Kigeist Act I: Kigeist, #1

By Dalin

Lux in tenebris; a 'light in the dark fantasy' conveying grandiose themes through the lens of intimate storytelling and characters. Emphasized is the profundity of the individual, through the weight that certain individuals might carry with regards to convoluted webs, or organizations seeing resolution through the acknowledgment of the individual. Narratives that weigh lives disparately, deified authors, and insignificant death taint the world of storytelling as egoistic in nature, and innately cold. It is foremost a demonstration of the world's navigation tool, the mind, as well as all the nuances that accompany the gift of observation. A narrative may be observed through human eyes, but Kigeist is spoken through the mind. All men are born equal…? The process of equating is itself a byproduct of the ego.

Length: apr. 45,000 words. Best experienced in white on black 'dark mode.'

Front illustration by Elena Krutenko.

 

Masckerdoom

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dalin
• Release date: Dec 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215970379

Book preview

Ortus.

The resplendence of the Basco, through the vast green richness of her canopy the will of anima are sown,

Nerus witnesses from her seedbed glories in heights of starswept rivers, founded in her fertile soil,

Moved by her glory is the resplendent light, the hand indomitus heeds the soul with goodness deemed true

By aura the cursed blood astravus for cursed blood atones

Integro.

Chapter 1. The City of Lights

Expanses of natural biomes, vast and wild landscapes, and fascinating unexplored territories of the world... Meeting the peaks of sharp, snow capped mountains, surfing across lakes of magma, aquatic vistas, and loping through unimaginable meadows caped in bright flowers, with something akin to love, or innocent desire; young Maku's eyes glean the pages of a book containing the spectacles of nature. Maku's sister, Sachiko, opens the door. Maku doesn't bat an eye, entranced by his book. Sachiko lovingly realizes Maku, sprawled out across his neatly made bed, feet mindlessly swaying about in distant lands. Sachiko and her laundry basket take a seat beside him.

Maku~ Wow... Those caves at night sparkle like the galaxy.

Sachiko gives an intrigued look to Maku's book.

It's really beautiful... Maku replies absentmindedly.

It's interesting, is it? What kind of book is that?

World places or something. I dunno. Maku continues to fixate on each page he turns.

Don't you love looking at the world, Maku? She graces a page with her pointer finger. With a distinct energy in his voice, Maku glances up and toward Sachiko.

This is a vast and luscious world. I want to see all of it, and walk all over it, with my own eyes and my own feet, that is. Not just the world. The skies, all the lights I see in the night, they're all worlds too. I wish I could make it all mine to explore. I can only go to those worlds while I sleep. But they're beautiful... Maku rambles on cheerily, staring, as if entranced by the ceiling. In the reflection of his chasmic, glimmering eyes, Sachiko too can picture the bright splendor in the colourful reaches of space that Maku describes romantically. She inches closer to Maku and places a hand on him, and another under his chin, embracing him slightly. He pauses and conforms to her grasp.

It's time for bed, Maku. Sachiko gently steals the book away, noting it to be Natural Geography Polymathìs: Vol. 2. Breezing by the shelf of slumped over additions to the scholarly text, she flicks off the light switch.

Goodnight, sissy.

Sleep tight, Maku. You're gonna go to school soon, Sachiko reminds Maku. The door shuts gently. The room grows completely dark. The sister stands in the doorway for a moment, exhaling heartily.

Okay Sachiko... Time to chip at those admission fees, she reaffirms herself. The brother listens intently for a few minutes and hears some nearly inaudible rustling. You can do this. Do it. The front door to the apartment gently closes. The darkness is pierced by the brilliant blue of Maku's eyes. He clutches something, slips out of his room, and turns on the light. He carries a spool wrapped in very thin wire, undetectable in the dark, unraveling rapidly. He holds the spool with two hands and follows the wire, dressed in his pajamas. He sets his wire down and changes into black clothes rather quickly. He equips himself with a hatchet of a peculiar, reflective, jet black metal, and bolts out of the front door, slamming it, before dashing up the stairs.

