Zephrun’s Imperium

Star cursed again, running after him. A wall appeared a few feet in front of Pheonix, she Narrated. "I'm NOT going to hurt you!" And she found that it was true this time. She really wasn't. This is YOUR fault, she thought to Corpse. Author curse you!

Not hearing a no, Star touched Pheo's mind delicately, giving him impressions of memories and feelings Star had had. "Please," she said. "Try to understand."

Star could sense that Pheo didn't understand. "I-I can show you! Mind to mind! With my telepathy."

"Love is the most wonderful thing in the universe," she said, taking a shaky breath. "It's when you care about someone more than yourself, more than anything. It... Well, it makes you do crazy things. Maverick - my husband, my lover - and I were together for ten years before..." Star cursed herself for breaking up. "They killed him!" she said. "They... I have to do this!"

"The Narrators killed someone very dear to me," Star said. "Someone I was in love with. Do you know what love is, Pheonix?"

"Look, I killed her, alright! I'm not trying to hide that I'm guilty. But I..." She moved her hand away from where her knife was hidden, raising both arms in surrender. "I can explain, I promise."

Star gritted her teeth. “Pheonix… I don’t want to hurt you. Please.” It was true; hopefully, he would feel that. She rummaged around in his mind to find…. Fear. Sheer terror, in fact. And it only made it worse to know that she had made him feel that way. Author, this was a mess. A terrible mess. Why did she want to keep him safe?! She should kill him, she should KILL him!

She put her hand on his shoulder and guided him to a couch where she could sit close to him. “Pheo? Pheonix?”

“Just…. Stay calm. I’m not gonna hurt you. How about we sit down, Pheo?”

“Yes.” Star stepped closer, one hand out, the other reaching for her mordite knife.

Star furrowed her brow, pausing. “That was… it was blood, dear. The stuff that fills a person.”

Star... couldn't argue with Corpse's logic. Still, her heart throbbed. He looks... sick, she remembered him saying. No malice, no fear. Just genuine curiosity and even compassion. Compassion. For a killer. Star stalked forwards slowly. "How much did you see?"

Star spun around. "Pheonix!" She cursed, snapping to make the lifeless Narrator's remains disappear, and pulling on Corpse's mind to make it sit. "What in the universes are you doing here?"

With her newfound anger and moral justifications, Star continued the killing randomly, focusing on ones who didn't spend their time in groups. Many of the Narrators were willing to talk to her privately, curious about her strange history with a character. And those that weren't - the ones lucky enough to live - didn't suspect a thing. Why should they? They were Narrators; self-preservation was the last thing on their minds. Even if Star was strange, she was still a Narrator like them. Why would she hurt her own kind? As Star continued to kill, she began to realize just how deeply her fellow beings didn't care. None of them expressed any remorse over the death of her husband, only curiosity at the fact that a Narrator could fall in love - ah, such a strange concept in and of itself - with a character. It only served to make her angrier and angrier. They didn't deserve to live. Every life she took was one less piece of dirt in the universe. She glorified in slitting their throats after Corpse stabbed them. She delighted in feeling hot blood on her hands. She reveled in seeing the light in their eyes die. Star kept the armor on. It empowered her, far more than the dark, revealing bodysuit had. But she also kept the blood-red cape and cast-iron crown. Its heavy weight on her head reminded her of the weight in her heart of the loss of her husband. It was a burden for her to carry page after page without any rest from. Perhaps that was the only problem with her murders. They didn't help ease the pain of her burden. Nothing did. Even alcohol - something she'd never cared for in the first place - made her forget what Maverick had been like, which was not a worthy trade-off. However... she did try to sneak glances of Pheonix around the Hall, just to make sure the boy was alright. She never spoke with him, but at times, their eyes met and she saw the boy smile at her. She would never admit it, but those times made her feel just a little bit lighter. Corpse demanded that they kill him like they had others, but Star always made excuses. They'd kill him eventually. Just... not now. Not while there were other options. ------------------- Corpse stuck its spike of a bone through the Narrator's chest, piercing her Core. Much like the first murder, she started choking on her own blood immediately, lungs filling with the stuff. She tried to speak in shock, but all that came out - besides wordless sounds - was hot, sticky, scarlet liquid. It poured down the front of her chin, staining the front of her gorgeous silver dress. The woman's wings - part of her half-bird body - shuddered. "Goodbye," Star said. She stabbed her sword through the unfortunate Narrator's neck, making her eyes bug out before she died, her corpse falling to the floor. Star started manually wiping off her blade. "Well done, Corpse."

