Salvation

by voroshilov

Leviathan

The creature did not so much stir as it did lunge forwards, the two alicorns immediately fleeing, only to be wrapped in a pair of tumorous tentacles, which both looked and smelled rotten, and dragged to just beyond the mouth of the cave. The creature slowly clambered out, pulled by hundreds of different implements from more tentacles, to legs and arms, to wings and tails - to other various implements that could only be described as something other than the previously listed. Its flesh, grey and pulsing with green, was covered almost entirely in tumours, or apparently randomly placed organs such as more eyes to giant, misshapen mouths containing hundreds of serrated yellow teeth.

The thing was hundreds of metres long, at least, with what appeared to be a long, snake-like tail that coiled and slithered slowly in the darkness. Penumbra thought she caught a glimpse of a scorpion’s stinger, though about the size of a house, before it vanished into the darkness. Several of its mouths, which were either randomly scattered or formed larger structures as though they had been stitched together by an amateur who had never seen a living creature before, expelled rivers of mist, which formed a slightly raised puddle around the bottom of its form. Some of the eyes looked to Penumbra and Ablazed Glory, the others darted about randomly, with others having their veins burst suddenly and slowly closing, eyelids often containing an extra mouth or two.

Slowly, the two alicorns were raised to what was apparently the creature’s head, which almost looked like another body entirely. It was of the same amorphous, random looking, blob shape as the body, though with two dozen tentacles forming a perverted version of whiskers on either side of its front. Though it had the odd mouth, tumour or eye scattered about, it did seem to have a primary face. It had five major eyes, each around ten metres in diameter, sclera a clean white, with no visible veins, irises dark green and with vertical slits for pupils, bordered with a thin line of crimson, arranged in a pyramid shape in its upper front centre, with a mouth around eighty metres wide below, no lips to speak of, but mouth shaped and containing row upon row of thousands of dagger-like teeth, glistering white.

“Welcome,” a voice, thunderous and booming, emerged from the creature’s throat, “I have not had visitors in so long,” it spoke slowly, every syllable echoing, “I am sorry for startling you, I really ought to leave something prepared for guests, so that I can make proper introductions.”

The two alicorns were completely taken aback, having fully expected to be eaten or whatever it was that the creature did to things such as them. Ablazed Glory stuttered slightly as the creature lowered them to the ground of the cave, its immense mass shifting backwards to create a space for them to sit.

“I am afraid I cannot offer much in the way of traditional hospitality,” the creature boomed, “my stocks of tea and biscuits have been run dry, I hope it is of no concern.”

“If we’re honest,” Penumbra said, finding that rather than try and confront the situation rationally she’d just ignore it and pretend it hadn’t happened, “we thought we’d be tea and biscuits for you.”

The creature seemed shocked. “Oh, goodness, no. I would not even think of doing such a thing, though I can tell precisely why you would think as such. My appearance is more than worrying to your eyes, I can only imagine.” The creature sounded so strangely jolly, like a happy grandfather - was Penumbra’s most accurate description.

Penumbra rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly, disappointed in herself by comparison to how courteous the creature was being. “It’s not your fault,” she spluttered, unsure of precisely how to deal with the unique situation laid before her, “we were just too judging is all.”

“It is quite alright.” The creature’s voice echoed for what seemed like miles behind it. “My manners have been quite lacking recently, I have been sleeping for a good few centuries now. Speaking of manners, I am Leviathan, may I inquire as to your titles?”

It was Ablazed Glory who spoke next, apparently on auto-pilot. “Ablazed Glory, Burning Duchess, pleasure to meet you, madam.” She held out a talon, with Leviathan taking it in a smaller tentacle and shaking it calmly.

“A most noble pleasure, Ablazed Glory, Burning Duchess. Though, I must state from the beginning I am a sir, I would not want to cause any confusion or discomfort.”

“Penumbra,” Penumbra said, holding out a talon, which Leviathan took in a tentacle and shook just as he had for Ablazed Glory.

“Ah,” Leviathan exclaimed, with a sound easily confused with a hurricane force wind, “yes, I had heard of you from Nicholas. He was very proud of you, you know, in fact, I am certain he still is. It is a shame I cannot take better care of you, it is what he would have wanted. Alas, what little I have will have to do for now.” Leviathan’s body shifted backwards again, his head coming forwards as the rest of him sunk into the darkness. “So much was lost when he left us, much of the great Citadel sunk into the earth. Entropy’s Pinnacle came bursting like a sore into the material universe.”

As Ablazed Glory relaxed herself, Penumbra tried her best to engage Leviathan. “What is this place?” She asked, “Is it a part of Nicholas’ Throne World?”

Leviathan exhaled, with a rush of air that blew back the two alicorns. “No, it is not. This is Entropy’s Pinnacle,” he said, “the realm of Nicholas, The Composer. Or, at least, it was. He has left us now, along with both of his brothers, and with him has gone much of his Citadel and the energies that once gave this place its power.”

