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Chapter Text

A presence. Intruder, or perhaps a wayward soul.

Rhulk looked up from the worm in his hands and toward the entrance of his domain. Far-off footsteps echoed through those halls with imperious intent. A rush of excitement swelled within his chest; it had been a while since his last challenge. 

When the Guardians first began to arrive, it had been entertaining. He would welcome his challengers. Provide all they needed to destroy him, even taking pity on their less fortuitous attempts, and then obliterate them when they had reached their peak. And for a while, he thought he would never tire of grinding them beneath his feet. Never tire of watching the dawning realisation of futility creep over their shoulders. Of watching them beg and plead—sometimes with him, others with their Ghosts—while he toyed with them. He would laugh as he watched their Ghosts put them back together, only to have them suffer the same fate. He had thought he would always relish in sending these misguided, obstinate, things to the abyss. He shattered bodies and minds as a display of indulgence and power. Turned them into lessons for those left alive to watch, so that they could see how insignificant they truly were. He lined the halls of his domain with their bodies and the dead Ghosts they left behind. Not as a warning, no, but an invitation. A challenge to those yet to set their sights on him. But as time went on, fewer and fewer trespassed into his domain. Those who did, those who rose to meet Lubrae's Ruin, fell all the same. And all failed in such a spectacular manner to see just how pointless their efforts were, which had made their attempts all the more amusing in the beginning.

Whatever humour he had found initially had long since lost its charm. The encroaching footsteps now served as a bitter reminder: despite the ingress of light into his realm, he remained cursed. But there was an oddity about these new steps. There had been no warning, no cries of triumph or defeat to accompany them. Nothing to indicate threat or challenge. So what had drawn them in, and why? Why was he thrilled to hear them? Was it really a mere lack of consistency that had excited him so? He really must have been bored, but what else was there to do? 

Rhulk placed the worm back in its incubation chamber, and with a flick of his wrist, shunted away the table and the Scorn attached to it; his experiments could wait. Silent and heavy as the air around him, he drifted through the dim expanse until he found the intruder. 

The being was donned in armour, a mark tied about its waist, sword across its back and a pistol at its hip, and a severe looking rifle in its grasp. So it was a Guardian. But it was just that: one. He'd been challenged by plenty before, but never just one. Even more curious was that the Guardian had made its way past his defences unscathed and did not seem phased by its surroundings, nor the pervasive darkness weighing on it. This peculiarity was the only thing that made him keep the Scorn and Taken at bay. 

For now.

Instead, he followed. Stalked through the black stone halls, hiding just beyond the Guardian's peripherals. For a while, he watched and waited. Watched it scour bare stone for keys or cracks. Watched it scale walls and skirt the Caretaker he had appointed. Waited while it dragged itself through the exhibition floors—curious that even though his presence grew heavier, the Guardian still paused to admire his collection. To him, they were nothing more than worthless trinkets. To the Guardian, they appeared to be more. Familiar. Memories from purposes fulfilled, but ultimately meaningless. 

Resonance. Vex. Taken. 

His silent observation carried on until he was rewarded for his patience: he learned something. He learned that there was no one coming for this Guardian. No one knew where it was. In the low light, losing composure and sanity, it muttered under its breath about a dawning lack of food and water, how it would survive no more than a few more days without. Odd. Its Light should sustain it. Its Ghost—who he had yet to see or hear—should have been bound by illustrious duty, no? The Guardian continued to speak aloud, unknowingly lavishing him with information—his fingers twitched with cruel anticipation. Who was it speaking to if not its partner? A memory? Was the Ghost absent? Dead? If it was, how long could he toy with this trespasser before it realised whose presence it was basking in? How long could he twist and break its flesh and bones before it expired? Could he keep it alive? He hadn't tried before. Would the Guardian beg him to nourish it once it ran out of sustenance? But even all of that felt… tired. He had grown bored of crushing these defiant creatures. Bored of this prison. Being surrounded by his triumphs did nothing to quell the rage roiling within his blood. All served as reminders of what he had achieved, yet here he could do nothing. Was this truly his purpose? Wrath rendered useless by Savathûn and hung out to rot? Even the satisfaction of releasing Scorn into her throne world had subsided. He yearned for more, something other than what fate had prescribed him. Something new. 

And this Guardian would be the one to provide it.

Black stone walls groaned in protest as he set about a new experiment. Old halls closed, new ones yawning open in their wake. Corners and twists and turns took shape. Dead ends, ever shifting. He wove together this maze of passages, drove the Guardian in all manner of wayward direction, sealing it away. As for how long he intended this game to go on… Well, what did time matter while he was biding it? But to his fascination and quickly, irritation, the Guardian wandered the paths without frustration and without despair—Rhulk bristled at its indifference. Did it not care that it was trapped, or was it too stupid to notice? No, it knew. It would mark its way and continue moving forward no matter how many times he twisted it around. It would stop to rest. To eat. To sleep.

One night—or day, he did not know—while he watched the Guardian sleep, he approached. Carved a path through the walls, closer and closer until he was merely a breath away. Towering over the sleeping form at his feet, he stared at it, his mind reeling. He had taken pleasure in tearing apart helpless creatures before. How would this be any different? Why was this one different? His eyes narrowed as it whimpered in its sleep. Near unintelligible pleas, bargains, and a name. He could not see the expression beneath its helm, but envisioned a visage contorted in anguish—a familiar nightmare. He saw the lingering imprint on its being, its mind barely touched by his brother in arms. Rhulk crouched over the Guardian and delicately nudged its body with his resonance. It rolled onto its back with ease, its head falling back and exposing its throat. The flutter of a pulse just beneath its skin drew his hand forward. Where had it encountered his old friend? Luna? The fourth tomb? Perhaps it knew what happened to the rest of the disciple's body. His Witness had only found the head, after all. If he could find a way to beckon the Qugu—he pulled his hand back. No. He had to fix this on his own. He would find a way to free himself from this prison and then he would deal with Savathûn. Pluck her wings and pin them to the wall for all to see, or better yet, gift them to his Witness. And then make her watch while he turned the Upended on her Throne World. What a grand display that would be. But for now, the Guardian would have to do.

The Guardian awoke the next day none the wiser to his intrusion and carried on through the maze just as stoically as before. He was growing bored again, and the knowledge of the Guardian's—however brief—brush with Nezarec had given him an idea: perhaps he could leave his own imprint on the Lightbearer. A lasting impression, or so to speak. And he would derive great pleasure from seeing its reaction to the rest of his collections. He hadn't bothered to pay attention to the other Guardians who had stumbled through these memories, not that any of them could truly appreciate what they were seeing nor realise the depths of their insignificance in the face of it all. They were too blinded by their lucent purpose, ironically. Did he expect more from this one? And why? What did he stand to lose? To gain? Perhaps everything.

Rhulk waved his hand and the walls of the maze parted, revealing a precipice he had stood at countless times before. In a wicked motion the Guardian drew its gun off its back and levied its sights dead ahead, its movements practised, measured, and precise. The air was quiet with pensive promise. Not quite peace, but not chaos. The Guardian remained rigid as stone, nearly unbreathing.

