Vigor Mortis

Chapter 164: Both

Once again, I find myself walking the halls of the Progenitor’s mansion, staring at the ceiling and trying to piece together the image despite the many memories I’ve lost. Destroying Malrosa’s memory core didn’t just remove most of the memories from her previous bodies, but it also means that the memories of my current body, while far clearer and more detailed than any memories I’ve ever had as a human, aren’t quite flawless. Even if I manage to walk through every room and hallway in the massive building, I might not be able to piece together a perfect picture. I feel a profound sense of loss at that, despite how trivial this little ceiling-game is. I might be walking to my death right now, I have more important things to be thinking about than an impossibly expensive mosaic of jewels.

Such as the fact that the Progenitor’s soul is the size of an entire fucking room. I’ll have to step inside that radius to see her, probably, and if she opts to channel any mana while I’m there, the pain will be unimaginable. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to deal with that issue, since only Galdra was strong enough for me to worry about that back on Verdantop, so for it to come back into play now is a little jarring. Hopefully I’ll be immune to the effect while hiding in my tunnel, because I doubt I’m getting through this meeting without at least a little magic being used.

I, after all, need to have a teleportation spell prepared. Just in case. I think I’ll need to peek out of my tunnel to actually use it, but that will barely take a second.

Hopefully I won’t have to, of course. One of the Progenitor’s personal guards escorts me to her chambers, which all things considered is not a reason to be alarmed. If I was surrounded by guards, that’d mean something was up. Just one guard is totally normal, at least insofar as a personal summons by the Progenitor can be called ‘normal’ at all. The creator of our species is not a particularly social woman. Like her soul, she’s cold and orderly: not devoid of love and compassion but certainly disinclined to show much of it. Despite her impossible accomplishments, despite how she’s created a utopian society of happy citizens, she herself seems perpetually bitter. At least, that’s the impression I get from my sparse memories of her, my brief glance at her massive soul, and what I’ve heard from those who know her better. The Progenitor is not someone to mess with.

And if things go poorly, this won’t be the first time she’s executed a Queen.

“The audience hall is before you, Princess,” the guard informs me as he brings me to an enormous set of double doors. “It is here you will speak with the Progenitor.”

“Are you… not coming in?” I ask hesitantly. Doesn’t her guard normally accompany her?

“I am not,” he says simply. “You will speak with the Great Mother alone.”

Okay, that’s probably bad. Outwardly, though, I just signal assent and understanding with my eyes before pushing the double doors open and making my way inside. The audience hall is absolutely massive, built like a cathedral to a god. Even though I’m walking into the same room as the most dangerous person I’ve ever met, I can’t help but have my attention stolen by the architecture. The massive ceiling rests hundreds of feet above me, the centerpiece to the work of art encompassing the entire building. It depicts the many horrifying eyes of the Mistwatcher, surrounded not by the roiling yellow of the mists themselves but instead a brilliant series of white dots set in a background of black, a fantastical vista unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. The mosaic is hardly the end of the room’s majesty, of course. The ceiling is held up by massive columns of pure crystal, giant gemstones of red, purple and blue larger than most trees. They flank either side of the exquisitely-crafted walkway, leading the eye inevitably towards the throne at the far end of the room, in which the Queen of Queens imperiously rests.

Then I finally look at her face-to-face and have to choke down a laugh.

She’s… she’s so tiny! Haha, what!? The Progenitor is an itty bitty baby Athanatos! She’s so fucking cute and fuzzy! She barely comes up to my waist! Aaaaaah!

No, bad Vita! Why are you acting like this? Queens look like this all the time, it’s a natural part of the rebirth process! The Progenitor is just in a new body, she’ll be up to normal size in less than a year. It’s not cute! Gah, except it totally is cute! Curse my human instincts! Small things are cute, that’s just how it goes! Except that’s dumb and in this particular case incredibly dangerous! I’m like, a personal living example of how deadly small things can be, this is a horrible time to be laughing. The Progenitor lounges with a bored posture, one elbow on the arm of her mighty seat so she can rest her head in her palm. Despite her tiny size, the old monster’s eyes glower with frigid weight, brooking no disobedience.

