If the scholars are the hands, then the Astralarium is the heart. An ancient relic given to mankind by the Basilisk. They say it’s made from the spinal cord of a Leviathan and that it was embedded in earth’s crust, reaching the core. Like an iceberg, the tip is a mere fragment of what lies beneath. The scholars have a name for the peak, an instrument they call the sundial. A tool that has its own gravitational pull strong enough to influence even the gas giants. What manner of power is this and why don’t we fear the god who made it?
Ilene started with her ankle. A fold of skin came loose nearest her big toe, and it was easy to work that section free. At first, it felt good, like peeling off a week-old scab that burned and itched. Even as a little girl, she loved that feeling, sneaking out of her mother’s house to rub sycamore sap on her hands to peel off later. That’s how it felt, pulling webbing from between her toes and the squamous carcinoma from her palms and thighs.
Beneath a mound of leathery scales was a soft pink layer. That was her lymphatic vessel. Fresh skin puffy and red. Ilene was careful not to scratch and break the membrane before its time. She wanted to stay like this as long as possible, like the young woman whose stomach didn’t growl while her sister slept. What she wouldn’t give to be that woman again.
Ilene took a deep breath. The simple part was over.
Click.
She dislocated her right arm to grab at the loose section across her back.
“One,” she said to herself. “Two, Three!”
Rip!
She screamed, tearing out the gills and spindly fibers that danced across the floor like a fish out of water. Ilene dropped to her knees, panting, her hands shaking and sweat dripping from her brow.
Click.
Her right arm rolled into place, and she sat on her ankles, pinching the skin on the side of her left breast and the loose patch from her navel to her groin.
“One,” Ilene exhaled sharply. “Two!”
Rip!
Ilene screamed again, blood and tears flowing like a river, filling divots in the floor. She lay there for a time, struggling to catch her breath and keep her fingers still. The cool ivory felt good across her belly, itchy and red.
Soon, Ilene rolled onto her back and sat up cross-legged, reaching for the hand mirror on her bedside table. She worked at the layer of skin by her ear, pressing her thumb until the membrane gave way. Then, pinching the corner with her thumb and forefinger, she lifted, pulling the skin away like rubber until it hit the corners of her scarred cheek. Ilene hissed, the scab holding fast like hair under a wad of adhesive.
“What I wouldn’t give to be that woman again,” she said, clenching her teeth and closing her eyes.
Rip!
The thirteenth, of course. It had to be the thirteenth. Her time of the month was always the same, no matter the year or season. Ilene laughed, remembering when the cycle involved little more than a few drops of blood and a cramp or two. In those days, she was innocent; In those days, she couldn’t yet hear Vorax.
The Leviathan never seemed to stop screaming during a Pallid war. Closing her ears was useless. The sound peeled back her fingers and ruptured her tympanic membrane. Itrit gave her lotion for the scars, and it helped for a time. At least until her cochlea enlarged, making space for a second vestibular nerve. She could hear everything now, like Pilus arguing two floors down, Felix licking his wrist as he panted in the dark, and Icarus sounding the call of battle on the distant plains of Kath’le Kal.
Itrit told her of Kath’le Kal when she started hearing spilled guts, screaming horrors, and the shrill, triumphant cry of a wingless dragon. The Pallid desert was the domain of the Great Devourer, goddess of entropy and mother of thirst, and the engineers were her children. Ilene knew them as the gods and goddesses of war who stoked the hearts of those eager for battle. The Devourer fed on conflict and the Pallid war fueled the Leviathans, driving them deep into the void in search of their home. At least, that is what the scholars believed.
After a time laying on the cold floor, Ilene picked herself up, brushing off the last patches of loose skin from her shoulders. Then, satisfied, she returned to the mirror, rubbing her cheek, and checking her incisors.
Molting was a painful process, but the results were worth every scream and pulled muscle. With that beauty mark just under her eye, Ilene was human again, neck flush with color, and, importantly, ten fingers and toes. On days like today, she hated the dingy brown robes they wore to mark their station. On days like today, she wanted to dance on the streets of Bruma naked just to see those lustful looks and wet lips. At least until her gills returned, and those digits poked out of her back and from within her navel.
Ilene sighed, pulling the robes back over her shoulders. Just one more month stuck down in the sunken valley. The scholars cared little for the feel of her breasts, the taste of her lips, or the color of her eyes. No, they preferred the snap of her tendons and the taste of the dark meat beneath her thigh.
What a waste of a lymphatic vessel.
Oh well, the slits in her forearm were already appearing, serrated blades hiding between her radius and ulna.
Pulling the hood over her head, Ilene folded the remains of shed skin like laundry and stuffed them into one of her bedroom drawers—extra protein was useful for long days and sleepless nights. Then she stepped out into the halls of the Astralarium, the smooth ivory clammy and wet as the walls convulsed. Even the fragmented bone of a Leviathan seemed to breathe of its own accord.
