S’Uba

by Jason

S’Uba watched The Fang trace slow circles around the perimeter of the chamber, starlight glinted off their glass-like scales as their large, sinuous bodies moved in the opposite direction to the shifting walls. The Herald glowed with his kind’s petty defiance and close to him the Collectoris looked as if they wanted to fly away. The Many disappearance was unfortunate, that would need to be dealt with, again. Their defiance had grown of late, but it had been knocked out of them before. And as for the human, it gazed in dumb wonder at the scene. It is a miracle that that thing is still conscious, thought S’Uba. Dumb little creature. The others seem to think it is somehow special! Another one of their saviours. Look at it, practically dribbling with ignorance. Barely conscious. Ridiculous to hold these specs of matter in any regard what so ever. Anyway, these are the performers at my disposal. Very well, let the concerto begin…

“I have a question for you. Where are they now?” S’Uba swept her gaze across the bewildered faces of the assembled Representatives, keeping her contempt clenched tightly in her fists and away from her voice. “The Mothers. The all mighty Bahamut. Where are they?

They sent five, out with the Emissary, five Bahamut – our Mothers.  Five only. No more. Those five gave themselves, merged with ancient songs that they called from the depths of the Celestial Ocean, they allowed those ancient tones and melodies to split them apart in order to create this,” S’Uba indicated the Circle and the Universe surrounding it. “The Harmonic Universe. This attempt to communicate with Gloam’s realm. This tiny prison. And all so that they may keep their Celestial Ocean free from contamination.

Yet, they sent no one else. We have been utterly alone. Isolated. In all this time, not a single member of the Pod has swum across the Ocean to see what is happening. To check on the Emissary. To see how this experiment is progressing, or to check on how we are doing.  Don’t you find that odd? I mean this was supposed to be important, no? Important enough to create us, to support the Emissary. Don’t any of you ever wonder why we, in all this time, have never seen a Bahamut? Or why we cannot leave this universe, cross the boundary between the Harmonic and the Celestial realms?”

“Your words are unsavoury,” the Sister bristled, jags of light glanced off her scales as she moved behind S’Uba.

“I am asking questions. It is what we in the Coruscation do.”

S’Uba looked around her, each of the remaining Family members was poised, waiting for a cue that may never come. The Fang continued circling, moving to some internal rhythm only their addled minds could conjure, but their eyes darted, moving from doorway to S’Uba and back to another doorway. The Collectoris had grown jittery, their kind could never conceal themselves, deceit was not in their nature, too much time searching for purity in the elements and yearning for ancient songs that did not exist anymore. S’Uba’s gaze finally rested on The Herald, she watched the edges of his body as they rippled and vibrated. That is not fear, S’Uba reasoned, That is rage. Excellent, lose yourself in that percussive state my young friend, let it drown out all of the other noise. Make it your own. S’Uba held her breath, she sensed that the moment, the one she had been composing for all these centuries, was tantalisingly close. She exhaled and nodded, enjoying the sight of The Herald trying to control his anger, amidst this weary little performance they had all put together. The fools would understand soon enough.

“Do you have any answers?” the Herald stared back at S’Uba.

S’Uba paused, as if in reflection, “No. I do not. I have possibilities, I have ideas, some theories but as I cannot communicate with the Bahamut, or leave this place, what else can I offer you? Over the centuries I have often approached this question, this puzzle that surrounds our absent Mothers. Many members of the Coruscation have devoted a great deal of time and thought to this conundrum.”

“At any point did you, or your kind, think to share your concerns,” Jynn walked across the Circle, closer to the human animal, the younger Collectoris followed a step behind, just so. “Share them with any of us? We may have been able to help.”

“Do you want to know my favourite theory?” S’Uba continued. Idiots, she thought. Look at them in their pathetic little dance. As if I have not seen this moment a thousand times before, as if I have not seen every possible move that they could make.

The walls of the Circle turned and beyond that the Universe. Comets travelled, stars blinked in and out of existence, on distant worlds beings at every stage of consciousness watched a sun rise and set. The spheres turned and turned and turned. Continuous harmony. Relentless motion. S’Uba felt herself in the centre of it, at the pivot point, unable to leave this desolate place, unable to change it to her ends. A member of the oldest of the five families, cursed to guard this ridiculous thing this experiment in sound and consciousness and futility.

S’Uba stepped toward the middle of the Circle, “I believe that they, the Bahamut, are all dead.”

“No!” blurted Jynn.

“You cannot know that,” retorted The Herald.

“Impossible,” rumbled the Brother. “We would have felt it.”

The Sister nodded.

“It is just a theory,” S’Uba held up her hands. “But I must admit, it is my favourite one. Think about it, at best they are dead. At worst they simply do not care about us. Maybe they lost interest or they decided that all this was a failed experiment.”

The Brother stopped moving.

S’Uba turned on the spot, in a slow deliberate circle, “There is one more question, one that keeps gnawing at the edges of all this conjecture. If the Mothers have abandoned us or are dead then why is any of this important anymore, what is this all for?”

“What do you mean?” the Sister regarded S’Uba.

“Why do we carry on?”

“There is life here. Consciousness.”

