Re:Cursed

The first part of Nyx's plan progressed better than she could have hoped.

Solan and her retinue made no effort of discretion. Nyx didn't even need to poke her head out from where she hid to know they'd blown apart a volcano on their descent to the Dark Star's core.

She'd waited a few gongs to be sure the monstrous cultists were well and truly gone before she acted. Thankfully, as tall as their fortress now rose, those that remained didn't notice her. The massive chains slithered and reformed after each transference, which meant the Fleshsmiths had little choice where they set their fortress.

Until now, they'd avoided the increasing number of fissures and rivers. But with a tower as obscene as this, that concern had become moot. Thanks to that, Nyx had faced nothing but sharks as she crept beneath the lip of the river. Then, just as easily, she slipped away.

Nyx flew low over the waves of steel as she did her best to stay out of sight from the fortress. It would be better if she crawled along with her tentacles, but she was now on a timer. Those above had a thousand additives. Who knew which one might reveal her. But even if they spotted her now, it wouldn't be the end of the world. Still, She dared not peek over the fissure.

A gummy leapt from the river and she ducked. The fleshforged took a mouthful of her long, flowing mould, snapping the strands free without so much as a jolt to Nyx. The thick, semi-transparent hair reacted immediately. Before the shark could reenter the waves again, the mould had spread all over its body; seeping its roots deep into the fleshy parts and locking its movement.

Running a hand through her glacial, hair-mimicking strands, she found the branching mould only shoulder length. It was her preferred length, but she'd given up on ripping it short. By the next gong, it would hang back below her wings anyway.

She wished she knew what was making it grow so much faster.

Well, it wasn't the worst thing. For hair-that-wasn't-hair longer than she liked, she'd discovered that by munching on the ends of the strands, it made a rather helpful healing salve. Not nearly as good as her blood enhanced rituals, but it meant she could fix up her lips and cheeks when she accidentally bit through them.

Something that occurred a bit too often for her liking.

When she'd crossed enough distance that she felt relatively safe, Nyx rose from the fissure and flew straight for the little dug-out she'd made for herself on the side of a volcanic forge.

Nyx reached it without opposition.

A tinge of nervousness washed over her. It was all going to plan, but she'd been expecting something to go wrong. Did all the cultists go down with Solan? No, that couldn't be right; Nyx could still feel their amulets. The sudden fear of being baited with fake signals hit her. They knew that was how she'd been finding them after each gong, after all.

She shook her head and stifled her jitters. Even a cursory consideration would show how unlikely a trap was. The signals had been moving. The cultists had no reason to believe she would go for the mass of them when she'd only been targeting individuals until now. Not to mention that the tower was the safest place for them; why abandon it?

Now safe in her little pre-made bunker, she turned her attention on the tower. Even from a hundred kilometres away, it appeared massive. Doubts immediately started again at the sight. Concerns she'd had since she'd come up with this plan, but only now that she was implementing it did they feel so real.

What if those flesh-chains defended the fortress even without Solan's input? It was possible; they moved by themselves with each gong. But really, Nyx was relying entirely on them being the same as any other Fleshsmith creation, and only able to enact simple automated acts. Reliant on the power of their user.

Nyx clicked her tongue as she realised she was spiralling again. She did not have the time for concerns. Either the tower remained a tower, or she considered the plan a loss and fled before things could reach their worst.

She began her hymn and the ritual glowed.

Hidden entirely by the angle of the volcano and the dug-out of metal was the ritual circle she'd begun etching into the land from the moment she appeared. A river of flesh had flowed into it, filling the void her claws had left in the steel. Her first ritual not to use blood.

A second, then third voice joined the first. Synchronised songs carried down the volcano and bound along the surface far further than natural. In response, the lines of flesh caught fire. They spread the blaze the full length of the ritual circle; just as intended.

Nyx narrowed her thoughts. The inferno followed suit, shrinking until it was only a low burn over the ritual runes.

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This was one of the ceremonies she'd learnt from K'lon. A summoning rite. The target was unspecified, so she needed to focus on the type of creature she was after. Even then, it was neither sure to work, nor was she guaranteed what she desired. Considering such, she'd opted for a sacrifice. Nyx needed to overcharge this ritual as she always had, but she wasn't certain her blood alone would be enough.

In the centre of the ritual, Nyx reached down with her claws, grabbed her foot, and severed.

Gritting her teeth, she watched as a part of her foot fell. Of all the parts of her body she was willing to give up, a couple of toes seemed the easiest. Her legs had almost become redundant with the arrival of her tentacles.

The cleaved outer side of her foot never hit the ground. The flames curled out from their lines and softly embraced the severed part of herself, keeping it afloat. Her eyes traced the clean cut where blood dribbled out and pooled into a ring that lazily orbited the foot.

