I cut things. It's what I do. WHAT ELSE WOULD I DO.

There was a fracture in the small-keen's expression. His eyes, wide with fear, pleaded with Gerard to leave him be. His mouth, on the other hand, slowly stretched into a snarling grin. "What would I do? That's simple: I would kill you."

Gerard gave a tight-lipped smile, his eyes peering down at the small-keen in a way that more appropriately matched Rizzrack's animalistic grin. "Hm, don't you mean your Ancient would kill me? After all you seem quite adamant on letting me know every action of yours is to fulfill the will of something greater. Don't think I haven't been listening."

The young man's expression lightened up, finding this particular case to be as amusing as it is intriguing. He took a knee to bring himself down face to face with his subject. His hands rose up, palms facing inward as they stretched out to hover over Rizzrack once more. This position was slightly less comfortable, but he wanted to closely observe the way this keen's behaviour shifted. Previous subjects showed almost no awareness of Gerard's unique style of examination. After all, it was a style that required no "direct" contact with another's field, setting it apart from more invasive and dangerous methods like mind casting. He need only rely on his senses.

Sensations began to ripple across his palms. Gerard searched for the subtlest of textures, thermal traces, and other properties common to the body of auras. Instead he found a surprising lack of it save for the abundant sensation of malleable surface. He had never felt anything like that before. His Touch was so light as to not cause disturbances, that he wondered just how fragile and delicate this mind was.

Meanwhile Rizzrack froze up in response to Gerard's probing. The small-keen was nearly motionless save for the back and forth darting of his eyes, trapped in a trance of reading a never ending page of words. Beneath the surface, memories stirred up like silt from the bottom of a still pond, further clouding his already dark mind.

