Aetheral Space

NOW JOINING: NOEL EDMUNDS

NOW JOINING: REYANSH PATEL

Noel stepped forward on feet that did not exist, upon ground that did not exist, as she breathed in air that did not exist.

The environment around her quickly changed, the empty void becoming populated by her subconscious. The grand hall of a grand castle spread out before her, architecture laid out illogically like something from a dream. Pillars that supported nothing but air, paintings with indeterminate faces, and a throne so warped it could never sit a human being.

She sat it anyway. Annoyingly enough, she still felt too small for a product of her own imagination.

The sky above turned orange as Reyansh’s mind painted it, the man himself appearing cross-legged on a floating disk-like platform, the floor of it emblazoned with the sigil of the legendary killing artist Tiamon Mars -- a fist severed from the arm. He opened his Pugnant-golden eyes as he looked out at the barren landscape beyond what their thoughts had made.

His eyes narrowed. It was obvious that he hated every second he was here, yet he still accompanied her. Why? Noel couldn't fathom it.

She didn't let it bother her, though. When she was in this landscape, she preferred to focus on the stabilizing effect it had on her psyche. The impulses and thoughts that had once been haphazard and intrusive now smoothly flowed in her desired direction. She felt… calm. She felt… human.

As if she'd been breathing poison her whole life before someone had introduced her to air.

The intention of this place hadn't been to serve as an artificial Archive, but it worked well enough for that purpose. This virtual realm -- derived from the Garden of the Paradisas -- was a secure location through which members of their organization could meet and plan at leisure. No fear of eavesdropping. When you were an enemy of the entire world, a second of secrecy became worth as much as gold.

It was called the Shadow Garden, and it was her own creation.

NOW JOINING: SMITH

Noel shuddered as the calm quiet she'd been enjoying was interrupted. An ocean of black ink began to encroach from the west, the amorphous body of Smith shifting and changing to fill every nook and cranny. His head -- the wrinkled countenance of a kindly grandfather, blown up to unreasonable proportions -- wriggled free of the black mass.

“Oh, Miss Edmunds,” Smith cooed, looking down on Noel from afar. “It's been too long since we met face-to-face. How you've grown!”

Noel rolled her eyes. “Our avatars here are an aggregate of our real selves and our self-image. Minor changes like that don't mean anything.”

But she had grown.

Smith's colossal gaze slid up to Reyansh. “And good Mister Patel, always a pleasure.”

Reyansh simply glared, nodded and grunted. Noel was fairly sure she could count the number of times he'd spoken to fellow members of Darkstar on her fingers. It didn't seem to bother Smith, though.

“As taciturn as ever,” the thing nodded sagely. “But that in itself has its charm. Every day, I grow more confident in my decision to recruit you two.”

He chuckled, and the ocean that was his body rippled in sympathy.

To be perfectly honest, Noel had little idea what Smith actually was. He wasn't a normal human, to be sure, but he didn't seem to be a Scurrant either. A Scurrant couldn't appear and disappear wherever he liked, oozing from the walls and floors. A Scurrant couldn't change his shape from moment to moment. A Scurrant couldn't take a man and…

…a skull pushed its way out of the side of Smith's head, silently screaming, until a black tendril firmly pushed it far below the surface.

“My apologies,” Smith chuckled again. “Dear Hans has been restless lately. It was not me, it was my food. It just came up to say hello, and now it's gone back down below. Ohoho!”

Noel honestly had no idea what to say to that, so she just nodded.

NOW JOINING: MCCOY

A lighter flicked on, four times.

With the first flick, McCoy herself appeared. A tall woman, wrapped from head to toe in bandages, a red trenchcoat and fedora draped over her form.

With the second flick, a city appeared around her. An endless labyrinth of streets and alleyways, indistinct neon signs burning at the eyeballs.

With the third flick, the sun was awoken. A mighty bleeding sphere, sending red rain down towards the landscape McCoy had created.

A fourth flick -- and with it, McCoy finally lit the cigarette in her other hand. She did not smoke it. This was nothing but muscle memory.