I still my amused twitching as best I can, approach the throne, and kneel in front of it how I know I’m supposed to.

“You asked to see me, oh Great Mother?” I prompt hesitantly.

“I did indeed, Princess Malrosa,” the Progenitor intones, and I very stoically do not laugh at her squeaky, high-pitched voice. “It has come to my attention that Venatila’s and Nagatilka’s investigations into your soul may have been… lacking in rigor, after your recent accident.”

Fuck. Okay, stay calm.

“What do you mean, Great Mother?”

“Hmm,” the Progenitor hums, her multifaceted eyes maintaining a completely unreadable expression. “A curious answer. Asking a question is not technically a lie, but it nonetheless implies a degree of ignorance we both know does not exist. I suggest you discard any notions of your own cleverness, child. If you are under the impression that you will be allowed secrets in this chamber, that there is any chance you will be walking out of here without telling me everything I want to know, I suggest you discard them. I do not have the time or patience for conversational games.”

She lets her eyes narrow at that, a purposeful reveal of her thinly-veiled fury. She has nothing less than perfect control over her own expression, which means the glimpse at her anger can’t be anything but a clear and undisguised threat.

“I… ask me anything, my Progenitor, and I will answer to the best of my ability.”

The ancient child on the throne before me sighs, sitting up slightly.

“You spoke the name ‘Nawra’ to the Clear One known as Bahregar,” the Progenitor intones. “You then claimed you learned the name in a book. This is impossible, because no such book exists in Liriope. You will explain this discrepancy to my satisfaction.”

Oh! This is… not what I expected, actually. I guess she didn’t see me after all? Except… wait. How am I going to explain how I know Nawra without giving myself away?

“Well I, um… I lied to Bahregar,” I say simply.

The Progenitor doesn’t respond. She just waits.

“I… I learned the name from the p—I mean, from the savages of The Plentiful Wood. I do not know how they knew of the name, but it seems to be what they call the Clear Ones.”

The Progenitor continues to stare at me. I swallow nervously, saying nothing. I… I mean, that’s all completely true. I don’t want to give too much information, so I just have to hope I can satisfy her with a partial answer.

I feel the mana move the moment I notice her hands twitch, and by then it’s too late. An unseen force clamps around my neck and lifts me into the sky, my hands and fingers bound and twisted painfully behind my back.

“I could deconstruct the absurdity of your words,” the Progenitor says flatly, slowly emerging from her throne to stand imperiously with all three feet of her height, “but that would imply that this is in some way a conversation, one in which you are entitled to some maneuvering, some back-and-forth with which you might worm your way away from the truth. This would be a waste of my time and yours, so allow me to be perfectly clear: you will tell me everything, or you will suffer as I extract the knowledge raw from your soul. Do you serve the first Lich, child!?”

The first Lich!? Agh, I don’t have time to think, I need to say something!

“No!” I answer firmly.

“Have you spoken with her?”

I hesitate for only a moment, and the chitin on my neck cracks as the Progenitor’s grip tightens.

“You are wise to be afraid, child,” the Progenitor hisses. “But you’d best be sure you fear lying more than you fear the truth.”

“I-I have,” I admit. “I’ve spoken with her.”

“When?”

“E-earlier today,” I tell her.

“Did she ask anything of you?”

“Uh…”

My instinct is to say ‘not really,’ because she didn’t make any major requests, but I stop myself, taking a bit of time to think carefully back over the conversation.

“She… asked me not to bring attention to her,” I tell the Great Mother. “And she asked how to refer to me. I think… that was it? Most of the conversation was her answering my questions.”

“And she deigned to answer? Tell me you did not annoy her, child.”

“Yes, she answered! And no, she seemed happy to talk to me.”

The Progenitor glares.

“I see,” she says flatly. “And how exactly did she get into my city without my knowledge?”

“I, um… sh-she didn’t. Ma’am.”

