Abyssalis

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say.

The solipsistic nature of humanoids often resulted in universally untrue, narrow-minded notions. It was undoubtedly inaccurate for The Emissary of the Abyss. For as long as The Emissary could remember, howls of agony and wails of sorrow were the symphonic chorus that framed Their life, regardless of Their location. Eventually, it melded with the background and allowed Them to focus on their work, but the song remained. A reminder The Emissary was never alone. A reminder of the mission.

The Emissary’s next destination, Iraira, shone down on Them as scarlet sand and sweltering heat swirled around the mouth of The Abyss. Helpful vessels below reached out a mass of hands to propel The Emissary upwards, Their spidery fingers grasping the rounded edge with ease as They climbed out. A barren desert wasteland welcomed them, a ramshackle village in the distance. Thick dust burnt Their lungs. The planet was mainly desolate due to extreme temperatures and radioactive rain but held enough humanoid inhabitants for a worthwhile investigation.

“Who’re you?”

Small and high-pitched, a voice squeaked to their left. Child. Whatever skin left revealed beneath coarse fur was tanned and leathery. It had two intact hands and two enlarged feet, which held it stable on the quavering sand. An almost perfect vessel if not for its diminutive height.

“We are The Abyss,” The Emissary declared, words foreign and familiar on their tongue. The Irairan vessel they’d proselytised yesterday had been a local, providing the dialect. As expected, the humanoid was confused, but the bright curiosity in its thickly lashed eyes was promising.

“I’m Arn.” Arn pointed toward the dark, perfectly round hole that had suddenly appeared over a few moments and asked, “What’s that?”

“The Abyss,” They repeated, “Would you like to see what is inside?” Arn’s nervous eyes flickered to the village in the distance before calming. Arn hesitantly nodded and moved closer over the shifting ground, clomping feet creating tiny waterfalls of sand with each step. The Emissary turned to stand beside Arn, who’d crouched beside The Abyss’s mouth to peer below.

Arn’s tiny hands clutched the edge for stability as it leaned over and ducked its maned head to pass the threshold between outside and in. Its gaze fluttered over faces, eyes, and limbs. Then, Arn squealed when it tipped too far forward, quickly pushing itself onto its back, panting. Arn looked up at The Emissary with bright, cheery blue eyes and giggled with infectious delight from the thrill. The Emissary couldn’t help but smile back, facial muscles straining.

Then, green scaled hands reached out, seized Arn’s fluffy ankles, and pulled him under.

Some vessels made contributions to The Abyss’s ever-expanding intelligence. Others were solely structural additions, another one or two metres to the infinite tower of hands reaching up towards the light of the mouth. Rarely did vessels manage to achieve both, and rarer still, achieve both profoundly. Arn would provide The Abyss with both, albeit meagrely. His large feet would provide an excellent structural foundation, but his short frame could only reach so far, barely making up for the gap he’d create between The Abyss’s mouth and end. As for knowledge, where there is a humanoid child, there must be parents nearby.

So, The Emissary made Their way toward the crumbling village, Abyss following behind. Consuming some sand would not be harmful to them, but it would be best to expedite the mission. The Emissary’s body was soft, fragile, and feminine in the hopes of conveying pacifism and agreeability. However, this was an inconvenience when potential vessels became aggressive, and humanoids often misunderstood when their kin disappeared.

Several metres from the village, a taller version of Arn appeared, brown fur glinting gold in the sunlight. It ran to-and-fro and recurrently held a textured leather hand to its face to block the burning rays. Relative or neighbour? 'Mother;, Arn’s scant knowledge bestowed. She stopped when she noticed Them.

“What are you?” she asked, arms defensively crossing her chest. Irairan’s weren’t unused to visitors, but they were sparse.

“We are The Abyss.”

Mother’s eyes flickered over Them untrustingly as she bounced on her feet. “Have you seen my son, Arn? He’s small with blue eyes and golden fur. He runs away a lot.” The Emissary nodded with a friendly smile on their red lips to calm Mother’s nerves, but it only made her clutch herself tighter.

“His vessel is inside,” The Emissary replied, moving aside to point to the hole as Arn had. Mother’s face dropped, her big eyes watering with quickly evaporating tears. They continued, “Would you like to see it?”

“No- What the hell are you talking about?” Her furry brow furrowed as she snarled, “You’re saying my son fell down there?”

“Yes. Have a look.”

Mother continued glaring at Them but couldn’t help her fearful gaze returning to the black hole on the ground. Finally, with suspicious glances in The Emissary’s direction, Mother carefully walked to the opposite side of The Abyss, keeping a safe distance, and then kneeled beside it to peer in. The Emissary looked in, too, to mirror her behaviour.

Up from below, hundreds of bright eyes stared through the darkness. Mother couldn’t tell which pair was Arn’s even as she desperately searched for that familiar shade of blue. The Emissary could.

“We can feel your pain,” They said, “If you join us, we can share it. We can share everything. You will never feel alone or abandoned or unsafe ever again. The Abyss is infinite, and there is space, just for you.”

Mother shook her head and crawled backwards away from the hole.

“You’re lying. My Arn isn’t down there. You’re crazy,” she muttered. The mission wasn’t going well, and They didn’t want to attract aggressive attention. The Abyss decided it was time for desperate measures.

Below, the mass heaved and pushed. The screams grew louder, and The Emissary could feel their exhaustion within Their limbs as Their own. Eventually, a small golden hand reached out of the shadows and lay on the scorching sand. At the sight of it, Mother let out a familiar squeal and backed away further, shaky breaths rattling her body. Her fur stood on end.

“Arn?” she whispered. Then she threw herself forwards, clasping the hand between her own and peering desperately back down at him. The vessel stared back blankly. Arn no longer had his voice. That was why they had chosen an emissary.

“His vessel is safe. We would like you to join us.”

Mother looked up at Them with hatred burning behind thick lashes, but Mother could never hate Arn, and They were Arn now too. She pulled on the vessel’s hand, but The Abyss pulled back; she braced herself against the sand, but one Irairan could never equal the strength of the million vessels held beneath.

“You will not pull him out. Do you not wish to join us?” The Emissary’s legs quaked with The Abyss’s strain while Mother panted with her own. “If you do not, we will leave.”

“Give him back,” she cried, “Let him out.”

The Emissary shook Their head, grains of sand falling from Their hair.

“Please, I’ll do anything. We don’t have much- or take me instead; let him out and take me,” she pleaded.

Declaring with finality, “His vessel cannot leave. He has already merged with us,” The Emissary looked down at Mother as she repeated her pleas, melding together into anguished sobs reminiscent of the ceaseless agony They heard. Her tears darkened sand and fur, lingering. They didn’t like it, a mixture of something becoming stuck in Their throat and stretching their organs thin. That surely meant The Abyss didn’t like it too.

“Either your vessel joins his, or you leave him alone,” They said, rubbing Their burning eyes with the soft pads of their fingertips. “You must make your choice now.” Their voice was hard and firm to allow the words to escape. Still, she bent over Arn’s hand, wailing into it. The Abyss reached its limit and slowly pulled Arn back in, Mother dragging along behind it. As his hand finally passed the threshold, she lunged, wrapping her arms around his neck.

An agreement was taken in many forms. Verbal consent was preferred, but many species were incapable of speech. As a result, alternative means were necessary. The Emissary would never force anyone inside, negotiating without pushing, tripping, or tricking. But once someone willingly passed the threshold between the outside world and within, The Abyss understood this as permission. Instinctually, one of the latest vessels would reach out to greet the new addition and pull them into the amalgam.

And so, Mother was Mother no more, joining the collective scream with a melody of her own.