Re:Cursed

Nyx had been seen.

She stood at the summit of a forge — or what it had become — and looked down over what was once the revered Fleshforge of the Fleshsmiths. The massive industrial hammer, once a centrepiece, was gone. Lost to the twin seas of flesh and steel. In its place was a sky of broken rails. A thousand arms, as much flesh and steel as the rest of this horrorscape, hung from a dark sky and held what remained of the ceiling of rails in place. The heavy beams all angled toward a single point.

Nothing remained of the figurepiece of the Fleshsmiths. Like all the other forges, the great Fleshforge — the origin of the Fleshsmith cult's mightiest creations — had been warped by the Dark Star. Unlike the lesser ones, which had become volcanic mountains in their own right, the largest forge appeared more like the crater a moon might make should it crash into a planet.

To Nyx's eyes, it was nothing more than an impossibly massive ridgeline, yet it still seemed to be the centre of everything. Twirling her head, she found the wall — half-smitten with flowing rivers and waterfalls of molten resource — lingering in the background, behind all the other forge-turned-volcanoes in a continuous ring. It encircled everything. Despite that, she was certain she was outside the crater, rather than inside.

It was a mind-bending view, and she had to stop herself thinking about it too long. Thankfully, she had something more immediately concerning to tide her thoughts.

Somebody had seen her. Well, if that was all, it wouldn't be a problem, but it was the who and what they had seen that had her stressing. A Fleshsmith. A Fleshsmith had seen her while her mutations were open to the world.

Fleshsmith screams had guided her out from that labyrinth of pipes. Following those echoing wails, the tubes eventually bent and flowed in parallel until she had the space to fly. In the widening gap, she found herself rocketing out through the mouth of a volcano.

Once out in open air again, she honed in on the screams and settled in to enjoy the show as one of those massive whales ripped the ground out from underneath them. Was it the noblest of actions? No. Did she care? Not even slightly. With her third eye, she got a detailed view as they were boiled and eaten alive. If anything, she wished they didn't die so quick.

After years of torment, it was exhilarating to see that something she had caused herself was causing the downfall of the cult that had wronged her the most.

For a moment, she wondered what Dan and Ari, or any of her other ward-mates would think of her if they saw her derive such cathartic pleasure from the pain and deaths of others. Betrayal and clawing at others for your own benefit was common, but murder for the sake of murder was not. That was not to say there weren't others like her; those that wanted revenge. There were. But very rarely were there those that would give up their lives for revenge. And amongst those, few had the means to act.

Here, those who died weren't used to power some ritual, or further her position. They died a dogs death. Nothing but twigs to be swallowed in the engulfing flood of the Dark Star.

Yet those twigs were second, third, and even fourth creed cultists.

Regardless of what her… friends? — considering she'd only spent a few days with them, it felt a little wrong to consider them as such — thought, the deaths of such strong cultists amplified her enthusiasm. Nyx was almost ready rush down and take on a couple of them herself. But the sight of a trio fleeing was quick to return her to her senses. She may have killed a few young harbingers, she may have lit this Dark Star beneath the Fleshsmiths' asses, but she was still only on her first evolution. No matter how she benefit from her mutations, there was still too much of a gap to cross.

So, settled to do nothing more than watch from her immense distance, she allowed her third eye to fall on the fleeing trio. And immediately found eyes looking back.

Nyx froze. Only her tentacle too curious for its own good twirled actively as it tapped along the ground. She should dive out of the way. She should cover herself. Anything to stop herself being discovered. But she couldn't. There was no point; he had already seen everything.

The cultist's eyes were clear. While her human eyes could barely make him out as more than a speck in the distance, her third eye observed everything down to the molecular level. His eyeballs were steady and focused. Despite the distance, he saw her as well as she did him.

Their gazes stayed locked for a full second, before her line of sight was blocked by the volcanic ridge. She could take four steps forward, and they would be in sight again. She could slowly melt them from the safety of distance. Leave no witnesses. Instead, she stepped back, and flew off the other side of the former forge.

In those few moments, she'd seen what sort of gear the three had. Fleshforge weapons of that calibre weren't something you found in low creeds. They were fourth creed, at the very least. But even then, that wasn't the only reason she chose to run before they could chase her.

She recognised the man that looked at her.

K'Thorn'taal was the cultist sent to find her after she'd disappeared from her cell. There was no hiding from him. He knew her just as well as she knew him… or had. But really, she fled immediately because she knew just how dangerous he was.

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Distance didn't matter to him. He could spot an ant crawling on the other side of Coral. Considering just how sharp his eyes were — all those powerful sense additives evolved into single name — it was a surprise he hadn't joined the Cult of the Everseeing Eye. Combine that with his rifle, and he was devastating at range.

Nyx had considered burning them from a distance. She laughed at that thought now. If she had, she would have lost her head before her retinas even detected the flash. K'Thorn was a strong harbinger in close quarters, but at range he was unbeatable. In an environment like this, with vast open space and no way to close the distance unseen, it wouldn't be unreasonable to say he could punch two, or even three evolution tiers above his own.