It was a moonless night, yet an ethereal glow illuminated the bodies all around. There laid the body of the elder druid, S̴̗͍̳̗̣͛̇͒̈́̿̅̐͊̇͠a̵̼̗͑̉̈̂́͗͊̉̓͊̏̏̎͝͝v̵̥̼̎̽́͆͛̌.̸̨̨̨̛̥̗͖̖̙͔̙̬̣̞̠̠̱̈́̋̈́͑̃̿̀̉͑̉.̵͈̭̝̭̗̜̳̖̪͒̽͗̂̒̎̏̉̔̋̆t̷͎͉̘̭̘̯͕͆̀̏̆̓̔͂͛͒̿̔͌͋ͅ.̷̰͖͕͇̈́̐̈͐̊̆̚.̷̭̻͕̎̚ờ̴̳͉͓̤̦͓̲̗̼̗̹͔̪̃̃͑̒̈́͋͑̔̈s̴̭͙͆͋͊̽̏̀́̋, back soaked by a dark sheen, surrounded by the bodies of men, women, and c̴̮̞͖̩̹̼̣͔͉̭͇̻̻͔͍̗̪̈́͆̊̏̆̾̄̂̃͑̀̓̚͘͝͝h̵̢̧̡̼͔̹̲͔̘̮̲̜̦͉̃̓̀̉̓̀́̋ͅi̶̡̛̖̗͓̗̻̳̹̣̬̗̳̩̳̙̱͑́̍̈̽̿̀̊͐̐̆́̈́͘͜͝l̵̗͉̭͙̮̝͊̌͌̔͗̃̌̈́d̸̳̯̖̝͈̱̯̭͖̭̎̀̃̑̀̒́̊͆̍͝ŗ̴̢͇̜͈͌̃͌̀̇̋̿̾̃̿̅ę̵̪̥̗̜̣͙̙͙̗̦̘̃͌̃͂̓̀̄̃̋͆̌͐͐̕̕͝ņ̶̯̳̫̞̪̊̅̈́̐̈́͒̿͜͠ of nature. Among the bodies stood out the corpse of an unfortunate ogre, but it didn't end there. The spreading glow illuminated an expanse of c̷̡̯͉̹̖̦͖͚͓̓̈́̑̄̑͠o̶̡͙͎͉͗̍̀̃̋̈́̈̄͐̕͝ư̷̢͈̟̣͕̭̎̀̾́̎̒́n̴̬̖̤̆̄̊́́̎̓͌̐̌̒̓̂t̸̛̤͖̳͈̜̩̙̼̳̲̘̂̉̽̐́̍͋͌̀͋̆͊̊l̵̡̨̤͍̗̀͑͌͐̐̈́̆́̂͒̓̎̓̅͌͘͝ę̷̩͚̲̭̅̈́͑̊̊̽͋̆̚s̴̲̫̼̮̯̖̮̥̞̔̊̈̈́͘͝ͅs̵̨̹̩̻͕̟̫̬̬̭͉̯̝͍̮͋͗ ̸̨̝̼̬̗̖̲͒͋̐́̎d̵͚̳̮̤̠̲̓̎͆̍̏͛͑̈̀̒́̂͠i̶̡̛̺͕͙͈̰͈͙̘͓͎͊͛́̄͝͝s̵̙̞̬̗̠̹̦̠̬̣͓͎̈̆̉̃̍̀̃̿́͠f̸̣̈́̋̈́́̎͛̄́̿͋́͌̓̄̚̚i̶̢̢͖̠̪̻͇͚̠̭̙̜̒͜͝ġ̴̢̝̘͈̺̺̜͉͜u̸̡͔̜̝̭͙̳̰̘͖̇́̓̅̏̒̔̑̀̈̑͠ŗ̶̟̘̫̹̩͋̓̂͛̑̈́̅͂̕͜ę̶̣̜͍̯̗͕̤̣̼̬̦̏̌̽̀̓́̍̄̕͝d̴̛̤͎͍̭̲͉̠̍̿͊̐̽̀̑͐́͛͂̅ ̵̨̬̘̫̦̙̺̒̿̀̾̍̓k̸̢̧̝̹̖̯̝̘̦͗̿́͋͘e̷̠̠̋̿ḙ̷̢̨̟̦̜̬̙̩̭̠͈͒̽̌̈́̐͂̿͋̀͜͝ņ̶̨̛̛͉͍͉̲̪͍̞͕̺͚̳̘̭͒̋̾̋͗̍̓̌͛͑̀͂̈̽͜f̵̨̛̛͙̝͖̰͍̤̱̖̞͍̌̒̑̒͝ỏ̶̜͙͒͑̾͗̎̍̈́̆̄͝͠ľ̵̨͗̿̀̎͗̏ḵ̵̡̧̨̧̣̥̘̥͎̹͕̲̥̑̃̿͛͆͛͆̏̓́̎̚̚̚͝͝͝ͅ ̴̧̹̟̠̰̜̘͕̙̼̠͕̝̩͊̑͐t̴̯̊̏̃́̉̈́͌͊̍̌͝ḩ̴̡̱̽̈́̆̔͆͐̎̓̃á̵̯̈́̑͊̆͆͗͂̏͐̅́̒t̷̪͈͔͌̀ ̸̟̟̭̤̼͔̰̲̼͈͈̫̣̞͕̖̬̒͛̄͐͒͐̀̒͑͝͠͝ḩ̸͙͈̬̺͍͆̃̄̿̌̽̋̊̕a̸̧̹̻͕̺̥̼̼̗͎̎̾̂̈́̊̔͋̃̍̚͜ṽ̷̢̝͕̤̻̫̠̱̩̩͗̉̎͋͗̍͂̇̆͝e̵̹̪̬̳̺̘̫͍͓̙͍͈͂͒̒͌͆̃́ ̷̬͙̠̙̖̙̙͙͔͈̻̬̭͇͙̦̄̓̄̈́͂͠ͅḇ̸̨̧̭̣̩͍̘̘̘͈̳̤̠̙̹͖̾͛͝ę̷̢͖͚̦̺̰͈̝̬͉̤̞̝̰́͐͗͜ͅẻ̷̢͇̟̰̤̯͙̌̋́̆̎̈n̴̡̢̡̼͓͇͇̬͈͔͍͇̞͉̹̆̿̈́̃̄͜ ̶̛̞̽̊͑̈́̉̌̌̾̇͊̈́̿c̴̛̛̘̿̌̈́̈́̂͒́̍̂̚r̸̬͓͕̥̫͉̟̟̥͚͚̻̭̽ṳ̴̧̹͌̑̀̓̉̈́̌̈́̌̈́̀͛͜͝͝͠s̴̖̣͕̰͉͕̻̙͇̮̯̪̯̅̃̍h̸͎͔͍̬͍̻̞̣͇̻̿͐̎̀̇ĕ̵̡̝̝̥̦̳͎̖̯̠̯̰̰̟̖̪̇̆̔̀̊̒͛̃̓̿̉̚̚ͅd̶̡͙͙̓̌̓̑̋̄̏͐̇̊̎͋̆͌͂͝,̶̫͓͌ ̵̡̨̣̭̩̝̖̘͖̺̩̔̄͒̋̇̈́̾͆̆́̉͗̈́̄̔r̶̢̟͉̠͓̻͓̼̬̠̠̤̒̊̂͆i̷̢̱̬͚̳̓̂̓̒͗̚p̷̼͓̤͍̙̀̂̋̈̆͊̐̀͌̿̈̃̎̚͜p̶͎̬̩̪̘̤̱͍̮̭͚̤̫͖͕̉͋͐̉̏̎̓͊͠ĕ̸̛̟̦̙̲̙̺̝̇̓͑͑͒̌̑͘̕͘͝d̴̛̛͓̼͆̔̋ ̷̢̫̦̩͕͖̤̼̘̿͊̂̅̎̄͑̈́̀͊̕͘͝͠ä̸̩̜̘̱̘̈̄̓ͅS̴̤̮̳͎̪̜̟̝̦̏̄̾́̊̏̐͜͠͝p̸̧̘̥̘̱̘̗̲̩̼̯̤̪͓̬̙̓͗́̓̌ͅT̸̢̡̨̧͔͖͕̜͎̺̮̬̺̍͠ą̴̮̜̮͈͍͕̰̯̭̲̌̆͝R̸̨̭͔̦̲̙̮͇͓̟͇̺͉̪͇͈̈r̶̨̛̗̝̲̳̘͈̞̣̻̒̽͌̀̑͌̈́̌̽͂͘͠͝Ä̷̻̲͍̭͆̓̔̑̐͜t̵̳̠͓̺̩̹̆ͅN̵̛͉͎͖̤͈̫̜͇̫̞͙̖̿́̅̋̅̑̔̾̅͗̀͑̊͒͠G̷̢̛̱̜͍͉͈̪͍̀̈͆̑͜͝L̷̢̗̼̟̠͖̝̗̗̖̟̗̥̺̭͂̅̍̾͒̃̾͂̈́̆̆̌̎̔̕͘͜É̴̘̝͖̗̌̾̈̈́̎̔͠Ḏ̸̨̛̹̉̑̀̐́͘̕ , and… The memory of a hand grabbing his boot. It pulled itself from the darkness and rose up before him, the glow forming a black sihlouette around this unseen corpse. It gazed down at him with glowing eyes that flickered icy blue and emerald green, scorching the object off its ire with an burning hate.

