《Patchwork》 Chapter 1: 17 The first thing the creature felt was pain. Energy crackled throughout its body, starting its heart, charging its brain and its nervous system with divine lightning. Its body felt like it was on fire, though it did not know what fire was, so it couldn''t truly make a comparison to anything. Air was sucked forcefully into its lungs, filling up its massive barrel chest, then it reversed direction, tearing out of its throat as a bloodcurdling scream. The creature''s eyes snapped open and darted around, taking in as much information as it could. A bright light shined down on it in the dark room and it looked down to find its large gray-skinned body covered in incisions and surgical stitches. As its heart pumped for the first time, it could see thick purple ichor slowly oozing out of the cuts. It was naked and strapped to an operating table, with wires and pipettes hooking the creature up to several machines, one pumping it full of electricity, and another draining old purple blood and filling it with fresh scarlet. The creature shut its eyes in pain, feeling a stinging tear squeeze free and roll back towards its ear. The electricity stopped pulsing but the pain remained, causing the creature to flinch and shiver as the ambient electricity drained away. It could hear only one sound. Click click click. It slowly opened its eyes again, squinting into the dark room. Stepping into the light was a woman with short emerald green hair and piercing violet eyes. Her face and her arms, that lay exposed by rolled up sleeves, bore dozens of scars and healing burns, like she had been tossed on a funeral pyre covered in broken glass. Her toned yet muscular frame stretched her long white coat anytime she shifted and she wore red high heels that lacked any actual heels, giving her the impression of walking tip-toed. She observed the creature for a moment with those cold, calculating, violet eyes, before clicking her tongue and beginning to speak. The creature lay there confused. It was barely a few minutes old with no language for reference, but fortunately she didn¡¯t seem to be talking to it. She held forward her pointer finger, summoning a ball of energy that seemed to have a life of its own, glowing with violet energy tinged with green. For a second, she balanced the ball lightly on the finger as it molded itself into the shape of a small fish, then pressed it into the creature''s forehead, sending this new, thankfully painless, energy into the creature''s mind. "There," she muttered, "for now you will understand me." Then in a commanding tone she said, "Creature, I am your maker, and your mistress, and when you learn to speak, you shall address me as Doctor Oswin. You are designated as Number 17, though if you impress me, I may grant you a new name. 17, nod if you understand." The creature, 17, hesitated as it heard the words, then the energy, whatever it was, processed the words into images and simple terms for it to understand. 17 nodded, not knowing what else to do. It had no memories other than the ones forming now, so it had no reason to disobey. "Good. Rest now, if you survive 12 hours without organ failure, we will begin testing in the morning." With that, she clicked her fingers, summoning the energy fish to her clenched fist, turned and left with the click click click of her heelless high heels. The newly made creature was alone with its thoughts, which weren''t much company. The main light above the operating table snapped off, letting 17 see through the glass window that took up a large section of the ceiling. 17 gazed at the tiny crystals high above that seemed to be reflecting the dying violet light coming from far to the south. It thought of all it now knew. Two things stuck out as important things to know, two names. "Sev-tee." It pronounced, its tongue and lips shaping more out of muscle memory, than actual knowledge. Its voice was low and gravelly, and it frowned. That is not what she said. It thought, though with a much more simple vocabulary, then tried again. "Sev-ntee." 17 rumbled, its recently revived tongue clumsily sounding out the consonants. Closer, but not quite. "Sev-ntee-n." That would do for now, but what about her? "Dox-win?" No! No! No! It thought impatiently, it would have cursed its own tongue if it knew of the concept. It tried again, slower. "Doc-ker¡­ Oz-win?" I''ll need more practice, but that works. It continued trying out the new words long after the violet light outside faded and darkness fell. 17 even tried remembering those words she had spoken before, but its clumsy tongue and only half remembered sentences resulted in nothing. It looks like that thing, whatever that is, allowed me to understand her, maybe if I learned to do it myself, I can understand her whenever I want. Nobody, not even 17, knew it yet, but those weren''t the thoughts of an obedient servant. Those early thoughts were sprinkled with independence.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Time passed and a bright red light began shining through the glass ceiling. 17 shivered as the light and warmth passed through the window, allowing it to see itself and its surroundings clearly for the first time. By rolling its head from side to side and straining its eyes, it gained a better bearing of its surroundings. The machines that were plugged into it hummed along in an almost soothing frequency, keeping it relaxed. Charts and blackboards lined the walls, covered in symbols and pictures that annoyed 17; It yearned to understand, to learn. Several of the charts seemed to represent it, showing it cut into different pieces, with breakdowns on what was shown and how each section functioned. With effort, 17 lifted its large head to get a better look at its body, and compared itself to the pictures. The bloodstained leather straps that bound it to the table creaked and resisted, kept it from rising further, but now 17 could see the door and its reflection on an observation window on the far wall. 17 inspected its face as best it could, and noted its graying skin, covered in incisions. It was bald, and had a relatively large nose and pair of ears. All in all, it looked like an old slab of stone seconds away from crumbling that a child had carved into something like a face. 17 realized the only color on its face, its whole body in fact, were its eyes. Violet eyes, just like Doctor Oswin. Click click click. A familiar sound came from the door, and within seconds, the good doctor herself strode in, flanked by two more people in white coats. One was a fat blond man in something like a weighted jacket under his coat with compression braces strapped to his knees and ankles. He was wheezing as he carried shackles and chains, despite them being made of wood and leather. The other was a stout, scrawny creature, with hair in all the wrong places. It created an image that one wouldn''t necessarily call human. The imp in a lab coat wore both a monocle and eyepatch, on opposing eyes, and they were carrying an obsidian black sphere in one hand and a sadistic glint in their single right eye. Their single Violet eye. Both of the presumed lab assistants were dwarfed in height and sheer presence by Doctor Oswin. She was studying a clipboard silently, before walking towards the machines that were monitoring 17. Her colleagues seemed to be standing guard, the bald imp in particular hadn''t taken their eye off 17. Meanwhile the blond had set down his load and began chugging water from a canteen at his belt, clearly not paying attention. 17 slowly followed the doctor with its eyes, before opening its mouth to speak. ¡°Doc-ter¡­ Oz-win¡± the creature rumbled, pleased with itself, a delightful new feeling, at how close that sounded like the way she''d said it. At the sound of her name, Oswin jumped in surprise and whirled around to look at 17 for the first time since she''d entered the room. The imp froze, the malicious light in their eye darkened, and was replaced by a new glint of curiosity, and the blond choked on his water and began coughing. Oswin studied 17 and spoke to it. 17 had no idea what she was saying, but listened to the calm but curious tone in which she spoke. It stared at her blankly, before a light of realization flashed in Oswin¡¯s eyes. She held up her pointer finger like she''d done the night before, and summoned not one, but two glowing spheres. Each reshaped itself into a tiny fish and then playfully chased the other in circles around her finger, before she commanded one to enter 17¡¯s head, and the other into her own. ¡°Do you understand me?¡± Oswin asked. 17 paused, then remembering the gesture for affirmation, it nodded. ¡°How are you learning so quickly?