He counted sixty breaths before the Guardian lowered its weapon. Seemingly satisfied it was in no immediate danger, it turned its attention out across the expanse. Out toward the towering object, the greatest monument to his success and the worm-mother that lay below, empowering it. Was the Guardian impressed? Horrified? Curious? Slowly, it slung its weapon and pack onto the floor and squatted down to remove an item from its bag: a book. Hand crafted and worn, full of empty pages. No, not empty. He caught glimpses of images scattering the paper, inscribed with various inks and charcoal; this Guardian thought itself an artist. And it was being drawn to the Upended, as one rightfully should in the presence of such power. This display of open admiration was… compelling. He shouldn't intervene, but that had always been a weakness of his. His pride too strong. His thirst for power. He was, perhaps at times, a little too self serving. But there was a lesson here for this intruder to learn. One he would gleefully teach. 

When the Guardian placed its hand on the pedestal next to where it stood, he finally spoke: "The Upended. A triumvirate. Opportunity. Preservation. Salvation. It will serve the deserving. Crush the defiant." 

A vicious grin split his mouth at the Lightbearer's startled yelp. It spun in all manner of direction as it searched for the source, fumbling for its weapon. Body poised and legs braced, it waited like frightened prey, abandoning the calm demeanour it had donned up until this point. Rhulk inclined his chin as the Guardian slowly pulled off its helm—a reckless action, and uncharacteristically so. What was causing it to behave in such a way? Surely it understood the danger of where it was. Surely it—

Aubergine hair and lilac skin were first to greet the air. Lucent white irises flashed in the low light, and an ethereal glow drifted over its skin. The kiss of a singularity. The Guardian called out a husky greeting, a quaver of uncertainty caught in its vocal chords. He wouldn't reveal himself yet. There was a better place and time. Instead, he continued his soliloquy, projecting his voice around the Guardian. He spoke of his early days and his home, Lubrae. The genocide of his kind at his hands and the shattering of their Sun. A hollow ache filled his chest with an emotion akin to grief. His mentor, his saviour… He may never lay eyes on his Witness again. 

If that was the price their victory demanded, then so be it.

Resignation crept into his voice and he sighed. "...My Witness… whether I survive Savathûn's betrayal or not, the Upended will ensure we salvage our perfect goal. The final abyss… awaits us all."

For a moment, he had forgotten his guest was still there. It cocked its head at the pedestal and looked back out across the void, at the Upended and Xita, its expression unreadable. After a moment, it sat with the book it had retrieved and set to work. Rhulk stretched out high above it, directly overhead where it wouldn't see. Guardians seldom looked up, he found. A deeply amusing albeit fatal shortcoming and one he had exploited many times. He observed for a while, lost deep in thought, planning for the day he might be free. The day he could show his Witness what Savathûn really was. He had always known she was undeserving of their trust, that she would betray them. His mind began to haze and his vision faded. Ideas whorled and formed a dance of images. From the chaos, a voice filtered into his twisting thoughts and pulled him back to wakefulness.

The Guardian was still there. Leaning against the pedestal, staring at a page covered in images of a Ghost, it traced its fingers over the page. There was longing in that touch. Pain in its intonation. 

"I miss you, Adhara." Its voice was soft. Sorrowful. Thick, like nectar. He could drown himself in that grief.

Rather suddenly, the Guardian furiously tore the page from the book and hurled it over the edge to the depths below. Fury. Had it been betrayed? It didn't really matter, but what did matter was that it was, utterly and truly, alone.  

Just as he had been, once.

Once. A long time ago. Time was inconsequential to him, he who could will the world to fit his shape and desire. Yet time, for the Adversary's children, always seemed to run out when they crossed his path.

Just as this one's would.

"What do you seek in the Deep, child of light?" His voice drifted, barely a whisper, through the heavy air of the pyramid down toward it. 

The Guardian seemed to bow, curling in on itself with the book clutched to its chest, as if the weight of his presence was too much to bear. It answered, quiet enough that he was sure he wasn't meant to hear:

"Refuge."

A foolish place to find it. "From what?"

"Light."

Light?

Rhulk paused. No. No this was too good. Had this one become disillusioned with its false god's ways? Perhaps he should conduct a test, see what limits it could be pushed to, if it could be moulded. After all, he had been just as lost, just as ignorant. Blinded by rage and grief until his Witness had found him, body broken and shattered at the bottom of the Abyss. He could help this Lightbearer shed the weight of those ideological burdens it clung to and show it what true potential could be reached through such pain. He could corrupt and capture this beating heart, like he had so many before.

"Then let us take you," he replied. 

A blanket of darkness covered the Guardian before it could rise to its feet. There was panic in its eyes as it reached for its rifle, crawling on its belly and trying desperately to stay lucid. Fingers at the edge of its weapon, the Guardian's movements ceased and its breathing slowed. Asleep, in a sense. He kept the nightmares at bay. Not out of pity, but necessity: it would be easier if it felt the dark was trustworthy. If it was a comfort. If the dark provided the refuge it sought.

When the Guardian woke, he guided it through the rest of his story. He spoke of his liberation, his ideals and beliefs. How the destruction of his world allowed him to find his purpose. His and the Witness' ploy with the Krill and his distaste for their species. The Hive's subsequent failure to rise as he did. And then the foetid worm gods, who had deemed him "Subjugator"—a title that pleased him greatly. But it was the tale of the Leviathan that stirred the Guardian most. Surrounded by towering obelisks and rooms of sacred knowledge, it walked around the beast's rib in awe. Pride surged within him and his sense of purpose felt… renewed. 

He watched the Guardian scale the pedestals where the rib had been placed. It paled in size to the mere fraction of the beast he kept on display. Infinitesimal, beneath the near-infinite ceiling and the drifting dark that lay above. Nothing, compared to him.

As its fingers brushed the piece of the divine being's body, he materialised, his voice rich with hunger. "Are you lost, little one?"

It spun and aimed its weapon at him, finger expertly on the trigger. Featherlight, waiting for that synapse to fire. The singular white eye that was fixed on him showed no fear or hesitation. Yet, there was an airyness in its breath that betrayed apprehension. The Guardian's finger inched closer, caressing the edge of a decision. 

"Who are you?" he asked.

"A Guardian," it replied cooly.

Rhulk rolled his eyes; this was quickly becoming tedious. "What do I refer to you as, Guardian?"

The being before him remained unmoving. 

"I will not ask again," he said in a low and threatening tone.

It didn't flinch. "Celeste."

Celeste. Female, awoken, and a Titan, by the looks of it. His eyes darted over her as he cocked his head. She was becoming emaciated. Weak. The round curves of her body hid it well, but it was evident in her cheeks. Under her eyes. Ice white and piercing, but they were tired.

"And I'm not lost," she quickly continued, as if sensing his scrutiny, "just trying to find someone. Whoever spoke in those recordings. Whoever lives here."

Recordings. A low hum of laughter resonated in his chest and echoed through the air. So he had fooled her after all. "And now you have."

She blinked. "You." Not a question, not an accusation. The Guardian shifted uncomfortably and the weapon's muzzle dipped. "Your voice is the one I've been hearing."

Rhulk cast his hands wide and his voice boomed through the vast open room. "Welcome, child of light. I am sure you understand my lack of hospitality. What is it you have come for, hm? To fight your pointless fight? To try to end me like the rest of your kind, rend my flesh and body until I am nothing but the truth in your memories? The denial that stains your skin? You're wasting your time."