“No,” Star insisted. “We’re not killing that one; He has a good heart.” Impossible . . . Its face shifting, it seemed to glared at Star. None of the Narrators could have a "good heart;" It was the curse of their core. “That one is different.” However, she paused. If Narrators could be “different,” then killing them all was in poor taste. Surely that wasn’t true. “It’s probably just because he’s young…” she eventually conceded. To Corpse, that changed nothing. Even if he was "good" or just different now, he would grow up to be a monster like the rest of them. Better to end him beforehand. It must be done. This one, even with their "innocence" would be included in the justice against the Narrators. All of them must die. Star hesitated, then admitted something she had been denying: “He reminds me of my husband.” The creature's demeanor shifted again but felt confused. “You know. A husband? Spouse? Someone to love and cherish. Someone you bare your soul to.” It glared, for once a pure, powerful, and primal emotion pushing to the forefront of its mind. Past the serenity, piercing the focus that had consumed it came an inexplicable sense of anger. But as quickly as it came, it left. The Corpse continued as if it hadn't happened. Narrators . . . Can't . . . “Yes, we can.” She paused, correcting herself. “I can anyway. I had a family with him, with a character. And he was everything.” Impossible. It was a fact in the creature's mind. Narrators could not feel that way, not sincerely. Their hearts were consumed by their power, leaving only selfishness and greed to thrive. They all deserved death, or they would all only cause pain. It was the corpse's duty to stop them before they did any more harm, and it would die before failing. “They killed him. They killed the best man who ever lived.” Star couldn’t keep the anger out of her voice. "Just... try to understand. I'm in pain." She sat down on the floor, slightly defeated. There was a tiredness within her, the same tiredness that had been with her since the moment she’d felt Astral die. She’d tried to bury it while she killed Axe, but it was still there, lurking. Narrators can't know true pain, they don't know true emotions. Such things were impossible, and the Corpse knew it. It didn't remember how it knew it, but it could feel that it was a fact. "Now, don't be thinking like that,” Star accused. “If I didn't feel, I wouldn't be doing this." Clearly, this was going nowhere. The Corpse turned its head away, choosing to keep an eye on their surroundings instead of listening to more of Star's "emotions." There wasn't a way for one with a Narration Core to understand true emotion, especially that which they caused to others. Star sighed. "Fine, think what you want." The same for the Narrator, so long as their goals continued to align. There was silence for a long while between the two. “I really shouldn’t be alive,” Star muttered. “I’m just half of a whole.” You . . . Speak nonsense. The Corpse withdrew the shard of Mordite back under its skin with a sliding squelch. Oddly enough, there was no blood to seep through the wound, and it became indistinguishable from the rest of the rotting body. I . . . Am two parts. The words she spoke were familiar to the Corpse, but it fought away any attempt at recognizing them. Those emotions were better left alone. Two in body . . . The Corpse tapped its temple. Two in mind. Star raised a curious eyebrow. “Oh? Tell me more.” It paused for a moment and for a split second its mind divided in two. However, the divide lasted for only a blink of an eye before the voices joined again. One . . . Is not enough. Need both for what must be done. "Oh? Whose minds are in there?" Star asked, now fully invested. What was this creature's past? Why did it hate Narrators so much? Doesn’t matter. It shrugged. Whatever they were before was meaningless. All that they cared for now was their single purpose. “Of course it matters,” said Star. “It’s who you are. They must have done something to you, hurt you in some way to make you feel so passionate.” I don’t care for the why . . . anymore. Such a thing would only hold the Corpse back. Distract them in times of great importance. It needed complete focus at all times. “But shouldn’t you?” Star leaned forward, feeling the pull to place her hand on the thing’s back, but refraining out of disgust. The way Corpse’s blackened flesh fell apart and reformed so viscerally was disturbing, to say the least, even to someone who’d (mostly) gotten used to it. No, it thought simply and clearly. Those memories, those thoughts and emotions were left behind for a reason. “Well, whatever they did to you,” Star said, “I’m sorry. Truly.” Was she? The Corpse doubted that Star could even feel such emotions. Star chuckled. “You know, you condemn me for my emotions, then say my emotions are impossible for a Narrator to feel in the same breath. Or… thought, I suppose. You’re contradicting yourself.” Whatever . . . You think you feel . . . It isn’t the true emotion. “Fine. Think what you want.” Star breathed through her nose and stared forward towards the horizon, arms on her knees. “But just know, I think you’re the one whose judgment is clouded, not mine.” The Corpse held perfectly still for a moment before looking towards the Narrator with their cold, dead eyes. Explain. “You see only your goal. No nuance, no nothing. Why ever you wanted revenge, you decided it was enough to sell your soul for. But it’s blinded you. What if Narrators could feel? Then you’d be killing innocents.” It was dangerous territory. Did she really want to debunk her own morality? “That makes you no better than them.” If they could feel . . . The Corpse glared, breathing deeply even though it wasn’t clear if it needed to. Then this justice is