Grandmother
Rachel and Rebecca appeared side by side five floors down from their previous position.
Rachel's eyes glowed in alternating shades and patterns of color as she moved forward. The purple spirit form of Marce materialized beside her, forming as though someone were sketching him into existence in real time. No sooner had he taken shape than the pink blob appeared next to him.
"Stay here. Observe and protect." Rachel's voice was ethereal, spoken in the language of the dead—an ancient tongue that had splintered into millions of dialects across the universe eons ago.
Rebecca knew Rachel was speaking to Marce, but she kept her own silence. Her eyes lingered instead on the pink blob. Something about it set her teeth on edge. It radiated the presence of a maniacal entity, something far too powerful to be understood.
Rachel moved forward at a steady pace, Rebecca's slowed but her red spirit kept pace with Rachel. The spirit stood in line to protect Rachel's rear and side flanks.
"You know," Rachel said softly, "when she was sane, she told me I would be the one to kill her. She made me promise to use her seer and traveler abilities. She said the rest would be up to me."
Rebecca contemplated that, her smile curling with an edge of greed and reluctance. She hated being greedy—and yet she embraced it all the same.
The abomination had stopped on this floor, held in place by Rachel's will. As Rachel advanced, her mind slipped backward, remembering. Her grandmother had once been a force of legend, with mastery of over more than half of the rainbow—a feat unmatched until Rachel herself appeared. Yet, she fell. Corruption from an uncharted realm invaded two-thirds of her soul being, leaving her beyond salvation.
Rachel had only been twelve then—too young to save her. Instead, she had been forced to seal her grandmother away, tortured by the knowledge that if she had been older, stronger, wiser, she could have done more.
Maybe.
The corruption had been insidious. It ignored the soul well until it was too late, spreading first through her soul being, then infecting every spirit within her. Those spirits remained loyal, but their loyalty twisted them into grotesque protrusions—heads sprouting across her growing body until she was larger than a house, her form studded with over a hundred full grown heads of of different types of entities.
All the spirits Lanncey had control over in life.
Now, that abomination quivered before them. It wanted to strike, but Rachel's will shackled it in place.
Rebecca's eyes widened at the sight. Among the swarm of monstrous heads, one face still shone through—Lancey of Trannisa, Rachel's grandmother. Her eyes carried smug contempt and quiet curiosity.
The creature was colossal, impossibly vast for the confines of the building. Multicolored mounds swelled across its body, each crowned with heads. In the uppermost region, a depression held nine dominant faces, all different species. Lancey's human face occupied the center. Its two massive arms jutted from its chest, its skin alive, seemingly, with writhing worms beneath the surface. From its oozing mounds sprouted dozens of appendages—spikes, lances, scythes. And every eye blazed with unfathomable hatred. All except Lancey's dulled rainbow gaze, which fixed on Rachel as if straining to remember.
Rachel sighed, eyes closing for a heartbeat before opening again, shimmering with rainbow light. She stepped forward, her arm slashing down in countless quick, precise strokes. She cut through the air but avoided striking any heads—she dared not risk damaging the spirits within.
The abomination's many heads roared in unison. The building shook. Windows shattered. Its hatred swelled, and Rachel's eyes went wide—it was straining against her bonds.
She swept her arm in a tight circle, weaving an angled arc of colors that strengthened with each rotation. Magic saturated the room until Rebecca had to retreat a few steps, torn between awe and unease.
One head near Lancey's opened its maw, preparing a counter, Rebecca's red spirit being rose into the air, like a puppet on strings, it dashed forth, its red skin coming alive as red tendrils shot forth from him and lashed out at the offending appendage.
Rachel recited a sharp incantation. Her spell shot forward, a rush of light and intent, lodging itself deep in the creature's throat. The spirit gagged, choked, and coughed out a puff of dark smoke.
Rachel pressed the advantage. She released the circle's energy, engulfing the abomination in a storm of radiant magic. The room fell eerily still.
Then, a piercing wail split the silence, followed by a single pop.
Rachel swiftly raised a barrier. Smoke filled the corridor. Something rolled free, bouncing toward them. A head. They knew it before it stopped at their feet.
As the haze cleared, a mountain of severed heads loomed. Most stared blankly. But Lancey's smiled, her rainbow eyes shining brightly now.
"You really did purify my soul, little rosebud," she said, her voice soft, proud. "That means you can't use me. But I will rejoin the Milana soul. Use my denizens well. I love you."
Her face dissolved into rainbow sparks that drifted into Rachel's core. Rachel's expression remained composed, but relief lingered in her eyes. She hadn't wanted her grandmother as an underling.
Rebecca's red servant floated gently to the ground, its skin once again wet and oozing, it quietly moved to Rebecca's side as of nothing had happened.
Rachel turned to the pile of heads, extending her palm. Knowledge magic rippled outward, examining each one. The shades of pink swam over the heads identifying and categorizing before returning information back to her. She paused, then glanced at Rebecca.
"You still don't have any comrades with spirit abilities, right?"
Rebecca blinked, half-dazed by the spectacle. "Umm… no. No, I don't."
Rachel turned back without another word. She lowered two fingers. Three heads separated from the mass—a black serpent, a purple-and-yellow beetle, and a strange half-feline, half-canine face split between jet black and calico.
The trio floated toward Rebecca. Her eyes lit up instantly, but her throat was sealed.
What could she say. She sensed the beings approaching her with both anticipation and delight, her guards stood beside her unperturbed, awaiting new orders.
And Rachel turned to her spoils, spoils from a long paused war.
The waged for the salvation of her grandmother's soul.