"I don't—" Was it indecision that caught her tongue? Regret? It certainly wasn't fear. "I—I came here to fight, but…" The Guardian swallowed, making the muscles in her throat dance. It would be so satisfying to snap her neck and feel the bones grind against each other, to watch her struggle for breath as he crushed her windpipe. Every inch of his being screamed for him to snuff her out, but this was far too strange. Far too unexpected. 

Rhulk's claws bit into the palm of his hand as he clenched his fists behind his back. Restraint. Patience. "But what? Is that why your little Ghost friend left you? You couldn't do what was necessary?" When the Guardian didn't reply, Rhulk smirked behind his mask. "Traitor," he purred.

"What do I care?" she snapped back. "She's the one who betrayed me. She left me." And then quieter: "She lied to me." 

Her pain, while amusing, tugged at an ancient memory. One he had walked time and time again. Once, with agony and guilt. Now, with pride. The Guardian stared back at him, white irises in stark contrast against the miasma beginning to creep in around the two of them.

"What do you want? Surely you can't be appealing to my sense of compassion?" he asked flatly.

Her words were bitter and her lips curled harshly. "The truth." 

"Oh, not my death?" He did love the flavour sarcasm left on his tongue.

"Not yet."

"Why not?"

"You have the answers I want."

Surprising that she thought she could coax such secrets from him so easily. The barrel of the gun followed him, kept him in its sights as he stepped around it. "You know, I am curious as to how you came to that assumption considering no one has left this place alive."

With a wary glance at her rifle, she huffed and slung it over her shoulder. Perhaps she understood a weapon like that would have no effect on him. "I've done my research. I know what should be here. Word spreads more than you think."

Rhulk ran a pointed finger down the edge of the rib. "And what, dear child, should be here?"

"A Disciple. Power. Darkness."

Him. Purpose. Finality.

"Ah. Do you wish to play more than your assigned part in this game? Do you desire more than to follow the light blindly as your siblings did?" He gestured around them, revealing the corpses mounted in the shadow. Husks of puppets. A mirror of the end that awaited her.

She looked around with a calculated indifference, unphased and disinterested. Or so she wanted him to believe. He saw the twitch of her fingers, the hitch in her breath. But when she looked back at him, her eyes spoke of something else. Something unplaceable. "Don't think I have a purpose, to be honest."

"Of course you do," Rhulk purred disingenuously. "Lightbearer, it is your purpose to die by my hand. Your purpose is to serve as an example for those who would stand against the deep. It is your purpose to drown. Just as they did."

She squared her shoulders defiantly and met his piercing gaze. "I don't stand against it. I want to know it."

That almost caught him by surprise, but then again, why should he be surprised? Of course there would be those who would flock to him. Every race had defectors who became devoted, those that believed in his righteous cause. Those, he claimed as his students. Perhaps she could be the last of her species to die, and he would allow her to watch Sol collapse.

"Your kind already knows the darkness. You Guardians twist it and mould it into your own little perversion, do you not?" This, of course, would be the deciding factor. Had she already manipulated his Witness' power? Despite Stasis being a gift, he abhorred the Guardians' use of it. It made his teeth itch with derision. Malice.

"I—I don't. I never have."

A wave of emotion, not quite relief, washed over him. Disappointment? Not that either. He would have relished in the excuse to abandon this line of thinking, but she was only giving him more cause to press on.

"How arrogant to presume I would part with my secrets simply because you want me to. So painfully hypocritical," he disparaged. "Your Ghosts would not part with their light nor their secrets for me. Will you?"

She stood her ground as he moved in closer. "I… No."

He loomed above her, fingertips brushing her shoulder as he carefully reached for her. "What would happen if I pulled you apart? Would more than just blood spill from you? Secrets from your lips, light from your heart?" She grit her teeth and knocked away his hand. He nearly laughed at the infinitesimal display of control, and would have, had he not been so focused on where she touched him. Intrigue seared his skin. What if he held her in his hand, felt her writhe and beg for her life. What if—

"You could have killed me the second I set foot in here. Why didn't you?" she demanded.

Why hadn't he? 

Why hadn't his Witness come to free him? Surely it knew he was missing. But in the end, his absence did not matter. Not when they were so close to achieving their goal.

Or perhaps he had been abandoned, too.

A spark of rage flared beneath his mask. It must have been evident in his eyes because the Guardian finally stepped back. "You haven't exactly tried to leave either. But I think if you do, you will find that you can't. No one that has entered has been able to leave. Not that any have had the opportunity to try."

"So what, you're just going to leave me here?" she scoffed. "You're going to let a Guardian have free reign of your… whatever the hell this place is?"

"Fitting that we share this prison, isn't it?" he hissed. "Both of us betrayed and left to be forgotten. To rot. No, I am going to allow you to die here, slowly and painfully, unless I decide to tear you apart myself."

Rhulk turned heel to leave and her petulant voice rang out behind him: "Wait!"

Darkness shuddered and in a second he reappeared in front of the Guardian. A swift backhand knocked her from the pillar and sent her to the floor. Before she could regain her bearings, he pinned her body underneath his foot, her bones protesting against the pressure. His voice tore throughout the compound in a deadly whisper: 

"You are pressing your luck, little one."

He leaned harder on her chest and she gasped, her hands trying—and failing—to relieve the weight. "M—my Ghost, Adhara. Did—did she make it out?"

So her Ghost was alive after all. Yet she did not know where it was? The Guardian had one life to spare and he was going to savour it, but he was going to find that Ghost.

The malicious, rasping echo of his laughter clung to the air. "Did you not see my collection on your way in? Why would I let it go? Why would I let either of you go? It needs to keep you alive, doesn't it?"

"She won't bring me back if you kill me," the Guardian gritted.

"Oh, I'm counting on it." He released her and she rolled onto her side, coughing and spluttering. "There is water in the easternmost court. It is safe for you, but I severely doubt you will believe me. As for food… well. I've heard your kind have taken to eating the Eliksni on occasion. I can't imagine Scorn would be much different."

There was wrath in her eyes, vile and bloodthirsty. Oh, he liked that look. 

"Why are you helping me?" she spat.

He stood tall, hands behind his back as he vanished, leaving behind the boon of his voice: "You want to know the Deep? Rise or drown, the choice is yours. Then you will have your answers."

Chapter Text

Rhulk didn't approach her again.

He went about his dealings with the worms and their ilk, experimenting on Scorn and the few other Guardians he had kept alive. More Guardians came, but never for her. Nor did she seek them out. Instead, she watched his battles from afar. She watched him eviscerate her kin and their Ghosts and stain his body with their blood. An important lesson, and one he hoped she would appreciate, unlike some. Futility. Insignificance. Powerlessness. Tenacity. It must have been months in her species' time that she watched him. Having this private audience had renewed his enjoyment and given him new life. But she never approached him, never saw him except for during those moments.

He hadn't found her Ghost yet, either. He scoured the inside of his pyramid relentlessly, summit to base. There had been sightings: one Scorn claimed it glimpsed a Ghost in the marshes beyond the walls that held him. Another, in the darkened rooms kept safe by the Caretaker. Despite his instruction to all to bring it to him alive if it was found and his own investigations, weeks passed and nothing came of it. But every now and then there would be another sighting. Another report. With each report, patterns began to emerge. And each time, his fervour would renew.

