MEN WHO NEED THERAPY

This would be his last test for the day. He hadn't slept at all yesterday, and the sun was high now. Any further and even his stimulants wouldn't keep his mind clear.

Filghe's death had brought him to his senses, in a way. A stark reminder that the answers he needed, the miracle he was working towards was not going to fall in his lap, nor would it be achieved with his current methods. He had spent too many sweeps painting himself the lie that psionics or modern medicine could heal him.

This was not a renewed vigor. This was a last-ditch effort, grasping at straws. Plunging headfirst into the depths of unknown territory knowing full well he could easily fail to return. In some ways, he was counting on it. His last failure, and he could finally rest.

Garnet pulled a mouse from a cage waiting on his desk. He had cut the forelimbs off several mice a few nights ago in preparation for these tests, and this mouse was no exception. It attempted to bite his finger, and he dropped it on the small arcane ring he'd drawn.

This was the most complete spell he'd done yet. If he had done it right, it would regenerate the mouse's lost limb. He pressed the most to the paper to keep it from fleeing, and pressed his other hand to the ring, calling up that strange energy from the depths of his being.

He'd done this several times now, to minor effect. A few bones sprouting from the missing limb, or the mouse's flesh contorting itself as it tried to reshape the arm, one instance where the creature just swelled and burst in a gory mess... He had pinpointed and altered the problematic runes in each case, or so he thought.

The ring illuminated with flickering blue light. The mouse spasmed under his hand. Garnet watched carefully, and as the mouse's flesh began to warp he lifted away his hand.

Tendrils of magic ghosted from his fingers. Tendrils of flesh followed like flame lapping along a trail of gasoline, rapidly coating his hand, combining with his own flesh, warping and displacing tissue in a manner so reminiscent of Filghe's psionics.

Garnet jolted backwards and tried to cut off the energy flow within himself. The flesh continued to rearrange itself for a few more moments, back into the shape of a hand.

Not his hand. One more like a mouse's front paw, complete with sparse fur along the back of his arm. Shaking, Garnet pushed up his sleeve to survey the extent of the damage. It mostly only extended to his hand and wrist. The mouse itself was gone, absorbed into his own hand.

He considered immediately cutting his hand off, for lack of having any means of reversing this, and some paranoid fear that it might continue to spread.