¡± She asked, more to herself. ¡°You''ve been alive for thirteen hours and have already pronounced my name, as if you knew¡­¡± she trailed off, staring into 17¡¯s eyes, as if trying to dissect its brain through its pupils. The energy in 17¡¯s mind translated each word into simple enough pictures and concepts, and 17 began archiving the words she was saying, alongside their meanings. One word stood out to 17, the word used for gathering knowledge, the thing it had wanted to do since awakening. ¡°Ler-nin.¡± It winced, though not knowing how, it hadn''t had enough practice with its tongue yet, and was embarrassed by its inability. ¡°Otis!¡± Oswin called never taking her eyes off 17¡¯s. The blond, Otis, who had just barely regained his breath, shuffled over. ¡°Yeah boss?¡± he wheezed, looking warily at 17. ¡°What was the record for the other experiments gaining the pronunciation and understanding of words on their own?¡± Oswin asked. ¡°Like about 3 Sol-Cycles I think, and even then it was only simple words like ¡®food¡¯ or ¡®ouch.¡¯ You don''t think it actually understands what it''s saying, do you?¡± Otis asked, exasperated. ¡°It spoke without using the Glyph,¡± the imp pointed out in a voice that resembled squeezing an old ketchup bottle that had nothing left but air, ¡°though spotty on the pronunciation, it was surprisingly close for one with a dead tongue.¡± ¡°Capulet , do you think it''s possible after all these years?¡± Oswin asked the imp. Capulet sighed and the obsidian orb in their hand dissipated. "It''s not impossible, but we''ll have to see. Hyper-intelligence is a good start, but that''s not the gift we¡¯re looking for.¡± 17 stared blankly at each of them, absorbing information, though not knowing what it meant. Oswin turned back to it and gave a cold smile. ¡°17,¡± she said, attempting to tone down her excitement, ¡°we are going to undo the straps and you are going to stand up.¡± She then nodded to Otis, and the two of them began removing the straps that bound 17. It hesitated as the energy coursing through its mind defined what it meant to stand, then slowly, unsteadily it rose to its feet. 17¡¯s 7¡¯8,¡± 300 lbs frame towered over the scientists, slightly helped by the fact that it hadn''t gotten off the table. ¡°I mean¡­ it stood up.¡± Otis provided, and looked away to keep from laughing. Oswin facepalmed and Capulet didn''t bother to hide a snicker. ¡°17.¡± Oswin tried again, pointing to a spot beside her. ¡°Stand on the floor.¡± 17 paused again, before swinging one of its legs out onto open air, dropped, and crashed to the ground. It roared in pain and Oswin rushed in to check for damage. Finding nothing, she sighed in relief. ¡°Thank the Solshard you''re durable,¡± She and Otis helped lift 17, and they helped it walk it''s first steps out of the room, and into a new world. Chapter 2: Mariana The gleaming green light of the Solshard was dimming to nothing, marking the time of what most would call the Black hour. An hour of darkness as the Solshard changed to the next color in its cycle, blue. Mariana perched atop one of the highest cathedrals in the city of Luster, peering into the lonely alleyway below, her long black over-cloak deflecting the rain off her and keeping her hidden from the solitary figure in the alleyway. Anxiously, she gripped the hilt of her sword, a sword of heavy iron, and had to resist the urge to increase her skin temperature against the cold rain. Doing that would sap her strength, and not to mention, it could boil the rain that landed on her, generating some very noticeable steam. Thus she shivered in silence. Mariana was waiting for the man below to meet his client, and fortunately she didn''t have to wait much longer. She spotted the top of an obsidian black umbrella out of the corner of her eye, slowly making its way down the alley to the dealer. Mariana could hear the faint clicking of their shoes hitting the cobblestone and she focused on that sound. Click click click. Mariana concentrated on making the sound louder. Increasing one''s senses took little effort, especially compared to increasing strength or durability. She doubled her sense of hearing, then tripled, then quadrupled it, till the sound of rain on the tile rooftop was deafening. She winced in pain, but listened to the whispering figures 8 stories below. "You''re late, again." Came a nasally masculine voice, that had to be the dealer. "I''m never late, you should expect me to arrive precisely when I mean to." The buyer''s feminine voice was calm and so soft that Mariana considered increasing her hearing once more, but decided against it. The dealer snorted at the buyer''s response, "I half expect you are trying to get us caught," he muttered, then pulled a package out of his coat and passed it under the umbrella, trading it for a sack of jingling coins. The buyer then turned and, click click click, walked away. Mariana relaxed her ears, letting her hearing return to normal, then carefully rose, and crept after the black umbrella. If her sources were right, this woman was a witch, a foul creature in human form, capable of commanding the spirits themselves. Mariana forced her nerves into submission, she''d never fought a witch before, only spirits that had gotten too rowdy and had started terrorizing citizens. ¡°Remember your training,¡± she whispered to herself, ¡°This is a surveillance mission only.¡± She pulled her hood forward to block any stray lights she didn''t need to see, then focused on the obsidian black umbrella and doubled her vision, but then released it. She needed to be closer. Even with Soul Magnum, she could lose her target. Mariana scanned the buildings nearby and chose one with a relatively flat roof about 50 feet away and about 40 feet straight down. She tensed her muscles, focusing first on durability to help her withstand the strain of building her strength. Soul Magnum was a useful tool, allowing a person to multiply certain aspects of themselves for short periods of time, but it''s also unnatural, and without serious training, she could tear herself apart. The highest she''d ever been able to multiply her strength or really any of her attributes was by 5, which is nothing to scoff at considering nobody had ever gone above 10 without suffering a horrific death within minutes of use. She held her breath while her skin tightened over her tensing muscles. Double. Triple. Then she focused on strength. Mariana¡¯s crimson uniform under her cloak stretched and strained as her muscles doubled in size, then tripled. She drew breath again as she felt her strength increase. The breath control didn''t do anything to activate the ability, but it was good to focus on something. Times four. She heard a creak of protest, but wasn''t sure if it was her clothes, or her bones. Times five. She hesitated, Is that enough? She thought, looking down at the 80 foot drop to street level. It better be. It needs to be. Mariana exploded into motion, leaping from the cathedral roof with such tremendous force, she heard stone crack behind her. She hurtled towards the roof at breakneck speed and dropped her strength back to times three. For the landing she needed durability. Times four. Her bones were as strong as the cave stone. Times five. She crashed into the rain soaked roof, rolling to reduce the impact as best she could. Mariana gasped as she continued to slide towards the edge, she threw out a hand and decimated a passing chimney in an effort to stop. She was still going too fast. Mariana dug her fingers into the tiled roof, leaving eight tiny trails of destruction before¡­ nothing. Mariana was looking at the ground, 40 feet down, as her momentum carried her crashing into the stone wall of the next building. Mariana grunted in pain and struggled to focus on her durability as she fell, bracing for impact.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. The stone street cracked as she landed. Mariana''s form shrunk and softened as she released Soul Magnum and after a while, began the attempt to lift herself to her feet. Nothing felt broken, but she wasn''t sure which was more bruised, her body or her pride. Mariana began carefully increasing her healing speed and efficiency, double would be enough for this, and limped towards the exit of the alleyway she''d found herself in. As she neared the edge of the alley, she heard voices, and cursed under her breath. She adjusted her hood and cloak and stooped to hide any discernible features. As the people came into focus, she found a quintet of drunks that made her wish Soul Magnum could reduce her sense of smell to nothing, but Soul Magnum only increases the traits you already have. One foul older man leaped in front of her and popped his leg up on a box. He leaned leisurely towards her, an arm resting on his knee. The stench of alcohol and half a dozen other unpleasant things seeped out of his rotten yellow grin and into Mariana''s wrinkling nostrils, now only inches away. ¡°Tha¡¯s a fancy lookin entrance ya made. Fancy one like ya must¡¯ve a fancy wallet too. Le¡¯s make a deal.