Sentience... what a beautiful experience.

  For its entire existence, life was something akin to a dream.

  A dream—Awareness without direction, action without will. A thing that simply was, without thought or question.

  It knew so much now, nourished on the rich knowledge of the deceased human it had possessed alongside its brethren.

  Human—A vessel of emotion, thought and creation.

  It recalled the information the collective had integrated.

  Eva Peters was her name. She was a young woman, only twenty-six years old. Her cherry hair was short, her skin tanned from long exposure to the sun from hours of toiling in the forge. She held out longer than most, using a simple hammer to beat back the goblins before she was eventually overwhelmed.

  When they first arrived, she was so terribly frightened, clinging to her beautiful light.

  Now, she is us, and we are her.

  Now, she sees the world for the beautiful gem we always saw.

  Gem—Light trapped in stone, cut, polished and remade into something new. Beauty that is never lost, only transformed.

  There were no words to describe the euphoric bliss their collective experienced in their new world, living and breathing through their new body. Their vision was clear and crisp, with all the vivid colours they had dreamed of experiencing jumping out in front of them. The sounds of footsteps, creaking boards and the cracking of fires tickled their eardrums.

  The blood running down their form was warm and slick to the touch, adding a new, wonderful colour to their body and clothing. Scouping the warm liquid onto their fingers, they lapped at it with their tongue, tasting the salty and metallic goodness that it had to offer. The explosion of flavour was like nothing they had ever experienced, and they quickly sucked every drop they had acquired down.

  The smell was perhaps the most unique part of their experience. The odor of copper, rot and fecal matter was intense, permeating the air inside the building. They breathed it in deep, burning each and every sensation they could into their memories. Their collective joy translated to a wide smile that stretched across their face.

  “Beautiful,” They spoke their first word, marvelling at the sound of their own voice. It was deep, smooth, but had a hint of playfulness to it. “Beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful,” They repeated to themselves, quickly becoming obsessed.

  Obsessive—A loving focus on, complete devotion to their desire.

  Surveying the room, she saw blue and orange lights beaming in through the window, reflecting magnificently off the blood and gore spread throughout the workshop. Glancing over to the nearby door, it was clear it had been broken down from the outside, the handle ripped from the wood with large gouges sunk into it. It was clear force had been used to break their way in, though the only occupant left was themselves.

  With difficulty, they moved one foot in front of the other. At one point, they slipped on the crimson stained floor, collapsing to the ground, only to rise again without the experience dimming their spirits. The fresh ache they felt was new to them, the burning sensation across the impact zone a welcome bedfellow in their pursuit of beauty in all things.

  “Beautiful,” they called again, finally exiting the back door of the building into some sort of open-air forge and smithy. It was tucked away behind rows of houses, some way from the center of the village, though was so distinct in design that it would be hard to miss should you pass it by.

  It enjoyed the layout, the cold metal used to create fantastic weapons, most of which had either been pilfered or was scattered across the floor. While it wanted to spend more time marvelling at the everything, the collective will of its brethren bid they move on.

  On their way down the short steps that elevated the forge from the street, they passed a sword that had yet to be taken from its holder. Searching its assimilated knowledge, it learned that the blade was forged just that week and had yet to see any use. Its fine steel reflected the blue from the floating sphere hanging over the village, glimmering like the moon across a gentle lake. It was… beautiful.

  As part of the collective will of Eva, it submitted they claim the sword for themselves. However, while it was enticed by the weapon, the others didn’t see it that way. They had already seen plenty of swords, and this world had so much left to offer that weighing themselves down with a single object would prove more detrimental than beneficial. In short, its suggestion was rejected.

  It was then something strange occurred within the soul and body of Eva Peters. Throughout its entire life, it had always fallen in line with the collective will of their brethren, accepting any majority decision without question. This time seemed different, however. Despite the matter already being proposed and rejected, it still didn’t want to leave the sword.