The timing couldn't be more perfect when a knock was heard at the door, keys unlocking it seconds after. In walked Elowen, the time having passed much faster than anticipated. Her eyes noticed the pink ears lulled to one side, peeking out from behind the chair's back, unmoving. Giving no words, her look spoke more than enough.

"Moment ago he passed out. From what, I'm not even certain..." How to even explain? Gerard gestured for her to sit as well, pushing the neat pile of writing towards her.

"I hope you have more answers than that."

"Of course. Hm... I'll start with the basics then, yes? First and formost: I'm certain the Silencer played no roll in this one's oddities of the mind. There was no superficial or recent tampering to speak of."

Elowen sunk in her seat with a deep sigh. She wasn't sure if it was one of frustration, or of relief, however. Yes, this was good news that the Warden remained honest- but then what was the issue here? "Wait, you said oddities, meaning you found something out of place."

Elowen’s finger tugged at the corner of her lip in thought as her eyes stopped scanning Gerard’s notes for a moment, attention grabbed by a spontaneous recollection of interesting details. Ancients, Nemesis stones, bonds… Although this Keen couldn’t be reliable, the Warden’s earlier reactions to this Keen were.

“While most of what he spews is fanatical nonsense, I have reason to believe his claims are not completely unfounded. He may have a flawed understanding of what he knows, but I know someone who does not.” She read over Gerard’s notes again, her thoughts redirecting themselves once more towards the Warden with renewed scrutiny. A few slips in his discussion let on that he knew a lot more about Rizzrack’s assertions than he would have liked her to know. Now that’s another thing, if that man didn’t act like he had something to hide then maybe this all could be irrelevant… But she could never allow herself to accept an easy explanation. Instead she began to wonder what it would take to have the Warden examined as well. Perhaps mention of potential harm as a result of invasive Keenfolk tech. Hmm….

“With such an invaluable skill, you’re proving to be a valuable asset in my investigation.” An investigation that’s quite a big deal to anyone in-the-know. “I see more than just a Recommendation for you in your future….”

——

“Hmhmm, now why would anyone ever need to protect themselves from-from trees of all things?”

The sound of intellectual chuckling filled the room. On the far right, a Keen with a fat cigar as thick as his fingers exhaled a thick plume of smoke into the air. His coughs were punctuated with a few choking laughs. “Now if you’d said ‘tree-rats’ then I’d have said ‘Sure! I know Krimwohl’d be looking to buy!’ But to fill my trains with…” He held up the drawing with dramatic scrutiny, eyes squinting through his lenses. “Limbersaws? It’s just not a very sound investment from where I’m sitting.”

The one sat beside him leaned over for a closer look, petting his long white beard with interest. “With a few adjustments, these could be a highly portable alternative to those Logging machines that Redding Company uses. No need for costly technicians traveling to remove locations, repairs could be handled here on site while replacements could be efficiently swapped in. Think of the time and costs saved.”

Although there were only six of them seated behind the curved desk, their figures loomed, the room made by the entirety of their presence. He was trapped there in the middle of it with no way to back out. The small-keen clutched his leather document tube closely to his chest. Through the open mouth of the tube he could hear the sounds of his heart pounding. He didn’t understand. He had always looked forward to the day when he would present his work, his designs, his ideas, to the visionaries of his city. He knew the anticipation would flutter in his stomach, but not like this, not with the excitement he imagined. Instead it twisted up like a wire that bore through his stomach into his heart. It was a bad feeling he couldn’t explain.

The tone in the room began to shift from amusement to reluctant consideration. As soon as a finger pointed to a spot on the drawing, their mutterings swelled with interest. He couldn’t hear them, but he knew what they saw. He had hoped that they saw it. After all it was a conscious choice and not a small oversight on his part.

“Young man, we’ve noticed you haven’t visited with the Patent Office yet.”

“Oh, I have—I mean, I haven’t because I didn’t need to.”

“Didn’t need to?” Chuckled one while packing his pipe so that he may contribute to the haze that already filled the room. “Imagine not needing to secure the exclusive rights of your….”

“The rights aren’t important to me. What’s important is that we prepare for…”

The drawings in their hands were like a magnet that attracted their bearded heads closer in. They couldn’t care less for the young Keen’s noble reasons.

“Aren’t you Skrich’s son?”

“Nephew, actually-“ His correction was met with a dismissive grunt.

