Answer, Sea damn you. “Qiathumariel!” You yelled out. “Qiathumariel!”

  Five minutes since you’d started calling out for him. Two since Zeta had lost consciousness and was mumbling in his torturous slumber, mouth lost inside two irregular tumors formed at each of its sides, threatening to tear out of his skin. He was watching, you knew. Had probably felt your first uttering of his name seconds before you’d done it. Was probably deliberating with his System-borne wife, Apricot, on how to approach this matter. If it needed approaching at all.

  “I know you hear me, Old Green,” you said, cradling Zeta’s heating head. “Help me. Please, Qitha.”

  Was he listening? You wondered. Maybe you were wrong. Majority of his time was spent in Oshveperthe these days. Why would he be listening to the rumblings of the world above when he no longer cared for it? Suddenly, you felt foolish for thinking otherwise. For yelling out like an old man seeking the help of a former teacher who’d been sadistic at the best of times. Why would he even help if he’d been listening. If your positions were changed and he were the one asking out for your help, you wouldn’t give it. You’d let him suffer alone. Let him kill Apricot, or Forest alone. And laugh while he did it. Your father suffered for nothing, red, hot deformed flesh dancing like a parasite lived within it as it continued to multiply. Smoke was starting to form from him. The Sterile room let its alarms boom in warning. It was time to cut your losses. Kill Zeta before a mutation was detected. It was the only thing to do. The only thing you could do.

  Your legs still glowed a bright purple. The door to the Wellspring of the Star-Trap was still open, even if you hadn’t drawn from it since the God-Skill had backfired. There was energy there. Energy that could be used to do what needed to be done. Energy that wanted to be used. It was time. With a deep breath, you let that Techno-Mana in, red and sizzling. The God-Skill you’d wanted to use before had been a recent addition. One that hadn’t needed the full-breadth of your potential. But the one you wanted to use now had kept you company for generations. Since before Mattheus stole the Graystone name and started a Corporation with it. Since before you’d met Qiathumariel. It had been the first God-Skill you’d attained after you’d stumbled from the God-Path; after you’d become a [Hellion]—though you’d never used it before. [Fires.Of.Pluto], it was called; Level 51—and it required all of you, all that you were capable of, to work. The Core-Stone around everyone’s rooms would keep them safe. You and Zeta and the rest of the Planet, on the other hand. Only those with bunkers or those powerful enough to withstand it would survive. Azymandia would continue the mission. Pay the Price for you. For Plea. Break the Foundation. Defeat the Graystones. You sent out the distress call. The Red filled the entirety of your Weight, and the conversion process began. Energy Artifica bloomed within your Body and soon enough, the Conversion was complete.

  A bump had already began to form on your hand. Feeling at it, your eyes found Zeta’s... They were open. Visible. Healed. The swelling; it was going down. The burning mountains above his mouth, growing colder and smaller. As was the rest of them. All shrinking. All becoming obscure. Even the bump at the back of your hand was retreating, slow and steady. There were still dark-purple bruises painting the once-swollen areas on the skin, but he looked far better than he did a minute ago.

  “Zeta,” you smiled.

  “You were really going to do it, weren’t you?” He said, and your smile faded. “Take the whole planet down with you.”

  He rose from your lap gazing around at the room, as a white robe started to form around him. “Qitha,” he stood from the elevated floor and you followed suit.

  “And Apri, she’s watching through my eyes…” he said. “Well, your friend’s eyes.”

  “Get out.”

  “First you call me here, then you tell me to leave,” Qitha said. “All while trying to go No Witnesses on the whole korring planet. A simple knife to the throat would have sufficed, you know that, right. No need for Pluto’s soul-killing fires when your soul is only one small step from destruction.”

  “I said, get out of him!”

  “Oh, he’s fine. I need his body if we’re going to talk. Make a deal.”

  “Make a deal?”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  “For what? We don’t need anything from you,” you said, even as a small sliver of doubt started to creep in. “My skill worked.”

