She had known them, once.

Every name and form and face... or lack thereof. The Youma Queen had known each and every one of them, and they had known her. They were like her, and yet each different from the next. Horrible. Beautiful. Perfect. The Rift had been her home, her domain, and she had been welcome there. Now, it was only Metallia's vague interest that kept Tanzanite safe as she walked among the monsters. Too much time and energy been invested to just let her die down there, and so she was left to walk the twisting pathways in solitude.

The caverns were barely lit that far down, filled with the scratches and hisses and the skittering sound of feet as the lowliest of youma scurried through the rock and crystal. With each slow, careful step, Tanzanite's dark claws raked over the obsidian stone, just as they had across the skin of the man who shared its name. No matter how deep she roamed, no matter how cold the stone became against her bare feet, the words of her superior officers haunted her thoughts.

They knew nothing about them, perhaps, but she did.

Or... she had.

Down and down she wandered, as though she might hide from the words that still echoed in her head, reminders of who she had been. Who Metallia wanted her to be. Who she should have been, had her body been able to withstand the process. Tanzanite had never chosen to be bonded to the ancient creature, it had just been unceremoniously shoved into her because Metallia was curious what might happen. Yet as Moonstone had shown... there were simply times when a youma and a person were meant for one another. The remnant of a long-dormant monster, fierce and destructive, and an overzealous young lieutenant determined not to fail.

Naive. Devoted. Malleable.

The beginning of a trial and error process that had now stretched on for far too long.

Trial.

Error.

Trial.

Error.

Trial.

The black phoenix, in her rightful form, had been a creature of terrifying strength, mindlessly bent to the will of a higher power. The same power to which Tanzanite remained unconditionally loyal, having given up any semblance of free will long ago. She remembered the awe and wonder of that moment, when her body simply vanished into the unimaginable power of a Greater youma.

Temporarily.

Error.

Walking the Rift with a deep, unshakable sense of loss, she waited with thorough resignation for the next trial. The next error. On and on forever, because that was what she had been made for. To live and die and live and die and live until her starseed turned to dust and she was finally free of a world she had come to hate. Tanzanite had known the feeling of nearly unlimited strength and power, the ability to terrify and destroy, a time when her name was whispered in fear...and yet she did not mourn them. Her muscles did not ache for strength, her starseed did not yearn for endless energy.

Now... she only missed them.

Losing a personal youma was a traumatizing experience, and Tanzanite felt as thought the Rift itself had been ripped from her heart. Or whatever black, oily mass remained still and lifeless in her chest. She didn't have the energy to spare on rebuilding that useless thing, but somehow... it still ached.

What was she, now, without them? Something else. Nothing else. Everything else. All that General-Queen Tanzanite had not been. Fragile and weak and suddenly alone. That new, wretched shadow of herself could not feel the silent spider youma weaving their webs among the rock, nor the bat like creatures clinging to the ceiling high above. She could not feel those colossal beasts whose names she'd once whispered, sleeping and dormant deep below. In their place, only silence, and she closed her eye to let that heavy despair overwhelm her.

Down there in the darkness, with only her beloved monsters to see, the once mighty Tanzanite fell to her knees and wept.