“Herald, you call these pathetic creatures,” S’Uba flicked her glance towards Emyr. “Conscious? Look at them, they’re barely alive. They cannot hear the symphony they were born into. They do not appreciate a single note of the majesty and the beauty that surrounds them.”

“Some of them can.”

“A handful, at most, and those that can ‘hear’ haven’t even scratched the surface, they are like insects skimming across the pond thinking they command a vast uncharted ocean.”

“They are learning,” the Herald was struggling to keep his rage under check, S’Uba was enjoying this now.

“They are pathetic,” she stood in front of the Herald and stared directly into his dark eyes. “How long has it taken them to get this far? Oh, yes a few are more advanced, they can play with the Musica Universalis, dabble in the shallows, but no more. Maybe in a few hundred centuries, assuming they don’t burn themselves out of existence, some of them may have a rudimentary understanding of what we have.

Maybe.

Let me cut to the end though, save you rambling on about evolution and choice and all that tedious stuff. It has taken them too long to get this far. Far too long. And if the Mothers are dead then it is time to stop all this nonsense. Maybe we start again. Or not…”

“You cannot make that decision alone,” the Sister uncoiled herself, moving closer to S’Uba. “We all have a say in this matter.”

“The Sister is right,” the Herald glowed a fiery orange and flashed his wings.

“Wrong,” S’Uba smiled, the players were performing exactly as she had predicted. “So, very wrong my young Herald. I do make these decisions. All the time. It is what the Coruscation have always done. We are the first of the families. We make decisions and you all enact them. It has been this way for millennia.”

“No, no, no,” Jynn’s wings flickered and she rose into air. “We have always worked together. Five Families in the Circle.”

“At first, yes Mistress Jynn,” S’Uba spoke with a measured calm, as she continued her voice grew stronger, filling the chamber with each precise word. “Yes, we did. We worked together. We were full of hope and purpose. A purpose bestowed on us by our Mothers. It was a gift, to be part of this great adventure. To reach out and touch the Atonal Realm. Across the ages of the Harmonic Universe, we toiled together to build the conduits between our realms, to assist the Emissary in her work. This gift was not what we first thought, it revealed itself to The Coruscation over time and we saw the truth. This is a laboratory. A prison cell. We are in shackles. We are all in servitude to beings that no longer care about us.”

“What of The Many?” asked Peck.

“They came to see our point of view.”

“You are the one who corrupted them.”

“The Coruscation helped to educate them.”

“Why them and not one of the other families?” Peck’s voice quivered.

“Their collective consciousness, their closeness of thought, their very nature…”

“Made them easy targets?” Peck found her resolve again.

“Mind your manners, Peck,” S’Uba towered over the young Collectoris. “I do not like your tone.”  

“She is right though. You manipulated them because they were easy targets,” Jynn’s voice echoed through the chamber. “You have manipulated us all. Corrupting The Many, setting the families against each other in the Hunt, who knows what else you have done?”

Peck edged her way toward Emyr.

‘So, you have abandoned the Mothers and abandoned reason,” tears welled in Jynn’s eyes, S’Uba suppressed an urge to laugh. “When did you give up?”

“Ah Mistress Jynn, I did not give up,” S’Uba’s voice was low, powerful. “I woke up and I made a decision. Action was needed.”

“And the rest of the Coruscation?” Jynn settled back on the floor.

“They agree with my analysis, for the most part. Whatever the cause, the Bahamut are lost to us. We are stuck here, on our own, isolated and alone. It is up to us now.”

“Up to the Coruscation and so the Coruscation has chosen for everyone?” The Herald’s voice was icily calm.

“Yes. We have chosen.”

“What have you chosen?”

“The end dear Herald, the end,” S’Uba stood in the centre of the Circle surveying the chamber. They were placed exactly as she had seen it, her composition come to life in front of her eyes. She smiled. “I notice that your champion has left. The portal to the Atonal Realm I take it? And young Peck too? Good. Let them go. They will not return. Oh, don’t act so surprised Herald, it is hard to not miss the absence of someone in so small a group. Apologies, dear Brother and Sister, but your spiralling distractions were for nought. Herald, Jynn your words were too dull to cover your true intent. Let that human animal go to Gloam, he’ll be consumed as readily as all the others. It won’t take long. Have you ever watched Gloam feast? It is quite disturbing, quite beautiful actually. My plan still stands. Gloam will soon grow tired of the meagre diet and consume the Harmonic Universe. He is a very hungry being.”

The Herald stepped toward the centre of the chamber, “We cannot let you do this.”

“We stand united,” Jynn flexed her finger spikes.

The Brother and The Sister rumbled like distant thunder.

“Very well, but you must understand,” S’Uba laughed. “I don’t care. You are standing in the Circle. My Circle. The Coruscation commands here, I command here, not you. My armies stand ready.”

The Herald walked toward S’Uba, unfurling his radiant wings. He stopped a swords length from S’Uba, “And so do ours.”

Questions:

1. Is this to exposition-y?

I am worried that there is too much of “the villain reveals all their plans in one go” about this scene?

• Is S’Uba’s character consistent with what you’ve seen before? Assuming you can remember back to the last time we saw S’Uba…
• Do the actions of the other family members feel authentic?
• Have I built tension in this scene?
• Any other thoughts?