Nyx cast her mind inwards. She trusted her tentacles to strike any encroaching sharks as she sunk into a meditative state. Her worries and fears washed away as a calm settled over her. Immediately, she focused on the creature she wanted to manifest.

Lotophagi. Creatures of bliss. Small, fat, flightless birds that held almost no sense of self preservation. Usually, they're not a problem for even the weakest of cultists, but the birds could push through even the worst of pain as if they have no senses. They felt no fear, nor horror. Only bliss. And that was the sole reason Nyx wanted them.

For as long as Nyx had been stuck here, it had become obvious that the fleshforged were almost insulted by positive feelings. Why would she take all the risks associated with summoning a monstrosity when she already had some here? The lotophagi's blinding delight would bait the whales into an assault on the fortress.

Of course, sacrificing a part of herself for such pitiful creatures might be a little overdoing it, but she intended to summon a swarm. The more there were, the less likely the defenders could take them out before they led the whales right to their doors. Even at the cost of a foot, she needed to be sure it would work.

With her mind set, the hymns leaving her lips and tongue suddenly felt… off. It was right, just not exactly. Without fear of failure clouding her judgement, she shifted tones. The two voices coming from her tongue dipped an octave while her main tune shifted higher in pitch. The nonsensical lyrics shifted, as if she spoke a language she didn't know.

The flames turned pink.

As her song reached its crescendo, countless ethereal beaks formed from the hot pink flame to nibble at her floating severed foot. It looked like it was working. In a few moments, Nyx would have an army of small happy birds ready to rush to their deaths for her. She let out a sigh of relief.

Too soon. Almost as if in response to her expectant thoughts, the pink fire extinguished. A candle blown out. Plumes of black smoke rose from runic lines and swallowed her sight of the landscape beyond.

Nyx thought it was a failure, but before she could stop her hymn, she noticed her severed foot still floating. Cradled now in smoke rather than fire. The ritual was not yet over. She dove back into performing the ritual, no longer with any concept of what she was summoning.

A giggle to her right made her jump. She turned as something white dissipated through the smoke. Defined enough that she knew something had been there, but no so clear that she could determine what.

Again. A child's laugh. Again. An indistinguishable form.

Nyx continued her songs as the eerie smoke grew thicker. She tried not to focus on the creepy laughter as she finished the ritual. It was surprisingly easy. Barely any effort and her concerns fled her mind. The thought of success excited her. She was so close to crushing the last hold outs of the Fleshsmith that had survived the Dark Star that was supposed to kill them. A grin pulled at her lips.

The last few notes of the song left her lips with an enthusiasm she hadn't felt in a long time. Her song ended abruptly; both her voice and the echoes around her ceased in unison. The smoke around her seemed to harden, and a deep, sinister laugh boomed through her surroundings.

Euphoria. Joy. Pleasure.

Nyx joined in; laughing with the creepy, full-toothed grin that appeared in the smoke.

No. This is wrong. Nyx thought. The whales…

The suffocating feelings of happiness were suddenly crushed as she fell back into her meditative state. Barely. Just barely had she pulled herself back into the mind numbing mental state before whatever being she had unwittingly summoned twisted her mind into an endorphin slushy.

Noticing her desperate resistance, the being only laughed louder. Their voice fracturing into a chorus of a thousand voices, each with their own floating smile.

When the bellowing finally calmed, the mouths faded back into the background, leaving only one. This single bodiless grin slowly floated towards Nyx. She could feel it's euphoric influence still trying to pierce her mind, but she was able to fend it off now that she'd noticed it with the help of her meditative mind. But it was close.

This was by far the strongest mental influence she'd felt. With everything she'd gone through so far, she thought she was resistant and didn't have to worry, but apparently that was arrogance. If she hadn't noticed it when she had, she might very well be this being's slave already.

"Oh my! Such a fine sacrifice. Surely this was intended for me, and not some feeder-fish, right?"

The voice was definitely masculine, but had a twisted, high-pitch undertone as if a dozen children giggled in the background. White claws — both glowing bright, and lacking any illumination — toy with her severed toes.

"Who are you?" Nyx managed, stifling the sudden urge to burst out laughing.

The bodiless smile tilted slightly, and despite lacking any visible eyes, Nyx knew it had pulled its attention away from her sacrifice to inspect her thoroughly. For a moment, the air seemed to still as the whispered giggles ceased. But it was only a moment. The being's mouth opened wider, releasing a bellowing laugh that Nyx only just realised was affecting the sharks around them.

Small gummies let out squeals as they squirmed in piles. A larger great white bobbed along the surface where it now floated like a balloon, wheezing out chortles that left it incapable of moving.

"Nỷx," he started with a tone of amusement, as if testing the name. "The outcome of me telling you my name now would be… well, hilarious." He giggled. "But it would be quite short lived. Both for you, and me. So just call me Euphoria, for now." He gestured to her sacrificed foot. "Now, why don't you tell me what it is you desire for this contract."