She snatched her hand back, staring at it. The slime was gone from her own skin. In its place... flesh. Pale, smooth, and shockingly human. Yet, an unnatural chill radiated from it, a deep, grave-cold that no living warmth could touch. She raised a trembling hand to her face, tracing the curve of a cheekbone, the bridge of a nose that felt both alien and intimate. Restored. Yet, the hollow stillness in her chest, the utter lack of a rising breath, was a constant, silent reminder of the lie.
Bazren: "X-xayn... Xayn!"
She crawled the final distance to his still form, shaking him by the shoulder. He remained motionless. Her gaze swept across the chaotic study, landing on a tarnished silver platter lying amidst a pile of fallen books. Scrabbling for it, she held its reflective surface up to her face.
A stranger stared back. A young woman, perhaps in her late twenties, with a face that was symmetrical, unremarkable, and utterly not her own. It was a convincing shell, but it was hollow. And staring out from that stranger's face were her eyes. Her real eyes. The impossible pink glow, the irises shaped into the cardinal points of a wind rose. A flaw in the otherwise perfect disguise. An eternal brand.
Some things, it seemed, could never be hidden. This was, however, undoubtedly a close second.
A low groan from beside her. Xayn was stirring. The last of the void-stuff absorbed into his form, revealing his new body underneath. He pushed himself up slowly, his movements stiff, uncertain.
Bazren didn't speak. She simply rose, approached him with a slow, deliberate grace, and held the silver platter up to his face.
Bazren: "Look up."
His head lifted. The cyan enso of his irises pulsed faintly as they focused on the reflection. They widened. The face looking back at him was not the gaunt, skeletal visage of a centuries-old corpse. It was a man in his thirties, features framed by a thick, dark beard and a fall of long hair. No hollow cheeks, no protruding bone. Only life. A stolen life.
Xayn: "W-what... did she do...?"
Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.
His voice was a haunted whisper. He reached up, his new, fleshy fingers touching the beard, the skin of his cheek, with a sense of profound dread.
Xayn: "... Whose skin is this...?"
Bazren lowered the platter, revealing her own new face behind it. His horrified gaze shifted to her.
Xayn: "And you, too... Just whose identity did we steal, Bazren?!"
A faint, dismissive smile touched her lips, a quick exhalation of amusement through her nose.
Bazren: "Does it matter? Maybe these are someone else's faces. Maybe they are no more than an amalgamation of several persons' features... Whatever the case may be, they're gone now. But we still remain."
She clenched her new hands into tight fists, a surge of predatory excitement running through her. Her nails, sharp and unfamiliar, bit deep into the soft skin of her palms. A bead of blood, shockingly red and vivid, welled up and trickled down her wrist. She stared at it, fascinated.
Bazren: "This is exactly what we needed. Now, we can venture into this world unimpeded by our own image...!"
Xayn struggled to his feet, his concerned expression a stark contrast to her exhilaration.
Xayn: "Can we...? How do we know this flesh won't betray us? What if this is merely temporary? What if, when we least expect it, our guise peels away as agonizingly as it grafted onto our bones, revealing the truth beneath?!"
With a sharp, fluid motion, Bazren swung the platter. It connected with his face with a solid, metallic crunch.
Bazren: "SHUT UP! Do you always have to worry so much about everything!?"
Xayn staggered back, a hand flying to his face. Dark, rich blood, impossibly vital, gushed from his nose, dripping onto the stone floor. He stared at her, stunned.
Bazren: "One thing at a time. We needed disguises; we have them. Next on the agenda is freeing them... The hard part begins now."
Xayn wiped the blood from his lips with the back of his hand, his cyan eyes hardening.
Xayn: "Careful. Don't start worrying too much about it."
His tone was drenched in sarcasm. Her pink eyes flared.
Bazren: "I still have the platter."
A faint smile touched his lips, the tension breaking.
Xayn: "I jest... But I concede."
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Xayn forced himself to find an anchor in the swirling chaos of the last few moments. He pressed his palms against his temples, his thoughts racing.
Xayn: "Priorities. We must have... priorities."
He lowered his hands, his cyan gaze sweeping over their new forms, then around the ravaged study.
Xayn: "We came into this world with a single instruction, a solitary lead... The Eluvian Ocean. Now... now that we have a more lively appearance, finding someone who knows of it should prove easier. That is our next step."
His focus sharpened, trying to piece together the scene. The air was thick with the scent of ozone and something coppery. Shattered glass from the windows littered the floor. And there was an unnerving emptiness where the tower's Master had stood.
Xayn: "... Whatever happened here? Where is Mola's master?"
A low, predatory chuckle escaped Bazren's lips.
Bazren: "Gone. Utterly consumed... You missed quite the show."
Her voice was thick with satisfaction. She gave a sharp nod towards the corner of the room, where Mola's body lay crumpled and unconscious.
Bazren: "If the Master had any answers for us, well... let's just say I doubt they can compete with whatever knowledge *she* might have."
Xayn stared, his brow furrowing in confusion.
Xayn: "... W-wait, Mola? What, are you saying she singlehandedly defeated her own master?"
Bazren: "No, my dear..."
She purred, the sound full of condescending pity.
Bazren: "It seems she, much as we, had a little *help*. From someone we used to know."
She took a step closer, her pink eyes locking onto his.
Bazren: "That voice. The one that spoke in our minds as we were being... remade. You heard it, didn't you?"
Xayn gave a single, wary nod, the memory a fresh scar on his consciousness.
Bazren: "I couldn't place it at the time..."
She admitted, crossing her arms.
Bazren: "... But, our little host over there was kind enough to give us a name. Just as she collapsed, she mouthed it."
Her expression was one of supreme, triumphant confidence.
Bazren: "It seems we'll get our information on the Eluvian Ocean from the mouth of Tentoria herself."