AuthorLeftright
patreon
Chapter 19: Madness
🕑 Added 2022-12-19 06:50:02 +0000 UTC“So it’s really been a year?” Dan asked, slumped against the prison that was Sully’s cell.
Sully’s upper half lay bound in pure white light, like a troupe of spiders wrapping the ultimate feast. “Indeed.”
“I don’t understand anymore,” the frail human laughed at this. “Not like I ever understood anything.”
Dan brought his knees to his chest and tucked his head between his legs. He wanted to be small, he wanted to be nothing more than an ant in that moment. That way, the giants around him would simply ignore him.
“The Void,” Sully said like the name of the place was answer enough.
The old man was dejected. More than dejected. His tone was irate and quick, both aspects he lacked previously. Sully was at his end, physically and mentally, he was a curious captured mouse that gnawed off his own leg. He had lost a magical duel, and was set to suffer for the remainder of his days.
Dan reacted to his bitterness the only way he knew, by repeating that he was sorry. He had left Sully for an entire year, letting him waste away with half a body. Forget failing to kill the high priest, forget the pain the vile man caused. Dan left Sully alone, and the guilt was eating him.
He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to proceed. It had been sixteen months in this hellish world and Dan still didn’t know how to move forward. Not without his friend, at least.
With dark thoughts on his mind, Dan declared something to himself. No matter how long it took, no matter how much pain it caused him, he would kill the high priest and his congregation. But to do that he would need as much power as he could get. His time in the Void had processed his magic in ways still unfounded to the human.
While his magic was sealed, Dan could still feel his core. It was weak and condensed, like a squeezed orange. Sooner or later, whether it be from ripening, mold, or rot, the peel of the orange would rupture, releasing all of the delectable juices inside. But how would he go about the volume of juice without the high priest noticing the bulging seal?
Deciding to ask Sully, Dan spoke with a shaky voice, “How do core seals work? Maybe the correct term is lock?”
Sully twisted his neck perpendicular from staring at the ceiling. His old graying eyes locked with Dan’s chest and the faintest white glow appeared in the center of his irises. He hummed out a grunt, then a sigh.
“You can’t remove it if that is what you are asking. Not at your current strength, at least. Weaken it, sure, but fully remove it, no.”
Dan frowned. “How do I go about weakening it?”
Sully closed his tired eyes. “Did they draw a spiral on you with ash when you first arrived? Much the same way as that one, seals degrade over time.”
“And even with it weakened I won’t be able to remove it?”
“It is possible but incredibly unlikely. Let me clarify. You will be able to remove it once you overpower it, but that will never happen. The high priest will simply refresh it sooner or later. It is hopeless.”
Dan frowned at his friend’s tone, only feeling guilt. He was about to respond, but Sully’s wrinkled hand stopped him.
“Dan, I am glad that you are back and in good health. But I wish to be alone, please leave.”
The human stared at the elderly alien monster man for a long moment. He traced the dried spittle along Sully’s fading skin and dried lips. “I see, good night then.”
Trying not to fall apart along the dark, but short walk to his cell, Dan didn’t know what to do. It had become a recurring problem for the young man. He wasn’t tired, he wasn’t hungry. He wanted to probe his core, but he didn’t want to be alone either.
A voice rippled through the darkness of the prison, originating from the cell that was once his. A man had taken over his living quarters during his absence, it seemed, leaving Dan homeless. That for some reason irked him to the point where he almost busted down the metal door and dragged the intruder out.
But Dan was able to recognize the intrusive dark thought. It was the madness, yet again. Now, after evolving his mind, he was able to see the influence. Tendrils of black and red sloshed against the walls and floor, growing like weeds or dripping like sweat. They drifted closer to him, trying to latch onto his body in almost robotic ways.
It was instinct, Dan realized. The madness was nothing actively seeking out harm. It was not a sadist’s sick push of power. It was not only trying to make his life worse. The madness was like him and Sully. It was just looking for a way to survive, to latch on and feed.
Dan’s mood instantly brightened at this. For some reason he felt small, very small. He was just a person trying to survive, much like those in the camp or working in the mine. Much like the madness, much like the cultists. He felt insignificant, but that gave him assurance. He was no different than everyone else, why was he so afraid then?
Was it because Sully was dying? Yes, of course. Was it because he was being held against his will? Again, yes. But the longer he thought about it, the more he felt his eyes open. Everyone was just trying to survive, there was no reason to be afraid of those around him. The high priest notwithstanding.
Did the appearance of the other slaves upset him? Yes, very much so. But why was that? He had been living in the camp for four months before his vacation to the Void. During that time, only once did someone actively try to hurt him. Bully him into working? Sure, but that was child’s play to attempted murder.
