Loss Of Innocence
A single flake settled amidst a sea of snow, joining its brethren in unbridled desolation. The cold, lifeless expanse stretched as far as the eye could see. And yet, a single hand grasped the frigid ground, clawing its way through the ice. Pale flesh as white as the snow came into view. The tendons quivered in pain, pulsating with every twitch. Not even the frigid mist of winter could hide the signs of struggle and despair.
Some time passed before a frail figure took form, revealing the shape of a girl. How she existed in such a place was a mystery, as all common sense pointed to her demise. But for the girl, perhaps the laws of nature no longer applied to her.
Several limbs cracked and shifted with agony as the creature rose. A pair of glaring red eyes created the slightest glimmer, revealing all that was to be known of the pale ghost, who stared at the horizon with unyielding determination.
The length of her white hair and the structure of her face suggested she could be a princess or a beautiful goddess from a heavenly place. But she knew that was far from the truth. She was no royalty, from heaven or hell. She was nothing and belonged nowhere, her attire of black rags and tattered cloth remained a constant symbol of her impurity.
Despite her vibrant gaze, she appeared dead and soulless, lacking all the warmth and color of life. Her condition was no surprise to her - she knew whatever curse haunted her kept her from a normal demise. Thus, the pale girl crawled across the tundra seeking release. She had heard the stories of a land filled with the dead, both mortal and immortal. She could remember the dozens of warnings placed by men around the tundra, their tall signs warding off visitors in every language imaginable. But she did not care.
The world she knew as Peruvia was never a gentle one. It was an impossibly large planet that not even she could journey in its entirety. But no matter how many nations and people she met, it was all the same. The cities with knights and royal banners cold and cruel to her. The robust cities with mechanical life and wonder took no pity on her. The only destination that mattered now was the chasm of death.
If there was even a chance the fabled graveyard could bring her a release, then it was a journey worth enduring. The girl had already traveled miles before collapsing from exhaustion, the chilling wind having already chipped away at her flesh. But she did not complain. The girl carried on, her ascent nearly complete as she placed a hand at the top of the snowy hill.
The pale girl nearly smiled as a frozen graveyard then came into view. Her excitement rose as the grueling blizzard suddenly came to a sudden halt, her conquest of the hill seemingly changing the weather. She lay there for some time, taking in the view of the clear valley. Before her lay a sheet of ice that spanned for miles, its surface cut apart by dozens of pits. If she still cared to speak, she would have cheered at that moment. Success was finally at hand. All she needed to do was do the opposite of every sane person, and enter one of the pits to find an eternal slumber.
Finding her strength from excitement, the pale girl slid down the hill and hobbled toward the perforated ice. But upon reaching the pits, she frowned in disappointment. The legend still seemed true, as a mound of frozen corpses had been piled inside each and every hole she could see. But these deaths were too many, their numbers overflowing and polluting their surroundings. And worst of all, the corpses appeared human.
The girl shook her head and stepped away. She would not be content with a disgusting trash bin of worthless souls. She wanted to die alone and in peace. A nice little hole would do for her. The girl then began to wander the landscape in search of a proper resting place only for her plans to be abruptly foiled when she stumbled across a dreadful sight.
"Humans." The girl sighed in a deep and beautiful voice that, surprisingly, still seemed to work. "It's always the humans."
Beyond the sheet of ice, there was small a village of humans. She could see their ugly wooden cabins and their irritating yellow lights. She could hear their meaningless voices in the air and could smell their stench as well. Only a handful of humans on Peruvia were ever worth anything to her. A foul sensation of anger swept through the girl's heart. She stood still for quite some time, reflecting on her history with the wretched creatures who populated the lands.
"They named me Salem," she whispered, recounting the only good memory she had. "Perhaps they should see me one last time before I go. Take in the result of their sins. I think they'd like that."
Salem then formed a mischievous grin across her face. She knew full well the human strangers would be terrified to see her. In fact, she was confident in her ghoulish appearance. The days of self-esteem and vanity were long gone. The least she could do now was enjoy their terror one last time. Perhaps, she thought, the humans would even throw her into an open pit. She liked to imagine a curious deed from humans, even if it would be done by accident.
"It's not like they can kill me." Salem frowned as she stepped towards the village.
Salem never considered herself a vengeful spirit. Everything she had done in her life was justified in her eyes. All the men she had killed deserved it. All the women and children she had spared most were going to die later anyway. She liked to remember these things, and admit what she did was fair.
But Salem could never deny her spitefulness. The idea of fading away without first stirring trouble was most unpleasing. All her life she was of no consequence to the humans, even after she killed them. Never did they care for her motives. Self-defense or justice was irrelevant to them. She would kill humans, and they would try in vain to return the favor. None of it mattered in the end, no how much it infuriated her. Just this once she would enjoy being the center of attention.
