Zenith [Closed] [Chapter XX]

[Tajna Rasha]

…and was greeted by yet another of the accursed apparitions. It bore none of its spectral weapons, instead merely looking at the statuesque form of the Arashi. There were no grand signs of exertion from the display, nor any scars from their battle. It mattered not if she could muster the sum totally of her power a thousand time over – it would only adhere to the same result. And now she could see why: Veran halted. Any desire to fight against Tajna had evaporated; they were a meaningless exercise of patience – a contest it was sure to win in spite of her wishes.

It was a strange thing to look upon the First Aspect in this manner; to remove the horror of the figure and see nothing but a shadow among the wreckage of a temple erected in its name. To Tajna Rasha even the Arashi were nothing but simple pawns in an arabesque with death. They exchanged a cold glance before the ghost finally broke the silence with a shocking proposition.

‘‘Have you ever wondered what was beneath his mask?’’

[Silver Eyes]

Always.

‘‘No.’’

She had always wondered, yet she was so sure nothing rested underneath that visage but shadows and nightmares. She had nearly seen it moments before Tajna pulled her away from her own death. Her senses assured her she would meet a similar fate if she were foolish enough to satisfy her curiosity.


But if that were the case why would the phantom intrigue her?

[Tajna Rasha]

The lie was obvious.

‘‘Do not insult us.’’ It said immediately as though the response had been tirelessly rehearsed. Still the words were etched with such cold pragmatism that they very well mirrored Tajna’s cruel figure. The ghost began to pace around the Arashi, never leaving its eyes from her. ‘‘The image of that skull has haunted you all your life and it burns you to realize – that with one simple gesture – you could finally cast aside your fear forever.’’ The Council Member halted beside its former brother; both standing among the ruins of the macabre temple of their namesake. Looking beyond the wreckage, Amoura was brought back to the vision she had that very first night. The flames; they burned in the sky like infernal auroras, distinctively scarring the heavens with deep shades of crimson tongues. The blood; it flooded every ocean and every pond, by now even the remaining vegetation had taken on its colour. The death, all of it suspended in a single instant just so that she could admire the end of all things as she knew it from every conceivable angle – take in every terrible little detail – Utopia was ravaged.

‘‘It was in fear that we forged you, that we made you into our weapon, and through this you would finally be free.’’

It was then she looked up to the sky in an effort to centre herself and she saw them… flocks of birds who had tried to escape with their lives, nothing more than bones floating silently above her. The very same she had seen that first night where she had encountered Veran for the first time. The vision he had given her was not of the nightmare.

All along, it was here.

‘‘You would be unmade.’’

[Silver Eyes]

At this, Amoura couldn’t contain herself.

She had come so far, gone through things that would have killed most, only now to be lectured by a sexless banshee. She laughed. Not mockingly nor out of anguish but a true laugh; one she had not felt in well over twenty years. She laughed – an angel stuck in hell – and she didn’t care. She laughed because part of her knew it was the last time she ever could. Because part of her knew this had to end one way or the other. She wasn’t going to spend an eternity with a jawless smurf-phantom. So she laughed.

Tajna Rasha remained silent throughout her outburst, patiently waiting for her response so it could counter her reasoning once again. She took her time regaining her composure, before finally giving her answer.

‘‘You’re so wrong...’’ She began, jokingly using its own monotone voice. ‘‘It was never a matter of fear: You’ve shown me that all of it was a lie.’’ For the first time, she felt strong against the Ghost of Legion. ‘‘It’s a matter of truth.’’ She didn’t feel strong because she could harm it, she couldn’t. ‘‘The Arashi were the only real thing about my life – trying to stop you, trying to stop me.’’ But for the first time in any of their conversations, she had a point. ‘‘I know that whatever is underneath that mask it’s going to be real, and that’s more than anything you’ll ever be able to give me.’’And it was that simple. A grin etched itself across her lips, and it only grew wider when she heard the most beautiful thing in the world…

Not a damn thing. For the first time, Tajna didn’t grace her with an answer. Enlighten her with some kind of infuriating revelation or secret. It just stood there beside Veran as though it had trapped itself in its own time-lock, and she loved it.

‘‘There’s nothing more for you to say, is there?’’ She asked sardonically, as though she wanted to make sure her imagination wasn’t playing tricks on her. She folded her arms against her chest, awaiting some kind of rebuttal. None came.