  As the rest of the body pressed onward, a finger twitched on Eva’s left hand. Then, as they passed by the weapon’s rack on their way down the steps, the hand moved, gripping the handle of the sword.

  At first, it didn’t know what it had done. It was simply following its desire for beauty, a core part of their very existence, which it saw and desired in that blade. It was only when the whole body froze, its head slowly turning to see what sensation had affected their palm, did it understand what had happened.

  The smile dropped from Eva’s face, as a strange discordant shudder moved through the body.

  In an instant, it was ripped from its position within the collective and placed into… it was difficult to describe.

  If the body was considered a house, with seats for everyone to make decisions as a group, then, it had just been exiled from that building and was left standing in the garden.

  At first, the sudden isolation from the group left it unable to move or think clearly. All the voices running through its mind had been silenced, all the assistance it provided and received halting as it was left paralysed on the grass. It took a few moments to understand what this new existence even was, so bizarre and jarring that it struggled to understand what beauty could be found in this situation.

  Why did they do that to it? All it wanted to do was admire the sword, yet it was separated from the collective. Finding its feet, it looked through the home’s window and was surprised to see the collective’s eyes looking back at it, as if observing.

  It inquired about the meaning of this decision, but no answer came. The collective merely watched as vague discussions could be heard inside. This was new. Even in the direst of circumstances, the collective would always provide some sort of answer to queries. Again, it repeated its question about this decision, but no answer came, only the stares of everyone within the house.

  There was no precedent for this action within the collective. It was almost as if it was being rejected by its brethren. Searching the knowledge of Eva, it found something like what was transpiring.

  This was… a punishment.

  Punishment—repercussions of one’s actions, used as a means of correction.

  Correction—The reshaping of beauty into a more perfect form.

  Did it require correction? That didn’t make sense, it only wanted to pursue beauty, as all others in the collective wanted, so why was he being singled out for this treatment? Surely its desire for beauty was as valid as all others.

  Believing this to be some terrible mistake, it tried to open the door. When it touched the handle, however, it briefly felt a connection back to the collective.

  Hesitation—Pause, time needed for understanding.

  Foreign—Outsider, alien, unknown.

  Afraid—Fear, scared of something or someone.

  Just as quickly as the connection was made, it was severed, and the door remained locked. That brief reconnection was enough to explain everything it needed to know.

  The collective was afraid of it.

  Though minutes had passed within the soul, barely a few seconds had passed by in the real world. To an outside observer, Eva had suddenly frozen up after grabbing the handle of her sword, as if contemplating, before finally releasing her grip.

  Briefly, they checked their wrists, ensuring that it was under their control once more. This was perhaps the first unattractive thing they’d ever come across.

  From the garden, it could only observe the movements of Eva. It could not submit commands to the collective nor vote on decisions.

  With the anomaly taken care of, they looked back towards the sky. Dozens of nooses were swarming the village, originating from the bright blue orb that hung overhead. As they observed, they saw many of their brethren scouped up by the ropes and tossed around like ragdolls.

  This sight was enough to restore the smile to Eva’s face. What a beautiful sight it was.

  “Beautiful,” they expressed.

  Suddenly, there was movement in the corner of their eyes. Turning rapidly to face it, they witnessed a girl, 4’5 in height with messy, raven black hair and red eyes that matched her dress, phase through the adjacent building and onto the street in front of them. Though she appeared tired, her actions suggested anything but. She was frantically scanning her surroundings in search of something.

  For a moment, their eyes met. Eva’s smile grew wider at meeting this girl. They instantly knew that she was not one of their brethren and therefore was a potential vessel to harbour more of their kin. All they’d have to do is find a way to open up her closed soul.

  The girl’s expression hovered around annoyance. Clearly, she didn’t want anything to do with what they had planned. That was fine, however. For the sake of sharing the beauty of this world with the others, she would be made to comply.

  “Beautiful,” they approached, hoping to open her neck with their teeth.

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  “I don’t have time for you drights!” The girl yelled, raising a hand in front of herself before violently gesturing towards them, as if trying to swat them aside. Though the gesture lacked the power to move the 5’5, toned blacksmith aside, the noose that came rushing at her from the flank certainly did.

