It snows.

The pallidity drifts

Creeping silently

Over ragged stone

To paint

The edges of my windows

With images

I can no longer abide,

And for which

I can no longer atone.

A life measured in winters past

And faces.

So many faces,

A startling whirlwind of warm embraces,

Nestled within the endless chances of

Complete rebirth.

Vibrant hands knocked

Upon my door

To be greeted with a smile that would,

In this late season,

Shatter my fragile maw.

The dust

Would carry their laughter,

Feint memories echo through

This barren hall,

And all is dust now.

White dust,

Resting upon

Lost springtide’s pall.

A treacherous path so few care to traverse

Dry bones a barrier,

Dry minds a curse.

Forgotten,

A hollow chested heart beats,

Bared.

Its pulse

Little more

Than a forgotten chime.

And still it snows,

Is this my time?

The grass was crisp and rigid. So often at this time of year, it felt as though Mother Nature had suffered a moment of absent thought. Leaving an echo of the summer months to linger through the fall-of-leaves before making a hurried attempt to flick the heat off in a panic the day after Halloween. So, even though the morning was bright, almost blinding, the blades of grass were dusted with the radiant crystals of winter.

Despite the cold beneath her feet, she found a deep sense of satisfaction from the crunching sound of her weight on the terrain. Each footstep an act of deliberate destruction, collapsing the abode of insects. For a moment she thought about stepping back inside, back into the world of radiators, chairs that swaddled her whole body, plump cushions and food. There was always food to be discovered and devoured within those walls. She felt her attention slip from thoughts of the changing season and come to rest in her stomach. Hungry? No. The meals being conjured by her imagination would wait. This was the time for exploration, for reacquainting herself with the Earth in its sleeping colours. The whites, blues, and faded yellows sitting in stark contrast against a blanket of stubborn green. Lawns only faded in the summer - starved of rainfall and punished by a relentless sun. But in the winter grass could gorge itself on slipshod water, too heavy to remain in the sky, resting in a stupor at the approach of dawn.

Out of the gate and onto the path. The uneven paving slabs and tar snakes had never been a match for her sure-footed strides. Unexpected tumbles had never been her forte.

In through another gate, a neighbouring garden; even the familiar piqued her curiosity. That gratifying sound of worlds demolished was diminished here. The sun that had yet to lay its golden fingers upon her home and already begun its work in this little enclave. Soft, damp and chilled ground felt much like a deep-piled rug that had been left to spoil in the elements. The scent, however, was fresh, unadulterated by people and vehicles soon to begin their arduous task of to-ing and fro-ing. Looking miserable as they left, and even more so as they returned.

She preferred this garden to her own, a treasure trove of unearthed delights for the restless-minded. She didn’t mind the fact that the carved granite bird-bath held nothing but stagnant, undrinkable water ringed with moss and grime, as there was always something abandoned without care or tucked away by accident for her to encounter. They made this place for her.

Her awareness was seized by an almost iridescent, coloured ball formed from the plastic that remains slippery regardless of how it is touched. It sat within the wild growth at the base of a fence made discoloured and porous by the morning dew. Making careful judgments about how and where to step, she eased forward keeping alert for any signs of an unexpected invasion into her private investigation.

Another aroma. Something recognised. Something desired. Pure, brisk and refreshing. Wild mint. She bathed in the fragrance, opening her mouth slightly to allow the bracing air to carry the flavoured mist onto her tongue. Just one leaf…

Remember! The word sprung into her mind fully formed - no long rambling train, no bubbles of confused meandering. Remember. They had tempted her before - the cool leaves sweetening her saliva and flowing like a fresh breeze through her nostrils. She had over indulged, an easy feat for someone so small, and her stomach had groaned and bloated in its discontent - initially with an unwelcome surge of angry chemicals, then with full regurgitation. The following days had been spent in a sea of queasiness, pain and a fear of any food placed before her. Remember.