The latest report, a sighting in the Exhibition halls, meant he was closing in on the wayward Ghost. And if it was her Ghost… The thought filled him with bloodthirsty delight. A delight he would gleefully share with the newest batch of Guardians currently marching toward him.  

He was toying with a Hunter when he caught the familiar glint of her sights off in the distance. And as always, when he knew she was watching, he put on a show. He pulled apart the Hunter's Ghost and watched him crawl on mangled limbs through the bodies of his companions. Crooned false platitudes as he tried to gather the pieces. The Hunter wept, and when offered salvation, he spat in his face. " Monster," the Hunter called him. Rhulk laughed and asked if he assigned all those he disagreed with such a moniker. If those that saw the world differently, that had grasped the ability to control and understand the universe, were evil. Unsurprisingly, there was no answer. With a swift kick, Rhulk delivered his final death. 

A deep sigh of satisfaction reverberated in the air as he clasped his hands behind his back once more. Now all that was left of the group of six was a Warlock. He looked up from where the Hunter was scattered across the floor and around the arena for his prey.

Suddenly, a flare of violet light lit the world and Rhulk spun, glaive materialising in hand, with a vicious grin concealed by his mask—he knew how this would play out: Lubrae's Ruin would sheer the Warlock's Nova in two, and in turn he would rend the defiant creature in half. He would watch the Ghost remake its pet, just so he could kill it again. And again. Until it stopped coming back right. He knew this. The Warlock surely did, yet it still denied its fate. He really did enjoy when they tried so hard—

A thunderous shot rang out, drowning out the Warlock's furious cry as a bolt of lightning struck its helm.

He saw only confusion in the Warlock's expression as its helm split in two and fell away from its face. The light of its Nova wisped away and it crumpled, dead and smouldering. Its Ghost appeared, barking out its name in confusion. A blinding bloom of light flooded the room as the crack of a rifle sounded again. All was silent as the remnants of the Ghost clattered to the floor. 

Rhulk turned toward where he knew the Titan was and saw her rifle aimed dead at him, smoke streaming from the barrel. The Warlock's strike wouldn't have hurt him. She knew that. He hummed in thought as he wiped viscera from his feet. A message, then? Or a mercy? No, he had done worse and she hadn't intervened. Why now? An amusing thought came to him: perhaps she too had grown bored. She'd survived this long in the suffocating dark of his pyramid. Perhaps she might be worth his time after all.  

Days later, when the next set of Guardians came to lay claim to their fates, he was surprised not to see her. Not that she had tried to approach him in the days since she dispatched her kin, but he had expected her to be present for his performance—a twinge of indignation curled his mouth. What did he care if he didn't have an audience? He never needed one before. But as the newest trespassers approached, weapons drawn and calling for his annihilation, the renewed sense of glee he had tasted upon having her watch turned to ash on his tongue. 

Her.

Celeste.

He slaughtered the intruding party before they made it up the first set of stairs. Brutally. Efficiently. Without delight and without pleasure. He had the Taken drag away the corpses to be fed to the worms and he tried—still unsuccessfully—to claim their Ghost's light for himself. He would not succumb to frustration, nor allow himself to lose his dignity. He was above that and had been for a millennia. The little light-filled curio shattered between his fingers and Rhulk threw the scraps aside with a low hiss; it was nothing more than a worthless trinket. Had he really been reduced to the same?

He felt the bullet before the sound hit him.

It ricocheted off his shoulder and struck a nearby obelisk before falling to the ground with an oddly defiant clink. He stared at the projectile a moment, grappling with—with a sense of excitement. Elation. Slowly, carefully, he looked to see where the shot had come from. This time, he saw the muzzle flash before he was struck. Rhulk displaced himself to the side and watched the bullet pass before looking back at his quarry. With a concealed grin, he vanished and left the dark lustre of his resonance skittering through the atmosphere. Fine. If she wanted an audience, then so be it, but she would be expecting him to come after her.

He watched the Guardian wait for him. Watched her sit still as a stone, eyes shining from the shadows. He may not have even known she was alive had she not blinked every so often. A non-insignificant amount of time passed until finally, she moved. A resigned sigh was forced through her nose as she picked up her things and left. He followed, silently drifting through the air just far enough behind to make her paranoid. Vanishing every time she looked back. She returned to the water he had told her of. There was a camp. A bed and some rough cookware. Ashes. Bones. A pitched tent of sorts. She had made quite a mess—he grimaced in distaste. Like an infection, marring his perfected realm. She was resourceful, he'd give her that.

The Guardian dropped her bag with a definitive lack of decorum and propped her weapon up against the wall. Her armour was soon to follow. Gauntlets, greaves, and cuirass. All laid out next to her helm, leaving her in plainclothes. She stretched her neck and rolled her shoulders before pulling her shirt off over her head. His focus shifted, eyes darting over ethereal skin as he drank in this new information: her form, her body. A strange sensation began to burn in his chest, swelling and rising with his breaths. The same heat that had scorched him when she had knocked away his hand. His fingers twitched as she awkwardly shed her pants, hopping on one leg and nearly falling over when she kicked them off. Such an inelegant creature. Simply plain and uninspiring.

Yet here he was.

Bare skinned, she stepped into the water and hissed. A solar light enveloped her hands and within minutes the water began to steam. The pool was barely waist deep, not intended for bathing, but nonetheless she sank beneath the surface with a groan and laid her head back on top of a rolled bundle of fabric. 

He crept closer, just as he had when she slept. A delicate sound drifted up from where she sat and Rhulk froze; he'd not heard a sound like that before. Not from a Guardian. Her head fell further back, revealing the gentle movement of her breasts in the water and the tell-tale rhythm of her shoulder. Her eyes were closed, but she was very much awake. Very much alive. He stood over her and tilted his head while he watched. Surely she would notice him by now, feel the pressure that came with it? He pressed forward, his presence growing heavier with resonance. It only seemed to encourage her. 

He grinned; now that was unexpected. "Enjoying yourself?"

The Guardian leapt up from where she laid, spun to face him and wrapped her arms around her chest as she backed away, sending out waves across the pool and around her waist. "Oh, fucking—hey! What the hell are you doing?"

"I don't believe you are in a position to ask the questions here, little one," he chuckled.

Ice white eyes stared daggers up at him and she hugged her body tighter. "I have a name you know."

He ignored the weak protest and plucked her from the pool. Soft creatures were always the most alluring, the most fragile. This one was plenty soft. And sweet. He could smell the need of her body. She looked fuller than when he had last seen her face. Healthier. Stronger. Perhaps she had found the Scorn he had sent her way, the ones he had tampered with. And the water he had enriched seemed to be suiting her just fine.

The lilac skin of her cheeks flushed and turned a deep amethyst. Her blood was hot, her body pulsing in his hand as she struggled against his grasp. "Put me down!"

"Why?" he asked. "Are Awoken so easily ashamed of their natural state? I've not had a chance to study one of you alive like this."

She pushed against his hand again, and this time, he squeezed. She yelped and gave him a particularly vicious glare.

"Behave," he hissed.

Teeth bared, she stopped squirming. Rhulk eased his grasp with a smug huff and the Guardian sat tensely in his hand while he looked her over. She was much stronger, certainly.

"Celeste," she said.

A single pair of his eyes looked at her while the others continued their study.

"My name is Celeste, remember?"

"And why do I care?" he replied.