“What?” the Great Mother glares.

“She’s not in the city,” I repeat. “She’s not anywhere on the island, as far as I can tell.”

“Then how and for fuck’s sake why did she contact you, child?”

I stiffen, and of course she notices. Shit. Here’s the moment of truth, I suppose.

“Um. W-well… okay, so I, um… I might not…”

I wince as pain shoots up my arms, which I assume means ‘get on with it.’

“I’m not entirely Malrosa,” I blurt.

She says nothing, which I take for the demand to continue that it is.

“I… okay. When I killed someone from The Plentiful Wood and they damaged my soul it wasn’t… I mean it isn’t just memory loss. I… I am them. Kind of. Halfway? I’m Malrosa, but I’m also Vita and Vita is like her. I’m like her. I’m a Lich, and Nawra spoke with me because she considers us family.”

Slowly, carefully, I crawl out of my tunnel, hiding my prepared teleportation spell as I slither out into the hollowed-out spot that was once my memory core. The Progenitor, who of course has been watching my soul this entire time, expresses an emotion other than anger for the first time: surprise. And then, if only for an instant, a bit of fear. I quickly retreat back into my tunnel to escape the horrid burning of being inside her Watcher-channeling soul, and the pressure once again tightens around my throat, more of my chitin splintering under her arcane grip.

“So,” she says. “You are not my great-granddaughter, but in fact her killer, wearing the still-breathing flesh of your victim. You have attempted to hide your presence from me as you make contact with the oldest and most dangerous person in existence. And all the while, you have been leeching the benefits of my society, of my family, believing you can get away with it all. Is that right?”

I try to swallow nervously, but find that I’m unable to with my esophagus crushed.

“I’d describe it as ‘hoping’ more than ‘believing,'” I say. “But essentially, yes.”

The air temperature drops as silence stretches between us.

“I will offer you a short window,” the Progenitor says with perfect calm, “to convince me not to destroy you.”

I take a shuddering breath.

“You should let me live,” I say, “because if you don’t, my sister will never forgive you.”

The Progenitor scoffs derisively.

“You know very little of your sister if you think Nawra will lift a finger for you,” she sneers. “That old bitch cares for no one but herself.”

“I didn’t mean Nawra,” I say. “I meant Talanika.”

“You really think she’ll side with you?” the Progenitor sneers. “I know what you are, parasite.”

“Well I don’t!” I snap back at her, kicking my legs indignantly. “Y-you think this is fun for me? You think I’m like this on purpose? I’m not! This is completely insane! I barely even know who I am anymore, grandma! Malrosa is only as dead as Vita is! They both killed each other, and they’re both me, and so now both my homes are at war and I have no idea what to do!”

Again, she responds with silence, but the slight dilations of her eyes indicate to me that it’s not fury or expectation that delays her response, but deep thought. Calculations run through her ancient mind, and thankfully her next course of action is not to try to kill me, but to ask another question.

“‘Both’ your homes, you said? And you still consider Talanika your sister. Is the same true of your mother, Galrotta?”

Damn it, I have way too many moms.

“I… I don’t actually remember Queen Galrotta very well,” I admit. “I’m not sure we—”

“You haven’t seen each other in the last fifteen years,” the Progenitor confirms. “Yes. That’d be outside your current brain’s memory centers, then. Very interesting. Are you claiming loyalty to Liriope, parasite?”

“I’m not a parasite!” I insist. “My name is Malrosa, and this is my home.”

She narrows her eyes at that.

“You’re not lying,” she realizes. “You consider yourself Malrosa? Not this ‘Vita’ person?”

“Well… no,” I admit. “I’m also Vita. It’s… it’s complicated, okay?”

The Progenitor drops me at that, and I land on my hands and knees, rubbing at the fractures on my neck.

“I do hope you’re not unduly offended by the rough treatment,” she states emotionlessly.

“It’s… it’s cool,” I mutter, committing the damage to memory so I can heal it faster once I have an opportunity. “It’s not the first time I’ve been choked half to death by a terrifying old woman. And when you crush a human’s throat, they stop being able to breathe.”

