Jonam weakly opened his eyes, battling against unconsciousness as strength slowly fled him.
Crawling out of his daze, the first things he heard were the tormented screams of Nave. His voice, which had been a howl of agony for a while now, became raspy and gruff, strained by the constant yells.
Still, it did not deter him from crying out his pain, for no amount of time could numb him against his current suffering.
"Oh, you're awake, Homunculus."
A young man with long raven-black hair and teal-colored eyes spoke to him, standing far below his dangling body on the ground of the cavern. He wore the white garb of the Henosis Seekers, marked by the sewn likeness of their sigil.
Once awoken from his stupor, Jonam's core and inherent constitution allowed him to maintain a minimum of calm. He started by inspecting his limbs, discovering that they were severed. Then, he glanced at the source of the unending wails, finding his comrade, Nave, crucified against one of the ten branches of a giant cross.
A thick stream of Mana was forcibly channeled into his body, not unlike an Insight Ritual. However, volume and methodology differed, causing the magus' body to break apart as the corruptive flow slowly consumed his organs and putrefied his flesh from the inside.
"I see," the young man added after getting ignored. "Even with their instilled humanity, the Mekkubal Order's Homunculi do not know manners."
Jonam looked down at him, expressionless. "Why am I not dead?"
"You're a unique specimen, so the Ten Kanaph wish to study you. Be honored, tool, for there is no greater blessing than to be puppeteered by their hands."
"How honest." Jonam sighed, his face sinking. "Even the enemy refuses to grant me the solace of death. Mayhaps it's the August One's punishment for my deviancy."
"Still," he added. "I applaud you. You were the one that sent Pelopia my way, am I right? Her mere existence gave me the answers to a myriad of questions all at once, which sent me into a panic and made me lower my guard. You took advantage of that and lured Nave and me to your trap, one by one."
"I don't need recognition from a mere Homunculus," he spat.
"The sentiment is shared. Such subtleties are wasted on fools like you, but I digress." Jonam turned his gaze towards Nave, though he was more focused on the mechanism of his torment. "We were wondering why you had grown smarter all of a sudden, but I'm glad it's not the case. Turns out it was simple guidance. Even a dog can behave well if strained by a leash."
"I see the Kabbalists of Yetzirah display their haughtiness even in their creations," the young man said. "I would rather have you muted, but alas, I was ordered not to damage you any further. How does it feel that your life hangs on the whims of the very beings you despise?"
"As disgusting as the entity you're trying to summon, I would guess," Jonam replied coolly. "Quite an elaborate plan, I must say. You spread the Pale Malady with Nahaliel and stabilized the half-Dead Spirits with Araqiel only for this purpose, I assume?"
Strangely enough, Jonam's mind unveiled the entire plan while strung to a pillar. Perhaps it was ironically due to the cold, calculated realization that his role was done in this entire matter, leaving him detached enough to connect the dots.
"The half-Dead Spirits must have been linked to a fragment of your Apocryphon to serve as foundational sacrifices. Then, once the entity you're trying to summon answers the call, you plan on wooing it to cooperate by serving it the thousands of plague-touched innocents as offerings. Devoted as you are, the Primordial Seraphim's servants have never seemed inclined to help your endeavors willingly."
"And what do you know of our devotion, you little tool?"
"Nothing at all, to be sure. The depth of your senseless zealotry is incomparable to the purity and wisdom the August One's radiance inspires us. You're blinded by the false light of a greedy deity—a being who does not even acknowledge your faith. When will you wake up from your sad, pitiful dream?"
The young man's gaze turned bloodshot, visibly livid. "You dare utter such blasphemy in front of me?"
Jonam sneered. "Oh, did I strike a nerve? You must be a fledgling, still, to turn irate at such discourse. A proof of sanity, mayhaps? Despite hosting the Archangel Araqiel, you do seem quite rational—the fruit of the research you've been conducting on sacrificial rituals, as I see. By making someone other than the host bear the burden of the summoning, you can retain your wits whilst accessing the Angel's power."
The young man kept silent, though the shift in his expression gave Jonam enough clues about the answer. He sighed again, his blue eyes locked onto his suffering companion.
"I presume this ten-branched cross holds a fragment of the Apocryphon of Ataxia. You plan on making Nave the host for the monstrosity you're trying to call, but the half-Dead Spirits are the ones who will suffer the payment. Madmen are more difficult to control through Araqiel, after all, and you'd rather avoid any anomaly with an Eidolon this powerful."
The young man grew restless, unsure of what to do. Jonam tilted his head, amused by his reaction.
"Why are you so shocked? In voluntarily giving us clues, incompetent individuals will always reveal more than necessary. As it happens, I am angry at my circumstances but unable to vent due to my lack of limbs. You'll find me irritatingly chatty, I'm afraid."
The young man massaged his temples, trying to calm himself down. "Talking is all you can do, anyway. Prattle all you want. It doesn't matter."
"Well, since I have your blessing, I'm curious about one thing," Jonam declared. "Why did you choose a magus from the Mekkubal Order as a host? Surely, you have no lack of zealots who would willingly offer themselves."
The young man chuckled. "Oh, this one naturally evades you, Homunculus. It's a fact that your masters do not care about you. They would gladly throw you into the fray and use you as meatshields, for artificial lives do not matter to them."
"But their comrades? Their fellow humans? How many have I seen squeak in despair, unable to end their precious friends!"
"Distasteful," Jonam replied with a look of contempt, though he grew worried.
He knew more than anyone how close the ties between the various branch leaders and the current commander, Yaen Beracha, were. If push came to shove and they faced a controlled Nave, he couldn't guarantee they would strike him down without hesitation.
The surge of Mana suddenly spiked, and its strands drilled even more fiercely into the crucified Nave. The ten-branched cross gained an eerie, grayish glow, followed by the sound of a crack—a dreaded sign that the miasma of the Reverse Boundary of the World was starting to spill into reality.
The young man spread his arms toward the giant Relic, joy etched on his face.
"It is time. Let the ritual begin!"