...It's a Fire World

[Viola]

Trying out a few writing styles here. So my next post or so might be inconsistent until I settle down. That includes the general tone I'm using for Viola.

I cling loosely to Kumoko as we plunge through the gate, instantly greeted by a harsh heat battering down upon us. The ground is black, sodden with ash, and looking up doesn't yield any sight of the sun, giving the new world a subterranean feel. I cough. The acidic sulfur from the air ravaging my lungs mixes with the lingering speckles of blood at the back of my throat. My body lurches, and before I can brace against it, tremors run down my arms threatening to break my grip.

Clenching, I try my best to maintain my grasp. Muscles strain. Still weak.

I could learn every magical trick in the book, but nothing will ever fix my vitality - from what I remember. Much of my repertoire is missing, but some is slowly coming back. Stop time. Loop time. Warp time. All utility - nothing potent. At least I still have my swords. Steel is reliable, even when spawned by magic. I'm sure, once I've healed and recovered, I'll have progressed far enough towards my former strength to defeat the clown. It'll be dead soon enough, however, so I intend to leave It behind me.

A shiver runs down my spine as I recall those events. Its claws piercing me. Its teeth chomping down. The many times I died.

Shuddering involuntarily, I find myself falling for a split second.

Kumoko shifts beneath me, compensating for my weakness as her many legs scuttle over the hot rocky floor (she's pink, so my assumption of her gender is as good a guess as any - better than referring to her as an object, a thing, an It).

"Thanks." My voice is breathy but still as tranquil as always, not as raspy as one might expect. The tear stains on my cheeks have dried, leaving my skin unblemished, pale, yet not as ghostlike as when I was more deprived of blood.

The skin around my stump has closed under the makeshift bandage, but it's too sticky for me to take off. I can survive without a hand for a time, but it would make things difficult. Faint tingles run over my nerves, and I can almost see a silhouette in the corner of my eye. It extends from my loose blood-soaked sleeve. I wiggle those fingers, but feel nothing, and see nothing when I humour the delusions. Only an everpresent fuzz - like electrical static - as if an alien being is caressing my missing limb.

It is uncomfortable.

Kumoko spins around while my breathing adjusts to the climate, and regrettably caused by some of my thoughts. The particulates in the air irritate my eyes, but I manage to create a weak filtration spell to prevent any further discomfort. I blink. Smoke was bad, but this was much worse. The terrain only looked more treacherous deeper into the world. 

Was anyone living her? There was a flat land near the fountain, would it not be more suitable to build a house there?

Perhaps, I consider, everyone is simply underground. A tropical paradise hidden by a smoldering ceiling. I have seen many climates, but nothing like this. Volcanos and mountain ranges? Yes. Anything as hellish as the place? No.

On a different day, I might have found myself taking samples, or protecting someone else as they did. That didn't matter now. So many years of research left behind. All on topic for the betterment of the realm, rather than my own interests. 

Consciously, I force myself to shrug. I don't know if that's the correct reaction, or if I should act in any way at all, but I want to be expressive. Loss is a rather dull feeling to me. It is hard to become attached to something when you know one day it will fade away.

I look down at the spider, about to mention that it might be better to try our luck elsewhere. She is fast. The clown is occupied, or dead, we would be fine. I don't want to push my luck - but I am a slow walker. It is unlikely I could ever match Kumoko's pace on foot, so she may have to carry me everywhere. If she is unable to travel here, it would be best to retrace our steps and take another path.

Yet, before I do speak, she shakes her head, spins around, and merrily speeds off away from the archway. If she could talk, I imagine she would be humming. She strikes me as a happy individual, but that could just be my mind projecting what I want to see upon her. Regardless, Kumoko is trustworthy, and while my predicament is less limited, we both have our troubles expressing ourselves.

I take a shallow breath while my eyes strategically examine the surroundings, scrutinisingly noting every little detail. Many I forget within seconds. The dark sky shifts, revealing a sliver of orange over the far horizon. Any shadows it painted were invisible among the dark terrain, with lava pools and veins casting their own focused glow.

We travel for some time, but I make no noticeable progress healing my hand. A sliver of strength flows through my body, however. Enough to lift a small rock, and maybe even throw it. I wouldn't count on that. My warm magic fizzles down my spine, soothing and comforting, contrasting the unrelenting heat with a much more welcoming embrace. In comparison, it makes the burning air seem less intense. Tolerable, even. I don't want to get used to it.

Notably, the odd spread crushed rocks lay in wave besides our path, signifying that others may have ridden here before. Perhaps on horseback, or by carriage. Or, worryingly, maybe they were large enough to crush the stones themselves.

I have no wish to turn every meeting into a hostile encounter, but I must be wary. Kumoko could have eaten me. Power may be at my disposal, but that doesn't mean I can drop my guard around others. My foresight is unreliable and fails to give enough warning to prepare myself adequately against a skilled opponent. It is a tool. Not a crutch.

And Kumoko is a friend. Not a tool.

This is a new world, one I have no obligation to assist in its development, or sustainability. I want to be young, not to look down on others because of my years. We're all equals here, pulled in together.

Which leaves a dilemma.

What do I do?

Or, what do I want to do?

If there are many others, they have factions, allegiances, and probably enemies too.

I'm certain I can prove useful, should my looks not hold weight on their opinion. Escaping an orphanage is not something I wish to do any time soon. But, it does provide some safety. In my experience, many are reluctant to kill a young girl, even if they know her looks are deceiving. Nothing to rely on, but something that could prove useful.

A girl and her pink spider friend. An intelligent pink spider. Like a fantasy adventure novel.

Ruling. Leadership. It was a strain. Many monarchies have been my puppets. Dressed up faces dancing to my plans. A quiet life would be unsuitable, also. I want to do things. See things. Something new. Danger is inevitable.

But first.

"We can rest."

I try to balance, pointing a finger towards a dark cave. Enhancing my reactions, I shift in slow motion. Time crawls, and with perfect precision I lean, twitching my weak muscles to stay balanced with no hands. The focus I dedicate to my simple stunt is a testament to my limited physical capabilities. I have ridden ponies with saddles. Kumoko's body is not naturally suited for riding, it will take some getting used to. I can learn. I want to learn. I'm riding a pink intelligent spider. After eight hundred years, I don't get many 'firsts' anymore. Good firsts, anyway. 

The future intrigues me. For a moment, I wish I could throw away my years. That I could have come here as a little girl. A real little girl. Youthful. Happy. Energetic. Wishful, with ideas and ideals for her fate. Like the little me back at the orphanage, before she learned how special she was. Or the more matured, but still playful, girl at the church. A magical novice, weak but unyielding. Longing to one day gain a taste of adventure.

They would have died to the clown.

Time resumes as normal. My magical crutch doesn't drain much energy, leaving me confident in my abilities.

Kumoko nods and scuttles forwards. Her movements are a little odd as if she's playing a game of 'don't step on the cracks'. I pay it no mind, assuming her legs are simply frail. I would hope we're not walking on a proverbial field of landmines.

My mana hisses, expelling out of my good hand and moulding into a fresh steel blade. Kumoko glances back up at me, hearing the noise. I try to smile back, to assure her I am merely using the swords blue glow as a torch, but it comes across as grim - like I'm expecting a fight.

Steadying herself, Kumoko renews her trot, fangs barred as she plunges us both into the near-darkness.