“You are an odd one,” she notes.

“I’m not sure why anyone would expect someone in my situation to turn out normal,” I mutter.

The Progenitor barks out a single mote of laughter, climbing back up onto her throne and plopping imperiously down on its stony surface.

“Tell me Vita’s story, child,” she orders. “If my kin still lives inside you, and she still wishes to be a child of Liriope… I have no inherent objection to hosting a Lich of our own. But I must know the woman you were, that I may judge who you have become.”

“Well,” I begin, “Vita’s life was certainly a lot worse than Malrosa’s.”

No part of me is a particularly good storyteller, and every part of me seems to have different ideas on what story I should tell. My struggles in the slums define me as much as everything that came after, but I find it difficult to articulate the things that happened in that time in a way that really conveys why. The fact that I suffered isn’t the important bit, not really. Nor is the fact that I rose beyond that suffering, because I’m not sure I really ever did. It’s more about what those years did to me, how they shaped my constant expectation of danger of pain. I have to move on from that without being satisfied, though, moving on to discuss Verdantop itself, my time with the hunters, the perception event, being imprisoned, and so on and so forth throughout my life. It’s only when I start talking about Liriope itself that the Progenitor interrupts me.

“You were born and raised on The Plentiful Wood,” she notes. “How do you think the humans there would feel about Liriope?”

“Oh, well, I mean, they hate you,” I say simply. “And I doubt seeing any of Liriope would make them hate you less. Most humans would be pretty disturbed by the setup you have here, I think.”

“But you aren’t?”

“It’s… jarring,” I admit. “It reminds me a lot of my Revenants. But the difference between my Revenants and your workers is that they’re born this way. There’s never a person that they were beforehand, they’re just… like this. Whereas I twist someone into something they didn’t used to be, and that’s a bit more existentially terrifying. Overall, though? I love this place. I love Liriope. I never imagined somewhere like this could exist, and I think it’s beautiful.”

“How much of that is Vita, and how much is Malrosa?” the Progenitor presses. “And how much of Malrosa will die in the coming days? What happens then?”

I hesitate, because the most likely answer is one that terrifies me to my core.

“When… when I possessed Melik, my last body, I didn’t really like it,” I admit. “I didn’t really like him. I didn’t like his body, I didn’t like being a Templar, I didn’t like the way he felt about a lot of other people, I didn’t like his opinions on a lot of things. We weren’t very compatible, and so I subsumed him in a way that… that I’m not sure I’m likely to do with Malrosa. Here, I… I like my body, at least more than any other I’ve had. I like my life, I love my family, and I think my home is… beautiful. I look back on my life as Vita with more disgust than I feel about Malrosa. Even if the Queens here are a bit spoiled and entitled, it’s not in a way that hurts anybody! I mean, except for other islands, obviously. But that’s… well, I hope I can do something about that.”

“Hmm. Unfortunately, we do not conquer other territories for fun. Our island is out of resources, out of space, out of food, and out of water. We are simply packed too tightly inside it, and as such we must import the necessities of living to keep our beautiful society alive.”

“Verdantop is a large and lush place,” I remind her. “I don’t think taking resources from it necessitates the annihilation of its current inhabitants.”

“No, but it certainly makes the process much more manageable,” the Progenitor answers blandly. “I am old, child. I have met with many, many societies of humans. As you’ve said, they hate us. They look at the beauty we’ve crafted and have nothing to compare it to other than the suffering they insist on inflicting against each other, so they call us evil. They are disgusting, selfish, violent, and they struggle with even basic altruism and empathy. I have fought so many wars with humans that I am simply tired of giving them the opportunity to strike first.”

“Things don’t have to be like that,” I insist. “Surely you’ve met good humans as well as bad ones.”

The Progenitor sighs.

“The Plentiful Wood will be conquered,” she insists. “I wish I could compromise on this, but it must be done in the next two cycles or we will starve.”

