It is listening, even if it gives no indication. Now, I look upon this beautiful creature, my creator, my origin.
‘Those memories of her,’ I begin. ‘Those were drawn from my mind.’
It rumbles in agreement.
‘My mind. Those memories are not yours.’
It raises its head, a silent challenge. Prove it.
‘You could never understand sentiment.’ It sounds cruel, but— ‘Is that not why you dreamed me into existence? A vessel for everything you could not hope to understand. Your memories might be perfect, but they could never make anyone—make me—feel like that.’
It doesn’t respond.
‘I am here to ask for them back,’ I say. I angle myself so that I can see the door. ‘My memories of her. I do apologise for last time—this is something we can negotiate, is it not?’
It tilts its head towards the door, claws clicking on the floor.
‘You knew when you dreamed about me. Your memories of her—everyone else you knew—deserve a fitting shrine. I cannot die, nor can I forget.’ It is still looking at the door, a growl building in its throat. ‘Why neglect my intended purpose?’
It drops to the ground with surprising grace, uncoiling to its full size so that its body fills half the room, blocking out the light. It growls in warning this time. It knows, then. There is no hiding from it in its own realm.
‘I intend to reclaim those memories. Trust me, Morax, there is no need for this to end in bloodshed.’
It rises, its antler shattering the ceiling light and plunging us into darkness. I barely have time to call out before it pounces.
The claws scrape my cheek, and then the dream collapses.
~~~
I am drowning.
Water embraces me; burning hot, as if it is trying to imitate warmth. I cannot struggle, not when my flesh is burned to the bone. Great flaws encircle me, dragging me upwards, and—
I reach the surface, gasping, as I am deposited on dry land. I force my eyelids open and look down. Not damaged at all, apart from the shaking hands. Not even a bit wet.
A low rumble sounds from behind me. There it is, Morax, its eyes opened at last. Bright gold flecks shift in and out of its irises, forming scaled patterns, then falling leaves, then nothing. It closes its eyes, bowing its head.
I force myself to my feet.
I am on an island, in the middle of an ink-dark sea. The sky is blue, though the shade feels off, as if a pale imitation of a sunny sky. Sickly, I think to myself.
There is light, but no sun. Only the same pale blue glow that shadows us, glints off of Morax’s scales. I feel the sudden urge to shield my eyes from it, but I persist.
In the distance, I see it.
Emerging out of the water, stars speckling it’s dark hide, is a leviathan. Streaming behind it are fully formed wings, stars tucked into their folds as they open and close, driving the creature through the water. I watch the water in front of me ripple as it swims closer, the tip of its fins barely skimming the surface.
I turn to look at Morax. It is looking at me again with those eyes, now discs of bright gold, empty of any other detail. What does it mean?
Morax huffs, uncoils itself to its full, magnificent size, a full hundred metres of scales and legs and glittering gold. Now facing the water, it clicks its legs and waits.
The ripples are getting closer.
Morax turns to me. I cannot read its intent, but there is finality in the way it lunges forward, plunges into the water headfirst.
Its tail disappears beneath the waves. I shiver, despite this place not being the least bit cold.
I find myself looking into the distant sky. The blue is slowly fading, azure to grey to orange, then finally, red. Shadows begin to crawl on the ground, and it takes me a while to realise that they are mine.
Then the ocean erupts with stars.
I shield my eyes from the blaze, adjusting them to a squint to see. The ocean is fully illuminated, stars pulsing and dying in its depths, and in the distance, directly beneath my feet, two shadows grapple and snap at each other.
Morax is easily recognisable, the gold of its scales glittering as stars bounce off its hide before fizzling into nothingness. No matter, with how quickly they are being replaced, flying off the other beast’s wings as it twists and turns in the water, graceful in its element.
It’s hard to tell what colour the beast’s flesh is, shrouded in the radiance of stars. I can barely make out the rest of its body, hidden beneath gigantic gossamer wings. Beneath an almost humanoid torso, with long arms that grab and pull and break, is a long trail of its body, if flesh could be so silk-like in its consistency. It is only when I see the specks of light, swirling endlessly within that cavity as if it is its own galaxy, that I realise the stars are not attached to its body. They are inside, their blazing heat burning through that silk-like skin only to find the depthless ocean.
