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.................... : // REQUESTING ARCHIVE......

......ARCHIVE RETRIEVED : ....................

.................... : // REQUESTING ARCHIVE......

......ARCHIVE RETRIEVED : ....................

.................... : // REQUESTING ARCHIVE......

......ARCHIVE RETRIEVED : ....................

I have accepted a God’s larval stone into my flesh. I am not entirely sure why I decided to pursue this study but now that I am doing so, I am focusing wholly on it. I have yet to determine if such parasitic beings pose the same threat as the dreaded Yerks and I will be using this study to review their lifecycle. As I am the both the observer and subject, I Exalla, will be keeping daily speech logs to track the process. I am doubtful that the larva will claim me but it remains a possibility.
My theory exists as follows: the Edelsteine, while powerful, are not gods but beings of energy. There are old civilizations, older than even we Andalites and I am not so naïve as to believe they were incapable of world-changing acts. However, I hypothesize that this race of ancient beings fell from power for reasons as of yet unknown and their echoes are reigniting. Perhaps this planet was their Prime. In any event, I believe their energy-based existence will not consume my flesh.

The day after the Implanting, I noticed a presence at the back of my awareness as if someone were standing directly behind me. Frequent checking revealed the perception was psychological in nature. The first symptom, therefore, appears to be the development of minor paranoia and sensory displacement, the phantom sensation is neither benign nor malicious, merely an observer standing too close. It disrupts my concentration, I am not a creature of closed spaces. Do all hosts experience this heavy presence?

I also attempted to remove the gem and even with the use of Andalite medical technology, I have not succeeded in moving the gem. It is rooted and my attempts to move it have been thwarted by a failure of will in most cases. Is this the result of another psychological effect? A subconscious survival instinct may be caused by the larva’s bonding. Curiously, however, material study of the larva’s make up revealed no biological or technological traces. It is a mineral, a gemstome, implanted into the skin that somehow fuses with the flesh. This is most curious and unusual. There is, however, a small energy signature, as expected, and the boundary between stone and flesh is a smooth transition as if the mineral changes phase at its boundary.

In the two days after the implanting, I noticed noise seemed stronger, like a static in the back of my mind. As with smells, continued exposure resulted in a tuning out of the noise but the possibility of sensory effects remains. Do all gems effect their hosts this way?

If I focus, I can hear rhythm in the noise. It is not random. At times it sounds like heartbeats, others the roar of the ocean. I believed this is an attempt at communication at first but when I opened myself to the sound, it inundated me. The very metal sang with sound, the flora and fauna crowded in my head, and a sound I can only describe as the roar of the cosmos nearly scoured me hollow. My mind is bruised and I am having difficulty concentrating. I am vulnerable now. What I thought was communication is perhaps a disguised mental attack.

The observation by the presence has changed to riffling through my memories, my emotions… I can feel it sifting through my conscience and I am powerless to stop it not because I am without control but because I lack the mental strength. I am raw. The ‘Gods’ are more dangerous then I thoug- [the recording goes silent as Exalla collapses from mental exhaustion].

Addendum to Log:
I collapsed. Review of the date and time suggests I have been unconscious for a period of three hours. My knees are bruised and my neck is stiff from the jostling but there are no abrasion or lacerations. Medical examination via the onboard analyzer reveals there is no trauma to my brain – no concussion and the logs indicate no sudden loss of blood flow or other cause of a blackout. I can only assume from the lack of evidence that the mental exhaustion and accompanying blackout was the cause of interaction with the parasite.
The previous log indicates that I believe it was a mental attack. I…. do not recall making such statement. My memories seems to be jumbled. Is that the result of the parasite accessing my mind? There were no grabs for control as a Yerk would have, however, and for that I am grateful. Still, the very fact that my knowledge, my very being, can be accessed as easily as if I were recalling a map at a navigation console speaks to the danger these Edelsteine represent. An abuse of that power could easily result in another tragedy – a tragedy I will NOT be responsible for.

Upon further reflection, no other attempts at communication have been attempted. If the goal was to overwhelm, would the parasite not blast my consciousness again and again? Perhaps further attempts are warranted… The other beings indicate a high level of sentience, it would be atypical for the parasite I harbor to lack such ability to express thoughts or experience emotion.

I am still weary. The re-attempt at communication will occur tomorrow, after I have rested.


