Of Love and Death.

The Past Chapter 15: Cold's Requiem Pt. 3

And then Cold was shaking. Shaking with her eyes wide open. Which was dumb. She shouldn't be shaking, she was fine. And she didn't get scared. She didn't get spooked. Just because her old body had died a heartbeat after she left it didn't mean anything. Stupid heart, beating fast with adrenaline. Especially when there was no reason to. What a waste of strength.

Yet still, Cold was shaking. The darkness, closing in on her, pulling her closer and closer. Normally she loved darkness. But there had been something about that center. Something that should never be seen, something that shouldn't belong in the universe. So unlike anything else in the world. Like all of the light in existence was inside that point. Anything, it could kill anything. Suck it down into itself and wrench anything that made it itself.

Destroy it all until it all looked the same. Cold was a part of the universe. Everything felt somewhat familiar to her. Even the stars, burning oh-so-terribly bright. But that? That thing felt completely different. She knew that some people had a habit of going out into space, and gazing at those terrifying monsters from a distance. Cold thought she'd understood why. To behold something so awesome, so powerful. Humbling, but in a good way. Now? Now she would never, ever, understand why someone would want to be so close to something so terrible.

But Cold had done it. She'd come out of the belly of the beast. Seen what felt like the heart of existence, or maybe its inversion. And she had her prize. Curled up in her arms, clutched close to her chest. Although maybe clutched was the wrong word. In truth, her prize was bigger than she was. It wasn't quite frozen anymore, unfortunately. Already, being out in the universe had warmed it up the tiniest bit. So now, the black hole matter was moving again.

Holding out her arms, Cold studied her prize. Which was...acting weird. It was floating, of course. This was space. But there was something off about it other than that. The way that the gleaming fluid (was it a fluid?) acted. It was like it had a mind of its own. Slipping and sliding, condensed into a ball and moving perfectly in sync with itself. Almost a pulsing effect. Something near otherworldly.

There was something beautiful to the sphere. A beauty that reminded Cold of herself. In the way that it reflected the dim, dim light from distant stars. Reaching her hand out, Cold slightly poked the side of the sphere. It felt cold. Still cold. A smile crossed her face. For some reason, Cold saw herself in the black hole matter. She saw herself in its shimmer, its temperature. She loved it. All of this had been worth it. Now she could create her weapons. Her beautiful deadly weapons.

Reaching her hand fully into the sphere, Cold cupped some of the fluid. Closing her eyes, she reached back inside of herself. For that frozen center. Yet again, she let that absence of anything warm spread from her into the sphere. Felt it become nearly synonymous with her. But the icy shadow had to restrain herself. She needed something special, not just a frozen ball.

What Cold needed from this ice-like material was for it to be sharp. Really that was the main qualification. She needed it to be sharp, and able to be held. A thin blade, about the length of her forearm. Packed so, so tight so that it would never shatter. Hammered into itself so that it felt like it almost couldn't be denser. But, of course, it could. And then the handle. Rounded and smooth, so that it would perfectly fit in the palm of her hand. This wasn't something she wanted cutting her.

The image was perfect. And, in Cold's palm, she could feel it. Her creation had come to life. Opening her eyes, she pulled the weapon, her prize, the thing so frozen it felt like a part of herself, out of the sphere. It was black. Jet black. Black as her eyes, black as the horizon of a black hole. Black like infinity. Black in a way that almost shouldn't exist. This was the absence of light, the absence of color. Any attempt of that fragile shine to try and penetrate this dagger's walls would fail. It would all be consumed inside of her cherished creation. Eaten to make its darkness stronger.