Detritus can reduce things to rubble. It is taxing for her to hold a large thing in her mind and focus her powers on it, then to activate the very molecules of the thing’s composition to cause the rapid aging of the thing to wear it down to dust. But if she can hold something in her hand, she can turn it to ash or dust or sand, the by-products of time and physical forces, in little time and with little effort. Detritus is a very powerful member of the Death Witch Coven, many revere her as senior among them because she concocted many of the spells that the original Tinyalari enacted around Moon Daisy to bring about the Coven.
But even Detritus bows to Quietus. Detritus wielded great deterioration powers, but Quietus could make any physical process stop. She could stop a Third Heart from producing Divine Essence, an ecstatic gland from processing it. She could render an eye blind, a river dry, and Detritus realized that Quietus wasn’t bound by physical processes. Quietus could halt arcane spells, she could make spirit energies cease to be. Of course, such powerful magic requires a great amount of energy, and it takes time for Quietus to collect the arcana needed, but she does store immense power inside of her and her violet magic is tinted grey.
The greatest day in the long life of the Detritus Witch was the day that she delivered the news to Quietus that she had brought their sisters back from Kútmómɛ. They had both been working independently to free the Coven and though there was never a formal challenge, the two competed to be the one to free them. Quietus has been reclusive since hearing the news, partly believing that Detritus had proven her superiority and leadership of the Death Witch Coven by enacting and executing such an intricate plan. Detritus was gracious in her victory, and she allowed Quietus her space, until it was time to face the threat to all existence.
“I have to admit that I find this place very pleasant,” Quietus says through her mental link with Detritus. “The music is intoxicating.”
“This is not a time for entertainment,” Detritus says in her hard voice. Since arriving to the Une-vese, she has been on edge, and since the explosion of Xêvioso’s cube, she’s been just short of frantic. She established the psychic link with Quietus shortly after the commotion had settled, and though they were separated by immense distance, they maintained contact as they decided on a plan of action. Detritus was flying through space to arrive at Quietus’s location.
“You have to come here to hear it,” Quietus says, ignoring Detritus’s apprehension. “It is as though the Griots fill space with the harmonies of the balafon, but it is somehow better.”
“The way you speak of it, I worry about being lured to my death with pleasant music,” Detritus says.
“That is not the purpose of it,” Quietus says. “Besides, Une sleeps, and this music seems to keep her that way while it apparently helps in the creation of those impossibly large tendrils.”
“Wait, what are you saying?” Detritus asks with confusion. “Are you at Une’s location now?”
“I didn’t realize it at first,” Quietus admits. She takes time to stand from her position on the large space rock that isn’t covered in tendrils, but they crowd the scene all around the view from the surface, letting in rays of the sun that are intense to stand in, but Quietus has been alternating between the shade and the sunlight because there is vegetation on the rocks exposed to sunlight and it is nice to lie on it until the sunlight becomes too intense. Though the view of the cosmos is crowded with tendrils, she has managed to trace some of them back to what appears to be their origin, a ball of what appears to be yarn the size of a planet that she could feel coursing with death, life, and the pattern. And all around it was the delightful sound of the balafon, though she could not determine where it originated from. It should have been impossible to hear anything in the void of space, but over the time that Une has conquered this existence, she has encouraged the growth of vegetation near stars to turn the entirety of the cosmos into a breathable atmosphere.
“So you are there?” Detritus asks with annoyance now.
“I guess,” Quietus says as she situates herself in the light on her back. She only wears her undergarments after disengaging the armor of Fâ, and her dark skin glistens. She admires herself in this light.
“Well, what should we do?” Detritus asks in a sudden panic. “I am coming to you now.”
“I thought you were approaching this whole time, that’s why I’ve stayed put.” Quietus has been waiting for Detritus, though even if she hadn’t agreed to seek Quietus out in this new realm, Quietus would still be lounging in it and taking in the sites. She had noticed the variation in the colors of the tendrils, almost the way rocks exhibit color variations, sometimes in striations that are jagged, other times splotches like a bleeding infection.
“Have you made contact with Fâ?” Detritus asks.
“I haven’t tried, I am waiting to complete my picture here. It is glorious, Detritus, I am eager for you to see and hear it. And there are smells but many of them are too sweet for my tastes.”