Her eyes flitted to the finger he ran behind her neck as he lifted her hair. Her heartbeat was stronger too. Pounding. "If you're going to look at me like this you could at least call me by my name. It's polite."

"Manners?" he barked in amusement. "I have you at my whim and you want to speak to me of politeness?"

The way she looked at him—he should be unaffected, but it had been a long time since he'd felt this kind of power. This desire. Not since his Witness had lain with him. What would it think if he took up this Guardian as his play thing? He had empowered her after all. Made her fit for his consumption, whatever way that may be.

Her cheeks blushed as he began to look over her legs, tilting her hips this way and that. 

"At—at least tell me what to call you," she said.

His Witness would think nothing of it. It had no care for these little creatures, nor what he did in private.

He tucked a thumb around her waist to hold her in place as he took her arm in his other hand. She squirmed when he dragged his fingers over her bicep and her breath hitched when he splayed out her hand. She was barely able to wrap her fingers around one of his. "To taste my name is a privilege, little one. And yours means nothing to me."

"Cel—este," she enunciated. 

"I could rip out your throat, if you prefer. Then you wouldn't have to worry about names any more," he murmured, easing her head back with his thumb. "And it would be so easy."

The Guardian jerked her head free and sank her teeth into the crook of his hand. She made no sound as he pried her mouth open and looked himself over; she hadn't even broken skin.

"My blood spilled, bravo," he drawled sarcastically. "Really, what were you hoping to achieve?"

The Guardian huffed indignantly and blew a stray lock of hair out of her face. "Let me go."

"And what would you do if I let you go?" he hummed.

"I know there's no point in running."

"But it would be so much fun to hunt you down."

She looked back down at the water. "Can I finish?"

Finish? Heat swelled within his chest again. Oh, he really was in a state, wasn't he? How had this worthless little creature captured his attention? 

Rhulk smirked behind his mask and cocked his head. "Finish what?"

"My bath."

He should just kill her now, snap her in half and be done with it. Show her she was truly irrelevant and move on with his business. Return to his experiments, although those hadn't been exactly fulfilling as of late. He was feeling…

Listless.

Frustrated.

And worse, aroused.

"Is that how your species bathes themselves?" he replied. "How odd."

She shrank back from him as he brought her in closer. "That—that was…" She squeezed her legs together and brought her knees to her chest. Her flesh was so, so supple. 

"Yes?"

"Private."

"Oh, well, my deepest apologies." He placed her back in the water, trailing fingers over her hips as he let her go. "But you wanted my attention, didn't you?"

She covered her breasts again and looked around, exasperated. "I… Yes, but—"

"And now you have it. I wouldn't waste it if I were you." 

She eyed him up and down. With a sigh, she gestured dismissively towards the pool. "Fine. Stay."

Rhulk bowed deeply and with a wave of his hand the water shuddered. The Guardian clung to the edge of the pool as it unfolded. It grew exponentially in size and graduated in depth, heated water quickly filling the vacant space. He spared a glance toward the Guardian—her eyes were still fixed on him. Good. She watched him remove his armour with a flick of his wrist and wade into the water. He smiled at her, sharpened teeth revealed in a deadly display. Only then did she finally look away.

It would be a lie if he said he didn't find the heated pool to be pleasant. He hummed, drawing the Lightbearer's attention briefly before she turned her back to him and tore a strip from some article of clothing. Her back was straight and soft. Powerful. Her skin reminded him of something, the way the light of the stars drifted over her shoulders… A ceramic from an insignificant species. He found himself drifting toward her, the pads of his fingers pressed to the bottom of the pool, pulling himself closer until he was nearly behind her, up to his neck in the water. Had that species also been touched by the stars like the Awoken? He couldn't recall.

She turned around and paused when she saw how close he was. He hesitated in his approach, but continued forward when she didn't say anything or back away. The piece of fabric she'd retrieved bubbled as she pushed it underwater. 

"If you're thinking of drowning me, I'd appreciate it if you didn't," she said.

"Don't worry, you'll know when I decide to kill you," Rhulk purred.

The deep lavender blush of her skin never left. In fact, it had spread. Down from her cheeks and neck to the tops of her shoulders, which remained as square and defiant as ever. Unabashed and unafraid.

Satisfied, she wrapped the material around her hand and began to run it over her body. Over arms and neck, chest and belly. Still watching him from the corner of her eye. "You haven't killed my Ghost yet either."

The nonchalance of the comment caught him off guard. He'd forgotten he implied he had found it and was keeping it. Soon enough that would be the truth, but for now… "Would you like me to? Or maybe you'd like to do it yourself."

"What do you want?"

"You ended one of your own," he mused.

She cocked a thick eyebrow at him. "Like you haven't?"

"Why?"

"Why did you wipe out your people?"

"They were weak. Undeserving. Liars and traitors." He came closer, sending a small wave of water over the edge of the pool as he trapped her between his arms, a hand on either side. "What were you doing?"

"Bathing," she replied curtly.

"Hm. Before I let myself be known you seemed to be enjoying yourself. This is different." She said nothing and a low hum of laughter resonated in his throat. "A shame I had to ruin it."

"That… Look." Washcloth pressed to the back of her neck, she narrowed her eyes at him and quickly looked away. "It's been—It—that's just how I blow off steam, alright? What do you do when you've got pent up energy to burn?" She was getting defensive. Flustered. And he was only growing more excited.

He simply stared at her and tightened his grip on the edge of the pool. "Take a wild guess."

The Guardian's mouth pressed into a thin line. "I don't need to. I've seen the bodies."

He took the cloth from her hands, and she let it slip from her fingers with ease. He was already getting to her. Already winning this silent battle. "Do many of your kind pleasure themselves when they are frustrated?" 

White eyes followed his hand as he set the cloth aside. "S—some of us. Not all. So you… know what I was… doing."

"Of course," he said matter-of-factly. "You think after seeing as many civilizations as I have that I would be unwise to such things? I've seen thousands of beings debase themselves, throw themselves to the whims of lust for escape. The only thing that differs is how they do it. I am not a naive child, little one. I am older than your precious Sol. I have lain with plenty and there are many more who have tried. Out of fear, respect, subservience, devotion. Hatred. Anger. Pride." The last word rolled from the back of his throat in a hoarse, vicious rasp. He was provoking her—

"Love?" Her fists clenched, knuckles turning bluish.

—and it was working.

He barked out a sharp laugh. It cut through the air, making the Guardian wince. "Love. Wouldn't you like to know what I have done out of love. Tell me, when you take your mate, is it out of love? Or is it simply primal instinct? Desperation for survival written like scripture into your very neurons. Can your kind even breed?"

"Does it matter?" she snapped.

He smiled, eyes narrowing. "Not at all. Their reasons mean nothing to me; they all die in the end."

"Great," she grunted as she pulled herself out of the water. "Well if you don't mind now that I'm done explaining myself to you, and you're very obviously not going to tell me what I want to know, I'd like to finish what I started. Kindly fuck off."

With a pivot of her hips, she pulled her legs from the water. Ethereal skin sat in contrast to the jet black floor, water pooling gently across its surface. Her back was half to him by the time he wrapped his fingers around her calves. "Show me."

Her eyes darted from his hand to his face. "Show you… what?"

Rhulk guided her gently back to the water. The heat in his chest had spread, seeped into his bones and limbs and devolved into a deep and penetrating ache. "How your kind pleasures themselves."