¡± His words dripped lazily from his tongue like molasses. ¡°Ya pay for me crews next drink, and we forgive yer little trespass on our street.¡± Mariana studied her aggressor''s leathery Sol-burnt face for a moment, noting the wicked gleam in the scrawny man¡¯s eye. She noted the four cronies surrounding her, each with a matching, overconfident grin, but none of them had moved from their seats. ¡°Your street? I don''t see your name on it.¡± Mariana remarked, and the drunk nonchalantly nodded to a sign on one of the nearby walls that read verbatim: ¡°Dugalo¡¯s Streit.¡± Mariana wasn''t sure what about the sign was making her eyes water when looking at it, whether it was the horrid handwriting, the malicious misspelling, or the ridiculous blue paint. ¡°Ah, so it does.¡± ¡°Sah, we¡¯ve a deal?¡± presumably Dugalo offered, releasing more of the toxic cloud that anyone else might call a breath. ¡°Listen,¡± Mariana started, ¡°I don''t have time for this. I typically don''t deal with ordinary thugs, but you have ten seconds to get out of my face and out of my way before I cut off your nose.¡± She said, then slowly, but intently parted her cloak so they could see her sword¡¯s pommel and moved to draw it. Unfortunately her threat seemed to make the brigands grin even wider. ¡°Oh-ho?, oi like yer funny words, swordswoman, but words don''t account for much when yer tongue''s lyin in the mud.¡± Dugalo chuckled coldly and Mariana froze as she felt the icy steel of a gun barrel pressed into her chin. She hadn''t even seen the man draw it or move his arms, no shift in his weight or sound the rustling in his clothing. ¡°Now what was that about cuttin off me nose?¡± The brigand chuckled, and Mariana realized she''d seriously underestimated the man. ¡°oi¡¯m a fergivin man, so oi¡¯ll give ya another chance if ya buy our drinks for the rest of the night. Oi¡¯ll take the sword and clothes too. Do we have a deal?¡± Mariana narrowed her eyes, anger and pride welling up inside of her. She focused on speed and felt her muscles tense like springs being stretched and held. Double, triple, quadriple, she didn''t dare amplify more without the safety of increasing her durability and she didn''t have time for that. In less than a second, Mariana threw herself out of the path of the pistol, landed, drew her sword and aimed for the nose just as she''d promised. CLANG! Mariana blinked in surprise, Dugalo had blocked her blade with his pistol braced against his forehead. ¡°Well well well, an Inquisitor. We don''t take kindly to yer kind, but we''ll kindly take yer shite.¡± Dugalo cackled and drew a blade before falling into the familiar aggressive form of the four major sword stances, Inferno. His stance was wide but practiced, posture loose but ready to fall into explosive motion. It was unusual to see a pistol used in this style, but the way he held himself and his weapons, it was clear he was no ordinary thug. Mariana retreated into the more defensive Mountain stance, footing strong, immovable, and her sword held in both hands, raised in a high guard. ¡°Who are you?¡± Mariana demanded, rage filling her voice, ¡°You seem trained in Inferno, but you look like you''ve never seen a shower and a shave in your life. Are you a deserter?¡± ¡°Las I checked,¡± Dugalo scowled, ¡°I''m th¡¯one asken questions.¡± The other brigands cleared the way to enjoy the show, but notably three of them were blocking the exit, while the fourth stood further down the alleyway. It was clear nobody was leaving before this was settled. The stage was set for a battle. Chapter 3: Felix The boy couldn''t have been older than 14. His thick protective overalls were covered in machine oil and dirt as he crawled on his hands and knees through his workshop. He wore steel toed boots which were a bit too big for him, and looked to be more made of bandages and bruises than flesh and bone. "Alright you little sucker," Felix grumbled, gripping a large wrench in his tiny, calloused hands. "I know you''re in here, come on out." As if to answer his request, the aggravating creature poked its head out of the floor directly in front of the boy as if it were a swimmer coming up for air. Its head was long and cone shaped like an anteater''s, but had long floppy ears like a mule. It was the color of rust and feces and it grinned cruelly at the boy with its pure black eyes. Felix swung with all his might, but the creature dove back down, and the sound of metal clanging against the stone floor rang throughout the shop. He unleashed a tempest of swears as he dropped the wrench in pain and clutched his wrist. A few feet away, the creature surfaced, taunting the boy by coming further out of the ground. Not thinking, Felix reached for the wrench and jumped up, only to be yanked back down by the wrench, which he quickly found had been submerged a few inches in the stone and fused there. Felix blinked away tears as he held his sore shoulder, and sat there as the pest leaped from the ground and danced. It clutched its stomach with three clawed hands as if it were laughing, but it made no sound, spirits rarely did. Its forth arm waved the brass gear above its head, tiny, but essential to the project he was working on. "Damn Spirit." Felix swore quietly, glaring at the menace. He stood slowly and stalked towards his tormenter. The spirit looked on, wary, but still enjoying itself. They stood there for a few moments, arms length of each other, studying one another. Felix was short for his age, but this creature was only half his height. The spirit had stopped moving and it grinned, an unsettling sight considering the shape of its mouth. It spread its four arms and exposed its belly, even bowing its head forward, leaving itself open for an attack. Felix knew it was a trick, the spirit would just pass through his strike as it had the others, but he was pissed, and the vermin was literally asking for it. He brought his foot back, ready to kick, then swung it like he was kicking a ball. The spirit continued to grin that unsettling grin. It grinned right up until the moment it felt Felix''s foot plant into its stomach. The thing flew back and smacked hard against the wall with a loud THUD, dropping the gear. For a moment, they were both stunned, motionless. I hit it? Felix thought as the frightened creature scrambled into the wall and didn''t return. Felix looked around, he was alone. He sighed, and went over to pick up the gear. Then, as he returned to his desk, he tripped and fell hard on his face. "Ow." He whined as blood trickled from his nose, then he looked to see what had tripped him. That had been his favorite wrench. He rested his sore head on the cold stone. ¡°Lucky charm my ass.¡± He must have fallen asleep because next thing he knew, he was lying face up on a much more comfortable surface. Another new bandage on his nose and an ice pack being carefully applied to his sore forehead. He heard someone humming the tune to a lullaby that helped him to sleep when the spirits haunted even his dreams. ¡°Mom?¡± Felix croaked. ¡°You gave me quite a scare, my lucky charm, I found you facedown in a pool of blood.¡± His mother responded with a worried, yet warm tone. Felix opened his eyes and found he was on the couch in his workshop, his head on her lap. He took a moment to study his mother''s face. Heidi Magwhy was younger than she looked, only 35, but crow''s feet, smile and worry lines marked her years. Felix shared her rusty red hair, though hers was speckled with white. Her eyes were brown, in contrast to his own eyes of violet.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. His eyes tracked over to the wrench still buried in the floor and Heidi followed his gaze. ¡°It happened again-¡± he choked. ¡°I know.¡± Heidi cooed, petting his hair reassuringly. ¡°Why do they come after me mom? Anytime I show up, they lose interest in whoever they were bothering before and come after me.¡± Felix felt tears welling up in his eyes, but he didn''t care. ¡°Felix, look at me.¡± She urged, and he slowly obeyed, ¡°you''re a special boy, you''re my lucky charm.¡± Heidi cracked her trademark smile that seemed to make her look 10 years younger. It had always brightened Felix''s mood before and he tried to smile too, but couldn''t. ¡°You can see things others can''t, and¡­¡± She hesitated, looking at his eyes. ¡°You have the ability to help others in ways most people can''t imagine. The spirits¡­ oh I don''t know. My grandmother, your great grandmother, she would''ve known how to explain. She used to see them too.¡± Felix sighed, but a thought occurred that lightened his spirits. ¡°Mom, I kicked it.¡± He carefully announced, watching his mother''s reaction. She smiled, looking unsurprised, but relieved. ¡°I mean it set itself up,¡± he fumbled ¡°but-¡± ¡°But you can defend yourself against them.