Cycles being a period of twenty years, which I suppose explains the lack of apparent urgency. That’s more than enough time to wait for the vrothizo to do the job for her. But that’s okay. I knew that from the moment I became Malrosa. So now, I think I know what I have to do.

“I don’t want that any more than you do,” I tell her. “So I’d like to request you allow me to conquer The Plentiful Wood in your stead. Let me rule over my own people. Let me show them the glory of Liriope in a way they can’t reject.”

The Progenitor sits forward in her chair, her eyes flashing with amusement.

“Interesting,” she muses. “You would conquer your own home for our sake?”

“Liriope thrives,” I tell her, “while Valka suffers. I would rather see them both thrive, but Valka won’t do that without force.”

“And your loved ones?” she presses. “Will they not take offense to your sudden passion for imperialism?”

“On the contrary,” I answer excitedly, “I think they’ll be overjoyed to assist me.”

The Progenitor lets out a singular laugh at first, but it’s soon followed by another, then another, until finally she’s roaring with amusement.

“Very well, great-grandaughter!” she decrees. “For the next month, you will be monitored. Your loyalty and mental stability will both be put to the test, to ensure the woman making this promise to me remains the same woman over time. But if the Lich in you does not drive you mad, for the next month you will be trained. Not by my grandaughters, but by me. I will make you a proper War Queen, child. And when we next pass over your second home, you will make it ours.”

My urge to grin is so large I can’t help but twist my mandibles with anticipation, despite how improper the gesture is.

“Yes, Great Mother,” I agree, and I am dismissed.

I let out a relieved sigh as I exit the audience chamber, my body thrumming with anticipatory energy. It… it went well! Something in my life actually just went well! I had a conversation with a powerful potential adversary and now they’re an ally! What the fuck is my life right now!?

I emerge fully from my mana tunnel, stretching myself as best I can within the small cavity of my missing memory core. There’s no need to hide any longer. The Great Mother herself endorses my presence. I have a home here. I did it. Everything went better than I could have imagined. Not only do I have a home, a safe home that nothing and no one is trying to attack, but I have a purpose. A goal. Something to work towards that actually makes sense to me. Of course, the question of how to go about conquering and subsequently running a country is a daunting one, to say the least, but I won’t be lacking in manpower or support. And I’m sure Penelope will be happy to help, assuming… well, assuming whatever she is now is still interested in making a society of immortal humans. But she should be, that was like… her driving objective.

I shudder at the memory of my girlfriend’s horrible patch-job of a soul, a frightening cage crafted out of willpower and self-hate. Can I help her with that…? I’m not sure if I can. Ironically, being a Princess means that I’m her superior in pretty much every form of the art except Pneuma, or I guess what she would call animancy. We’re not taught the ability to create anything like Nugas until much later in life. I suppose Penelope is likely my superior in the art of Life as well, but I suspect there are now things I know about it that she doesn’t. We’ll have to compare notes.

Eeee, I’ll get to actually compare notes with her! I’ll actually understand what she gushes about! It’s going to be so great! I just… I just have to woo her again, since Galdra… took our relationship from her. B-but that’s fine. It’ll be fine. I’ll figure that out. I won’t lose her.

And it is her. Even with all her changes. I’d be a hypocrite to believe anything else.

In the meantime, however, it sounds like I have a month to kill while the Progenitor figures out if my Vita bits will finish eating my Malrosa bits and end up antagonistic, but since I’m fairly certain all of my bits are quite fond of this place I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. Which means… what? I just get a month to relax?

…How the fuck do people relax?

“Mal-Mal!” the panicked voice of my sister cries out as I wander out of the Progenitor’s mansion. “What was all that? Why did the Progenitor want to see you? You scared me!”

Ah. Well. This certainly isn’t it. My victory high collapses immediately in the face of my own loving family. I don’t know if I’m ready. I don’t know if I can be ready.

“…I’m sorry, Tala,” I say, opening my arms up for a hug. She rushes in and wraps two of her arms around my neck, causing me to hiss in pain.

“Ah! N-not there!”

