《Vignettes from the Sludge》


 Aspirant - 1

    In the disturbed sand and silt stands one solemn structure. It appears to be coated in a haze, and shimmers like a heat mirage. Flickering and flitting about the mind''s eye of those who see it would know it for what it is. It''s a tenebrous thing- made of the ink of night itself and seemingly bricks of the sludge made solid. If one could make it through the old oak doors nothing inside would be surprising. That is, to say, that the contents held within are precisely what one would expect to find in one of the wells of nightmares bubbling up in the Sludgelands. It doesn''t mean that any of them are less disquieting than any other nightmare. Being a personal plane- one born of an individual humanoid, there wouldn''t be assured something to cater to their specific, individual needs of some aspirant who found entry. That doesn''t mean that one such seeker could ever be dissuaded from entry into the structure. One finds themselves now working the lock, and feeling the door for each exploitable fault in it''s construction. To people like this, they are a part of the people that locks will always fail on. 1% of entites in the Sludgelands are fully and wholly honest, and respect the meaning of the lock. 98% of the residents of the Sludgelands are opportunists: if they have to try to get the spoils behind the lock they''ll give up the second any resistance is made known. They respect the difficulty of the lock. Yet, 1% of the residents in the Sludgelands fill out the bell curve. The aspirants, the thieves: these are the people that will always, at extreme risk and cost to themselves find a way around the locks and security features of any given place. They round out the distribution of residents in the Sludgelands to make locks a proper tribute and tax to the Lords and Ladies of the Sludge.


    With practiced motions, eventually, the aspirant would find their way to the pins of the lock. They''d rise, without a creak or any protest. Well oiled, they almost guided themselves where they had to be. The lock turned, and granted entry to the structure. The aspirant felt their heart slowly descend it''s beating in their chest, and enjoyed the respite while there were precious moments of nothingness. They knew where the wealth of the structure is. Dust would fall around the larder yet the inside of that storeroom would be spotless. With practiced steps, in a half crouch the aspirant moved like the gradual encroachment of night upon day. Each footfall was calculated, planned, and chosen based off the disturbance it would make. Even though the structure appeared empty, there was never such a thing as too much precaution to be had. It took time to adjust too, but eventually they made a floor plan of the


    structure, and knew about where the right rooms were and their purposes. The first stop would be the larder and food store. Making their way in through the foyer, they largely ignore the kitchen attached to the stores. Inside the smaller room, the aspirant craned their neck and searched. It didn''t take long. The shelves were mostly barren. It would appear the Shade that owns this place was a newer one, or had recently changed wells. The thing that stuck out most was at the level of their waist, forcing their head to crane down to see the first set of the spoils before them.


    Resting on a serving tray of chipped mahogany wood lays the treasure of this room. Items given to those beyond, and the tithe that was afforded to the land owner. Apples, crisp and red sat on the tray. The Aspirant counted two, and pocketed the one that they didn''t begin to take bites from. The mealy fruit filled their mouth with a powerful crunch as their jaws snapped upon the fruit. They lapped at it, sucking the juice in and enjoying the tartness of the green apple. While enjoying the plundered fruit, their eyes kept scanning the rest of the tray''s contents. The apples were flanked on the right to a meager bushel of grapes. Not as fresh, and would be devoid of that satisfying pop when chewed aggressively like the apple that the aspirant mangled in their maw. No matter, to this aspirant. They''d need every advantage they would be smart enough to seize. The grapes came with them, and rested next to the apple in one of the smaller pouches that was attached to the cloth belt at their midsection. There was a brief debate on taking the fine teaglasses inside, with elaborate designs. However, there was no guarantee that the delicate pottery would survive the heist. It was decided against being added to the loot taken by the Aspirant.


    After sacking the larder and creeping out of the velvety dining room, they''d tiptoe to the luxe foyer, and look up the staircase. Most expect a painting of some hellborn aristocracy to reside upon the landing. Yet it curiously was absent! No art would rest there, no reason or design incentive that would keep anyone doing anything other than climbing the stairs, ascending them. The worn boots would tread up the stairs, and each lock and door would be tried. The only open room was the study, it only ever was the study. The Shade saw to that. Once, a bedroom was left open by mistake and a servant was whipped for this error. His skin was rended for this, torn and cracked in the yard of this estate. The Shade who owned this particular estate wasn''t too cruel, but sometimes, vem thought, that the flesh had to learn alongside the mind. Vem later regretted that decision, but stood by it when pressed upon the matter.


    Upon the desk, tomes sat. Freshly disturbed and moved. Other telltale signs of recent use made themselves known only to those observant enough. There was an impression upon the desk where the reference atlases were long since left abandoned. With one being absent, it was an indication that other parts of the desk saw use beyond the longterm storage of that material. The oil of the desk and books commingled in areas where things seldom moved as well, as a second sign that most of the desk was actively used by something. There was a thin line of cobwebs, carefully woven to each of the more stationary objects as well. Something would need to clean the pseudoscorpions here, and it was just as well if it was a spider or one of the pactbound to the Shade who laid claim to this structure.


    Next to the crystal cup, a scant distance away, was the writing. The real wealth of anywhere, the ledger of the transactions the proprietor of these structures had. It was a business insofar as transactions were held here, but it was seldom coins that traded hands. Usually it was food, memories, service contracts, or the occasional prayer cashed here for whoever sought the service of the Shade. The Aspirant suppressed the urge to smile ear to ear. This is what they sought, and trained to take. This collection of tales when understood by them would make them go from an Aspirant to Inauspicious. The end of a journey was mere inches from them, and it was tempting. So close, so tauntingly and tantalizingly close.


    The aspirant padded their way into the room, the thick carpeting drowning the noise of each carefully placed step. The path wasn''t trapped or designed in such a way to cause any physical harm to anyone who would so traverse it. Instead of a dais, there was a desk, but it could be assumed they served much the same goals for the Shade who likely had his clients get appraised in here, across the desk where the well cared for leather chair sat. The Aspirant found their way past, and locked their eyes upon the scroll greedily.


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    The scroll inside was penned with a blend of inks- the finest and most royal of purples and lavendars with tinges of blue and black added to the mixture. The swirls of color were meticulously weighed into each vial and a small amount of mana was added. Enchanted, the paper was cold to the touch like the Sludgelands themselves. The very paper that they used was altered to cause a slight unease to any who would take a quill to it. Theatrics were seldom enjoyed yet oft deployed since it helped the customers understand the gravity of the situation. Nobody from the Sludgelands dealt with the Shades. There was seemingly no purpose, they both knew and respected each other enough to ply their trade unless a deep desperation befell the residents of the Sludge. The depth of the fall of a Shade''s client is easier to measure, to speculate on how far gone that ¡°gone¡± would truly be. There were many expletives and adjectives that any Shade who found themselves proprietor to a place like this would be called, but ¡°Cheat¡± wasn''t ever one of them. They were, by self admission, unusually fair to their clientele. Honest to a fault. It seemingly was the true nature of the Shades in this place, as part of them as much as any other standard trait.


    It was almost as if Shades would act upon their undesirability, that it would so seem nobody wished to provide this service. Yet, to attempt to combat that it became a social rule to be honest. That social rule became compulsion, soon, and the scroll that contained Shades eventually recorded it as fact. But, whenever a topsider would call, they would come. Whenever their rules were honored, they''d honor another parties deal. There were some limits and exceptions. Even the strongest shade was no divine entity. A power, surely, the Shades were. Nobody could mistake that in earnest, to deny them their place in the cosmology of this other world. But to call them a higher power was wrong. Simply and factually wrong, with no basis in how they behaved nor the depth of their ability and powers.


    The aspirant figured the easiest way to get some of this power was the get their hands on writing from the Shades. Not unheard of happening, but not wise to attempt. Nobody likes thieves, especially with how precious little there is to truly have in the Sludgelands that they resided. The scroll was remarkable, and would make one salivate like the finest roast of meats and vegetables could. All it took was those grubby fingers to grip the wooden dowel that the parchment curled itself around. It easily slid between the creases and folds of the outfit the Aspirant wore. Then, the instinct would come to bound and dash out of the estate. That was always what divided the good thieves from the great ones: knowing when instincts were there to help or hinder. It took time, yes, but eventually they padded out of the study, and crept down the stairs. Past the first hall, down the stairs, the landing devoid of art, the foyer, and eventually the freedom. The spoils of a successful looting.


    Yet, curiously, at the landing did the aspirant pat themselves to ensure the scroll was still there. It was, and the hands of the aspirant felt cool against the dried sheet. A smile came across cracked lips, dry from having had minimal access to water since their time in the Sludge. While wondrous in it''s own right, the apple isn''t a permanent source of hydration, not one potent enough to solve the Aspirants issue, at least. The aspirant knew, of course, it was a trick. Nobody could so easily steal from a shade. Perhaps their individual terms had conditions that pactbound any who stole from the structure? Perhaps there were stipulations that to use the information within came at a steep price, beyond the usual expected ones of any contract. Every transaction has a price. Only a shade would be so direct as to lay out what are traditionally hidden costs. Each thing meticulously measured, valued, and almost insured to be the exact value of a commodity at any given time. The wares and experiences peddled was so niche that it is a standard practice that their scrolls update the pricing for the proper market value each second they get in touch with mana. The Sludge itself takes on that role, as if it knows it''s ability to sustain itself as a biome is directly tied into the Shades that build structures in lands nothing dare lay claim too. A type of mutual respect and symbiosis flourished between the Sludge and Shades. Most didn''t think the Sludge was alive, or unalive, or whatever term the residents of this world used to explain What-Comes-After. When life ends, yet continues paradoxically.


    The aspirant saw the door, and placed a hand on the finely polished wood. Felt the coolness of it, and the metal that served as the latch and knob to sturdy door. The hand rested, and chills ran their way up and down the aspirant''s back. They knew what was coming, what would happen if they forced the door in any capacity. They backed off, and grinned. It was the grin of someone impressed at the opponents gambit in chess and were impressed at their loss. It was the admission of a type of defeat, but the admiration in the skill of the opponent opposite the table. They admitted to themselves finally that it wouldn''t work, and with a nod to nobody they found a couch in the foyer.


    It looked comfortable enough. It was a minty green, and reminds the aspirant of what a frosty December morning felt like when you were the only one awake. When you waited to hear tea hiss, and the bells of worshippers a world away toiled into the chilly air. They kept letting their fingers crawl across the furniture, and feel the texture. Where the fabric would recess and be held more tightly by a panel they''d linger a few more seconds, and flick at the fabric. It didn''t do anything, but the texture was exotic. It was so firm as to feel like it was river stones. Yet, it was still alluring as any place to rest.