No one was out to get him, not even the high priest for what it was worth. Dan’s sacrifice was inevitable, if the cult’s leader was to be believed, but that didn’t scare him much. Why was that exactly? Frankly he didn’t believe it was going to happen.
How could potential death not be as scary as the encampment’s residents? Dan thought, looking through the peephole of the metal cell door to his old room. The man inside was hideous and incorrect. From his elongated arms and legs, shortened torso, and shrunken head, the man’s appearance sent a shiver down Dan’s back.
As he turned away, he saw movement. The madness tendrils had lunged, latching onto him the moment he looked into the cell. Dan easily knocked them away, finding the churning in his stomach stopped. He paused, then looked back into the room.
The tendrils dove for Dan’s skin again, biting into him like staving mosquitoes. Severing the connection, he tried something else. Instead of looking at the man, he thought about him. The madness made a break for his fear, connecting to him nearly instantly.
Oh, Dan realized.
His evolved cognition slotted in the missing piece of the puzzle. Dan did not find death scary, not even with the possibility of him being sacrificed. If he had a dagger in his chest, sure, he’d be scared. But until that moment, death was not on the forefront of his mind.
The alien appearances of the people in the camp were a different story, however. Most of them didn’t make sense to Dan. Some tugged reality as they walked, others had conjoined bodies, but most simply didn’t look human. And that scared him, the unfamiliarity. And the madness amplified the insecurity.
Dan scoffed at the realization. Is it ironic that death is what grounds me? he wondered.
He pondered the question for a moment before the door to the cell swung open.
“You lost?” the man asked.
Dan forced himself to look the man in the eye, swatting away the madness tendrils as he did so. They extended back to him almost instantly, ignorant of the severed tips.
“N-no,” he replied, giving up on getting rid of all of the madness. “This used to be my old room. I just don’t know where to go now.”
The man tilted his incredibly small head. “Room was empty when I got here. I haven’t seen you around.”
Dan noted the man’s words were slurred a bit, like he was still learning the language. “I was… out of reach for a while.” It was then he realized the man was favoring his left leg. “Are you hurt?”
“Barrel fell onto me, yes,” the man quickly added. “I am in perfect health, however. I can still work.”
Frowning, Dan shook his head. “I can heal you. Stand still.”
Gold came to life sending the man spiraling to the back of his cell. He plastered himself flat against the stone wall, his eyes wide and fear along his jelly-like legs.
“Oh! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!” Dan exclaimed, sending the orb of light away. “I’m a healer, not a cultist. It’s my job here.”
The man, like a child expecting punishment, looked away. “Are you going to kill me? I’ll give you the room back, just don’t kill me, please. Please.”
Dan recoiled. Shaking his head, the orb of light flattened into a disk and rushed into the room. It quickly exploded into golden sparkles while knitting a tendon back together.
“I don’t mean anyone any harm. You included. Have a good night,” the human said, backing into the darkness of the prison’s hallways.
The man watched his benefactor go, pushing plenty of weight into his ruined leg. There was no pain, none at all. His eyes widened just as quickly as his legs moved.
“There is an empty cell in the third hallway from the entrance, about halfway down!” the man yelled, leaning into the darkness.
Dan turned back, the tendrils of madness making an effort to multiply his darkest thoughts. It was a trap, he thought. But he was able to tell what was fabricated at this point, the madness being crushed by the weight of his response.
“Alright, thanks.”
Finding the room, he was somewhat surprised that it was slightly bigger. Not by much, but now Dan could lie down without having to bend his knees. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to, however, he had long grown accustomed to sleeping in a fetal position. Still, the small reprieve in his life was welcome. Anything to take his mind off the real problems he faced.
He couldn’t sleep, the thought of resting felt like a lead weight pressed against his chest. Every time he thought about Sully, his heart faltered for a beat or two. Sitting around or giving the old man space was not what he wanted to do. He wanted to help him, to heal his wounds. But he couldn’t and that starved his slumber.
If he couldn’t help Sully, who else could he help? The old man had made it his goal to help those weaker in the chain of slaves. Whether it was healing those in need or destroying the rats that plagued the mines, Sully had touched plenty of lives.
Now that Dan understood the madness, at least somewhat, he understood that his role around the camp would grow. Without Sully, he would have to get over his addictive fears and take over the position of slave healer.
He leaned back, his neck resting against the contour of the stone walls. As he thought about it, healing the wounded would prove fruitful in more ways than one. Dan had to progress his light core despite the seal. Having people to constantly heal would aid in that regard. But that got him thinking about his blood core.
