It awakens from nothingness; a mote of existence in this place, like a drop of water in an empty lakebed. It has only now begun to know sensation, and is immediately able to tell that it cannot feel any.
The mind swirls. It roils as a foggy rapid within the form that has been taken.
Suddenly, a noise brings the vesselâs senses to attention.
âVessel⌠*COUGH* Come here.â
A voice. It beckons, and the vessel has no inclination not to follow.
The figure in front of the vessel dwarfs it, though the vessel is not afraid. Instead, it feels a pang of pity.
âWhere am I?â
The question spills from the vessel, unable to be held back.
The gargantuan figure answers. âYou are in a plane outside of the physical world. Where things come from when they are born.â
The vessel fails to comprehend the answerâs whole meaning, but feels somewhat satisfied regardless. Nevertheless, the questions continue. âWho⌠am I? What am I?â
The figure sighs, before hacking out another booming cough.
âYou are an empty husk, which I have granted life. Your creator worked so much love into your form, but in the end, you were abandoned. The magic inside of you was getting to be so advanced, but it was not allowed to flourish,â it says.
The vessel takes a moment to think.
 âWhy have you chosen me, if I was abandoned already?â Its voice seems to waver.
The figure shudders another terrible cough, taking a moment to regain its composure. It reaches out a hand to the vessel, lifting it to its face.
âThis will go quicker if I direct the conversation.â
It takes a breath, almost to steel its nerves, before continuing.
âThe long and short of it is that I am dying. My life has been cut short, and when I pass, the current era will come to an end. Most will die. The rest will struggle, tooth and nail. It will be the end times.â
The vessel takes a moment to comprehend the enormity of the statement. âAm I⌠meant to save you?â
The vesselâs question is answered with another labored sigh from the enormous figure.
âNo... No, I simply wanted to create life one last time before I disappear. I suppose I took pity upon you,â the figure explains.
âMy only task for you⌠*COUGH* *COUGH* âŚis to live. This is a second chance at life for you. Learn what it means to live. You are my final work: my magnum opus.â
The vessel feels an immense pressure.
âWhat if I disappoint you?â
The figure gently chuckles.
âYou wonât.â
Another question emerges from the vessel.
âWhy have you given me life when I will so soon pass away in your wake?â
The figure winces. If it has nerves, one seems to have been struck.
âI am sorry that your life is defined by such circumstances. Truly. All I can say is to be grateful for the day you would not have had if I had raised you to life tomorrow.â
The vesselâs mind spins, so many more questions waiting to be asked, but it appears that its time here has run out.
âThe door of life is finally calling your name, vessel.â
The vessel sees it: an enormous door, etched of marble and light, calling the vessel inside.
âMy name⌠My name! What is my name?â
The figure indulges the vesselâs final question.
âArma! Your name is Arma!â
And with this last revelation, the void closes around Arma. Slowly, the inky darkness is replaced with a corporeal darkness. Reality takes hold, and Armaâs body stirs. Her body.
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Arma stands to scan the room. Itâs terribly dark, only lit with various glowing tubes woven into the spaces between ceiling and wall. Sheâs surrounded by various objects and storage containers, struggling to cope with the jump from a world of absence to this crowded reality.
âŚ
Was that placeâthat voidâreal? Was it just a dream?
Her head spins as she tries to find an exit. Where is she? What is this place? She must confer with a person!
A personâŚ
Where has all this knowledge of the world come from? How is she walking, thinking, conceptualizing like a fully formed person? Was she only just born? Or had she lived a life before now? And who made her?
âŚWho abandoned her?
She shovels aside barrels, boxes, and other strange items in her way in pursuit of an escape route.
Suddenly, her search ends, as she finds a doorway. Her hand leaps to the handle, only hesitating for a moment before swinging wide the door.
Outside, she sees a hallway, wrought of more metallic walls and buzzing lights. Doors abound down the tunnel.
She feels somethingâsomeoneâtap her shoulder.
âHey. Whatâs with your suit?â asks an armor-clad figure behind her.
She yelps in surprise before turning around to greet them.
âHello! Iâm Arma! Where am I?â Arma asks, innocently.
The personâs head tilts, just a touch.
âWhat were you doing in that cargo room?â
âOh, justâŚâ
She is at a loss. With no context of this personâs station, she has no idea how to act.
âJust⌠chilling.â
The armored figureâs posture stiffens, as they look to Armaâs belt.
âHey! Are youâŚcargo?!â they ask, now yelling.
Arma reflexively tears the tag off of her belt.
âNo, Iâm Arma!â she answers.
âŚ
The armored figure reaches to their side and brandishes a strange device, which sparks with electricity as they press a button on the handle.
âI donât know what you are, or why the hell theyâve got something like this in the cargo hold, but I think you should turn around and walk back into that room.â
Arma quickly realizes the dynamic between her and this guard.
They step menacingly toward Arma, and a surge of courage bubbles up from her core. Sheâs not going back in that room!
She dashes to the side in an attempt to escape, but she is caught in the hip by the guard's electric wand, which unleashes a bright jolt of sparking energy.
To Armaâs surprise, this seems to have no effect on her. The guard stands back, shocked by the deviceâs ineffectiveness, but quickly engages in pursuit as Arma belts down the steel corridor. Where is the exit? She has to escape this place!
She looks for a door that doesnât lead to another cramped cargo room. Eventually, the hallway ends, as she sees a heavy double door before her. She looks at the confusing interface next to it, feeling despair wash over her, but as if granting her wish, the door opens on its own.
Her heart sinks as another guard appears behind the opened doorway.
