea didn't see or hear her interaction, because sure Galatea would recognize Nora, unless she lost her memories and therefore Tasha's? Or, is she, Tasha, meant to see this, too?
"I had faith in you," Kainudy continues, and Galatea falls to hands and knees both now. "I depended on you to protect everything, and you failed because.." The dragon pauses, tilting her head to one side. "Because you didn't want to become me. You didn't want your actions to slowly destroy you, even if it meant losing everything. Didn't want to pay the price for doing what was necessary. And what did avoiding it get you? You just created your own hell. And when you found out I was alive.. what did you want. For me to tell you that you did well? That it was all my fault? Sin must be faced before it can be forgiven. I'm sorry that you weren't up to the task. I hid so much from you, but you still must have known my regret and pain."
Galatea is silent, staring down at the gravel. "You haven't grown up," the dragon says. "You haven't sacrificed. You've just run away and hidden. You have to accept things as they are, Galatea. You have to accept yourself before anyone else will." Kainudy contemplates the prone figure for a few more silent moments, but when Galatea doesn't respond, she turns and walks away into the shadows.
Eventually, Galatea gets to her feet. "I haven't sacrificed," she says. "My innocence." Then she turns and walks back to Tasha.
Tasha exhales through her muzzle, ears canting back. She's been on the receiving side of a great many revelations as to her weakness, but she's never sat -- literally and figuratively in this case -- and watched someone else endure the same thing. It feels uncomfortable personal, yet Galatea is her partner, in a sense, and some of what Kainudy said is what she herself has said, so there's a connection. Yet, now she sees why she wasn't able to make much progress, there'd been more, and she wasn't going to find it unless someone revealed it to her.
When Galatea walks back, Tasha looks up, ears perking, but she doesn't say anything, doesn't frown or smile, just looks up without judgment and without consolation.
"I'm a coward," Galatea admits. "I don't know.. how to not be, Tasha."
"I see." Tasha tries to say it as gently as she can, after all, Galatea's come this far on her own, now's the time for encouragement. She pulls a hand out from behind herself and holds up a finger. "But not as much of a coward as you may think. You did, after all, chose to walk in there. You must have known, deep down, how it might go."
"That's the point of this place, isn't it?" Galatea says, a bit muted. "It's a mirror for the things we don't want to see, but need to in order to.. move on."
"That's what it's purpose is, yes. When I saw the pain in you, your inability to move forward, how we endlessly torture ourselves without moving forward or growing, I had the realization that we could harness our pain and make of it something useful. That we were asking to confront our need to suffer. We just didn't know how." Tasha reaches up to rub her nose. "I'd say it's working well so far, what do you think?"
Galatea looks down at her hands, her face twisted into an expression of.. well, it's hard to tell. "I executed all of those people," she says. "I judged them guilty and sentenced them to death. Because.. it's what I should have done before. Fought. I don't know what to think. I don't know yet what this will mean for me. I'm afraid."
"What they represented scared you. Dead, they could tell no tales. You either abandoned them or you murdered them because you couldn't face your failure, couldn't face what it meant, couldn't endure their questions. Or, maybe worse, them looking to you for leadership, to rebuild. You fought the helpless to bolster your weakness, and won." Tasha raises her brows, then goes back to putting her hands back to the ground, leaning back, looking up. "You're not the first. To murder people for the crime of being inconvenient, to knowing something you don't want them to, for being a reminder of your pain or weakness. That is all true." And then Tasha tilts her head back and forth. "If you could do it again, what would you chose?"
Galatea looks up into the empty black sky. "Fought," she says. "I know it would hurt. I know.. it would be the end of my childhood. Afterwards.. I might be seen as a monster, or feared for other reasons. But everyone would still be there, whatever they might think of me. I wanted to be loved, to be coddled. I'd be sacrificing that. I know now it's what I should have done."
Galatea's reverie is broken by Tasha clapping her hands together in a loud smack before she hops to her feet, then Galatea feels hands on her shoulder. "Well good news Galatea. While we can't, as far as I'm aware, change what happened, you are in a position to help those who might otherwise be lost. You are in a place which has become the seed of a new world. People are gathering, and they know you. You are among, if not friends, allies and acquaintances who are willing to learn and know about you. And you have a chance to decide a future yet unwritten, to try and ensure what happen does not come to pass again." And then she smiles. "Half of us here are monsters. I am, the dragons are, Kai and Samael, Batty too. The mercenaries. Maybe Shojo. Vasha. Whisper, though she doesn't know it yet. Even poor Pheeny, though it wasn't her fault. And you know what? A secret? Being a monster doesn't prevent you from being loved. There are, after all, other monsters, and there are people who either don't care or are willing to look past it. And there are of course people who revel in the fact."
"And to share the guilt," Galatea suggests. "I would like to leave this place now, Tasha," she says.
"That too, though don't rely on it too much. It can be easy to let a group of people convince you you've done nothing wrong, even if you secretly believe you have. You will have to guide yourself, ultimately, Galatea." And then Tasha snatches up Galatea's hand. "Successful test. Come on, lets get out of here. The hot springs are waiting."