The Legend of Randidly Ghosthound

“Tomorrow,” Elhume confirmed, looking around at the three individuals he had gathered to help with the creation of humanity, as well as the Prophet who constantly lingered around. The group didn’t have the sort of professionalism he would have wished, but it would have to do. At the very least, he trusted the Patron of the Deep and the Patron of the Borrowed. With their efforts, they could cover up for the disturbingly young-looking Engraving expert the Patron of the Deep had invited.

The stranger’s ability to incorporate both Aether and Nether together would be a nice touch, but it didn’t make Elhume any less wary.

The Patron of the Deep frowned. The drawback of his prodigious talent was that he possessed opinions on everything. And needed to share those opinions, lest they swell his body until it popped. “Should we truly attempt something so momentous while the Nether forces siege our far shores? Perhaps remaining in reserve to reinforce-”

“We need to act at that exact moment, while hostile parties will be distracted.” Elhume’s eyes flicked to the Prophet, who had put forth this plan in the first place, but ultimately agreed it was the most expedient.

That impression remained in him, even now. Yet he felt like he had begun to drift. The space around his thoughts crackled with static electricity, seeming to imply that if he touched them or tried to alter them, he would be shocked. After a strange moment of disembodiment where Elhume felt unmoored from what he had just been saying, he clenched his teeth and continued to speak. “The working we do will attract a great deal of attention and require us not to be disturbed. This is the best chance.”

“But the casualties without our presence…” The Patron of the Deep saw the logic in what Elhume said, yet remained uneasy. His body hummed with his tension.

Elhume’s strange premonition that the buoyant Patron of the Deep would soon pop strengthened. His untouched thoughts crackled, surly yet demanding attention. He did his best to ignore those distractions, even as the back of his neck began to prickle. “We fight for the soul of the isolated universe. If we allow Pine to die, what does it matter who wins the war? All with sink into the absence he leaves behind.”

The Patron of the Deep bit his lip and warred internally for several seconds. Elhume felt a vein in his temple throb. He needed the Patron of the Deep, not just for his particular flair in creation, but for insurance. To be sure, after simply following the damnable advice of the Prophet and seeing the solutions they brought seem diminutive next to the problems that kept cropping up.

The static in Elhume’s head buzzed. He looked at the Patron of the Deep like a cut of meat, rather than a friend and confidant. A soap bubble on the surface a bath.

The Patron of the Deep sighed. The fat of his neck jiggled. “Perhaps you are correct. Dramatic epochs inevitably populate themselves with cutting choices. The universe seeks to teach the unfortunate mundanes that you cannot have it both ways. So it falls until our responsible shoulders to make the proper determination.”

When the Origin Beast had finished with his poetic waxing, the group got down to brass tax discussing the humanity they would be creating. The shape, the capabilities, and inevitably the costs they would pay in order to, in the words of the Patron of the Deep, ‘draw forth the raw clay of potential from the ether’.

Despite the continued crackling emptiness of Elhume’s head, he felt good about the process. The young Engraver brought by the Patron of the Deep surpassed his expectations almost instantly, providing creative solutions. His style was unique, but the competency he demonstrated quickly rid Elhume of the flash of doubt and confusion he had felt when the man had arrived.

After they finished, the Patron of the Deep drifted off with the unfortunate Engraver in his wake, refusing to cease gushing about how great humanity could become, with the proper guidance. The Patron of the Borrowed nodded and departed as well. Which left Elhume alone with the Prophet.

He pressed his lips together. “We cannot simply stave off another problem; Pine cannot survive at this rate. I believe the inclusion of certain… restrictions will serve us well.”

