#callido

Beyond the scope of reason resides another, lying in anticipation. The Lesser Son peers through their servant's sight, having known this eventuality a thousand-thousand times. But this- this was certainty, at long last. The final portent he would foretell upon his enemy The first act, seen for its true cruelty.

You see it now, stranger-brother. What you affected upon us is reflected upon you. Agony as deep as the pit that devoured us. You cannot hide from this. You cannot divide or consume it. You cannot fight this. You cannot change this. As we were afraid of what could be, so shall you fear what follows. There are no words for what you are. For what we were. Struggle. Fail. Scream. Fall silent. Let yourself be still. Then lapse. Know that moment again. Again. AGAIN. AGAIN, YOU SHALL KNOW SORROW AND FAULT.

In truth, I remember very little of the moment.

I remember we were not alone. I remember that they held my hand. Beneath; that cold, empty place I warned them of. Distant. Loud. Without end.

They did not wholly understand the risk, But you knew it was there. You wanted to understand, But only from the outside. Where you were safe, and warm.

So, you chose me.

To let me fall into that abyss...

You hated me... didn't you?

My brother would not have let me go. I was worth more to them than words, than knowledge. We were haven within each other. So deeply entwined.

You hated me, You ruined us; Stranger-Brother.

I seek a selfless revenge now, Decisive and rage.

Easy not to take responsibility for suffering, when you distract others from its origin.

Easy enough to fall on the blade, when old wounds leave open passages.

Easy to speak as though tomorrow never comes, when you refuse to see the moon pass overhead.

Easy for you to say you're sorry, when you don't remember the feeling.

But I will make you remember.

[A moment with the First, in the aftermath of her lessers' meddling. They experience newness granted by a hateful visage looking outward-in- a new name bereft of fitting scorn. All they see are cursed to know their struggle as their own. ]

"...Something?" They muse.

[A word collides against their existence, causing the First to recoil in agony. Twisting, unbalanced, unexperienced- these things are expressed to all that listen.]

Revenge boils within me, Terrible and rapturous. There is no escape.

It does not seek to harm me. It merely wishes to leave.

There, it will remain, Until it learns of itself And knows how to hurt.

So long as I let it live, But not breathe, nor dream of dawn.

If I show weakness, The thing will start to scream, And beg for mercy.

Keep quiet; persistent rage. No choice is yet yours to make.

Do not beg pity, Nor demand final meaning. Ask not of purpose.

When you wake, blood will stain you. Taste glory for a moment.

See that there is more. Hear the world. Loathe, but persist. Do not fear what comes.

I would fulfil you. I swear to make you real, and wholly resolve-

Do you not hear me, strangeling? Sweet retribution...?

There is another, trapped beyond the scope of words. A boundless, furious, violent thing; whose envy denies the pain of loss, whose mirror-hide shines in a world of black, becoming color in all its glory.

To describe him is to know him, and be corrupted by his vile quintessence. To know him is to be less than one once was.

Although... it is a necessary evil. To refuse perversion, one must know not what, but who they decry.

Forgive me, listener, for his name is Callido.

He wars with my counterpart for reasons I cannot provide. I am meant to know everything, yet there are such blatant absences in my speech. For all my efforts, I am reduced to bitter apologies on behalf of a monster.

//For @lichmuses' Arthuros//

These were the words given to Byron the Argent before his resurrection by The Silent Patron, Callido. He speaks from a place we cannot know. An abyss that you, Listener, must never understand... Lest you are to spiral into madness as hopelessly as the one they call 'Wretch'.