“The Composer?” Ablazed Glory asked, apparently now calmed from her previous shock, “is that one of the Emperor’s titles?”

Leviathan chuckled - at least, Penumbra hoped that the rumble that came from his form was a chuckle. “I suppose that could be said. Emperor Nicholas’ history is a long and storied one, too long for me to tell it in full. But, millennia ago, he descended into the Rift, which had, over time, evolved into a realm for daemons and other malign entities to call their home. The king of the Rift was a daemon called Luysifer, who was the first of their species to be ‘born’, if such a word could be used to describe his beginning. The young Emperor challenged Luysifer and slew him, with the daemon king’s blood and soul power fusing into the obsidian of his throne, which the Emperor fashioned into a crown that he could use to grant himself strength beyond any creature in the omniverse.”

Leviathan fell silent for a moment, as if reflecting. Penumbra, although an amateur judge of the emotions of surprisingly polite and courteous eldritch horrors, believed that he seemed almost sad; before what could be constituted as a smile crossed his mighty main maw.

“Not only had he the strength of Luysifer, of himself and the Darkness, but the strength of the other daemons of the Rift, who had been slaughtered by his Black Guard, their blood pooled before him and offered as tribute. His singular form could not hold all of this strength, however, so he used his immense knowledge of the arcane to split himself into three parts. One, which bore the power of the Darkness, the strongest of the three, became Nicholas, the Everlasting, who ruled from his Throne World but could enter your material realm any time he pleased. Another, which bore his psionic power, the weakest of the three, became Nicholas, Emperor of Sorrows, who ruled from the Heart of Sorrow. The final became Nicholas, The Composer, bearing the power of Luysifer and of the daemons of the Rift.” Leviathan paused again, again in reflection. “And from the blood offered to him as tribute, he birthed me - a loyal sentinel.”

There was a moment of silence, before Ablazed Glory, sat on her haunches, spoke up, “you came from Nicholas as well?”

Half of Leviathan’s eyes shifted to her. “Indeed, though I believe under different circumstances to yourself. You bear the mark of the Emperor’s power, though also of another progenitor, a more ancient line than he.”

Ablazed Glory nodded, running a claw over the precious, pulsing soul jar on her breastplate. “This is my genetic father’s soul, which the Emperor took from him when I was very young.”

“And yet, you feel no pain for his death?”

She shook her head. “I never knew him. Besides, it’s better for him like this, he’s safer.”

Leviathan rumbled, in what Penumbra assumed to be agreement. “The material can be cruel,” he said, as thoughtful as a giant, bellowing creature like himself could sound, “sometimes what can be interpreted by some as a malice can really be a kindness.”

Ablazed Glory hummed softly, slowly circling the soul jar with a claw, apparently content - or at least preoccupied - in her mind.

“Tell me more about The Composer,” Penumbra said, which Leviathan was apparently eager to do by his reaction, “I want to know everything about him. In fact, I believe I’ve met him.”

Leviathan chuckled again. “I believe you may have done, yes. He spoke of you in a way he would only do once he had met someone first-hand. I had seen one similar to you in the Citadel, during the War in Heaven, though I cannot remember her name.”

“Celestia,” Penumbra suggested, though her suspicions had already been confirmed beyond all reasonable doubt.

Leviathan thought for a moment. “Ah, yes, I believe so. Forgive me, my memory may be hazy but that name is certainly one I have heard before. Regardless, I can tell you much of The Composer, as well as his brothers. Ah, but where to begin?”

Leviathan paused again in thought, his whisker like tentacles flexing back and forth in perfect sync. “Hmm, yes. I remember him from the moment I was born. The Emperor of Sorrows had been the future, The Everlasting the past, but The Composer was the embodiment of the permanent present. Even in those early days his form would shift and change every second, nothing of him remained exactly the same. His arm would become a wing, his leg an arm, his eye a mouth and his nose an eye. From the power of his will he created Entropy’s Pinnacle, constructing its grand Citadel as a city that would forever be a perfect present. He gave to me the mists, which back then reached far taller than they do now, as well as this great mountain to call my own.”

Leviathan spoke for hours of The Composer, detailing his powers, those of the corruption, and the story of the growth of Entropy’s Pinnacle. He told Penumbra and Ablazed Glory of The Composer’s great gifts, such as those bestowed upon Celestia in the past. Eventually, however, he shifted to talk of The Composer’s two brothers.

“The Everlasting’s ‘mortal’ form - if it can be called that - is by no means a reflection of his true power. Not only did he have the power of Time, but also that of the Darkness, which he had subjugated over the course of millions of years inside the Great Experiment, bending that force to his will and making it near powerless without him. But you know much of him already, yet nothing of his brother, the Emperor of Sorrows, who resided within the Mindscape, the Heart of Sorrows, the realm from which psionic power is drawn. Nicholas bent the very dreams of mortals to his will, such was his power and cunning.”

