"You cannot stop us!" I scream in defiance, as the winds of creation billow my cloak about me. The Scintillating Blade of Azathoth is already flashing forward into the angel's flesh, the celestial blood running through the channels in the great ritual hall's floor, forming the circle which is both transport and piercing. "We have already won! The Angel has died, and the Veil torn! Now, let an arcane path be traced straight to the centre of all things, the den of Azathoth Himself!"
The adventurers charge forward into the rainbow of light. Even if they kill me, though, there is no stopping this. There is no stopping us. Even if I were to fall before the barbarian's axe or the thief's knife, there are too many of us and too few of them. We will meet Azathoth, and gain His blessing, and return to our own plane able to shape it to our whims.
And even as the adventurers lash out, they seem aware of it too. They're fighting to the last, teeth grit, in some kind of futile hope that they can change what is already wrought. I clutch at the medallion of Azathoth hanging around my neck as a path is cleaved between existences straight to the home of the one true Elder One.
The magic catches-- I can feel it in my blood. My own sense of magic blossoms into unspeakable colors, and I can see the weight of it has even given the adventurers pause. They stand amidst several bloody corpses, leaving but me and my right hand alive within the circle, but it is enough.
"Count yourselves lucky," I say to them. There's no malice in my voice. Why should there be? Their ignorant lashing out is that of a toddler, not understanding what is happening. How could I be angry, when they were so pitiful?
And then the rift in reality consumes myself, my stalwart ally, and the four foes who have hounded us for so long. Our bodies and souls are flensed across light-years, a miasma of sensation unbound by nerves or flesh. The kind of unbridled creative beauty that would make lesser men weep. Perhaps the adventurers are weeping. I feel nothing but joy.
Consciousness fails even me. That was the inescapable nature of such a journey. But I am first to awake, and what I awake to is something much brighter than I had expected.
Truly, though, I also expected that no expectations would prepare me for Azathoth's realm. The unexpected light from beyond my fluttering eyelids and blurred vision were nothing compared to the great primal chaos of Azathoth. So I push through any shock, and try to get to my feet.
My cloak is still around me, I can feel its weight. Actually, I am standing upon a floor which looks to be some sort of marble. There's gravity, and air. It's actually somewhat surprising in how unsurprising it is. The temperature is pleasantly warm.
It's hospitable. My stomach twists. Did I... miss?
My vision focuses further. I'm standing in a dining hall, in a castle of fine marble. Light streams in through stained glass windows. It's... nice. My stomach twists again. It's not even particularly large, not really, compared to the cathedrals and coliseums of Golarion. It's on a sort of razor-edge between grandiose and modest, in a way.
There is a table just ahead of me that I can see. A long dining table, in fact. A good deal of it is covered in documents, with some space reserved for a tea service. The tea smells pleasant, calming, and I can actually even place it as being chamomile.
It is at this point my mind begins to process the creatures before me. Not because of any indescribability, rather the opposite. It is easy to see that one, sitting before a spilt cup of tea, is an equine perhaps the size of a dwarven adult. They have a soft lavender coat of fur, and a dark blue mane with a tasteful pink streak in it, and a horn. A small unicorn. A pony. Or a foal.
And sitting there across from the unicorn was... Azathoth.
He could only be Azathoth. He radiates a familiar power, takes up presence in the forefront of my mind, and makes the pendant around my neck tremble with proximity to its master. Yet His form is simply a larger equine, only a bit larger than an ordinary warhorse. His coat is a fine, silky white, and He has a flowing mane of pastel pinks, blues, and whites, and He has His eyes closed as He continues to sip His tea. The teacup itself is held in a mage hand spell, though one formless and glittering.
Then He finishes, and places the teacup gracefully down. "I'm sorry, Twilight," Azathoth says in the voice of a soothing, motherly woman. "I think we have some unexpected guests. Do you mind putting our tea party on hold for a moment?"
Perhaps the strangeness of the centre of the universe is merely filtering itself through my mind so I don't go mad. Perhaps I already have. Even so, I can recognize the presence of the Old God whom I have searched for all this time. I fall to my knees and bow. "Mighty Azathoth," I say. "Sultan of Demons, Primal Chaos, He Who Lies Behind The Stars, I have journeyed the multiverse's breadth here to the centre of it all to beseech you for your blessing."
Azathoth sighs, and stands. My eyes flick up and I watch as she walks around the the table to address me more directly.
It is at this moment that another presence makes itself known. One I am not unaccustomed to, though I rarely felt his presence in my pursuit of Azathoth and His blessing. A screech of madness and a discordant wailing ring against my power-sense as a strange chimera, long and sinuous and somewhere between goat and dragon, appears next to me.
Inexplicably, Hastur wears a yellow raincoat.