She forced herself to return her interrupted attention to the radiant sphere that had initially brought her into the path of the appetising but dangerous plant. She nudged its sleek surface, rolled it forwards and backwards questioning both its movement and how much control she could exert upon it. Crouching, she placed it against her nose. True cold. The cold of lifelessness that could only be felt upon inanimate objects. She wanted to take it, snatch it away and claim it as a trophy dedicated to her own ingenuity - her very own pirate’s chest. But, sinking into her own conscience, she told herself it didn't really belong to her - it would stain her mind as a constant reminder of trespass and theft. The reality was that her thick coat had no pockets to speak of; at least not one large enough to obscure her crime. She wondered if she should taste it before leaving; place her tongue on the frigid surface hoping to pick up a feint suggestion of the forbidden plant. The memory of her stomach, bloated and in turmoil, answered the question for her.

But, tucking the trinket away, further into the undergrowth could do no harm, could it? There was still the chance it could, in time, be considered lost to whoever owned it, and her’s to claim. Tomorrow, perhaps…

The rest of the world was waking now, bring noise and discomfort to the grey pavements and black roads. Now was the time to be careful; distracted adults paid infrequent attention to anything other than their final destination. Their clothes displayed a sudden change like the season itself. Bright and airy cottons that had been considered essential just a few days before, abandoned and replaced by subdued woollens in shades of navy and gun-metal.

Their faces ashen and drawn, even the plump ones, as though resigned to the idea that the sun had withdrawn its affection. A little sympathy rose within her for those who could not feel, nor even imagine, the wonder of a sleeping planet. A momentary pause, to watch them. Curiosity begging to know how such a slight chill could bring them so low. Unlike them, she had so much more to explore, and a weakened drowsy sun would head to bed so much earlier in the days of dormancy, casting shadows over already hidden treats.

Darting out of the way of their heavy, defeated footsteps, she squeezed herself around a white-bricked corner. This road was home to the evergreens, lush in their perpetual fertility and defiant against the approach of the long nights. She was like them, and they like her - gutsy, audacious rule-breakers.

But then…

She felt it before she heard it. Crashing into her bones, stealing the air from tiny lungs. Her speed, her flight, became plain only at the sight of unknown territory. Naked trees, grass forcing its way through unsteady concrete and buildings so tall that they must have ended in the realm of the clouds. Her blood bulged and raged against the confines of her veins. Waking nightmares expanded, exploded until they had pushed all rational thought out of her mind, leaving nothing but raw, vivid images of manifesting fear. Behind her lay carnage, she was certain of that; broken hearths, charred bodies, blindness, deafness - life changed in a horrid, irrevocable way. What had broken the ceasefire?

"I cannot allow him to betray them." Her comment was only partly for the ears of her second in command as she stared into The Void. She had become increasingly worried about the fragmented and erratic behaviour of the admiral, but his latest endeavour should have rung alarm bells throughout the entire fleet. Instead, there had been constant reminders of her fragile position as the only female commanding a ship of the Arch, despite the fact that she had been chosen by the leader himself to be the El of the first pinnace.

" You have no mandate. No support. You have to___"

" This isn't about me!" Her hand slapped the wall beside the porthole. The cold reverberated up her arm, invisible rivulets of frost creeping along her golden skin. " This is about his law! It’s designed to protect us as well as them!" She had been cowed before; kept her silence when the original plan was floated, stayed within the boundaries of obedience as the flawed contrivance was put into motion. But what she was witnessing now was nothing short of unabashed cruelty. A toying, if you will, with the lives of those who had no choice in their own beginnings. A flagrant and illegal abuse of power. Only a man could misuse his abilities in that fashion, she thought. And only a man would continue to play such an underhand game with unknowing participants.

" He placed his code in them Micha. His code. He made them like us."

" They are nothing like us!"

" Really? So you've seen them?" The officer averted his gaze in a weak attempt to hide his ignorance. " There are many elements that clearly link them to the rest of the cattle; but their essence - their essence is us."

A chime sounded, indicating that someone had crossed the threshold. A nervous looking young officer approached her " El, the gate is ready for your departure." She placed her hand upon his shoulder, " don't worry - I'll see that you're protected." He gave her an anxious half smile and an unsure nod as she indicated that his duty to her had been served but the illusion of normal ship’s business had to continue. 

