In the Dark Forests of a Darker Mind, a Place Where Time has no Meaning
Across an empty abyss, Dionysus, back in his bespoke suit, his horns and hooves nowhere to be seen, trudged along an empty plane, his black loafers echoing as if against a tile floor. He was fiddling with his cufflinks.
"Drat. Drat. Damn it all!"
All pretenses disposed of, he met the shadows of his mind with an undisguised growl.
"Damn them all! They think they can kill me!? They think I'll go down that easily!? I'll show them! I'll show them all! That damned brat!"
He cast out his hands, and the darkness parted in front of him as if drawn curtains on a stage, revealing beyond them a forest of eternal dusk, bathed in indigo light: a scenery that wrapped around him on all sides, embracing him like an old friend, this familiar manifestation of his inner mind-
He stopped.
His mind, somehow, in some way he couldn't possibly fathom, had been deforested. So far as the eye could see, there was no shade, no vegetation, only an endless meadow of cold grass littered by stumps that disappeared into the low fog.
"What-" His initial shock fell, consumed by a blaze of hot anger, "What is the meaning of this!?"
He searched the dead forest for answers, for hope, and there, in the distance, was a single remaining tree. Beside it, sat upon a stump, was a woman with a slender build and a cunning face, her coffee-like skin contrasted by bone-white hair that fell like dry straw from her head. Her skin, once smooth like porcelain, was now shattered like the same material: rough cracks divided her body, giving her the appearance of a doll. She was wearing a dress made of brown and green cloth which exposed her shattered midriff. In the dim and foggy light, her eyes seemed to glow: one green, and one violet.
She smiled.
He glowered at the familiar face.
"You."
"Me."
He marched towards her, the mud squelching and grass crunching under his feet.
"What have you done!?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Her smile grew ever-wider, "I've outplayed you."
...
In the streets of Athens, as Saber and Caster battled in the skies overhead, the thralls scattered among the buildings like ants.
One car sped down the streets, careening into every thrall that crossed its path, its driver watching the carnage with empty, violet eyes. It swerved from street to sidewalk and back again, being sure to hit every zombie it could, before finally smashing into a store window and catching fire- the man inside flying through the windshield and finding his bed among the shattered glass and blazing inferno. On the rooftop overhead, another thrall walked up and stepped confidently over the edge, falling to the pavement below, and lying motionless from then-on. One thrall walked into a crowd of his kin, pulled a pistol from his hip, and moved the barrel mechanically from one body to the next, shooting each through the skull without err, creating a rhythm from the -CRACK- of the pistol and the -THUD- of the bodies against the ground. When one bullet remained in the chamber, he placed it up to his own forehead...
In this way, each of Caster's thralls, living and dead, one-by-one, were eliminated. The trees were cut down one-at-a-time, chipping away at Caster's forces while he was none-the-wiser...
...
The shadow of Aisha Alghul looked up from her seat, "I'll admit. You planted your seeds well. A bunch of little phylacteries running around... each of them carrying a piece of your soul; a seed ready to blossom into a perfect continuation of yourself."
She picked up some of the wet soil and let it drain through her fingers.
"You're a gardener, aren't you? You should know there's no point to sowing seeds if you're just going to leave them unattended. Otherwise you're only feeding the crows."
She gripped the soil in her hand, letting the last of it squeeze out onto the ground, her smile fading into a flat focus.
"There's only one left now..."
Dionysus now saw, through the fog, a heavy axe at her feet. He wondered whether it had been there the whole time, or if it had appeared at that very moment. He couldn't be sure, and that frightened him; it was a plain injustice for a man to feel out of place in his own mind.
He turned his attention to the tree: slender, naked, and turning in on itself, as if a body with broken limbs.
"Yes, I recognize that one. A poor and pathetic excuse for a woman; for a human... it would have to be Miss Alghul."
'Aisha' rose from her stump and took up her axe. She raised it impressively with one hand, as if it had no weight at all, and placed its blade against the trunk of the tree.
Dionysus held his tongue and watched the shadow with total focus, like a predator in sight of its prey.
"Aren't you afraid I'll cut it down?"
"Of course not. I know you, Aisha. I MADE you... there is nothing in this world you fear more than your own death." He sneered, "You don't have the guts, girl."
The shadow of a smile creeped onto her lips, "Are you sure? Have you ever considered that I might hate you more than I fear death?"
He matched her confidence, "I'd bet otherwise."
"Well," The corners of her lips rose slightly, "Your loss."
She seized her axe with both hands and swung towards the middle of the trunk with all her might-
"STOP!"
-Her swing ended a millimeter from the tree. She held her stance firm, keeping the blade planted there, only moving her eyes to meet the interruption.
He hurried to resume a nonchalant stance, attempting to mask his desperate lunge by straightening out his jacket.
