Chapter 32

One of the Cassillis gods of art, Raffendus, commonly worshipped by Elves, has strong ties with theater and dance. Many of the Elven Blade Dancers, the Saylinna, pay honors to the god, as many say he is the origin of the art. Those who have seen the fickle and playful god say he wears the mask of Comedy and Tragedy.

Day 329 Smeltesday

“So you think you’ve fixed things with Rose?” Ferris asked as we cleaned from breakfast and readied to head to our classes.

“I’m not going to guarantee it, but if things work out like I think they will, she’s gonna get a wish granted that she’s had for a while now.” I tossed the trash from my tray into the bin beside the tray station.

“That’s a relief,” Nel said as she stepped up beside me to do the same. “You’ve been moping ever since that fight you had with her. I thought you two had gotten into a spat that might never resolve.”

“Heh.” I gave a half-hearted chuckle at the thought of the confrontation with Rose. “I thought I had royally kicked the hound when she snapped at me like that.”

“From what you told us, I’d say it was closer to kicking the whole Black Shuck pack.” Ferris commented as he led the way out of the dining hall. “I would’ve never guessed that she was a caster?!”

“I was totally clueless.” Came Nel as she skip-stepped to catch up to Ferris.

“I wonder what class she is?” Ferris pondered. “Wizard? Sorceress? Fury?”

“Why are you only listing Solidim classifications? She could be an Ember, or a Dyad Theurgic Mage, or even a Theurgic Mage. Besides, the only one with an affinity for water on your list was the Wizard.” Nel corrected with a wag of her finger in Ferris’s direction.

“You really think she pulled favor from a God or Titan?” Ferris looked at her with blatant skepticism.

Nennel shrugged in answer without meeting the Elf’s gaze. “You never you. You can’t rule it out.”

“Oh yeah,” Ferris’s voice was thick with sarcasm. “She just up and found faith overnight, and over the course of a few weeks, she pulled enough favor from her chosen god to become a priest or some craziness.”

“How about we drop the topic.” I interjected, as I stepped between the two in an effort to close the conversation.

“Alright, oh master Mastlok.” Ferris teased. “How about you let us in on that top-secret training plan you got with that uncle of yours?” He leaned in close to my face as he pried.

I visibly flinched at the remark and inwardly kicked myself for such a blatant tell. I wanted to tell them the truth about the order, but how? If I just came out and said it, they’d likely think I was joking, and Thallos would make it his priority-one goal to silence them for good. But if I didn’t tell them, they would be joining some alchemist-mad order that was totally okay with sapient sacrifice. And what if they did believe me? It’s not like I could convince my uncle to take them on as well. Talking him into taking on Rose was a feat in and of itself. They could just drop out of the academy, I guess. But then they would get their memory scrubbed, and they’d have no idea who I was. Could I sneak them off the grounds? I was pretty sure that dozens of students over the years had tried to escape the place for one reason or another, and I was pretty sure that the academy staff caught them all.

“Hello? Anyone in there, horn-head?” Ferris lightly rapped his knuckles against one of my horns. I shook myself out of my ponderous wanderings.

“Sorry, I was having flashbacks to training last week.” I lied, half-trying to play like I had some form of PTSD from training. But would that even really be a joke or a lie? I forced myself back into the moment. “But my question is, when did you actually take me, Nel, and Rose on as friends?”

“What do you mean?” He looked totally confused by my question, so I elaborated.

“If you remember when I first swooped in and saved your cut ear ass, you didn’t think I was serious about friendship, so I had to convince you it was a business deal.”

“Oh! Yeah, I had forgotten about that.”

“So, where was the change from business partners to honest friends?” I pressed.

“Well, if you remember, the next week and a half when we hung out after class, I was kinda awkward.”

“Yeah?” I questioningly agreed, waiting for him to explain.

“Well, when I saw how you and Nel were treating each other and how Rose treated you, Iver, I started to imitate the interactions. It felt really weird poking fun at you and not meaning anything mean by it, and sharing my past with you guys was unbelievably scary for me. I thought you all were going to jump on me for showing weakness like a pack of wild hounds. But I tested the waters, and nothing horrible happened, so I just kept mimicking you guys till I found my own way to do things that clicked with you all.”

“Wait. You’re telling me that you just pretended to be comfortable with us for those first few months?” Nel questioned in disbelief.

“I get the idea. Basically, fake it till you make it, right?” I pointed out as we passed through the dining hall doors to step outside.

“Pretty much.” Ferris admitted, a blush rising in his tanned cheeks.

Nel scoffed in disbelief. “And here I thought that business nonsense was just a poor excuse to join us. But you honestly didn’t know how to have friends.”