The pale girl then crept towards the village at a greater pace. She was eager to see their shocked faces, and possibly silence some of them forever. Salem made sure to enter the village from the back, avoiding the human's slippery roads and revealing lights. They appeared well adapted to the cold, with warm furs and dark wooden planks lining their structures. The quality of their architecture was nothing to praise, but was most certainly better than some places Salem had visited. She would have loved to stay in one of their log cabins and rest by the fire - though of course the girl knew better and stayed far from those who had harmed her in the past.
After squeezing through a rather pathetic wooden fence, Salem drew closer to one of the cabins. But as she slowly opened the back door, she was met with disappointment. There was only a single woman sitting by the fire, with blonde hair and brown eyes. She might have been pretty if not for her mortified face. Watching Salem creep inside silenced the woman's mouth and mind, as she sat there frozen in fear.
It was there in the light of the fire, that Salem's true form could be seen. She was like the dead come alive, with blood and wounds all over her body. Her left arm was almost skeletal in nature, and her right leg appeared bent and broken. Even her pure white hair was stained with a history of violence. But worst of all were her eyes with their bloodthirsty gaze.
"Run." Salem smiled in an attempt to scare off the woman.
Not questioning anything, the human scampered off to find help. But before she left, she looked back in fear towards something precious in the opposite corner of the room. Salem stood in the way of that prize, keeping the woman away.
Salem took notice and turned to her left. She was surprised to see a child no older than two seasons, laying peacefully in a crib. Salem may have been described by many as a monster, but even she was incapable of harming a child. That being said, she appeared disgusted by the overgrown fetus.
But no matter how much Salem wanted to ignore the child and leave, she felt drawn to it. Soon she found herself closer to the crib, before taking the child into her arms. The little thing had no idea a monster carried it, and continued to rest peacefully as if in its mother's arms.
Salem remained in her trance for some time. Somehow the thought of being a mother pleased her. Even if she didn't particularly like any human, she felt protective of it. Many times in her life she had experienced the role of a girl. But never before had she felt like a mother. The feeling was unfamiliar, yet extremely satisfying.
By the time the woman returned with the entire village at her back, Salem could be seen sitting in the mother's chair smiling at the baby. Perhaps the mother pleaded for Salem to release the child. Perhaps the other villagers cursed her for invading their home. But in reality, Salem had stopped hearing them long ago. Her mind was completely absorbed by the child. She was so intoxicated in fact, that she hardly noticed the villagers removing the child from her arms and carrying her away.
"How did she get out?" One villager asked, "Never have they come here."
"We must return the fallen to the pit, lest the gods punish us all," another villager spoke.
"She didn't hurt him. Please just put her back and pray they don't notice," the woman pleaded as she carried her child.
Eventually, the fur-coated villagers banded together and carried Salem outside as gently as they could. They could only hope that if Salem was thrown into the pit, the disaster they spoke of could be avoided. Luckily for them, Salem did not seem to resist.
________________________________
The pale girl felt almost content as she was carried deeper into the valley. The villagers appeared to agree with her tastes, as they refused to dump Salem in with the overflowing pits. In their eyes, she was something more special than a simple traveler. It was their belief that Salem belonged to a strange group of entities seen long ago. And it was their fear that drove them across the tundra, praying that they would not be struck down by those who guarded the land.
In truth, the legends Salem had heard of the frozen pits were not at all embellished. For those who lived in the valley, there was a long understanding of the supernatural. They had learned to respect and fear the wonders of the land they called Glacia.
Within Glacia, it was known that the frozen grounds led to a deeper chasm, filled with beings of greater importance. Those more educated would come and go, insisting they could spot something above the clouds. And those more reckless would attempt to reach the center of the valley. They, of course, would return as charred remains. But the few lucky enough to touch the outskirts of the chasm and avoid the act of trespassing would speak of pale bodies that would never rot. These descriptions of silver entities would be passed down for generations as both legend and warning. As it were, Salem matched nearly every description from the tales. The humans would never guess the pale girl was from anywhere but the chasm.
Unfortunately, they were wrong. Salem hadn't simply forgotten her long life and was rather certain she had never seen the valley. But the details of her own origin no longer interested the girl, who desired only death.
Eventually, the villagers carefully snuck their way to the furthest corner of the great chasm. Most of them stared in bewilderment at the massive crack in the earth, filled to the brim with beautiful pale bodies. As they looked up to the sky, the peaceful clearing became obscured by a stationary grey cloud. Not a single ray of the sun could be seen at any time.