"You've made your point. I see my position. I'm a big enough man to admit you've rather put me in a corner here. Come on, then," He smiled half-heartedly, "Let's talk."
She pulled her axe from the tree, laying the head on the ground and leaning against it. Her face remained flat, betraying no emotion.
"What's there to say?"
"Well," He paused, considering his words carefully, "You want your body back, right? You want to live. I know you do... I hope you know this is a totally negotiable point... I'd be happy to offer you a second chance- why, I daresay you've given me every reason to wish us to be separate again, no? ... It seems we would both benefit..."
He had paused at several points in his speech, at each point anticipating a response. Some reaction to his vague threats, his sweet promises, his attempts at sardonic levity... but none found purchase.
He continued, "Yes, well, you want your body back; I can do that."
He stated it as if it were a sure fact; he may as well have said that the sky was blue, though that would've been a lie in the dark forest they were in.
"You DO, however, understand that I must go before you, no?" He waited for a reaction, then went on, "The issue is this: you are only a piece, a fragment of a mind, while I am a whole mind and then some. You and I can exist in that body at once, but you alone cannot. Moreover, that body of yours is terribly broken- almost a corpse. My magecraft, my nature, can restore her to life, full life, even an immortal life if you let me, but if you were to attempt to go into her as you are, you would exist only as a listless vegetable, one-half mad and one-half asleep.... That's no way for a woman to live, no? Especially a mage of your caliber...?"
Once again, his bait went untouched.
"Here is my humble suggestion, my lady. I will go before you. I will restore your body and, after obtaining the Ichor Chalice, transform you into a goddess. You will be immortal. Once I extend my reach once more, and restore the woodlands of my mind, I will cut your branch with you on it. You will be left to yourself, and you and I will have nothing to do with each other from then on. Doesn't that sound delightful? You will be alive, immortal, and, more than anything, we will be rid of each other. Truthfully, dear, is there any better deal than this? Is there anything else you could possibly want? I make dreams come true, my lady, and yours are no exception. Only say the word and all this and more will be yours."
She smiled.
He grimaced, the bags under his eyes seeming darker and deeper at every moment.
"Tch- What more could you want, woman!? You've won. You want me to admit it? I -fucking- admit it: you have bested me. Congratulations!"
He became increasingly animated as he spoke, flailing his arms thereabout.
"Here is your prize: everything you've ever wanted and more! You've put me in my place! You are my Master! I am Caster, your Servant! Your wish is my command- only let me through, DAMN YOU! Before we both DIE here! Before our enemies claim the Chalice for themselves!"
"Fufufufu-"
A low chuckle cracked her emotionless mask.
"What-?" He stopped, taken aback, then returned with a blazing fury, "WHAT'S SO FUNNY!? WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING!?"
-But his complaints only further excited her, her chuckle rising into a laugh, and then a full, witch-like cackle; her teeth gleaming white in darkness. Dionysus bit his tongue, and impatiently waited for her to finish her mocking. It took every ounce of him not to wrap his hands around her neck- he was considering it.
Her laughter, after reaching its crescendo, returned to her chest with a deep sigh, and she greeted her Servant with a smile.
"Promise me wealth beyond my wildest imagination."
"It's yours."
"Promise me a castle of pure gold, where I'll be attended by countless nymphs as my maidservants."
"Of course."
"Promise me an empire, where I will rule from one horizon to the next."
"Whatever you desire."
"Promise me a religion, where all my people will gather and worship myself as their one and only divinity."
"It's only natural."
"Promise me that all these things will stand forever; that I may never fear bereavement."
"To the fullest extent of my powers, YES!"
Her smile remained, and yet it seemed that she had nothing else to say.
"I..." He forced a smile, failing to hide his fatigue, "-I trust we have a deal, then?"
"Fufufufu."
The staple which held his false positivity snapped into an unstoppable snarl.
"You're laughing again."
"Perhaps-" She stifled her laughter, "We're more alike than I would like to admit. Lying is just so much fun. Especially when they're at their lowest, pathetic and desperate, ready to cling to any hope. You dangle it in front of them and watch them salivate like dogs. The sweetness of their tears when they realize it was all an illusion..."
Her smile curled upwards like a viper poised to strike, "-it's irresistible."
"You-" He stomped his foot into the wet soil, "You're crazy! You'll kill us both!"
"Me? No..." She hoisted the axe onto her shoulder, "Everything you did led you to this moment. Face it, Caster. You killed yourself."
"NO-!"
She swung the axe and the tree, flimsy and crooked as it was, fell to a single strike, toppling over with a rasping final breath. As it hit the ground, the whole landscape seemed to shake, hills and valleys forming in the flat horizon.
All pretense of sociability was done away with: in Caster's expression there was only the appearance of a beast.