The Prophet’s disgusting, bulging eye on his chin glimmered with poorly concealed glee. “The proper bindings, written into the essence of humanity with ensure-”

“Not bindings,” Elhume shook his head, curiously numb with the constant static of vacated thoughts but sure. He might have compromised so much of his position, but creating a race with designed fail-safes he could use to control still struck him as being monstrous. More monstrous than he wanted to be. “...but perhaps locks. Three of them in the frame of humanity, keeping their true potential hidden within the labyrinth of their vast depths. And we create a very simple series of directions we give to them. So while they are unknowingly following the proper procedures to provide the raw stories to Pine, they would unlock these bindings naturally. Without understanding we are the architects of their growth.”

The Prophet considered Elhume with his wet eye. His two eye-mouths twitched, still amused, seeing right through Elhume. “Such an endeavor would be exceedingly complicated. If you didn’t bring up the issue with the group… you won’t choose sophistication, I suppose. You will simply overpay.”

The static in Elhume’s mind seemed deafening. From far away, he heard his voice respond. “I will make my own preparations. You make yours, Prophet. And so we are clear… if this plan, too, fails, I will extract the price from your joke of a Cult.”

*****

Congratulations! Your Skill the Cloak of Utter Night (P) has grown to Level 1020!

Congratulations! Your Skill Yearnings of the Nether Heir (P) has grown to Level 1113!

Randidly sat in silence, looking around at the gleaming walls of the cave system. Their strange illumination had the scent of a sophisticated security system, but it just made his mouth curl into a mocking smile. The Cloak of Utter Night was wrapped tight around his body to hide his presence, even at the edge of the Cult of the Savior’s compound. He could almost feel the amusement radiating outward from the Skill, perhaps due to its relation to Nyx.

Despite his confidence in the Skill, Randidly carefully schooled his thoughts from thinking too deeply about where he was and summoning their watcher. He carefully recreated the Cohort-assumption mechanisms in his mind, until he had dissected and digested all of its secrets.

He looked up sharply when he heard footsteps coming down the passage. A strange smile danced across his face. How strange interactions have become. How circular. In retrospect, it all seems inevitable. The climax was set in motion long ago, even before I knew its shape… luckily, I have the capability to take advantage of what I can now see.

To others, such inevitability might drag them into tragedy.

Padraic strode purposefully around the corner, his brow furrowed in deep thoughts. He had matured, transforming from the foolish kid who had tried to help rescue Devick when Randidly had first jumped into the memory into a passable knockoff Master, his robe gleaming with cleaver Engravings lined with Nether principles.

He didn’t notice Randidly’s presence until they were almost upon each other, due to the Cloak of Utter Night. But when Randidly suddenly revealed himself in his path, his gape of astonishment was followed by a look of delight. “Nether King Hungry Eye! My eternal benefactor! What a pleasure to run into you at this juncture! Are you also involved in-”

He paused, perhaps suddenly realizing the project on which he now labored might not be common knowledge. Randidly offered him a sad smile, apologetic and complicit. “Look, Padraic, I will not mislead you. I understand you are trying to create a race from nothing. You intend to call it humanity. And I want a favor regarding this process.”

Instantly, Padraic’s face turned heavy. He bit his lip. “...you know, I do consider you to have irrevocably altered my life for the better. But if you wish to sabotage this endeavor, I will not allow-”

Randidly flicked his wrist and produced a small piece of Engraving he had created, relying heavily on Neveah for the more inspired arrangements. Honestly, almost the entirety of yesterday had been dedicated to its creation, leaving him with a thunderous headache that even now knocked at his temples.

The tightly knitted manifestation of energy perfectly resembled the platonic ideal of a heart, pulsing softly with a potency that made the tunnel walls seem dim. Whorls of impeccably arranged lines spun together across its surface, a thousand hearts of slightly varied sizes superimposed upon one another. Each, at a near-microscopic level, had been created with a slight variance in the shape of the lines with which they were drawn.

As close as Randidly and Neveah could figure, this would be the perfect distillation of potential. A core to sit at the heart of humanity, to lay out a thousand possibilities for their growth and to allow any Paths that lay between them. Compared to the sort of energy crossroads that sat at the center of the humanity Randidly had been born, it would be almost three times more efficient.

