In Chakros of 505 MA, Baalziel, the once-Emissary of the Malevolent hosted the Goddess' funeral. The solemn process began with her progression to the onyx sarcophagus of the Muse, situated within Iosyne's temple in the Aureliana forest. Having gathered the scattered essence of the slain Goddess within the locket that held Iosyne's dead heart, Baalziel approached the Muse's onyx sarcophagus, casting aside the tentacles that held it firmly shut.

She pushed off the heavy lid aside to reveal the desiccated corpse of the Muse. Though the proceedings were momentarily disrupted by the zealous shouts of one Rasani Morrog, styled the Godsmith, most simply dismissed her interruption, save for Maeve Visara who christened the ground with her spit to demonstrate her distaste.

Iosyne's present and past became one as Baalziel placed the dead heart upon the shriveled corpse, laying the still organ to rest in the appropriate place beneath cracked ribcage. Brass chain and receptacle dissipated as the meagre vestiges of Iosyne's remaining essence seeped out from the black heart, returning to the corpse: thus did Malevolence join the Muse in the finality of death.

Baalziel allowed her hand to linger upon the heart, stealing a moment of silent reverie. Despite the hopes of the once-Emissary, however, reality set in as the corpse had no answer to give, and finally Baalziel retreated from the Goddess' resting place to signal Lenoriel Ali'vani-Ourborian, an Enforcer of the late Iosyne, to step forward and deliver the opening euology.

Lenoriel spoke of the Iosyne's time as the Muse, of the Inspiration and creativity that were Her realm then, once a Goddess of life, peace, and beauty before She was slain by Her Siblings, who claimed Her eyes and heart. She praised the tenacity of the Goddess, Her demise and rebirth to find Her truths: to grasp and hold power, so as to live wholly on Her own terms; to stand strong and wary, knowing not only that She could be as powerful as any of Her siblings but that any might match Her as well; and to embrace every pain that faced Her, knowing that it was but a tool to use and held lessons and opportunities alike.

Next did Lenoriel affirm her love and devotion for the departed Goddess, citing the Malevolent as role model and inspiration for the young woman who had been crushed by the world but refused to be erased. She spoke of the utter bleakness of being taken by Ohlsana, the removal of all choice. Of the Malevolent's last defiance and strength to shape the world, to keep hold of Herself long enough and to enough of an extent to dictate Her own terms even then. Last came her farewell to her Goddess: thanks given, hope expressed that this would not be the final farewell.

The one styled Tick, Lieutenant Tetchta V. Mesis, began with stated facts - Iosyne, Fourteenth-now-Sixth, felled at the Empire's behest, fate meted by the Warlord's blade. Spider, they called Her, traitor, the Creature who took Bloodloch, who delivered a Shard of Lanos' sword to Ohlsana. Is that all She was? Thousands - millions - of seconds on the world, yet it is only the very last ones that become one's legacy, as if all the ones preceding it never happened. In those last seconds, final acts made in the blink of eye, is one irrecovably branded.

As the Tick continued to sink into the bottle in their grasp, amidst Lord Rijetta Alhazrad's sobs of Despair, they announced their disdain for the notion. Piss on that, on history, legacy, titles, books. Tetchta called out their challenge to friend and foe alike: did any of the onlookers resist the Shadow Mother? Traitors, Tetchta declared them as they averted their gazes, a legacy shared by the Goddess who bulwarked the Rot, Who bled for Bloodloch, Who bled for this plane.

She needed to die, confirmed Tetchta, for the Enemy She became in the end, as all enemies of the Empire must. But the Goddess' boons, Her words, Her sacrifices in the years, decades, lifetimes prior - those were not to be forgotten. Bottle emptied, rage boiled in the Tick as they vowed not to let the 'Akkari scum' [the Grand Library notes that it merely scribes and neither endorses nor condemns] control Iosyne's story, to remember all She did for those of Sapience in Her final moments.

The first to ascend to Chaos, Rhyot Vyktaire, was the next to speak. The once-heathen conveyed mutual respect between Goddess and Chaos Lord, professed lifelong adherence to Malevolence's Rules - Rules he followed before he knew the Goddess, Rules he will follow long after Her demise: Pain, to deal with the loss of a Goddess. Equality, to push through and be there for those who share in the Pain to grow from it. Power, to see Her Rules continue to thrive and spread.

Faith, Rhyot proclaimed in Iosyne's gambit, that it was a shame that faith was not shared, that misguided perceptions led to Her demise. Cutting open his wrist to freely spill his blood upon the sarcophagus, the Chaos Lord proclaimed his respect, his remembrance, his friendship, his adherence Ever Forward. When the Chaos Lord rejoined the assembled, it was with tears streaking his face, his normally stoic demeanour cracked underneath his grief.