more deserving. “Maybe Narrators can be different than the one that hurt you,” Star said. “Maybe… Maybe they have the capacity for good.” Oh? What good have they done for you that you wish to kill them for? “Well, I was able to feel love for my husband. And Pheonix, well… Well, come on! You saw the boy! He’s gentle. He would… he could never be like them.” The Corpse studied Star, worried about her commitment to the promise she made to it. Given time, this “Pheonix” will become like the rest of them. She shook her head. “I… No. I refuse to believe that.” Then you will suffer for it. It was clear that unless she killed this “Pheonix,” he would harm her. In time, she would learn how much the Core corrupted. “And what about me, hmm? Am I corrupted?” You want to hurt them, don’t you? Cause them pain for your own self-interest? “No. I…” She paused. “Well, yes. But I don’t want them to hurt anyone else. Don’t want them to be able to KEEP hurting people. It sickens me to think how many families have been ripped apart by them.” By you? The Corpse searched her eyes, trying to find where her emotion was coming from. How many have YOU torn apart? Star rolled her eyes. She would have been upset, but the thing clearly didn’t understand. “I met Maverick only a few months after I was born. I didn’t have time to ruin anyone’s life.” Maverick? Who is he? “My husband. The one the Narrators drove to suicide. My true love.” The Corpse narrowed its eyes. A man you met only months after being born? Everything about what she said rubbed the Corpse the wrong way, invoking emotions that made it difficult to think. “Yes.” She folded her arms indignantly. “It was meant to be.” He shared your opinion? Corpse felt that they knew the answer. But it dared Star to prove it wrong. “Of course he did. We fell in love the day we met in person.” She closed her eyes, remembering. “It was a love for the ages. We spent ten perfect years together and then… then he was taken from me.” The Corpse growled. A character can’t love a Narrator. You forced him to. It didn’t know how or why it made this assumption, only that it seemed to be the only explanation. “Well, I… I did Narrate the beginning.” She continued quickly. “But that doesn’t make it any less real.” So, it was correct. While not entirely expected, it clicked in the creature’s mind. Suddenly, the Corpse’s head seemed to split into two pieces. One far louder, and feeling a growing anger. Less real? Every emotion felt from him was something you put in his head. “That’s… No,” Star fumbled. “We were meant to be. He loved me.” Only because you forced him to. The voice felt faintly feminine, and slowly defined itself from the other. Corpse growled even louder, its body twitching in strange and unnatural ways. “I did not force him. I simply… guided fate.” Guided? Guided?! Why you- The anger was cut off, the second, far raspier voice reminding her of the purpose. The creature took in a breath, trying to rein itself in. Star didn’t respond. She felt deeply unsettled by the creature’s accusations. She wasn’t like the other Narrators; she didn’t hurt anyone. If anything, she had made Maverick’s life better. Their time together… it was sacred. Surely he had felt that, regardless of how she’d Narrated him in the beginning. She wasn’t evil. Still, whispers contradicted those thoughts. Maybe she didn’t hurt characters, but she couldn’t forget the feeling of hot blood on her hands. Narrator blood. Was that a good or bad thing? All throughout the woman’s wondering, the Corpse watched passively, attempting to find the peace the voices had in unity before the meddling Narrator had disturbed them, invoked those accursed emotions. “I’m not a bad person,” Star insisted after a long moment of silence between them. And yet here they were, plotting the death of hundreds. A couple of saints, they were. The comment made Star solemn again. “I will kill myself at the end of it,” she said. “I give you permission to end my misery if it’s clear we have been defeated.” Corpse froze, watching Star closely as it tried to make sense of what Star had said before nodding slowly. “What will you do when all of us are dead anyway?” she wondered. When all of us are dead. The words brought an image of poor Pheonix’s corpse to her mind. Why should he come to any harm? She didn’t understand why the thoughts kept bothering her, but they did. She hated it. Pheonix was a Narrator, and as such, his race had condemned him, and so had Star’s own. She knew that. She would see this genocide through to its end if she could. And if she couldn’t, she would die trying. The Corpse had not expected to be able to complete this duty, not with the sheer amount of foes, and their insurmountable power. It only blinked but didn’t see a point to existence when one didn’t have a purpose. But that was a question for if it survived this ordeal, whether it be Star who stabbed it in the back or some other force. “Fine, keep it to yourself if you don’t want to think about it.” In truth, Star had trouble thinking about the end as well. Narrators were immortal for the most part, so fearing death was illogical, particularly for those who stayed in the Hall. But with Maverick gone… how could she consider any other option? It was this path or no other. Even if that meant Pheonix’s head on a pike. Her expression hardened The Corpse nodded at her expression, sensing that she was resolved. Some have a saying for this case . . . “Oh? And that is?” The Corpse put forward its decrepit hand, the very skin rotting away from the inside. Victory . . . or death. Star clasped the hand, barely keeping from recoiling at the texture. She felt as though the simple act of touching them might make all the flesh fall off once she pulled away. “Victory or death, then.”