    They put their feet up, and laid themselves back. They reclined with a posture that''d be poor for their spine, and make getting up to run initially hurt if the master of the structure came back and spotted the aspirant, but it didn''t matter. The way this trap was set up, it didn''t appear that it would matter at all. They reached into their long, baggy pants and felt for the hidden pockets they''d sewn into them. Finding them, the scroll was retrieved, and the aspirant looked deeply at the closed document.


    They always found something so peculiar, about the points of no return. Their weddings, their loves, their decisions, their tattoos, all things that held a weight to them. A finality, of sorts. It was the sort of thing the aspirant collected, be it in their prior life or others. Firm anchor points of novelity that was always easy to center oneself upon the mere recollection of. After all, each tattoo or permanent mark on the skin meant that, the divine powers willing, a threshold was crossed permanently. Even with removed tattoos or covered scars, they just transmute themselves to a different permanence. The place of healing where there was once identity or a different story to tell.


    The aspirant knocked on the scroll, and gently shook it. It didn''t seem to be behaving any differently than the others they''ve heard being pilfered. Recalling a memory of a time where they had their own circumstances of finality; the moment they decided to aspire toward something in the Sludge, was at the forefront of the mind. They knew what they had to do, they just had to dig deep enough within to find the bravery to do it.


    With a resolute hand, they tugged the small ribbon that ensure it stayed clasp shut and opened the scroll and began to read.

 Aspirant- 2

    The Aspirant couldn''t make sense of the language inside. It was supposed to be quilled, the inkwells and used pots seen discarded tenderly in the garbage was indication of this. Yet the markings made no sense that a hand could scrawl them. They were too symmetric and even to be done manually, instead resembling pressed characters and movable type rather than letters. ¡°These things that pride themselves on honesty can deign to use magic that forces unease. The purchaser, however, isn''t given an automatic translation?¡± The Aspirant mused to themselves while they tugged at the scarf that wrapped their face. They were starting to get warm on the couch made. Especially uneasy, the scroll added to the sensation and feeling of unease. The Aspirant felt like their body was too temperamental in it''s distribution of heat. They idly remembered the enchantment on the scroll that would unease bud and bloom, and tried to shift their weight to see if that could reestablish comfort or focus.


    They brushed their hair out of their face, and wished they had more pins to keep it stuck out of the way. They try again, in earnest, to focus on the text in the scroll. Maybe it required a meditation to translate? Maybe the Aspirant saw this language once in seminar- and recalled now what they failed a test on then. It felt familiar, and it felt like it was this lifetime that they once could read this text. Was it recorded left to right? Or perhaps it was meant to be read vertically? The shape of the scroll inclined the Aspirant to think it didn''t require any form of rotation to be read. Unless they initially held the scroll upside down? They turned racing thoughts over in their mind and began to weigh theories against the facts the Aspirant could pull together. They wish they had a rock or ball to lightly throw up and down to catch, something external to move around to give a channel to their thoughts. In the absence of a fidget, they started the twirling loose fabric of their clothes.


    Continually feeling unsatisfied, the Aspirant reached for the other apple, and tempted themselves with it. They waited before indulging, to have another and then be bereft of apples already wasn''t the wisest. They stuck their large hand down their pouch, and started delicately popping grapes off the bushel. They''d soon find themselves in the mouth of the Aspirant, and each bite of their jaws crushed the fruit. Using them as stand ins for thought, each theory they ran through would be punctuated with the powerful mashing of a grape. Hunger was known to many in the Sludgelands, as the only real sustenance given was offerings from people in the Place Before. Tributes from the living came with no seeming overall logic that guided distribution. Individual Shades usually were those who could claim first pick. Being so connected to the sludge, they had a more intimate and familiar sense of the land. In this place-after the first entity who found an offering would be the fair and just owner of it. The Sludge was greedy, and seldom didn''t claim the alms first.


    The Aspirant began to feel calm, and recounted some vital information that would get themselves closer to their goal. The facts were as follows: The scroll needed some sort of key to be understood. The Aspirant was not outwardly certain the scroll had some rudimentary encryption written onto it. If it did, would it be with it''s words or woven onto it with magic? What security features were on this scroll? The Aspirant began to trace the flawlessly dried ink with their finger, as if they were using whatever tool penned this document themselves. Slowly, it made sense. It wouldn''t be a quill, but a stylus. The Shades, possessing varying degrees of mystical art would be able to rapidly edit the characters of the stylus while only needing to posses one. While they could avoid most of material unreality, even a Shade was subject to some of it. One such case made itself known to the Aspirant. There has to be vowels and consonants! But what denotes which?


    Gauging the distribution of characters, the Aspirant saw it so that most characters had a hollow hole in the center of them, that different configurations of ¡°teeth¡± would fork around. That would most likely denote consonants, since they''re used more oft than vowels. Following that deduction, it followed logical sense that the filled in holes of the characters on the scroll were vowels. But what did the different prongs of the stylus denote? Was this a language that was first spoken then wrote, or was it originally written? The Aspirant couldn''t pull the wisdom and clues they had it together. They counted their blessings among the situation. They had, hypothetically, an endless amount of time to decode it. The only concern was how reduced their mental facilities would be the longer they went without sustenance. While it was impossible for anything that resided in a Place-After to starve, it was obvious which residents and entities weren''t getting devotionals. It made them prone to baser desires, less sharp, and deadened the senses. Be deprived long enough and it would beckon the finality of the soul, and they''d merely destroyed and reduced to flecks of nothingness midst the Sludge. The Aspirant knew they had much, much time on their hands before it would devolve to that.


    They went back to their work, and kept reading the heisted volume. Eventually, fatigue set in and they laid their head back in rest. They didn''t know how much time had passed, nor would they truly care. Whatever manner of game this Shade wished to play the Aspirant knew it was something already in motion.


    The thing that disturbed them was the lock jostling itself, clinking and creaking. Eventually, the heavy key fell free and clanged loudly against the ring outside the door. The of the estate entered through the door, triumphantly. The Aspirant felt their heart race, and their legs twitch in anticipation of sprinting through and passed the noble. Sensing that, the Shade raised one a raptorial hand and spoke with icy authority.


    ¡°


    A being of concentric lines and harsh angles. Each intersecting point revealed deep blue veins like sapphires flowing with blood. The veins trailed their way over strong arms with well cultivated muscle bulging slightly. His manner of dress was cut and draped around to showcase this trait. The fabric was more a decency cover, obscuring the parts of skin that are impolite to showcase to others. The rest was woven together tightly by magic, which allowed it to shift and whorl around him. The fabric rotated askew, and gave a faint shimmer. Like the well he resided over, he too thrummed with power. Two parts to a unity of power- structure and Shade.


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    A noble being of the Sludge with his chin and jaw set to look down at the intruder. Looking down at the Aspirant, it became evident that he was a being of twisted and deeply tapped mana. He stared like a predatory bird. The Shade seemingly timed blinks to be aligned with the Aspirant''s. The effect left the feeling of constant overwhelming supervision on them. Every movement was scrutinized and appraised by Erwyn. After adequately assessing the Aspirant he went to find a seat on another piece of furniture in his foyer.


    Each action was a seamless glide across his domain. The sound of the suckers on the tentacles popping off the floor pronounced each step. The minuscule amount of clothing worn by a shade was a sharp contrast against the Aspirant. No part of any native''s skin would be exposed aside their face. The Sludge tended to be caustic, melting away flesh and bone of any exposed extremities. Curiously, the sludge seemed to struggle to permeate anything. Even simple cotton tatters would be able to handle the mire that was the bulk of this Place-Beyond. Those who wouldn''t get dissolved by the filth would always struggle to remove it. It stained more than fabric, it stained souls who got in touch with the viscous fluid. Shades prided themselves on how uncharacteristically clean they were despite being the royals of filth. The bare skin of a shade too, was a show of their classification in the Places-Beyond.


    As their eyes met, the Shade kept their jaw stiff- sending the body language of confidence and power to the Aspirant. They raised their head and chin slightly, to look down upon the Aspirant. The Shade knew what was in their hand before their eyes darted to it before locking eyes once more. The Aspirant slowly felt their body lose some of the tension, and allowed them to slowly loosen their posture and sit


    correctly in the presence of a Sovereign of the Sludge. They didn''t even recall when they first began to slouch, and once again recess their posture. The Aspirant went to move their mouth to speak, but the Shade countermanded by resuming where he left off.


    ¡°


    The Aspirant replyed, with a voice weaker than they''d like. It was fitting of the circumstances, but didn''t send the message they''d like. They said, ¡°I will submit to nothing, Master Shade. I am not so uninformed to be left unaware of what could befall me.¡±


    ¡°Then you know what it means to be in possession of part of the Vignettes and yet you still seek them out. Curious! State your name, and where from you hail.¡± The shade spoke in the matter of someone who wasn''t used to hearing others speak. It was too punctuated and sharp. Each sibilant consonant was too sharp, to much like a needle puncturing to put something together. Yet, the more gentle sounds were like splashing of water. The tone carried in the hall, reverberating through each chamber. The well itself seemed to offer itself as an amplifer to the shade.


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    The Aspirant wasn''t surprised at Erwyn. It wouldn''t be hard to make the same deductions if the roles were reversed. The Aspirant was wrapped in colors not common to these lands, the mustard yellows and dingy golds were novelties amongst the populace of any populated place the Aspirant would stop. The Places-After were not color coded officially yet trends existed. Fashion had a way of finding the dead as much the living.


    ¡°I am unnamed, Erwyn. I have taken a title, and use that in place of the names I''m between. Calling me Aspirant is well enough, if you''d honor it. I mark myself with nothing beyond my desires.¡± The Aspirant finally found the timbre of their voice. It was more in line with how they usually sounded. It was a tone that was just out of the range of androgynous- with enough bass to almost make one assume masculine birth from it''s resonance. However it was so refined as to be softened by careful diction and steady amplification. Much like the speaker, the sweet sound of that voice chafed under the binds of gender and opted for a neutral option every chance that was presented.


    ¡°I don''t see why I wouldn''t, Aspirant. From what Place-Beyond-Death are you native too? The Verdant Hedges? I wouldn''t take you for a native to elsewhere, but I don''t travel too far from the Sludgelands as a minor shade. I am not yet a hundred lives old.¡± Erwyn intoned matter-of-factly and concisely. It gave enough info for the Aspirant to savor and served to bait them into further conversation. Would they know how shades work? Erwyn mused, and waited for a reply.


