Object 640
The Holder of Evolution
You know, Seeker, only a lucky (or unlucky, depending on your personal opinion) few have ever actually found me, and most of them I quickly forget. There is one, however, that I seem to think about often. Her name was Cecilia, if memory serves, and she was just as beautiful as her name. She had long brown hair that fell to her shoulders, the strands reflecting the light and becoming strands of the sun itself next to her smooth, soft skin. I remember being a pendant then, and feeling her heartbeat as blood pulsed ever so softly through her jugular. To have a perfect, wonderful, immaculate creature such as her under my control was enthralling in its own way. It's a shame she had to die the way she did.
If I remember correctly, she had wanted to seek the Holder of Evolution. Well, I had wanted her to, but she more or less wanted whatever I wanted her to want by that point. She had spent months tracking the Holder down, for the Holder of Evolution can't be found just anywhere. I believe you have to find the bones of something that lived long ago, preferably by taking them right out of the ground. Yes, that's it. Or do you have to find bones that are on display...? No, they need to be in the ground. That's why Celia had to do so much research, so she could find a site that would have ancient bones still buried in it.
Anyway, she finally found a few bones that looked like they came from a dinosaur, or some other large creature. She did as I instructed, impaling herself upon one of the ribs. That hurt me to do, Seeker, it really did. You may think that the Objects don't feel emotion, and indeed, neither had I until that moment. I felt a twinge of what must have been sadness as my Cecilia forced the rib between her own, as the blood dribbled in rivulets from her mouth and her breast. Had I not known that she was not truly dead, I could indeed have been overcome with sadness then and there.
What happened next, Seeker, is something you are not worthy of knowing. We eventually were left at a barren wasteland. I do not remember how long it was before her beautiful eyes fluttered, and she realized where she was. I was able to assuage her shock relatively quickly, mostly because I controlled her. After a few minutes, a creature appeared before us. The Holder was the pinnacle of evolution, a being evolved to the point of nigh-perfection. I could feel my Cecilia trembling as she faced it, her beautiful heart quickening its pace and the blood rushing through her veins as she faced the only being that could ever rival her perfection.
With her wonderful, softly musical voice, she asked the Holder, "How have They evolved?" The wasteland cracked and split, parts of the ground falling away as what little life was within the land ebbed into nothingness. And then, it told her. It told her how They have changed, how they have become more efficient, more brutal, more perfect. As the Holder spoke, I could feel my Cecilia's mind protesting as this information flooded it. I could feel it breaking slowly as it was raped and defiled by this Holder's knowledge. After it finished, the Holder divulged to her the secret, the one utter truth about Their existence. The snapping of my Cecilia's mind was almost audible.
She screamed, her elegant fingers tearing away at her beautiful soft face until almost nothing remained. She fell to her knees, screaming, the force of it rupturing her throat, her exquisite neck tearing open in gaping holes. And still, she screamed. She screamed and screamed, screamed for years as her beautiful, ravishing form broke apart. She screamed until only bones remained, the subtle irony of her demise hanging palpably in the air. Her quest had begun with bones, and now it had ended in the same fashion. Irony aside, I was depressed to see her die. Cecilia, my beautiful Cecilia, had cracked. She had broken, gone mad. Her corpse, what was left of it, lay at the feet of the Holder of Evolution, still elegant even as it rotted away.
And now, Seeker, I am in my realm, awaiting another to find me, waiting for another fool to enslave. Perhaps it will be you. Perhaps you will be the next Seeker that I will bend to my will, the next Seeker whose mind I make my own. You will never be able to replace my Cecilia, but I suppose you will have to do.