She smiled. "Hang in there." It was only when she left that she realized... she... smiled. Author, she hadn't smiled genuinely since Maverick had died. The thought left her feeling chilled and she summoned a drink to her hands, chugging it much like Shadow had. "C'mon, Corpse."

She smiled, feeling the urge to hug the poor thing. He looked rather like a candle, actually, with that paper-pale skin and the wavering flame on top. "Well. Nice to meet you, Pheo."

"I'm a telepath," she said, tapping her temple. "Just call out mentally and think about me. I'll find you."

"Of course, dear." She patted him on the back, careful to be gentle with her gauntleted hands. "If she ever bothers you again, you tell me alright? I'm Narrator Star."

"Alright. If you say so." Star put her hand on his shoulder to comfort him instinctively when he flinched, surprised that she couldn't feel muscles underneath the fabric of his black and white shirt, since most Narrators - including herself - chose to have sculpted bodies. There was something fundamentally different about this man. She could feel Corpse begging her to kill him, but... How could she? The poor thing looked like he could have been blown over by a strong gust of wind and for some reason, she felt the need to protect him. He was just a boy, after all. "Well, I'm sorry Shadow did that to you."

Star shrugged. "That's how I found it. Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

"Oh. That's..." Star trailed off, looking between Corpse and Pheonix. The boy showed no fear or disgust whatsoever, only concern. How in the world...? "That's just Corpse. It's my... associate."

Star followed his eyes to... Corpse? "Is who alright, dear?"

"Well, you're safe with me, at least; she and I stay away from each other. For the most part..." That was all she'd like to say about Shadow. "Say, I've seen you before. I don't recall your name."