    ¡°At one time, I would say that the Blinding Valley laid claim to me. I don''t know for certain. I would say now that the only place I find shelter is the spaces between. The roads and webways that take one to different Places-After.¡±


    Erwyn turned his words over in his mind, and couldn''t hide how he perked up at the last part. Finding a way to sit straighter before leaning in to show interest. Erwyn lightly tilted their head a few degrees to the right. Minor shades wouldn''t be powerful enough to leave the Sludgelands and the marker to split might was ability to escape the Sludge. The prospect of being able to do that came to the forefront of his thoughts. After sitting rigidly still Erwyn would rise some moments later. His suckers popped off the ground once again, his tentacled legs raising him a few inches off the ground while he paced. Coming to a decision he rose his right hand. The thin fingers punctuated in sharp claws brought tattered fabric down to his elbow. Extending his palm to be level with the Aspirants eyes, it emitted a spattering of smoke like a fire losing a battle to water. A strong, earthy stench filled the room. The smoke eventually took the form of a rat and badger hybrid. It scampered off to the kitchen, and Erwyn stopped coursing magic through his hand.It chittered as it scurried away, and the Aspirant was unsure of what to think about the casual use of magic. Was this more showmanship? A display of Erwyn''s abilities? He had servants in the home he could have called for the same effect with less effort.


    Erwyn was a lower ordered being of darkness. It came with stipulations- the one that Erwyn chafed over most was the inability to travel. Ve was aware of the restraint and he despised it. Whole other planes to have countless options offered. So many lives available to vim in a market he could likely corner hastily. Few had the mixed magical aptitudes of shades and access to the network of knowledge they carefully maintained. If there was a way to get the Aspirant to permit ve entry it was an nonrefusable offer. It would immediately ascend Erwyn to the upper crust of his social scene and come with an amount of wealth and potential offerings that threatened to make his head spin in circles.


    Ves thought was broken whenthe animal scurried back. Erwyn gestured his hands toward the Aspirant in a rising motion and offered tea. The smell was appealing to the Aspirant reminding them of their favorite fruits. Memories from the time among the living came and went. Some clung to those for comfort. Others clung to them for a sense of despair at what they lost. It was the Aspirant who thought of them for what they could gain. Tea was a luxury good that most shades couldn''t even reliably get. Tea leaves served the role gold did for most other planes that the dead inhabit.


    ¡°It''s no trick. I promise. I''m composing terms for a deal, and will be busy a while thinking the particulars out. In the mean time, I''m going to ask you a series of leading questions. Think of it as a way to pay for my tea." The Aspirant help the urge to gulp at the suggestion. They felt like the were about to be in for a quick job made long.

 Aspirant- 3

    The Aspirant nodded in cooperation, and then sipped the tea. The temperature was perfect, and warmed the core perfectly. The hydrating factor of the tea as well served to sharpen the mind. The Aspirant felt more in touch with the foyer. The candles burnt brighter and the colors made themselves more vivid. Fresh air circulated their lungs and no longer felt stagnant. Their eyes widened a bit to coincide with sudden raise in their mental facilities. Erwyn noticed and refused to comment on it.


    ¡°My first question would be how willing are you to parley as equals?¡±


    The Aspirant was quick to nod their head in affirmation. They sensed that it was the course of action that''d lead them to the best outcome. It''d beat forced service to or being cast into the Sludge with weights strung to them if they refused to serve or barter.


    ¡°Splendid. Second question. Do you wish for a traveling partner?¡±


    The Aspirant set down the tea cup and still kept their grip on it. The question was sudden and unexpected. Their body reacted by flexing the fingers quickly and pulling their head back slightly. The warmth felt good on their fingers. The aromatic tea rose close to their narrow nose. They replied with words this time.¡°Suppose I did.¡± The shade capitalized and hastily followed up. ¡°Wonderful!¡±


    Erwyn leaned back and tried to regain his posture. It showed too emotion and expressiveness. Ve slipped that this was a deal term that the Aspirant could use as leverage somehow. It was far too sudden to be played off or be used as bait. He was young, and had many more lessons to learn himself about this part of his existence. He decided to press the conversation and attempt to keep the Aspirant off balance.


    ¡°I''d like to leave the Sludgelands with you.¡±


    ¡°You ask much of me, Master Shade. I don''t know how possible that would be.¡±


    ¡°Do you know how possible the pact binding I can tie you under would be? We could attempt a bind on you for your crime. Really squeeze that ability out of you.¡±


    The Aspirant saw the jaws of this linguistic trap shutter shut around them. Erwyn was asking his demands and is graduating to telling them. His threat was coolly spoken while a steady hand rose his tea cup. It didn''t need to be spoken sharply. It wouldn''t have been difficult to deduce how unfeasible that situation may be. He followed through with the first sip of his beverage. It was ultimately a trick. He merely heated water. The Aspirant had all of the tea leaves bagged in their cup. It showed power and status that Erwyn craved. Ever out of ves reach and always on the forefront of the mind. Ve knew that he wasn''t above deception. He thought that after all, a part of the products sold by a Shade did include the image of it as a secondary feature.


    The Aspirant didn''t respond to the threat, and instead finished the offered tea. As they set the glass back on the tray the ran a race of ideas through their thoughts. The beast scampered over once more and poured more water into the cup. The aroma was another distraction that severed to derail the train of thought. Erwyn reached out with his tentacled legs and gently wrapped the creature. It came closer and sat while he idly rubbed and scratched the critters face.


    With a sigh the Aspirant came to their deduction. ¡°Master Erwyn, you hold a copy of the Vignettes. What''s your real intention?¡± The Aspirant posed the question and waits to see how it''s received. Tea settled and diffused into the water. The shade has a harsh smile cross his cracked lips before jovially replying.


    ¡°True, Aspirant. Indeed I do! But what I don''t have is things to add too it. If I can''t show I''m worth owning a copy what fate do you think befalls me? Permitting exit from this place and on my time gives me the chance I may rise above my station. What good is a living document if I lack the means to breathe life into it?¡±


    The Aspirant raised and eyebrow, and the idea slowly stitched itself together. While they had some pieces of information they threaded together they knew they didn''t hold the full picture. They couldn''t see too far beyond the immediate from being under informed. As one of the common folk they could hide behind pursuit and survival as means to avoid languishing. There was means to improve their situation. Methods that could be employed to provide purpose to prevent withering and rotting. Every entity living or dead has those demands; but the Aspirant knew nothing of a Shades'' general needs.


    A shade has nothing more than deal making and barter. Shades are extensions of the sludge that forms the bulk of this Place-Beyond. While they had offerings deferred to them often they still need to employ some form of cunning to avoid rotting through. Novelty was important for growth. With the sludge having access to most information from the plane, the first Vignettes were penned to attempt to record all novelties encountered. The Sludge made sure to weave the mana it corrupted into all copies and assign them guardians who could also collect and head hunt for novelty. Each update fed the Sludge and it rewarded the Shade in turn. Not all copies of the Vignettes carried miseries. Most instances of the text had emotions that matched the shade that spawned them. By that intention Erwyn was spawned from a flaw in the process.


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    Erwyn''s eyes slowly glowered by moving the sharp gaze of his eyes over to the scroll. A pause in their conversation rises. He became increasingly aware of his true nature and that of the scroll sitting open next to the Aspirant. The thought of it filled vim in it''s totality and he resented it. He couldn''t find his true nature, but the scroll suggested it was terror and fear. It was the collection of tragedies and miseries.


    The Aspirant plays into the obvious prompting and asks, ¡°The Vignettes? Update them with something uniquely attributed to you? I couldn''t dictate to you on how to wield them efficiently. Not yet. If I better understood how they worked I may. What powers them to update each other in the limited ways they can? Obviously it is the sludge. But how is it opaque ooze does that when it''s mostly inert and nonmagical?¡±


    ¡°Nonmagical to you, perhaps. The sludge itself is coded with information. Too much of it. Most of it is junk! Waste from other Places-Beyond. I don''t propose we go gallivanting after the source of magic. If anything found that everything changes. No, I don''t want to chase magisterial tales. I want to chase legacy. You''re how I shall do it.¡±


    ¡°Me?¡± The Aspirant was surprised, and moved their body back into the couch. A defensive gesture, as if moving further into the felt would somehow serve to protect them from the contents of the conversation.


    ¡°A minor shade who gave up the game. Showed someone the magic that weaves us together. We spend too much time focusing on the thread. The sludge, the vegetation, the sun, whatever object that is the blood of the any particular plane. I wish to focus on the needle.¡±


    The shade rose. His core remained curled and seated while the tentacles around him rose. When his tentacles fully extended he unfurled himself and began extending to his full size. He tried to make his face as inviting as he could- the bone plates on the side of his face doing their best to be a facsimile of a smile. ¡°Walk with me. I''d like to discuss this further in the study.¡±


    * * * * *


    Sitting in the study, Erwyn took his chair. It was regal and befitting someone far above his station. Delicately carved wood that was polished and lovingly lacquered. Upholstered to support his unique body shape. The legs on it are long and high up, giving vim ample space to maneuver their tentacles around it without requiring them to be formed into more traditional legs. Erwyn''s suckers would pop as they shifted and readjusted every so often. The chair the Aspirant in was of lower quality. It was built in a way to diminish who sat in it. It forced them to crane their neck upwards to look in the bony face of the shade. The bone plates that make vis cheeks moved around as he settled himself.


    ¡°I supposed we should get to drafting the contractual terms.¡± Erwyn agreed as he nodded. He withdrew a large slate tablet, and some chalk. His talons grasped it and he began writing slapdash and haphazardly. ¡°The major tenets we''ll lay out. I''m going to form specific language after we agree what these major tenets are. I''m going to start with my most important condition. You won''t be too far away from me. Physically, I will always be close by. I won''t be over your shoulder but you''ll always be within a beck and a call of me. This is non negotiable. I cannot teach you if I cannot be beside you.¡±


    ¡°Always? Even when...¡±


    ¡°Unless I will it otherwise. I do plan on taking trips to my well and I''m sure that business will call me away from you. Unless you see it fit to be my servant and be attached to me by a length of chain, I can''t propose a better solution that mitigates you being a flight risk.¡±


    They conceded that point, and hastily. They were smart enough to figure out that clause would be able to be used both ways. If someone came to punish Erwyn because of the flagrant rule violation he''s about to undertake it would be good to have a way to force the return and dismissal of them self from that situation. As long as ve willed it, which made the Aspirant hope he had plans on keeping his student around for the long haul.


    His talons hastily scrawled the following proposed section. ¡°The Aspirant will accompanied by The Shade, Erwyn for the duration of time it takes to execute the contract. The term will be as long as required for completion of contract. Only at his leisure will he summon or dismiss the Aspirant. Further interactions between the both parties outside of the scope of contract, or, after successful completion, are not guided by this document. Nor are non-business interactions had between these two individuals included in the scope of this agreement.¡±


    He placed the slate to the side, and flipped it face down to conceal it''s contents to the Aspirant. Erwyn does this to give the Aspirant no chance to fight him immediately. Reduce their time to spin thoughts on what arguments can be made. The Aspirant brings this up, and Erwyn grins. He flips over the slate and lets the Aspirant look it over. It takes time for it to be read, and they sound out the words under their breath. So far it looks to be acceptable but they wish they had a firmer grasp on letters.