“In his defense,” I started, “I had never had friends till you guys. In fact, Nel, you were my very first friend.”

“I think I remember you saying something like that a while back.” I could see Nel mentally shuffling through memories, looking for the moment when I said that. After a handful of seconds, she clearly just gave up on the hunt and turned back to Ferris and me. “So you guys are telling me that of the three of us, I am the only one that had friends before joining the academy.”

Ferris and I both have nods of confirmation. “Yeah.”

“Pretty much.”

She threw up her hands in mock outrage and proclaimed, “I can’t believe it. I’ve been spending my time with a pair of know-nothing losers.”

“Hey!” I stepped up to confront her. “This know-nothing loser saved your mechanical ass more than once. And care to remind me how many times you’ve asked me to work on your internals, hmm?” I teased.

She gave with an amused grin, even as she playfully shoved me away. “Don’t rub it in gears-for-brains. If I remember right, you were the one begging to do the work so you could get a closer look at my parts.” She turned away and covered herself in mock modesty. “You know, a girl doesn’t show her servos to just anyone.”

I gave the girl a look of total disbelief. “Oh, shut that mechanical trap of yours. You know full well you’re more of a sister to me than anything else.”

“Well, brother dearest,” she teased back. “Why don’t you tell your beloved little sister about your training?” As she spoke, she clasped her hands together in front of her hips, and she turned back and forth in an attempt to look innocent and pleading.

“You know that’s not going to work. But the best thing I can give you as an example of my training is what we’ve been doing on our Quenchendays. That sparring is pretty much what I’m doing most of the time, only dialed up to twelve and with Thallos quizzing me while he beats the snot out of me.” I changed the topic and diverted focus. “But speaking of training, what about you two? How are your scores for the Sects, and which ones are you aiming to join?”

Ferris’s face curled in disgust. “You know I’ve been trying to join Silent Heart.” He started.

“Yeah.” I agreed.

“Well, my Hit Vector score is only twelve for the whole year. The Assassin Mystagogues all say that I’m too aggressive and impatient.”

I winced in sympathy.

“But I’ve got a solid sixty-four on my Escape Vector, and thanks to your guys’ help, I’ve got a forty-two in my Martial Vector. So I’m gonna swing for Mastlok of Crimson Blades and Sightless Eye.”

“So you’re trying to get the role of a Phase Wolf.” The comment lept from my mouth before I even knew my lips were moving.

The other two turned to me with looks of confusion.

“What now?” Ferris asked.

I chided myself again for not thinking. “Each combination of sects has a role title. The one you are aiming for, Crimson Blade and Sightless Eye, is called a Phase Wolf.”

“Really?” Nel turned to face me fully. “Then what about mine? I’ve got high scores in Sightless Eye and Silent Heart.”

“You’re scoring as an assassin?” I asked in disbelief.

“Come now, Iver. You’ve seen my speed and dexterity. You have to admit that I’m plenty agile for the role.”

“That’s not what’s got me confused, Nel. You are a very upfront and direct person. I really can’t see you dosing people with poison or cold-heartedly shooting a target from a rooftop.”

She posted her hands on her hips and gave me a death glare. “My current scores are seventy-two in Escape Vector and sixty-nine in Hit Vector. And for your information, I have a firm grip on poison types and proportions. Now, what is the role I’m aiming for called?”

“I’m not sure if you should become a Mastlok Nel. You would have a much easier career if you just went with Silent Heart. It would cut down on the classes you need and give you free time for other things besides studying. Plus, you won’t have to kill people. That’s a major positive in my book.” I explained, trying to dissuade her.

“Brother.” she said in warning.

I raised my hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. It’s your choice. But if you really want to know what that role is called, it’s a Red Shadow.”

She visibly relaxed and gave me a smile in thanks. “That’s better. Now, the next question, what kind of Mastlok are you?”

I internally cursed a storm as I tried to think of a way out. “Well, Thallos had me memorize type two roles, but not type three yet.” I looked away as I scratched the back of my head in open embarrassment to try to throw her off the scent. “He just keeps telling me that I’m a Hunter, whatever that means. His answers to those questions are about as clear as sewer water.”

“Ugh!” she groaned in clear annoyance. “Can you at least tell us your Vector scores?”