“Have we started?” McCoy asked, her cold voice curiously clear through the bandages around her mouth.

Smith shook his head. “We still await the Knight and our King. There's also our guest.”

“The UAP guy?” McCoy snorted. “I'm sure he'll make us wait for him.”

“Ah, don't say such things,” Smith replied. “Our King is quite fond of him.”

Noel cleared her throat, nodding to McCoy. It was a strange sensation -- despite the great virtual distances that separated them, she could see and hear everyone else in the Shadow Garden as if they were face-to-face. “Good evening, comrade. I trust your work goes well?”

“Hm?” McCoy grunted. “Yeah, sure.”

Noel frowned.

“Anyway,” McCoy turned back to Smith, ignoring Noel. “Are you sure Rhodes can even use this thing? He's hardly --”

NOW JOINING: THE ABYSSAL KNIGHT

“Shut up.”

Air shivered. Ground shook. Noel whipped her head around to behold the new arrival.

The environment the Abyssal Knight had created around himself was barely distinguishable from the void that had spawned it. An endless expanse of black, pressing down on everything within it, with only occasional and distant flashes of gold to entertain the notions of distance and existence.

It was tempting to see the Abyssal Knight, slumped over in the middle of that darkness, and think of him as a corpse. That was… until you saw his eyes, the only trace of his ravaged face visible behind his helmet. Those eyes blazed with purple Aether, and burned with unending hatred.

This was not a comrade Noel felt safe to greet. This was hardly one that she felt safe looking at. In the distance, Reyansh shifted uncomfortably.

“What d-d-do you w-want?” the Knight growled -- his stuttering sounding more like a glitching videograph than any expression of anxiety. “Where is t-this?”

“We have come to hear from our King, good Knight,” Smith informed him from up on high. “This is the Shadow Garden, an ingenious creation of Miss Edmunds, where we may speak freely.”

“Loud…” the Knight growled, his armour shuddering as he lay on the ground. Lounging there like that, he almost reminded Noel of a lion -- a feral, diseased lion.

NOW JOINING: ABSTRACT

Noel frowned at the unfamiliar name. This wasn't one of the comrades she'd been introduced to. Was this the person from the UAP that had been helping them, then? Someone named Abstract?

She saw the sculpted world before the sculptor.

Stark white, sterile white. A laboratory without seams or boundaries, filled with floating cubes. Atop one of those cubes, as if it were a table, were spread out countless instruments and samples that Noel could barely grasp the purpose of.

Blank white fingers took a test-tube and raised it to an eyeless face, clearly inspecting it. The white dust inside quivered in response.

“I hope you don't mind,” Abstract said, shaking the tube slightly. “But I've brought some of my work with me. If you do mind, that’s irrelevant -- I'll continue my work anyway.”

Abstract’s form was a complete blank -- no face, no body, just a vague white haze. Noel scowled. That went beyond the influence self-image could have on the Shadow Garden. Somehow, this person had meddled with her program. That was supposed to be impossible.

Smith nodded to the new arrival. “Welcome, my friend. This is our first time meeting, but --”

“Pardon, but I’m still speaking,” Abstract said, returning the test-tube to its holder. “Ordinarily, I wouldn’t lower myself to speak to peons in the first place, but -- my, oh my -- you are an eclectic bunch, aren’t you?”

He took a scalpel from the table and pointed it upwards, Smith’s face reflected in the perfect sheen of the blade.

“The familiar of the King of Darkstar…”

The scalpel turned to behold McCoy.

“...the mortal remains of the great detective October Jones…”

Finally, it reflected the distant and seething Abyssal Knight.

“...and the disgraced Samson Rhodes. Why, I feel as though I’m in a museum.”

Three sets of eyes glared daggers at Abstract, but if he did notice it -- and he definitely did -- he certainly didn’t care. Instead, he just pointed his pinkie to indicate Noel and Reyansh. Noel frowned as she felt the attention of the interloper fall upon her.