There were sharks and whales in the molten rivers, but right now, Nyx only cared to get off the open metal plains. She slipped over the ledge of a fissure, and settled out of sight. Below her, there was a lip of fractured metal, as if the massive sheet had snapped. The ledge even bent up slightly, as if it curled away after bursting from tension.

No whales jumped at her. No cultists shot away her cover. She was safe… at least as much as one could be in the middle of a Dark Star.

This was a problem. K'Thorn had definitely seen her. She could only assume word of her would spread through the cultists now. Those that remain.

Nyx groaned, her tentacles curling in response to her emotions. Why couldn't all the higher creeds have died immediately? They should have just done me a favour, and keeled over with the rest.

It was more than likely that all the first and second creeds had already perished to the corruption density alone. The rest were like herself; they would have to survive until they — by chance — found their way out, or destroyed the core. None would be lucky enough for the former. Few were strong enough to even consider the latter. Both Nyx's and every Fleshsmith's only option was to survive until those beyond tenth creed saved them.

This was a battle of endurance. The cultists had to fight the Dark Star. While Nyx had to fight the Dark Star and the cult.

The more she thought about it, the more unreasonable her situation truly seemed to be.

If only Little God hadn't been torn from her. She would have been out by now. Free to… not return to Tarchon's. Had she not got caught up in this mess she'd intended only for the Fleshsmiths, she would have found a rearing ward — preferably the one with Dan and Ari — and snuck inside. She would have kept quiet for a few months until things cooled, discreetly improving herself in the meantime, and the remnants of the cult would be none the wise.

One cult torn apart with ease.

Yet now she had to contend with the same scenario she intended for them? How was that fair?

The jagged, fractured metal was sharp beneath her feet, but she found she had no problem navigating it. It wasn't so much a path, but the shelf half way down to the flowing magma river gave her enough of a hold to walk. Belatedly, she realised her new tentacles were carrying her weight.

Well, all but the one curled up beneath her robe.

She seemed to have somewhat of an instinctual knowledge of how to move each of her mutations, but these limbs were a bit beyond that. It was like they had a mind of their own. Nyx's wings didn't flap on their own, nor did her claws extend or clamp besides when she wanted them to. In that way, the extremely flexible limbs were strange.

Not to say they weren't odd in other ways. Tentacles usually didn't sprout from human's side, after all.

The three seemed to have a far easier time gripping the metal without cutting themselves. Better than her shoes. Lifting her foot revealed the soft soles were already torn up and near breached. At least they would get better.

Nyx urged the fourth tentacle out from beneath her robe, and sent it to help its mirrors carry her. It did so, but she could almost feel the reluctance it exuded. She lifted both her feet above the sharp platform and walked. With manual control over her tentacles, the act of walking as if she were a spider was both unsettling and delightful.

It was like floating, yet she could feel the strength in her tentacles as they acted as legs. She slid across the surface as if it were smooth ice. On one side, not using her legs felt wrong, but the activity of flexing muscles that had not been there a day ago was as enticing as it had been for her wings. Nyx kept walking like this until a revelation struck her.

With these, did she even need her legs?

She could feel the strength they contained. They whether it be speed, power, length or flexibility, these tentacles had her legs beat. Besides looking normal, what good were her human limbs?

The thought horrified her. Had she fallen so far that she now preferred these mutations over normalcy? It was these changes that had caused the suffering of her previous life. She couldn't accept them. She'd spent so long hating them. Wishing she'd never been born with these curses. Could she really consider these mutations as part of herself. As something she would prefer over her normal human body?

Nyx flexed her wings and licked her teeth. She curled a tentacle, and clicked her claws.

Yes.

She'd already accepted it. Despite the dangers, she wouldn't have given in to the call of the mutations if it wasn't what she wanted. If she was truly only doing it for the power they gave, then she would have stopped at one. But by her count, she'd unleashed five. To be fair, the mould hair hadn't shown itself to be useful at all yet, but the acid saliva was enough to deal with the sharks. That was two. Neither her teeth, tongue, or tentacles needed to change, yet she'd pushed forward regardless.

The threat of the Dark Star was certainly there, but after how reluctant she'd been until now? For her to accept them so easily? She might not have consciously accepted it, but she had desired the mutations.

They were so obviously superior to human flesh that it was hard not to wish the acceleration of her changes. Nyx finally admit it. The soft feathers of her wings. The flight they gave. The gem in her chest and the sight she couldn't have dreamed of experiencing before. Her chitinous hands and the pleasant squelch when she crushed something within. She loved them all.

Her human legs may very well have just become redundant, and while there was a part of her that was regretful, it was not the predominant emotion attached to carrying herself like this. It was awe.

Her tentacles were amazing, but the revelation that this is what she wanted, that this was the direction she would continue to pursue, was enlightening.

And yet, it changed nothing.

Nyx's eagerness open her cursed name gave her these beauties, but was also the reason a fifth creed cultist was likely spreading word of her now. The mutations may be her salvation, but she had to remember that they were her curse first and foremost. It might be difficult to hide them now, but it was possible. If she gave into this new temptation, and allowed herself to discard everything human about her, then she could forget her hopes and dreams. She would be right back where she started.

On an altar, sacrificed.