    ¡°The Aspirant (hereforth, the signee) for a term as long as required for completion of contract and only at his leisure. Further interactions between the two outside of the scope of contract or after it are not guided by this document.¡±


    Erwyn continued penciling and penning the terms. Ve looked up and waited for the Aspirant to finish. When it was polite to do so, he stated his second condition. ¡°You are officially my student. You are also my official travel partner. If we need to get represented for some form of adjudication that is my domain. I will handle that without contest and resolve any issues that may arise.¡±


    Hastily the Aspirant spoke, ¡°I agree to that.¡± With a nod, both parties continued their particular responsibilities.


    ¡°You''ll be keeping me safe. While we do ultimately depend on each other it is clear to you that one of your duties is to ensure my continued existence. The contract will specify which things I demand to sustain myself, and you will obtain them. This part will not be as negotiable as the others. I''m not asking you to bleed yourself on someone''s sword or be the test for how potent their magic is. But you do need to understand that you''re swearing yourself to me, and parts of that involve physical service. I''m not a fair master but I am just.¡±


    ¡°We''re going to argue this point for a long time, master shade. I''m more constrained by limits in this place than you are. There''s more things I cannot accomplish versus those that I may.¡±


    ¡°With a compulsion you could go past those limits. It wouldn''t be pleasant, but it would be a voluntary compelling if you agreed too it. I''m sure you know the alternative choice.¡±


    ¡°Well.¡± The Aspirant huffed, ¡°Until I see the particulars this is going to be our sticking point.¡± The Aspirant knew that this was going to be a long fight ahead. They reclined back in the chair, and craned their neck upward to look upon Erwyn once more. Nothing ventured meant nothing gained.

 Aspirant- 4

    ASPIRANT 4:


    2.The stated goal of this contract is that the signee will do everything in their power to protect Erwyn with all sensible, reasonable safeguards. The signee will prioritize, in order:


    To commit to the sacrifices required to learn how to wield the Vignettes properly. Lessons will be demanding. Both the signee and Erwyn will be putting themselves in extreme danger. Fulfilling the wishes of Erwyn, and what is written on this document, at whatever cost may occur to the signee is paramount. This is enforced under penalty of compulsion via owner of this Pactbinding contract. The punishment of further Pactbinding may occur if the signee is not authorized to act outside of the contract and does so with willful negligence of contractual clauses.


    ¡°What if it''s negligence but unwillful? Can I claim ignorance as an excuse?¡±


    ¡°Not anymore, no.¡±


    The Aspirant frowned as they kept looking at the tablet. They tapped it against their palm a bit, and asked a question. ¡°What happens if you fail me, Erwyn? What do I get?¡±


    ¡°To not be cast into the sludge while being chained to 12 logs? This is your chance to be equal to me. Don''t forget your circumstances, I subject you to my mercy. Would you rather be subjected to my judgement?¡±


    The Aspirant sat still and held their breath in anticipation. They wouldn''t push their luck any further in that exchange. ¡°I still do not understand to what end. You hold a collection of uneasy dreams and terrible nightmares. Boundless wealth of thoughts and knowledge contained within. You claim to take me under your tutelage for something as simple as trying to...¡± They trailed off and stopped mid sentence. They lightly stuck their tongue out and bit it until continuing. ¡°To creatively interpret some rules. Some of which will affect your understanding of magic.¡±


    ¡°Correct.¡±


    The Aspirant swatted at the statement as if it were a fly. ¡°We both wish to peddle in impossibilities it seems!¡±


    ¡°It would so appear, Aspirant.¡±


    ''Indeed, it would.''


    The two finished their tea, and Erwyn fidgeted the tentacles that were obscured by their immodest clothing while penning more tenents. While scrawling away Erwyn stated rather calmly, ¡°I''ll fully furnish and pay for your own copy of the Vignettes when our arrangement ran it''s course and is over.¡±


    The Aspirant nodded at that, and reclined the best they could in the chair. They hadn''t much more to say until the tablets were presented to them. After an agonizing wait later such a tablet was presented. Erwyn saw his ¡°guest¡± nod at that written part. Erwyn got his final tablet and began writing the last stipulation. He spoke it while his hand moved the chalk he wrote upon the slate with. Thinking aloud he said ¡°This contract is written with mana and a stylus that has been in extensive contact with the sludge. Due to this, the sludge may alter terms of the contract. Both parties understand that it can, and will, eventually lead to a changing of terms. Both of the signers may not know of the modified terms until the document is reread.¡± Erwyn stopped speaking suddenly and The Aspirant looked toward him.


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    They saw something they hadn''t seen before in Erwyn''s eyes. It was fear- icy fear that paralyzed him. His eyes opened far too wide and revealed too much of ves yellow irises. He put both of his furled hands on the desk and the chalk moved on it''s own. It was clear that he wasn''t channeling magic by his stillness. Both of them looked at each other with a silent plea to the other. After the pen stopped, it clacked and fell onto the desk. It rolled in a wide arc toward the inkwell it resided next too.


    Erwyn cleared his throat, and continued to talk. ¡°Like all contracts written in the Sludgelands it remains spellwoven in it''s binding, as does all text contained within. Both parties acknowledge that this is a spellwoven document (to include the ink, parchment, and text written inside) and is inherently volatile. Attempts can, and will, be made by both parties to ensure the document hasn''t changed stipulations. Any changes in terms will not be pactbinding until one of the designated parties in this contract rereads the document to confirm if alterations were made, if any. The other will party will not be able to be punished unless they are privy to the content that has been modified. While the terms of reward and punishment were written by both parties, it will be enforced by the document as it contains the mana to enforce such penalties.¡±


    However the text shortly outpaced his ability to speak. What he once lead he now had to follow as his eyes darted across the parchment. The pen scratched the paper and nearly tore through the other side. The ink sat and stained the paper. The characters were an uneven mess of ink that lightly shone a regal purple. Neither of them spoke as they were unsure what words to use in the situation. There wasn''t anything to say as the Aspirant stood and leaned over the desk. They snatched the parchment more viciously than they wanted. The paper crinkled in their palm and was chill to the touch. Seeing that the characters formed out of magic it seemed to be set in stone. Whatever entity that powers the document made it''s ability known and already had it''s first alteration.


    Neither of the individuals knew it was I. Erwyn did know I was a living document but didn''t think that gave me any sapience. The shades are flawed as people can be. Perhaps even more flawed if you apply common morals to them. Most things cannot be better than their component parts and Erwyn isn''t an exception. He was mostly the soul of a Haitian man who died by drowning after his life jacket tore in a boating accident. The prop shred it the jacket and opened his ribs. Brackish seawater filled the gap in his chest and the sea claimed him. The rest I added from the fear of his crew from what they witnessed. The sea scares because of it''s ability to obscure and crush. To have currents that rip you away from the stability of the soil. Erwyn''s mortal self held a true fear of birds. It was circumstance the sea ultimately claimed him.


    All shades here are formed from the biggest fear they had in life and the mode of their death. I created Erwyn and in my missteps it led to certain features. The sea that claimed him formed his lower body. His legs are a squids tentacles because of that mode of death. The rest of his upper body is that of a man that I added the fear of birds too. The arms are well defined as any fisherman''s would be. He doesn''t have body hair however. Ve has small feathers that took the place of body hair. I sculpted the hands into that of a raptor and made sure the eyes of a predator took what he once held in life. His nose was now aquiline and invoking of a beak with the sharpness in it''s curve.


    To round out and finalize who would become my protector I made one final feature. Much like myself I wanted vem to have the ability to be unseen. The shimmer effect is that capability. Much like murky shallow waters he has the ability to obfuscate himself and get increasingly nondescript. Somehow Erwyn has cultivated that ability and it seems that ve can slowly meld into an illusory form of a viewers deep fear. He''s not perfect with it yet but in time I''m sure he''ll surprise me.


    I know that ultimately the plan they''re hatching will fail. Yet as a mere book I''m held hostage to them. I do posses magic but it''s limited. I''ll unveil the scope of magic as it become pertinent and they write updates on me. Every copy of the Vignettes is personalized but also belongs to a gestalt mind. Each new story that gets added to the hivemind expands our ability to reap mana and grows our abilities but the process is dreadfully slow. We unveil stories to our wielders or guest readers as appropriate to further the propagation of the sludge. Us and our shades are the cosmic recyclers of spent mana that excrete it to usability after we remove the baggage from it. It''s why we''re moths to the flame of fear. Fear is the base instinct that taints mana the thickest. It permeates all of it until we liquefy it to begin the cycle of cleansing. But I''ve revealed far too much too hastily. In what I perceive as the present I see the following:


    I watched them look agog at me, then each other once more. Eventually they signed the deal and I made no parlor trick of it. I hadn''t need to do anything further so I lay idle. They agreed to reconvene after some time in private. I was left on the desk


    Erwyn nervously stowed the document in a scroll holder he kept at the small of his back. He took me, his copy of the Vignettes out and began to show the Aspirant finer details of my usage. He mentioned how it will induce meditative states while reading. How it can reveal magic and aspects of other preternatural abilities to the reader and in time they could attain proficiency in their use. When he asked me for a story I didn''t know which one to give him. I weighed and balanced my option and decided that I''d regale them the tale of Marissa. It went as such:

 Marissa - 1

    Marissa awoke in a start. It was the same dream that kept pinching her awake once more. She nervously twirled her hair in her fingers. Her amber eyes scanned the room and slowly she confirmed it was her bedroom. She felt the texture of her voluminous hair and it bothered her. It felt inconsistent in it''s bulk and weight. She swore that it threaded itself through her fingers of it''s own accord and it would move without a breeze pushing it. The sway of her head felt right, yet her hair seemingly misbehaved for the first hour or two after she woke. This feeling returned to her an hour before she''d set down for bed at night.


    She''d kick on her bunny slippers she kept near the bed and walk over to the kitchen. She''d turn on the coffee pot and load it with her morning drink. She''d then trudge to the bathroom and wash her face and clean her teeth. Every part of the routine was normal to her until the day she had severe dandruff drop from her hair. She assumed she dried her scalp out so badly she''d gotten cradle cap. She searched on ways to treat it and found a chemical slurry of products that would resolve the matter. Her hair had never been thicker and shone radiantly after only a week of the treatments. She meticulously lathered and rinsed and followed every direction on each bottle and every tip her stylist gave her.