I step back from the edge of the water, fighting a wave of vertigo.
Was this what he meant, when he said he had yet to reach his ‘perfect’ form? Is this the end goal for him, then? A devourer of the stars that border the dreams?
A fresh wave of dizziness hits me. I lower myself to the ground and curl up. It is so, so cold.
Something drops next to my head.
I turn. Barely conscious, its legs still twitching, is Morax, looking smaller than I had ever known it to be. Its scales are missing in various places, replaced by glittering starlight. It opens its ruined eyes and stares straight at me. I have half a mind to crawl away, avoid its retribution when I still can. But something stops me.
Resentment would be easy. Hatred even more so. But as it extends a twisted, broken claw towards me, I understand what it feels more than ever. How could I not? When it is so familiar, so dear to my very self.
Regret. I understand, and my head feels heavy.
‘You cannot die in any way that matters,’ I feel myself say. My tongue does not feel like my own. ‘When you drift through the sea of stars, what is the point of keeping those memories?’
Morax stares at me. I realise a good amount of its body below the head is gone, clumsily tied together with its tail half. All here.
‘Let me give them new life. Let me bring them into the waking world.’
It doesn’t make a single sound. It is then that I notice its jaw, hanging on by the remains of its hinge. Lodged in between its teeth is a piece of white cloth, riddled with burn marks and holes, but still in one piece. It seems to tilt its head, allowing its jaw to hang open. I reach out, feeling its teeth barely graze my arm.
The cloth is still soft, still light. Still warm, like her. I lift myself up on my elbows, allowing my hand to close around it.
Morax’s eye glints, and I can barely hear my scream as his jaw snaps shut.
‘Why do you—’ I pull and pull, my fingers still clenched tight around the cloth. I feel the teeth lodge themselves into bone, but there is no pain, not beneath the steel. ‘Isn’t this why you dreamt me up?’ I feel tendons rip, flesh split open as I drag my arm out of its jaw. ‘To hold all your misery for you?’
It bites down harder. I feel several fingers snap as I finally free the cloth, now torn to bits, but no matter. Not looking back, I use my other arm to drag myself further up the island.
Morax watches, bits of red hanging from its teeth.
‘It’s too late for that, isn’t it?’ I say. ‘You created me. I am your memories, your very regret, taken form. Did you expect me to be docile?’
The cloth is stained red, entangled with what remains of my arm. I grit my teeth and use the last of my strength to turn back, look directly into its eyes.
‘I am just your reflection, Morax. And I am only as greedy as you are.’
Black spots dance before my eyes. I should be safe soon, when I lose consciousness in this realm.
On the other side of the island, a slight figure struggles onto the shore. I recognise the shock of ginger, the familiar gait. He’s injured, I realise.
He lurches forward onto the sand, shards of white tearing through his too-thin skin. There is no blood, not even when he lifts his head, his chin held in place by a rib piercing through his chest.
He shudders, then goes still.
I may have called out for him. The only thing I remember is the snap of jaws around my chest, the crunch of bone, then blissful silence.
~~~
I wake up in my living room, slumped onto my couch, phantom pains stabbing through my arm, my ribs. I forfeit the moment of rest and stand up, fighting against the piercing pain in my head.
Curled up on the ground, hands gripping the legs of his coffee table like a lifeline, Childe rests, his breathing fast and shallow. I feel my knees bruise when I drop down next to him, peeling his hands from the table legs and resting his head on my lap.
‘Childe. Wake up.’
He takes one final, desperate breath before his eyes open. I am not hallucinating, I know. Stars shine in the depths of blue, blotting out his pupils, before fizzling out, replaced by an unnerving stillness. His breathing is steady again, moments after he had left the dream like that.
‘Did I do it?’ The rasp almost overshadows his next words. ‘Did you get your…’
‘Rest first,’ I tell him. His pupils are blown wide open, his gaze fixed on something distant. I did not imagine it, then, the note of excitement in his voice. ‘I saw you die.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about me. If you really want to do me a favour, —’ He pushes aside my hand and sits up, cross-legged and facing me. I fight the urge to steady his shaking shoulders, half expecting spurs of bone to start piercing through that almost-transparent skin. ‘I want you to explain what exactly you are, Mr. Zhongli.’
term exam soon wish me luck