  At that, he laughed. “That dainty thing couldn’t have worked if the Prime-Walker came down and used it themself. All it did was act the catalyst. Speed up the mutation. Make the merging even more unstable, if that was possible. You had two hours before it. Now you have sixteen minutes, at best.”

  Sixteen minutes. “He’ll be alright.”

  “Yes, he will. If we make a deal. If you let me help,” Qitha said.

  You looked at Zeta’s face, being used by someone very different from him. Someone you despised. A mockery. How could you let him stay? Let him use Zeta like that. He can help him. Can save him. The reason you’d called for the damnable man in the first place. But you hadn’t expected him to possess the System-borne. It was unjust. Cruel. “And if I refuse?”

  “Then, I’ll leave you to your planet-killing. And the mutation I’m keeping at bay will come back in full force. For you. For him.”

  Because of you. “Tell me what you want.”

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Fifteen minutes lay between you and the possible full mutation of one of the only people you cared for. Fifteen minutes of being beholden to one among the myriad of those you’d wanted to kill in the most painful of ways. Fifteen minutes. And he stayed quiet tapping at one of the OrganGens, watching it move away from him as if annoyed.

  “Qiathumariel?”

  He turned to look at you. “Mmmmh.”

  “The terms? What do you seek from me.”

  “You already know what I want.”

  “If it is those OrganGens, then you can have them. Now, rid him and I of our malady, quickly.”

  “Funny things, these OrganGens. A millennia since their creation and not a single upgrade since. They keep changing the skin. Keep making them look different, so the unaware can hand over the credits, but might as well be static,” he said.

  “Do you think me, a fool?”

  “I think you’re selfish enough to kill an entire planet with you needlessly. Scratch that—I know because I almost witnessed it happen. But no, I don’t think you a fool,” he said. “You know what I want.”

  Qitha walked over to the air-lock’s inner door and put his hand on the module next to it. The screen flashed in red. “Were you intending to trap him here?”

  Fourteen minutes. “I don’t know if you’re aware, Qitha, but normally, when someone wants to strike a deal, especially in a time-crunch, they say what they korring want!”

  He put his hand on the module again. Flashing red. “But, you already know what I want, Nathaniel.”

  This was going nowhere. You tried a different tact. “It’s alright if you didn’t come prepared, you know. No rush. I’ll let you think it over; after you’ve completely healed us, that is.”

  He turned back to look at you. “Heal your bodies. I think we have a misunderstanding. I could heal your bodies, if I wanted to. But that’s not what I’m offering. The deal, on my end, is simple. End the mutation, save your souls by destroying your minds. You might survive it, form a new facet while still here and be able to stay, but Zenda’Ataru won’t. His soul will get to move on, though; to the Prime-Walker’s domain—instead of dying here to Pluto’s fire.”

  Sea-damned Hellion. “That isn’t what we agreed to!”

  He tried his luck with the module again. Another red flash. “We haven’t agreed to anything, yet,” he said. “And I’m getting tired of this routine, Natha; but you know what I want.”

  Twelve minutes. You charged at him, taking him by the collar of his robe and pressing him against the hard-glass window of the inner door. His eyes darted up to the ceiling, before coming back down to meet your glare. He let out a laugh. “Heal his body!”

  “The one you’re actively bruising as we speak, that body?” Qitha asked, and you punched him. Punched Zeta.

  He laughed again as you backed away. Eleven minutes. “Please heal him,” you said after a moment. “If any part of you has ever cared about me, Welimirua; heal my father. Please.”

  A heartbeat passed. Two. Three. Gazes locked as he considered, or you hoped he did. “No,” your heart fell. “But I can change the terms.”

  “How so?”

  “Switch places with him. Bodies. And when I kill your minds, heal your souls…”

  “The body I’m in dies, so I move on to the Soul Plane.”

  “While I help him make a new Mind facet here. He lives. You die.”

  “And if the mutation in this body persists? If it gets worse instead of better?”