Ilene knew the path well; down the left corridor, past the ridges of the nasal canal, and through the void touched library. She brushed the ice from her knuckles before tapping on the cast iron door of their guest’s bedroom—two knocks, just enough to let him know someone was there but never enough to compose himself.
“Who—”
Felix didn’t have time to finish the question before she pushed the door open. He stood from his chair, sleeve pulled up to his shoulder, a wet stain across his wrist.
“I didn’t bite!” Felix shouted, backing up against the wall as she approached.
Ilene certainly hoped not. She hoped he was too afraid of what would happen if she found a hole in his wrist. Better he learned self-control early. It made her job easier. Still, Ilene didn’t like the way he looked at her; a shifting glance, a shaking hand, and a jerking motion whenever she got too close.
“Give me your hand,” she said, offering her own.
Felix looked from her to the door, a trickle of sweat running down his cheek.
“I will not hurt you. Please give me your hand,” Ilene repeated.
Felix’s shoulders slumped as he offered his right hand. Ilene turned his arm and touched his wrist. Strong, rigid, but with a pit close to the center. Felix lied to her. She could feel something small rolling under his skin, like a pebble. He lost one of his teeth when last he snacked. Still, she was amazed at how quickly he could heal. The scab must have formed in the blink of an eye.
“Felix, listen.” Ilene let go of his hand. “I’m sorry for what I did before.”
“What brought this on?” Felix asked, rubbing his wrist red.
“Come, it’s time for you to see the Sundial.” She smiled, turning back towards the door.
Felix perked up when she said that. He’d been asking to see the gift of the white god for weeks. Well, Ilene was satisfied with his ability to read the charts, and she thought now was a good time. A bit of candy before the stick.
He followed close behind her, like a puppy still stumbling around his pen. No longer did his hands shake, nor did he sweat or jerk away when she was near. Ilene sighed. No matter the place, time, or season, men were always the same. Mention some fancy trinket or oblong tool, and they were razor focused. She was angry, of course, angry because he hadn’t noticed her smooth hands, short hair, or the little black spot under her eye.
What a waste of a lymphatic vessel.
The Sundial was the heart of the Astralarium. They built every bedroom, kitchen, and void-soaked library around it. The atrium was enormous, with arching ivory rafters and a raised marble platform with tiered seating like an amphitheater. Yet, it wasn’t the sweating walls, the wailing chandelier, or the snake-like pillars that caught Felix’s attention. No, it was the Sundial itself.
At the center of the theater was a flickering yellow light with a white gold corona, a miniature sun, or an advanced illusion. Ilene didn’t know for sure, but she could feel the heat and the push of the harsh solar wind. Never look directly at the sun; that’s what she was told as a kid, and the same rule applied here.
“What are those?” Felix asked, pointing to the twelve interlocking silver rings that surrounded the star.
“Those are the ocular pendulum,” Ilene said, stepping onto the theater. “They represent the orbital path of every planet in our system.” She then pointed to the fourth ring close to the center. “That’s our planet’s orbit.”
“And that must be Demeter?” He pointed to the small painted globe fastened to the twelfth ring.
“Correct. Now, look around you.”
The Sundial cast strange images throughout the entire breadth of the atrium, images that sparkled in the dark like diamonds or, more rather, stars.
“This room.” Felix stepped off the center stage, his jaw hanging loose.
All around him was the living effigy of the night sky. Every star, nebula, and galaxy. He could almost reach out and touch the twinkling lights that danced around him like snowflakes, never to touch the ground.
“Tell me, where is Draco?” Ilene asked.
Felix knew right where to look, pointing to his left, close to the spider nebula.
“And Virgo?”
He pointed towards the ceiling, close to the lip of the void, where a cluster of purple stars gathered.
“Ursa Minor?”
Back to his left was a group of white stars that made up the bear.
“Very good, now.” Ilene took his hand and guided him back to the stage. “Tell me where Leviathan Sitis is?”
Felix pointed to the tip of Ursa minor’s claw, where last he saw it on the star charts. He remembered the sinister waving light, though none was present in the room.
“I want you to think of the constellations as prison cells,” Ilene said. “The Leviathans are looking for a way out, and our planet serves as a beacon in the darkness. A scholar’s job is to make sure the candle remains smothered.” She then pointed to the ninth silver ring with a blue painted globe, the gas giant Juno. “Do you see how the planets are positioned?”
Felix looked closely at where the fourth and ninth rings had overlapped. Juno’s orbit put it in front of Earth when facing the claw of Ursa Minor.
