R'lyeh Azem

Of the Longest Hunt

Behemoth (Primal)

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Reprisal Promised


Reprisal Promised

“Venat, come out! As Elidibus did, so too must you be able; if you do not, I will chip away your pathetic armor until there is nothing left to shield you!” Once called The Sun, now the embodiment of blackest rage, Azem floated-bristling with power-upon the aethereal sea. Before her, silent, hung the so-called "Mother Crystal." Even its once bright luster shown dimmed as if ashamed. “Betrayer! Murderer! Traitor! Kin-slayer! Deceiver! LIAR! You had to know that one of them would find a way. You had to know that one day I would come!”
Azem clenched and unclenched her fist, working to master the rage of an entire, immortal race of people destroyed through the manipulations and machinations of the elder primal before her. “What? No, 'Beloved daughter...' she sneered, “No, 'Crystal bearer...'?” A brilliant, fierce energy coalesced in the palm of the Amaurotine's hand: the embodiment of Ardbert's portion of their shared, sundered soul, taken the form of his great-axe. It verily pulsed in anticipation of use against the body of the fiend before them. He had been the first part of them to glimpse the truth. He had given everything to strengthen them so that she might finally see it through. Eventually, all of the others had as well.
Not yet, my friend, she thought. We need not do this alone. Ardbert's axe wavered and his soul rejoined with hers.
Azem cast her eyes back to the giant crystal before her and nodded with finality. “I thought to give you this last opportunity to make me understand your wretchedness, your corruption. Perhaps Venat could still have been saved? That is my way, after all. But no. No longer. Remain within that hulking trash heap, for when next I return I will set you both ablaze and return existence to it's proper state without you. Without Zodiark, without Hydaelyn, and without any further excuses.”
Azem moved farther away from the surface of the crystal and closed her her eyes. She began to draw deep from the free flowing aether that surrounded her in this primordial space. As one of the First People, hers was the power of creation, as had been that of all of her comrades: Elidibus, Emet-Selch, Lahabrea, Igeyhorm, Nabriales, and so many more-all of whom she had been used as a weapon to kill. In their names, she would end this. Forever. She knit together chains of golden energy, surrounding Hydaelyn, clenched tighter than a fist. This was an incantation of eld the likes of which had only been dreamed of-but never employed-not even in the Final Days. Again, she weaved the web. And again. Once for each shard that had been sundered from the source, and once more for the source itself. There would be no more reaching out to misguided heroes, no more calling to the freshly awakened. Her voice would be silenced within these layers of protection for existence without.
Azem remained for a great while in this space, discerning her work against any mistakes, any weaknesses, any holes. Once completed, the aethereal sea once more moved around the body of the elder primal, instead of feeding it, as it had since its summoning many eons before. The very first step had been taken at last, on the true, untempered, course of cosmic correction. Beholden to no gods, no primals, this Amaurotine would ensure this was done the right way.
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