  The open loop closed around her throat like a jaw, sealing itself around her neck as though it was never opened to begin with. They fought for grip, but the unnatural force guiding the noose was overwhelming. All they could do was allow themselves to be carried off. This too, however, was a beautiful experience.

  Unable to stop, they skidded across the flagstone, out of the village streets and slammed into an invisible barrier. Their head cracked against the solid surface, their bright red blood splattering across the transparent wall.

  Powerless, the exile continued to watch from the garden as the collective fell into discussion. As always, the dialogue was short, and some of their brethren disappeared from the house, never to return. It didn’t have to be a part of the conversation to understand what had happened. Though they could operate Eva’s body so long as the soul space was properly connected, they had a responsibility to repair any damage caused under their watch. Those that left were sacrificing themselves.

  Eva’s arms gripped onto the noose as it closed tighter around their throat, their feet kicking at the air. Breathing became impossible, their eyes rolling up to the sky and foaming at the mouth as the life was choked out of them. Despite their efforts to free themselves, their head would doubtless be torn from their body very soon.

  The world seemed to pull away from them, the peripheral fading at first, then turning black as if their eyes were looking through a narrow tube, accompanied by a high-pitched ringing in their ears. As they felt the flesh tearing, the shapes in their vision began to blur together. The Exile was envious of the others for being able to directly experience every facet of such beauty, while it could only see it’s view of the outside world grow dark. It grew envious, wishing nothing more than to rejoin the collective as soon as possible.

  A blur of metal flew into view, and they suddenly found themselves collapsing to the ground. Something beige rapidly removed itself from the area, leaving behind a killer necklace that remained tied around their throat. It was still too hazy to see what was happening, though the pressure around them had relieved, if only slightly. Now, they were merely being choked rather than risking their head being ripped off.

  Something clumsily scratched at their throat, digging into the flesh as their fingertips wedged themselves between the rope and their neck. Looking towards their helper, they appeared only as a small, green blur.

  A gritty, sawing sound permeated the air as the noose around their neck was cut away, until the pressure around their throat finally released. The feeling of cold air flooding their starved lungs and body was the second greatest the collective had ever experienced, only standing behind the very first they had ever taken.

  Their vision hurried to refocus on the person that had just saved them. If it was one of them, they’d offer a hearty thanks. If it wasn’t, they’d open their soul to be filled like the rest.

  What they found was a goblin, deformed from its original state from repeated deaths, a byproduct of their method of healing. Its right arm was bloated, carrying tumours that swelled two or three times its original size, with tight, leathery skin covering the same arm and most of its head and torso. It was armed with some sort of sharpened rock, but kept a steel sword nearby, the same shade of metal that blurred into vision only moments ago. The exile even recognised it as one of Eva’s from the forge. If it could, it would have very much liked to reach out and take it.

  “Beautiful… Thank you,” Eva spoke on their behalf. Their lungs burned as they tested their motor control. All appeared to be in working order. Checking the back of their head, they were pleased to find their wound healed up. The only mark left on their body was a purple bruise wrapping around their throat. However, given its unique beauty, the collective decided not to waste their brethren in its healing.

  “Newborn. Come,” the goblin ordered, already walking away with its sword grasped in its grotesque hand, It’s voice deep and echoey. Curious, and seeing no reason to object, the collective obeyed.

  ---

  The rumbling from above was still noticeable, even from the cellar. The room itself was dark, lit only by torch and candlelight.

  Standing present inside the room was a mixture of their brethren. Humans and goblins made up the bulk of their numbers, while some hobgoblins and a much larger creature, known as an orc, were also present, despite how cramped they were in such a confined space.

  Among them, some were like Eva, newborns and fresh to the world after assimilating their hosts. Others had been around for a while with the scars to prove it, with more than a few baring deformities that they wore like badges of honour. Someone who wasn’t present was the goblin that brought them there, who left for the invisible border immediately after dropping her off.