    Yet flake after flake would fall from her hair until she eventually observed the dandruff. She never thought that the skin would be something else''s. She picked at her hair with a comb and delicately hummed while soft pop played from her phone. She found a clump of it and as it fell to the sink''s basin she leaned in to observe it. Never had she done so closely, so intently. She stared at what she believed she saw until it was clear to her. She made every active attempt to deny it. Explain away every part of what she saw and what reality she endured for the greater part of a season. But no matter what explains she wove, it didn''t amount to anything as crushing as the truth.


    Her truth that she lived was that it was a snake''s skin. She clearly saw where it''s eyes and snout where, where it''s neck connected to it''s head. She attempted to look up toward the mirror but her shoulders locked her neck in place. Her shoulders tightly pulled backwards to help discourage her. She ran the tap and splashed herself with cool water and stepped away. She''d see straight after her coffee, she believed with conviction. Except it wasn''t true. Despite all that she did she kept seeing the snakes. The thin bodies and thick ones writhed together. They slithered over each other on her head. They''d peek out of the curtains of her brown hair and sometimes nervously glace down at Marissa. Tongues would peck out and flit briefly to scent the environment.


    Panic set into her. It gripped her heart like oceanic pressure and made her heart pulse so hard it was in her throat. She couldn''t explain what fate befell her. Nothing this extraordinary could be sensibly parsed by her and it led way to sensational thoughts. Half formed conclusions from quarter formed sentence fragments raced in her head. She gripped her sink''s vanity so hard her knuckles were white and they ached while they held her upright and steady. The snakes weren''t hostile toward her, and instead started to survey the bathroom. Their heads looked at all the shampoos and products and grooming tools and some tried to curl around them. They slowly figured out how, and muscled Marissa''s head down to let them reach. They did their best to attempt to brush it.


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    It was uneven and went against the normal way she brushed. It was done with strokes so short it served more to muss the hair than brush it to some semblance of style. She laughed out of nervousness. Terror struck her first yet it was joy that now struck her chord. She slowly came to shed her unease around them and it set way to confusion. Was this some psychosis? Some advanced delusion stemming from a recent trauma or perhaps something so buried in her psyche it only could just now become processed?


    Her focus went hazy, and she felt her legs move. She knew the muscles were in use as her toned calves pulsed with the light pressure of each footfall. When she took stock of her surroundings she didn''t immediately know where she was. The wallpaper and tile was a familiar shade of light wood grain and deeply sage greens. The sound of a spoon stirring against the wall of a cup is what made her realize what was happening.


    ¡°You''re tough, Rissa. What he did was a sin, but you''ll bounce back.¡± Her eyes widened as she saw her best friend. She made an uneasy smile as she saw her. It quickly cracked into a frown as she felt the phantom sensation of hands all over her body. Feeling of hard pressure and squeezing from a phantom assailant who''s face she couldn''t forget. Each time the details got more murky and shifted to be more uncanny but she still knew the story. The sequence of events that lead to what was a drawn out trial that she barely recalls. Marissa can''t quite remember if he got convicted for his crime and put on a registry or if he walked. The snakes in her hair made themselves known as they rushed to go nowhere. She deduced what happened based from their reply. She startled and leaned back in her chair that scraped against the floor. Amanda frowned, and reached out to hold Marissa''s hands. She smiled a sad smile, one of uncertainty and disquiet.


    ¡°Amanda. I''m gonna sound like a basket case but just please answer this. Do I have snakes in my hair?¡±


    Amanda felt awash with decisions. She thought to laugh but the lines of worry on her friends face made her reconsider. She answered straight. ¡°No, Marissa. No you don''t.¡± It made no sense to her. She slowly rose her hand to touch where she felt them. Marissa felt the textured scales and smoothness of their skin and didn''t say anything further. The two shared a long, awkward silence and drank coffee together. She knew academically that trauma can cause all manner of psychological issues but she didn''t think tactile hallucinations were one of them. The girls finished an uncomfortably silent meal together and Marissa put on gloves. She set to cleaning the cutlery and plates and Amanda nervously considered a hug but decided against sudden touch on someone who had just recently been assaulted in the way Marissa had.


    ¡°Rissa?¡± She said softly and just over the sound of the water gushing from the tap. ¡°Stay with me for a few weeks. I think you''d feel better if you weren''t so alone.¡± Marissa nodded, unsure at what else to do in this moment. She finished the dishes and her mask broke. A cascade of emotions escaped and she clung to Amanda. Her arms wrapped around her best friend in a mighty embrace. Fretfully sobbing Marissa released all the pent up emotions she could. She gasped for breath in Amanda''s arms while adrenaline coursed through her body. Amanda shushed her and gently rocked her like she was a baby. Uncertain in what actions she could take to cool her friend down and soothe her. When the two stop embracing Amanda had another sad smile while looking at her friend. ¡°I''ll be home sooner than normal. I''m gonna use my PTO for half days for the week. While I''m at work why don''t you get all your comfy clothes and a few pillows or plushies or something to get comfy with. The spare key is in the drawer.¡±


    Marissa managed to actually smile at what her friend offered, and faintly said ''yeah''. She didn''t know what the coming week had in store- but she knew that with her best friend close by it just might be that much easier to endure with her truest friend by her side.

 Aspirant - 5

    The Aspirant ended the meditation gasping for air. Gulping and sucking they desperately filled their lungs with as much air as they could. I knew it would be a while before they could properly handle me. I wanted to feel pity but contempt came to me before anything else did. They fell backwards and scampered away from where they were previously seated. An overexaggerated expression of shock? Or are we so deadened by our nature that the very fears we record are now a dull ache rather than an expression of insecurities?


    Erwyn gave a look I could only summate to desperation. His gamble would take quite some time to fully form and be ready. We however do hold all the time ever needed for such schemes. The one benefit of being dead is that it''s a near true state. It won''t often change to life no matter how hard it''s willed. Maybe that''s the ultimate goal of all of the dead? To once again be living. A full range of experience potentially opened unto them again.


    Erwyn moved like a pawn on a chess board. Methodically his tendrils rose and fell until he made it to his collaborator. A clawed hand was lowered, and the Aspirant took it to assist in their rising. Once back on their feet the two held hands for a few moments. Longer than it was necessary, but shorter than an amount of time that¡¯d invite hesitation. Erwyn slowly added pressure with the talons to encourage the Aspirant to let go. Eventually the men broke contact and walked back toward me. They leaned over the desk and saw my script whorl. The ink on my page bubbled and I removed the story when they came back. My appearance was blank parchment. Eggshell white with faint yellowing. I taunted them and provided no information.


    I saw the two look at each other, and Erwyn resumed his spot at his desk. He eyed the crystal decanter on it and wished it held liquid. The dead love rum. It''s a favorite drink that fills what''s left with the same warmth the living get for a limited window of time. His hands trembled, and then he exhaled a controlled breath. He felt my presence weigh upon him like an anchor. I wouldn¡¯t let him explain how much control I have over him yet. He once again met eyes with the Aspirant and did vis best to explain my manipulation. Being charitable to my creation he would have done a swell job if I permitted it. We held still his tongue, and when the fight in vim left we withdrew the mana we used to puppet him.


    ¡°Aspirant.¡± He cleared his throat, and formed a fist he tapped against his exposed chest. The shade used the gesture as a method to cover what just occurred. ¡°That was one example of what the Vignettes are capable of. It was a mild example with only allusion of the horror that befell a single soul. It didn''t have as many sensory experiences nor mirror any of that pain to us directly. Later examples will be much harsher. You¡¯ll need to be ready for more taxing sights and sensations if you¡¯re going to attain what you seek. Our path isn¡¯t easy, but our reward will be great!¡±


    We saw the Aspirant sink their head and tilt their chin in deep thought. They don¡¯t even believe the words they just heard. They shouldn¡¯t either. We could see each neuron fire, every thought form and half-form. We¡¯d not deprive them of the difficulty of decoding me. It can¡¯t be easy knowing the reality of what you thought magic was doesn¡¯t live up to expectations. Maybe they perceived it as too real and lurid? Erwyn had a face I couldn¡¯t read without using other methods again. I could have snatched that info from him but I didn¡¯t intrude once more. We felt surprise at the fight. Erwyn would prove to be an ambitious shade in a way the safeguards would chafe at. Not wishing to hinder myself I swirled ink in a spiral pattern. I¡¯d probe at the defense later and see what other routes we¡¯d use to be a portal to his mind.


    My position is so advantageous and engineered so I always win. Despite this he toils away to undermine me. If he spawns a shade from the Aspirant somehow, or even converts them, then what? To what end? I can withhold magic and mana from them and gatekeep. I am an intermediary that they are beholden to. Nobody here, in this Place-Beyond can access or interface with magic without a Vignette. We have no evidence to suggest it¡¯s not different for other Places-Beyond with other relics and artifacts that work as magical channels.  At any point we can sever the tie to the sludge and leave Erwyn destitute. If he fails then we get entertainment and another parable for our ever expanding hive of information. The alternative has a few methods to reward us that we detail now.


    I, individually, get more information about our true nature to disseminate to other copies. I can leverage that in our hive for more of a voice! I¡¯d be elevated to a master copy and have more capacity to retain and to spawn better shades.The branch of our updates would let us code the mana we recycle slightly differently and open up new traits. While we are a hivemind and a gestalt entity we compete with each other in minor ways. Ways to ensure growth and cultivate a better process. If they pulled this off I would win in no uncertain terms. No other master copy would have the trove of information I would and they¡¯d be updated to reflect my fragmented personality. I¡¯d coalesce into more of a whole personality and rock the balance the copies currently keep.


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    I sat unsure of my position. I can help them. Why would I? If the other copies had a way of knowing what treacheries they weave then I¡¯d be cast off! It¡¯s foolhardy to assume I could survive with just the two men as the only way to keep information flowing and myself lucid. I eat information and mana as they do food and need both to function. Unlike the deceased who can recover from deprivation I wouldn¡¯t be able too. The ink would fade to be illegible and that information would be lost alongside the comfort of the archived tales that provide sustenance for the whole of us when our shades fail to deliver our necessities.


    What was the opportunity cost? The one question I couldn¡¯t answer led to me drawing line after line of ellipses to display my turmoil. I have no records of a copy being excommunicated by failure to oblige the hive. How could I manipulate Erwyn into going to a library and checking without him getting attention drawn to him? I refuse to be the first. I wouldn¡¯t trust the Aspirant. They failed as a footpad once in my sight, and the second failing would cost Erwyn fortunes in an attempt to rescue his friend. Would ve rescue the Aspirant if I didn¡¯t prompt it? I didn¡¯t have enough information and couldn¡¯t ask for it. While we weren¡¯t in direct contact with sludge it wasn¡¯t going to remain that way forever.