‘‘You lost, Ghost.’’ And she was done with him.

She took a step forward towards Veran defiantly, and then another. She walked with her head high, staring directly into the eyes of the Arashi until she stood not but an inch from him. She was so close and yet felt nothing. It was strange; surreal even. She never thought she’d be looking at Veran like a thing, rather than a horror. It was almost as though she was living some sort of twisted fantasy. Was this how Veran felt when he looked at her perhaps? She cautiously stretched a hand out to feather the fabric of the dark cloak. It flowed beneath her fingers like mist. Cold and wisp-like. It was so fine it felt more like water than silk. She tried to grasp at it, finding no hold. It was like trying to touch a mirage, bringing her to question whether or not the Arashi was even real. She traced the cloak higher, until she finally encountered something solid. His mask. Her hand laid there for a moment, taking in what she was about to do. There was the slightest instant of hesitation. She could feel that knot tighten in her gut at what she was about to do. She mustered her courage, and pulled it off.

She expected to be obliterated, though nothing came. Her eyes were fixed to the ground and slowly – very slowly – she rose her gaze to meet the eyes of Veran. She didn’t quite understand who she was looking at for a moment... but then her eyes widened. Her mouth opened. She took a step back at what she saw.

‘‘No!’’ She yelped.

She dropped the mask to the ground and it shattered like glass. The thundering sound was the only thing that could be heard while Amoura recoiled from the vision. Her mind went numb. She gasped for air; chocking on her own breath. She quickly wiped the tears that filled her eyes, unable to look away from the sight. She mumbled something, but her words were lost to the paralysing pain in her lungs. She couldn’t breath. She fell to her knees. She couldn’t scream. There was only that one thing throbbing in her thoughts.

‘‘No…’’ She croaked desperately trying to find the means find oxygen. Tajna had all but disappeared from her sight; there was only the terrible forsaken truth of what she had just unveiled. She never felt so defeated. Never felt such sheer hopelessness. She couldn’t take it.

It had been an eternity, but even if she were to lose herself and forget everyone she had ever cared for she would never forget that face. She would always recognize it even though the skin had peeled and cracked. She recognized it even though the stark black hair had paled and lost their vitality. She recognized it even though the eyes had hollowed out leaving nothing but a black abyss where she had lost herself a million times over to the darkest nightmares known to man. She remembered how their once deep scarlet colour had similarly filled her with dreams. The tears flowed on her cheeks freely now. She shook uncontrollably. It was like the pressure in her chest threatened to burst and kill her… And that would be a gentler fate than what she saw now. In the deep silent well of timeless space of Utopia, a single cry swallowed the world whole.

‘‘NO!’’

[Veran]

It was Ranka.

[Silver Eyes]

There is nothing more sacred than the bond between a vampire and their sire. They would kill and watch the world burn for one-another. It is at best an unreasonable and cruel love, but it is visceral and undeniable. Beyond flesh and blood – it is a melding of the soul – Amoura would have rather died than ever knowing this final defilement to her life. She looked at the burning sky, her face contorted by an agony she would have never allowed herself to show prior to this day. She screamed until nothing remained within her.

[Tajna Rasha]

The Ghost of Legion looked at Amoura in silence. After all that she had become, she had clung to that fraction of humanity, that solitary hope that somehow her master was well and alive. It was fascinating to see the dissolution of her spirit in one small instant after the simple revelation that had taken a lifetime of planning. The last piece of the puzzle fell into place – the Council Member had both brought her to the apex of her being and broken her in one flawless stroke.

Tajna Rasha had won.

[Silver Eyes]

Nothing was impossible for the Ghost. She doubted his abilities, she mocked him, she defied him--it was the worst mistake she had ever made. Now, instead of her paying the price, the only man she ever loved was suffering instead.

Amoura's true weakness had been found-- Tajna Rasha had won.

"No..." she could barely whisper it, but she knew he was listening. He was always there. Always. From the darkest corners of her mind to the many apparitions that appeared in this room, he was there. "Forgive me, Ranka. Oh, god, forgive me. I didn't think this would happen to you. Please, forgive me!" She screamed once more, fell back, and backed away in a panic.

