Chapter 45 - Eggshell of Humility

Through the dark trees of Guhojre, in the shadows where their trunks drowned the tri-colored grass beneath, Lazrael walked with his hands in his pockets. His face was frozen, expressionless, thoughtless. He moved with a rigid calm toward a place imprisoned deep within his consciousness.

The trees thinned with each step until he reached an open clearing where nothing grew upon the soil, only the silent circle of trees that surrounded it. He drew his right hand from his pocket, revealing a strange pair of spectacles with yellow lenses.

When Lazrael put them on, his vision shifted. A vast, intricate network of gray walls unfolded before his eyes, a labyrinth, twisted and ancient. He removed the glasses, and the illusion vanished, yet the path before him was clear. Lazrael began walking into the maze that had revealed itself only through the lenses.

Ancient runes, relics of a lost tongue, covered the walls, symbols and emblems carved with wings and thorns, staring down at him with their forgotten eyes. He stepped over moss-covered stones and the ruins swallowed by the green hunger of time. He turned corners, slipped through cracks in the stone, climbed broken ledges, until finally, he arrived at his intended destination.

Before him stood a massive gate, built of living green wood that shimmered with faint emerald light, releasing drifting motes of energy, like snowflakes that had forgotten where they were meant to fall.

On the left side of the gate was painted the image of a young man with delicate, almost feminine features, pale as porcelain, his long hair gleaming with the innocent white of alpine snow where the mountains kiss the heavens. His eyes were a calm, clear blue, gazing toward the opposite side of the gate. The youth was imprisoned within the trunk of a dark tree, whose branches bloomed with crimson tulips, their petals scattered across the lower half of the door.

On the right side, the same figure appeared inverted, a reflection of his opposite self. Here his hair was long and black, his eyes glowed the color of the tulips before him, and he was bound within a white tree, from whose branches fell blue petals.

"Well, well, look who's come back to the Labyrinth of Er'Dir... the son of ******."
A cynical voice echoed through the empty air.

"Glutes..." Lazrael muttered.

Before him stood a short figure cloaked in dark blue, with a large head bearing six eyes arranged across its forehead, two red, two yellow, and two blue. It had six frail arms; the upper and lower pairs folded in a prayer-like gesture, with only the first three fingers crossed. Two small aquamarine horns protruded from its skull as it smiled with an expression both eerie and grotesque.

"You've wandered far these past eight hundred years. I can tell by the scent of the creatures you've met," said Glutes, closing its mismatched eyes with no sense of coordination.

"Do the flies ever bother you when they crawl into those titanic eyes of yours?" Lazrael asked dryly.

"Hihihihihi! The fate of the Moons rests upon the vision of the Morloks. The knowledge they draw from sunlight and curse alike is endless. My eyes see that you've found the final piece of the statue. Speak the words, and the gate will open toward your ambition," Glutes cackled, his teeth clicking unnaturally.

"The Ruin of the Kingdom of Paradise; Mekk'Ilah the Sinner," Lazrael spoke solemnly.

"Hihihihihi! Very well. Let the gate of forgotten visions open," Glutes shrieked, raising his middle hands as the massive door began to shift and creak, revealing a realm only Lazrael could see.

"The Moon Diaboros wishes you fortune. Let us hope it brings no dark omen upon your soul. Hihihihihihiii!"

With a final shrill laugh, Glutes vanished into the green strands of the gate's light. Lazrael ignored the creature's farewell and stepped forward into the passage. The great doors closed slowly behind him, sealing away both the labyrinth and the echoes of laughter that lingered in the air.

A darkness swallowed every corner of that mysterious place. Suddenly, beside Lazrael, symbols carved with draconic horns and ears began to glow green, making the path visible once more. The road took the form of a narrow bridge suspended in nothingness, with no barrier to protect him should he fall.

The glowing sigils pulsed beneath his steps; as he walked, those behind him dimmed, and beneath his feet, streams of green energy began to flow like liquid light, offering a faint illumination in the void.

Lazrael stopped. The streams faded.

Before him stood a statue of a woman, her right arm raised with the index finger lifted slightly higher than the rest. The statue was whole, save for a small missing fragment on her left cheek. Lazrael took the missing piece from his coat and placed it where it belonged.

His eyelids sank slightly. For a moment, his face trembled with a buried emotion as he brushed his palm across her cold, stone cheek, a face that felt nothing in return.

When the fragment settled perfectly into place, the lines along the statue began to glow green, tracing upward like veins of light. Lazrael dropped to his knees, pressing his right hand against the ground in reverence. From the statue burst bubbles of green energy that illuminated the entire chamber.

