Re:Cursed

Nyxil stared down into the crater that was all that remained of her first Dark Star Event. A metal skeleton built in the massive semisphere gave the basic foundation to rebuild the section of Coral back into a similar space as the rest of the safe zone. Or it would have, if the cults hadn't snapped up slices for themselves.

Between thick girders and towering pillars, she spotted the beginnings of distinct architecture. Fleshy buildings — both moving and not — indicated the presence of the Bodytwisters and Scriptures. Machine God Worshippers focused heavily on construction in the lower pits, snatching space from other cults while leaving the area closer to the surface to be taken away by the Cult of the Everseeing Eye.

The Omen Artisans and Technocult were not exempt. They both built structures of their own — A hanging gallery and some automated factory, respectively — though the space they commandeered appeared lacking besides the larger cults.

Only one cult was absent. Only one had failed to capture the opportunity and snatch up the land while it was available for the taking.

The Fleshsmiths.

Nyxil was giddy at the thought that she'd struck such a blow that they hadn't even been able to compete. In fact, as she looked around the highly corrupted surroundings of the crater, she found not a single Fleshsmith. Either there weren't any out on the surface… or they pretended not to be one.

As much as she'd like to take full credit for the cult's downfall, it was more likely their lacking presence was a result of backlash from the other cults. They couldn't snatch some of the crater because it was believed to be their fault. To hide from ridicule, they don't show their faces. It wasn't quite an eradication, but Nyxil was happy that they needed to face such shame.

Well, even if she was helped by the other cults, the troubles brought to the Fleshsmiths were nothing but a source of satisfaction to Nyxil. Hopefully, things would only get worse for them. Hopefully, that misfortune would spread to the other cults.

Snapping her head away from the ruins — paying no mind to the creatures that lingered along its edges nor the harbingers that hunted them — Nyxil trekked towards the safe zone.

The section of Coral's surface that could be considered a 'safe zone' had reduced significantly. Many buildings had been abandoned. Left to twist and morph beneath the writhing manipulations of corruption. Structures on the outer rim of Coral could withstand such extremes — often relying on them — but those in the centre were not designed the same.

Nyxil ignored the glass-toothed grin of a storefront as it leered from across the street.

It was disconcerting to be back on the surface. She couldn't help the sense that there would be something that would jump out and attack each second, or one of the people she passed would see her mutations and chase her down.

But that never happened.

She even passed an older group as they drank from bottles of eyeblood. The dark crimson liquid wasn't actual blood, but rather a type of alcohol. The blinking eyes inside the glass bottles were real, though. Out of nervousness, Nyxil cast her sense over their names, and discovered most were in their second evolution. Like her.

They didn't pay her more than a glance.

At their lack of attention, her first assumption was that she'd somehow become invisible, not that she didn't look strange. Was it some aspect of the armband? After years of having other people's eyes dragged to her in suspicion the moment they saw her — for fair reason — it was difficult to return her mind to the assumption that people wouldn't immediately see her as a threat the moment they saw her.

But it still took until somebody tried to approach her to finally shatter the thought that she'd become invisible.

Still on the fringes between the safe zone and the lingering corruption of the Dark Star, the area had decayed into something that absolutely did not look safe. Especially for the average girl her age to be wandering around. Even if you didn't consider how the corruption had twisted the structures, the people who remained weren't exactly model cultists.

While there were plenty of people who had the evolution to handle the increased corruption, there were just as many who couldn't. Altercations to their bodies ranged from the slight melting of skin, to deformities with wills of their own.

She passed a pair of men that sat on the bottom step of a portico that might have once led to the front door, rather than the dark alley it now appeared to. If Nyxil hadn't been so wary of her surroundings, she might have missed the way the man with only a single evolution rose to follow her.

The skin of his face was distorted. Veins bulged around his eye, and watching him from the corner of her eye, she saw them move. It was like a spider was caught beneath his skin. Despite what looked like an arachnid crawling inside his face, forcing an eyelid closed as it moved from cheek to forehead, he held an expression of concern.

Nyxil didn't understand why he held such an expression when he looked at her, but something about her had clearly caught his attention. He moved to follow her. His eyes shifting down the street, as if to see if anyone was watching him.

Her bracelet did not make her invisible, after all.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

This was a bit closer to what she'd been expecting. The predictable greed and opportunism of the cultists of Coral. Somehow, it was more comforting to see such predictable malevolence than the inaction she'd faced so far. At least with this, she knew what to expect.

But the man was stopped short by his friend. A hand gripped his shoulder, and they exchanged a few words where he gestured to her sword, then to her missing arm.

How likely was it that his friend had some name that let him sense that she wasn't defenceless? He was at second evolution, so it was reasonably possible. Regardless, with word of warning given, the arachnid-faced man frowned in her direction before nodding and backing off. He still glanced her way a few times before she turned a corner and was out of sight.

Nyxil had a few more instances like that, but most of the time, those who saw her would glance at her missing arm before leaving her be. It was strange. She was starting to get the sense that it wasn't so much a concern about her strength that held them back, but her current single-armed state.

Could it be that they sympathised with her?

