(Gardenia Scarlet)
Three Divine Corpses Attend a Party
A Flower, a Whisper, a Spider
She spoke to the sprouting flowers in a soft yet uplifting voice. As her voice fell, the flowers blossomed into a field of blue and gold. She watched as the waves of flowers grew–carried by her voice. Such a marvelous sight was not new for Gardenia as she had long been attuned to the threads of nature. She had many names and titles throughout her life, such as the Grovetender, the Scarlet Sylph, and the Fervent Flower. Of her titles, the latter hooked into the consciousness of the people of Wroughtsol. This place was unlike any of the many she had traveled. Deep in a mountain on the edge of a sea of white, she found the entrance into the Memory-Eating Dungeon.
When she first arrived, she was the only bit of color in the drabby cavern network. She was used to being seen as a hero or even a goddess, but the people of Wroughtsol were different. There were weak people coughing while clinging to death and those who believed they were unkillable deities brimming with energy and power. Gardenia quickly learned the finality of her choice to enter this dungeon. For no one can leave until someone finally completes Wrikter’s Wager. The people who entered from the outside would give up their rights to death and would be labeled as Contenders—players in Wrikter’s game. Gardenia saw the world full of stagnant life and decided that she was called to this place to bring true life to it.
Now, hundreds of years later, Gardenia has been deemed one of the Ten Champions—the most likely to save the eternally bound people by beating the game. She doesn’t know how she came to be known as the Fervent Flower, but she does appreciate the intimidation in her title that wards off pestering pretender heroes and villains. This fear and admiration gives Gardenia enough space to grow her gardens and groves as vast as she would like. While the sky is made of stone and falsehoods, Gardenia strives to bring abounding life to this dungeon of death using her dominion over nature.
She strode softly through her freshly grown sea of flowers while singing a song of good fortune. She felt the cool dirt steadily warm beneath her steps. The cavern walls past the horizon breathed wind into her garden—lifting the powder and silk scents of the flowers. Gardenia brushed her hands across the flowers and felt their fresh petals slip across her fingertips like rain. She loved the coolness of fresh plants ready to live their lives as part of a greater web. She dropped to the dirt and looked through the undergrove of flower stems. She watched the bugs living and dying in the dark beneath the flowers. There were beetles, flies, worms, and even moths, all decorated with beautiful muted reds and browns. She rose and towered over the field like a bleached scarecrow. In this fresh meadow of life, Gardenia stood as a corpse who never lived.
She traced her hands up her arms—feeling her impossibly smooth and lifeless skin. Red markings like stained glass hummed and faded under her flesh. Centuries ago, she would have scorned these runes for the curse they bring to those who see them. The anguish of her curse could never be put into words. However, after so long of hiding away like a mole for something she couldn’t control, she decided that she would finally live how she wanted. This was her garden, and she could have her skin show as much as she wanted. If any outsiders came, then it would be their fault for what happened next. However, it doesn’t matter if a Contender sees her like this because they will just be reanimated by the dungeon later. The curse of eternal life in Wroughtsol gave Gardenia more peace of mind for her afflictions.
Her vision suddenly dulled to greys, and the sounds of nature stilled. She palmed her chest to find her heart, but it did not beat. She desperately clawed at her flesh to dig out her heart. She breached through her skin and pulled out it out—holding it into the grey sky. It stood brilliant red like an apple across the grey backdrop. But it did not beat or bleed. It looked beautiful, but that was all it could do. She stared at this demonstration of her purpose and design with a long-stilled sorrow. She was designed by her mother tree to be a figurehead of beauty and power—perfect to demonstrate the tree’s will. She was as alive as a doll but breathed the life of dreamers. This was her miserable existence. Gardenia breathed deeply and shut her eyes. For a moment, she was without form and all was still.
The wind enveloped her in a faint cloak—breaking her free of her sensory moment. She opened her eyes to see the color of the world returned with the song of nature. She stared at her heart and slammed it into the gaping hole in her chest like it was just a stone. She chuckled and pulled an azure flower from the ground. It was fresh like the others, but it already had a story to tell, and a life lived. Gardenia cradled the flower like it was the child she longed to have for millenniums. She faintly whispered a poem of love and thankfulness for the flower alone to hear. Upon concluding her poem, she dropped the flower into her mouth. It melted like chocolate and tasted like how a rainbow looks. The flower thanked Gardenia and offered its energy to her in its final moments. Gardenia’s body mended itself as it always did like a savant seamstress weaving a dress. This was yet another reminder of her false living and maintained illusions. She desperately wished for her heart to beat and tell her she was alive just like the flowers around her. But the call of life never rang.