“Are you getting too comfortable, Quietus?” Detritus asks, letting her judgement and anger be apparent without inciting hostility between them. “Remember how dangerous this enemy is. She will creep into your mind and turn you against us, and I would rather not have to kill you in a foreign realm.”
This makes Quietus laugh out loud to herself. “I’m sure you are eager for the excuse. But that’s not what this is. I am intrigued by this formation of the magics, I would not have expected something so beautiful for one as hellbent on destruction as Une. I think the music encourages the growth of the tendrils, even the scent I think is like a pheromone that encourages growth. I am almost certain that the best thing we can do is find the source of those things and turn them off, but I have been here for a long time and can only enjoy it, I can’t trace anything. I don’t feel any mind but Une’s that buzzes through the tendrils. Maybe she is doing this all on her own?”
“She has amassed amazing power,” Detritus says as she grunts and groans, displaying the effort it takes to wield her magic in such a way as to propel her in space toward the mental signature of Quietus. Detritus uses Death Magic, not the natural abilities that manifest from her use of Divine Essence, to propel herself through space and it requires gathering the latent magic that exists in abundance in this realm of decay and death, and also dispelling them, which is alternating hand constructions that tax the muscles in her arms.
“Hurry, Coven sister, we have much to learn so that when we happen upon Fâ and the others, we can put them to useful work. Une is no match for the Death Witch Coven.”
Detritus rolls her eyes as she continues her arduous journey, even though she agrees with Quietus.
After some time, Detritus begins to smell flowers that remind her of the forests of the Disc of Agê and it soothes her aching muscles. She stops her flight through the cosmos and smiles to herself as the scent of flowers grows stronger. Detritus likes the smell of flowers because it can’t exist without dirt and the breakdown of living things, without the detritus of nature, and this has always strengthened her. She is drifting casually when she begins to hear the bouncing notes of the balafon, but the tangle of tendrils in the cosmos makes it difficult to survey the distance to confirm if she had made it to the location Quietus described.
Detritus looks around herself hoping to see anything that Quietus had described, but there is only the vision of tendrils, the smell of flowers and the the sound of a balafon.
“Do you really not see me?” Detritus hears the mental voice of Quietus after some time.
“No,” Detritus chuckles, “but I haven’t been looking very hard. I see why you like it here.”
“Come to me now, I have discovered something most interesting,” Quietus says and she continues to talk while Detritus navigates to her.
“What is it?” Detritus asks. “Did you wake the enemy?”
“I doubt that’s even possible, she is a very heavy sleeper. I didn’t wake anyone, though I did receive a communique from Ruin.”
“Is she headed this way too?”
“She is.” Quietus says. “You both will be very shocked by my news.”
“If I ever find you…”
“Turn,” Quietus interrupts and they see one another, then fly to hold hands before Quietus leads Detritus though the crowded cosmos. Eventually, they land on the space rock where Quietus had been lounging and she shows Detritus the sleeping enemy.
“Une is a mushroom.” Quietus says.
“Right,” Detritus says with a hint of impatience. “Say other things that we both already know.”
“Une is a mushroom according to Pultine and the Hyperion, Agê has never encountered Une as she does here, the Hyperion only facilitated mental connection between them. I believe that even Agê has probably noticed this by now, wherever she is, but the biggest clue is the breathable atmosphere of this place. Une is a mushroom, but there is an algae as well. The Une-verse is probably the largest lichen in all of the multiversal structure. The music, you hear it?”
Detritus does and it is as impressive as Quietus had described, pinking deliberately and steadily in clear tones that cut through the crowded cosmos.
“The algae boosts the growth of the tendrils, they are symbiotic. Their union is surprisingly beautiful, Une brings death to the multiversal structure while being pampered with music and aromatherapy. If we can kill the algae, it will be a shock to Une’s system.”
“It will make her vulnerable to the Vodun’s attack,” Detritus says, now impressed at the intel Quietus had gathered.
“What did I miss?” both of the witches hear as the Ruin Witch lands on the large space rock. “I sense the death of something very imminent. Its death will send wails of anguish across the cosmos and what was strong, will wither.”
“So are the words of Ruin,” Quietus says with a smile.
PRL Serials 