the composition of a falling star

[Florian]

FLORIAN

34 Searing 122 - 11:22 AM

There was neither the time nor inclination to consider the changes that had befallen Florian. He felt different, but he could not consider this frame of reference from before as he made his way through the crater of what was once his mother's neighborhood. It was vaporized beyond recognition, though the chunks of rubble grew bigger as he left the immediate blast zone and came to the edges. It was an exercise in panic and climbing, and if there had been survivors from when he had initially drank the vial, there was not a chance that they had survived him hurtling back like a meteor.

It was difficult to ascertain where the blast radius ended. Horror filled him as his vision was clouded with the aethereal fog, only for it to reveal crumbling aetherite statues of what were once people. He could not spend his time in despair for the destruction he had caused, even if he wished to do so — and he climbed over the steel beams of a crumbled tenement, he stood and surveyed what he could see.

There was a rift pouring dread mists like a waterfall. The severity and sheer destruction of the fog was unmistakable. He had created the tear in the sky, a gash into the Aetherium, and it was with his fall that it only grew worse. The outright physical destruction lessened as he looked further into the city, towards the river and towards... the Hobbled Gobbler. Franky was too dear to him to suffer such a fate, though he did not know if he could survive it.

It was only then that Florian realized he was, so far, unaffected by the destruction of the mists. It was also only then that he could feel himself thrumming with the power of full aether stores — and that he noticed the attention of mutated creatures, visible among the crumbled rubble below his perch turn to him.

Florian felt an unusual surge of energy in himself. The full effects of what had happened felt more like a dream than reality, but he was now forced to confront the full brunt of what he had done and what had been done to him. What he had claimed from that dragon — whom could only be a god, who had shown him so much love despite this devastation —

A creature with too many heads and massive claws wrenched through Florian's train of thought. He reacted with a shield at the last second, wrought even through the anti-magic of his aura. He was not ready to die yet. The beast shattered the shield, and in the split-second allowed, Florian retaliated with a blast of pure aether, far stronger than he had intended. What was once most likely a person contorted into monster now had a large hole clean through its body, and the Lysanrin sprinted past as it collapsed.

But something was wrong — his legs were not the same as he was used to, too long now — and he tripped on cracked brick. His hands were scraped from his fall, and as he inspected the welling blood and burning palms, he noticed his scars. Each and every one, filled with metallic gold, much like the resin that had repaired his horn.

He did not spend much time thinking about it. It was too difficult to see the direction towards the Hobbled Gobbler, but he picked a direction and ran. From the few survivors so close to the starfall he could hear the screams. He had no time to sit and despair, and despite the attention that he seemed to draw from the warped creatures, he started to search, trying to find and help anyone he could.

The first was a woman, seemingly unchanged by the mists but cornered by the mutated form of her young child in an alleyway, deformed and stretched with too many eyes and teeth while a tattered gingham dress clung to its body. Florian willed out the aether he was still powered with and cleaved the creature with the magic summoned from his fingertips, blood splattering the woman and soaking the floor. The woman he had attempted to save simply screamed louder, absolute terror in her eyes as she sprinted past him, further into the mists.

[Paragon]

P A R A G O N

“My, my, my, you never cease to amaze.” His voice cut through the screams as Florian rounded the corner. Standing at the end of the street was a man in a pristine white lab coat. His face was shadowed but the figure was unmistakable. He pushed his glasses further up on his nose. Looking at Florian was none other than Dr. Phinneas Constantine. He smiled brightly, tucking both hands into the pockets of his lab coat, utterly unconcerned with the madness that was unfolding in the world around him.

“It has been some time, Mr. Albrecht. I must say, it has been marvelous to watch your meteoric rise to political prominence and fame.” He chuckled softly, tilting his head as he observed Florian a bit more closely from behind his glasses.

“I am curious, where do you intend to go from here? How can you outrun this devastation? Will you even try?” He smiled. “Never an end to the fascinating doors you open, Mr. Albrecht.”

[Florian]

Florian stopped in his tracks. Before he could even realize who he was looking at, the scars that marked his body from the intensive research the good Doctor Constantine performed on him throbbed with pain. He stared back, silent for a few moments, while chaos unfolded around them.

Hadn't there been promises of punishment? Of destruction? How could he have forgotten to ensure they were followed through?