The villagers were not stupid enough to assume this was an accident - someone or something was hiding their existence. But they had no intention of angering these entities. One of the villagers, a tall man with a black beard, prayed in a strange tongue, the rhythm of his voice sounding almost apologetic. He was asking for whatever existed beyond the cloud to simply ignore the presence of humans and take back what had crawled out of the chasm. The man seemed pleased to find no response at all after finishing his prayer. Usually, any life would have been annihilated by now. But it would seem the heavens truly took no offense.
Pointing towards Salem, the tall man instructed the villagers to drop her in. And after a brief pause, the humans released their hold on Salem and watched her fall into the abyss. They wasted no time in leaving the moment she disappeared.
_____________________________
For a moment the pale witch felt nothing. A sudden snap reminded her that life was not yet over as she began to gasp for air. It would appear the fall had broken whatever remained of her body.
Salem did not expect this outcome in the slightest, nor did she expect to feel pain. Her legs seemed warm, almost boiling as an uncomfortable feeling took hold. Unwilling to accept her continued survival, Salem began to deny reality. But after a strange red glow illuminated the dark, she became certain of the truth. She was still alive.
Never before had she seen such a brilliant shade of crimson like the one emanating from her chest. Squinting her eyes, she witnessed the strange flower rise into the air like a ghost, a pulsating array of tiny square shapes surrounding its petals as the ethereal plant began to spin with an intensifying aura. Against all odds, Salem could feel the rest of her useless body slowly returning to her.
"This is my curse?" The girl thought to herself, her heart sinking with disappointment as the reason behind her suffering finally revealed itself.
Whether Salem wanted it or not, her body then began to shift on its own. Several plant-like appendages began to seep forth from her shattered limbs, joining each other in perfect unison. The glowing white cords would shiver and pulse, causing an excruciating amount of pain. But over time they would form together and repair the girl's broken body.
Salem screamed in frustration as the healing process continued without her consent. She was powerless to stop the strange entanglement from saving her. The rejuvenation was inevitable, and at last, once the work was done, a single red flower sprouted beside her, its glow now warm and gentle. Salem saw this as nothing more than a taunting gesture.
"So that's how it is then," she cried out in despair as she clutched her chest.
Rising to her feet, Salem took in what little surroundings she could. The bottom of the chasm was vast and cold, with an eerie silence all around. Her flower would be the only warmth and light she would get, regardless of how much she hated it. Salem took quite some time before she begrudgingly cradled that accursed flower in her hand, as she set off to wander the chasm. No more than a second passed before she tripped over a sharp bit of metal, cutting her soft leg. She would have cursed if she hadn't just experienced ten times the amount of pain. But after attempting to swat away the annoying obstacle, Salem's eyes widened in shock. She was surrounded by metal parts, big and small.
The complexity of these black pieces varied greatly as Salem continued to search. Some were as simple as a shard of glass, while others took the shape of robotic limbs. The girl was no scientist, but even she could tell the nature of these pieces was highly advanced. The world of Peruvia was home to several machines, both self-aware and stupid. She had seen thousands of mechanical creatures in her time, but during all her long years of wandering not a single robot she'd ever seen could compare to the dark fragments.
There were arms, legs, and heads spread about the room in a chaotic fashion. Expanding the glow of her flower, Salem could imagine what these otherworldly machines must have once looked like. They were no doubt warriors of some sort, given the sharp fingers and angular joints lying around. But strangest of all was the singular head Salem could spot mere steps away. Its size and shape were alien, with one cracked red eye surrounded by a tubular casing. The girl grasped the head gently and began to frown.
"Why would a machine come to die?" Salem wondered as she recalled the known history of Glacia. "If only I were this lucky."
Salem knelt before the robotic pieces and stared at them with jealousy. She had known machines to be blessed with absurdly long lives. But even these lives could be taken by the chasm. If not for the strange red flower, she was certain death would have been hers.
It was then that she took notice of her own legs, their pale skin mysteriously replaced with black metal. Only now did Salem realize the extent of the flower's strength. It did not merely heal her, for it was also capable of utilizing its surroundings to provide her ruined flesh with strength. Her reforged legs were slim and feminine, elegantly fashioned from the knee down.
Salem knew from that moment anything was possible, but none of it would matter as long as she herself remained powerless to change her fate. As it stood, she was still unable to die. That same frustrating prison of life still had to be removed, no matter the cost.
Salem then lay beside the greatest cluster of metal she could find, struggling to find a reason to carry on. She hadn't the will to feel bored or afraid. All she could do was reflect on her choices, and how little she cared for life. For years she had placed her last bit of sanity into the quest to find death. But at that moment, she felt as if truly everything had been taken from her. But perhaps she thought, if she could find the miracle of ambition, not everything would be in vain. But those were just her deepest delusions.