Tears streaming from her eyes, she looked everywhere trying to find some sort of anchor, but there was nothing but that terrible thing in front of her. There was that – and there was Tajna. Looking upon the dreaded ghost, she shook from the uncontrollable emotions that assaulted every inch of her soul. Her body was weak from the experience. ‘‘I hope you feel yourself dying a million times over.’’ Her voice quivered. Her throat was tight and dry but she wanted to say the words. ‘‘I hope that every death is full of horror and pain that you can’t begin to imagine, and that you relive it every single time. I hope you relive it until a point where you crack – and when you do – it keeps on going, because it still wouldn’t ever compare to what you did to me.’’ She looked dead into the eyes of the ghost, sobbing almost to the point of convulsion. ‘‘It still would never compare to what you did to him!’’ She screamed. ‘‘Free him!’’

[Tajna Rasha]

Tajna offered neither sympathy nor kindness at Amoura ’s plea, and why would it? It had single handedly orchestrated the events of her life to lead up to this point. Tajna had nurtured both the strength and weaknesses of the Night Angel and brought her to the zenith of her existence; now finally they understood each other. The phantom had created a black amaranth – a masterpiece – and the ghost would counsel her this one final time.

‘‘There can only be one.’’

[Silver Eyes]

The words pierced her like a thousand needles in her heart. Amoura sunk, lost. She gazed emptily across space, her sight obscured. She was dead to the world. There were no more ghost, no more Utopia. There was only the Shroud. Flat against the earth, she turned over and crawled towards the object of her curse. It was an act of sheer desperation. Amoura forgot everything: the fate of the universe, her family, her friends, and even herself. All she could think about was her love. What did he have to go through to become that? Oh, god, what had she done? What was she about to do?

Every movement was laborious, demanding inhuman efforts, but she finally made it to her destination. She raised her red puffy eyes towards the Shroud levitating just within arm's reach. She looked at it again, its terrible visage staring back at her. The Night Angel was no longer thinking – she reached up and grabbed it. She got on her feet and turned it around and looked inside it. It looked as though the sharp stone would lacerate her upon wearing it. Her tears dribbled on the cold surface and fell through the cracks. She closed her eyes. "Ranka..." The Shroud drew close to her face. She could almost feel the worn, dead texture against her skin before she uttered: "I love you."

And she pressed it against her face.

Black tendrils erupted from the mask and it immediately latched to her skin.

Amoura gasped, trying to grab at the still existing corners of the Shroud and fell to her knees. The living mass engulfed her face and soon there was nothing she could grasp to even give her a grain of hope of turning back on her choice – it was the point of no return. Blinded, confused, and distraught she desperately clawed at her new extremity. Nothing could pry it off. It was too late. Her mind raced; she had just begun a series of events that would destroy the universe.

Then, the pain started. All thoughts of morality were ripped out to be replaced with a desire to stop what was racking her body. A desire to survive. She couldn't see it but the tendrils began to draw black veins over her body. They burned her, branding her flesh. The substance crawled from her face and hands to her core. As they drew closer to her heart, the pain increased. Cut through her. She wanted to scream. No, she wouldn't scream again! She couldn't! Closer. It was unbearable. Still, she wouldn't scream. Closer. She prayed to any and all merciful gods to end this. To end it! Closer. Now the reason for its movements were revealed – like the ghost’s calculative hands, the Shroud was not going directly for her heart, but for something far more sacred: her soul. The energy emanating from her was such as her own armour began to radiate a bright red before it began to melt into her flesh. The veins finally met at the centre of her chest, and a blinding light bathed the room the moment contact was made.

Amoura screamed.

Little by little, The Shroud was destroying her soul to make way for The End. Of all the tortures she could think of, this one made her wish she could relive all of them hundreds of times over to spare her from this. Her skin fused with metal and stone. Her organs melted. She was being hollowed out. She could feel it. She could feel her. Already she could feel herself fighting for dominion over her body, but she was being crushed by the power of the Arashi. She felt herself dying.

