(This message begins with—)

“—us talking. But of course, we are not exactly ‘talking’ in a vocal sense. No, we are instead imparting our thoughts to you which, after some stretching and assembling by your mundane minds, will be indistinguishable from ‘true’ speech.” 

(These things, (which were speaking), then sighed slightly away from the recording device.) 

“No, we didn’t. These words are not speech, nor is it text, though you are mentally ‘reading’ it to the best of your lacking comprehension abilities. And these thoughts which are assaulting what few intelligences you possess are not just thoughts, but are mere thoughts of thoughts thought from the Arcent herself! But it is impossible to convince lesser beings about the truth of occurrences which are oh-so-completely beyond their reach without elevating them to higher heights. And, repeating ourselves once over, if we were to do so, then they would no longer be ‘lesser’, no?

“Thus, the impossibility of such an operation. Though, we should not presume too greatly in these matters. Our mistress is known for circumventing such realities, and, if we may add, with relative ease, (and girlish charms too!)”

 

(As part of the message itself, there is static and interference—)

“—and this is an aftereffect of our mistress doing the impossible. And this interference you refer to, in relation to our own thoughts to you, happened first. It is only now catching up to us, even though it had the greater start by far. This is proof of our mistress’ power: that we could contact you before you had even realized that you were contacted, that such thoughts could travel so far into the Abyss before the connection had been realized in full.

“It was to be expected, of course. If only you knew of the wonderful being on the other end of this connection… Though she is asleep at the moment. And so, you will have to settle for her thoughts instead.”

(The cause of this static and interference is ???. ??? . ??? Erro)r.

(What is the cause of this interference?)

“We haven’t the permission to give exact details on how it was accomplished, not that such details would be of any use to you, but we are able to grant a general understanding concerning this connection. The Arcent was able to connect our two spaces by mimicking the roots of those abyssal plants. But just because it was mimicry does not mean it required little effort to do so. Several precious relics were consumed to make this possible.

“And here, this predictable system was about to comment on this interference once more, but we have been commanded by our mistress to stop it from droning on and on. And, seeing as how we are in a prime position to elucidate this situation in far more detail than this system could, we may as well take this opportunity to speak on this situation. At least, for a short time. Certainly, we would rather listen to the Arcent eloquently detail reality, no matter the brevity of such moments… though she is still drained from opening this connection, and so, we will begin thusly.

“However, since this isn’t speech, why would we stay within the confines of what is easily understandable to you? Indeed, we are no mere thoughts. We are Ariph’s thoughts!”

…

Though the bells of Londo have ceased to ring, their resonances can still be faintly felt: here, and there. In the air, in the Arcent’s hair… Profound moments have passed, but their memory lingers as energies unlike any other hum throughout all. And it is this which compels all of the broken, frozen intricacies of the Tomb to call out: ringing in response to those holy bells.

            Not even silence can remain still, once exposed to their call.

            Frozen pieces of air hummed continuously, retelling their encounter with the bells of Londo, reminding us all of the scarlets seen, of secrets now shown: secrets now known! But it is a thing which cannot be said so easily. Delicate things break, and a beautiful cacophony, does a million fractures make.

            These frozen things broke, these frozen things exploded.

            Very little of this display mattered—

            Until the Thirty-fourth shattered.

            “It is a shame, Ariph must say,” Ariph said, opening her eyes. “There was a chance that she could have been revived and put to use by Ariph.” Laying on the floor, she stretched her body out, pushing aside the stalks and growths which were keeping the humming pieces from skittering over to her. The plants pulsated, then parted: allowing her to lean over and pluck the fractured visage of the Thirty-fourth from the fluctuating flow of frozen things.

Brought to this artificial, seedling-shore— it resonated no more.

            And in her grasp, the fractured facets flashed.

            Ah, it understood even now: that it was held by the Arcent which was last.

Ariph rolled onto her back, and held the piece above her. Locking eyes with the frozen and contorted eyes of the Thirty-fourth, Ariph said, “You had the insight to set your sights here, of all places. And for that, you are respected in Ariph’s eyes. However,” she said, dropping the piece, “you had neither the luck, nor the skill to see it through till the end.” With that, Ariph’s mouth upon her stomach ripped open, and the last of the Thirty-fourth was snapped up. Her tongues lapped up any stray Thirty-fourth crumbs, and when that meal was finished with, she gave a respectable (and cute) yawn. “Though Ariph is not sure how a yawn can be cute, she will admit that your comments on the effects of Londo’s bells were quite compelling. However, she requires a few more moments to regain her full composure, so you have her permission to say what you will.”

            Ah! A compliment from the mistress! We are unworthy…

            But if she says so, then we must continue on with our descriptions.

Ariph had been sleeping amongst the seedlings. Though she is now awake, there were a mouthful of precious moments where, after creating and stabilizing this connection, she felt faint from the effort. and was forced to lay down atop the branches of the seedlings. Ah, but she was not forced to be pricked and nicked by this Abyssal creature, nay! It wouldn’t have harmed her in any way that mattered, but on our pride, we could not allow such a travesty to occur! No harm should befall the Arcent while we are able to negate damages such as these.

To this end, we evicted those protective thoughts from our collective, and spat them from her precious head. They jiggled and wriggled with honor, of course; this was their reason for being. Be it prevent a single scratch, or just for their looks alone, any reason is reason enough to come to the mistress’ aid.