"What do I want? Truly?" The girl pondered.
Salem became oblivious to the time, laying in the same spot for what felt like years. But eventually, a single thought came to mind. The memory of the child she had held back in the village returned to her. And with that memory came a flood of emotions. Salem never did care for herself. but at that moment, she learned a valuable lesson. Life without self-worth is not entirely meaningless. For if she was capable of caring for another, then there was hope.
Clasping her hands together, Salem began to conjure what little she knew about the flower. Within the depths of her crazed mind, she kindly asked the strange power to fulfill her wish. It was the first time Salem had ever asked for something in such a way. All her years she accepted things as they were, never begging for anything. But now she pleaded with the flower to give her one real chance to live with something else.
To her surprise, the flower responded with a painful burst of energy, as if annoyed she did not ask earlier. All at once, a million little voices spoke inside her head in a jumbled mess she could barely understand. The flower was asking itself if she had seen the strange machines intact before. Somehow the answer sounded like approval in her mind. But Salem was far past the days of asking questions. All she wanted now were results.
Just then, a set of white tendrils burst from Salem's chest as they began collecting their surroundings. Piece by piece, the flower would collect the fragments before placing them into a complex mold of its own making. Sometimes it would hesitate as if recalling the next step, though not for long, as it would eventually resume its work with rejuvenated confidence.
The immense pain Salem at that moment was stiffened only by her amazement at the flower's work, realizing it had likely performed a similar trick on her own broken body.
"How long have you-," Salem stammered, realizing how dangerous and mysterious her benefactor truly was. She never considered her whole life could have been spent with a being far smarter and stronger than her. It was a better version of Salem in every way. All she could do now was helplessly wonder why the flower hadn't taken control of her long ago.
Ignoring Salem's query, the flower continued to work as it expanded its reach and forced the pale girl to her knees. She felt cold and numb as the work continued, her very essence drained. Salem reckoned this resulted from the flower reaching past her, proving her very existence was dependent on it.
A rather ominous shape took form as the machine neared completion. The body contained hands like claws and nails like daggers. Its feet were meant to support great weight while remaining light and nimble. Whoever designed it had a keen eye for both elegance and brutality. Salem could only imagine what sort of wonders could be seen from the machine and its makers. She was then convinced the alien was indeed from the stars above, just like the villagers had theorized. The girl continued to stare in awe at the craftsmanship that lay before her. Everything about the alien design fit a preference she never knew she had.
Unlike Salem's own body, the exoskeleton of the machine was exposed. No skin, no flesh, and certainly no warmth was to be found within the cold form. Salem widened her eyes as the flower retreated inside of her, its job well done. The finished robot was humanoid in nature, with two arms and legs. At first glance, it was strangely human for an alien construct. But a closer look suggested the machine was entirely stronger than any mere man. Salem reached out to the machine, mindlessly handing it a spark of her essence. Only through her flower could she give birth to the artificial child.
"Don't let me down now," Salem spoke to her flower as she continued to pour its power into her child. "Please."
For years Salem had been given the opportunity to bear a real child. Many men tried the act due to her unrivaled beauty. Some she even cared for, if only a little. But time and time again she would discover herself to be completely infertile. Only now did she have a real chance to call herself a mother.
The singular eye of the machine then came to life, emanating a crimson glow identical to Salem. Two facial plates surrounded the eye and began to shift, signifying a sense of feel and emotion. The machine was beginning to wake. Several etched words then appeared on the surface of the alien as its whole body began to light up in red. Salem could not read what they said, save for one word written in the common tongue.
"A Valekry," Salem whispered. "That's what you are."
Salem rose from her feet as she began to imagine her child's name. It was fine for it to be a Valekry, whatever that meant. But it still needed her name, something to make it hers. Salem could only think of one emotion as her lips began to form a smile. She had been thinking of it the moment she called upon the crimson power. Its unrivaled potential fueled something within her she had never felt before. She wanted answers and vengeance. In fact, she desperately needed them. Her place in Peruvia was no longer a mystery she could bear.
Salem felt wronged in a life she could not remember. But these emotions were not truly her own. They had been planted in her the moment she pleaded with the flower. It was an exchange she never agreed to. A deal had been struck behind her back while she was so utterly distracted. But even knowing this, Salem would regret nothing. She was thankful for her new child and embraced the sensations within her.
"Anger, his name will be Anger," she spoke in a heightened voice.
And thus, the first of Salem's children was born. Her love for it would be as pure as the crazed ambition that now burned within. Salem would leave the chasm a different girl. That much she knew for certain. The flower had won, setting things in motion to change the world.