Beyond the Rim – Installment 4

The ascended Corsinial stood on the void, floating in space between the stars. The moon swirled near her, making no wind as it passed by. The sun was still distant, bathing the emptiness in its cold brightness. Corsinial had abandoned her form, unable to contain herself within the old body in which she had been since she was made. Now a shapeless blaze, she radiated beauty through space, from the ground of Earth appearing to be like a moon herself, a pale blue luminescence floating where no thing that needed to breathe had ever passed.
She awaited his presence. He had agreed to come. Corsinial balanced her mind within herself as his astral form approached from around the edge of the earth; she had to calm her frenzy. No One would know.
“I am come, Corsinial, and you have done as you promised. First God is dead.”
“Good, Meldus,” Corsinial chimed, her two words forming a tiny song. “If First God is dead, we may each make our own way.”
“Yes, Corsinial. You may sing of whatever you like, the smith may forge as he chooses, and the storm god may strike what he will. Every god may do whatever he or she desires.”
Corsinial feigned ignorance, “Every god? What of the humans? Shall we even tell them that First God has died?”
No One turned his attention more closely to Corsinial. “They must know by now. The magic as they knew it has died.” His form began to swell in size, rainbows of light twisting about him, struggling to escape his grasp. “Their temples are empty now; his glory has departed them. They are lost, knowing not what to do.” His voice rang in volume with the Last Words.
“Shall we announce to them that they may do as they please now?”
No One looked back towards the earth. “I think not.”
Corsinial did not shake her form at all, remaining a placid storm of beauty excarnate.
No One twisted about, “Just as you were made to sing songs, to proclaim and exude beauty, I was made for something, Corsinial.” A shrill green began to twist about No One’s radiance. “You were made to sing, and I was made to lead.”
Corsinial said, “You wish to lead the humans?”
No One flashed in brightness, a green core of solid brightness visible within the rainbow that nearly escaped his grasp before he roped the lights back in. “Yes. At last, I am free to lead whatever I wish.” He lurched towards earth, but a soft projection, like a hand, emanated from Corsinial, and recalled his attention. “You wish to go one doing as you have done? Leading?”
No One cried, “Yes!” and the red of his rainbow was lost, screaming into space, away towards the sun. He moved to drop to earth, but was held back again.
“I wanted to thank you for teaching me a new song, No One.”
“Thanks enough! I must go!” an orange beam strayed from No One’s grasp.
“I wanted to show you what I have learned.”
No One tugged at the arm that slowly encircled him. “Show me another time. I must go.”
“I realized something you had hidden from me, No One.”
No One heaved against her restraint, heedless of her words, as a yellow band dropped from him, descending below the earth, into the starry clouds below.
“I have not yet sung my own song, No One.”
No One froze, and a violet strand snapped, disintegrating into shadow. He pushed lightly on the arm that had now encircled him. “In the cave, Corsinial, I heard you sing. And I heard you sing as you came to the Temple of First God. I have heard your own song, Corisinial, the song that First God did not want.”
Corsinial’s blue hue deepened. “You heard a different song than I had ever sung, but you have not heard my own.”
No One’s indigo band cracked and split, fraying into ends too fine to see.
“I was singing your song, No One. Now I sing my own.”
No One leaped up to escape her arms, but was caught. The blue ring that last encased his core vanished with a flash, and he was left, a glowing green gem surrounded by dark, shapeless, emanations.
Corsinial lurched towards the moon, dragging No One with her. She knew, though she had never seen and never been told, that to fight one of her own kind, they must be reduced to a physical form. No One screamed and clawed, imitating every fierce thing in creation, and with every scratch Corsinial shed ever more of her blue, leaving only the dark traces behind.
The moon shuddered with the impact of the gods, and in its strength of heaviness they both were forced into form again, Corsinial shaped like a human woman, but giant, clad in her natural beauty. No One likewise tumbled along the ground across the smooth grey stone, at last standing still as a tall man. He shouted, “You fool! You have no xerphyn here!” No One reached within his shape and pulled out a metal band, like a square with round corners. “I knew a god would come against me, and if not blinded by ambition, I would have realized your betrayal the sooner. Now, Corsinial, kneel and let me be your master, or it will be your form that never leaves this sphere.”
Corsinial dropped to to the ground with a melodic sob, stuttering an apology. No One approached, saying, “Remember your place, Corsinial. You were made to be beautiful.”
Corsinial pounced from her position and tackled No One to the ground, stealing the metal from his hand. “I was not made for anything, pawn! I am Cyllgod, and I will follow no one’s song. Not First God’s, and not yours!” She swung her arm full circle, bringing the metal ring directly to No One’s face. With an exploding ring and a crack the metal made contact.
“No, Corsinial! We must each have our way. I must rule, and you must sing.”
“Then who makes himself a master now, Meldus? There is no master.”
She struck him again, his squirming protest subsiding. “There is always a master, Corsinial.”
“Corsinial knew a master. I am Cyllgod now.” Then she swung her arm one more time, and the metal crashed through No One’s form, and he ceased his moving. The glow in his green core ceased, and the darkness that had given him a body lay, deflated and flat, upon the surface of the Moon.
Cyllgod stood and sang a single note in triumph, then leaped off the dusty ground, radiating a mighty cloud as she launched through space towards Earth again, a dark comet with a single bolt of pale blue wriggling in her wake.


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