“Gorgeous,” Padraic said in awe, able to glimpse the genius of the working instantly.

Randidly nodded his weary agreement, still in awe of what Neveah had done, still feeling the effects of the effort he had poured into it. The genius was in the light pulses from each individual heart shape; they occurred at regular intervals, but the different flashes of light were on slightly staggered times. So over time, different heart patterns would activate in unison, leading to a completely different whole.

And that wasn’t even talking about the Nether Ritual Randidly had used the Hollow Needle to sew into the fabric of the heart. A shadowy sort of working that could only exist in the flawless heart's flaws.

Padraic took the heart with delicate fingers. His eyes flicked back and forth, cataloging its shape, its light, the beauty of its lines, the vast complexity of the twinkling working. “I’ve been struggling to produce this exactly. A way to plant a seed of potential within the core of the race. We can offer them energy, surely, but without structure channels through which the energy can flow-”

Abruptly, Padraic frowned. He looked more closely at the heart.

Randidly’s lips twitch as he observed Padraic with fondness. You’ve truly grown into your own, haven’t you?

“...it’s… well, fragile isn’t the right word.” Padraic chewed on his lip as he flipped the Engraving over, checking the back as though there would be an answer hidden there. “I guess it would be more accurate to say that this heart… can destroy itself. I wouldn’t collapse from external forces, not from being squeezed or strained. But the heart will crash into a barrier and shatter, of its own volition. It is written into its nature. To rush headlong, with enough power to destroy itself.”

On itself, it might inflict flaws. Or rather, it cannot help but shatter the perfection. Randidly nodded in agreement. He glanced around before he spoke, spreading out his Cloak of Utter Night more heavily around their position. The longer this meeting lasted, the riskier it became. “But isn’t that the nature of hearts? They are so easily broken.”

Congratulations! Your Skill the Cloak of Utter Night (P) has grown to Level 1021!

“Well, yes, but this isn’t really a heart, even if you designed it to look like one.” Randidly could practically see the calculations rising from Padraic's head, drifting in the air before the hurtling momentum of his intelligence moved on to other problems. His words sped up, half in excitement and half in worry. “This is… potential is also too small a word. Its a shape. Half of the image which will become the race of humanity. The problem… well, I can’t imagine what would trigger the heart to break itself. It’s… so unpredictable. Living beings are unpredictable! Perhaps, once they live and breathe, a sufficiently strong emotional trauma could shatter their shape into pieces.”

“And give these humans a genuine chance to become anything,” Randidly said gently. “Or nothing, yes. But Padraic… you cannot provide only positive shapes for this new race you are creating. They need to be exposed to the negative too. Because it’s the choice between one Path and another that becomes our most defining characteristic.”

Padraic just stared at Randidly.

“If it makes you feel better,” Randidly continued, “I suspect the heart will be broken from the beginning. I do not think the genesis of humanity was planned by unselfish hands. So I ask you this favor. Both for me… and for humanity. They might shatter, but despite the pain, then every road will be open for them to choose.”

Padraic continued to stare, but all the calculations ceased. Randidly watched him, wondering what he was thinking about. Some of the nagging doubts, of which there had been a slew since he had begun trying to corral possibility into the sort of situations he needed, swarmed around him in that silence. If this connection fell through-

Randidly felt the slender thread of Nether binding Padraic to him. If that couldn’t support the weight of the ask-

“A favor,” Padraic whispered, finally breaking the silence. He pocketed the pulsing heart and turned away. “A heavy favor. But I do understand… how it could be an insurance policy for this yet-born humanity. And to that, I cannot possibly say no. They would be my legacy. I wish them only the best.”

He began walking away but then paused once more to look over his shoulder. “You appear at the strangest times in my life, Nether King Hungry Eye. Sometimes, I wonder if you are real at all, or just a character plucked out of a fairy tale.”

Randidly stiffened. Not because he felt insulted, but because he had a burst of unexpected inspiration.

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