Chirin: “That creature… was once an Abyssian?!

Python: “That’s right. And judging by the look of its aura, it’s an ancient one too…”

Chirin: (“It’s spiritual energy… There’s something she sees in it that I can’t see!”)

Python placed a hand on Chirin’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

Python: “Chirin… I've spent the last decade and more of my life traveling through dangerous lands and Elder-claimed territories. I... can't stand up against this thing, so I need you to listen to me very carefully—”

Her voice was quiet, yet firm– the most serious Chirin had ever heard her speak. It caused him to absorb the severity of the situation they were in.

Python: “Stand still. Stay quiet, and do not make eye contact. It doesn't seem too interested in either of us at the moment, but if anything goes wrong, I want you to get away from here as fast as you can— straight to the river that feeds into the bubbling lake. You know where it is. Nothing will follow you there.”

Chirin: “What about you?”

Python: “I’ll be alright. Just stay still and follow my lead. We’ll be okay just as long as we don’t provoke it.”

Chirin shot a glance at the tree-bound Abyssian.

Chirin: “Shouldn’t we help them?!”

Python’s momentary silence was heavy. 

Python: “Look at their chest, Chirin. We're too late. Their heart is missing. That Elder already ate it. It’s only a matter of time before they run out of energy and disappear. We don’t have much time to make a quick, clean getaway, and I know you're not fully recovered from your injuries. We can’t afford to take any chances—”

Her next words were barely a whisper.

Python: “ —They are beyond saving.”

Python: "...Just listen to my directions and don't hold me back. The last thing we want to do is attack it. Once we have its full attention, there's no going back."

Chirin’s lips pressed into a thin line as he stared straight into the Elder Abyssian’s widening black, beady eyes. It towered over him and Python, its monstrous form seemingly pulled from the darkest corners of his worst nightmares. The stench of decay emanated from the Elder along with the acrid scent of fear that permeated Chirin’s senses.

The Elder was a predator, an embodiment of pure terror, and Chirin and Python were helpless prey.

It inched closer to two of them, and then suddenly, its face morphed into one of… 

Chirin: (“Confusion? No… It almost looks like it’s in disbelief?”)

The Elder Abyssian took a single step away, kneading the grass with its massive claws, prehensile tail curling and uncurling.

???: “ᑕᕼᕼᕼᗴᗴᗴᗴᗴᗴ... ᖇᗩᗩᑎᑌᎥ...?”

Its voice came out raspy and unnaturally low, rumbling with an unearthly timbre as it strained to speak words.

???: “Ƴᑌᑌ… ᑕᗩᗴᗰᗴ ᗷᗩᕼǤᛕ…?”

Chirin felt Python stiffen beside him as the Elder Abyssian drew alarmingly close. Despite its closeness, it didn’t appear to show any signs of aggression— only curiosity. But nonetheless, the fear remained. Chirin buried his face into Python’s back. He heard the Elder Abyssian draw in a massive breath, so powerful that the air seemed to whistle around them. 

And then, everything was deathly still.

???: “W-What are you waiting for…? Help me! Please!”

At the tree-bound Abyssian’s whimper for help, Chirin heard the Elder let out a low, animalistic hiss as it drew back with one long stride. He snuck a peek at it, watching as it swung around with one slow, sluggish movement.

As it did, a single paper, that of which was stuck between one of its scales, flew out, floating to Chirin’s feet.

The behemoth in question, to the tree-bound Abyssian’s horror, began to slowly climb back up to its prey, grunting as if it were weeping.

???: “ᗩǤᕼ… ᑎᗝ... ᗩǤᕼ… ᑎᗝ丅 Ƴᗝᑌ... Ƴᗝᑌ'ᖇᗴ ᑎᗝ丅 ᕼᗴᖇ… ᑎᗝ丅 Ƴᗝᑌ... ᑎᗝ…”

???: “Ƴᗝᑌ'ᖇᗴ ᖇᗴᗩᒪᒪƳ Ǥᗝᑎᗴ.”

???: ”Ꭵ'ᗰ ᔕᗝᖇᖇƳ. Ꭵ'ᗰ ᔕᗝᖇᖇƳ. Ꭵ'ᗰ ᔕᗝᖇᖇƳ. Ꭵ'ᗰ ᔕᗝᖇᖇƳ—-”

Chirin tore his gaze away from the Elder, sparing a glance at the paper that had floated to his feet. It appeared to have been written by hand with clear and impressive penmanship, but the language was one that he did not recognize. However, there was one thing printed on it that caused his gaze to linger: a single, large compass rose with six diamonds and a pair of star-streaked wings. With wide, curious eyes, Chirin slowly picked it up.

