Fire bends.
Not in the raging, screaming manner yet more like a pyre that had already done most of its damage. Smoke swirled through the broken war where crimson banners clung to shattered bones. Ash snowed gently across the battlefield, dancing through the heat of what remained.
A Red patrol made its way through the ruins, their eyes alert, their body tense and their soul burning high through the decay of their deceased comrades. They moved with caution, their boots cracking over flesh and bone. Each wore heavy armor streaked with soot, their weapons forged in magma, flaming axes that still glowed orange and swords wreathed in embers. Red fire hovered in calloused palms, lighting their path with flickering glimmer.
Then came the sound.
A metallic rasp.
In a blink of an eye, a hooked black chain erupted from the mist and coiled around a soldier's ankle. Before anyone could react, it yanked him into the dark wall of fog, his screams vanished before it could reach it's end.
The others turned, weapons raised, voices crying out to command an assembly as they awaited the devil's move.
There was nothing but smoke.
And then- A pair of even darker eyes..
Half-seen in the mist, the entity walked calmly into view.
He wore a black topcoat, dusted in ash, with a dark grey scarf lazily wrapped around his neck. Beneath it: layers of worn black cloth, as if dressing in mourning even before the world's death. His loafers made no sound. His skin was pale- way too pale, like the last flicker of moonlight in a dying black sky. His hair, pure void. His eyes, darker still.
He paused in the haze, head tilted, eyebrow raised and eyes showing a loud sign of mockery.
"Bad time?" he asked, his voice dry, amused. He shuffled his fingers through his hair, brushing what was already well-displayed, his lips curving into a bow to display a smug of sorts. "I think not."
They stared at him in stunned silence before raising their heated weapons.
But then he moved-
With a burst of speed that shattered silence and deafened drums, he launched forward, a blur of black trailing shadow. A solid blade erupted from the rebel's forearm mid-leap, sharp and ready, humming with corruption and leaking with ink.
He stabbed into the lead soldier, driving and pinning his corpse into the ground with a sickening crack, then spun mid-roll to knock aside another with the flat of his blade. One lunged with an axe- he ducked, caught the wrist, and twisted hard, enough to break, enough to hear the cries of pain that belonged to one who is supposedly meant to give his life for his own region before sending the weapon clattering.
He kicked off the fallen body, flipped sideways, and with a single sweeping arc of his unnaturally stretched-inky arm, carved a crescent of darkness and decay through two more opponents who succumbed to their death shortly after.
Landing light on his feet, his half-jacket swirling, he exhaled calmly.
As he sheathed his weapon back from where it came from, he stood proud to face the fog, witnessing the chaos that was caused by none other than those who followed himz the infected. His ear caught a faint noise of an approaching war cry, one that was way too many for him to handle in one mere second. After all, he does have much more important things to attend to.
He raised one hand and snapped his fingers.
The fog moved.
From its depths came a low growl. Then another. Then the thunder of clawed limbs sunk deep into the black soil.
Infected hounds, enormous and skeletal, burst through the mist like a wave of nightmares. Their forms shimmered with corruption, skin stretched tight over shifting bones. They stormed past him in a frenzy, bumping his coat as they rushed forward.
He rolled his shoulders slightly, muttering, "Rude."
The Red soldiers opened fire, flame met fang in chaos behind him but he didn't look back.
Instead, he approached the thick stone wall that blocked the central hold.
He balled a fist.
One punch. A deep crack.
Second punch. Dust poured.
Third-
The wall gave way, falling inward in a roar of broken stone as it came crumbling down.
He stepped back, admiring his work.
"Door's open, boys. Try not to drool on the floors." Manifested from the void where his people or whatever was of them. They were reanimated corpses guided solely by the same hive mind that moved their leader. They followed, spreading across the land with every step he takes onto this heated land.
But then- he stopped.
He turned his head slightly. Something pricked the edge of his perception. Not through sight. Not sound. Something... else.
Something is wrong...
No. Not wrong- resisting.
Far from the chaos, a lone barn sagged on the edge of a forgotten field, its roof half-collapsed, its walls scorched. The air here was heavy with rot, but inside, hidden in shadows and straw, a woman lay dying. Once a wife for one of the soldiers, she had fled during the siege. Alone. Carrying a child inside.
She had tried to run. To hide.
Now she had no strength left.
