Rebirth of the Nephilim

Noise.

There was too much noise. Annoying. Frustrating. Intolerable. She did not like the loud sounds coming from the Clever One. It was noise. Sound without purpose. The noise struck her like a physical blow. It made her itch. She wanted it to stop. But the Clever One did not stop. It kept making noise.

Twisted Desire was growing angry.

“What happened to those fools I left in Glanum!?” it screamed at the Meek One. “Where were the explosions!? Where was the poison!? The sacrifice!? After all that, all the effort and resources expended, and they did nothing! They had explicit instructions to enter the stage as soon as Jadis had exited! Where are they!?”

“We have not had contact with them since the night before your attack,” The Meek one responded in its less noisy voice. “They may have been caught. They may not have even received the instructions, Master Playwright. We have no other operatives left in Glanum and I cannot confirm—”

“And why is it that we do not have any actors left on one of our most important stages!?” the Clever One screeched. “Useless, incompetent morons! Does no one know how to follow a script!? Must I exhaust myself even further by replicating myself? Must I play every role? Fah! This is intolerable! I cannot believe I am being forced to work with so many idiotic, foolhardy, hopeless—”

Twisted Desire turned her attention away from the Clever One. She did not understand most of the word sounds it made, but she knew enough that she could tell it was not worth her focus. It was not being clever. It was being noisy. Its plan had failed. It had failed. So, it was angry.

Pointless.

Twisted Desire had failed. She had tried to capture her desire, and she had failed. So close. So very, very, close. She had touched its skin. Felt its power moving beneath her. She had tasted its blood. She wanted more. More. More.

Failure.

She had failed, but she was not dead. She would try again. She would have her desire. She would make it a part of her. Its strength would be her strength. Its beauty would be her beauty. She wanted it. She wanted it more than any other prey she had tasted before. It tasted so, so good.

The Urge stroked her thoughts. He approved. The End of All urged her to take what she desired, and she desired the Strong One. Satisfaction at the idea filled her being. She warmed her soul to the thought. The Strong One would be inside her. It would become a part of her, and she would be so, so much closer to being whole. To being One.

Noise.

Annoyance.

“How did you not see this coming!? You told me Samleos had confirmed Wilhelm had followed my plotline! Instead, that giant simpleton and her flock of fools showed up instead! I do not even know where Wilhelm is now!”

The Clever One’s shouting interrupted her pleasant thoughts. Frustration. Irritation. Disappointment. It had told her she would be able to take the Betrayer into herself. To make that filthy one a clean part of her. That she would then have her chance to take the Strong One. They would be One.

Wrong.

“I can only surmise that something changed between my communion and that most unfortunate night,” the Seeing One creaked out with its high-pitched sounds. “No future is set in stone.”

“Then why should I even bother asking if I cannot receive a reliable answer!?” the Clever One made even more noise as it tossed a large piece of wood across the room. She thought the word was table. Maybe not. “Useless! All of you, useless!”

“Calm down,” the Spiked One said from where it stood by the open hole in the wall. “Dramatic hysterics will not help. We must regroup. Reform. We try again.”

“Try again? Try again!?” The Clever One shouted more angry words. Or the noise was angry and the words were not. Twisted Desire was not sure. The taste in the air was angry. “You fail to comprehend how much I expended for this show only for it to flop! Utterly! Do you think the eyes of sphinx are something I can get so easily? And the omen jewel? Never mind the dragon! Months of effort wasted on the dragon alone! Do we even have any Eitr Tongue left?”

“A single vial,” the Meek One responded. “Ahita may have more growing…”

“It will be many years before those seedlings grow to a point where they will flower, much less produce a usable amount of Eitr nectar,” The Bleeding One made tastes that were filled with anger and disgust. “Unless you want to return to the Verdant Sea—”

“Pointless,” the Clever One drowned out the Bleeding One’s words with more noise. “Utterly pointless, unless Ilmarinen can make us—”

She turned away from the source of such annoying noise. The Clever One had motioned with its limbs towards the Dead One and Cruel Touch. Her interest shifted to that side of the room. What they were doing was more interesting. No noise. No annoyance.

Cruel Touch had put her small form flat on one of those wooden things. Table. Chair? Block. The noises prey used were difficult to parse. Cruel Touch’s body was… pleasing. Powerful. Strong. But it was ugly. Rough. Too small. It felt… incomplete. The red wings were interesting.

Twisted Desire had tried wings. She had made them a part of her. The Bright One had given her a fine wing to go with the tender arm she had ripped from its flesh. They were interesting. Different. But she could not fly. She had tried. She could not get them to work the way the prey with wings were able to. She did not want more wings.