As Gardenia moseyed back to her home, she noticed something red fluttering like a kite. It danced without rhythm for a moment but suddenly shot down at breakneck speeds toward Gardenia. She barely caught it with its sharp edge, daring to find residence in her face. She held the attacker away and noticed it was merely an origami bird made with tough red paper. It unfolded with several snappy movements into an envelope with a white wax seal branded with a spider. Gardenia carefully cracked the seal and opened the envelope. Inside was a small card with instructions written so neatly it seemed printed. She knew from the moment she saw the spider seal that this was an invitation to meet one of her fellow Champions. The person behind this invitation was none other than the most devilish, cunning, and brilliant man in the dungeon—the Alabaster Demon, the Machine Emperor, the Synthetic Spider.
She read the instructions carefully again inside her home. The spider was asking her to join him at a party on one of the lower dungeon floors. Namely, she was invited to a treaty-signing party between Contenders and the natives of the dark city Cyberlethe. The entire letter discomforted Gardenia. For starters, the location provided was a dead drop where she would be provided clothes and further instructions. The spider clearly had something weaved that he wasn’t telling her. She did not want to go to Cyberlethe with its oppressive constructions and its cruel perspective on nature. Yet, Gardenia knew that she had to. The spider surely had something planned and even had plans for if she didn’t show. He could ruin her way of life effortlessly.
Thus, Gardenia set off to the city of Cyberlethe. She passed through her fields of marvelous flowers and trees—knowing that she would return to them no matter what.
As the colorful flora faded to stone and rough, she threw on her delving equipment. She bolstered herself with her beyond-weathered armor, threw on her bold red mantle, and donned her newest carved mask. With this outfit, she was equipped not only for the treacherous descent further into the dungeon but also for any adversaries seeking a quick bite or buck. Like many of the plants and critters she met during her travels, she decorated herself brightly to warn predators of her dangerous nature. However, in Wroughtsol, this tactic doesn’t work as effectively. There are too many lunatics prancing the halls within this underground world. Gardenia knows this well, as she was considered crazy long before diving into Wroughtsol.
The trek to Cyberlethe from Gardenia’s Grand Grove would take months of constant struggle for all but the most experienced Contenders. It was a voyage across eight different sub-worlds, from extensive caverns to sunken oceans of murk and monsters. Each layer echoes humanity’s nature, dreams, and fears. For many, even making it past one layer is an incredible feat worthy of being remembered forever. The allure of beating Wrikter, gaining fame and wealth, and simply bettering oneself is a siren’s call that has pulled on the minds of all Contenders. Even Gardenia must admit she feels the rushing excitement of reaching a new deepest point in the dungeon. However, she doesn’t have the time to relish passing through these layers right now.
She slipped through each layer via hidden tunnels and roads, only one as experienced as she could navigate and know. These were tunnels provided by the restless march of human determination to reach the bottom. Eons of Contenders chipped away at the stones, dammed violent rivers, and constructed cities in the harshest places. If there were ever a place to show the willpower of humanity, it would be here in Wroughtsol, where humanity is the most precious resource. Despite humanity’s efforts, Wroughtsol is always ahead of them—ready with some new tragedy or component to throw at them like a curveball.
Gardenia dropped through an ancient mineshaft into the layer just above Cyberlethe. Immediately upon landing, she felt the pungent air of refuse and salt. She pushed through the mineshaft to its egress and was greeted with the familiar sight of Desperation Sea. Despite how adamant humanity is about survival and accomplishment, they cannot take a firm hold of this sea of waste and spires. Gardenia carefully bounded across the larger junk amidst the rotting water as if the ground were lava. The only redeeming aspect of this layer was its mostly quiet essence. The only noise Gardenia heard as she skipped across the garbage islands was the buzzing wings of massive dragonflies high above her.
A ship barely held together by screws and scrap rode slowly by Gardenia like a dog waiting for a treat. Gardenia saw the people inside trying to wave her onboard. But she continued to jump across the bulkier pieces in the sea. She pretended not to notice the ship—hoping the occupants would leave her alone. Yet the ship persisted in following her. With each passing moment, the boat got more aggressive to the point it actively tried impeding Gardenia’s jumping.
The crackle of a gun broke the silence like glass. Gardenia felt the bullet strike her in the leg, but it did not pierce. However, she still lost her footing and frantically threw her arms around to keep her balance on a floating board. She saw one of the ship passengers holding his gun with a frigid expression. He was not a Contender but rather one of the mortals born within Wroughtsol. His actions and guise told Gardenia his intention, motivation, and backstory. She had met many like him. He despised Contenders for what they do and represent. His aiming at Gardenia’s leg was enough proof of his desire to capture her alive. But Gardenia wouldn’t allow that.