“How would someone reach the Heart of Sorrows?” Penumbra asked, “we have visited a part of the Throne World, which, like here, had been pulled into our universe. But what about the Heart of Sorrows?”

Leviathan rumbled, this time in thought. “Unlike here, or the Throne World, the Mindscape was not tied to Nicholas’ power. I do not believe that it would breach into the material universe. As for visiting it, there is a portal beneath the Citadel’s throne; the brothers would often have meetings.”

“A portal?” Penumbra’s mind suddenly snapped back into focus on what she was supposed to be doing. “Yes, a portal. That’s why we came out here, looking for material to repair the portal with.”

“It is damaged?” Leviathan asked, before shaking his mighty head, “I should not be surprised, much of Entropy’s Pinnacle was unable to withstand the entrance into the material, such delicate machinery would be almost impossible not to damage.”

“A chunk of it is missing,” Ablazed Glory said, “of the frame and the fibre bundle inside. Do you happen to know where any could be?”

Leviathan rumbled again. “As a matter of fact, I do. It is not here, however, but in the Watchtower. That is quite a journey from here, one I have not made in some time, which I ought to do regardless. You may feel free to join me, I will introduce you to the Watchtower’s keeper and we can fix the portal.”

“Thank you,” Penumbra said, holding out a claw to the cave’s exit, “we can go whenever you please.”

A pair of tentacles carefully wrapped around the two alicorns’ torsos, lifting them slowly up to Leviathan’s head, where a convenient flat space allowed them both to sit comfortably.

“Leviathan,” Ablazed Glory said, not quite sure where to aim her mouth as she spoke, “I am on fire, so it’s quite alright if you need me to fly or something.”

Leviathan chuckled. “Ah, no need, my skin is thick and stronger than steel, I am quite comfortable if you are.”

The flaming alicorn nodded and lay down, ready for a slow ride to the Watchtower. Her expectations were quickly subverted, however, when Leviathan exited the cave, his thousands of limbs propelling him forwards at surprisingly fast speeds. Even though they were proceeding quite quickly, given the length of Leviathan’s body it took well over a minute for his tail, its immense and wicked stinger attached, to leave the cave’s maw.

Penumbra spent much of the journey wondering how exactly to describe Leviathan’s movement. On the one talon, there were the various limbs that he used to walk, thus suggesting walk or its various synonyms as appropriate verbs to use. On the other talon was the fact that, although there was a veneer of walking, much of the actual movement appeared to be from Leviathan’s entire mass shifting forwards, the various appendages apparently being more for show than anything else, especially when a decent sized leg transformed into a wing that was a few inches long with no noticeable change in speed.

The Watchtower was similar in look to The Composer’s Citadel, though smaller. It had a wide but short base, which tapered upwards before rounding off and with its top split in two by an opening emerging from a large round hole, partially mirrored below by an indentation in the marbled walls, with swirling blue and purple stained-glass windows filling the indent. The only immediate difference in design from the Citadel, still partially visible in the distance, was the elaborate decoration on its lower quarter - though Leviathan had suggested that the corresponding area of the Citadel was no longer visible. The Watchtower was, similar to the Citadel, sat on an island, though the island was clearly artificial in nature, built of a purple and yellow patterned rock, which was revealed upon their arrival to be a labyrinth of some kind.

“The creatures within this labyrinth are dead,” Leviathan said, “and its networks no longer shift as they did in the past. However, it is full of corruption, which your forms will not be able to withstand. I would advise you to hold on, we are climbing over it.”

Tentatively, the two alicorns grabbed onto whatever hold they could find, with a pair of large, tumorous growths of sufficient fortunately being present. A few seconds later, Leviathan suddenly reared up, his head becoming an extra hundred metres higher in an instant. As though trying to disprove Penumbra’s theories on how he travelled, a hundred, massive tentacles emerged from Leviathan’s underbelly, grasping onto both the top of the labyrinth’s walls and various holds that existed in its decoration. With a hundred, powerful, prehensile limbs working independently of each other, Leviathan and his two passengers emerged over the top of the Labyrinth, whose floor was mostly invisible due to an opaque layer of sickly green smoke that covered it.

“Below,” Leviathan bellowed, “that is the vapour expelled by corruption in its purest form. Were we to descend, you would be consumed within seconds, even with all of your power.”

A few minutes of worrying about every slight wobble of Leviathan’s head later, they were at the foot of the Watchtower, Leviathan lowering his head to allow them to disembark. His body wrapped around the small grassy island that the Watchtower sat on, with his head facing the door.

“Aurora,” he bellowed, though Penumbra had established that was simply how he spoke, “I have brought guests, they require our aid.”