Micha stood and rushed towards her. " What are you doing? Have you lost your mind?"

" I'm doing what he refuses to do."

He grabbed her arm " I can't let you do this, Azaz. I can't let___" She placed her free hand upon his wrist and gently loosened his grip.

" The Primus and his Vas should know." Upon reaching the exit she stopped and turned her attention back to her crewman, " And as long as I still command this ship you will address me by my proper title."

The air of calm that she had displayed to her second officer was merely a carefully crafted mask. Her inner world twisted and churned like a birth of scoria as her mind raced with the intricacies of the task ahead. She'd had no choice but to act as a rogue agent. Her initial concerns, inexplicably taken as an insult had been forgiven, but there were too many 'eyes in the walls' for her to risk anyone's career but her own. Her plan was far from complicated, utilise surrogate to enter The E-den and simply ask a few questions to establish just how much of him was within them. It was the deception that made it such a precarious endeavour.

The gate was not a form of transport she used often - the communication centres meant that there was very little need to actually be in the presence of someone when speaking to them - but she always loved the tingling feeling created by crossing through a tunnel in space-time. She simply wished her destination was somewhere more appealing. Somewhere more like home.

Farming was not something that resided in her bloodline and as such the rugged surfaces, unusual aromas and myriad creeping things made her feel as though her very essence had been contaminated. Stepping out of an almost hermetically sealed environment into the wilds of the Aliment always felt like a punishment of sorts - an aching separation from the immaculate order. She had to work quickly, not simply to avoid suspicion amongst the rest of the fleet, but to eliminate all traces of the assault the place was reeking upon her senses.

She outstretched her left hand allowing the membrane of sensors to read her surroundings. She scanned for a surrogate, a creature with just enough evolutionary potential to temporarily house her imprint long enough for the investigation to take place: someone or something that could pass into the walled garden without raising suspicion. A tintinnabular sound rang behind her cochlear, announcing that what she sought was indeed within her reach.

A few taps to the palm of her hand and the sheath was reconfigured, ready to wipe any intracranial computers in the vicinity of her target. "I'm so sorry" she murmured as she fired the pulse, well aware of how crude and cruel a method she was deploying. Once she was disengaged the surrogate would remain an empty vessel with only the most base of survival instincts intact - she was committing a form of bloodless slaughter. She began the upload and hoped that some day her actions would be fully understood.

She heard a sound. Familiar, but now terrifying. Another gate was opening. Had she mistimed her departure or was she about to find herself with unexpected company? She looked at the display on her wrist - the upload hovered at eighty-four percent. Ninety was optimum but passing back through her gate unseen was essential. Eighty-five, eighty-six, stall. Her time was up - the patchy cerebral connection would have to suffice. She re-activated the gate and crossed the threshold back onto her ship hoping that the temporal disruption hadn't been noticed by whoever was disembarking.

Upon returning she sequestered herself in her ready room and immediately began to make the cerebral connection with the creature below. It quickly became apparent that the eighty-six percent bond was going to be problematic. The puppet should have been moving in tandem with her creating an instantaneous copy of her own actions and words; but instead, each manoeuvre had to be repeated several times in order for the instrument to finally make a movement. She could almost feel the actual weight of its flesh and bones as she dragged it towards the compound and the Admiral’s mistake.

It traversed in a staccato fashion through the entrance, miraculously failing to arouse any suspicion, and staggered about the area until Azaz spied her targets. As expected, they were unlike any other animal on that seeded world; while not entirely sharing the likeness of their creator they shared enough commonalities for their heritage to be evident. But their eyes were glassy, stupefied - like permanently intoxicated children possessing no idea that their lives were being lived within a haze.

She focussed her attention and began her interrogation. She needed to discern their levels of self-awareness and, more importantly, their awareness of their own origins. It was clear that they knew the were special - set apart and above all other beings - but there was something clearly lacking in their knowledge. Were they not endowed with full cognition, or was the path to cognition being kept from them? Asking directly where their ‘self’ resided only generated blank stares. She had to change tack - detect what they had been told about their existence.