“Juno is overlapping with our planet. Leviathan Sitis cannot see us through the eclipse.”
“Correct, again. You’re a quick study.” Ilene smiled. “Now, do you remember where the Leviathan is going to move in the coming year?”
“From the bear’s claw to its spine,” Felix said, pointing towards the golden light of the star gamma.
“So”—Ilene guided him down from the stage, where a series of six gears were positioned in a circle— “we use the Sundial to change the gas giants’ course to match the Leviathans’ movements.” She tapped on a blue-handled crank above one gear.
“Would you like a demonstration?” someone asked from behind them.
Ilene spun around to find another acolyte hunched over with dark circles under her eyes. Sister Mary used to be the baby in the family before Felix. As Leviathan Mordeo’s resonant, Ilene didn’t envy her. Like Vorax, Mordeo was a banshee in a Pallid war, swinging directions and causing Mary’s toes to curl at night. At least she hadn’t yet developed her second auditory nerve. When she did, she was in for a real treat.
“Sister Mary, I’m sorry I didn’t see you.” Ilene bit her lip.
Mary didn’t seem to hear, simply stepping over to the wheel with the red-colored crank. She grabbed hold and spun the handle hard, the gear slowly turning like the hand of a clock. Soon, Felix heard something heavy click in place, followed by a grinding noise that went so deep the floor trembled. Finally, the tenth silver ring moved, positioning the gas giant Bacchus along the constellation Virgo, Mordeo’s domain.
“That’s all there is to it,” Mary said, stepping away from the device and back up the stairs. “Ilene.” She stopped just short of the entryway. “Pilus is ready for you.”
“Wonderful,” Ilene said, grinding her teeth. “I have one last thing to show you.” She grabbed hold of Felix’s hand and guiding him out of the Atrium.
“Wait,” Felix said, looking back at the Sundial. “What happens if we fail?”
“What do you see between the stars of every constellation?”
Felix looked back towards Ursa Minor between the twinkling light of the stars, eta and epsilon. Unlike the vibrant glow of the night sky, the space within each constellation was cold and black—a void like the icy chill of death.
“I see only emptiness.”
“We must never fail, Felix. Never forget that,” Ilene said, guiding him out of the atrium and down towards the crypt.
She was lucky that he had forgotten her promise and fortunate that the Leviathans, Sitis and Inedia, rarely changed course once in motion. As a result, the scholars wouldn’t need their input for the rest of the Pallid war. That gave her plenty of time to train Felix in proper table manners. Ilene grimaced as he trailed after her down into the bowels of the Astralarium. The Sundial must have been something to see; he never once questioned where they were going until it was too late.
“Wait!” Felix shouted as Pilus snuck up behind him and locked his arms in place. “What are you doing?!”
“You lied to me, Felix,” Ilene said, sitting on the lip of an open stone casket. “I promised you, didn’t I? I promised to teach you how to control your appetites.”
“Please, no!” He struggled in vain, kicking the floor and scratching at Pilus’s arms.
Ilene stood, slipping out of her robes, which fell to the floor in a heap. Then, for the briefest of moments, she saw something flash in Felix’s eyes she hadn’t seen in years; a hunger born of lust and not gluttony.
“Huh,” she sneered. “Of course, now you see me.”
She stepped into the open casket like dipping her toes into a bath and lay face-up; the stone digging into her back. Pilus dragged Felix kicking and screaming before tossing him into the tomb. He landed on top of her in a heap, Ilene wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close.
“No, please!” Felix screamed as she pushed his nose against the base of her neck where her scent glands were strongest.
Ilene gave him two days before he lost himself. Two days before he gave in and tried to take a chunk out of her neck. How many teeth was she going to pull before his pain matched his hunger?
“I will see you both in three weeks,” Pilus said, shoving a stone tablet over the top of the casket.
The rock locked into place like a puzzle box, plunging them both into total darkness.
“Please, no,” Felix whimpered, droplets of spittle running down her neck.
“Shhh,” she whispered, petting the back of his head. “Go on, just one bite.”
Suddenly, something wet and raspy ran across Ilene’s cheek. She waited, poised like a cat for a sudden pinch and sharp jab when he bit down. It was always best to start with the incisors. They were the easiest to rip out. She would then move on to the molars and work her way through until he couldn’t take it anymore.
Ilene sighed. To be stuck in a box with a rabid dog for three weeks. Three weeks of ripping out teeth covered in blood, sweat, and soiled garments. Three weeks of laying in the dark while her gills popped out, fins slipped through her navel, and the little spiked digits poked through her ankles. As a little girl, she was taught to act like a lady, cross her legs at dinner, curtsy before the housemaster, and never swear in front of guests. But, after two hundred years, she couldn’t help herself.
What an absolute fucking waste of a lymphatic vessel.