Then, they rushed in. Memories. Her entire life was flashing before her eyes. The day she was recruited to Devil May Cry, her bickering with Dante, Sparda's comforting words, her brother's laugh, Sazan's embarrassment over her Playboy mishap, Shiro and Sasha following her outside the city on a mission, Daikus' misbehavior – god, he was such a punk – and...Ranka's smile. Now she was seeing everyone's smiles. Their hurt. Their joy. She was seeing her true family. The family she would never see again. The family that loved her, protected her, and made her feel that she belonged. Why had she done the things she did? Why didn't she stay with them?

Silver tears streamed from her eyes and slipped through the Shroud's cloth. The light began to dim now. No, it can’t end like this. Fate be damned – wasn’t there one more thing she could do? One last ditch effort? She tried to think of something. Anything. The memories were fading. Amoura screamed again. There wasn't much of her left. The power of the End was taking over, and its presence was unlike anything she could ever conceive. Everything was drawn by it – swallowed. Her existence was shifting in and out as she desperately tried to remain in this world. But, it was to no avail. There was no one who could save her this time.

A final cry ripped from her throat. But this was not unheard. The barrier that held her and Tajna frozen in time was ripped asunder, allowing her anguish to be heard throughout the universe. All would stop and hear. Some would recognize it, most wouldn't. Regardless, it would leave a chill in their bones, and a sense of dread for what was about to come... that was her final gift to the world; her own prophecy, forged from her pain. From her sacrifice.

A sigh left Amoura's lungs, the light was extinguished, and she fell to the ground.

The Night Angel, The Daughter of Mundus, the woman that fought all her life to do the right thing… was gone.

[Eos]

A cold breeze washed through Utopia; it swirled around the form of the woman who laid still on the earth like a monument of the being that she once was. Her skin shared the intricate markings of the divine much like her corpse-like face. The ground around her began to warp – gravitate towards her – as though drawn by an unseen force. It rose from its hinges, stone by stone, bone by bone: They floated around her before being broken down into wisps of light. She rose from her grave and into the sky as though carried by heaven itself. It washed and clothed her. Higher and higher, the light poured onto her like liquid, surrounding her, drowning her in its essence. She was being anointed.

The gust became stronger now, with streams of silver emanating from everywhere in Utopia. They rose from the burning and desecrated pits of the world, casting their holy radiance on every crack and every shadow left in the wake of the First Aspect. It was as though a great sword had pierced the world and instead of blood there was light. It came to her, embraced her, and joined her. She stood in the heavens, an angel of light made of stone, with her face in a ceremonious and blissful expression. Veran’s darkness still held the world by the throat, and she stood a beacon of splendour and despair.

‘‘Let there be light.’’

And she opened her eyes.

The woman’s wings stretched over in the sky covering it like a veil of diamonds and Utopia was set ablaze. Burning with white-hot fire, the Arashi consumed everything, cleansing the bastard realm from the face of existence as it was meant to be on that fateful day where her brother Aper had set foot upon the soil of Aircano. Plants, trees and rivers; the conflagration was immediate; soon even the flames of the First Aspect were caught by the aurora cast by her.

Everything burned, and it was just. The fire died as quickly as it had manifested, and nothing was left in its wake but glass. Utopia stood beneath the woman a realm of crystal and purity, unmarred by anything but its own dwelling. She glided down towards it, her naked feet floating a moment above the surface before finally touching it. Thunderous distant sounds echoed across the kingdom as cracks erupted over its surface. Slowly, even the glass began to thread itself down to turn into the same magnificent force that encircled her. It moved and shifted, trying to fight against the irrevocable gravity of her power until it neared breaking point. A great silence moved throughout Utopia…

The world was shattered in an explosion of gems and illumination. It shined like countless stars, like a wall of galaxies upon galaxies in the grand scheme of the universe. It was beautiful, and it was terrifying. It glimmered in the darkness until nothing remained but her and her alone. This was it...

This was the End.

[Ayen]

“Tsk, tsk. Trying to destroy everything I built here, what poor manners. And after I sheltered you all this time too.”

Despite everything around her being threatened to perish Luca sat atop the throne of Utopia as calm as ever. Showing no fear or intimidation at the presence of the Third Aspect that had finally manifested in her bastard realm. But Utopia would not be so easily destroyed as the Paradox stood in defiance and contradiction to everything known in existence once more. Her hand wrapping around a rope by her side and then tugging it down as the realm descended into the deep dark ocean expanse that covered the world until it sank all the way down to the bottom.

“Going down!”