Cabalist Axius Calonderiel stepped forward now, the Enforcer that gifted the golden spider often seen adorning the Malevolent's wrist. As he presented the bracelets in life, so too did he in death, affixing a spidery iron bracelet to the unmoving arm of the Goddess' corpse. That act would serve as Axius' eulogy in place of words.

Though tears ran many and free amongst the onlookers in the wake of each speech, none sorrowed as openly or dramatically as Lord Alhazrad, her very body quivering with the force of her sobs.

It was now that the words rang Immortal, Severn stepping forward, flickers of emotion betraying the God's terse and impassive nature. Though many knew His Consort over the past hundred and thirty years as the Malevolent, He declared it a footnote upon the thousands of years She had existed. Lost in the throes of recollection and nostalgia, the Manipulator invoked Her ancient name of Iyosin, Goddess of Strategy, the Thousandfold Tactician, the Thrice Thorned Rose, and the Virtue of Inspiration - Her mortal shell an Ankyrean beauty by the name of Minsoye.

Recalling the oft repeated Ankyrean saying that Reason and Strategy go hand-in-hand, Severn recounted the start of His relationship with His Consort, stoicism cracking for the briefest of moments before He forcibly regained composure. As cunning as She was ruthless, He named Iosyne, a ruthlessness borne from the necessity of that time, of Their war with the Albedi, though She loved it not. And so when war concluded, Iosyne forsook Strategy. Cleared of Her memories by Their Father's Mercy, Iosyne embraced Inspiration, turning to the Arts - and away from the Manipulator.

It would not be until the Midnight Age Their relationship would be rekindled when Malevolence was born, cunning and ruthlessness retaken by the Goddess. Severn recounted Her millenia of service to Sapience, whether in warfare as Strategy, through culture as the Muse, or with pain as the Malevolent. Even in Her final moments, taken by Shadow, She yet found a way to serve one last time. With a solemn frown, Severn declared the spark of Inspiration lost, stepping back into the shadows to return to His machinations elsewhere.

As Rijetta's wailed her despair did Despair manifest, Chakrasul's words sharp and clipped, delivered from Her stiff, motionless form: "My Sister died on Her own terms. If you wish to remember anything of Her, choose that."

Watching the proceedings in silence - and unrestrained disdain for the Manipulator - the Indelible was the first to notice Omei's arrival, turning Her curiosity to the Imago. The Goddess so often cloaked in swathes of chaotic colour arrived in resplendent hues of red and black, mourning in Her eyes, to profess regret at undoing Her Sister. Instinct recounted Their time together, vying for the love of a Father incapable of reciprocating it. Children - infant Children - were They as They fought for a Father that had already lied to Them both.

Struggling to maintain Her composure, Omei lamented the Father that turned Her into a monster - a fate She then visited upon Her Sister. She remembered Malevolence's forgiveness, the snack of stolen eyes shared together, though She deemed Herself unworthy of it. Was this Iyosin's final mockery, wondered the Imago, to deny Her just punishment? To make Her live without Her Sister.

Blinking back tears, Omei declared Her victory [the Grand Library quotes verbatim and passes neither agreement or protest]: "I won, you arachnid bitch." The proclamation seemed to bring Her no joy.

Last did Xenia come forward. Invoking the authority granted to Malevolence's most favoured, the Idreth called forth a wavering simulacrum of the Malevolent, gracing the procession with the last missive of Iosyne's Voice.

[For the sake of posterity, the final words heard in Iosyne's voice are captured in their unedited entirety.]

"Pain. Equality. Power. These are the things Iosyne required of anyone who chose to walk the Malevolent's path. When the facade had faded and it became clear that She was that entity we know as Nega-Iosyne, She cast many people from Her order stating, 'Most of you will never understand Me'. Many of you here branded Her a traitor. She wasn't. To the bitter end She upheld Her greatest loyalty, which was not to the Empire She oversaw, but to all of Sapience.

Whether She strategically fell or not, She wielded the power found in that situation and embraced the pain of sacrifice it would cost and were it not for this choice, Sapience along with most of you would be lost . I say this to each of you, if you feel remorse or regret for doubting Her allegiance to Sapience and our Creator, embrace that pain. Let Her last moments stand as what true fealty looks like, Hers was to Sapience above all else. Iosyne's death was a sacrifice for all of us and will now serve as a standard for what utmost loyalty costs. Honor Her by upholding and enforcing that standard with the Equality She demanded of Her followers:

Know no greater. Know no lesser."

Spent alongside the Goddess it represented, the simulacrum of disintegrated into grains of shadow, washing away the last remnants of the Malevolent's likeness.

Penned by my hand on Tisday, the 9th of Khepary, in the year 505 MA.
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