A dusty, dark corridor occupied by broken furniture and dimly lit by beams of moonlight stands in his way. Maku maneuvers up the stairs and busts open a trapdoor, letting starlight and cool night air waft through the brick lined staircase. Maku trudges up the remaining steps. He stands up straight, with his arms pointed slightly outward, assuming a pose that emanates confident uncertainty. He gazes out towards a vast city. Bright lights almost drown out the bustling sounds of vehicles, sirens, and enough presence of life to engulf the senses. Piercing black architecture stretches out as far as the eye can see. It seems endless, but no one building shares likeness with another. Vehicle horns and signals scrape the floors of the city. It's stunningly bright, and it appears that the surface is blanketed in more stars than the sky. The towers that stretch high above the rest are littered with flashing red lights, and a few helicopters and drones moving about the dusky sky. A cold breeze flushes through the heights of the buildings that touch the sparse clouds, flowing through Maku's collar length blonde hair. The thread continues down the side of the building.

Sachiko had been disappearing in the night time for as long as Maku could remember. Though there was a clear attempt at masking this fact, the younger brother's curious mind prevailed, and in keeping with his nature, rather than confronting his sister, he sought his own conclusion following a trek into the unknown. Maku decides to move out and make the daunting descent down the affixed metal stairs. The thread begins taking an artistic path. Maku, who can no longer keep up with its exact trajectory, wonders how Sachiko managed such maneuvers. He sets the spool down, and pulls out a flashlight, hanging its beam on the reflective wire. He pulls his hood over his head before rushing down the face of the building, tracing the wire with his light. He reaches a lower rooftop. Maku continues on and follows the thread for a few kilometers.

The thread looped over and under passageways, extended over tall walls, and signified movements that seemed impossible, even for a professional athlete. Maku knew Sachiko was gifted, extraordinarily so, but the path he was witnessing led him to believe there was some form of trickery at play. Maku finally closed in on the several shimmering needles leading to the end of the broken thread.

He didn't know where he was, and he hadn't kept track of his path. He found himself strolling a barren street illuminated by dim lamps within some sort of building complex. About a hundred feet away, a particularly large establishment caught Maku's eye, and he decided to head there to orient himself. As he turned the wall, he came to a full standoff with the otherworldly building, riddled with spotlights, and endlessly tall from a ground view. It clearly appeared far greater when standing before it. Brushchev Enterprises was plastered above the entrance in arrogant cursive. Maku felt a little nervous before curiously pushing forward.

The main lobby was large, but completely devoid of people. It looked typical, but was without life, a simple acoustic melody bouncing off the walls, and a tall waterfall engulfed with greenery. Maku felt eerie as he ran, turning through large corridor after corridor before he came upon splashes of blood, littered messily. Maku involuntarily reeled back and yelped. He backpedaled up against a glass wall, which outlooked an indoor garden, where just out of his sight, the unhindered gore escalated. Blood was smeared rhythmically throughout the halls, strewn about, almost as though by a mad artist's brush. The floors, mainly, but also the white walls, and even the tall ceilings carried blood that was recently dried. At just nine years old, Maku was overcome with fear and warning, but almost equally with intense anxiety for the state of his sister. Partly emotionally, and partly logically, he made the conclusion that Sachiko was in this very building. Maku decisively ran forward, taking care to avoid stepping on the clotting splotches of blood, and suppressing his sense of disgust. His body feeling lighter than foam, he made his way to an elevator hall. The place was meticulously decorated. Abundant with glass, foliage, and expensive furniture and decor littering its large rooms. There was a grandiose sense of class. Maku concluded it must be a business of some sort, but the blood littered throughout the halls and spilling from the leather furniture gave an aura of malfeasance and foul play. His left foot flew out from under him, plunging his cheek into a skidded puddle of blood.