She blinked. "What?"

"I make it a point to study the physiology of all those I meet, to see if they are… compatible with certain aspects of my work. I do not often get the enjoyment of a willing specimen." And never in quite such a perverse manner.

She looked like she might strike him; he didn't hate the notion. "Who said I was willing?"

"Perhaps I misread this situation. I am not a monster. I can take my pleasure in other ways, but I tend to prefer company." He curved the back of a finger against her cheek and she flinched away from his touch—normally such a reaction would have delighted him. And it did, in a way. But this was not exactly what he had envisioned. "Do you want peace, child of light? Do you want me to leave so you can think about me instead of knowing the truth?"

She shivered against his hand as he played with her hair, her fists balled in her lap. "The truth?"

"Of what you want. I've seen the way you look at me, your fascination with my conquests. The way you watch me shed the blood of your ilk… And now I find you pleasuring yourself in my realm. There is a very important lesson here for the both of us, I think."

"I think you're projecting," she said through clenched teeth. "You're the one who's been stalking me, watching me bathe. Wanting me to… to—"

"Oh, very good! You are observant. Yes, it seems I have some sort of interest in you, for now. But for how long? Why not make the best of it while you have my attention. Perhaps you'll live longer. Or I could devour you right now if you prefer? Is it death you seek?"

He opened his mouth. Long, needle-like teeth separated to make way for the vicious curl of his tongue. Her scent was heavy on the air and her skin tasted of salt and copper.

"I'm not afraid of death." The vibration of her voice was sweet between his teeth. 

"Neither was I," he whispered.

He looked down at her—she was trembling. Frozen in place. His mood soured and he pulled away in distaste. Not like this. He didn't want her like this.

"Very well," he sighed. "Take your peace. Find me when you are done. Then I will—"

"Wait." The Guardian's head bowed, hair covering her face. Her pulse quickened as she fidgeted with her hands, nearly pounding in his ears.

It hadn't been fear that made her pull away from him, had it? Rhulk carefully hooked a finger under her chin and guided her focus to him. "Show me. Be honest about what you want, what you are. Let me be your salvation, Lightbearer."

"Only if you show me." 

Rhulk paused. A game? Was she trying to goad him, toy with him somehow? Fine. He would play along. Let her think she was digging her claws into him. 

"Show you what?" he asked, far too innocently.

"How… how you…"

"Yes?"

"How you—" she weakly motioned toward his body. "—You know. It's only fair if—if I…"

She couldn't even say it. Amusement narrowed his eyes and he cooed gently, "Oh. You'll have to earn that privilege."

A soft moan, delicate and airy, tumbled from her lips. Every species sang a different song when their bodies were stimulated. Most didn't find another’s alluring, it was simply not in their genetics. But hers he found… delightful. She had spread her legs. Her feet were still in the pool and her hand was wandering. He eased himself back into the water up to his shoulders, his eyes fixed with hers until he dragged his focus lower.

Her fingers wove through the aubergine hair nestled between her hips and she parted herself, slipping her fingers between her folds. She sighed her song again, and this time, he echoed it. The sound left him unwittingly. An odd thing to lose control over, and he was losing control. He felt himself growing in her wake. Felt his need engorging of its own accord. Water rushed over his arms as he traced his fingers up the insides of her thighs and nudged them open further. Her lips were dark lavender, turning pink the deeper they went.

His fingers brushed against where she was parted, following her own hand. The resulting whimper coaxed forth another rattling sigh from his breast. There was something there, something small and delicate that she was stimulating. 

She pulled her hand away, eyes drifting from his hand to where hers had lingered. "You… really are just curious, aren't you?"

"For now," he chuckled.

Carefully, with the tips of his fingers, he pulled back its hood. Her pearl was swollen, engorged. Blood had rushed the area. It was oddly like his own sex, although much less prominent. He stroked it once and her body shuddered. Again, and she was glistening. Not just from the water, but from her arousal as well. He could easily scent her. He was salivating; amusing that such a small thing could be capable of reducing both of them to this.

During this exploration, her eyes had closed. Rhulk dug his fingers into the skin of her thigh. Not quite hard enough to break skin, but the Guardian yelped and her eyes snapped open.

"I'm not going to do it for you," he said. "And keep your eyes up, Guardian. I've come to enjoy you watching me."

Silently, she replaced his fingers with her own and carried on her pace. Her legs began to shake and the pitch of her sighs shifted. Became louder. Feet braced against the bottom of the pool, Rhulk found his hips moving unwittingly in time with her moans. As if he were the one pulling this song from her. He pushed her knees apart when they tried to close, raked fingers over her skin when her eyelids grew heavy. Her belly flexed as her other hand came up to her breast and her fingers eased inside herself. 

Inside? So there was more. How much could she take? Would her body swallow him? All of h—

There must have been something in his expression. Perhaps a glint akin to thirst or wonder in his eyes, because for a second, she looked smug. But if it had been there, her expression was gone just as quickly. Replaced by pained bliss as she curled her fingers. Sweat beaded across her chest and ran down between her breasts in little rivulets with the remnants of the water. A curse caught in her throat and her hand worked harder. Suddenly, she cried out. The sound ricochet off the walls and she quickly clamped a hand over her mouth, letting her breast fall. 

Rhulk laughed, mirth settling into a groan. He hooked a finger around her arm and pulled her hand away. "Easy, little one. No one will hear you. Well, the Scorn might, but they're not interested. Oh, and any other Guardians that may be on their way to see me. I can never really be sure when they'll show up, but it's always at the most inconvenient time. What would they say if they saw you like this, hm?"

He hummed with delight at the abashed look on her face, and furthermore, that her pleasure didn't stop. 

"Do you enjoy that notion? The idea of being put on display?" he asked.

She nodded eagerly, fingers plunging deeper. 

"My. What if I watched them take turns with you? I'm curious to see how your species couples. Though I have my suspicions…" He passed a palm over her breast, but she slowed her pleasure. Withdrew from his touch. Odd. He tilted his head. "Do you not care for your own kind?"

She shook her head and whimpered as the blade of his finger ran across her jaw. "I don't take other Guardians. Humans, Awoken, Exos... Others. But not… them."

"Never?" She would lay with him over others of her kind? Of course she would. She would be a fool not to if he was open to her. Still, this filled him with pride. "That's all right. I deeply dislike sharing my possessions anyway."

His tongue wove between her legs, skirting the edges of her sex. Her eyes grew wide and her brows pitched together. She gasped and thrust her fingers harder into herself, slick sounds echoing through the room. Heat radiated from her in pulsating waves. Drawing him in. Filling his mind with all manner of perversion.

"Do you like the idea of being mine?" he sighed. Her skin was satin under his palms as he ran his hands over her hips and tugged her closer to the edge of the pool. "Tell me, have you done this before? Have you thought of me while satisfying yourself?" 

The answer was in her eyes, but she didn't speak. Rhulk moved closer and she shrank back ever so slightly. 

"It's all right," he purred. "You can share with me, there are no judgments here… Yet."

"I have," she whimpered.

A smile sheared his mouth. "Finally, she speaks the truth."