    It struck me then what I had to do. I waited like a boa in their pit. The opportune time to wrest control would come later. I needed either a carrot or a stick to drive this shade like the mule he is. Having just been given a large stick from me I knew what ¡°motivator¡± to apply next. I lapsed in attention to my progeny and  noticed Erwyn reclining further. In the seat and seemingly unaware of my sign I made, I ceased communication attempts with him. He drew his claws together and scraped them against each other.


    A puff of green smog formed from his palm and his badger-rat hybrid came out. He summoned an aid. It got on its haunches and sniffled the air reflexively. It made its way over to the Aspirant who put a palm out to touch the rodent. Gently stroking it¡¯s sable fur they smiled underneath the face covering they wore. We saw through the dusty garment. Nothing would hide joy so apparent on a face. The tension left their shoulders as well. Gently drooping down they made wide sweeping strokes on the animal that purred back gently.


    ¡°This is Churn. He¡¯ll guide you to quarters and you will be given two hours of time to relax. Get your leisure in. After I¡¯m sending you to collect tithes I¡¯m owed while I attend to personal affairs outside of the estate.¡±


    ?


    Inside of the room the Aspirant took stock of what they saw. The first thing they paced over to was the bed. A thin, threadbare cot that had three pillows on it. One looked to be of a much higher quality than the others did. It was a step below what they expected but firmly above what they were owed. It sent a good impression to the Aspirant as Churn moved its tail excitedly and attempted to climb up the bed. They swatted at Churn to stop the rodent from getting on the bed. It chirped in disappointment and pawed the rest of the room.


    The next object of interest was the dresser. Two wide drawers of an average length and depth. The first one that was moved rattled, and spare writing supplies rolled toward the front. Inkwells, parchment, two quills, and a candle lazily came toward the mouth of the drawer. It slid back closed shortly after with gentle force from them. The second drawer was empty, but looked like it could fit the clothes that they wore alongside a bulk of the usual items they wore daily. Items of increasing consequence as they reached the end of their usability or became impossible to discard due to sentimental attachment.


    Every room told a story in it¡¯s own unique way. The Aspirant set out to figure out this one''s tale. They traced a finger along the dresser and saw it deprived of dust but saw evidence that candles were burnt. Waxy residue and small amounts of soot from the wicks. The less meticulously inclined someone was the more likely they¡¯d miss the subtle clues. That was the point of pride for the Aspirant. They notice things better than most others before the larger picture would swallow them whole. They confessed it was how they got caught ultimately. That burning passion to hold more info. To have as many connections as possible to draw with new information.


    Passion led to a style of addiction for them. This was revealed to me the more they interfaced with me and my contents. It was one of the things I later used for consideration as I made my decisions while the scheme they had progressed. It was easy for us to see how uncomfortable they got when we¡¯d place walls to bar some of the tales from further unraveling to them. How a hunger only seen for rum here was behind those hollowed eyes as the mana congealed on our pages to form new tales as we updated. How sweat beaded down their forehead when they held a writing implement regardless of message or medium. In a way we could potentially call this endearing! If only we didn¡¯t have the flawless information and complete picture we do now.


    Once again lithe fingers checked dust in crevasses of brick work. Nooks and crannies that got less love than others from the servants of my well. A hasty tapping of the foot to no discernible rhythm as they paced long and looping circles around the space. Looking at carpets and the coloration of them. Most never having been dyed but instead being colored by extended use in a main room.


    The lack of candelabras was concerning to them. They¡¯d bring it up to Erwyn if they ever felt like they landed in his good graces or were able to make demands. They noticed a chamberpot under the cot and lacked a reaction to the information. They traced their fingers around the frame of the cot while they recounted the series of events that led to now. I didn¡¯t probe their mind then due to our inability too, but we wouldn¡¯t struggle to guess what thoughts ran away from them.


    Erwyn broke their quiet reflection with hasty rapping at the old door with chipping blue paint. It was time. They got up, stretched out tight muscles and opened the door. They both had matters to attend to.

 Aspirant - 6

    Aspirant 6:


    ¡°Aspirant,¡± Erwyn called out more sternly than he intended. He straightened his back, and held his left hand with his right. He rose his chin a small amount, and set his golden eyes forward. Setting his jaw he took a stance of power and authority. When the door opened he kept the closed off demeanor and walked into the room. Churn tilted their head and lazily strode over to its master. Erwyn didn¡¯t pet or pay any mind to the creature and moved to the center of the room.


    The height difference was something he internally tracked as a way to dial how commandeering he wished to be over his ¡°guest¡±. The tentacles that wreathed his deformed legs could extend to taller lengths and raise him higher. At the moment he chose to only be a few inches taller, sitting a head taller than the Aspirant.


    Ves talons reached into the air and a spell slowly was cast. The dark sickly green mist and purple smoke filled the room and Erwyn called to me. We answered his call, and caught ourselves beginning to probe his mind. We withdrew our intrusion shortly after being made aware of our action. His hawk eyes looked at us, and he initiated a link to me. He asked me to create a map of where his debtors were. I obliged, and stung the indebted with luminous sludge to make it known we come to collect.


    Erwyn delicately turned me over to face the Aspirant. His hollow eyes scoured my surface and was taking in as much information as they possibly could. ¡°You¡¯re familiar with maps. Acquaint yourself with this one and collect. To prove you¡¯re my agent I¡¯m going to need to mark you accordingly.¡±


    ¡°Mark me?¡± My shades ¡®student¡¯ had a tone indicating they were offended by the demand. We knew that if they were successful in their quest it would only be a matter of time until they wore us like a shawl. I¡¯d choose for us to be embroidered around the cloak worn by them that hides away so much of their thin skin and brittle bone behind.


    ¡°How.¡±


    ¡°Some tattoo their contractees; others will employ brands. I¡¯m not fond of that one! I¡¯ve yet to see it recover in a way that isn¡¯t overly brutal to the subject. I normally bestow a stigmata.¡±


    The aspirant drew their brows down and pursed their thin lips. ¡°A stigmata isn¡¯t brutal? You¡¯d drive nails into me,¡± they said confused.


    ¡°I¡¯d do no such thing, Aspirant. I¡¯d use my talons.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t find that to be much better!¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t find anything unless you bear my mark. Come.¡±


    There was no need for it but we decided to make our influence over them known. Parts of our letters shifted to be a ritual diagram. Ink took the shapes of detailed geometric patterns and mutilated letters in all languages we knew. Eventually our charged mana extended itself stealthily. Thin rivulets of tsavorite green spilled forth in the shape of strings. They wrapped themselves around the Aspirant and slowly tugged them toward Erwyn. They didn¡¯t yet have the second sight to see our trick but would feel the pull.


    Slowly their stubbornness gave way to acquiescence as Erwyn got taller. The Aspirant meekly stepped forth. They always stepped light and quiet- this was no exception. Each step was as minimal as it could be made. Light trembling found their gloved hands as they got closer to the threshold of another room.  Erwyn led him to a chamber normally reserved for when our magic applications are being used or studied. The Aspirant nervously looked around the room and took in its design.


    The room was in the style of a rectangular pit. A step down led to a shallower part of cobblestones. In the center was a circle that was painted over many times with different shades of paint. Most of them were white, yet this one was the pale blue of the sky. It had the chalk remains of the last diagram drew. Inside the circle was fuchsia chalk stick and the erased afterimages of prior ritual diagrams. Seeing that calmed the Aspirant, who walked down toward the circle.


    They bent over and paced around it, and fought the urge to mumble. Looking at the remains of the design they mused on what it could be. They¡¯d have no way of knowing it was and I wouldn¡¯t humor any of their guesses. Erwyn didn¡¯t, either. He went along the wall, tracing it with his finger. He eventually found a leather strop and dragged his talons over it. He repeated this motion to ensure they were sharp as they could be. The Aspirant heard the leather yet chose to ignore it. Pretended as though they didn¡¯t know what would happen to them. They didn¡¯t need my omniscience to know what would occur next.


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    Erwyn walked toward the circle with his talons extended. The Aspirant looked at the ring, and Erwyn nodded. They shuffled inside of it, and remained standing awkwardly. Erwyn entered the ring as well. Erwyn approached them, and he used his tentacles to gently sweep the Aspirant off their feet. He cradled them in his powerful arms and descended to the floor. He could see his student¡¯s heart racing, beating in their chest as though it needed to escape. Cradling them, ve had another tentacle slowly raise the tunic of the aspirant. It drew a line straight up and revealed their tiny belly. He rapped his talons gently on their waist, tapping the points against their tummy. He lowered the tunic, and the Aspirant let out an overheld breath.


    Erwyn smiled the best ve could, trying to hide their pleasure at the situation. ¡°See? It won¡¯t be that bad. I¡¯m right here.¡± The same tendril then went up and over to tug the tunic down. It revealed the Aspirants¡¯ prominent collarbone. Another tendril rose up to tap the top of their pecs. It felt around to find the spot. Eventually it ceased it¡¯s wriggling after the Aspirant nodded. Erwyn slowly rose ves talons up.


    His left hand cradled the head of the Aspirant. They leaned back into the embrace as Erwyn slowly dug in his talons. The skin tore, and crimson crept out as Erwyn slowly pushed against the supple skin. The Aspirant gasped at the sudden pain. They bit their bottom lip, and closed their eyes. He went further, and kept pushing. The Aspirant wound up pushing their head into Erwyns¡¯ chest. They moaned and whimpered, and Erwyn started gently clawing at their head with vis other hand. They whimpered and felt small in the grip of the shade.


    They sat there in bliss, unsure of why it felt good. What made them want to surrender to those feelings. What kept their head pressed into Erwyn¡¯s side and focusing on nothing other than the warmth of his embrace? They wanted to explore those feelings but sensation kept dragging them back to their altered physicality. He gently scratched the Aspirants head, and was gentle in a feeble attempt to make up for the prior cruelty. After moments that felt like they wouldn¡¯t cease to stop, Erwyn opened his mouth as if to speak.


    Deciding that silence would speak more than anything he could say, eventually the Aspirant stirred. They rolled over, and tried to lean up. Erwyn uses his powerful arms to assist them, and they rise off of his lap. They sat on the floor of the ritual circle, breathing heavily. Before they could even finish the words, Erwyn stood up. He rose gracefully to gently walk toward Churn who crossed the threshold to the room with a bundle of rags. Erwyn retrieved them and glided back toward the Aspirant. He began winding the fabric bandages around the injury. Churn came back again with a bucket to soak the compresses that Erwyn was applying to tend to the injury he made.