Cruel Touch could fly. She made the wings work. She liked the body she had become a part of. That was her flaw. Cruel Touch was strong. She was smart. She was also easy to please. That made her small. Limited. Lacking.

Incomplete.

Twisted Desire wanted more.

The Dead One was doing something with metal and magic. Cruel Touch’s lower limbs had lost their shell. Weak flesh was exposed. Twisted Desire shed weak flesh when it was damaged, but Cruel Touch could not. She had to fix the flesh to keep her lesser form from falling apart. Metal protected the weak flesh, but she had lost some. The Dead One was fixing the metal shell, Twisted Desire could see that. Metal and magic. She did not understand how it worked. But she understood the power.

Value.

There was value in the Dead One. It made powerful things of metal and magic for Demons to use. There was value in the Bleeding One. It grew things that hurt other prey and made Demons strong. There was value in the Seeing One. It spoke the will of The End of All. There was value in the Spiked One. It was strong and killed other prey for Demons. There was value in the Meek One. It was obedient and made magic to help Demons.

Was there value in the Clever One?

Twisted Desire had thought so. The Clever One had killed many prey and made Demons strong. It gave Twisted Desire limbs to grow more complete. It had promised many things. Many things to her and others. The Clever One had promised Covetous Miser a greater body. The Clever One had promised the Dead Head Matriarch more heads. The Clever One had promised Demon Prince Vinea the end of the Hero. The Clever One had promised the Demons that all the prey in that place by the hurting water would be dead.

Nothing the Clever One had promised had come true.

Twisted Desire did not have her Strong One.

Frustration.

Anger.

Rage.

Why anger?

Twisted Desire focused on Cruel Touch. She was curious. Twisted Desire’s taste had leaked out and Cruel Touch wanted to know more. That was why she loved and hated Cruel Touch. Smaller Demons feared her anger. They ran. They were right to do so. Twisted Desire was powerful and she could end them at her desire. Cruel Touch did not run. She asked why. Irritating. But also interesting.

No Strong One. Incomplete. Anger. Desire. Need more.

Cruel Touch’s small body moved. She opened weak flesh so that Twisted Desire could see her tentacles. Taste was not enough to convey true meaning, and the four limbs of her small body in their metal shell were inadequate.

Strong One protected the Betrayer. Strong One kill Covetous Miser. Strong One run.

Twisted Desire expressed impatience. She knew all that Cruel Touch knew. She had watched. She had seen. She had waited in the great nest for the promise the Clever One had made and received nothing. She told Cruel Touch as much.

Then Cruel Touch gave her a thought she had not considered before.

Clever Onelies.

Lie?

Lie.

Yes, Clever One lies. Twisted Desire knew this. Clever One lies to prey. It uses magic and false sights to trick and manipulate prey. That is why it is clever. Twisted Desire tried to learn its ways, but the magic did not come to her in her second form. Her Second form is big and more complete than her weak first form, but no magic. She had to use other ways to trick and deceive. Not all attempts worked. Unsuccessful.

Clever One lies to prey.

Twisted Desire spoke her knowledge and grew angry as Cruel Touch’s being tasted of amusement.

Clever One lies to Demons.

Clever One… Lies to Demons?

Clever One… Lied to Her?

Twisted Desire became still. She had not considered. She had not thought. But it made sense. The Clever One lied to control prey. Why not lie to control Demons? It was supposed to be her Clever One. It was supposed to make her complete. It lived to make her strong.

But what if it lied to her?

Why?

Twisted Desire knew why. It was why she allowed it to live. Because it made her strong. It was using her to make it strong. The Clever One manipulated her. Used her. Made her into its prey. It had lied to her.

Fury.

Fury!

No!

No! No! No!

Yes.

Cruel Touch was amused. She thought her fury was amusing. Humorous. Funny. She was wrong.

Kill.

Cruel Touch’s amusement faded, but fear did not replace the obnoxious taste. Certainty. Assurance. Understanding.

Kill Clever One.

Twisted Desire turned her attention to the prey that had lied. It was still making loud noises at the valuable ones. She considered. She could kill it. The prey before her was not one of many falsehoods. The body was real. She could kill the prey and take its limbs. She could become stronger. Maybe strong enough to match the Strong One.

Do it. Protected.

Cruel Touch encouraged her. She offered protection against reprisal.

Lies.

Manipulation.

She understood the other Demon well. Cruel Touch was angry at the Clever One but did not want to risk losing her body to the other prey. Twisted Desire had learned much from watching the Clever One. She had been tricked. But she had learned. She had been stupid to not consider the Clever One would lie to her as well, but she was not so stupid as Cruel Touch thought she was.

