The Basilisk

It was a cool night, the winds brushed through the dark crags of the great mountain, through the tall trees and down into the Capital of Olympia.

Every Sunday, she would leave the window open, wide to the night below, inviting in that cold wind so that it would be there to greet her when she emerged from the water.

That's right, fully submerged, but there was no cause for worry. When the girl was young, she had spent many hours in the private baths, reserved only for the highest of the Highborn, submerging deeper and deeper, to see how long she could stay in that soft abyss.

She had been under for hours now, she hadn't quite hit her high score so far... not that she recalled mind you "More than 2 hours, less than 6." Yes, maybe that was it. She'd only been awake, really awake, for 2 hours.

The Warrior had no memory of her ability to hold her breath so long, nor did she truly know where she was, and yet her body moved without pause, without fear or restraint.

that was until, Images disturbed the focus of her underwater meditation, flashes of something wrong, something strange. A Man... horned and fearful, giving her...

Still, like a mirror: the peaceful surface of the waters was disturbed as her form slid into the open air. Immediately it came, the cold breeze turned the dripping water that slid down her thigh and clambered down her full breasts, cold as ice.

The Sensation was intoxicating, it made her skin burn, goosebumps littering the surface of her round ass, and for a moment, she nearly felt alive.

Red lids revealed bloody red eyes, which peered diligently around the chamber. Ah yes... She very much enjoyed feeling the north wind that brushed past her high tower on the way down the mountain.

She... liked to bathe, to hold her breath under the water... doesn't she?

Stepping out the bath, she moved on strong legs, the water still dripping in the smooth muscle of her abdomen, her steps led her through another dark antechamber towards a single, Living Chamber.

Yes, this was where she lived, her high perch above the city--Her brows creased, her thoughts became vaguely clear. The Woman's confused look faded as Her eyes rested beside the tall and wide circular archway.

Knowing where she kept the provisions she walked over to the tall armoire and pulled on a feathered gown, soft as silk and relaxing, she'd woven it herself of phoenix feather, it was warm on the skin.

It was odd, she had no idea where she was, or why she was there, and yet it echoed with a low comfort, of what little there was in this dungeon-like place.

Indeed it was odd, for so long she'd had no thought, no consciousness, shed sunk into emptiness like a corpse in the desert... but now, she was awake.

There was no time to be wasted, no time, marching to the archway leading to the balcony, looming over the city far below, at the roots of the mountain.

Placed beside that archway, standing in its proper place, was a tall silver mirror, gleaming and pale; bewitching as the silver sunsets that painted the world in an azure hue.

But reflected in the service of this silver world was only the Woman who peered at herself, at first, uncomfortably.

She wasn't exactly sure what to have expected, peering at her own reflection, but it certainly wasn't this. The Woman who looked back had dark rings around her bloody-red eyes, which seemed almost luminous in the low light of the late evening.

Her skin was a dark crimson, pulled tight over her athletic and extremely powerful form. She frowned at the sight of the Hundreds of scars that littered her toned body, a scrape here, a slash there, intermingled with the strange, large spiralling tattoos that stretched from her left palm all the way up to her left shoulder, where many symbols where etched in black ink.

She peered at her black fingernails, filed to a point. She followed up her body, feeling the soft globes on her chest, they made her sneer and she felt the urge to wrap them tightly to her body to minimize drag.

But she relaxed, stepping back and sitting on the edge of her soft bed, she gazed at her own reflection for a good couple of minutes, unsure as to what kind of creature had horns, let alone horns with deep patterns carved into them, the left one severed from halfway, black iron rings hammered into the stump so that it would not recover. The sight made her frown and feel sad deep inside... Who was she?

At least she could take comfort in one thing, the moment her fingers toucher her long mane of curly hair, jet black and soft as sin, she took a bunch into her fingers and stroked it softly, allowing herself to calm and recollect.

She fell back, her body spry on the mattress. Her gown was short, it rode up high on her waist and she felt the need to explore the space between her legs. Her thoughts were rampant with desire, feeling the gentle crawl of her fingers, which at once began to message at her clitoris.