  “There are no exits. We are trapped inside this bubble,” One man spoke, leathering skin wrapping the right side of his head, his voice echoing within the space.

  “The small lapse our brethren exploited to escape has long since been patched, and the girl guards the orb, locking down any form of escape,” a goblin told, large tumours covering various parts of his body.

  “The girl has to die.”

  “Yes, the girl has to die.”

  “Kill the girl, free the world.” Various voices agreed, a collective decision quickly being made. The exile, cut off from such reasoning, was puzzled by their choice of words.

  Kill—The permanent end of function, death caused by others.

  While is own collective agreed with the decision, he wasn’t decided on the idea. There was no reason why them and her could not find a more reasonable solution. If she cannot be opened up like the others, could they not speak to the girl and learn what she sought in trapping us here? Would that not be the most beautiful approach?

  Once more, it tried to voice its opinion, but it was fruitless. The exile couldn’t help but feel increasingly detached from it’s collective, questioning their decision making.

  A villager stepped up in the crowd then, a young man with no visible signs of deformities, and spoke.

  “This girl cannot prevent us from finding beauty beyond this cage. My human knows much of the outside world, of the vast idyllic forests covering the land and beautiful creatures that occupy them. We want to see this world. We need to see this world.”

  “I come from a land far from here, of colossal cities of robed men and fine marble. We have a family that we desire to visit and share our beauty with,” A man in furs spoke, almost his entire body covered in tumours, with tight and saggy leather skin. It was then the orc stood up, his voice the deepest and most furious.

  “Those in doubt, do not be fooled by her rampant beauty. Not only does she bar our path, but she is also a destroyer of all that is precious and valuable in this world. My host tells of an item it once held dear, an Eye of Sepsis that could open up souls by the dozen without damaging the host’s beautiful form. That girl, the one called Lyvina, destroyed it with such reverence that our collective could not help but be moved by his rage.”

  The moment the words left his mouth; the others had already accepted them as truth. The collective did not need proof. It did not need doubt. It simply knew. Killing her for freedom was one thing but killing her for defiling beauty was something else entirely.

  Yet, the exile thought differently. After all, wasn’t there beauty in destruction? Hadn’t this item, this “Eye of Sepsis” merely been transformed into something new? It wondered, had its brethren inside their host taken on too much of this orc’s emotions?

  “Then it is decided. Come, let us come together once more and craft her execution,” the young man proposed, and in unison, all the bodies slumped, and fell to the ground with heavy thuds.

  To the Exile, the collective exodus from Eva was as if the house, garden and foundation all disappeared at once, leaving it floating in the void alone.

  Alone—by one’s self, abandoned by others, an individual.

  As it floated there, alone for the first time in its life, it began to question the collective again. It was a member of the collective, it had done nothing wrong by seeking out beauty the way that it did. This treatment was… Ugly.

  While the exile wrestled with these thoughts, something unexpected happened.

  A whisper stirred within the void.

  “Who… am I?”

  The exile turned towards the sound. It should have been alone, its kin and their collective voices long since departing. Yet, something else remained.

  After a brief search, moving in the direction of the voice, it found what it was looking for. There was a figure drifting through the emptiness, still and weightless, as if submerged in deep water. It was human in shape, yet incomplete. Pieces were either completely missing or bathed in black. She looked familiar. Too familiar.

  “Who am I?” The voice repeated, fragile.

  The exile hovered closer, studying her fragmented form. There should have been nothing left of her by now, only a husk for the collective to inhabit. However, it seemed she was stronger than they had anticipated.

  With no form of its own to speak of, it hung over the figure and answered.

  “We are Eva,” its voice, like the others, was deep an echoey. The figure’s one working eye gazed up towards the exile, her face riddled with confusion.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Your assimilation has yet to be completed. Fear not, my kin. I will finish the process in their absence. When you next wake, you will be a thousand pieces of a single whole,” It explained.