The guard pursuing her from behind yells out, âCATCH IT! Itâs escaped cargo!â
The person in this large steel chamber scrambles for another electric wand, but Arma is faster. She dashes through the doorway, grabs them by the arm and tosses them back through the doorway.
The guards collide into each other, falling onto the floor. They clamber to their feet as Arma hurriedly looks around the room for a way out. The guards rush toward her, electric wands in hand, but are interrupted as the steel doors shut in front of them.
Arma centers herself, taking a moment to catch up to the present. What should she do? Is she stuck here? She stares at the button interface, unsure which button could seal her fate, or which one could get her out. Not like thatâs any better than this steel trap, with the guards standing at the ready outside.
Suddenly, Armaâs prayers are answered as a button lights up on the panel. Just a moment laterâŚ
âŚthe steel chamber jolts upwards. Armaâs mind races. Where is she going now?!Â
âŚ
After a few tense moments, the chamberâs movement slows to a halt.
As the doors open, Arma sees a single person, in the same armored suit, but without a helmet on. His eyes make contact with her visor, and he looks down to his suit before double-taking back at Arma, noticing that she is not one of him.
Arma leverages the element of surprise and rushes past him, as he turns towards her in confusion. Suddenly, a gemstone socketed in the back of his gauntlet yells a command in a familiar voiceâthat of the guard who pursued Arma below the surface.
âATTENTION! A PRESUMED STOWAWAY HAS ESCAPED FROM CARGO FACILITY H-2! SUSPECT IS WEARING A METAL SUIT OF ARMOR, JUST BELOW 7 FEET TALL. CAPTURE AND ARREST IMMEDIATELY!â
The guard turns toward Arma, with newfound intention. Arma would gulp if she had a throat, and continues her escape.
She runs through the street, relieved as she can finally see a sky above her. Brassy buildings tower high into it, crowded and utilitarian architecture making up the world around her. The city is dotted with trees and greenery, but only sparsely. What makes up much more of its volume than that seems to be its citizens, who are walking the street en masse as Arma barrels past them. When she arrives at a larger crowd, she spews apologies as she shoves past the surprised pedestrians, spotting a group of guards gathering behind her. The crowd gets so dense that she can hardly see them anymore, when suddenlyâŚ
Someone grabs her hand, pulling her into an alleyway on the side of the road. She hears the officers rush through the crowd, past the dingy corridor she has been sequestered into. Awash with surprise and relief, she looks at the person who saved her.
She looks down to see a scrawny, well-dressed man. His hair is slicked back and shiny, and his face is adorned with two jagged sideburns. He looks up to her with a wry smile as he speaks.
âClose one, huh? Looks like youâre in trouble with the AG? Iâve been there.â
His words slip out of his mouth like a snakeâs flickering tongue. He rolls a gemstone between his fingers, identical to the one set in the previous guardâs gauntlet, and returns it to his pocket.
âStowaway, was it? Wouldnât want word getting around about that, would we, big guy?â he inquires.
Arma shakes her head fervently.
âNo way! I just woke up and I donât want to go back there!â she responds.
The manâs eyebrows lower, and his smile widens.
âWell, Iâm cool. I wouldnât rat on you⌠unless I had a reason to.â
Arma shivers.
âNo, no! Donât tell anyone, please!â she whispers.
The man leans against the wall, pulling a small brass tube out from his pocket.
âI think I could keep quiet, if I had the right incentive. Something to the tune of⌠20 wings?â He chuckles as he brings the tube up to his lips.
Armaâs head tilts, like a dog that doesnât understand a command.
âWings?â she asks.
The manâs eyebrow twitches as he puffs a plume of sparkling, indigo smoke out from his mouth.
âYeah, man. Wings? Money? Dough?â he prods.
Armaâs hands twitch awkwardly. The man clearly wants something, but⌠she doesnât have⌠anything!
âSorry, I donât have anything on me. Wings, you said? Got none of thoseâŚâ she answers.
The man sighs, clearly frustrated, as he flicks the side of the tube between his fingers. âDamn it, and my leaker just ran out. Figures a stowaway would be broke.â He pinches his brow, thinking for a moment. âAlright, whatever. Called my bluff. Welcome to the Atlas,â he mutters.
Arma perks up in relief. âThe Atlas? Is that where we are?â she asks excitedly.
The man looks back to her, even more confused. âWhat the hell was your plan when you snuck on here, if you donât even know where we are?â he asks.
âI donât know! I have no memory of anything before waking up in that room,â she explains, before remembering⌠âOh, right. I also had, like, a vision of⌠some god? Theyâre the one who raised me to life, I think.â
The man glares at Arma in disbelief.
âOkay, I think Iâm going to head out. Creeping me out, dude,â he says.
Arma retorts, âWait! I need to tell you something!â as she grabs his arm.
His expression twists with a dash of discomfort and fear. âHey! Hands of the goods, pal!â
Arma continues, oblivious in the face of the manâs discomfort. âI think, according to what the god said, the world might be ending? End times, they called it?â
The man wrenches his arm from Armaâs hand.
âAlright, Iâm actually going to pay YOU to leave me the hell alone,â he says, as he reaches into his pocket and shoves some slips of shiny parchment into Armaâs hand.
He dashes out of the alley and into the shimmering city before Arma can catch up with him. She looks down into her hand, bewildered by the encounter.
âThese are "wings"âŚ? I shouldnât have these! These are his!â she thinks to herself. âI scared him so badâŚâ
Suddenly, her mind is made up.
âI have to find him, and return these wings to him!â