But she had enough to bring life into the world.
The child did not cry.
The child did not scream
She simply whined..
She was curious..
She was- White. From the top of her hair till the bottom of her heel.
Not pale. Not colorless. But pure, radiant in a way the world had not seen in ages. Her skin glowed faintly with the light of untouched emotion, unspoiled by sin or decay. Her mother smiled faintly, whispering a word only the walls heard- and then, like a candle, her spark went out.
The Entity stood at the barn's edge now, late but never too late.
He'd followed that impossible pulse.
He stepped inside.
The infant turned her head toward him. She did not cry. She simply blinked up at him, curious, her eyes as big as they can get, her small hands curled into fists.
He stared.
"Aren't you a strange little paradox," he murmured, kneeling. "You're not supposed to be here."
His hand hovered over her, claws out, dripping with infectious venom that could end armies and bury millions yet struggled to defeat this infant. The air around it shimmered, unstable.
He could end her now. Snuff the spark. That's what the hive would want. That's what logic demanded.
And yet- He hesitated.. his expression changing as the hive's voice commanded him, leaving his expression unreadable, his eyes wide open as if hearing that his brothers had to say.
He then slowly smiled. Not a wicked grin. A strange, distant thing. Almost proud. Almost sad, almost disappointed.
"Well," he whispered. "Let's break every rule, shall we?"
His hand shifted back as he picked her up, his jacket off as he tucked her into it and up against his chest, turning to the door. His legs heavy, and his knees twitched, yet never defied the voice that stuck to him even before his existence. The infant quickly fell into the much-needed warmth.
"Come on, little snowdrop," he said. "Let's give the world something to talk about."
He stood in his track, commanded his troops to retreat and raised the child high, signalling a white flag, surrendering what he could've easily considered a successful mission. Of course, all under the guidance of the hive. He watched as the guards approached, slow but cautious, they saw the White between his hands and lowered their weapons, their eyes as wide as they could get. For now, his execution can not be decided by their blades.
Council of Novelties - The Judgment
The chamber pulsed with restrained fury. A ring of thrones, seven in all, each adorned with the gleaming crest and signature color of its kingdom, surrounded the dark prisoner at its centre.
He stood calm, arms bound in color-threaded manacles, he stood with deceptive ease, chains woven from seven threads- one from each kingdom. But it was the child in his arms that silenced even the angriest of the Novelties, yet that didn't stop him from holding the infant girl against his shoulder as she slept against it beneath the folds of his dark jacket. But the air around him was sharp, full of memories, violence, and color.
He tilted his head with that same smug grin, the kind that could kill a room's patience.
"I know what you're thinking," he began, voice syrup-smooth. "Why is he here? Why is he holding a child? Why does he not have a steel sword deep into his chest?"
"You butchered cities for centuries," spat Red's novelty, fists trembling. "You turned our dead into mockeries."
"You made a game of it," Yellow hissed. "Like it was fun-"
"I make a lot of things fun," he replied with a shrug, rocking the child gently. "But yes. I did terrible things. Unspeakable things. I painted the walls with the worst of you. And I'd do it again, too."
He paused just long enough for their rage to sharpen, then struck.
"But not with her in my arms."
The statement hung in the air like smoke after a blast, his fingers shuffling the jacket right off her head, barely showing her color. The council tensed for a brief moment, their voices betraying their throats as they could only watch as their core enemy spoke.
"I found her where your armies didn't expect," he said, softer now. "A child, white, untouched, unloved. Her mother bled out holding her, and not even my infection dared touch her. I could've turned away. I could've- ended her, the sole thing that could undo me and my siblings.. You all think I'm that man."
A few novelty hands gripped their armrests harder.
"But I didn't." he whispered. "And maybe that means something. Or maybe not. But I couldn't walk away. Not from her."
He leaned forward just enough to meet their gazes, one by one.
"So, go ahead. Kill me -even though you can't- . Make another symbol. Another reason to light torches and wave flags. Or..."
He smiled faintly. The baby stirred, curling into him like a safe corner.
"...You can leash the monster. Let me live. Let me raise her. Let me walk your kingdoms and keep her safe, and you'll have a monster on a leash that barks when the shadows move." As hurtful as these words could be to his own dignity, he held his head high, submitting his final act of loyalty to the hive's wishes.