“Mal-Mal are you injured?” my sister asks, disbelieving. “What happened to you?”

“Can we go back to that restaurant?” I ask. “I’m hungry and I need to heal and… yeah.”

“You’re not getting out of explaining this,” Tala insists, putting her foot down.

“I know,” I sigh. “I know. It’s just…”

I don’t want to tell her. I don’t want to ruin what we have. Things are going too well right now, and I’m due for something catastrophic. Telling Tala that I’m not really Malrosa anymore means that she might decide that means we’re not really family. I know what she told me earlier, I know she said she’d love me anyway but she didn’t really know what I meant. I barely know what I meant. I don’t even know who I am.

“…It’s hard,” I summarize lamely.

“There’s more going on than memory loss,” Tala concludes, since at this point it’s pretty obvious. “There has to be, or else great-grandmother wouldn’t have done anything to you. What did those savages do, Mal-Mal?”

I rub my neck with one hand as my other three cast a simple healing spell to repair it. Savages, she called them. Is that what she’ll think of me?

“You… you said that as long as I loved you, we’re sisters,” I stutter lamely. “You mean that? Really?”

“Mal-Mal…” she starts, looking worried.

“Tell me you mean it,” I beg. “Please.”

“Of course I mean it,” she says. “Come on. Tell me why you were summoned.”

“Because I’m not entirely Malrosa anymore,” I manage to blurt out. “Not really. My memories didn’t just get removed, they got merged.”

Her eyes bloom with shock and confusion.

“…What?” she asks. “How… what does that mean?”

“My memory core was hollowed out to make room for another soul,” I explain. “A completely independent anima construct burrowed inside me and made a home and—”

“Well can we get it out!?” Tala all but shrieks.

“I don’t want it out!” I snap back at her. “It’s me! We’re the same person! I’m Malrosa, okay? I promise. I’m just… also someone named Vita now. Vita replaced this body’s soul and Malrosa’s brain still controls it and I’m both of them. Does that make any sense?”

“I… I mean kind of, but also what!?” Tala shouts. “How does that work? How… how much of you is in there, Mal-Mal?”

“All of it!” I insist. “It’s all Malrosa. I love wind-up toys and enchantments and fantasizing about being on the battlefield. I love you, and I have since the moment you were born. But… I’m also all Vita. I’m a girl from The Plentiful Wood that was raised as a starving human but is actually kin to the fucking One Below All, and my entire life has been nothing but shitstorm after fucking shitstorm. I love food and sturdy armor and not having to constantly be afraid for once and I’ve never even met you until yesterday but I am so, so happy to have you in my life, okay? I-I don’t know how to explain this. It’s confusing and terrifying and I don’t know if one day I’ll wake up and I won’t be Malrosa, or maybe I won’t be Vita, and part of me will just be dead forever. I don’t know who’s who or what’s what but at the same time I… I like this, kind of? I’m… I don’t know. I don’t know who I am, Tala, but today I was someone that was loved instead of reviled, awed instead of disgusted, and joyful instead of afraid. And… and that’s better than half of me used to be.”

The weight of silence settles dangerously between us as Talanika’s eyes flick between a hundred different emotions. The thing about having individually adjustable compound eyes is that there’s far more room for nuance and detail in expression than humans have, even factoring in the complete lack of facial muscles. Tala’s eyes can clearly express multiple emotions without mixing them, or it can mix them to express internal confusion at a complex situation. And while Vita directly feels the girl in front of me tumble through a dozen different emotions, Malrosa sees them all play out on her face, witnessing the terror, the suspicion, the anger, the self-chastisement, the guilt, the love, and the resolve all blossom in sequence.

Tala steps forward and gives her sister a hug, and I once again wish I could cry.

“Let’s head back and get you some dinner,” she says. “We’ll talk along the way, and… I’ll get to know that other half of you. Okay?”

I squeeze her back, everything in my body fighting to not break down in the middle of the street. How? How did this all go right again? Are things really going to be okay this time?

“Okay,” I choke out, and we head off to have the best day of my life.