blueteamnovel 699. The Clockwork Prophet
699. The Clockwork Prophet
699. The Clockwork Prophet
Trembling hands clasped at her wounds as she felt Deiman slowly crawl to her side.
“I don’t know what I am.” He answered her, his voice suddenly filled with sorrow.
Mae finally pulled her gaze from the earth, looking up at Demin who was far worse off than she was. His body was beaten purple like the faint light that pervaded the drab chamber they entered, and yet he was able to push himself onto his feet without complaint.
One eye was sealed shut and bled bloody tears. His tail shivered, bent in irregular angles. Instead of groveling like her, he leaned over her frame and calmly said:
“But I want to know. Can you tell me more about me?”
“... How... can you do that...?”
Deiman tilted his head to the side, one of his ears twisted and unresponsive due to the fall.
“Even as a Shell... how can you stand there... and ignore that pain?” Mae desperately wanted to know his secret. “Magic...? Cast it on me too... Did you drink something...?”
Deiman shook his head.
“... then how...? How? How can someone... live like this? I thought I... I don’t know anymore. I just want this to end. I can’t even move... my fingers. Talking... hurts so much...”
An eternity seemed to pass before Deiman could answer her.
“It’s always been this way.”
His words, though devoid of emotion, carried memories of his endless misery.
Mae who experienced this pain for the first time could not imagine being acclimated to such pain. The last time she felt like this was when she died to the hands of the Amalgam. But at least that was a quick death.
It should not have reached Mae’s hearts. The old her would’ve laughed. She would’ve taunted him and put him to the test.
“... What have I been doing...?”
Her mind was still in a daze. Coherent thoughts were impossible to form her spiraling thoughts. Hands tried to reach for reeds but to no avail as she drowned in a river of contemplation.
“... I don’t know anymore.” She whispered.
A large river gushed beside them. It came through a hole built into the staircase directly. They were in the Underflow, but there was no soul in sight. The frigid cold worsened her condition.
Suddenly, Deiman held out a hand to help her up.
“None of us do. But what you’re experiencing is like when someone that’s been living in a cave for all their life experiences the sunlight.”
“... I wonder how’ll they’ll feel if I told them about this...” Mae struggled to walk, requiring Deiman to support her.
They moved as quickly as their bodies allowed them to. It was not much faster than a powerwalk.
He must have hit his head several times along the way down. She didn’t know the significance of the voice, nor what he meant by that. The fact that he remained silent unsettled her.
“A clock and a bird. A cuckoo clock is in your head. Will you spit out a bird at the stroke of midnight?”
“I don’t know...”
The two were surrounded by pillars of chains. They vibrated like the cords of an instrument. The sound caused Mae to wince. Water splashed against them as the river flowed more violently downstream. Crashing water could be heard further ahead as they slammed against boulders with enough force to crack them.
Behind that place in the far distance was a subterranean harbor. It was devoid of life and activity from what they could see, but there were sailless boats docked there. Large cargo ships more than one hundred meters across sat anchored in waiting bays, ready to be released towards the main highway of the Underflow.
Suddenly, just when Mae had found a ray of hope –
“Exit is prohibited, as it has been charted by the Astrolabe.”
– A shadow of despair consumed it.
The hollow yet clearly living voice of the Clockwork Prophet announced from behind them. And just as Mae teleported to avoid an anticipated attack, she was stabbed in the stomach by a silver lance.
“You... predicted that...!?”
She had teleported precisely where a floating Gear had appeared. The lance appeared from the hole of the Gear, impaling her effortlessly.
“The azimuth of your location was predetermined. Stand down, O’ miserable Maestro.”
7 more of these Gears came from the body of the Clockwork Prophet, as 360 additional Gears churned beneath his robes. His head was no more than a giant Gear with a faint, blue light that shone in the center like it was his consciousness.
It was unknown what else resided beneath his robes.
Furthermore, his arms, which were concealed with long sleeves, bent and twisted unnaturally for they were filled with air. There were no legs to carry his form. He floated, and his long robes hid the fact that he had no longs.
He was no more than a giant torso with a head.
The robe he wore was a spectral dark blue that saw additional silver Gears riddle it, some of which contained brain matter or pieces of what used to constitute the Gear before their untimely transformation.
They turned with purpose, powering the Clockwork Prophet that had Mae precisely where it wanted her.
His presence was undeniably of a being close to divinity. Even the waters seemed to slow in his presence, as if hailing him as they passed.
“Do not resist. The Brightest Star wishes to see you alive. The mercy he grants is unparalleled. There is nothing stopping me from returning you in pieces so long as you are still breathing.”
“You’re... WRONG!” Mae shouted, teleporting again.
This time, her arm was impaled, causing her to scream at the top of her ragged lungs.
“FORGIVENESS ISN’T WHAT HE WANTS!”