(And then, flashing in his mind, came the image of an office, and the pungent aroma of chemicals, herbs, ink, and paper that Chirin had associated with it and the individual who frequented it. There were glasses, measuring tools, and lab equipment scattered all around. Yet, despite the chaos, there appeared to be a sense of order to the cluster. Every item seemed to have its place, and Chirin couldn’t help but feel as if the individual who frequented this space had a mind that was just as methodical as their surroundings.  The windows were covered with fine linen, filtering out the majority of the sunlight and casting the room in a dim glow. A single fluorescent light flickered intermittently from that linen-shaded window, casting a harsh glow over a corkboard that hung just across from it. And on that board, stuck in the middle of a plethora of various documents, was a paper printed with a single large compass rose with six diamonds and a pair of star-streaked wings.)

(Staring back at him mockingly.)

(It was then that he felt he knew who this office belonged to.)

(The image of a woman with fluffy, light-colored hair, a man with wild, burning dark hair, and another man with straight, choppy white hair who Chirin recognized as his father flashed in his mind. They were standing side by side in the Peace Lilies, their figures illuminated by the setting sun as they overlooked the deep black pit of the Abyss. Chirin stood far behind them.)

(Their lips were moving: they were talking. Chirin didn’t know what they were talking about. He couldn’t hear them over his ringing ears.)

(The man with burning dark hair was apologizing profusely for something.)

(The woman wasn’t pleased. No... she was outrageously furious. His father looked horrified.)

(Chirin felt guilty. He felt sick.)

(He didn’t know why.)

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T H R E E  M O R E L E F T …

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A sudden, agonizing scream tore Chirin away from his flashback.

It was the tree-bound Abyssian: screaming as the Elder dug its claws into their body, shaking them relentlessly like a ragdoll as it continued its mantra of apologies. Chirin watched helplessly, his heart pounding in his chest. They feebly defended themselves, their movements a blur of fear and determination but ultimately futile. He could see the their body dissolving like burning paper; like a corporeal spirit slowly crumbling to oblivion.

Chirin: “O-Oh my word… T-This can’t be happening—!”

Python: “Chirin—”

Python gently squeezed Chirin’s shoulder, her voice low and quiet. But Chirin ignored her; his gaze remained on the Elder Abyssian, watching as its burning dark scales shifted into the colors of its environment as it played with its– 

Python’s hand fell over his eyes, blocking his view of the scene before him. He took a sharp intake of breath as his eyes snapped to meet her steely, grayish ones.

Python: “Don’t look.”

Chirin: "B-But..."

Python: “No ...It’s time for us to leave.”

The tree-bound Abyssian’s screams began to waver.

Chirin: "W-What about-?"

Python: “No. We can't. Come. Come with me. Walk away slowly.”

She guided Chirin to turn around, and two of them began to pace away slowly. He spared a glance at Python. She seemed so calm, so very much in control of the situation as opposed to Chirin, shaking, helpless, and terrified. The Elder let out a particularly loud, mournful screech, and Chirin spared a glance at it.

Chirin: “O-Oh no–!”

Python: “ –Hush. Do not look back, and do not run. You must never run from an Elder. It will only attract their attention.”

Trusting in her judgment, Chirin wordlessly obliged, sticking close to Python’s side as they carefully strolled away from the behemoth, who spared them a glance before returning to its screaming prey. 

They continued walking for what seemed like hours— long, tense, deathly quiet moments where all Chirin could hear was the fierce pounding of his heart and the crunch of the grass with each step he took. And soon, the Elder's howls and the tree-bound Abyssian's screams had quieted, and everything was still. 

Python stopped and let out a long, relieved sigh. Her shoulders were hunched, and her breathing came out ragged. The relief of being safe and unharmed was palpable, but so was the lingering anxiety and fear that remained. Chirin could feel it rolling off Python in waves. He gingerly took her hand, shakily pressing his fingers into her palms. They were rough and calloused; hardened by years of travel and tribulation. This was the first time Chirin had seen Python so nervous. He didn’t know what else to do.

Chirin: “Python?”

Python stilled at his mention of her name and let out a grumble that almost sounded like a huff of laughter. She straightened up, her anxiety seemingly dissipating at that moment.

Python: “Y-You… Didn’t call me ma’am for once… Good on you, Chirin.”

Chirin: “Oh!”

Python: “Yes. “Oh” indeed… Ahahahahaha!”

The small quip seemed to lighten the mood a bit, but the tension still remained. Python gave Chirin’s hand a little squeeze as she gazed at him thoughtfully.

Python: “You’re still afraid.”

Chirin: “...I am.”

Chirin: ("I'm terrified. We... left someone to die.")

Python, having sensed his inner turmoil, gently ruffled his hair.

Python: “Don't be. We came out this okay. And that's all that matters. It's over now.”

Chirin’s gaze fell to their intertwined hands. 

He could feel her shivering.

He cupped her hand with both of his own and shot her a warm, watery smile.

Chirin: “T-Thank you, Python.”