¡± Heidi finished. ¡°My lucky charm, one day you will be much more than mine.¡± She beamed proudly. Felix couldn''t help it. He broke into a smile and carefully sat up and hugged her tightly. ¡°Thank you mom.¡± ¡°Of course. Now, it is well past dinner time and I haven''t even started making it yet. Can you stand?¡± Heidi asked, and Felix shakily got to his feet. ¡°Good, now go clean up, and then come help me. It should go faster if we work together.¡± She stood, fussed over Felix''s overalls and then hustled off to the kitchen. Felix looked around the workshop, located the gear that the spirit had taken hostage, pocketed it, eyed the wrench one more time, then followed Heidi out. Felix scrubbed at the grime that might as well have become a second layer of skin. He''d never remove it all, and honestly he was fine with that, but his mother always insisted he stayed a clean and proper gentleman. A gentleman. Felix looked at his reflection in the shiny plate of steel that acted as a mirror and smiled. He used some of the grease he hadn¡¯t washed away yet to style his hair like some famous businessman like Galleleo Goldhand, or a man of high office like the Chief Inquisitior. He looked ridiculous, like he had a dead tarantula curling up on his head, but it made him laugh. He laughed, still inspecting his reflection, the bandages and bruises all over from various accidents and assaults by the creatures that haunted this world. He laughed till he saw his eyes and his mirth died. Violet eyes. The unlucky color, the worst color, he''d never met anyone else with eyes the color of the Solshard on the darkest days. The days when the spirits were restless. He looked out the window at the enormous life-giving crystal that served as the major light source for the cavernous country of Sterling. The Solshard looked like the root of a massive crystalline tree. It sprouted out of the cave roof that served as the only sky the people of Sterling had known for dozens, if not hundreds of generations. The Solshard twisted and branched out every few miles, like roots searching for water, before the main stem burrowed into the middle of the distant capital city of Luster. Luster, the first city of Sterling Cavern, that had sprung up around the base of the Solshard centuries ago. The Solshard was currently shining blue, the first half of the day Azyrm-pad. It would shine indigo on the latter half, and after that¡­ Felix shuddered at the thought. Tomorrow was technically the shortest day of the cycle, only 13 hours as opposed to the 26 hours of the other three, but it always felt the longest. He''d get a lot of work done, staying inside, if he could drag himself out of bed. Everyone stayed inside on Drusk-pad. If only the spirits would stay out. A gentleman? No. No gentleman has Violet eyes. ¡°Lucky Charm,¡± Heidi called, shaking Felix from his thoughts, ¡°I thought you were helping me with this, are you done admiring yourself in the mirror?¡± Felix blushed profusely, washed the grease out of his hair and ran to the kitchen. Chapter 4: Mariana Iron clashed against steel as Dugalo took an offensive lead. Mariana half-sworded her blade for better mobility, focusing solely on defense and expending as little energy as possible. Dugalo released a flurry of attacks that made Mariana''s head spin, though she wasn''t sure if it was his absurd speed or her concussion. Crack! Dugalo''s pistol hit her chin, causing half of Mariana''s face to go numb, but she held steady. She tripled the speed of her healing for a few seconds before dropping it back to double, it drained energy, but it cleared her head. You can''t block all of them, She thought, not in the state you¡¯re in, focus on deflecting the attacks that will kill you. Her eye caught the flash of a steel knife and Mariana knocked the hand away with the pommel of her sword. She was moving too slowly, why hadn''t she fully healed yet? She''d only fallen off a building. She couldn''t let anyone find out about that, she''d never live it down. Focus! Her instincts pulled her out of her thoughts and threw her back onto the battlefield just as Dugalo broke her guard, throwing her off balance. He pivoted backwards and aimed his pistol. Mariana dove forward to knock it out of his outstretched hand with a slash of her sword. Dugalo grinned as she did so. Where was his left hand? Behind him. He was going to windmill his arms as she knocked the pistol away to stab her in the shoulder or neck. Which direction would it come? Top? Right? Didn''t matter. Mariana shifted the trajectory of her blade so she''d knock the pistol in the opposite direction that he wanted. Even if he spun into a stab on her left side, he''d leave his back open for a second. A second longer than anyone ever should. She made contact and the pistol flew away. She had hi- He spun. Spun faster than he had any right to. Mariana had less than a quarter of a second to guard her left. She didn''t have the speed. She lifted her arm just enough to block her neck. Pain exploded in her forearm where the blade hit her. She focused on durability, stiffening her skin and muscles tight around the knife, then wrenched her arm free, ripping the knife from Dugalo''s grasp. He was stunned for a second at what she''d done. A second was all Mariana needed. She doubled her strength and planted a foot directly into Dugalo''s abdomen. He flew back to the entrance of the alleyway and rolled into the street. Mariana removed her cloak to reveal the Crimson uniform of an inquisitor, then followed and made sure he was breathing. He had a few broken ribs, a bruised abdomen and a serious road rash on his back, but he seemed fine, already healing. Mariana checked her pockets, the salt chalk had been pulverized by the fall into pocket-sand, alongside a small black box filled with coils and crystals that she couldn''t make heads or tails of. It was an inquisitor¡¯s communicator, standard issue when working in the field. Her head started hurting again when she thought of all the paperwork she would have to do to get a new one, not to mention her failed surveillance assignment, and, She looked down at the crumpled form of Dugalo, the arrest report. She found what she was looking for in a different pocket. A pair of wooden handcuffs that were infused with the element of steel. Why they had to waste precious wood making these, she''d never know, but they were light and flexible, and thanks to the infusion, they had the durability of steel. A crowd had started to form, but as soon as they saw Inquisitor crimson, they went about their day. She reached down and, as she started cuffing Dugalo, she announced the charges: ¡°Citizen Dugalo, you are under arrest for the knowing and willing assault of an Inquisitor. In the name of the Inquisition, and by the power invested onto me to uphold peace and justice, I, Deputy Inquisitor Cross, shall declare your sentence to be 7 seasons in Inquisition custody. If any around me deem this sentence unjust, speak now and lay your case.¡± Mariana waited out of protocol. Nobody objected. No one ever did. Once an Inquisitor announced the charges, a person would have to argue a case in front of an audience of their peers. A person would need an Inquisitor¡¯s level of knowledge in law to stand a chance in a fight for the sentence, and if they were unlucky, the arresting Inquisitor could arrest them on suspicion of being an accomplice. Mariana assessed herself for damage, she was mostly healed now, minus the knife wound, but was already feeling exhausted. Healing always took the most energy, and if you didn''t have enough energy during the process, you might heal improperly, causing a permanent fault. She looked at the knife, she couldn''t leave it in there, but could she heal properly? That was the risk. Mariana braced herself mentally, then relaxed her durability and carefully removed the knife. It had gone deep, but thankfully not through. She considered the owner of the knife, particularly his hygiene, and doubled the power of her immune system, before tripling both the efficiency of her healing and it''s speed. It would be fixed in a few minutes, but after that, she was out of juice. No more Soul Magnum for a Sol-Cycle. She thought, pocketing Dugalo''s weapons and dragging him to his feet. She looked back to the alleyway to find it empty of the other vagabonds. ¡°Loyal friends of yours. Remember, try to escape and I do have the authority to kill you.¡± Mariana muttered just loud enough for him to hear. As they shuffled towards the Inquisition head office, Dugalo didn''t respond, she wasn''t sure if he was conscious enough to hear her until he said. ¡°You look young. Bet you''ve never killed in your life.¡± ¡°I''m 24, thank you very much, what does age have to do with it?¡± She responded flippantly. ¡°It''s not the age of the body. It''s the age of the soul. Killing ages you, weighs on you. It''s not something you can recover from.