“These two, however, I must confess I do not know,” Abstract said. “Such a rarity! You were the first to connect to this channel, weren’t you, girl? I take it you’re the architect of the program? It’s passable work -- I’d give you a glowing review if you were a toddler, although you may well be, given your height.”

Noel’s frown deepened.

Still, Abstract went on. “Does the fact that the boy’s environment lingers so close to your own mean he feels more responsibility for you than loyalty towards Darkstar? Is that really alright? When it comes to such a close knit group of maniacs, one would think that fanaticism is a --”

“L-Loud.” the Abyssal Knight grunted.

Abstract turned his head to regard him. “Hm? What was that?”

“LOUD!”

The Abyssal Knight crossed the world in an instant, his rusted blade gouging a rift into the fabric of space. Abstract barely had time to raise a hand before he was suddenly -- and messily -- smashed against the wall, gore splattering across the sterile environment he’d constructed. His head, barely intact, twitched against the edge of the sword.

“Rabid beast,” he sneered. “Are you simple? Injuring me in this space is meaningless. Even if this was the real world, an injury such as this would be --”

The Knight turned his blade, crushing Abstract’s head against the wall. A moment later, the indistinct man reappeared behind the hulking warrior. He spread his arms wide in contemptible exasperation.

“Understand now?” he said. “This is not reality. Killing me here bears no --”

Another swing of the sword gored him over a kilometer. Abstract appeared again before the blood could finish flying.

“Listen to me, ignoramus --”

Another swing, another death.

Noel couldn’t allow this sort of chaos to continue in her Shadow Garden. She cleared her throat, stuffing down the instinctive fear she felt when she looked at the Abyssal Knight -- and shouted: “Knight! Down!”

The Abyssal Knight showed no sign that he had heard her. He simply continued to swing his sword, obliterating Abstract again and again like a game of whack-a-mole. Fine. Noel had taken a situation like this into account. She had countermeasures.

Raising her hand, she snapped her fingers -- and immediately, massive chains fell into existence. All it took was a jab of her finger with intent and -- like loyal serpents -- they lunged towards the form of the Knight. With these, she could at least make him stay still for the meeting. That was well within her --

I’m dead I’m dead I’m dead I’m dead I’m dead

THE KNIGHT NOTICED HER

I’m dead I’m dead I’m dead I’m dead I’m dead

He looked at her, one eye blazing lethally. He roared. It was more like the roar of a paleo-beast than a man, powerful enough to generate air pressure all on its own. Noel noticed her body's response as though she stood a distance from it. Her hands trembled. Her throat hurt. Her eyes burnt.

The chains hesitated in the air for a single moment. A fatal moment.

She knew, logically, that what Abstract said was true. Nothing the Knight did to her here meant anything. She couldn’t even feel pain in the Shadow Garden. An injury was nothing but temporary damage to an avatar she was puppeteering.

But still… in that moment, she was certain she was about to die.

The Abyssal Knight went to move, went to run, went to kill -- but a wall of black oil surged forth to block his path.

“Cease,” Smith hissed, face contorted inhumanly by anger, his blank white eyes staring up at the sky. “Our King is come.”

NOW JOINING: NIAIN

A black void devoured the sky. No, not a void -- a sphere, perfect and empty. A ceaseless shadow. A dark star.

Below it, as though the structure were a gift he was presenting them, floated Niain. His cloak billowed out in space, dwarfing him like the wings of a great bat. His pale face smiled out at them from the center of the mass like a terminal nucleus.

“In truth,” he chuckled. “I was here from the beginning. I was just curious to see how all my good friends would parlay with each other.”

His black eyes flicked over to the Abyssal Knight, far down below.

“Down,” Niain snapped coldly.

Immediately, the Knight collapsed to his hands and knees. Blood sprayed out from every gap in his armour, coating the floor around him, more and more flying free even as he was pressed down into the ground. The scream of pain and frustration he let out was deafening at first, but -- with just one further glare from Niain -- it was lowered to a hush.