"Hastur, Hastur, Hastur!" groans Hastur. "You find some annoying little ape banging on the wall between worlds and ask if he HAS TO be so loud one time and he goes and starts a whole damn cult about you! I don't even look particularly good in yellow!" Hastur looks me over with a critical air. "Alright. Well, just let me know what kind of madness you're looking for so I can send you back." His eyes narrow. "You're lucky I'm asking. If Fluttershy didn't--"
"Ahem," Azathoth clears His throat. "Discord, I'm sorry. I think these ones are for me."
Hastur looks closer, spies my pendant, and falls back onto thin air, giggling. "Devotees of the Blind Idiot God? Oh, that's so much better. It's been ages! I have to see this."
Azathoth rolls His eyes. I'm still on my knees, and my emotions are tangled into a knot more inscrutable than any ancient lore on the Old Gods I had found. The Old Gods bickering here before me, no less.
"Please, stand," Azathoth says. "It might take your companions some time to come around. I know the journey here can be hard. Would you like some tea?"
At Azathoth's words, I do stand, and consider the prone figures behind me. My ally, and my enemies. "Um," I say. "I'll be alright without tea, I think."
"Alright," says Azathoth. "Still, I think I'l save the more detailed explanations for when everyone is awake. In the meantime, please," a smile that's bright and warm and welcoming graces Azathoth's face. "Call me Celestia."
"As you wish," I say.
Aza-- Celestia sighs. "You don't have to be so formal. I'm really not all that."
The unicorn at the table seems a little taken aback at this, like they want to argue. I beat them to it. "Not all that? You're the greatest of the Great Old Ones! Everything, every aspect of the Material Plane, every aspect of every Material Plane! Merely knowing of your existence is something which changes your very destiny!"
Hastur-- Discord? Celestia called him Discord-- looks like he's on the verge of hysterics. The unicorn looks like she wants to ask me questions. Celestia looks almost sad.
"It's... more complicated than that," Celestia says.
"It's more complicated than that!" mocks Discord. "See, this is why the best nickname for her is the Blind Idiot God."
"Thank you, Discord," Celestia says dryly. Then she looks behind me. "Ah, the others are waking up."
Sure enough, groaning and confused murmurs. I feel a tug on my robe as my co-conspirator focuses blurry vision on what's going on, and whispers, "Azathoth is so pretty."
The adventurers seem confused as well, although they thankfully have yet to redraw their arms. Without knowing the feeling of Old Gods by heart, they must be utterly lost. As it is, my right hand hasn't yet noticed Hastur.
"Well," Celestia says. "I take it all of you were seeking the one known as Azathoth?"
My right hand nods her head, but the adventurers frown. The sorcerer steps forth. "We came here to prevent them from summoning him," he says. "We know that any time Azathoth is invoked, it invites calamity."
"Ha!" Discord laughs. Celestia just winces.
"Well, either way, you've made it here. This is, as you've guessed, Azathoth's realm. And I," Celestia looks somewhat uncomfortable, and then turns to the side where the eight-pointed star is emblazoned on her flank. "Am Azathoth. Or at least, that's a name I used to go by."
The adventurers look dumbfounded, but by the reactions of me and my right hand they seem at least willing to believe it.
The unicorn frowns. "What are you talking about, Celestia? Weren't you an--"
"Ordinary earth pony, yes," Celestia says. "That was also the truth. Like I said, it's complicated."
"It's not that complicated," says Discord. "I think the foals these days call it 'LARPing'."
Celestia starts to pace. "It's hard for me to remember it clearly like this. But, well, the sun in this sky is me, and was me, and always had been me. Equestria, this place is in a sense a dream the sun had."
"But I couldn't just be the sun, and also be in the dream. So I, Celestia, am here, and was also born into and was a part of the history of this world. I am an ordinary mortal pony. I'm also the sun. I've told you this before, Twilight."
Twilight nods.
Celestia then stops. "Right. The visitors. You're partially right. Trying to talk to the sun, or invite parts of it, probably does end in disaster. It's too much." She nods at the adventurers. "But the knowledge affecting your destiny... well, that's not exactly just me, and it's not exactly knowledge of me. What, I think, those stories are getting at is--"
"Cutie marks!" Twilight says, slamming her forehooves on the table. "They want cutie marks!"
Celestia gives Twilight a kind smile, and it's enough to make my heart skip a beat. I want to change Golarion, I want the power to affect things for the better, but this beautiful dream my god created... I want to stay here too.
"A cutie mark," says Celestia, "is something that you gain when you understand yourself, who you are, what you love. It's a piece of destiny that is you. My symbol is a little self-centered--" Discord boos at the joke, and a peanut plinks off of Celestia's head, "but it demonstrates it. When I, the mortal, understood I was also the sun, then I earned my mark."
My right hand's eyes sparkle. "You can give me a destiny?"
Celestia winces. "That's not exactly right--"
"Please!" My right hand says. "I beg of you, whatever you ask of me, great Azathoth."
Celestia looks over us. Her horn glimmers with light, and power washes over me.
My right hand turns to me. "Oh, Fiore, isn't this amazing? With this, we can go back and make everything right, finally! The nobles who hurt us, hurt everyone, we can change it!"