¡± Dugalo murmured, still dazed, yet quite lucid. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°You''ve killed?¡± Mariana asked, she shouldn''t be indulging this, but there was something she had to know. ¡°Yes.¡± Dugalo sagged, as if the word alone had weighed down his soul. ¡°You shouldn''t take another life so lightly.¡± ¡°Noted.¡± Mariana said, then after a lull in the conversation, ¡°Your speech cleared up.¡± ¡°Was a good fight, you sobered me up, nice trick with the arm.¡± Dugalo chuckled, but his heart wasn''t in it. ¡°I think it was more than the fight. You''ve done a lot of healing within the last few minutes, must have purged your blood.¡± Mariana ventured, but Dugalo didn''t respond. ¡°Dugalo, how are you able to use Soul Magnum?¡± Dugalo hesitated before responding. ¡°You don''t want to know. You really don''t.¡± ¡°Dugalo I have to know.¡± ¡°If you know¡­ if I say it¡­ you¡¯ll have to report it.¡± Dugalo answered, his voice quivering. ¡°Then it''ll be a bad day for the both of us.¡± ¡°Dugalo-¡± ¡°You aren''t gonna let me go, so hurry up and hand me over, before you¡¯re the one responsible for changing and carrying out my sentence.¡± He snarled, more to end that topic of conversation than display any actual aggression. With that, Dugalo turned and his eyes burrowed deep into Mariana''s. A person''s eyes were said to be the windows to the soul, and could tell you a lot about a person, if you knew how to read them. Dugalo''s eyes were filled with a storm of tumultuous emotions. Not unusual, no one ever had just one emotion writhing inside them at once, but what attracted Mariana''s attention, was hints of defeat, like a battle had been waged in his head and it didn''t matter what side he''d been on. He''d lost. ¡°Little advice from an old man who''s been around the block, remember what I said about killing.¡± With that, he slumped and spoke no more. They shuffled into the corrections building, Dugalo notably kept his head down, his messy graying hair covering a majority of his face. They arrived at the front desk to find a bored, shaggy Inquisitor, whose uniform black hair had started looking like its natural sandy blond. He wasn''t paying attention to them, instead looking through a binder of trading cards. Mariana recognized the game they came from, it was popular among the younger Inquisitors and school children. She cleared her throat. The Inquisitor might have leapt higher out of his chair if his knees hadn''t caught the desk. ¡°Ow!¡± He sweeped the cards off the desk and out of sight. ¡°I-I mean how can I help you?¡± ¡°Relax Charlie, just me,¡± Mariana cooed, ¡°but don''t let Sarge catch you doing that, and touch up your roots a bit, your blond is showing.¡± ¡°Oh, thanks Mariana,¡± Charlie sighed, running a hand through his hair, then getting a better look, ¡°Wow¡­ you look like¡­¡± ¡°Yeah I feel like it.¡± Then gesturing to Dugalo, who tensed in anticipation, she reported, ¡°Citizen Dugalo, Charged with the knowing and willing assault on an Inquisitor, sentence is 7 seasons of containment. Do you find this sentence unjust?¡± ¡°I do not, the sentence stands.¡± As Charlie responded procedurally, Dugalo¡¯s tension subsided. Charlie handed Mariana a small stack of paperwork. ¡°Just fill this out, and you are good to go. Did he really do all that?¡± Mariana let out a quiet groan of annoyance as she took the papers. ¡°Most of it has healed already,¡± She answered, then added, ¡°He broke my communicator, do you have the paper for that?¡± Dugalo gave her a side eye at the accusation, but smirked, looking a lot less stressed now. ¡°Dang, I don''t, that''s at equipment issue,¡± Charlie said, and pressed a button that called for two guards to come by and pick up the new prisoner. ¡°Well thanks anyway, I-¡± ¡°Deputy Inquisitor Cross.¡± A loud, yet flat voice called from behind her, causing her to wince. ¡°I believe I assigned you to surveillance, not patrol.¡± Sargent Montague waddled up to the desk which was inches from overtaking him in height. He wheezed as he came to a stop, his waistline must have grown three inches since she''d last seen him. That was this morning. ¡°Sargent, I observed the deal and gave chase as instructed, but when I came down to street level, this Citizen obstructed me.¡± ¡°Why didn''t you avoid him? Why didn''t you call for backup.¡± The Sargent burbled. ¡°My communicator was destroyed in the altercation. I couldn''t-¡± ¡°Excuses. File your reports and get out of my sight.¡± The Sargent turned and began waddling back towards his office. Mariana stood there, stunned. By this time, the guards had come to collect Dugalo. ¡°Th-that¡¯s it?¡± She was stunned by his leniency. Dugalo chuckled, drawing Mariana''s attention, and mouthed something that only she noticed. Thank you. A guard returned Mariana¡¯s handcuffs that they had swapped for stone shackles and began guiding him away. Mariana watched them go till they passed through the doors to the cells and disappeared. Thank you? Mariana thought, What could he be thanking me for? She grabbed her papers and wandered over to a bench. Assaulting an Inquisitor is a crime with a serious punishment. Not as serious as desertion. Desertion, no matter the reason, was an executable offense if you got caught. It was usually enough to dissuade most from walking away. But there were a few who just couldn''t cope. Soul Magnum was a powerful tool that the Inquisition highly regulated. The citizens were encouraged to believe that the superhuman abilities of the Inquisitors came from Inquisitor training, which wasn''t entirely true. Technically anyone could use Soul Magnum if they learned, but you would have to have both grueling training, and natural talent to be able to have any substantial power. Half of the point of the aptitude tests in the academy was to screen for potential new recruits who met the physical, as well as psychological necessities. This included a high potential in Soul Magnum and all of this happened while they were still young enough to be indoctrinated into the Inquisition. The other half of the reason for the tests was to sieve out witches. Mariana rubbed her temples in an attempt to dissipate her already growing headache, she took one look at the stack of paperwork, eyed Charlie, who looked over and gave a shrug that said. As long as it''s done and on my desk by tomorrow, I don''t care. She nodded thankfully in response before grabbing her things and heading home. Chapter 5: 17 Time flew, and over the next few Sol-Cycles, Doctor Oswin kept 17 moving between a testing room, a medical facility, and what was essentially a storage locker that acted as its sleeping quarters. Doctor Oswin didn''t always attend to 17, she occasionally left on long journeys and left it in the care of the other scientists and doctors that kept the facility running. 17 didn''t sleep, it merely sat and thought, and as it spent more time alive, it accumulated more thoughts and memories to accompany it. The others seemed to want 17 to try and make his own glowing lights, Spirits they called them. Doctor Oswin would show it several kinds of spirits each day and talk about each of their unique abilities and appetites. They were found all around the world, but usually could only be seen when they wanted to be seen. Witches, however, like Doctor Oswin and Capulet could see them all the time and even bend them into service. 17¡¯s thoughts drifted to the Glyph spirit that almost perpetually lived in 17¡¯s head now. According to Doctor Oswin, it gave the host the ability to understand what others were saying and in return it fed off peace derived from understanding. An odd appetite, but 17 wasn''t one to judge, it didn''t seem to require any sustenance. Something it only started to question while observing the lab assistants on something they called a ¡°lunch break.¡± Doctor Oswin didn''t eat, neither did Capulet, or at least they never did when 17 was observing. Were witches able to sustain themselves on emotions like spirits did? ¡°17!¡± Doctor Oswin called. She sounded exasperated, or was it annoyed? 17¡¯s eyes focused on her. ¡°17 where is your head? I''ve been calling your name for the past 5 minutes.¡± ¡°Food.¡± 17 simply rumbled. Doctor Oswin blinked, her expression morphing from agitation to confusion, then intrigue. ¡°Are you¡­ hungry?¡± Doctor Oswin asked hesitantly. ¡°Hungry?¡± 17 asked. It hadn''t heard this word before, but the glyph went to work defining it. ¡°No. 17 not hungry. Doctor Oswin hungry?¡± ¡°I''m¡­ no, I''m not hungry. I ate a while ago.¡± Doctor Oswin said, an eyebrow raised at the direction of this conversation. ¡°You eat?