“Kill you…” the Knight wheezed, trying in vain to look up at the King of Darkstar. “K-Kill you… I’ll kill you… kill you…”

Niain ignored him, instead turning his head to regard the reconstituted Abstract. “Haha, my apologies for Rhodes’ conduct, my friend. He’s the temperamental sort, as I’m sure you’ve figured out. The two you just pointed out are Noel Edmunds and Reyansh Patel, if you’re still curious. They’re our most recent recruits.”

What, he’s allowed to be anonymous, but we’re not?

“But enough pleasantries,” Niain smiled. “I’m sure you have plenty of news from the UAP, right? How’s my dear friend Pierrot doing?”

Abstract had no eyes to roll, but Noel recognised the body language. “I really have no clue why you’re so obsessed with a man you’ve never met, Niain. Jaime Pierrot is as much of a dullard as he’s ever been. The man continues to transparently pull in allies -- the Tsarita of Andrust, Nebula Two, the new Vantablack Squad… he’s on friendly terms with Shen Xiurong, now, as well. In terms of sheer dumb force, he may well hold the advantage right now.”

“I see,” Niain sighed. “Well, I’m glad to hear that is doing well, too. Don’t worry: we’ll be making our own moves soon enough. Oh, Knight?”

He crooked his finger up, and the Abyssal Knight suddenly rose to his feet, as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. The warrior glared up at Niain, his breath heaving.

“You must be patient with our new friend, Rhodes,” Niain chided like a gentle parent. “His research holds the key to our endgame, after all.”

The Abyssal Knight just hissed in response.

Beneath his armour, opened up by the ordeal he’d just endured, Noel could see countless tiny purple dots moving -- shining out from his tattered veins. One of the secrets to his strength: tiny Aether batteries, coursing through his blood, boosting his capacity… and warping his reason.

A shudder tried to go down her spine, but she prevented it. She wasn’t afraid.

“You have a practiced flattery, Niain,” Abstract chuckled, putting a finger to absent lips. “Although I can’t say I dislike it.”

“What can I say, haha?” Niain chuckled. “Flattery is my favourite skill, just below waiting -- and sadly, the time for that is almost at an end.”

He turned his head to McCoy, still strolling through the streets of her city of blood.

“We need to make sure PALATINE moves as we want,” Niain commanded. “You’ll go and make contact with it, McCoy. As fellow Awakenings, perhaps you can establish a rapport?”

McCoy snorted. “Jackass.”

“Oh dear,” Niain laughed. “It seems I’ve said something ignorant. You have a question, Noel?”

This time a shiver really did go down Noel’s spine. She hadn’t even opened her mouth yet.

“Uh, yeah,” she said, her halting voice carrying over eternity. “You say to make contact with PALATINE, but that thing’s with the Absurd Weapons Lab, right? Their security’s going to be top-notch, and we can’t get discovered, can we? Shouldn’t I help? I got us onto the Shesha, so…”

“Not to worry,” Niain replied, still smiling. “The Absurd Weapons Lab’s attention is split at the moment -- to tell the truth, they’re more focused on their upcoming collaboration with Erica del Sed. Besides, our McCoy is hardly helpless. I have faith in her.”

His eyes flicked back down to the Abyssal Knight.

“Rhodes,” he went on. “You’ll stand by on Yutra V and await my signal to light the spark. Even one such as you should be able to manage that, hm?”

Abstract spoke up. “Yutra V?” he purred. “That’s right on the border. Planning some mischief, Niain?”

“Oh, but of course.”

“Me, sire?” Smith’s voice reverberated through his mass. “What purpose would you grant me?”

Niain scratched his cheek with a finger. “Joel Jal is almost fully digested, right?”

Smith nodded somberly. “I’m afraid so, my king. It’ll be a shame to lose the power of consciousness dilation… if I could take my own life in apology, I would surely do so. What punishment do you instead wish to bestow?”

“Well,” Niain waved a vague hand. “These things happen. It opens up a slot, anyway, so go eat the Crown after Dragan Hadrien’s victory-by-default. Then you’ll stick with me for the remainder of the Dawn Contest.”