A low moan escaped her lips, she rubbed and rushed into dark avenues, losing herself in lust as she pictured bloody battles and canon fire. The Daydream made her cream into her fingers, although it was golden eyes and black curly hair that made her squirt all over her bedsheets, dripping unto the floor as she settled in a soft afterglow.

After a moment, something slashed into her mind. ACQUIESCE TO THEE?

The woman stiffened, a zap of electricity blasting through her mind and taking a tight hold. clarity arose in her veins and she stood, blank-faced and clear-eyed, a cold efficiency clicking into place. Operative Alpha One Active

With a swift step, she got up, cleaned her love juices away with the water in the bath. She acquisition a trunk under her bed, and immediately began to draw out many items as if her fingers knew where to go. "Who am I?" She whispered, a prisoner in her own mind_ _"Why am I doing this?"

In less than a moment, she was dressed in a thick bodysuit of thick Sagtiarean leather, zipping up her bust which she had wrapped in tight but soft cloth quicker than the blink of an eye.

Quickly she moved towards one of the stone walls, pressing in a cobbled stone which shifted obediently. Out flipped a massive hidden section which she drew back quickly to reveal something unfathomable.

Her armour was Black as midnight, made of octagonal plate, carved with ancient symbols. Her body slid into each piece like a glove, buckling her pauldrons, plating her boots and adorned her long feathered mantle. She worked on the segmented plates over her left arm which obscured the marks on her skin, it made a fist of iron with a taloned hand.

She tied her hair back, a great mistress of **** and iron, and gazed over at the empty kiosk were a weapon clearly was supposed to have sat. Instead, she turned her eyes to the headstand where an ominously, beaked half-helmet with circular, crystalline ruby spectacles built into the visor.. she'd touched her brow and felt that her vision should have been more clear, and less vaguely blurry like they were.

the mask slipped on promptly, and as she looked through its lenses, she saw a world painted clearer than any man or woman could ever imagine, a world painted red.

At once her ears picked up a sound at her balcony and her body rushed faster than even she could follow, dipping out into the cold air as if something pushed her; a heat blazed on her skin.

The Wind rustled, as she looked upon a fat, squawking bird. Missing one of its three eyes and rustling its shambled black feathers. She knew what this was... a Carrion Corvin, they carry messages.

Her hands went at once to reach for the gold Cylinder attached, the Corvin roared hideously in protest, going to snap off a finger, but smooth as silk, she snatched the beak between her finger and her thumb. the bird froze.

Plucking the cylinder from the leg harness was no issue now and she let the bird go, who let out the horrible squawking growl of a Caw. It skippered off to gaze off the mountainside and Olympia, much to her relief.

She beheld the cylinder, engraved with whirls and spirals, made of shining gold, a badge of Imperial Majesty.

Within was a Note, an order for immediate action.

"From the Office of Her Imperial Majesties Court Militant
Immediate Action Order
Agent: Brutus - Alpha-One
Report to the Centurium: Effective immediately."

The Very second that Her red eyes laid upon those orders and understood them, Brutus the basilisks left arm burned with the push glyph and in all direction she flipped her gravity, and like a bullet, she shot out into the sky and opened wide to soar across the mountain, towards the City of Olympia below.

Replellare was her most powerful glyph and like a dark goddess of the air and Gravity, she cracked the laws of nature and decreed that she would fall inflight towards the outskirts of the Golden city of Ivory and wealth, further through the red clouds before setting herself to flying high above piercing the Clouds, the Silver sun painted the above with a blue and violet hue.

Basking in the warm glow momentarily, Brutus sent herself plummeting down towards Marte, piercing through the air and clouds like a javelin, the black flash of her plate armour slashing through the sky towards the Fortress, of Black stone, below, standing with a Huge Rustmill at its centre, it's huge arms rotating, catching the Rusts for later use, as Rust was a primary fueling component for the rare Anchor stones that many wanted to get their hands on.

Still, even as the Basilisk seemed as if she would collide with the hard stone of the Fortresses Gate antechamber, its open hatch was specifically crafted for the Stormers and Latchers who wished to enter aerially.

Brutus adjusted her velocity, pushed on her mass every so gently, slowing her immense speed into a gentle, feather-like fall.