¡± 17 asked, an uncharacteristic note of surprise in its voice caused her to do something 17 had never seen before. She threw her head back and a loud sound erupted from her parted lips. 17 flinched in surprise and reflexively took a step back. The glyph wasn''t any help in defining this action. She sounded almost like she was screaming, but her expression looked positive. She eventually calmed down, a smile on her face. ¡°Yes, I eat. I don''t do it while I''m working¡­ Now what''s with that expression?¡± ¡°Loud. Happy?¡± 17 rumbled. Doctor Oswin grinned, and tugged on its elbow, then said. ¡°That is called laughing. It''s something you do when excited, happy, or surprised, but it''s generally positive. Now come on, I want to run a few more tests on your emotional spectrum.¡± ¡°Today, we''re testing your fear.¡± Doctor Oswin instructed. 17 was shackled to a hard stone chair with those same wooden shackles it''d seen on its first day. It tested them curiously, they were pretty light but 17 couldn''t move more than a few inches. It tried to relax, but something about the scenario made 17 uncomfortable. Doctor Oswin called forth a blue flame and held it inches from 17¡¯s nose. It gave off no heat, but 17 could feel it tugging on its emotions, drawing out its paranoia, its fear. 17 tried focusing on what it could remember about this spirit. Focusing on anything other than the fact that Doctor Oswin was coaxing it towards 17 and it had no way to escape. The flame was growing larger with 17¡¯s reaction, a purple tendril licked 17¡¯s cheek and it bellowed in pain, jerking away. It planted its feet and leaned back hard, straining against its bonds, producing a loud CRACK from behind it. Its eyes flicked over to Doctor Oswin, her face a mask, blank of emotion. She was testing it, but this wasn¡¯t about how much 17 could feel fear. She wanted what she always wanted. A witch.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. This was a test and 17 wasn''t in any real danger. Doctor Oswin wouldn''t actually let it get hurt, right? 17 regarded the spirit anew, and drew out its archived memories, forcing its breathing to steady. It knew what this was, it knew where the fear was coming from and it knew it was safe. This was a will o¡¯wisp, one of the many spirits with a lure, and one that fed on fear. 17 began focusing on a different emotion, curiosity, letting its academic mind diffuse its fear. 17 observed the will o¡¯wisp deflate as its food supply was cut off, and smiled. 17¡¯s eyes flicked back over to Doctor Oswin who now wore a slight smile of her own. ¡°Good.¡± She cooed, ¡°Now command it. Promise a tasty reward after completing a task.¡± 17 nodded, and observed the will o¡¯wisp again. Go that way, it thought, and 17 let you eat more fear. For a few seconds nothing happened, then that same nothing continued to happen. 17 frowned and tried again, and again, nothing. ¡°Move.¡± it rumbled aloud, frustrated, ¡°Go that way.¡± It pointed with a finger towards the far wall. No response. 17 let some fear out, and observed the will o¡¯wisp swell as it fed, then 17 let frustration swallow its fear, and watched the spirit deflate slowly. It repeated this process a few times, noting that Doctor Oswin was observing its actions closely. ¡°Your emotional control is good,¡± Doctor Oswin began, ¡°Let¡¯s focus on that for now. Substituting fear with frustration is a start, but you may start dealing with more than one kind of spirit. Instead of risking feeding another spirit, kill your emotions so they have nothing to feed on.¡± She instructed. 17 hesitantly nodded and one by one, tried smothering its emotions. Fear alone was difficult, so it tried replacing it with a presumably easier to control emotion. Annoyance. When it thought about it, it was remarkably easy to get annoyed at everything. These chains were too tight. 17 couldn''t seem to grasp this test. Why wouldn''t the spirit obey? Did it even hear 17? 17 felt a bit of joy at how easy it was to build this emotion, then remembered the assignment and drowned the feeling in annoyance. Why was it so easy to feel, so difficult to not? ¡°Are you even trying?¡± Doctor Oswin snapped, ¡°You are just building your emotions! Killing them isn''t that difficult of a concept!¡± 17 flung itself back in fear, and heard another crack from the stone chair. The will o¡¯wisp roared in Doctor Oswin¡¯s hand at 17¡¯s fear so she flicked her wrist and threw it to the side. The spirit¡¯s flames seemed to snuff from existence as it left Doctor Oswin¡¯s fingers. She grabbed the wooden chains keeping 17¡¯s torso locked to the chair and brought her face nose to nose with 17. Her violet eyes were filled with fury, then, nothing. She gave an unnerving smile and released 17. ¡°See?¡± She asked, ¡°Easy as that.¡± She turned and, click click click, strode away. ¡°That''s enough for today.¡± She called over her shoulder, then pointed at an observation window where a nearby door opened, and a lab assistant, Otis, hesitantly appeared. Doctor Oswin tossed the keys to him and left through the main door. Otis hurried over to unlock 17 as soon as the door closed. ¡°Your mom scares the shit out of me.¡± He commented as he unlocked the shackles on 17¡¯s arms. ¡°Mom?¡± 17 asked, that was a new word. ¡°Definition?¡± Otis blanched as he moved onto the torso chains, his oversized mitts fumbling with the lock. ¡°Oh, you know,¡± Otis stammered, ¡°the one who makes you and raised you and loves you- um¡­ maybe not that last part.¡± ¡°Loves?¡± 17 asked, another new word, it was learning so much today. Otis stumbled over himself, he was uncomfortable for some reason. CRASH!! As Otis released the final torso shackle, the stone back of the chair fell and shattered on the ground. Otis screamed and leapt from where he''d been crouching. ¡°I''ll clean it!¡± He shouted a little too loudly and to nobody in particular. The room was empty save for the two of them. Before either one said anymore, he barreled out of the room, the door slamming behind him. 17 blinked, looked down and noticed its feet were shackled. It sat for a few moments, boredom seeping in, then picked up one of the fallen shackles. Otis had used a few different keys, but he''d taken those with him. 17 sighed, then let its curiosity take over. Using a hardened fingernail as a rudimentary screwdriver, it began disassembling the lock. Chapter 6: Felix Felix was finishing up the old clock as he heard the knock on his workshop door. He snatched up some goggles and put them on to obscure his eyes. He then quickly polished the glass of the 13 hour clock face, and checked the Sol-Cycle dial, all 7 colors showed clearly, with the needle pointing to yellow. This Sol-Cycle had been fantastic! Ever since the spirit incident last Azyrm-pad, he''d gotten so much done and hadn''t seen a single spirit. That had never happened before. Felix whistled a jaunty tune as he went over and threw open the door to see the elderly Mrs. Tolecnal waiting. ¡°Hello Mrs. Tolecnal, you''re right on time. I''m just doing a bit of touching up and then it''s ready for you.¡± Felix¡¯s grin was as bright as the Solshard itself. Mrs. Tolecnal shifted uncomfortably, her yellow eyes sifting through what she could see of the workshop. ¡°Yes, yes, hello.¡± She said, now inspecting the young craftsman, eyes lingering on the goggles. Felix, oblivious, invited the customer inside and guided her to the couch. He then zipped over to his workbench before returning with the clock and placing it on the small coffee table in front of the old woman. ¡°All that''s left to do is to set the time and wind it up. Would you like to do the honors?¡± Felix asked excitedly. Mrs. Tolecnal sniffed dismissively in response, inspecting the work. ¡°So what was wrong with it?¡± She asked. Felix, wind slowly draining from his sails, began fiddling with a small screwdriver he''d retrieved from his belt. ¡°Oh, you know, old clock like this, a tension wire needed tightening and a few of the gears in the matrix were sticking. Needed to be greased up or else they''d start rusting.¡± It wasn''t entirely false, Felix had indeed worked on those issues, but the tension wire had been cut, not loose, and those gears had been fused in the same way that the end of his favorite wrench had become a permanent fixture on his workshop floor. But he never bothered his customer''s with the weird details. As necessary as some spirits are to life in Stirling, most, if not all spirits were troublemakers and pests, and people generally hated being reminded of their existence. Not so easy around here though. Felix lived in the small farming village known as Lunalumos, where the fields were deathly quiet, they needed to be. Woe to anyone who disturbed the serenity of the fields. ¡°So just age, hm?¡± Mrs. Tolecnal asked, suspiciously eyeing the clock, then shifting her gaze back to Felix''s goggles. ¡°Nothing else?¡± Felix was starting to get uncomfortable now. ¡°Like what?¡± Felix asked, the idle fidgeting of his hands became more erratic, so as subtly as he could, Felix slipped his hands into his pockets. ¡°Like spirits.