He was under no delusion that his second core would get him sacrificed early, or down right murdered, but still, it was a tool he desperately needed. Sealed light magic just wouldn’t cut it, so he took a risk and touched upon his secondary core. A flutter of images came to mind, explaining Blood: Bestow.
It was dark but Dan was able to clearly recall himself. He watched on like a ghost watching their own death. His body was struggling under the force of something unseen. He fought to move, but failed with normal means. That was, until blood pooled to the top most layer of skin. Steam rose off his previously cool body, drifting away into the Void. But he moved, he broke free.
Dan understood, Blood: Bestow let him control his blood. It sickened him somewhat, the remembrance of the blood beasts from so long ago on the rig. He smiled somewhat, although his eyes only described pure spite. Those monsters were the last things he wanted to think about… but they were his best chance.
Grimacing, Dan forced himself to recall. They were once men, but had morphed into something new. Tar and blood poured from their bodies like spilt buckets of pain. The liquids fused around them, creating an armor like a dark red trench coat. Then there was the feeling of being trapped.
Dan remembered it well, it was the first time his mind ever broke. Every ounce of his blood boiled when he saw the monsters, his mind bent at the sudden pressure, and he wanted nothing more than to submit.
He didn’t like that.
The blood beast magic was broken easily, by someone without any knowledge of cores, magic, monsters, or hidden government organizations. Dan didn’t want to replicate that, he felt he owed George more than that. The poor government worker was a daily afterthought at most by this point, his death, while grim and an omen, didn’t hold as much weight anymore.
His breath shuddered as the gray stone came back. George was a difficult subject for Dan. On one hand, they hardly knew each other. On the other, Dan felt responsible. If he had not pushed the man into the lifeboat, Lambert’s claw wouldn’t have decapitated him.
I’m so sorry, George, Dan thought, removing his focus from his blood core. I’ll get out of here, and bring the cavalry. I swear to you, Bob, as well. This place will burn.
Taking the moment, he then inspected the seal on his light core. It was chained up tight, causing a dull pain to form when he tried to filter magic through it. He tried multiple ways to increase the speed at which the seal degraded. He bulged his magic in quick bursts, an exercise that only made his nose bleed. He gently inflated his core, which put strain on the chain but didn’t produce any meaningful results.
Finally, Dan touched upon his second core at the same time. The feeling sucked the energy out of him, returning him to a wobbly mess. His veins were sore, like the direction of his blood flow had been momentarily reversed. Groaning, a golden light came to life in his palm and after a gentle massage, he tried again.
It was subtle, but Dan felt something snap. Upon closer inspection, a single link to a single chain had a single frayed thread. The chains were not metal, rope, or real, they were magical constructs forged by a powerful magus. They were void black and coursing with vile segments, but they had weaknesses like anything else.
The aggressive feedback of combining both of his cores nearly made Dan fall unconscious, but the second attempt was somewhat easier to push through. That wasn’t quite true, he knew. If anything the headache and bruised veins were worse, but having a clear picture to progress toward was nice. Returning his light core would be agonizing, however that didn’t damper his attitude.
He smiled as the pain of a drowning tide rolled through his body.
Hours went by as Dan continued to break and reform himself. Blood magic was destructive and starving, he learned. Slowly, he picked up the faint nuances of Blood: Bestow. Most importantly, he discovered that his blood needed to be outside of his body, otherwise pain was to be expected.
Good thing my core is inside me, he thought with a roll of his eyes.
There were ways to circumvent the misery, however, at least somewhat. Blood flowed in a singular direction with each pump of the heart. Arteries and valves worked with the design, opening and allowing the pressure a way out into the rest of the body. Dan just had to match the flow, like walking with an escalator rather than against.
Still, blood magic made him cold, very cold. Something he found rather ironic since light magic was the exact opposite. It became a balancing act, one that Dan teetered on for the entire unsealing session. Toward the end he found himself able to last longer, however. But there was only so much he could take at one time, even though the healing from his light core was a godsend.
As Dan stretched his stiff back and ventured out of the prison and to the camp, he checked his progress. The single frayed thread had turned into a small bushel. That got him thinking, what was the best way to hide his progress from the high priest? He wanted it to look as though the seal was degrading naturally, and a single carved spot would surely do the opposite.
Guess I’m going to have to saw all over, he thought with a shudder. He could see it now, painful night after painful night.
Deciding that was for future Dan to deal with, he looked around the camp for obvious, yet hidden, injuries. As he did so, he protected himself the best he could from the tendrils of madness. There were too many, however, and so he chose to simply try to ignore them.
Swallowing the fear he now knew to be artificial, it was time to become useful.