She leaped aboard the ship and threw the man overboard into the waste in two motions. She beckoned the other passengers to face her. She saw their thoughts painted vividly across their wrathful faces. To them, she was just another beast to fell or exploit. To her, they were deadmen with icy grips on their triggers. If they shot at her, she would swiftly throw them away with the rest of the trash. Gardenia recognized their fear and lumbered to the wheel. Without speaking, she took control of the ship and set it off to the entrance of Cyberlethe. All the while, the crew remained still and on edge.
Upon arriving at the threshold between the layers, she fluttered a goodbye to the crew before bursting into a sprint. She didn’t know how much time she lost during that but she was confident she could make it up.
When she arrived at Cyberlethe she followed the clicking of mechanical legs against the stone to the dead drop. She soon found the dead drop was actually one of the spider’s mechanical servants—-one normally outfitted for battle. The machine guided Gardenia along a road carved by the spider to the place of the party. It did not speak, and its servos did not scream as it moved. It was a brutal weapon of war, given the menial task of being her guide. The spider was showing his power once again. The machine led her to her room and left instantly. Gardenia navigated around the provided room. It was artificial and human in every way. She hated it, but she knew she would hate whatever lay in the case on her bed even more. Another set of instructions lay on the case neatly like a nest.
She cracked open the case with a sigh and complied with the instructions. This was going to be a terrible night.
In all her years hunting kingdom-erasing monsters, trekking across unfathomable worlds, and surviving hundreds of near-death experiences, walking in high heels down a simple hallway was by far the hardest thing she had ever done. She put the cardinal red shoes on easily but found it tremendously difficult to stand, let alone walk. She preferred walking barefoot across the soft ground of nature. The soil and grass welcomed and revered her. She was born from death in a forest of life and was raised as an heir of all nature. The cold and unwavering manmade concrete beneath her offered no praises for Gardenia, the Fervent Flower.
She planted herself firmly and looked through the glass to view the prismatic sea of lights in the dark city. For most, this would be a comforting and even exciting sight. However, to Gardenia, this was less enjoyable than being eaten alive. She laughed to herself behind her mask about the idea of escaping the meeting by jumping into the mouth of one of the beasts in the city below. Her reflection caught her eye with a sudden glimmer. She stared at her pale corpse body dressed in a flowing scarlet dress like a flower. The only thing she enjoyed about the outfit was the red flower motifs that matched her flaming mess of vermillion hair.
She lifted her mask slightly and spat out a bleached seed to the unnatural ground. With a wave of her hand and a single quiet request, she called upon the seed to grow. The seed, as subject to Gardenia, had no choice but to comply. Like a geyser, the seed burst and snapped into a staff of rough white wood. Gardenia loved the natural look of this pale wood sprout but knew she couldn’t bring it into the party as is. She could picture it vividly—the trigger-happy few would be angry that she was allowed to bring a weapon. Worse than that, the hosts might sever their connection with Gardenia for ruining the supposed amazement of this forgotten age of man with such a brutal weapon. As much as it pained her to do so, Gardenia swiftly carved the staff down with her nature-bending voice—which is a much more deadly weapon than her simple staff. But the hosts would never remove her voice even if they could. Even in this concrete and steel hellscape, she was still the Fervent Flower—the heir of nature and wielder of the most potent voice.
Gardenia propped herself with her freshly carved cane. It was still considerably dangerous looking as it had to be large enough for Gardenia’s strong stature. Like a tree, she crept across the hall to the door, which howled with string instruments and chatter. Right as she pulled the handles, the dual doors exploded violently like the wings of a bird shooting into the sky. A man was thrown through the doors and now lay against the now-cracked wall behind Gardenia. Even when slumped, he still was on eye level with Gardenia despite her great height. The man was a hulking mass of meat, more akin to a monster than a man. He was Solus, the Whispering Warden.
Even behind his mountain of scars, Gardenia recognized what had happened just by his subtle smirk.
“Solus, uvo dos su vellas a nos?” Gardenia inquired in her native tongue.
“You know I’m not fluent in every dead language.” Solus droned.
“My apologies! I am just happy to not be the only Contender asked to be here.”
“The Spider isn’t at the party. He is on the roof. I believe the party is a distraction for some of the guests and a way to invite us to a meeting without raising suspicions.”
“I did find it peculiar he would invite me to a party despite knowing my nature.”
Gardenia wrapped herself around Solus’s arm—barely able to reach around his freakish muscles. Solus trudged through the hall in his usual titanic gait. Like Gardenia, he was completely out of his element in this tower, especially in his suit, already torn by his prodigious burliness. Without words, he scooped Gardenia into his arms and climbed the stairs to the roof. Gardenia clutched her cane with a snow-pale grip. She would rather be seen tripping in heels than being carried like a damsel. However, part of her was thankful for not having to climb the stairs in her dreaded heels.