¡± Mrs. Tolecnal accused. ¡°Spirits?¡± Felix chuckled nervously, ¡°Why would the spirits be messing with an old clock, they like to stay in the fields, right?¡± ¡°I''m an old woman. I''ve seen many things; The Solshard¡¯s light cease for an entire Sol-Cycle; The red cloaked who fight spirits and perform unnatural feats of speed and strength; ¡­Violet eyes¡­¡± She trailed off, never breaking eye contact. She rose, reaching into her handbag. ¡°Is your mother home?¡± Felix backpedaled into his workbench, she began to approach. ¡°Ma''am you''re making me uncomfortable,¡± He quivered, working his way to the door ¡°You need to leave.¡± ¡°Take off the goggles boy, I know what you are.¡± Mrs. Tolecnal demanded, her voice as sweet as acid. ¡°I''ll deliver your clock tomorrow, free of charge,¡± Felix bargained, making it to the door and began fumbling with the knob. ¡°I''ve had my suspicions about you ever since that wench of a mother of yours moved the both of you back here.¡± She crooned. The fear in Felix was quickly bubbling and boiling into anger. This was his workshop, what right did she have to come in here and intimidate him. ¡°Don¡¯t you DARE call my mother a wench!¡± He screamed, hand firmly on the doorknob now. ¡°They aren''t always invisible, spirits, I saw it making a mess of that old clock and knew I could trick you into revealing who you really are.¡± Mrs. Tolecnal cackled, ¡°Where did you hide it, Witch? Did you add it to your collection?¡± She was within arm''s reach now and revealed from her handbag, a smaller bag on a decently long rope. This new bag was held closed with and was embroidered by a silver string that formed a symbol Felix had never seen before. ¡°Get out!¡± Felix wrenched open the door, grabbed the old woman''s arm, and yanked her out the door. Before he could get her all the way out, she flicked her wrist and began spinning the bag by its rope. The rope wrapped around Felix''s arm, and just as he pushed her out, the bag smacked into his arm. A sensation of pain like he''d never felt before flared up his arm and throughout the rest of his body. The old croon cackled and willingly walked out as Felix screamed and dropped to the floor. It felt like someone was pressing a white hot dagger into each of the backs of his eyes. ¡°I''m old but I''ve still got it.¡± The hag congratulated herself. ¡°You''re marked now, they''ll be coming for you, just as they came for all of your kind.¡± Felix pried open his tear-filled eyes to inspect his arm. A burn mark, a shape just like the bag that was still wrapped around his arm. A brand. ¡°What did I ever do to you, you old hag!¡± Felix cried, his goggles were filling up with so many tears he could barely see. ¡°What a ridiculous question.¡± Mrs. Tolecnal scoffed, shuffling away. ¡°It''s not about what you''ve done, but what you could do. Keep the clock, Witch, it''ll help you count down the last seconds you have in these caves.¡± And with that, she was gone. There were others in the street. Watching. Felix squirmed back inside and slammed the door, then sat up as best he could and leaned on it to keep it closed. Painfully, Felix reached up and locked the door, then just sat there, cradling his arm. Felix knew pain; He''d been tormented by spirits since he was a baby. But this pain, this brand, was worse than all of them put together. How could he be a Witch? Witches were monsters from campfire stories who could bend spirits to their will. Those who tormented the Tidal caverns long ago, before the Inquisition had been founded. If they had existed at all, they should be extinct by now. There was a knock on the door. Felix flinched awake. When had he fallen asleep? This was a terrible time to sleep. The knock came again. Could it be Mom? No. She has a key. She would have gone through the house. Is it Mrs. Tolecnal again? His eyes found the silver embroidered bag where it was still wrapped around his arm. Let''s see how she likes it. Felix thought bitterly. Careful not to touch the bag, he removed the rope and moved to look up under the curtains that covered the door¡¯s window. It was a muscular woman with emerald green hair. She had scars and burns covering her face, and was wearing dark glasses and an obsidian black cloak that obscured the rest of her form. ¡°Are you Felix Magwhy?¡± She called through the door. ¡°Who''s asking?¡± Felix ducked out of the curtain and backed away. ¡°A friend, if you let me in. A teacher, if you hear me out. An enemy, if you ignore my request.¡± She said, calm, calculated, cold. Felix hesitated. That sounded like a threat if he''d ever heard one. ¡°I''d hurry up if I were you, the towns abuzz about the little Witch mechanic, how long do you think it''d take for an Inquisitor to hear.¡± Her words tap danced on the fear centers of Felix''s brain. ¡°I''m not a Witch!¡± He shouted, not sure who he was trying to convince more, her, or himself. ¡°Of course you aren''t.¡± The woman cooed. ¡°Not yet, and yet there''s a chance you''ll never be.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± Felix felt around for something heavy and found the remains of his wrench that he''d gone through three saws and a hammer to remove from the floor. He hefted it, but the branded arm could barely grip the heavy lunk of metal. ¡°Let me in, boy.¡± Felix felt the cord of the silver embroidered bag. She thinks I could be a Witch, and talks about being a teacher to me. If this hurt me, could it hurt her the same way? He thought as he gave the bag an experimental swing. It was worth a shot if she got violent like Mrs. Tolecnal. He hid the bag in his tool belt, just within reach. ¡°Alright, I''m going to unlock the door,¡± He announced. ¡°No need,¡± a black obsidian spike reached under the door, and rose like a sentient shadow till it found the door knob. With a ker-chink, the door unlocked and swung open, revealing the witch. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Click click click, She strode in on crimson high heels that had no heels, giving her the impression of walking on her tiptoes through a puddle of blood. Felix''s mind reeled, red was the color of the inquisition, and she was no inquisitor. The door closed and locked behind her as she made her way over to the couch. She sat down without hesitation, as if it was her house and Felix was the uninvited guest. The woman inspected the workshop, giving Mrs. Tolecnal¡¯s clock a critical eye. That same shadowy tendril emerged from the woman''s obsidian black cloak, no, it was her cloak. It retrieved the clock, holding it aloft in front of her face without the woman lifting a finger. Then the tendril developed several fingers of its own and began setting and winding the clock before placing it back on the coffee table and disappearing back into the rest of the cloak. ¡°It''s good craftsmanship, you don''t have any spirits to assist you?¡± ¡°N-no¡­ ma¡¯am.¡± Felix cringed. ¡°Seems introductions are in order Mr. Magwhy, my name is Doctor Oswin,¡± she introduced. ¡°Just call me Felix.¡± ¡°Very well. I assume you have questions, proceed.¡± ¡°How do you know my name?¡± He asked, clutching his brand nervously. ¡°A scared Gremlin pointed me this way, and I¡­persuaded one of your neighbors to tell me about you. I''m guessing you''ve noticed the lack of spirits recently.¡± She explained in a way that was so matter of fact, Felix almost thought she was talking about something less serious, like the weather. ¡°You''ve been watching me all Sol-Cycle?¡± Felix asked, horrified, reaching slowly for the silver bag. ¡°Almost. I couldn''t have known how powerful you were, it could have been a trap. I had to verify my options before I proceeded. Then I saw your debacle with the old woman, and I thought: ¡®There¡¯s no way a practiced Witch would leave a witness like that. He must be a novice.¡¯ So I decided to introduce myself.¡± She smiled. It wasn''t a warm smile. Not like his mother''s. It was the smile of someone who''d heard a smile could be calming and reassuring, but had no idea that you have to try to be calming and reassuring while smiling, otherwise the smile has the opposite of the intended effect. ¡°Did you kill her?¡± Felix asked, hoping for one answer and dreading another, but for the life of him, couldn''t figure out which was which. Oswin laughed in response. ¡°No, she''s your problem, not mine, we aren''t even technically allies yet. She branded you, yes?¡± Felix nodded, revealing the burn. ¡°Nasty.¡± She wrinkled her nose as if she could smell the burning flesh from where she sat. ¡°Stay away from iron, salt, and especially silver, or else you might start looking like this.¡± She gestured to the scars on her face and hands. ¡°If we aren''t allies, then why are you here?