Purple's novelty adjusted her glasses, intrigued more than moved. "You're suggesting we trust an infected man who could bend a city into screaming? Have you forgotten what you are?"
"No," he said. "I'm suggesting you chain him to something brighter than him. And let him fear losing it. The girl lives, I live. The girl dies.. I die."
Purple stared only to think, her vision lost into the abyss, yet her hair was soon disturbed by the sudden bang as Red's fist came down onto the wooden unified counter facing him, his body bursting into flames that swallowed the air surrounding him.
"You are in no position to bargain!! You will answer for your crimes! Years of chasing have finally paid off, and I will not allow this opportunity to slip from my grasp!!" Red yelled, the little girl's sleep obviously as equally disturbed as the rest, leading to whines and such comfortable movements which her carrier was quick to notice.
"Except that.. You never caught me, in fact, I stand here out of my free uncaged will, I surrendered and if I did not.. You would've never caught me." The boy spoke, Red's eyes drifting momentarily to face the guard accompanying him by whom he nodded his head vaguely as a sign of confirmation. Causing the novelty to back down into his seat.
"Poor thing.. must be so traumatised after all the reckless bloodshed.." Blue whispered, her eyes filled with tears as she looked at the little infant.
"As- Hurtful as that sounds, we can not risk the spread of the virus into our lands. We care about our civilians. I am sorry." Pink spoke.
"The fact that he was allowed here to begin with is questionable as it is. I agree with Pink, he must not be allowed in." Orange mumbled.
"The death of whites has always been expected, we can not drift away from tradition.. However, having a Rebel on our side is something we can not turn a blind eye to.. I request further consideration on this matter." Yellow hoped, his wings lowered, signalling concern.
"Having such a powerful weapon in our hands can put an end to the plague and restore the health of our lands. Besides.." Green commented, her head lowered. "We've lost enough, we are deteriorating, if we don't change our ways, our people will pay for it."
"I.. agree with Green.." Blue spoke shyly.
They all turned their heads, now fixed on Purple, who stood motionless at the centre of the chamber. Known as the most intelligent among them, the weight of expectation bore down on her like a crown of glass.
"We cannot permit such a breach to walk freely within our borders," she began, her tone measured, every syllable calculated. "I must decline your proposition... and instead, offer my own."
Her eyes closed. For a moment, the room was silent until her voice returned, softer now, lost in thought
"In our research... we encountered a White. Or rather- what was once a White. The body was far too valuable to discard. And in our dissection, we discovered something... remarkable. When a White perishes, her heart crystallizes, not into ash or decay, but into a brilliant, colorless gem. A diamond."
Gasps circled the table. She continued.
"These diamonds don't destroy the infection. But they suppress it- hold it at bay. We believe it's their final gift.. a kind of failsafe. A posthumous shield against the plague they were born to resist."
There was a long pause. Then the tilted his head curiously yet doubtabley
"And you're suggesting...?"
"I will retrieve a shard from our vault," she replied. "A piece from that very crystal. We will bind you to it.. not the girl. This connection will weaken your power. You'll lose your command on the plague. Your essence will no longer serve the Hive, but be anchored to this gem."
She opened her eyes, their violet glow sharp and certain.
"If the shard breaks, you die. This bond will be irreversible but it's the only path forward... if you truly mean to raise her among us."
The room fell deathly still. For a moment, he said nothing. The voices from the Hive surged, pleading, taunting, warning.
And then, all but one fell silent.
Only her voice remained.
He closed his eyes. His lips twitched with uncertainty.
"... I accept."
And with that, the pact was sealed.
For the first time in his cursed memory, the Hive was silent. The chorus of commands, the rage, the teeth of the pit- gone.
Leaving the council today was a broken man, his body weakened by the light, his senses muted by the gem and his steps weighted heavy. He was.. cold, he felt it.. he could feel the pain in his chest that lingered, the pain in his head that wouldn't go away.
Yet he held the child, his palm beneath her head as her arms remained on her sides, attempting to balance herself. Her eyes look up at his as if begging to be taken care of.
"They will understand.." The boy said as he watched the guard before him unlocking the heavenly gates, guaranteeing his safe arrival.
"Don't you think?" the boy said as the light of 7 colors fell upon his now fatigued figure, still talking to the bare clueless infant. His lips now stretch back weakly to show the long awaited smile.
"Little rose?"