She returned his smile with one of her own, the two of them momentarily taking comfort in each other’s presence. However, Chirin’s mind couldn’t help but wander.

Chirin: (“It’s only been one day since I have woken up in Abyss, and I hadn’t really realized it, but since then, my entire world has changed. This place is… absolutely terrifying. How long am I going to be stuck here?”)

Chirin looked at the paper he got from the Elder Abyssian, observing the compass rose symbol thoughtfully. The more he looked at it, the more nauseous he felt.

Chirin: (“...Why does looking at this thing make me feel so… sick? Is it because of something I forgot? What does this mean to me?”)

And thus, came more questions to add to the slowly increasing pile of mysteries. The paper crinkled under his tightening fingers.

Chirin:  (“Ugh! I don’t like not knowing. This is frustrating!”)

Python: “That paper you're holding... Where did you get that?”

Chirin: “I got it from the Elder; it dropped it. Do you know what this star-looking symbol is?”

Python: “...Nope. Why did you take this with you?”

Chirin: “I don’t know. I felt like I really needed to take it, but… Uh… I don't even know what the point of me having this is if I can’t even read it.”

Python: “What? You can’t read!? Give it to me.”

She took the paper from Chirin, looking at it for a few short moments. Her lips then pressed into a thin line.

Python: “What in the 10 worlds is this language?”

Chirin: “Can you read it?”

She wordlessly handed Chirin the paper, shaking her head.

Python: “Every Abyssian speaks and writes the same language. There are a few lost languages that exist, but I don’t recognise any of them here, and these days, almost nobody writes or speaks like that anymore. If this was a lost language, I’m certain I would have been able to recognise it, but… It’s been many years since I studied it. I can’t help you here, Chirin. You might have better luck with that elsewhere.”

Chirin: “If it’s like that, then...I wonder what that Elder Abyssian was doing with it… And why did it, uh… seem to recognise me?”

Python: “...We'll never know. Most Elder Abyssians retain some of their memories after losing themselves, but they don’t usually come out after a certain trigger. It must have mistaken you for someone it used to know.”

Chirin stared at the paper, his thoughts drifting to the Elder Abyssian. The name it shouted, the way it howled mournfully. The pure, genuine disbelief that twisted its monstrous face as it stared into Chirin’s eyes.

He thought about the tree-bound Abyssian, having been caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, and forced into an impossible-to-escape situation. The ache of being unable to save them gnawed at his consciousness, tormenting him with a cruel game of “what if’s” and “if only’s”.

He couldn’t shake the feeling of grief that settled over him at everything that had happened, nor the noticeable weight of his own mortality.

It was almost suffocating.

Chirin: “...Is that really what we’re all going to become like…? Monsters?”

Python: “You either rest with your dying body or eat yourself to insanity. If that is what it takes to keep living, then for some, so be it.”

Chirin: “...I can’t help but feel sorry for that Elder. What were they like before they became like that?”

Python: “Don’t know. But it’s not wrong to assume that they were just like us once upon a time.”

Chirin: “...I wish there was a way to help them both. The Elder and its victim.”

Python: “You want to help the Elder?”

Chirin: “Yeah. They don’t deserve to be like that.”

Python: “Chirin–”

Her grip on their intertwined hands tightened for a moment, and Chirin could feel a certain quiet rage emanating from her.

Python: “ –No Abyssian reaches that state unless they want it. They chose to be like that.”

Python: “They made a conscious decision to eat the hearts of others –to steal their lifespans: Their futures– until their bodies couldn’t handle the chaos that came with their age. In return, they got the immortality they wanted in exchange for their consciousness and an insatiable hunger for their own kind.”

Python: “There is not one Abyssian who doesn’t understand what achieving true immortality does to them.”

Python: “They don't deserve your pity.”

Chirin: “...”

Chirin: “.......”

Chirin: “... The fact that we all have to make a choice like that one day isn’t fair.”

Python didn’t say anything for a long moment, gazing at Chirin in what he could only assume was thoughtfulness. It was at times like this that he wished he could see her face– to experience her true, genuine emotions as opposed to what he guessed she was thinking. Finally, she shook her hand free from his and let it fall to his shoulder, a small gesture that pulled Chirin away from his thoughts.

Python: “Cups of tea will always cool, snow will always melt, and life will disintegrate as it ages. Time is ruthless. No matter who you are, what you are capable of, or what you have achieved, it will never yield to you. Whether you lose yourself to the madness of time or submit to it, ultimately… The fate of every living thing is oblivion. It’s inevitable. It always lurks closely. It can come at any moment. And once it does, there is no afterlife, no second chances– just oblivion. Nonexistence.”

Chirin: “Are you afraid of oblivion?”

Python sat silent for a long moment. Her next words were barely a whisper.

Python: "Who wouldn't be?"

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