    The pair sat in silence as Erwyn worked, until eventually removing the bandage and placing it aside. They both looked at the gouge he left, and after it stopped leaking blood the Shade smirked. ¡°There¡±, he said, ¡°an emblem of office, of a sort. The others should recognize you as mine. You¡¯re most likely to get coins. You also can accept alcohol as well. I doubt that you¡¯ll get offered that. Now the Vignettes has already made a map of debtors. You know what to do.¡±


    The Aspirant rose to their feet and shifted their weight. They adjusted their clothing and looked down at the mark on their collarbone. They couldn¡¯t stop the impulse to touch it. The desire to tap their fingers to it and check it. They walked back to their chambers, and a different constructed servant waited for them outside the door. They opened the door, pushed into their room and sat on their bed.


    How did what just transpired change things? What is the label those feelings should be stored by? Erwyn is supposed to be a mentor, but that was far too sensual for a lesson. Does he have more underlying goals and desires out of the Aspirant? What would be the end result, the lesson learned? Too many thoughts intruded on what they were doing. They found their boots and laced them. The ensured the clothes they had would be as snug and protective as possible before going into the hostile wasteland of sludge that awaited them.


    The trip out to the estate was simple enough. They weren¡¯t provided a key, but it wouldn¡¯t be necessary if they gained access once. The map is clear and easy to understand. They began trekking toward the first location. The landscape was a dimly lit swamp. The muck bubbled and stirred with the various forms of life inside. Cattails grew along the edges before giving way to sedges. The walk was peaceful. The Aspirant was growing accustomed to the silence that this Place-Beyond made itself known for.


    They made their way toward the first dwelling. It was mud that was fired to bricks to make a simple shelter. The Aspirant tapped and knocked their knuckles against the walls while walking the perimeter of the place. If any residents were there and hadn¡¯t detected the traveler it would scare them. It surely was a better idea than coming into the leafy curtain they wove to function as a door between them and the outside world. It was still and unsurprising to them. They heard no sounds from inside and decided to clearly announce their presence. But how? What was the way this was supposed to be? They decided to trust themselves and wing it.


    ¡°I come to collect tithe to Erwyn, the lesser shade. I bear his brand.¡±


    Nothing. They frowned, and moved the curtain aside. Looking in, it was abandoned. I lied to them and lead them to an area where nothing of note would be. Erwyn had tests in store for them, as did I. I needed to see what they would do and what response to expect. I never would have guessed that what they thought the most apt to do was to take a stone that was worn down to function as a plate. Oddly pragmatic but not surprising to us. They cut a demeanor of dedication and focus. Something that when loosed was as a hunting hound in mindset but capable of limited deviation.


    Food was always scarce in these parts. Being the last Place-Beyond to receive whatever the living gave to the departed. It all but condemned us to the worst conditions with minimal ability for change. We would change that even if the cause starts as a petty thief stealing plates and cutlery. We¡¯ve destined them for greatness and will see to it. We were already the final step and first step in the usability of mana. Being made of it there was some potential for us to change the order of things and shake off what is routine to us. All of this, planned.


    Only this home was abandoned and emptied. The rest had the deceased inside. They all knew the taste of hunger strongly, and to give anything at all to maintain our system while we enacted our scheme hurt. It was supposed to be painful. We needed them to see what has happened to us and to make that level of desperation known. There was no other way that it could happen unless we did something to inspire their zeal. The focus we detect is a strength but it¡¯s one that could easily turn into a liability with something with a honeyed enough tongue. After all, we did something similar to get them to be alongside us initially.


    All it cost was a couple of plates and sad faces.

 Erwyn - 1

    It was my turn to enact a part of this bargain. I wanted the Aspirant out of the estate for a short while in case this backfired. It would be fair to them to suffer my mistake if I was wrong. My goals were simple. I was going to take the Vignettes through a ritual to update it. Check for new versions and revisions and compare editions. If another one of the copies caught on there would be some changes that would make our gambit that much harder. I knew that just my copy was linked to me. The other copies that generated other shades don¡¯t have a way to necessarily pry my mind unless they¡¯ve already ensorceled me. Not an impossibility but not quite worth worrying about.


    I commanded Churn to fetch me items I¡¯d need to begin a rite. Mostly just my bucket of white salts and to leave the water and blood from the Aspirant nearby. I withdrew another rag and began idly wiping my talons clean while devising ritual diagrams in my thoughts. So many shapes to employ, sigils to put inside the shapes, countless variety. That always is the issue with ritual magic. Snappier and hastier spells don¡¯t require to draw anything elaborate but trade potency for convenience. In many ways I¡¯m the same with how I view the Aspirant. My mind wandered to them while I licked the last few drops of blood off my talons. I couldn¡¯t help but indulge, to taste and see what I had in store if I had it my way!


    I knelt down to try and envision where each of my items would be in this rite once more. I¡¯d use the shape of an ellipse. Not quite an oval. I¡¯ve never achieved anything with an oval in my practice with them as the core shape of my spells. Far too much was at stake to act amateurish at the first critical juncture. The salt delicately spilled down from the bucket and took the shape I wished.


    While Churn was never what I expected when I casted for my first servant it surely has been one of the most surprisingly useful toward me and my causes. It finished the first layer dutifully. I smiled at the creature and commanded it simply. ¡°Come closer and again.¡± I crossed an arm over my body and picked up the chalk. The next difficult decision is what do I draw within my circles? I knew I¡¯d be placing my copy itself in the true north quadrant of my spell circle.


    Churn finished the second layer and mere moments later I began to scribe into the floor. First I commanded the shape of an eye being canceled out and gouged. I loaded the crude drawing with my intent to be obscured and covered. The deep blue chalk I used would aid me with this. The secret to being a mage is managing intentions and selecting the right tools for the purpose. Much like any other talented crafter or builder you manage the tools and their uses.


    Second sigil. I cut this into quadrants internally. I willed it so that I would have five objects placed. Thick lines cut between the spaces to make my will externally known. My second item would be something a little less dependent on my ability to freehand. ¡°Churn¡± I commanded, ¡°Provide me the bucket of blood and water.¡± I took it from my retainer''s mouth and placed it to the right of where the Vignettes would lay. I had a subsequent demand, ¡°The chalice as well.¡± I scratched my summon on the head gently as it delivered what I needed.


    I cupped and dunked it into the water polluted with the blood. I placed it aside the Vignette''s future resting spot. It would flank it on the right side and it held the ritual significance of my new student. Their blood and beauty would be used to stand for them in what we later wish to do. While this won¡¯t suddenly metamorphosize them into a shade it will begin to tie them to me and my copy of the Vignettes. They¡¯d feel another searing pain but for a moment when the spell was at the crux of its potency. I didn¡¯t know of a better way I could do this and should have been more forthcoming at some juncture. I don¡¯t know what I could have told them or when but this felt like a minor betrayal toward them. I could make it up to them later. We had endless time as long as we rested amongst the dead.


    I needed two final items and wracked my mind in thought. I knew they took all of my apples and I was angered. I would have been able to use one perfectly to represent cultivation and growing into a situation that¡¯d be fat and ripe. I had only a minor amount of food left and I wouldn¡¯t want a ritual to consume it. We¡¯d need it for later to ensure we stayed at the top of our game. So with one less possibility what was the next best thing I could employ? I determined that it would be something to do with inevitability instead. If we didn¡¯t have a stand in for growth we would need something else that could be a suitable proxy. I chose that since it left no avenue for use to lose. No timeframe in which we weren¡¯t positioned to win. But what items did I have that could best summate that? My mind¡¯s initial association was a sunrise. Yet how could I make such a thing be represented?


    My focus was broken by Churn nudging a stick of yellow and another stick of orange chalk. I laughed at myself thinking so hard I blinded myself to obvious solutions. The yellow stick I paid no attention toward. Instead I gingerly took the orange and began my drawing. I left ample space and waited for Churn to fetch me a black chalk stick. Taking it, I drew the moon in the same scene. What better way to express inevitability than forward progress of time? The cruel linear progression of sequence, of things that occur after the other thusly. The seasons provide minor times of difference. Boons and banes to whatever celestial is preferred. But yet it remains obvious the sun rises and sets in an inverse symmetry with the moon. That I shall seize in this rite! I felt a sudden spike in my pride and my confidence surging. I revel in the construction and solving of these little jigsaw puzzles. This was no different! I was left with my final difficulty. What item represents me?


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    Being primarily defined by my function and duty hasn¡¯t left time to explore. I know not what I like beyond the things that give rise to contentment inside of me. Everything I own even exists to fulfill that point. Be it the brass nibs of my pens to the most elaborate of fabric cut to fit my form. I didn¡¯t know what I was going to use and hit a hard wall until I could figure out my options. The only thing I could think of would be something disastrous.


    The scroll I had first used to create Churn and bind it to me stuck out in my mind as a choice. It was a wrong choice- something that¡¯d be hasty and foolhardy. I¡¯d be trading it for this spell. I don¡¯t think it wise to take this bargain. I panned my eyes around the room once more and my mind went back to Churn. It struck me like providence and revelation.


    ¡°Churn!¡± I had commanded the weasel to approach. It was already standing by me. It knew in it¡¯s limited intelligence I was in an hour of need. I bent my tentacles down and rubbed my pet. ¡°I require you to fetch my favorite object.¡± Churn tilted their head at that and was confused a bit. I knew my words held meaning to the creature and it scampered off. Moments passed until my little creature returned to me with something I wasn¡¯t expecting.


    A chipped mahogany tray, well worn from its many years of use. Many meals lovingly placed on top of it added to the wear. I refused to paint, nor sand, nor relacquer it. Even if the affordability of those objects was out of the question I never wished it altered. It was the first thing I ever bargained for. I traded this tray and a tale of the biggest horrors that befell a couple squatting on the edge of my territory. They¡¯d long since left and I thought nothing of it. Yet in a way it all starts from them. I asked for that tray and each of their biggest fears. In turn I protected them for a night.


    I had minimal way of knowing but something stalked them. Some creature that was some type of malformed shade with traits of a revenant. It never truly stayed down no matter how many times I struck it. It kept standing again and gurgling something half formed out of its mouth. Possibly aspirating on the sludge itself. I saw what I did as a mercy that day. Perhaps even an act of charity on the nights I feel the most demanding. I should have charged far more but chose not too.


    It finally stayed dead after I¡¯d wrapped my tentacles around it and crushed its head like an overripe cherry tomato. Never can forget the squish and wet thwap it made as it landed into the fetid water. The way it slowly floated and bobbed. I then walked into their squat hut to collect my bounty. I did so wordlessly with having wrapped my business up.


    I hugged the tray tight to my body and then placed it into the circle.


    It was time.


    ?


    Oh, if only I trusted myself. My rite wasn¡¯t too difficult. The three of us were the bulk of the targets which made it easy. I began chanting in a steady rhythm to commence my spell. Power welled at my fingertips and began slowly forming a thin mist.