She'd come across enough of the unevolved and first evolution people that she knew many of them had significant disabilities. Nyxil wasn't the only one without an arm. Or a leg. She had to remind herself that not all cultists she'd met were self-serving at all times. Only most. There had been some — in the immediate surroundings of the safe zone — that would direct children back to their wards rather than use them as a sacrifice.

Even if her appearance still reflected an age far younger than she felt, the people who at one point in time might have sent her home, now hesitated. Nyxil wasn't the only one in the area that was pale and skinny. It wasn't a stretch for them to assume she couldn't go back, for whatever reason.

It didn't take her long to walk into the safe zone proper. Now back in the cradle, Nyxil couldn't ignore just how clean everything was compared to the streets she'd just walked through. The safe zone was consistently cleansed, but the area infected by corruption — which had only months ago been part of the safe zone — wasn't.

Nyxil glanced back at the path she'd taken. Her lip curled in thought. Now that she'd gone for that walk, she was thankful she didn't take the trolley. Those people were not strong enough to handle that level of corruption, and yet they could not move. No cult would have left their members to waste away in an area that ate away at them. No, those of poverty she'd passed had been abandoned by the cults.

It was her Dark Star that ruined their bodies and destroyed everything they had.

The realisation wasn't new, but it was the first time she was seeing the effects with her own eyes. She'd known her efforts at saving Ari and attacking the Fleshsmiths came with disastrous consequences, but to see it with her own eyes left a stark difference.

Whether these people never joined a cult, were abandoned by them before, or after the Dark Star, it didn't matter. They were not those she wanted to harm. They were not cultists. While she was still frustrated by even the non-cultists' lack of effort to save her when she'd been tossed into the black hole, she could understand why they didn't. Going against the monsters at the heads of the cults was unimaginable.

Nyxil had assumed she wouldn't care about the cult-less the same way they hadn't cared about her, but now that she saw the damage, the impossible situation many had been put into, she found it difficult not to feel guilty.

But that guilt could not compete with her hatred towards the cult leaders. If it ever came down to it, even knowing the pain she might inflict upon these people, Nyxil would choose to destroy the cults over the survival of the cult-less.

Yet, if possible, she would avoid actions that left collateral damage.

Nyxil didn't linger to watch the corrupted region, nor did she let her mind wander to how it might have affected the sanity of its residents. She'd come back tot he safe zone for a reason. Even if she'd caused difficulties, there was nothing she could do to help. Her own plate of troubles was already full, and she needed something to bring her mind away from the stress of her time in the Dark Star.

Hopefully, the two still considered her a friend. She'd been gone a long while now.

She thumped the heavy knocker against the steel barricade, and only moments later was rewarded with the crackling voice through an intercom.

"Name and purpose of visit?"

"Nỷ… Nix." She'd almost said her new name. "I'm here to see Dan and Ari."

"Right, Nix." It was clear she'd picked up on her slip, but that was fine, as long as the woman didn't realise it was a second evolution she was hiding. "Those two returned to their original ward after it was repaired and cleansed. You'll find them there."

Before she could respond, there was a clank within the wall, and the buzz of the intercom died. Nyxil blinked, slightly annoyed at the woman's attitude, before leaving. The walk wasn't long before she found herself before the tall shutters of the rearing ward she'd grown up in.

With another knock, she readied herself to answer the same questions, only for the speaker to roar to life with a clipped "Nix!?"

In an instant, the thick steel was rolling upward and a woman slipped under to almost tackle Nyxil. She saw it coming. Reacting immediately, she slipped beneath the arms swinging to crush her in an embrace as her hand fell to her sword.

A sense of familiarity overcame her as she recognised the woman now stumbling without her target. This wasn't the first time Val'oura had breached protocol for her.

"You're alive!" The caretaker grabbed for her again. This time Nyxil hesitated for just a moment too long and found herself squeezed between Val'oura's arms. This wasn't an attack. "What happened? Where have you been?"

Slowly releasing her hand from the rapier's hilt, Nyxil squirmed. She didn't enjoy the sudden loss of freedom.

"Oh, Iris." Val'oura stared down at her missing arm. "Please, come in." Her gaze didn't linger long, but the older woman never let her go. "Oh, and Nix… please don't tell anyone I forgot to verify again," she whispered as soon as they were inside.

When the opportunity presented, Nyxil slipped from the caretaker's embrace, and she spun her head through the ward lobby. It was strange being back again. Even stranger that the place felt alien.

The layout was identical to her memories, but everything was pristine. The scratches and wear from decades of children was gone. The walls and furniture appeared as new. Likely, when they'd cleaned this place of corruption, they'd refitted everything to its original state.

Nyxil was about to ask Val'oura if Dan and Ari were around, when a clatter from outside alerted her. She turned, and found the boy himself stepping through the open shutters.

"Nix?" he asked, disbelief written in his eyes. Eyes clamped wide by the same assists every Everseeing Eye acolyte wore. She'd expected as much, but seeing as he had joined the cult, she couldn't help but grit her teeth. "You were dead."

Suddenly, Dan's shocked expression morphed to anger. "You are dead," he repeated.

Nyxil stepped back, not expecting the hate in his eyes. Why was he angry?

"I'm not." Her voice was more confident than she felt. Though, that might just be the lack of echo sounding odd to her ears. "Been a while, Dan."