Still. Cruel Touch was right. The Clever One was using her. Using the Demons. It was prey that thought itself clever, but it had forgotten that it was prey. So, it was not so smart after all. But it was strong. It had powerful magic. Magic that Twisted Desire could use.

She had been saving her next form for the Betrayer. The End of All had been pleased by that thought. Now, though, she thought that it would be better to use her next form for the Clever One. No more waiting. She would be closer to complete. She would grow powerful. She would maybe grow powerful enough to make the Strong One a part of her.

Pleasure.

Delight.

Desire.

Yes.

Twisted Desire felt the Urge’s displeasure. The End of All disagreed. Disapproved. She did not care. He did not understand. She would show him. This was right. This was good. Her desire was all that mattered in the end, after all.

She would be complete.

“—if you cannot procure more stagehands from the empire, do so in Volto! Do I have to explain every minor detail to you, Otho? Has your incompetence waxed in measure to your waning hairline? How can we be expected to perform any rituals without sacrifices! And you!”

The Clever One spun around to face her as she approached. She understood the way its face twisted and contorted to mean anger and rage. She knew the sounds it was making were signs of displeasure. Its anger and displeasure did not matter anymore.

“You, you failure,” the Clever One made great noise as it shook one of its fingers at her. “If you had captured the mage or the oracle like I had told you to in Glanum, none of this would have happened to begin with! I am already beset by the folly of mortal idiots who will not stay on script, I do not need you or your kin to do the same! What use are you if you cannot follow your lines! By Samleos, I would rather die then present such a disappointing, lackluster, incompetent performance like that ever ag—”

All noise was silenced as Twisted Desire’s jaws snapped shut around the body of the Clever One. There was a lovely crunching vibration that went through her as its bones broke within her. The taste of flesh and blood filled her, and she reveled in the sensation. Almost she forgot to touch that place within her mind that would let her grow to her next form. She might have forgotten completely, except that the other prey were moving around her. Some in fear. Some in anger. She had to grow strong quickly. Before any might think to attack.

Blessings.

The Playwright Slain.

Bonus Experience Points Awarded

for Destroying a Child of the Nine.

Pleasure.

The Urge had been wrong. The End of All’s blessing still fell upon her. She was right to kill the Clever One. Its true value was clear. It was prey. By killing, she became stronger. Powerful. Closer to complete. Closer to One.

“Abyss, what has it done!?” the Meek one was making more noise. “The Demon has gone wild! What is it doing now!? Roul! Kill it!”

“Stop! Sheath your sword. I wish to see.”

The Seeing One was right to halt the Spiked One. Twisted Desire would have slain the Spiked One if it had tried. Her body had changed. She was still changing. The imperfect flesh and bone and blood were growing stronger. Shifting. Becoming more. She was so much more now. Even incomplete, the Spiked One was so much less than her than a moment before.

“By Samleos’ blessed eye,” the Meek One feel to its knees as it prostrated itself before her. “I… I cannot believe…”

“Interesting…” the Seeing One spoke quiet words. Its taste had grown pleased. “I had not predicted this. What a lovely sight for these old eyes.”

“We may still need to kill it,” the Spiked One radiated hostility. “I will not be a meal for Demons while my enemies still breathe.”

A meal for Demons. Twisted Desire smiled at the idea. She understood what those words meant. She had cracked open the Clever One’s brain and picked out the pieces that she needed to be stronger. She had much better understanding now. Twisted Desire did not need to remain silent.

No. Not Twisted Desire. She was more than that inadequate self now that she had reached her third form. So much more.

“You may… Breathe…” she spoke with words so that the Spiked One could understand. So that all her valuable prey could understand and comprehend. “I will… Not eat… Spiked One…”

More movement. More reactions from the prey. Surprise. Discomfort. Fear. Even Cruel Touch’s taste had grown wary. She reveled in the pleasure of those wonderful tastes.

“What are you…” the Spiked One asked. On guard. Ready to fight. “How can you speak?”

“You may… Breathe…” she repeated, ignoring his questions because her will was more important. “So long… As you… Obey…”

“Obey?” the prey asked.

“Obey…”

She rose high, enjoying the stretch of her many new limbs as she surveyed the valuable creatures surrounding her. She felt her smile turn to a grin on her new face. Unfamiliar. But welcome. The feeling was right. She had plans for her valuable tools. Plans for the Demons waiting outside. Plans even for Cruel Touch. And most of all, she had plans for the Strong One and the pale flesh she desired.

“Obey… Me… Obey… Demon PrinceDesire…”