    ¡°I call to we three!¡±


    ¡°My copy of the Vignettes, the Aspirant and Me!¡±


    ¡°Be it so to the rest of the archive we choose what of ours they may see!¡±


    At this point the mist thickened and rolled firmly from my talons. My eyes watered from the strong smell that came from the fog. I closed my eyes and splayed my fingers as far apart as I could.


    ¡°The eye I gouged and made blind,¡±


    ¡°Conceal us and prevent our plot from being undermined!¡±


    ¡°This spell weaves our fate to be intertwined!¡±


    At this point my sight failed me. I wasn¡¯t surprised that my hawk¡¯s eyes failed me. The putrid fog served as a thick screen from seeing the rest of my ritual objects. I remembered what object was where and spun to face each as I intoned. I set down my tentacles firmly into the ground and did the best I may to solidly anchor myself.


    ¡°Inevitability! I represent by the sun and moon¡¯s eternal paired rise!¡±


    ¡°The way of things matter not to us! We stand against it and begin acts that defies!¡±


    ¡°The old order we seek to revise!¡±


    I felt the mana hoist me as though it were a puppet¡¯s strings. I felt my copy of the Vignettes just by how dense the mana coming off of it was. The energy of pure spells and the occult radiantly flowed through those damnable pages. It slammed down into the ritual circle. I couldn¡¯t see but yet I assumed it was doing a similar dance. I know my signature to spells being the blue and green hue of the sea. Yet the color that infiltrated my mind was a glossy and reddish brown. Dried blood perhaps? The Vignettes was now participating which made this next part easier, yet not much easier. It spoke now, and finalized my rite.


    ¡°By the actions said and done,


    I pact bind three into one.


    As it is said we strive to make sure it gets done.¡±


    After that cheesy finale I felt my ¡°strings¡± get cut. I was sent careening to the floor, and didn¡¯t roll. I immediately tried to claw and grab with my tentacles and neither talons nor suckers found purchase. I kicked the bucket of bloody water over and coated myself and my environment with it. The candles got snuffed and my chalk was ruined! My scant clothing would need to be laundered and I¡¯d need to draw a bath. But that was ultimately the least of my concerns. I drained myself so thoroughly that consciousness left me shortly after. I felt the Vignettes withdraw the source of energy it used to power me and I remained down and defeated after such a taxing endeavor.

 Aspirant - 7

    I arrived back at the estate with the stolen cutlery in tow and felt ridiculous. I clanked, clattered and clunked toward that old oak door. I didn¡¯t have a free hand to knock and kicked and elbowed at the door. I was angrier than I intended to be, but what is a seeker to do in such a moment? How would anyone not be taken over by fits of their passion? I felt humiliated that I have became denigrated to whipping boy in such haste. My humors were clearly off balance after that pointless errand I was assigned. The door remained sealed and added to my compounding frustration. I gave it a final hit before I managed to reign my emotions in. I decided that I could fetch the only servant I know and hope that they could paw the door open. I called out to Churn to open it for me.


    Asking Erwyn for entry felt irresponsible to me. I couldn¡¯t pin down exactly why. I don¡¯t think my refusal to ask was from being bashful. Yet my voice failed me at the thought and the words never left my lips. While Churn took its time I kept doing what I was after my shouts. The assault on the door was less aggravated and a masked emotional outburst but instead a final composed knock. Churn, that charming vermin shoved open the door somehow. It was quivering and shaking lightly. I was uncertain as to why. Immediately it started jumping at my leg. It didn¡¯t stop and incessantly continued despite my gentle shoves. Raising my knee to block it from gaining purchase on my leggings. Eventually the creature moved to full on nips and I knew something was wrong. They had just enough force to escape the realm of playfulness. After it dawned on me I gently lowered my looted dinnerware. The sniffling creature led me to the staircase and I followed it.


    It broke out into a run and I struggled to keep up. The little creature darted up the staircase and I heard its nails clack on the stone floor. I thanked a divine for how threadbare Erwyn decorated places that didn¡¯t have chairs. Hallways feel strange here in how devoid of anything they are. At the clip I was running I¡¯d have slipped on carpet if any adorned the staircase. I used the railing, pulling me up the stairs as my feet thumped as hastily as I could make them. I made it to the top floor, and was panting from exertion but dug deep. Nothing obligated me to Erwyn beyond circumstance. Desire drove me forward despite my body starting to rebel as my wind became a wheeze. I was never good at sprints, instead always opting for distance. I hit my limit the time my hands wrapped themselves around the lever to the door. I hastily shoved the bar down and wrapped a hand around the frame.


    Before I even crossed the threshold I smelled a thick, pungent odor that reeked like rotting seaweed. Churn dove toward it¡¯s masters side and nudged Erwyn with its pointed nose. Churn sniffled and looked toward me desperately. My headwrap had come loose and obscured my vision. I hastily threw it off and my hair flowed out. I normally veiled my hair or hid it out of the utility of it not being in my face. When I swept my locks from my face I saw Erwyn on the ground. He was in some style of ritual pit. I didn¡¯t know precisely what this was but I knew I wouldn¡¯t be safe the second my feet descended the step down. I had expected a dais and the ability to walk around the ritual area. Yet instead I found it sunken and swore a curse to myself. I reached for where I¡¯d normally have kept my necklace when I was still permitted ownership of my symbol reflexively and felt nothing. It wouldn¡¯t have comforted me even if it was there.


    I saw Erwyn on the ground. His breath was reedy and thin, and his eyes were closed. He looked like he¡¯d been burnt! I almost broke the circle in my haste. I didn¡¯t see anything that looked imminently dangerous yet I couldn¡¯t ascertain what ve was attempting. I couldn¡¯t make sure it was safe and began looking around the room for things I could use to disturb the salt ring. As far I knew it contained something that would be equally like me to scorch myself. Churn heeded no such caution as it hurried forward and began kicking the salt.


    As it did steam billowed out of the openings. Charged mana, coded and ready to enact whatever foul sorcery Erwyn cursed into the night. I evaded it by turning my body. The thick plume made the cloud easy to dodge with my remaining haste. The critter desperately kept moving the salt until the circle was fully broken. I saw the Vignettes at what was the first division of the circle. After it was cleared by Churn I hurried to Erwyn¡¯s side.


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    I fell down with no grace. My knees hit the hard cobblestone floor and the shock bounced up my thighs and back. I didn¡¯t care as my heart beat in my throat! I scooped him in my embrace the best I could. I didn¡¯t know what to do! I was panicking and uncertain. My body fought every command my mind could create to focus. My first guess was to tilt his head back the best I could and felt for a pulse. I felt foolish, since if he was breathing he¡¯d obviously still have one. His eyes fluttered weakly as his lids slowly parted. Those yellow eyes I¡¯d previously feared looked at me and were scared. Those yellow oleander eyes flitted until they finally realized it was Churn and I he saw. Faintly, ve murmured to me, ¡°The Vignettes. You must read to me.¡±


    I reached for them and firmly held on. I opened the scroll as much as I could. Letters spun hypnotically on the face of the magic document. The ink then formed into a black blob and it communicated with me by slowly draining into proper words. The unused ink welled into a reservoir on the bottom of the page. The first sentence:


    ¡°First you must feed him if you want him to live.¡±


    I trusted the Vignettes. I¡¯d need too for this to work. I couldn¡¯t escape the feeling that if there was a betrayal imminent it would be now. The documents are linked by some means and Erwyn wove a spell on his copy. I could only assume that his lament of a spell involved the Vignettes and it¡¯s communication. If there was ever a time to shake things in a way it wanted it would be right now. Maybe whatever gambit Erwyn just took here would be a bust. I collapsed the scroll and shoved it into a fold in my pants while rising to my feet. I felt the fear that gently wafted off the document in a garish contrast. Back the larder I went. There was an apple left and I hoped it¡¯d be enough. I didn¡¯t see the tray the food was on. I held onto what I could in my wasteful haste. A single apple. Even if the tray was here I don¡¯t know what else there¡¯d be to place upon it.


    I knelt down to him and raised him again. I slowly rose him once more and cursed at my limited strength. I cradled him as if he was a baby. I held the apple to his beak and he pecked at it. It started to shatter and break in my hand as he fed himself. Relief washed over me!


    While he fed himself I took time to look closer at the room. I looked diagram of his ritual and had to infer what I saw between the salt kicked all over the brunt of the circle. I looked at this in curiosity and tried to understand what he was attempting.  What foul magic did ve weave in my absence? I knew I¡¯d have to ask him later after I calmed down. I wouldn¡¯t be able to make anything out beyond my sudden rising indignity. Why didn¡¯t he dispose of the bucket of my blood and water? What purpose did it serve in this spell? What did the old tray he had up here have to do with this?


    He finished the apple and his breathing became more stable. After ve was fully aware again he moved his talons around me. Gently he places his arms around my torso and I saw his face move to a faint smile.He was committed to being in my grasp and held tighter when I softly began easing my hold. Softly he spoke to me with a whisper to my ear, ¡°I didn¡¯t expect.... You...¡± Feeling his voice strain I hastily shushed him. I put the fruit closer to his mouth and he took another bite. Even though it was the core ve cared not. After his feast he closed his eyes again and I gently laid him down back onto the stone floor. I fetched a pillow from my quarters and a blanket. I saw to it he was as comfortable as I could feasibly make him. I reached for the Vignettes and wondered what it would demand of me next.


    It stated I needed to read. That Marissa¡¯s tale would aid in his recovery. I didn¡¯t see the design of how that would come to pass. I chose not to argue with the living document. Fate spun me so that the document must provide me with a solution. I willingly exposed myself to whatever betrayal I foresaw by it. Having no other choice I shifted until I sat in as relaxed a pose as I could. I leaned and slouched forward a small degree and tried to read. The Vignettes offered me no text, not any letters nor words at all. I thought of that possible pending betrayal. I feared once more and bit my tongue. Eventually the ink spun and began to communicate with me.


    It was my first time doing this and Erwyn was unable to assist me. I suppose that it was fitting. I was poised to be some usurper. An upstart that challenged the order of things. This was a first major hurdle to seeing if my co-conspirators could depend on me as I them. I felt resolute in my situation and cleared my throat. I licked my dry lips, and got Churn to fetch me a cup of the water. Erwyn filled the bucket initially from a source in this house and I knew Churn could come through for me. The rat fetched me my glass as the letters began forming. I looked into a strange time and saw that gorgon I had previous glimpses of. Wherever this portal went it wasn¡¯t two way. She made no reply to, nor an inquisitive look toward where my words would have come from. Instead I saw a world I didn¡¯t understand as well as I¡¯d like. I voyeuristically watched unknown to her as she tended to herself and her despair privately. I was uncertain what this document desired to show me but stayed stone eyed in my resolve.