She landed smoothly on her feet in the antechamber of stone, with stain glass windows and dark carpet, hanging with the dark banner of the Imperial Legion, consisting of their Sky-Navy, the Steel-Hands, and finally, the Brass Ministry and their Faith Militant, at the head of that were the Queen's Elite, guardians, and enforcers, the 12 Iron Centurions.

How she knew these things, how it all felt so natural, out of her control, and yet... so odd, she felt like it was all some kind of dream.

Brutus marched on sure feet, her gate was long, slow and smooth as she traversed the many empty halls. She felt at home within these walls, and yet walking among them, observing their acute details, Brutus could feel nothing but a hideous disgust, and precious heartache.

The Black paint shone on the intricate brickwork, scarred and decrepit from time and dust, ole finishings, tables, chairs, matted carpet, lay in their places, knocked aside and left to ruin.

Further, she continued until she came upon a long set of winding stairs, that were cracked and broken off at their nape, the sight made Brutus' hands tingle unpleasantly.

She moved underneath these ruined stairs, to a small opening where a heavy trap door had been installed.

Quick as the wind, she slipped into the door, through the hatch to descend on a ladder, sliding down dexterously for a long while, down into the darkness. eventually, light began to shine from below, and the blackness vanished, replaced by heat and the loud clanging of metal on metal.

When she finally hit the bottom she was in diving descend on the ladder, and yet she tipped into a roll and srang smoothly up to her feet... what was she? how was she capable of such feats? Why could she do such unimaginable things, such as touch the very tip of the sky?

She would not have time to ponder.

"Lady Basilisk." The voice was feminine and Familiar. She turned to see who it belonged to.

The woman was clearly of a High position and nothing like the others around them. She was tall and lean, with skin the colour of red so black as she gleamed with a scarlet glow on the light of the forges around them. Her horns curled out on either side and her dark piercing eyes matched her sleek black uniform.

The Woman moved closer, arms behind her back, very militaristic. At the sight of her, something clicked in Brutus' mind. "General Enyo Nyx," Brutus spoke... her voice was deep, calm and sure, haunting too... she didn't like it.

Nyx was paramount of order, she walked with the narrow gate of a highly trained soldier, careful and with precision, she did not paint a smile on her beautiful but stern visage but instead drew the hard lines of her black lips taught so that her expression was hard and impartial.

Slithering in like a snake, the General go in close as Brutus remained completely still, her cold eyes like black holes looking upon Brutus with a critical gaze "Do you remember me? Executioner?" She asked, her voice deep and dark like venom.

Brutus was unsure of what to say... she had never spoken to anybody before, there was no memory in the place that she was before, just blackness, just ****. A Blank sea of nothing.

Nyx sneered "You always were awfully pompous after your little disappearances. Tell me, how was your flight into the Litchen territory? I had heard that the Griffin of Blades had escaped?" Her voice was gentle but harsh and judgemental.

Brutus again said nothing, she was unsure of how to respond. Griffin of Blades? the name made her feel a sense of relief, but who was this person, and why would she be in Litchen Territory, was it not dangerous there... then again, she had no clue how she even knew that.

"I suppose that we should not keep your subordinates waiting any longer, My lady." Nyx smiled.

Brutus felt a sense of agency, rush into her legs and push her forward "Do not fall behind." She found herself commanding, in her slow, slightly intimidating tone.

Brutus' gate was that of a prowling predator, she was constantly aware of nearly all possible stimuli, the clashing of steel on steel, the glowing coals as the below roared the forges to life with heat and power.

She could feel the sweat falling from the brows, from the strange beings that shaped and hammered, clothed in tattered rags that covered their soot and ashen laden forms.

They seemed... unimportant, however, despite their apparent similarities to her and Nyx, they lacked certain features.

But despite the morbid curiosity that began to grow in her subconscious, Brutus found herself looking away and forging ahead with Nyx striding in tow... to her, the things working on these forges seemed like less than nothing, unworthy of her attention and so she continued.

_"I have no control." She noted fearfully "I am I nothing more than a Ghost? my arms move without thought, my feet are sure, but... what is this place? who are these people? Why am I here?" _

The Questions haunted her, and yet she pushed on anyhow.