Dragon statues appeared within the newborn light, ruins bathed in the memory of ages. The place was ancient, untouched for tens of thousands of years: broken slabs, shattered chandeliers, torn murals. The only thing perfect there was the statue, now fully restored by Lazrael's long quest.

Her entire form shimmered in green radiance. Her eyes began to awaken, her lips to move. The bubbles ceased to rise, and the eyes of the statue opened completely.

Lazrael trembled. The weight of her presence was unbearable.

"W-Welcome... m-mother..." he whispered, keeping his head bowed.

He dared not raise it. For no malice so pure, no hatred so absolute, could exist elsewhere in the world. The stench of dread and death spread through the ruins; cries of agony and eternal lament seemed to echo from within the stone itself. The air grew heavy with the burden of murder, curses, and torment.

It was the embodiment of Evil itself; the Dragon of Betrayal; The Twelfth Kindu...

Kindu's voice echoed, deep and ancient, vibrating through the chamber. "La... zarus... Lazaaaarus..." Each syllable was like thunder trapped within marble.

"After thirteen thousand years... thou hast at last restored my spirit to its vessel... my son."

"Th-thirteen thousand years, and I have finally brought back thy soul, mother," Lazrael said, trembling.

"Thirteen thousand years..." she repeated, her tone swelling with wrath. "Thirteen thousand years bereft of my flesh... Thirteen thousand years adrift in the dreams of mortals... Cursed be Agh'Urunda. He hath made me suffer beyond reckoning."

A quiet fury pulsed through the air, waves of spiritual anger radiating from the statue's core. Lazrael dared not interrupt

After a long pause, her voice softened slightly. "Hmm... I sense that Uanamangura yet liveth. At least thy toil was not in vain."

"Th-thank thee, mother... for thy grace," Lazrael stammered.

Her gaze sharpened. "But I see thou hast taken another name... Lazrael. What foul invention is this? And thy hair, dyed in the color of curses!"

"I-I was forced to change my identity... to achieve my g-goals," he explained.

"Ah, indeed... to pursue thy pathetic ambitions," she said with bitter laughter. "I had forgotten I raised a fly that feeds upon the filth of others."

Lazrael's hands trembled. Her words cut deeper than any blade.

"When one is naught but the refuse of creation, one remains so till the end of days," she said coldly. "Tell me, what hast thou done, besides scavenging the rotted fragments of this statue?"

"I-I brought it here... as I was commanded," Lazrael answered.

"Didst the shaman aid thee?"

"Y-Yes."

"And the Egg?"

"I-I have not yet found it," he admitted.

"What sayest thou? Not yet found it?"

He could not answer, fear had sealed his throat.

"Thy duty was to seek the Egg, the heart of all creation. And what hast thou done instead? Lied to fools, distracted thyself with toys! Thou knowest not what thou doest, nor what thou hast done these countless years."

"M-Mother, I understand, b-but the search for the Egg has been—"

"Difficult? DIFFICULT?!"

The chamber shook violently. Dust and shards rained from above. Lazrael flinched as the very ground quaked beneath her wrath.

"Know this, Lazarus: be not deceived by fragments of my soul. They bear no part of my true essence, only a shadow. Thou thinkest thy dealings with them grant thee worth? They do not. Thou art nothing. By giving thee this task, I bestowed mercy upon thy meaningless existence! And still thou failest. Came thou here to gaze upon my spirit? What folly! Without the Egg, I cannot return to my true form for more than five minutes of mortal time."

"I-I know, mother..."

"Bakabali... Spheres of Alitus... worthless trifles! Thou seekest meaning where there is none. Were it within my grasp, I would have cracked open the shell in which thou wast born and cast thee to the Pools of the Dark Cicadas, that they might feed upon thy wretched flesh, at least then thou wouldst serve a purpose."

Lazrael kept his head bowed, too broken to speak.

She hissed in disgust. "Unbelievable... Without the Egg, I am condemned to remain within this prison thy father built for me. And—"

Kindu suddenly fell silent.

Lazrael lifted his eyes slightly, confused. Within her mind, Kindu saw a vision, the witch who had raised the barrier to seal Ladnoria away from the mortal world. She recalled the blood that the witch had coughed after casting that forbidden spell.

Then Kindu smiled. "Heh... hehehehehe... I have found it..."

"F-Found what, mother?"

"The Egg. It resteth within a hybrid... named Alfons Barner."

Lazrael's eyes widened in disbelief. "A-Alfons?! How in the depths did he come to possess it?"

"Most like, that wretched witch aided him," Kindu replied, her grin curling into a sneer. "Now thou knowest what must be done."

Lazrael's trembling ceased. His breath slowed. His eyes grew dark. "Aye, mother," he said coldly.

"I shall slay him."

And his eyes turned the color of death...