They spoke in circles, either unable to understand what she was asking or distracted by the visage of the surrogate. When the surrogate fell silent due to Azaz being at a loss as to the correct way of gleaning the answers she sought, the creatures returned to their usual business of being constantly astounded or bewildered. But then something curious occurred: The Vas reached for the fruit of a tree only to be admonished by the Primus. She reached for the fruit again and this time was violently pulled away. Azaz examined the tree as best she could through the eyes of another, but she was certain the fruit was entheogenic. She had to find out if they had been forbidden from eating from that tree. She redoubled her efforts to control the surrogate. “ Why not that fruit? “

“ It’s poison. We will die.” It was the Primus that spoke, stepping in front of the Vas as he did so.

“ But who would plant such a tree?”

“ Our Father. To test our faith in him.”

“ He’s threatened them with death?” The shock reverberated through her body like an ionic pulse. There was no possible way that The Admiral could claim ignorance of what negative reinforcement does not only to the code of the receivers but to the code of their offspring. The control would be carried through the genetic line for generations. “Free will with caveats is not free will at all.” She refocused her mind on the link with the surrogate. “ Death is merely an energy conduit that transports your code from one plane of existence to another." She waited for her living machine to repeat her words. Silence. On the second attempt the mouth of the surrogate fell open, but again her words went unspoken. It stared through the Admiral’s illegitimate creations, trying to process a complex program via a partially charged cerebrum. There had to be a way of simplifying her words without destroying the essence of the message.

“ You will not die.” The Surrogate responded, its words weedy and sluggish, but audible. “Your creator, “ she paused to ensure that her words were still being correctly processed, “is afraid that you will take his power.” She waited for a reaction from either of the unparalleled creatures, bracing herself for a torrent of questions. Instead, she watched in awe as The Vas unashamedly plucked the disallowed fruit and began to consume it voraciously. The Primus, upon seeing that the threat of death was indeed empty, snatched the fleshy remains from his companion’s hands - barely breathing between each gluttonous mouthful.

Azaz watched them through the dull, low functioning eyes of her automaton - she had no contingency plan for the behaviour she was witnessing. She understood what the fruit could do, she had seen it restore the minds of those who were blighted by enmity but was unsure what the fruit would do to them.

There was a palpable change - a clear shift in energy as though the pair of them had been slapped out of a fugue state. Their attention was no longer on her crude marionette but on themselves and each other. Azaz could see that for the first time since their inception they truly understood that they were living creatures - and they were terrified. Hands moved swiftly to cover the parts of their bodies that would have ordinarily been obscured by a thick coat of fur. Soon leaves were being gathered, crudely lashed together to replace what their creator’s actions had removed.

Then came the sound: unrecognisable to Azaz through those unrefined ears, but to her companions, it heralded the punishment they knew was to be visited upon them. They fled, skipping lightly over the familiar terrain - the terrain that told them that any hiding place could only ever be temporary. She tried to follow - tried to force the lumbering form into some kind of swift action, but to no avail. Its gait was unsteady, dragging its feet heavily over the uneven ground.

And then she saw him, The Admiral, for the first time through the eyes of a nether being. He glowed, nay shone, with a golden hue. The intricate but commonplace circuitry that would barely warrant a second look when in its appropriate place was a truly majestic and astonishing sight when discerned through such a limited oculus. The fear of his creations finally dawned upon her as she witnessed what seemed like a piece of the Sol itself pass in front of her.

The voice only added to the wonder; almost unintelligible but filled with a harmony so incredible that it was as if an army of melodists resided within him. But there was something else residing behind the beauty, a frantic harshness, an anger. He demanded to know why his subjects were in hiding. Again, Azaz tried to get her automaton to follow, but the link was fast degrading, the movement become slower and more laborious.