¡± Felix asked. Oswin sat and thought for a moment to find the right words. ¡°Think of this as good sportsmanship, a peace conference if you will. We witches are a rare breed, but most of the time, when we meet unexpectedly, expect a fight with many casualties. Keep that thought in mind. I''m a reasonable woman, I''m fine with giving up the chance to sneak attack as long as the person I''m warning has absolutely no chance of harming me.¡± ¡°What makes you think I''m a Witch?¡± Felix asked, then quickly added, ¡°Other than the Gremlin. What''s a Gremlin?¡± ¡°I''ll answer the second question first. It''s a type of spirit known for reaching into machines and fusing pieces together so it breaks. I believe you''re quite familiar with these considering your profession.¡± As Oswin explained, Felix remembered the spirit he''d dealt with last Sol-Cycle. They were the most common spirit he ran into. It happened so often in fact, that he wasn''t sure if it was a group of them, or just one who''d decided to make Felix''s life a playground of agony. ¡°As for your first question, take off your goggles.¡± Oswin said, reaching for her own glasses. Felix''s eyes widened as Oswin''s cold Violet stare met his still obscured eyes. He quickly removed his goggles, and then there they were. Two witches. ¡°They say your mother has brown eyes, but that you always cover yours. It''s understandable. Witchcraft is hereditary, but it''s so rare because it often skips a generation or two. You must have an ancestor who had it, otherwise you wouldn''t get it.¡± ¡°My great-grandmother¡­¡± Felix whispered, understanding now. ¡°Impressive generational gap, but that''ll do it.¡± She mused. ¡°Wh-what are spirits?¡± Felix asked. Oswin paused, then said, ¡°I''ve answered enough questions, it''s time you answered mine. I''ve need for a new Witch. I can train you, feed you and protect you if you join my coven. Will you join me?¡± ¡°My mother-¡± Felix started. ¡°Can''t defend you from the Inquisition.¡± ¡°And you can?¡± ¡°I have friends in high places, so quite easily.¡± Felix paused before his next question. ¡°Will I see her again?¡± ¡°Align yourself with me and I can guarantee you will.¡± ¡°If I don''t?¡± Felix asked, and with a cold smirk almost mirroring Oswin''s, added ¡°just verifying my options before proceeding.¡± Oswin returned the expression with one at least 50¡ã colder. ¡°I could kill you here and now, or leave you to be hunted by Inquisitors. I can''t guarantee which death will be quicker; the Inquisitors want information, want to end your bloodline by killing you and anyone you could possibly be related to. Meanwhile I¡­¡± She paused, stroking the obsidian black cloak as if it were a cat. It began slipping away from her shoulders and coalesced in her palm, taking the shape of a warped and almost life-like guillotine. ¡°I have a Wraith to feed. Quite useful spirits they are,¡± It began almost dancing on her palm. Its suspension boards flapping like wings, and its rope and blade, that seemed to act like a neck and head respectively, wrapped around and nuzzled Oswin''s arm affectionately. The blade cut her slightly and Oswin didn''t even react. She continued to stare into Felix''s eyes like she was trying to melt his brain by aiming through his retinas. ¡°They can take any shape you like and in return, all they need to feed on is pain. The perfect torture device, don''t you think?¡± Felix swallowed hard. ¡°Good to know¡­ h-has it been feeding well already?¡± Felix tried to ask conversationally. ¡°Oh yes, it has quite enjoyed the pain of your burn. It was actually what notified me what was happening to you. This little glutton-¡± she grabbed the Wraith off her arm and crushed it forcefully into the shape of a sphere. ¡°-almost flew off without me to get a better taste.¡± ¡°Any chance it''s full?¡± Felix asked hopefully. ¡°Oh no, spirits don''t get full, they just get bigger and more powerful.¡± She lounged, folding and morphing the wraith like clay, ¡°Now. What is your answer? Come with me, or die a gruesome death.¡± ¡°I-I think the answer is obvious.¡± ¡°As do I.¡± ¡°Can I say goodbye to my mom before we leave?¡± ¡°Of course. You have at most an hour till the local branch of the Inquisition is on your doorstep. I''ll give you 20 minutes starting now.¡± ¡°Will she be safe while I''m gone?¡± ¡°I promise nothing, but if she is smart, she will stay alive.¡± Oswin asserted, then pulled out a flat black box. Felix recognized it as an Inquisitor''s communicator, but something was different. The coiled antenna was significantly shorter and it looked like the chassis of the communicator had been hastily cut open, then clumsily glued back together. Oswin spoke into the box: ¡°Bring her in.¡± The side door to the kitchen opened and quickly closed, but not before a feminine figure had been pushed through. She had her hands tied and a bag over her head. Felix''s blood boiled, he forgot the pain in his arm and ran over to the woman. Removing the bag, his suspicions were confirmed. Heidi¡¯s expression flashed from fear to wrath, her mouth gagged with a handkerchief, then her eyes focused on the face of her son, and melted into an expression of relief yet worry. Felix spun on Oswin, his own wrath reforged. ¡°YOU B-¡± he shouted, but Oswin cut him off. ¡°Insurance, in case you didn''t want to comply,¡± Her cold glare quenching Felix''s fires of rebellion. ¡°You should be grateful I tracked her down so quickly for you. 19 minutes.¡± Felix hesitated, his mother rested her hands on his shoulder and, after a moment, he stuffed his anger into a closet for later. Felix turned back to Heidi, a new set of emotions overtaking him. ¡°Mom¡­¡± Felix croaked, tears began streaming down his face as he removed the handkerchief. ¡°I know,¡± Heidi hushed him gently, fussing over his clothes and hair like she was preparing him for school. She managed to keep a mask of joy and pride as she looked over him, only slipping into uncharacteristic hatred when she located the brand on his inner forearm. She knew exactly what that symbol meant. Heidi looked back to Felix''s face, quickly abolishing any negative feelings from her features, she took a breath and smiled. ¡°It sounds like we won''t be seeing each other for a while, my Lucky Charm. She will teach you to be strong, learn what you can. You are smart, brave and kind. Remember that.¡± She said, then shooting a glare at Oswin, added, ¡°Just because she will be your teacher, doesn''t mean you have to become her.¡± Oswin smirked in response, but the expression was bankrupt of any actual mirth. ¡°What about you?¡± Felix forced through trembling lips, ¡°The Inquisition will hunt you too.¡± ¡°Don''t worry about me, I have a friend who runs a bakery.¡± She smiled as she whispered, ¡°he''s a little more understanding than most in his old age. I''ll hide till the black hour, then make a run for it through the fields-¡± ¡°But the spirits-¡± Felix interrupted, but Heidi quickly cut back in. ¡°-those ones are unique among their brethren, they¡¯ll only attack if I make too much noise.¡± They fell silent, both of their eyes fell on the clock that still sat on the coffee table. Three hours till the midday black hour. Heidi wrapped her arms protectively around Felix and held him close in a loving embrace. Felix returned the gesture and for a time they just stood there. No words were spoken. No words were needed. Mother and son simply enjoyed their last moments together for what they both knew would be a very long time. ¡°Two minutes.¡± Oswin warned quietly. ¡°Mrs. Magwhy, you should find your hiding place.¡± Felix only hugged his mother tighter, burying his face into her shoulder to hide his silent tears. He barely came up to her chin now. Heidi kissed the top of his head and began whispering a familiar lullaby. Crystal and stone surround you, Light your path and shroud you, The Shard of the Day is your beacon, Follow the light to your home. Violet and Violent may haunt you, Hide in the salt and the stone, The Knights of Red will come find you, And guide you on your way home¡­ ¡°I love you Mom.¡± Felix choked back a sob. Heidi faltered in her song, cleared her throat, and with a shaky breath, responded, ¡°I love you too, my Lucky Charm.¡± Felix slowly extracted himself from Heidi''s arms and turned to the Witch, who curiously had left the couch and was intensely inspecting Felix''s workbench, her back turned to them. Slowly, she turned to face them, an intricately gilded pocket watch in hand, which she quickly snapped closed and pocketed. ¡°Good,¡± Oswin said, snapping her fingers. The kitchen door opened again and Felix flinched as he heard his mother dragged out of the room and the door slam. Oswin''s Wraith returned to cloak form with a flourish of obsidian black energy as she strode to the door and paused for a moment. ¡°It''s quite lucrative for a witch to have a non-witchcraft hobby. Bring any tools you can carry, then come to the carriage quickly, the town is growing restless.¡± And with that, Felix was alone.