  “You’ll have been gone by then. So, I’ll heal him. Make sure he comes out of it, whole,” Qitha said.

  Nine minutes. “Don’t want around here, that much, huh?” You asked.

  “You gave her my last name, Natha. Made my front door her spawn-point. Why?”

  Because I wanted you to stop me. “She’s one of my wife’s recruits. I wanted Oshveperthe all too myself. Zima wanted me to have backup. The most powerful Pillar of Cho is too dangerous in her eyes. So I gave Forest your name, sent her off to you, figuring you’d get agitated and kill her or something. Didn’t expect you to grow a conscience in the last minute. Decide to take a new born in as your own.”

  Eight minutes. “And what did you do today?” Qitha asked.

  “I was born in the wrong era, as Tolemvaria. My mother has decreed that Aristocracy has come to an end in the Seas of Oshveperthe. She is to be the last monarch born for the throne. One of her apprentices has already won the election. And I need the Ocean in my hands if I’m going to fan the flames of war against the other Pillars; so I... got an idea and ran with it. Didn’t expect her to show up. Didn’t expect Zeta to show up either.” Because of you.

  “Need I say more?”

  Seven minutes. “No. I know what you want. I know why you’re here. To take her. Keep her away from bad company.”

  “I want more than that. Don’t give a Korr what you do to the other pillars, but stop fanning war at my home.”

  “Well, considering it also happens to be one of Mattheus’ homes. And I happened to have killed him; that’s going to be a little tough.”

  “How so?”

  “Hellions can’t die unless all their people are dead, or their home is a walking hell-scape. The price must be paid, or the Universe falls.”

  “Not necessarily. I have never known the Universe to fall, have you? It’ll correct itself with or without your help, whether that means killing you, or bringing back the Prime Hellion from death.”

  Six. “The bastard has to stay dead.”

  “Is his death more important to you than your father’s life?” Qitha asked.

  One heartbeat later, you shook your head. “What of Azymandia?”

  “What of Azymandia?”

  “She wants Graystone Corp dead and buried. It’s not going to happen if one of the Pillars they stole from her ancestor is still operational under their purview. Making them powerful.”

  “Then steal the pillars.”

  “Kind of hard, considering they’re hidden across the galaxy.”

  “Harder than waging war across the Seven Pillars of Cho?”

  “Actually, yes.”

  “I’ll talk to her. After you’re gone,” Qitha said. “Do we have deal?”

  You nodded. He turned back to the airlock, “Now, Apri.”

  The module flashed green. You moved back to the elevated central ground as the door hissed open. The outer door opened a minute later.

  Despondent, you waited for your bodies to switch. It didn’t feel real. That you were about to die. Even though the fires had been poised to burn way sooner than. You imagined Azymandia coming back, seeing Zeta. Thinking it was you. Decided to call her, but thought better of it. One minute and she would convince you to turn back the deal. It couldn’t happen. Zeta had to live. Even if it meant not saying goodbye. Even if it meant being selfish, in a way. One minute went by. Then another. Before you started doubting your former teacher. Had he lied? Taken Forest and run without fulfilling his promise. Without leaving the body he’d possessed—Zeta’s body—at the safe-house. You stood up, ready to leave the room, see what the delay was, when you had the outer door open. A minute later, the inner door opened as well. In Qitha came, and he was smiling. No. Not Qitha.

  “God-Skill attained: [Facet.Unmerging] Level 1, 7/7 uses left. Full Class attained: [Phantom], Level 1. Do you accept… Nathaniel Oheritas?”

  You walked over to the System-borne, careful to catch any of your old teacher’s tricks. “Zeta?”

  “It’s me, Tola,” he said, and you hugged him.

  “I thought you were…”

  “He changed his mind while coming back up here. Something about the stairs being too many. Told me to tell you to keep your word.” You looked him in the eyes again. It was him. It was him. He was alive. “Do you accept?”

  “I accept,” you started walking toward the door.

  “[Understood]”

  “I have so much to show you...”