I bit my lip before giving in. “I have fifty-two Martial Vector, Eighty-six Craft Vector, and zero Spell Vector.” I lowered my head in shame and to hide that I wasn’t telling them the complete story. Thallos would send me out every few days to collect Vector points, and he would order the type I was supposed to collect for that ‘session’, as he called it. He would watch my attempts to pick fights with other students and fight or flee. He would give me clear targets for the Hit Vector points, and he would only count points I accrued if I got the designated target as well. I had the best luck with the Craft Vector because Thallos made a game of throwing theoretical problems at me and seeing if I could craft something to solve the issue. For the Craft Vector, he would give me the points if the gadget or tool worked. I didn’t need to use them on anyone. But my Spell Vector score…

“What’s with the zero?” Ferris beat Nel to the question.

This time, the look of shame was not false. “I have yet to cast another spell.” 

“Why not?” Nel pressed. 

My lips curled in like I tasted something bitter before I spat out. “I can’t figure out how to take in myst, let alone project the same stuff.”

“Well, what are you trying?” Ferris asked. “My cousin is a wizard and tried to explain some of what she had learned when she lived with me and my mother. So I might be of some help.”

“The Zenwel Mystagogues have had me try to visualize seemingly everything. I’ve tried envisioning a vacuum pull from my palms, taking in moats of light. I’ve tried envisioning tentacles from my palms, sapping energy out of random surfaces. I’ve tried thinking of it as fish and mentally casting a net. Or drawing smoke in through my eyes or my third eye, which still makes no sense to me. There are dozens more things I’ve tried. They say that it’s all about how I visualize it and feel it. But it doesn’t help that they look at me like some science experiment. I’m not a student of theirs. Hells, I’m not even a person to them. I’m a strange mystery that they want to unravel, even if it means making me drink random potions and dousing me in chemicals. They’ve poked and prodded me, scanned me with every device imaginable, and taken, I don’t want to think of how much blood for tests.”

“Wow.” Nel muttered, “That’s pretty messed up. Like as mad as Kassidan’s parade, kind of messed up.”

“Yeah.” I agreed with bitter venom. “And that’s where I’m heading next. I don’t know what they’re planning on doing to me today.”

“Well, let’s start with seeing if we can help you draw myst first.” Ferris interjected. “Your magic is based around your blood, right? Like a Blood Letter?”

“Kinda.” I huffed in frustration, waving my arms in the sign of giving up. “From what I understand, my blood is both the focus and the price instead of the elemental cost, like for other casters. So when a Sorcerer gives up a portion of their body heat when you use fire magic, I just use my blood. I also am not limited to the elements of the Blood Letter class.”

“But it’s still blood-based casting. Have you thought about visualizing something along the same vein?”

I shot him a glare for the terrible pun, but he seemed totally oblivious to the offhand joke he made.

“What are you thinking?” Nel asked.

Ferris lowered his gaze to the group as we walked and gestured in the air before him like he was thinking about an advanced math problem. “Like what if he pictures his veins taking the myst into his body, or maybe veins stretching through the ground from his feet and taking it in like tree roots?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” I was skeptical of anything working at this point.

“Well, it’s about time for class, so try it out and let me know how it turns out.” Ferris said with a wave as he made his way to his own class, Nel trailing behind. I gave them both a half-hearted wave as I made my way to the Zenwels’ laboratory. I was not looking forward to this.

********************

“Good morning, young student.” Came Patrisha as she stood over a large glass tank of some clear-green fluid, looking over a clipboard. Her brother, Lucas was setting up a series of devices around the tank, turning them on and tuning their settings.

The room was thick with the pungent scent of something acrid and the rising smell of ozone that grew stronger with each passing moment.

I will continue to refer to them as snowflakes. Snowflake A is Lucas and Snowflake B is Patrisha, just like before.

“Good, good. You are even early.” Snowflake A said with an amused smirk.

“Now hop to.” Snowflake B said as he clapped his hands twice to emphasize the demand.

“We need you to strip.” Snowflake A

“And get into the Solivasion fluid tank.” Snowflake B off-handedly gestured to the massive glass tank while she flipped through pages on her clipboard.

“Can I ask why?” Even as I asked this, I began to strip, having given up on fighting them.

“Simple,” Snowflake A stated.

“We are going to test your Formulaic Myst Activation Pull Sequence. This will tell us if you’re a Solidum caster or a Theurgic caster.” Snowflake B explained.

“If the latter is the case, then the reason for your inability to draw upon ambient myst is because you need to pull from a deific entity.” Snowflake A continued.

By this point, I had stripped down to my underwear. “Can you simplify that statement for me?”

Lucas, or Snowflake A, walked up to me with a handful of wireless sensors he was about to mount to me when he paused, eyeing me up and down. I looked down to see what had caught his attention.