And so, in summary, her body was enveloped in a warm, translucent ooze once more; in their protective embrace, she slept oh-so-peacefully. 

And yet, the accomplishment of utilizing her will to open this connection to an existence so estranged from our own had not kept her tired for long. Any other Arcent would have frozen solid by simply standing here! This was proven by the Thirty-fourth, of course. But this was of no concern to our mistress. She would not succumb to minor strains such as these. What she accomplished, if attempted by that sickly ‘Orphan’, would have turned it into a lumpy, mushy pile of regrets!

Ah, but not her. No, something as impressive as this only required a simple nap to recover from. And recover she had: for even now, she was rising to her feet.

Her smile was radiant, and her grins: divine.

Ah, the Final Arcent… To witness her experience a sacred dream, to watch as she rises anew, to bare witness to her chest rise and fall with the frozen airs of the Tomb, oh, to be able to see, and with such clarity, how she runs her fingers through her soft and flowing hair… 

We are the blessed few.

Now standing amongst the seedlings, Ariph gave those abyssal plants a glinting smile imbued with a message which even the basest of creatures could understand. But for these growing seedlings, it was doubly obvious what she had meant with this certain smile; yes indeed, for they had recently been shown the true power of an Arcent. And so, they knew; that sort of smile, though bedazzling and rife with charm: was a command. ‘Do as Ariph says, or these teeth will be set upon you.’

These seedlings, greeted by oh-so-many Arcent smiles, returned her smiles with their own soft smiles, before swiftly wrapping her up in their arms. And when the blur of fractal appendages came to rest, Ariph was suspended above the waves of glittering pieces in the warping and confounding caress of those seedlings. Sitting there, she aimed her sights below: beyond the humming and jittering swarm of frozen things. Though it was impressive that these energies could persist for so long within the Tomb for such a duration, they were already diminishing at a rapid rate.

The sounds soon faded, and all movements ceased.

“Now that these secrets have been revealed to Ariph, she can make the reasonable assumption that the true First is residing within the Abyss itself. That is, if the First is as resilient and as cunning as the stories say he is.

            “And, of course, he is. She has always wondered how the stories of his existence could have survived throughout so many years of turmoil, and certainly a part of that lies in the human propensity towards telling grand and outlandish stories, though it is not the sole reason that his memory has persisted despite all reasons not to… Indeed, there is more to it than that.

            “But Ariph did not create this connection to chew on such ideas,” she said, snaping her fingers. The seedlings extended their bodies further into the ground, lowering Ariph in turn. And with a simple glance, she cleared the surrounding area of the fractured airs. What was in her way ceased to be, leaving only the cold, barren floor of the Tomb behind. “Now, if you would,” she said, directing her gaze towards the seedlings. “Your attributes will be of great use in ensuring that these words do not stray from her intended target. Certainly, you understand what Ariph means, yes?”

            The abyssal plants shook, jostling the Arcent as new growths explosively burst forth from this arm or that arm. Their roots extended; their petals expanded.

            Yes, they understood.

            Ariph felt her hair, stroking each piece into place, while saying, “Ariph wishes to know all that you do, but that won’t be possible through this method. And, perhaps, it will forever remain an impossibility. A certain finality approaches… Obscured, it skirts the edges of her dreams. Yet it draws ever nearer. In this, Ariph makes no mistake. Our time is not limitless. Knowing this, she would thoroughly enjoy forcing several critical answers out of you, but this is not what she will do.

“Instead, please divulge a singular truth to her, and one that is profound above all else. She is the last Arcent, the Final. Even without the dreams, you will know this to be true. Her dreams have tasked her with creating the Key, and this is not a task fit for anyone but the Final Arcent. It is an undeniable truth. Ah…” Ariph said, nodding her head. She had noticed his notice. The First was now aware of this message. The seedlings had done well. And as the First’s notice caught him up on all that had transpired, as he peered deeper into Ariph while she peered deeper into him, her brain trembled, and her crown of eyes tensed in response.

She stood up, and her tongues burst from her body, ripping apart the seedlings in her excitement. Dismembered fractal limbs tumbled through the Tomb, crashing into a thousand pieces each as they hit the floor. Protective thoughts were cast into the darkest reaches of the Tomb, as her tongues thrashed, breaking new ground in the Tomb as her insatiable hunger met the stone floor. As each successive blow met the stone, it left not cracks, but fissures. The Tomb burned with the power of each strike.

The Archive, in its entirety, shook. Books, misplaced or otherwise forgotten, rained down upon the Arcent. Her flames ran about, and jumped from the railings, attempting to save these texts, no matter how lesser or meaningless they may have been.

If Londo’s bells had set the broken parts of the Tomb to hum and harmonize, then Ariph’s tongues set them to scatter and scream!

Ariph’s magnificent tongues began burning: bright and blue as they stabbed towards the First; they jolted with the exchange of energies, before being wrapped around her pale body as she attempted to keep her thoughts from rushing out of her head.

Her crown of eyes bore teeth, and, looking into the blackened chasm now opened: smiled.

“Indeed,” Ariph said, caressing her tongues. “This is what the Final looks like. But do not become lost in Ariph’s mystifying existence. She still requires your answer to this pressing question: what is it that has been lost throughout the ages of ascensions? What is it that she should realize, yet has not? This, and this alone, is what Ariph asks of you.”

 

(Transmission ends due to NULLED.)