His eyes narrowed. "What the fuck are you doing here? How did you even find me?" He yelled backwards, anger and fear overtaking him in equal measure. "Do you not have something more important to do?" He gestured around himself to the horror, but he was otherwise frozen in place, still unable to think properly but for an entirely different reason. He knew he could have tried to kill the doctor then and there. He was stronger now, so much stronger than he had been when he was imprisoned, and now he had a chance to take vengeance.

And he couldn't. He felt helpless in a way that he had never felt since before he had escaped his grasp the first time. He did not feel so helpless when their experiment was released and took his arm. He did not feel so helpless when he escaped to Kalzasi. He did not even feel so helpless when he discovered his mother's murder. He had always been able to act. Except now.

[Paragon]

P A R A G O N

“I never lost you.” Spoken with a smile. Pointed. Direct.

He seemed to consider Florian’s question for a moment before nodding.

“I do. That is perhaps of benefit to you in this circumstance.” There was the tug of a dark smirk on Dr. Constantine’s lips. Behind him, a man was running, panting, screaming to get away from a shambling horror that soon overtook and pounced upon him. Wet screams of a man being ripped limb from limb was soon joined by the crunch of bones as another horrifying monster joined the first. As the two creatures turned their too many eyes upon Florian and the scientist, they lumbered forward. Unconcerned, Dr. Constantine continued speaking.

“If I may offer a bit of advice.” He took a hand out and pushed his glasses up his nose. The creatures loomed over the scientist. Their mutated, hulking forms of odd limbs and grotesque deformities writhing as hands with too many fingers and not enough of them twitched.

“Consider carefully what chains you think to break in the days ahead, young godling.” The creatures moved forward. Dr. Constantine raised a hand as the two beasts came into the alleyway. He gave Florian a bright smile. Turning on his heel, his lab coat was caught in the winds, flapping behind him as he walked past the two horrifying creatures as though they were no more interesting than a piece of stationary in a window. He waved to Florian over his shoulder as he walked. The monstrosities moved aside to allow him to pass, their too many eyes fixed on Florian.

“Tatty-bye, Mr. Albrecht! I do hope you survive. It will make for interesting data to observe.”

Dr. Constantine walked fearlessly into a wall of oncoming Dread Mist and was gone.

The beasts lurched toward Florian, whatever trance held them at bay, broken.

[Florian]

Florian was broken from his paralysis by the murder of the man behind the doctor. But he was distressingly too late to act, and the monsters turned their attention to him, ignoring Constantine entirely. If he had to guess, it may be that they saw him as one of them. Monstrous behavior recognizing monster in the physical. But it was not just that — he walked into the mists, unconcerned. He had changed, even since they had met, and Florian did not want to discover any further exactly what had occurred.

There was also the question of what he meant — on some level, Florian knew that he was no longer mortal. The cosmic dragon was a god, and the fact he had survived and returned to Ransera was because he was, too. He couldn't dwell on how Constantine knew, how Constantine knew so much about him. He needed time to think, but it was not that time.

He was far more terrified of Constantine than the monsters. It turned out that, when allowed to use his magic to its fullest extent, many things that stood in his way could be reduced to nothing but blood, guts, and severed limbs. They didn't seem resistant to magic, or at least, his magic, which was a boon in and of itself. He had come to realize he did not have to expend much of the aether he had stored to destroy them, and he stepped backwards into the alley as they approached. One was faster than the other, and he maneuvered until they lurched towards him in a line.

Another laser-like blast carved a perfect circle through the first monster's center, and even its corrupted form began to collapse on itself, but not before Florian could see that the beast behind it had also been hit. But the second one still grasped towards him as it died, and he took a wide berth as he exited the alleyway. He wanted to find the doctor, but he could not risk the fear again.

Florian could finally see a partially intact street sign. Blown stuck against the pole was the latest issue of the Knob Free Press. He hadn't read the past few papers, and as he approached, he could see that it was dated for just the day before.

The headline was warning of an attack from Kalzasi. Florian stood there, in the mists, his expression contorted in confusion. Somehow they had already knew there was going to be something happening, far before Florian could have guessed. If there was going to be an attack from Kalzasi, it was no longer relevant. No, he was the bomb now. But... safe zones had been prepared. Somehow they had known to be prepared for something. Somehow, they might have been protected from the destruction he had caused. Where he had found the paper was not too far from the Bulge, and Franky's tavern was on the edge. It was across the Knob from his mother's house, and even with a destructive blast such as this, he had hope that the building did not collapse. He folded the newspaper and carried it with him as he ran as fast as he could towards the Hobbled Gobbler.

[Florian]

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