Ice-Bound Promise [Wattys 2023 Shortlister]

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The vision before Únik wavered and rippled, twisted and rolled. At once, the image of the most beautiful, radiant woman. The next, a man. Again the form changed to that of a great, bulbous and horrifying spider. Then to a shimmering, formless void, or was it a shining orb of light. Únik could not comprehend the many and varied, shifting forms, but, through all the changes, some things remained the same.

Whether the creature, this fallen Patron, held the form of a humanoid, or a spider, or a void, or light, eight arms, or legs, or tendrils of nothing, fingers of light, stretched out from their form pierced by eight, glowing, pulsating spears of energy that throbbed and crackled. Each time the figure moved, the energy spears would pulsate, vibrate and send energy into the creature, causing it to writhe and thrash.

For an immortal being beyond Únik's comprehension, the creature looked as though in terrible pain. Únik could only imagine what the creature suffered. For how long it had suffered so, down in the depths of the world. For centuries? For a thousand years, since the last Upheaval? For eternity?

"If you are, were, a Patron, how is it possible for you to be trapped here?" Hatyara also looked upon the creature with adulation and terror, tears streaming down her ice-blue cheeks, though she still spoke with a defiance that Únik lacked. "I ... I find it difficult to believe."

"The one you call Tismit Kha, Lord of the greatest and the smallest of the Heavenly bodies, laid me low for attempting to usurp his throne." The creature, Frianchenzer, appeared to slump, as though wracked with guilt, then rose up once more. "I thought myself powerful, many worshipped me, loved me and shared their strength with me. I thought myself great and mighty. But I found myself wanting and unworthy. Pinned to this world by pure Essence, never to rise again."

As though to emphasise the point, Frianchenzer flexed its limbs and the spears of energy flashed brighter than the Sun, though it did not damage the eyes of Únik, Shihiri or Hatyara. They could not turn away if they wished to, entranced by the majesty before them.

"'Pure Essence'? What is that? Some kind of magic?" Despite her bravado, Shihiri also wept. The image of Frianchenzer causing so many conflicting emotions within them all.

"Essence is magic! Magic is Essence! Do you know nothing, child?" The fallen Patron rose up above them, looking down without eyes or a face, imperious. God-like. "Essence is the remnants of the dead gods, Vaiah, the one that was many, felled in defence of this universe. What you mortals call 'magic' is the merest inkling of the power that we Patrons wield and that power but an infinitesimal fraction of the power of the gods! Magic? It is the power of creation! Of destruction! Essence is the universe and the universe is Essence!"

Once again, after those words, the creature appeared to slump. To fold itself inwards. To diminish. As though speaking so, in such a fashion about such immense things, had drawn all the energy from them. Únik felt a swell of pity for the creature. Why, she could not say, yet to see something of such power, of such magnitude, brought to this made Únik understand her own troubles, her mistakes, her failures, were nothing compared to this.

She stepped forward and realised she had regained control of her legs, the influence and control of Frianchenzer had gone. Reaching out a hand, Únik tried to touch the fallen Patron, but something stopped her. Her own fears, perhaps, or the thought of reverence? It was not a barrier, but her own hand that stopped.

To her side, she saw Shihiri and Hatyara realise they now controlled their own limbs. They both stepped back several feet until they came to the realisation that they still walked upon the bodies of the dead. Hatyara reached for Shihiri's arm, looking as though she were about to retch, her slippered feet skipping as she tried not to step on the upturned faces of the bodies beneath her feet.