My skin pattern had drastically shifted from the beginning of the year. Where once my skin had been an olive-bronze tan laced with threads and webs of pale white, now a new pattern had been stretched out over my once well-known body. Scars tracked my skin. Slashes and whirls of scars raised in hills and dipped in small valleys. Scars over my tan skin were a lighter shade than the skin around them, and where they passed through the white threads, the tissue went from an alabaster white to the white of a phantom. I guess from a certain perspective, the scars could look akin to tiger stripes or some sort of tribal designs.

“What, pray-tell, is the cause of all this?” The Elf asked as he gestured to my body.

I shrugged. “I’m sorry, Mystagogue. I guess I’m not particularly talented at my training.”

“These are all from your training? Stupid child, If you are in this bad of tatters in only your first year, then I don’t foresee you seeing your training through.”

I felt ashamed of the scars that I had thought would have been commonplace to students in my position. Then I remembered Thallos had said that I was being trained for his role, not the standard Dark Hunter or Mastlok. I guess that stab training was not standard in the Order. I thought to myself that I’d best keep this under wraps. A ghost only whispers if seen, after all.

“Enough brother. Don’t over-worry about the subject. So long as it- I mean, he is at least somewhat whole and capable of magic, that is all we need. Now, prep the measurement nodes. And you, Darkling, off with undergarments as well.” Patrisha said offhandedly as she stepped down from beside the vat, still mulling over her checklist. 

I did as told and tried not to feel embarrassed even as Lucas stuck the nodes about my person. Circular and flat devices with adhesive on one side. The devices were mounted on either of my temples, atop my third eye, over my heart and lungs, on my biceps and triceps, on my forearms and backs of my hands, at my shoulder blades and base of my skull, atop my abdomen, on the inside of my thighs, and outside of my caffs, and even the tops of my feet and tip of my tail.

After I was covered in the devices, Lucas led me to the stairs beside the tank of mystery fluid and instructed me to get in. I stuck a toe in and quickly pulled it out when the fluid made my skin tingle everywhere it touched. I turned back to the male Mystagogue. “What is this stuff?” I asked.

Without looking up, Patrisha answered in a bland monotone. “It’s a cocktail of liquid oxygen, Consinderon, Magilucum, Fersoma, and refined and concentrated liquid myst.”

“That helped me not a bit.” I said with a light huff. “What does it do?”

This time, they both answered in the creepy way of continuing each other’s statements. “The cocktail does many things.” came Snowflake A.

“It will allow you to breathe freely while submerged,” said Snowflake B.

“It will also infuse your person,” Snowflake A said.

“Which we need to elicit a reaction.”

“If you are a Solidim Mage type, the fluid will react with a positive charge,”

“Turning red. But if you are a Theurgic Mage,”

“That means that your native Mystwell has a D-type channel or Divine compared to the natural channel or N-type channel.”

“And so the reaction will be of a negative charge,”

“Turning blue.”

I gazed speculatively at the fluid, not at all relishing the thought of breathing it into my lungs. I turned back to Lucas. “You’re sure about this?”

“Without a doubt.” he said, “Now enough postponing.” Without another word, he unceremoniously pushed me into the vat. I felt flat against the shimmering green surface, barely having enough time to reflexively cry out in panic. I landed face first, my arm pinwheeling as I desperately tried to get my bearings and turn over. The thick, viscous substance coated me, seeping into every pore and climbing up my nostrils to invade my sinuses. The concoction was thicker than water, but I couldn’t get traction to turn over even as my limbs flailed. Every inch of my skin tingled with pricking pins and needles. My sinuses burned as the almost-gel clawed its way through them. I only figured out which way was up by opening my eyes in the stuff. My eyes and my sinuses stinging and burning. I got my feet under me and pushed myself to the surface. As my face broke from the body of liquid, I gasped for air, my lungs clawing just as hard for air as the substance clawed through my sinus cavity.

I had only just gotten a taste of the sweet air before I heard Lucas say, “No, no, we can’t have that.” Just before I felt a hand clutch my face and shove me down, back under.

I struggled against the hand, thrashing as I fought to gain even another mouthful of air. Then, as quick as it came, the hand vanished. Pushing off the floor again lept again to breach the surface. I gasped a great lung full of air even as a shadow slipped over me. I looked up and could only just make out what I soon realized was a lid. A cap to seal the tank. I fell back under with my eyes squeezed shut. The lid closed, locking me in. I felt the shudder as the cap latched down. I lept again, throwing my shoulder against the block. The only result was me bouncing off the surface with no effect. I forced my eyes open as I turned my attention to the glass wall. My fists pounded against the thick glass. I saw two vaguely sapient shapes beyond the glass, no doubt the Elves.