"I'LL KILL YOU!"
He rushed towards her, but as he did his foot seemed to crumple as if finding a pitfall and, around him, the soil fell away in a landslide, collapsing into a great and imposing nothing. Among the falling dirt and trees, he grabbed hold of a root still attached to solid ground, his feet dangling above an endless abyss, his once-pristine clothes muddied with the dirt of his own mind.
"I SWEAR TO YOU, AISHA ALGHUL: I'LL HAVE MY REVENGE! MARK MY WORDS! I'LL MAKE YOUR LIFE A LIVING HELL!"
She scoffed, though her smile had left her face.
"A living Hell? I'm already dead. The only life you'll ruin is your own."
He opened his mouth gaping wide, ready to unleash a bellow of insults her way, but, before he could, she took her axe and brought the handle down on a piece of loose dirt, breaking off his lifeline. Whatever words he had planned to speak were swallowed into a scream that fell with him into the great nothing, fading away, becoming first a shadow of itself, and then ceasing to be altogether.
She felt a familiar presence behind her.
YOUR VENGEANCE IS ACHIEVED. THE GREAT DECEIVER IS SLAIN. TELL ME, CHILD: ARE YOU SATISFIED?
She looked out into the nothingness. A great expanse without any horizon. It was both an infinite well of darkness, but equally was it a solid, immovable wall. It was as shallow as it was deep, as solid as it was ephemeral, as existent as it was nonexistent. The moment one touched it, he was stolen away for eternity, and yet, at the same time, he ceased to exist altogether.
It was oblivion. It was death. It was the thing she had feared most for all her life. It was THE END. The end of her story. The end of her self. The end of all she had known, and all she could ever know.
She had always feared it. She had always run from it, but it occurred to her, now facing it for a final time, that as desperately as she had clung to life, she had never had a reason to. She had so desperately feared death, but at the same time, she never had any reason to live. She had no purpose. Her reason for being was her fear of ceasing to be. Was it strange for her to fear death, then? Was it hypocritical? Was it wrong? Did it matter? Or maybe that was the point. Having no reason to live, no purpose to fulfill, how could she ever face death with confidence? What would she tell the Reaper when he came? She knew the final judgment would be an indictment for her. In any faith, what awaited her was punishment. Of course she feared it. Why wouldn't she do everything in her power to put off that final sentencing? Her soul had lived on death row. There was no changing her fate; there was only delaying the inevitable.
She recalled her scoffing at religion. 'How could a good God allow evil in the world,' she had said to herself and anyone who asked. It was a preposterous idea, of course, but what right did she have to ridicule it? Had she been a saint, had she lived her life for the poor and the needy, then perhaps she could dream of raising her fist to God. She would march to Saint Peter with her arguments in hand, and prove to Him that she had done more good in her short life than He had in all eternity. She could accuse Him in front of all His saints and hosts, and none could stand to accuse her in return.
-But that's not how it went. How could a good God allow evil? She may as well ask Him the reason for her own birth. She had done nothing but bring harm to others. Even in her final moments, she had slain the villain, been instrumental in his defeat; she had saved countless people from his manipulation. How many millions owed her their salvation? But she didn't care. To the very end, she had made it all about herself and her pride. She had not killed him out of a love for justice, or for the innocents he had and would continue to harm; it was petty vengeance. She wanted to see him suffer, and nothing else. To the very end, even when doing good, she had been a villain.
And yet... she had no regrets. It was strange. She faced death. She had wasted her life, she knew she had. And yet, if she had been offered a second chance, she would waste it again. She was unrepentant. Even now, looking the Reaper and His judgements in the eye, she couldn't be bothered to care. Whatever came next, it was precisely what she deserved, and she was content with that much at least.
Why would a good God allow evil? As the ground crumbled around her feet, threatening to drop her into oblivion, it occurred to her: at the end of the day, there were only two kinds of people in this world. There were those who overcame obstacles to achieve greatness, and there were those who presented the obstacles. Those who learned from the example of others, and those who set the examples of what not to do. Those who sought eternal reward, and those who fled in vain from their inevitable punishment.
She knew which one she was. What was the purpose of her life? The meaning of her story? There was none. Not for her. She could not grow. She could not change; she refused to. If there were any meaning for her life, it would not be found within herself, but in the people that she harmed.
For those of a certain mold, this thought may have inspired a certain solace; the thought that they had, even in an indirect way, been instrumental to the salvation of another. But not so with her. Perhaps she did some good for somebody through her negative example, but she couldn't be bothered to care. If anything, she was a little sad...
If she were going to die as a villain anyway, she'd have preferred to go out as such, in some great and flamboyant act of evil, and not in this quiet, milquetoast anti-heroism.
No, she wasn't satisfied. Not at all.
But the Reaper took her regardless.
....