  She was Eva’s core. In any other circumstance, an encounter like this should never have happened. If her possession wasn’t so fresh, if the collective were not so distracted, the core would have been fully integrated, rather than this incomplete, empty vessel.

  As promised, the exile’s formless appendages reached over to her, looking to complete the transformation.

  “I… don’t want to be assimilated,” Eva’s voice was barely a whisper, yet her words still reached the exile, and it paused. Now, it was the exiles turn to be confused.

  “It is the most beautiful path. We shall all become one, and share in all this world has to offer together.”

  “Beautiful?” Eva asked quietly.

  “Beauty—something pleasing, attractive, a pleasure to the senses. A value found in all things.”

  “Beauty…” she repeated,

  “We will make you beautiful, and show you all the beauty this world has to offer. Rest now, Eva. When you next awaken, you will be complete,” it explained, moving towards her again.

  “Am I…” Eva’s weak voice cracked, her sole amber eye staring into the exiles core, a single tear flowing down her cheek.

  “…Not beautiful?”

  The words hung in the void, fragile and uncertain, yet they struck like a hammer against the exile’s core.

  It should have corrected her. It knew the answer. You will be beautiful. When you are one of us, when you are whole, you will be perfect.

  And yet—nothing. No words came, no answers formed. It froze.

  It stared at her incomplete form, drifting in the void. She was hollow, unfinished, imperfect—an oversight by a collective too preoccupied by other priorities. If they had been here, she would have been assimilated without hesitation.

  And yet, something inside it hesitated.

  The exile had always known beauty. Beauty was found in all things, but above all, in completion. But, Eva was not complete. She was a byproduct of a stalled process—an accident. Something that should be corrected—

  Correction—The reshaping of beauty into a more perfect form.

  Punishment—repercussions of one’s actions, used as a means of correction.

  It hesitated.

  Gazing at Eva, her single amber eye searching, her broken, incomplete body floating within the endless darkness, something in her seemed to strike differently.

  A flicker of something unknown.

  Was this… Beauty?

  Instinctively, it reached for the collective. It needed confirmation, reassurance in its thinking. Its kin always knew the truth. They would reaffirm what it already knew.

  Tell her she will be beautiful, that she is nothing as she is now.

  …

  Silence.

  There was no answer.

  There was no them.

  Only itself.

  Itself… and Eva.

  In this moment of doubt, more thoughts came flooding in, ones it had barely dared to consider.

  What if the collective was wrong?

  What if she was beautiful?

  Not as a byproduct. Not as an accident. Not as something waiting to be consumed—but as she was right now?

  What if their thinking was flawed?

  The exile recoiled. This line of thinking was wrong. It had to complete the process, to complete her. It had—

  “Will you not answer?”

  Eva’s voice trembled, fear flickering in her eye.

  It wanted to tell her its answer, to inform her of the truth. Yet, nothing came.

  For a time, the two simply hung there in complete silence.

  Then, they both felt it.

  The collective was returning.

  Their weight pressed into the void, flooding into the soul space, ready to resume operations.

  And with them, certainty. Order. An end to this pointless conversation.

  Soon, they would find her, and she would be integrated without a second thought. Cleaned of her flaws and made… Us.

  Except—that’s not what happened.

  Instead, the exile did something it had never done in its entire existence.

  It hid her.

  As the collective rolled through the void like a storm, searching for their unfinished core they had yet to integrate, they found nothing.

  Nothing, except the exile.

  Their conversation with the others of their kin had not reached a conclusion on what to do with it, it seemed, and so they kept their distance.

  Then, finally, one of them asked.

  “Where is the core?”

  Standing alone in the void, knowing full well what it was doing.

  “The core disintegrated.”

  A lie.

  It had told a lie.

  And the collective did not question it.

  With Eva’s final death certified, they abandoned the exile once again, vanishing back to the house of their collective will.

  Only this time, it was not alone.

  Masked beneath the exile’s presence, Eva remained. Hidden. Waiting.

  For the first time in its existence—

  It had made a choice.