“Right. All in my brother’s fabrication guild have heard about you, your uncle’s hard working young apprentice. We were all worried for your well being. To see you here, it must mean your recovery has gone well.” The senior Keen leaned over the desk towards the young Keen, his thin smile piercing through the smokey fog. “Your uncle is a hard-working keen, an excellent role model. I know he does his best to teach you everything he knows. Tell you what, your plans son? They could do with a little more polish, but I like your uncle, he’s got a great shop. I’ll make you an offer. Half base fee for these right here. “ He waved the papers in hand, stirring up the haze with light turbulence. “And I’ll see what’s willing to be made. Now you’ll get no royalties, but if making it real is what matters most to you...”

His chest felt tight. The smoke in the room, it was making it hard to breathe… They still didn’t take him seriously, did they? They didn’t believe he was better, either…

“Y-yes…” He croaked and tried to swallow down the knot in his throat. “I just want to give back to my community, to society for keeping me together.” He just needed to be sure they would be safe….Then everything can be normal again…

The cigar smoking keen promptly rolled up the papers to the protests of some who wished to glean just a little more from the drawings. “Excellent. I’m sure there are more out there who can appreciate your work. Your confidence to stand before us is very telling of your potential.”

He finally left their den, empty tube in one hand, the other mindlessly dropping the heavy coins into his pocket. He needed to hope. He just needed to hope that someone out there can see what he sees. Only then would they realize how important this invention could really be. He knew he couldn’t stop progress, but perhaps he could protect them from their march towards doom.

——

Rizzrack pressed his eyes tightly shut as the front of his brain felt assaulted by waves of buzzing static. His mind was like a combustion cycle, and his brain the poor runaway engine. He knew he had no desire to sleep, but for the first time that no longer felt like a strength. He seethed as he slowly stretched, feeling a foreign soreness on his shoulders. He knew why he was feeling this way. He was Rizzrack.

Elowen reclined in her chair, plush and more than able to bear the weight of the day's stress, letting her form sink down and get comfy. Her side table had a large pot of tea resting upon the mat cover, with a cup already waiting to be enjoyed. On the other corner, the folder with report papers, and just on top of that a small box of sweets to make the entire experience less painful. How much sass and beligerance did he weave into these reports?

She sighed. Elowen knew they would likely remain professional, as always, and wished he could stick to that attitude in person as well.

Yes, tomorow would be a long day indeed. ***

“A willing participant in what was happening.”

“Complacent.”“Acted in a self serving manner”

“Was accepting, and assisting, in the procedures taking place.”

“Only objected when he found out their mission’s didn’t actually align.”

The Silencer’s report had been much more damning against Rizzrack than Elowen had ever expected. For once, she softened her stance towards the delay in receiving Nortrom’s written statement; Having read it, it made sense why he would need some time to collect his thoughts. Though, that still didn’t excuse his snarky attitude and dismissive actions.

Now, the entire case was turned upside down, by yet another statement. Another accusing finger pointing at Rizzrack as not being so innocent, as not being merely caught between other’s, as not being fooled into such deceptive practice. 

Milgram.

She had met up with the stout Keen this morning, still bed ridden but at least capable of handling a conversation. Milgram was oddly calm for someone knowing the gravity of what charges they might face, an air of nonchalance that masked a more sinister disregard for the life he had attempted to control. A shame his type was all too common here, in Weeping Rose.

“Keep guards posted at all times, one inside and one out, of the room.” There was no way she would let another thread in all of this come undone, lost to mishandling. Elowen took some time to muse over what was said, what she had read in Silencer’s report earlier, and what her own investigation had discovered. Many pieces matched. Many more were scattered and misshapen, unable to find a place in this puzzle. 

Rizzrack was both tricked, and not, by the other three. The three were also not so much on the same page as previously thought. They all appeared to agree on the methods and general idea: Find a way to control and use the warden’s abilities, via forced mechanical means. But where it fell apart for them all, was the fact they each had their own end goal for what those powers would be used for. If she took all of the reports into account, then it would sound as though Rizzrack was convinced of an end goal that matched his own, and only after finding out this wasn’t the case did he turn against their plans. Prior? He was just as open to the experiment, and just as active, in it’s execution. Silencer’s report pretty much said so. Milgram said so. 