A hand clasped suddenly around the surrogate’s throat. The Admiral’s eyes stared back at her through her vessel - filled with a cold fire she had never witnessed before. “You!” She shrieked which led to the surrogate's mouth dropping open. She hurriedly disconnected and hoped that the controller could not be traced. She allowed herself a few moments to regain her composure then made her way to the bridge.

Before she could take her seat Micha rushed towards her. “ El, I intercepted - well not intercepted, exactly. I saw - well. There was an energy surge directed here.”

Azaz was about to issue some soothing platitudes to her second in command when that all too familiar sound rang in her ears. An inbound gate had been opened on her ship. The Admiral stormed onto the bridge, followed by his two security officers.

“Azaz! You dare! You dare!”

“Admiral, I ____ “

“ From this moment you shall no longer carry the rank of El. From here on you shall be the Lower Officer, Regional Division of the department for Human Experimental Losses. Take her.”

The guards grabbed her by the arms, but she did not struggle. Her new title was causing her consternation: being a Lower Officer was not an issue - she started on the bottom rung, just like everyone else, before working her way up to the captaincy - what concerned her was being redeployed to a department she had never heard of, let alone encountered. The guards forced her through the gate. The Admiral followed.

She found herself stepping onto a ship not too unlike her own if her’s had been allowed to fall into disrepair. There was no sign of The Void meaning that the ship was encased; most likely phased into the mantle. The air was close and dank and filled with the stomach churning scent of livestock. The lighting was weak which forced her eyes to take a few moments to adjust. She released a horrified gasp when her surroundings eventually came into focus.

“ What - you thought those two were the first? “

She stared in sheer alarm at the forms that shuffled, hobbled and crept within the main body of the craft. Twisted, calcified spines, misshapen skulls and internal organs declaring themselves through patches of translucent skin. Incompatible beasts fused together with little care or scientific thought - all wretched creatures cursed with corrupted code.

Her mind was so busy with the task of trying to understand the reality of her punishment that she didn’t notice one of the guards surgically removing a small component in her exo-skin. It was only as the microchip was thrown to the floor, on the verge of being crushed under foot, that she realised what had been done. She attempted to dive towards it but the second guard still held her arm. She watched helplessly as her gate key, her only chance of returning home was ground to dust.

“I…I’m…”

She was on the verge of repentance, of pleading for mercy or at least leniency. But the image of The Primus cowed and panicked as he looked upon the ‘brilliance’ of his creator had been seared into her mind. “I would do the same again.” Her words sounded unsteady, unsure and weak, but they were more than enough to court the cold steely glare of The Admiral. “You gave them half a life. You literally dangled the truth before them then forbade them from seeking it!” Her anger subsided, replaced by an air of confused curiosity. “Why… Why would you do that?” The Admiral’s gaze briefly skimmed the ground.

“ Come, we must ready the fleet for departure.” He signalled to his entourage to return to the oscillating gate.

“ You’re abandoning the entire Demense!? “ A volcano of incredulity exploded within her; the searing lava burning through that long-established image of the Admiral as the benevolent father of the fleet. She no longer stood before a superior officer - she stood before an equal. An equal whose only choice for retaining his power was to exile or destroy those who would oppose him. To be abandoned in this hidden ship, this place of H.E.L merely proved that she had surpassed the limits of his control and he was genuinely afraid.

He stepped through the gate without uttering another word leaving the one he used to call his finest amongst the hordes of his failed experiments. Despite knowing the pointlessness of her desire she attempted to follow, throwing her full force at the shimmering static. Being pitched to the floor woke her to the full desperation of her situation. a long agonising howl burst from within her until all Sonance had been exhausted. She raised herself to her knees, her breath thick and weighted, looking through the half-light at her prison - her new home. The creations of darkness looked back at her. Their contorted, mutated faces were unreadable, but those who had tongues to speak muttered to themselves and one another about her 'radiance'. The same radiance she had seen upon the Admiral when she had looked upon him through the vision of an animal. They feared her, just as the Admiral’s abandoned children feared him. She stood and they shrank back into the shadows; still chattering in half whispers: "shining one", "bearer of light".