A bright pink blush spread across Smith’s cheeks, and he nodded eagerly. “Oh, yes, your grace, yes! As you say! To bask in your presence is far greater a pleasure than one such as I could ever hope for! My creator, my king, my god!”

“Okay.”

Noel crossed her legs, sitting up in her marble throne. “What about me? What do I do?”

Niain glanced over at her. “Does your infiltration of the Shesha remain complete?”

“Of course.”

His smile widened, just a tad. “Ahaha. Then you’ve already done what you need to do. Until the time comes, you may indulge in the luxury of waiting.” He didn’t even bother addressing Reyansh. To him, the warrior was nothing more than an extension of Noel’s presence.

“Sure,” she nodded.

“And with that…” Niain said, smiling benevolently down on them all, his eyes closed. “We’ve said all that we need to. The next time we meet, we’ll have many more victories to boast of…”

His eyes opened, and they were the abyss.

“...and the dark star will loom ever closer.”

CLOSING CONNECTION

As the Shadow Garden peeled itself away from his consciousness, Zephyr Pandershi opened his eyes.

How fascinating. That meeting had felt like it had lasted several minutes, but in reality had barely kept them occupied for a second. Time dilation inside the Shadow Garden itself. Niain’s familiar had mentioned possessing the ability of ‘consciousness dilation’ -- had the Cogitant girl reverse-engineered that ability when designing the Shadow Garden? Zephyr would have to investigate the possibility himself.

For now, though, ‘Abstract’ had his true work to get back to.

He rose from his seat, striding across his laboratory, white coat swishing around his feet as he went. The space was cavernous, but not a single shadow was allowed here -- stark light devoured all. Countless workstations lined the walls, each of them manned, but they were just minor distractions. The true stars of this laboratory were held in massive glass cylinders, six in all -- like the pillars of a temple.

Within them, towering growths of the White Panacea twitched and undulated, red specks of matter drifting through them.

As Zephyr passed the glass, he took a grateful glimpse of his own reflection -- at a perfect body kept in the youthful prime of its life. White hair cascaded down his shoulders, the red tips a stark contrast to his sparkling blue eyes. For a moment, he noted with distaste an imperfection in the angle of the cheekbones -- but it was a simple matter to adjust them with his index fingers and lock them into a superior position.

He smiled at the sight. What a genius he was.

Alone in his laboratory, he stood before the window -- looking out on the sunless sky of Nehr Müt, his dismal and depressing homeworld and dominion. Be that as it may, he was grateful for it -- a place distant from the noise of the galaxy to work his craft. A world and people that existed for his convenience alone. What more could one ask for?

His communicator beeped in his ear. “Yes?” he asked.

“Director,” his assistant replied, calm and placid as Zephyr enjoyed. “We’ve received word from Shen Xiurong. Your presence is requested for a meeting of the Governing Council.”

“Of course,” Zephyr chuckled. “Nothing but meetings these days.”

“Sir?”

“A joke. You may laugh. Prepare my shuttle and entourage -- tell the Lord Mayor I’ll set out for Serendipity immediately.”

He didn’t bother waiting for a response, turning off the communicator and turning back towards his primary workstation -- towards the project he’d been pursuing before being pulled into the Shadow Garden. It was a shame: he’d have liked to have been able to premier his new creation at the next meeting of the Governing Council. For the time being, it seemed he’d still be a lone attendant.

There, floating in a tank of clear liquid, was a figure. Its features made it impossible to tell whether it was male or female, young or old, but a distinct sense of power emanated from the being’s body all the same. White-and-red hair billowed around the form in flat strips like ribbons -- and, even without a consciousness piloting it, it was staring straight ahead -- a stare crystal blue.

Zephyr looked with satisfaction into his own eyes.

NEBULA FOUR

‘Titan White’

"The Fairy Prince"

Nebula of the Pandershi Foundation

Oh, he truly was a genius.