Rizzrack was not merely an innocent patsy. He was just as culpable as the others.

***

One stack of writing and a cup of coffee later, and the morning had used up it’s allotted time and now bled into the afternoon. Or, as close as one could get in an eternal sky of stars. Above the burning halls, far up in the sky, a woven mandala of lights formed a constellation where all could see. It shifted, the largest star acting as a sort of guide, a singular hand of a clock that passed the other rays of light carving their shape. It was just reaching ‘second passing’, the Weepingrose equivalent of mid day. 

Still no word from the Silencer.

It was such a simple task to do, an easy favor for a recommendation from such an influential figure! But his own curiosity, let alone personal standards, craved fulfillment. Just what exactly was the true nature of that mysterious matter coating that strange mind? If only he had a little more time to investigate further, just a little more… What they need an assortment of disciplines to uncover, he knew he could reveal single-handedly and just as skillfully on his own. One day the efficiency of his magic would be noticed. One day he could be the Head of his very own Department…

There was no better time to act than now. With it being the off hours, Gerard knew there was a slim chance to run into Elowen. Under normal circumstances that would be an inconvenience, but now it was rather convenient instead to not have to bother her.

The man went on to prepare a small case of supplies: some sheets of parchment and a pen, a filled flask, an obsidian dish, a small cloth, and a few restraints. Although it didn't seem like much, these few minor additions will allow him a means of manipulation (non-invasive means of course). Elowen may have intended him to only analyze her little prisoner once, but he knew she would agree that anything worth investigating should be done thoroughly. Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission, and who needs forgiveness when you know you can make no mistake?

— The seconds, the minutes, the hours, they all passed the same to him. Time was everything, which in a way almost made it like Nothing--Everything, everything, this is everything…

The True Reality shall grip him for Eternity.

No matter what happened, no matter what comes next, one thing will never change… He. His very existence threatened to collapse beneath the weight of its permanence. A crushing force that only oblivion could free him of. The only mercy was The End, and this can Never End.

Rizzrack’s eyes focused and he found he was not alone in his cell. The man there that knelt he recognized to be the one that did things from before.

The guard that hesitated to let him in had barely re-secured the door before the visitor started setting out items from the laid open case. “No need to hover.” Gerard waved dismissively over his shoulder. “I’m well equipped to deal with any resistance on my own. Besides, I work best without an audience."

The guard huffed with defeat as he returned to his post by the entrance. It was true that the previous watch had earlier logged activity involving this young man, but it was still strange of him to return unexpectedly without notice, and for another session no less. Perhaps the last watch forgot to pass on word…

Gerard glanced over at the small-keen huddled in the corner, smirking at the sight. He looked so much like a small, frightened animal—a sight he found all the more amusing knowing how keenfolk prided themselves on being above such things. “Come now, don’t be like that. It isn’t so bad.” Grabbing the restraints, he held them out towards Rizzrack and playfully jostled them, the buckles clinking lightly against each other as if trying to coax a wary pet from hiding. “Would it help if I placed you in these? Hmm? I think it would.” He hummed with mock compassion. “Then once you’re all snugged up, you can tell me all about that wonderful Ancient to your heart's content.”

Although the keen was rigidly tense, Gerard was prepared for any unexpected moves. He minded his exposure while coolly reaching for the tiny ankle and gripped firmly to pull the keen closer, pleased to find he was not being met with any resistance as he prepared to bind the small legs together.

The restraints went on and each strap was tugged securely tight. The last few that went on ensured that Rizzrack's arms were hugged against his body as tightly as breathing would allow. Rizzrack was quieter now than their last meeting. Much quieter. In fact, he said nothing at all up until the final restraint.