Maku quietly rolled into the elevator, too shocked to emote any disgust or fear. He pressed the button for the highest floor. He wore a blank face, his eyes even wider than usual. The elevator ascended past a few floors, each visible as they flashed by the glass outlook. Maku remained still as the elevator smoothly glided by each. Every floor was painted in even more blood, broken antiques, and unrest than the last. The floors, as they passed by the glass display, alternated between neat, harmonious, and untouched, and a grisly chaos somewhat reminiscent of an animal rampage, yet lacking in any distinct signs of vital motive, or for that matter, malice; almost reflective of the aftermath of a natural disaster. The spots of blood among which were no footprints gradually became messier and greater in number, until eventually the higher floors displayed lifeless men in gruesome poses. Maku's eyes widened slightly.

His thumping heart almost came to a stop as the elevator halted abruptly at floor forty-five of fifty-eight, as the bubbly machine voice indicated. The doors opened to yet another blood soaked level. Maku couldn't manage to tremble as his legs guided him down the stained carpets and past a few eviscerated men, face down on the floor, resting on a couch, and pressed against the wall in numerous manners. He walked automatically, mostly occupied by the dozens of loud thoughts and hypotheses berating his head. Had he lacked the concern, and perhaps suspicion for his sister, his emotional response to the sights before him couldn't possibly be contained, and his instincts would drive him away from that place, far and fast. Maku's strong will drove him forward in spite of this. As he came by another elevator, he noticed a trail of blood that seemed small in comparison, leading up a staircase. Emotionlessly, his feet carried him up each smeared step and around each corner.

A loud impact reverberated throughout the building, shaking Maku from his trance. It seemed to have emanated from right above. He quickly made his way across the platform to a double door, beyond which were voices. Maku curled up against the door to get a better listen. It was rather simply a conversation between men, no distress in their voices was audible. Maku thought over the possibilities of the situation.

One being that Sachiko was behind that very door, and the other being that she wasn't. Given the latter, opening the door would prove fatal. He considered the loud boom earlier. The men certainly heard it, but given their unyielding voices, either had something to do with it, or have the situation in good command. Either way, behind the door is a perilous threat, making the choice to open the door unwise. But, the distinct possibility that Sachiko is behind the door presents a problem to Maku. Given that she is, she isn't speaking. Again, the calmness in the mens' voices presents the fact that she could be apprehended or dead, but certainly immobile. The thoughts running through Maku's head filled him with intense anxiety. Maku ultimately settled on the decision to open the door, but only after outlining an escape route that would allow him to bolt out of the building at any point he sensed danger. Maku paused as he reached for the door, considering the final possibility he'd neglected: that Sachiko was behind the door, gloating along with the men over the carnage that preceded them. This possibility resonated with the single fear with which Maku held the utmost dread: being alone.

He continued apprehensively. Maku, with the most precision he'd ever employed in his life, slowly turned the door handle, and caressed the door into opening slightly. His heart raced, but the voices proceeded again, and became clearer immediately.

NB's considering it...

...going to result in a huge deficit.

Well, it should suffice until the late Autumn, but after that, there's going to have to be a change in infrastructure if they want to keep this section alive through the next... Maku was completely lost in their conversation.

All because of this freaky little bitch, and her sullen teen outrage! A painful yelp follows the aggressive remark. Maku's heart nearly stops. He feels blood surging through his body.

Well even if she doesn't want to submit, the chefs can make something with spice. A pair of men cackle.

What do you say? Wanna play nice, or just let that anticoagulant run its course? Maku creaks the door open just enough to see two tall men. They dress in black suits, and appear calm, and not particularly fixated on anything. The most peculiar detail is the smoking crater in the wall at the back of the room. Maku pushes the door just a few inches more, and sees his sister on her knees, looking to the floor, bloodied and exhausted.

Maku did everything in his power to keep his composure, and adversely became null in cognition and feeling. He looked his sister up and down, and noticed a few details. She was wearing a dress he'd never seen. It was completely soaked in blood, so much that it was definitely not just her own, in tandem with the two katana blades laying at the men's feet, which he'd also never seen. Upon closer inspection, she appeared to be crying, clutching a wound on her shoulder. The scene was reminiscent of a wildlife scenario, that of an injured fawn, surrounded by utterly merciless predators. Maku took care to look closer as the image in his head ebbed and morphed. Sachiko was a hungry fox, teeth bloodied, outdone and circled by roosters.

Something poked Maku