The two had known each other for centuries, yet they only spoke a couple dozen words in all that time. The lumbering man was one of the few immune to Gardenia’s cursed body. He never once fell into a trance staring at the brilliant red runes beneath her marble skin. Likewise, Gardenia never found it difficult to talk to the horrifically monstrous man of Solus because she had seen much worse. The two were as opposite as can be—black and white like ink splatter on a canvas, yet this allowed them to form a unique friendship.
Solus ascended the stairs and arrived at the glimmering roof. The sky of shimmering crystals illuminated the roof in a different light than the rest of the city. A man dressed neatly in a blood-red suit sat perfectly upright like a spire at a table placed in the center of the roof. He wore an oddly angular helmet much like that of a spider—complete with eight gleaming crystal eyes. Two vacant chairs opposed him across the table with their intentions clear. Solus placed Gardenia in her spot while he kept standing.
“You doubt me?” The man’s synthetic voice chirped.
Solus carefully sat in his chair and braced for the chair splintering. However, the seconds passed, and his chair stood as strong as ever. He relaxed his back against its frame and shook his head silently.
“I see we failed to procure a suit capable of containing your grand frame.” The man said as he propped his sharp elbows on the table and interlocked his hands in a swift motion.
“You wouldn’t have if you let me go in my armor,” Solus growled.
The man cocked his head with three mechanical clicks. His eyes seemingly watched both Solus and Gardenia at the same time while also stalking unknown targets all around. You could never surprise him as to him, life was but a stage that he was the sole conductor for. Gardenia knew there was something more about this meeting and at least one important reason why she had to wear heels. She was in his web but didn’t know what for. She listened to the subtle hum of his engine beneath his suit and metal skin. He was Desolo, the Synthetic Spider.
“Soso, couldn’t we have met at one of your labs? Or maybe deeper into the dungeon?”
“We could have,” Desolo responded automatically.
“Why did you bring us out here? And why must I wear these horrible shoes?”
“Appearances.”
Gardenia glared from behind her mask at Desolo behind his. Solus chuckled with weathered lungs—slamming his hands into his knees. Desolo remained rigid and upright.
“I’m testing a theory on the non-Contenders and their influence on the Wrikter Noosphere. As we are among the most known Contenders, our appearances have influence in the greater dungeon weaving. By presenting yourself in an atypical form, you throw the system into disarray.” Said Desolo.
“Then I could have just dyed my hair, and your test would remain unaltered.” Snapped Gardenia.
“Astute as always, Gardenia. I intentionally restrained both of you in a way that wouldn’t cause chaos at the party. Heels that act as chains… a suit more akin to a straightjacket. You stand out due to your foreign methods of living to these city livers of the forgotten age of man. Yet, you remain ever so intimidating to would-be assailants. Notice I only restrained your movement and not your capacity to kill.”
“Spider, tell me why. If you have betrayed our pact, then I will no longer uphold my end. I will lock you in the deepest cell for eternity. Do not test me.” Solus yelled.
Gardenia gripped her cane and readied herself for a fight. But she noticed Desolo remained sitting as if this was still part of his plan. She couldn’t move without thinking five steps ahead just to catch up to his schemes.
“Before you strike me down, I must inform you of the situation and the story we shall play. We three representatives of the Contenders came to this party to negotiate a peace deal between delving Contenders and the natives of this city that have so frequently antagonized and kidnapped our kind. We came unarmed and even dressed as the people do as a sign of our good intentions. However, we were ambushed by the residents and forced to fight our way through the city.”
Gardenia felt the approaching tide of footsteps echo across the stairs and throughout the city. Desolo knew this was an ambush, or possibly he was the one to set it up. She stood suddenly and wrapped her cane around Desolo’s neck—pulling him closer.
“Why did you do this, Soso? We could have found a way around the city. Why did you instigate this violence? Was Solus being thrown out part of your plan?” Gardenia bombarded.
“Does it matter how my hand played in this game? We are Champions of Wroughtsol, and these people will not stop until they have us bound and made into immortal slaves and engines. If you think you and Solus can win against an entire nation without me, then kill me here and now. I shall send for your battered bodies later.”
Solus leaped up and peeled his suit from his body like it was paper. He grabbed the table and threw it off the roof with one toss. His breathing was barely visible under his monstrously muscular body riddled with cybernetics. He was more monster than man and more machine than monster.
“You owe us an explanation of your greater plan after we make it out. I was fine with your methods before, but creating a just cause for war over a single city is too much.”
“When we win, we will turn this mockery of true humanity into a sanctuary for the weak among us. Would you rather the eternal be eternally safe, or the temporary be temporarily safe?” Desolo responded as a wave of false humans flooded the roof.
"Soso… I hate you." Gardenia said as she sharpened her staff into a scythe.