---

The fool! Small steps, little steps I try to speak, to find the words and ways to tell her my name and she opens herself to what little presence I have. It is frustrating this lack of control, this lack of speech. I am Sound and I have not the strength to speak my name. She knows me now, though the cost is yet to be seen… I already feel cracks beginning in her mind and my essence pouring in. I will have this body but not before we truly talk.

The noise…. It’s not just noise. There is a pattern there, I can hear it. If I can decipher it, I can communicate. The ship’s systems refuse to record what I hear, stupid equipment. How can they not? The sounds are deafening at worst, distracting at best. They grow each day… it’s been… how long? I’ve lost count.

All I know is that the noise is there, ever present, like the weight on my shoulder or the shadows watching me in the corner. Approaching them scares them off but when I turn my back and walk away, they’re there again, watching. I call them phantoms and only pacing seems to give me respite from their gaze.

They pulsate, their edges undefined, in time with the noise and I can affect that with my pacing – stronger when I walk away, weaker towards. The noise responds, I can tell! But what does it say? What does the parasite want?

There! In the noise, a shift in the thrum, a waver in tone. It is speech, I know it. How can I not know it? I am here surrounded, soaked in it… consumed even. No! Not consumed! I will not be consumed! Where did I think that? I never thought that… it is from the outside.

The outside… the phantoms! The voices tell me to succumb, to be consumed, you know? You know! I can tell, you pulse with the rythym of the noise! You, you’re conspiring with the parasite! I tell you, I will NOT succumb to the static! I will not!

I will not let you influence me! My onservations, my watching will remain pure, logical! You are neither… you must be gone… You will not go/ You MOCK me with your pulsing, the voices in the noise urge me, tell they are my allies, that I should vanquish you.

Be gone! Ha! I shall cut you down! Yes, flee you phantoms, flee and fall before my blade!

I am victorious. The shadows are gone, dissolver beneath my shorm. The noise sings praises, fills me with accomplishment.

I…. cannot forget this betrayal, I must not. Let me set reminders, yes….

---
She rests quietly now, her sleep the only relief from my presence. Unfortunate child, she is buckling… not strong enough to withstand my growth. I made no voices, no phantoms in the noise for her to hear. I am watching a mortal tumble into madness, locked in the confines of my limited awareness, and I can do little.

There are words scrawled across the walls, repeated over and over – her reminders, it seems. I can only she remains deluded when she wakes else I fear a complete break is near. This one is proud, too proud, to stand against the realization she is losing her mind… the madness will claim her before I do.

I fear she will hurt herself beyond repair. She vanquished her phantoms, yes, but the consoles are jagged and smashed now, their interfaces no longer useable. Every time I think, I shift, she reacts instinctually – Exalla may not hear my words but she feel my presence. The phantoms and voices are her attempts to quantify my existence…

I am Sound. I cannot be silence, and it is driving my host mad.

I have watched over Exalla as her health has declined. Her depression has deepened and she spends many long hours sleeping, barely eating, and staring into space. My essence grows with each day, consuming more and more of her – we’ve reached a tipping point and the balance is in my favour.

The noise! It’s so loud, I can barely think! Thunderous, constant, alien, familiar all at once! I can hear my own heart, the crackle of power through lines, the shriek of wind through the fins of the metal outside…. I, I think I can hear everything. The static dissolves into cacophony and then resolves into astounding, multifaceted clarity rhythmically so that I cannot even adjust to it, as one would a smell.

There is language there, I know it. There has to be. The phantoms come and go while I listen. The noise grows and grows, I’m drowning but I cannot succumb! I will stand vigilant, listening, discerning. Nothing will stop me!

But, what’s the point? When I try, I feel myself slipping more… I see motes, pulsing orbs of sound that disappear when I blink. They haunt me, soak up the noise and play it back, mocking me, leading me.

But where?

She clings to the hope of communicating with me but her mind is spiraling, racing and every time I’ve tried, she tailspins into either a sobbing mess or a ranting fervor. I lack the control yet to finesse these attempts at interaction and I feel it would be kinder to burn through her tattered remains rather than make her linger.

Where am I being lead? Why? The world is sound, noise, a million million words… impressions that press down upon me. I must learn its secret, its whispers are just there… I can almost reach them.