I look at her, and then I look back at the adventurers, staring at their hands in wonder, and I bite my lip in indecision. Then I turn back to my right hand. "Kawari, can I ask something of you?"
She nods.
I remove the pendant, still thrumming with power, and press it into her hands. Her eyes go wide, and she tries to protest, but I turn to the adventurers. "And you!" I say. "You fought us because you didn't understand, but maybe now... do you get what we were trying to do?"
Slowly, the barbarian nods. She turns to the other adventurers, and then steps forward. "We thought..."
"I know," I said. "Can I ask you a favor? When you go back, could you take care of Kawari for me? Protect her?"
The barbarian nods slowly. Kawari says, "What do you mean? Won't you be there?"
I turn back to Celestia, and settle onto my knees again. "Celestia, I have searched my whole life for you. I spent a long time poring over tomes and reserching arcane lore to find you. I'm no longer young, and I think I've already found my destiny." I bow my head lower. "Send my apprentice back, so that she can make that better future we dreamed of. But me..." My forehead touches the marble floor. "Please. Let me stay."
A long moment of silence envelops the hall. Finally, Celestia says, "If you do stay, your form will change. You'll become a pony, like myself and Twilight. You won't be a human anymore."
"I renounced my humanity in the hopes that casting it off would help me find you," I reply. I let part of my robes fall aside, revealing the golem parts grafted onto me in an effort to keep myself alive. My right hand looks heartbroken. The adventurers seem shocked.
Celestia bows her head. "How can I refuse?"
My right hand woman, Kawari, hugs me tightly. What parts of me are still flesh can feel her clutching at me. "Please," Kawari says. "Don't leave me. I don't know what to do without you."
I hug her back. "That's what the pendant is for," I say. "No matter what, I'll always be right there with you."
After a long moment, Kawari stands. "How will I know when I find my mark?" she asks.
Celestia smiles. "You'll feel it. And it'll appear on you. It's different for creatures like you, but if I had to guess..." Celestia taps right above Kawari's heart with a gentle touch of her hoof. "There."
Kawari bows, then turns to me. "I promise!" she says. "I promise that I'll make the world better, like we always wanted!"
"I know," I tell her. "I trust you."
Celestia's horn glows one final time, and with that, my ally and my former foes vanish, and it's just me, two Old Gods, and a fluffy pony in the castle hall.
"Are you sure you wouldn't like some tea?" asks Celestia.
I walk over to the table and take a seat. "On second thought," I say, "tea sounds lovely."
Author's Note
Listen, I can't be the only one that heard 'eight pointed star' and went hmmmmm, right? I can't be the only one. I can't I can't I c̶̦̈́̚a̸̲͕͛̊ṇ̷̟̓̒'̵̞͓̓t̶̥̑ Ì̸̢̛̳͍̺͇͇̎͂́͘ ̷̧͔̠͆̀̔͝͝c̶͓̪̥̭͕͑̇̌͗̀͊̃ą̷̢̨͎̻̤̫̈̊̈́̊̏ņ̴̠̐'̶̨͇͊͒̽̀͜t̵͕̼̘̘̪̻͖̒Į̶͕̱͕͍̼̲̥͕͙͖̰̊͗̀̐͊̄͝ ̷̡̹͔̇͆̈̃̀̋̎̽̋̐̋̏̾̌̎̾̀̋͌̚̕c̷̢̛̩̥̦̠̰̠͖̜̼̅͗͒̾̌̈́̽̄̃̓̾̏́̃̂̓̄̉͝ͅà̸̧̛̩͕̤͙̳̒̀͗̈́̍̑̅̌̈́̍̿̆͒̿͊̽̿̐̎ņ̷̦̥͔̮̣̭͖̹̼̊̿͗̋͜'̷̠͚̝̫̠̞͗̈́́̍̈́̓͆̉̓̾͂̕̚͝ṯ̷̢̣͔̹͈́̓Į̴͙̪̪̘̗͓̪̫̊͆̐̓̿̈̋̓̌̒͐͊͒̋́́̇̉̆̈̆̑͌͊̚̕̚͜͠c̶̡̦͍̺̣̬̝̳̣̮̮͍͇̖̝̥̻̪̣̣̍̈́̇̾̃̄̌̏͐̉͊̾͒̈́̀̽͐͝͝ą̶̢̢̗̦̙̣̩̥̯̯̭̟͈̱͕̟̘̞̜̘͕̻͍͚̜̣̍̀̀͑͒̎͝͝n̶̢̧̖̜̠͔̪̹̭̭̝̰͕̟̮̳̠̠͎̂͐̈͜͝ͅͅ'̴̛͇̜͎̻̣̉̿̔̎̈́̂͐̒̑̄͐̈́́̐́̀̓͋͌̈̓̅́͛͌̈́̚̚̕t̵̡̧̨͍̙̦̞̰̻̠̞̼́͊̌̽́̏̊̄͆̾̒̽͑͑͘͝͝