As I thumped futility against the wall, I saw them moving behind it. Suddenly, a sheet of paper was pressed against the glass. It simply read ‘Breathe’. I fought, lungs screaming in my chest for me to take a breath. Soon, my strikes grew weak, and my vision blurred and darkened around the edges. My thoughts grew fuzzy, and I wondered, ‘Why am I even bothering? If I die, so what?’. It was then I just gave in. My lips parted, and my mouth filled, tingling. The sensation flowed down my throat, and as it reached my lungs, I gagged and tried to cough even as I thrashed, limbs spasming.

Then, suddenly, everything normalized. My vision snapped back into focus, and my mind cleared. Breathing the fluid was no different from breathing air if stranger feeling. I shook my head, only then realizing that I had fallen to my knees. I pulled myself from knee to foot, breathing slow and deep as I adapted to the strange tingling that was now spreading through my body within it. There was another sheet of paper against the glass wall. It read, ‘Try drawing myst. Repeat any visualization that felt close to a result’.

What Ferris said earlier came to mind, and I thought of trying it. So I looked at my inner forearms, tracing the veins with my eyes. I felt my heartbeat and visualized the throbbing veins in time with the pounding. The next step came to mind, and I imagined the ambient myst, particles floating around me like dust, glowing a vibrant red. I mentally pulled the radiant particles towards my veins and pulled them through my veins into my core. I felt this alien sensation, a feeling of something inside me filling like a glass of water. What filled was not anything like an organ or physical vessel. It was an accumulating concentration into what I can only describe as my soul. Power gathered in the very fiber of what made me who I was. I finally understood what was meant to happen, and I pulled harder, the moats of dust filling into a layer of static covering everything and filling everything. Before I logically knew that everything was comprised of myst, but now I saw. The geometric structures of the energy forming the glass wall and metal in varying densities, the slowing loose body of the particles that made up the liquid in the vessel. I drew upon the power harder and harder, spreading my focus to include veins like roots spreading from my feet to draw straight from the earth below. I took and took and took, drinking it in like a man parched with thirst. I was dimly aware that my vision had shifted from green to purple. But I took little note of the change with how enraptured I was with this change in my person.

When I could take no more, I decided I was going to test the reverse. I bit into the webbing of flesh between my right thumb and forefinger till I drew blood, the thin, spreading cloud of red brimming with power. I wanted to use fire but thought better of it since I was in a vat of chemicals that may or may not have been flammable. So I went with the next best thing. From my inner reservoir, my well of power, I drew upon Fire Myst and decided to infuse it with Air Myst. The spreading crimson cloud sparked, releasing a crackle of static that I felt more than heard. The sparks grew into glaring red arcs of eclectic power. I felt a wicked grin split my lips, and I pushed more power into the space. The arcs magnified and lashed out around the tank like wild crimson vipers. The power struck the boundaries of the tank with enough force to crack the glass, but I failed to notice how large the cloud of blood was growing. Before I could think about what I was doing with any rational mind, the lightning amplified beyond what the tank could hold. All at once, the wall shattered with a violent force. Glass and purple gel-like fluid pushed out in a massive wave, striking everything nearby. It washed me out from the tank to lie splayed on my back. I coughed and gagged as my body rejected the fluid in my lungs.

Once I was breathing genuine air again, I clambered to my feet to look around. The measuring devices were all covered in a layer of fast-congealing purple slime, each and every one shorted out, but whether by slime or electricity would remain a mystery. The Zenwel Mystagogues lay on their own backs, slimed and soaked. As one, they sat up almost mechanically. In the same fluid motion, they both removed their masks and tried in vain to clean them of slime, instead only spreading the goo and smearing it across their monocles.

I raised my hand to inspect it. The still weeping wound brimmed with barely confined power. A ruby spark lept from the wound at the very thought of wielding that power again. I looked up from the wound to see that both of the Mystagogues were standing and rushing about the room in erratic patterns. One moment, one of them would try to salvage equipment or papers from the layer of purple. The next, they would read over what notes or readings they could find, as if searching for something. 

“Brother, the readings?” Asked Patrisha as she looked over some strange, arcane apparatus.

“All accounted for sister, up to till the surge. And these readings are astounding.” Lucas answered as he pulled up a series of charts and numeric tables on a holo screen at the corner desk.

“I agree completely. The apparatuses I set up for ratio divergence and deific bond monitoring have readings that leave me questioning.”

“Umm.” I started. “That’s great and all, Mystagogues, but… What does purple mean?” I asked as I tried to cover my nudity. I was feeling shame and embarrassment for not restraining myself and making such a mess.

The twins looked up from their readings, looked at each other for a long moment before looking at me, and as one, they answered, “We don’t know.”