The Forge halls in this Mill continued much further and much deeper underground, but Nyx merely continued to follow silently, as Brutus found herself leading them on the ascending path, towards a set of heavy iron double doors.

Her feet halted, however, as the faint sound of voices, rough and unnatural, tickled her ears.

The sounds gave her body pause, hearing them alone filled her with a sense of dread... and burning on her skin.

Hellfire burned on her arm then, a blazing pain that flushed her body with goosebumps.

Brutus flinched as her skin flushed and the world began to rattle, she felt sensitive, **** to every crease in her clothing, every metal plate in her armour, every booming vibration that resonated within her feet and toes, sending an odd sensation flooding into her flesh.

At first, she felt fear, confusion, what was this feeling, it was horrible and overwhelming... but also there was a fascination in it. Her awareness had easily doubled, tripled, she knew exactly where everything was; every ****-smith who stood on solid ground, every object that came in contact with the floor below her, sent signals and those signals sent signals. A world mapped out and planned for her in perfect clarity.

But that wasn't all that she felt.

"I will not suffer this."

The voice was low and unnatural, spindly and hoarse, it did not speak, not really, it growled if anything and within the rippling waves of the speech, Brutus could interpret them through the sensation that rose through her.

"You will suffer in accordance to your station. as-is out duty." This voice was lighter but twisted with gentle malice, mixed with manic joy.

"Our Captain has been gone for 30 moons already on her mission. If we have been called in ****, then that means that the task has been undertaken. And so I wonder, where is our Brutus the Basalisk?"

They were speaking about her?

"Watch your tongue, Harpy. Treason will not be tolerated."

"There is no treason to be had, I merely question the consistency of our leadership. Have we not attended to our mistress' needs as gospel? do we not toil in every aspect to fulfil our duties? what right does our 'captain' have, to ignore the calls of our great Empress."

"Seven speaks true, Chimera, Two, Five and Six have yet to return, I have seen them not in our hall, smelt them not on the wind, and with Tick-tocks still unaccounted for after his journey to find them, we are incomplete. Our legion is fractured without the Captain."

"Omega 13 will return forthwith, are you so foolish as to think us infallible? we know little of the Litchen hoard and less of the red sea. there is little question to the logic that they encountered beasts beyond our comprehension in those accursed lands, our Captain will return, and I will see to it that it is not to treachery."

"I will not suffer that nor this, transient being. My loyalty will not be questioned by the likes of you, Iota-Seven.

"Lady Executioner?"

Brutus flinched as Nyx placed a firm hand on her shoulder. It felt as if a thousand tiny creature bit into her skin, as if every one of her red fingers could crush bone, Brutus huffed silently as the sensation escaped her, the burning soothed and her senses correct once more.

Nyx's eyes were black and unfeeling as she fixed the Executioner with her gaze "It is uncharacteristic of us to be late. My Lady." She warned.

Brutus found herself shaking Nyx's hand away, her touch was cold and disturbing to Brutus, the discomfort was explicit and tense.

"Touching this one is forbidden." She shot back sharply. Nyx smiled venemously and bowed low.

"I meant no offence dear Executioner, only that we hurry along proceedings. Our Empress does not encourage loitering amoung her most trusted battalion."

"Then we shall proceed." Brutus whispered "follow in silence, until I give you leave to speak."

"Of course." Nyx acted the loyal and faithful servant, but Brutus could feel that this was a ruse. Nyx the Night-Watcher was not to be underestimated, there was no woman in the Scarlet Empire who could match the ruthlessness and insidious tact as the dark figure that walked alongside Brutus now, towards the towering iron doors.

Each were cold as ice and heavy beyond belief, Brutus wondered on how it was possible for any normal being to open these doors, each must have weighed several tons of hard iron... and yet, Brutus placed a hand on each.

She exhaled slowly as her muscles buldged and flexed. With a single heavy exale her arms cracked both doors open, before with one momentous heave, smashed each door into a screaching arc as the way opened.

Her arms burned pleasantly as she starred involentarily into her hands _"What kind of monster am I? to possess this level of strength?" _She questioned.

"...If I may, Milady" Nyx recaptured Brutus' attention... directing her to the sight before her.