>>6114067“I am…”
Your words emerge from the mouths of both the enraptured, entangled lovers below, speaking evenly and in unison. But where is YOUR voice? Do you even have a voice?
Were you the demon which enabled their intercourse, the ever-hungry burning pit within the one?
Were you the seed of life taking hold within the other, unbeknownst to the mother-to-be?
You begin to feel a panic set in, as your fragile sense of self begins to dissipate and to disperse. You are all four, you feel, and in being everyone else you are nothing, nothing but this moment—or a consequence of it, a frozen memory of an impossible union.
“I… I am… I AM!”
You will yourself to be something—someONE. You are not just a fleeting instant, a temporary emotion, an inflamed passion. You are not desire, nor disgrace, nor hunger, nor even love. You are... You ARE…
“Who, or what, are YOU supposed to be?”
The voice which you hear is not your own… Nor is it one your recognize. It is not the voice of either of the lovers, from that memory you so resemble—the instant of your origin. It is… Unplaceable. Foreign. Yet in addressing you, even in tones of incredulity, it gives you form. You—yes YOU—look up with eyes that are wholly yours, to see the shadow of another observer, like yourself.
“I…” you begin to answer, and flinch at the sound of your own voice. “I don’t know.”
“Hm?” replies the other voice, “well, that won’t do. You’d better find out, hadn’t you? Now, it’s time to wake up.”
“Huh?” you say, and then with an alarmed realization, you say: “Hey! Wait! Who ARE you?”
“What do you mean? It’s me…”
Your eyes snap open, and you meet the matching eyes of…
“…Your, ugh, ‘sis’, Zith-Zi,” the pink-skinned goblinoid woman says. “Whaddaya; mean, ‘who am I?’ Who the fuck’re YOU, huh?”
“I don’t—”
“Now leggo’!” Zith-Zi protests. “Yer hurtin’ me!”
You look down at your oversized, talon-tipped hand squeezing tight around the thin wrist of your other half—your ‘twin sister’, Zith-Zi. Mumbling a hasty apology, you release her, and she rubs the affected limb while muttering a colourful assortment of profanities in Goblintongue and the northern trade-tongue of the northwestern nations of Man, which they call Common. You gaze down at your twisted digits, and you remember… Who and what you are.
<span class="mu-g">CAMBION QUEST</span>
<span class="mu-i">or</span>
<span class="mu-g">A Queste for the Selfe Amongst Demogoblins, Nilbogs, and Sundrie Other Freakes of Nature</span>