She was shaking. Rhulk wrapped a hand behind her trembling body and she fell against his palm, hot skinned. Her back arched as her cries went unfiltered. Tension built between his legs, but he didn't want to reveal himself just yet. The wall of the pool was cold as he pressed his hips up against it. Kept his sex trapped within him. Truth be told, he wouldn't have minded being the one who was penetrated, but for him to submit to such a creature… well, it would have been a game. Perhaps she would like to pretend to lay claim to him, or he could mock her while giving up his body. The next time such a need decided to devour both of them, he would show her.

The thought had him breathing hard, as did watching her unravel like this. He ran a finger down the center of her chest. "What is wrong, little one? You seem to be struggling."

"I… I'm… Fuck." She was close. There were tells, signs. Some of which he had encountered before. Her pupils were dilated, her scent rich on the air, and her folds soaked with desire. 

"Are you?" he whispered. "Show me."

A command. Instruction. Purpose.

Eyes still locked with his, her expression twisted and her body came alive. What a sight that was.

"That's it, there you are," he purred. "Petty, credulous little thing. Desperate creature. Your bliss. It's all for me, only for me. Isn't that right?"

Her hair clung to her face and neck, her eyes half lidded and dazed. He dipped his head and drank of her. She tried to sit up, but he held her, revelling in how she shook. How she spilled further over his tongue. He'd never had an Awoken before, let alone a Lightbearer. He could taste the Light in her. That too bright sliver of hope and defiance that seared his tongue. Would she taste his Dark in kind? He continued to lap her up eagerly. Her hands braced against his head while he held her legs open, his mouth finding more than just nectar. Teeth met with delicate skin and muscle honed for war. And she was sweet. Silken. She cried out and fractured once more, hips gyrating as her bliss poured out over him.

"Again?" he asked with mock surprise, pulling away. "Selfish, too. Typical Lightbearer."

"Selfish?" she panted. "You're the one who decided to—woah!"

Rhulk scooped her up, grinning at her startled yelp, and reclined in the pool. Once settled with his feet propped up on the other side, he dropped the Guardian into his chest.

"Ah. Much more comfortable," he sighed.

She picked herself up and pushed her hair out of her face. "Rude."

"I never agreed to be polite."

The Guardian turned her attention to his body. He wasn't soft like her. His feet and hands, yes, and other certain parts of him, but otherwise very little about him had give. Through the curtain of her hair she gave him a cautious eye which he returned, expressionless. She ran her fingertips over the ridges of his chest and the notches in his sides, conducting her own timid exploration. He allowed this.

Eventually she laid back against him. This time, her free hand caressed him while the other went to work. Her fingers skipped over his clavicle, brushed the tender flesh of his neck. It wasn't long before her moans were echoing freely once more and his hands were wandering over her body. Having this little thing laid out overtop him and so obviously enjoying the pressure of his being felt… good. It had been a long time since he'd wanted to bury himself in something. Someone. She may have been able to penetrate herself, but it was looking doubtful that she could even take the smallest part of him. He'd broken willing bodies before, those who had given themselves over to him to do as he pleased. But she could entertain him for a very long time if he kept her whole. He could have her submit again and again. A Guardian. A servant to the Adversary, yet she bowed to him. And he was enjoying the way she bowed. 

His gradually swelling self finally slipped free from its confines to lay across his stomach, water lapping at its sides. Crimson and ridged, still growing with need. He had always been slow to rise. Slow to build. Slow to arrive. After a moment of surprise, the Guardian laughed. Chimes in the air. He hated the sound, but it made his legs twitch. Made his groin ache.

"Looks like I'm not the only one who's desperate," she half sang.

He barely registered her movement and when he looked down, she was on her knees, cradling the head of his flesh in her hands. Her tongue swiped over the crown and a jolt of electricity shot through his body, forcing a cry from his lungs—one he barely stopped in time. It wasn't Arc. He was familiar with that sensation. This was different: not pain, but biological. Chemical. She couldn't know she affected him so deeply. A bead of arousal formed at the very tip and she cooed, praising him. Praising him— he was reeling. Never had he been so affected by another, except perhaps for his Witness, but that made sense. This attraction absolutely did not make sense. Perhaps that was why he was enjoying it. 

"All because of me?" Celeste looked up at him.

Celeste. 

This being had a name and one that was quickly worming into his memory. She turned her attention back to his member. The muscles of her back rippled as she rubbed him, powerful hands digging into him. Rhulk allowed his head to fall back and a groan caught in his throat. Who was he to deny himself pleasure, if this Guardian wanted to debase herself and service him?

"I didn't think a disciple could fall so low."

He barked out a laugh at the Guardian's wry comment, but was cut short as her mouth began to wander, stroking and suckling what she could. He was almost fully engorged now. 

Rhulk steeled himself and brought his hands around to her chest. He had seen her stimulate herself like this… Perhaps he could as well. Oh, she was so very soft. Voluptuous. Her hardened nipples dragged against the tips of his fingers and she gasped. 

"Nor I a Lightbearer," he purred. "You assume I have fallen, but tell me, which one of us would be shunned for such an act? Which of us would be labelled traitor?"

Her breathing picked up as he cupped her breasts. "I—I'm not."

He twisted her peaks between his fingers, carefully, gently, stealing her words with a moan. He whispered, "Liar."

"Like I care what they think. I n—never had a choice. I didn't want—Light." Her chest heaved and she squirmed under his touch. Pressing into him while trying to get away. Overstimulated. Raw.

"Now you have a say," Rhulk chuckled. "A decision to make. A new purpose before you, or so to speak." He let go and ran his fingers down her spine. "I am curious to see what you think of me. I believe you've earned it."

His hand found himself for the first time in… he had lost track. Centuries, perhaps. He drifted his fingers up its back, fanning the semi-soft spines that lined its ridge. Celeste's small gasp of awe parted his teeth in vicious satisfaction. She reached out to one of his spines and his body tensed, hips arching under the feather-light touch—she had found arguably the most sensitive part of him. The edge of the pool bit into his back with his spasm; pain he didn't mind. His strokes lengthened, but remained just the tips of his fingers while he watched her intently. He was teasing, toying with himself. It had been a while since he had been so self-indulgent, why not do it when he had a plaything to keep him entertained. His touch tightened as he wrapped a hand fully around himself.

Suddenly, she stopped him, her hand braced against his wrist. She sat with her legs apart before him. His breath caught in his chest—what was she thinking? He allowed her to guide him between her legs, allowed her to nestle the tip of his sex into hers. Heat met with heat and his next breath left him dizzy. It took everything in his power not to thrust into her. He flexed and pulled himself from her delicate grasp, earning a disappointed yelp.

"Don't be stupid," he rasped. "It will kill you. And as much as I would enjoy that, I have plans for you yet." A thought came to him: she had wanted refuge, no? Freedom from her light? Rhulk ran his fingers over the insides of her legs and kept them spread, arcing his hips so his member slid over her body. "Unless you want to be remade in the Deep?"

She froze. "I…"

"Tell me," he pressed. "When your Ghost remakes you, is it painful?"

He laid her back, two fingers hooked over her waist and his thumb rubbing her sweetly, teasing her opening; she wasn't nearly as small as he thought. Perhaps he could fit some part of himself inside of her after all. If he could will himself to withstand the crushing depths of Fundament, he could will himself into this being.

Fingernails raked down his breast and her hips rose with his movements, grinding herself against him. "Y—yes."