But I am exhausted. I cannot remember when I last ate… I sit here, on this bed of grass and wonder what does it all mean? Why me? I was a dancer once… I wasn’t meant for experiments, for exploration or battle. I know my role… and that is gone. I feel like I’m grasping at shards of a broken mirror. I know I talk to myself and yet I find myself no longer caring.

The only thing to keep me company is the rock in my flesh and the noise of the world… at least words are mine still. Mine… my words…. I need to be searching for those, meaning is here somewhere.

Perhaps that is the answer.

The noise is louder than usual, forcefully so, and the motes are back, bright spots of light all around my vision. I hear the roar of wind and the stammer of rain washing in sheets to hiss down the hull. The bang, crash of thunder causes to ship to vibrate, sing with energy and my head feels as if it were splitting. The rush of blood, the pounding of my heart… even the whisper of fur on fur is focused now, drowning everything else out so that all I can hear is the noise of my existence. The clack of a hoof on texture metal, its echo… and in the echo is my name, faintly.

Wait! My name! I strain, jump into the sound of myself, reaching. The noise closes in again and the headache descends, the name, the words slipping away. My frustration peaks and I lash out at anything, anything at all.

My shouts echo, consumed by the sound.

End this game! I beg of you!

How long had it been since Exalla had stepped from her ship was obscure – both to the mortal for whom time was now meaningless and for the deity who paid time’s passage no heed. After Exalla’s inward withdrawal, Aumvos was forced to wait, grow within her cocoon until could puppet it. If left to her own, Exalla’s behavior had devolved into either weeping or enraged ranting and Aumvos had no interest in entertaining her host’s fractured mind.

Thankfully, the sustaining grass within the ship grew continuously such that when limbs began to move at Aumvos’ behest, Exalla’s body was simply weak from stillness, not malnutrition. First the eye stalks swept around, blinking rapidy as Aumvos took the 360 degree vision field in stride. Fingers came next, arching, folding, moving indepently and smoothly where they’d twitched unceremoniously before. Motion swept through her arms, her neck, and through her body, giving the eeries impression of an automaton slowly being resurrected, Rolling slender shoulder, Aumvos mentally sighed with pleasure – this long-coming shift in balance was a much needed release for the Goddess.

Last to respond was Exalla’s – now her – tail, sweeping along the ground like an irritated cat’s for several minutes before it finally responded properly. Shakily, slowly, Aumvos rose and her eyes were bright with triumph. This body was hers to control, its mind a font of knowledge, and before her the world awaited the Sonus Omnes’ return. Eagerly, she stepped forward, dainty hoof sinking slightly into the grass. The step was steady and coordinated so she tried another and soon one step became many as she circled the ship’s interior, stretching the stiffness out of back and limbs.
Pausing before a mirror, Aumvos review herself critically. It was a start, certainly, and the host’s form was at once elegant and imposing, useful for the sorts of dealings she preferred to entertain. There were many flaws, of course, as if she were wearing ill-fitting garments but Sound was pleased to move and think, unfettered by the demanding mortal mind. She would sculpt the body to her liking but she would take her time.

With motor function under control, Aumvos stood before the door, her eyes narrowing in a frown as anxiety coursed through her. This ship, these sounds and challenges were familiar whereas outside, time had forgotten her and she held no more sway than any other mortal. The realization struck hard and fast, the pang of feeling uncomfortably small echoing the deeply buried fear of dying out once more. Shuffling her feet, Aumvos snorted at the hesitation and called herself foolish. She was among the first in Creation, there was no need to shy from the world. Smacking the palms of her hands against her cheeks, Aumvos inhaled deeply and squared her shoulders before pressing the door’s release panel.

The woosh of the door as it opened made her smile, though eyes watered as sweet-smelling air was drawn in to flow across her chest and face. So fresh compared to the stale air of the ship, Aumvos took another large breath, reveling in the newness, and the space afforded her. Moving forward, she stepped daintily but confidently out into the rain. It was chilly, wet, and mildly windy, causing her body to shiver almost immediately at the shift in temperature.

Then the sounds filtered through – the patter of rain on metal, the suck of feet in mud, the cries of birds among the soggy tree branches and countless other sounds distracted the Goddess. Many were new to her and for Sound, it was a beautiful moment.

She lost count, standing in the rain and the cold, as she lost herself in the sounds of life around her, and it was only when a sneeze shook her frame was Aumvow prompted to seek shelter to wait out the storm.