"When I was remade, my broken body mended and given new life, I felt euphoria. I felt pleasure. Power. Would you give up your Light simply so you can lay with me? To taste that power? Could you, even?"

The violent hue of the Upended sent orange beams of light over her curves and caught like flame in the rippling surface of the water as the tip of his finger eased into her. A moan accompanied the arch of her body and he felt her flutter around him. His hand mirrored the reaction around his member. An ancient curse in his long-dead language sat on his tongue. 

"I—I don't know," she stammered. "Oh, hell."

Hell. A concept present in many civilizations. Torment. Purgatory. Limbo. Death and pain and life and sin.

The ring he wore glinted in the light as he began to rock the finger inside of her, gently easing it out before ushering it back in. Her head fell back, thick hair curling around her shoulders. Her hands met his finger, guided him. Felt him. He watched the gentle bounce of her breasts, watched her part and coat his skin. 

This was Hell.

"I think you know." His hand slid over his member, spines twitching and aching for her flesh. "You are enjoying this perversion of your so–called destiny. You are thriving off this torment. Look at yourself, being serviced by a disciple. Let your will fracture. Let it be remade as I was, as I am. Tell me what you want from me."

A small hand ran up his chest, her voice was merely a breath between sighs: "I don't want to suffer anymore."

He pulled his finger free of her and brought it to his tongue. A resonant moan caught in his throat as he tasted her. Her Light was so strong. Perhaps he could have it for himself. "What else?"

"I don't want to be alone."

His hand squeezed around his erection, making flesh throb. "You are alone. You will always be alone. But don't worry, the darkness will not abandon you. I, kind Rhulk, will not leave you to suffer in the light."

"Rhulk," she echoed.

There was power in a name. Whatever small foothold she had claimed within his being, he had given her that purchase. A mistake, if there ever had been one. 

"A privilege, little one. And one I will allow. Do not waste it," he hissed. An opportunity as well, if she were clever. Like Uun.

He rocked his hips upwards and pushed the tip of his member against her entrance once more.

"W—wait!" she gasped. "You—you said—"

He wrapped a hand over her mouth and hushed her with a dark laugh. "Let my will guide you, wash over you. Let it take you. Embrace it."

He felt the moment he entered her, the moment his arousal mixed with hers. Her pleasured cry went muffled against his palm and he ushered himself inside of her at a slow and methodical pace. He filled her, barely up to his crown, but that was enough. The little being laid out overtop of him tensed and fell apart in a mesmerising cascade. He slipped further inside her with a surprised hiss—her body opened to him, welcomed him, because she wanted this. His thumb caught a spine and an ion storm of pleasure shot through his limbs. Darkness fractured as he drew his hips away, only for reality to erupt with his next thrust. He held the Lightbearer carefully against his body, her arms wrapped around his fingers and her pleasure shattering his decorum. She was everywhere and everything around him. The perfect shape. Space and time bent to his will. His hands wove over her skin, his face buried in a memory of her hair. Through the twisted haze that had become the air and water around them, he brushed his finger over the little bead that had started it all. The pool was liquid starlight, her body radiating void and flame. Hips rolled, his sex penetrating the liminal space that had become her. More , she begged for, and more he gave. Her body did not bend nor break. Even when she had taken him up to the hilt, she lay pristine and writhing with pleasure in his lap. Her name echoed through him in every language he had ever tasted. Nebulae formed in the time he took with her. Stars were born and died in an instant.

He was fast approaching his limit. It wouldn't be much longer before–

]]]Finality.[[[

Spines flared and caught within her, and held her. Claimed her. She cried out, her walls squeezing around him. 

]]]Pain. Savoured.[[[

Heat swelled and rushed his member. Now. It was now . Rhulk pushed himself up onto the edge of the pool, doubled over, and clutched the Guardian against him. She ground her hips into him, met him as he did the same. 

]]]A warm embrace. Searing need. Sweet ash.[[[

His moans and gasps echoed through time, drowning out the bliss she sang of as she quickly followed in his path. 

]]]Deeper. Burrow deeper. Soft. So soft.[[[

Darkness flooded into light. 

]]]Lie still.[[[

Death coalescing with misplaced life. 

]]]Drown. Lie still.[[[

Warmth poured from him as he filled her. She took it all. Graciously. Willingly. Her. Guardian. Celeste.

]]]Celeste. Celeste. Celeste.[[[

]]]Rapture. Traitor. Student.[[[

He remained still, panting and reeling while the pleasure subsided. Neither of them could go anywhere until his body allowed them.

A husky, airy voice drifted up from between his hands. "What… what was that? I thought you…"

"What? That I would remake you?" Rhulk groaned as he ran his tongue over her back, bucking his hips. He could feel himself softening inside of her, feel her still clinging to him. Celeste gasped, trying to raise her hips and failing. "Stay still, little one. Lest I tear you apart far too soon. The more you move the longer it will take."

"R—Rhulk," she whimpered.

Oh, it felt good to hear his name. "Quiet. Let me savour you."

They clung to one another in silence, Celeste fluttering around him with every movement.

Finally, his body released its hold on her. Celeste shivered as he slipped free of her. Cursed when she saw the size of him and quickly looked herself over. Breathed relief when she saw she was unscathed. He had expected her to run the second it was over, but she stayed. Nor did she pull away when he held her closer. No horror or dawning realisation disturbed her features. Instead, she relaxed in his grasp and fell back against him, her breaths slow and measured. 

"Stop staring," she muttered. Amusing, she hadn't even looked up at him. Not the response he had expected, either.

"Are you still ashamed of your natural state?" he chuckled.

Celeste rolled her eyes and pushed his hands away. He could have easily held her, but he allowed her to wriggle free. There would be other times when he could watch her struggle.

"No. I just need to clean—" Her eyes widened and she frantically scrambled out of his lap. "Shit! Oh, no no no!"

With a curious hum, he looked over: water had flooded the entire area and washed away most of her camp, the pool now much less full than it had been. Regal and poised, Rhulk rose with his wrists clasped behind his back. The Guardian at his feet threw on her clothing with the same lack of decorum in which she had shed them and tore through her bags, leaving various books and other instruments out to dry. Rich colours leached from her belongings. Inks, perhaps. The colours blurred into a tapestry. A memory. Sapphiric life and Umbral death, with an abyss yawning between. Virulent red armour rematerialised over his body as he dragged his gaze away.

"Find me once you are done here," he said. His words had left him almost unknowingly. Absent-mindedly. A secondary thought. Intended, but not direct. Not an order.

The air shimmered around her, rich with solar heat. Her hair and clothes were already starting to dry when she paused. Brow furrowed, Celeste eyed him warily. 

"I have somewhere better suited for your stay so that I may keep you under observation." Somewhere to lure her Ghost out into the open, and when the time came, somewhere to prove herself.

Her eyes darted to her weapon, wondrously spared from the flood. "On what conditions?"

The white collar and mask he wore blossomed into existence just slow enough for her to catch his vicious grin—he could hear her heartbeat. And with it, the familiar hum of resonance. Darkness had taken root. It would take time to grow that seed, but she would be a powerful weapon. That heart and mind would yet be his to command.

"And here I thought you said you didn't want to be alone," he hummed. "Consider it a form of… hospitality."

In a blink, Rhulk vanished. He reformed at the base of the Upended and as he walked up the steps, he could hear her voice echoing after him in the distance.

She was going to be his favourite lesson.