“You’re going to make me suffer.”

Gerard scoffed at his warning. “I’m going to make you suffer?” He gripped the small frame by the elbows and turned to face him. “Any suffering you experience is entirely of your own making, a construction purely from within that jumbled little head of yours which—since you don’t know—is a space outside my scope of work.”

Suffering…entirely of your own making.

Rizzrack could feel it seize him again, that overwhelming weight pressing in all around that trapped him in himself, an inescapable existence that outwardly manifested as unmoving indifference.

Deep down he knew there was nowhere to run. No respite was compatible with his Truth.

Gerard tugged at the straps once more. “Wouldn’t want these to slip off now.” Although he liked a challenge, Gerard was pleased with the keen’s compliance so far. No wasted time meant he could jump right into business. Excellent.

“Now if you can stay like that, I won’t have to lay you prone.”

With that out of the way, he was one step closer to beginning his work.

With the dish set out, Gerard retrieved the flask and uncapped it, patiently pouring the specially prepared liquid out until it was completely empty. It rippled and shimmered like liquid metal in the dish until a powder retrieved from a stashed vial was added. It diffused across the surface as it dissolved, turning the silvery color into a deep blue indiscernible from black in the dim light. He began with his right hand, palm down and nearly level with the surface of the liquid until he began to sink the tips of his fingers in, darkness slowly seeping up his skin as he sunk deeper in. Then his left hand joined in similar fashion, sinking slowly down until both were submerged to the wrist.

Finally he leaned slowly back, lifting both hands from which heavy droplets fell. After four firm shakes, he carefully transferred his hands to the square cloth laid out and rested them there, muttering unheard words before finally raising his hands before him. In the dim light his hands were reduced to dimensionless shadows. Gerard was now ready.

They slowly moved towards him like small voids, and Rizzrack awaited them with stone-faced acceptance. As they positioned to each side of his head, he felt the familiar pull begin as his gaze fell beyond the man before him.

Gerard's examination began in the usual ways. Sensations brushed beneath his palms, very similar to their previous encounter, but he was looking beyond those now. His hands "sunk" down gradually, the sensations growing stronger until a new layer of sensation manifested beneath his palms.

Metaphysical surfaces slid across each other, his hands and the "body" of this foreign matter began to interact, separated only by a thin film of protective magic. He slowly searched about for where "this" ended and where Rizzrack began, but it encompassed a surprising amount of space.

"It just keeps going and going. Your astra must be of an unusual size to be so accommodating." Gerard muttered to himself expecting no response from his blanked out subject as he traveled further and further…

Rizzrack's movements were subtle and his twitches faint. His head slowly dipped forward, consciousness slipping down into the depths below as the darkness rose above.

He knew he was being watched. Every little thing he did, every step taken, every word spoken, and every one of their actions Rizzrack knew was subjected to judgement. He did everything he could. He tried to tell his uncle who was too distracted by work to really understand him. He tried to tell his father who was too weak to really do anything about it. He tried to tell his mentor who couldn't understand he was being literal and not figurative. He tried to tell his representative who frequently became unavailable and could only take messages. Every chance he had he took and more. Soon nearly everyone in the city had become aware of Rizzrack's problem.

"You have been reiterating this nonsense about the forest with such fervent purpose that our clients are beginning to think you're superstitious." His uncle had finally said. "You don't honestly believe that trees are sentient, do you? Do you know how ridiculous you sound?" Doubt began to weigh on him. Confused looks had become expressions of pity. They treated him gently with gloved hands, offering support but keeping their distance. Sympathetic nods came hand in hand with unsolicited advice. "Perhaps you should gather evidence for your theory?" "Maybe your senses tricked you." "Have you considered you might be unwell? You should get checked."

Rizzrack could no longer bear the isolation.

He finally confessed it was a cry for help. He was stressed and it affected him mentally. He would accept their medicines, receive their therapies, and he would return to his usual self, carrying on with life as the city continued to expand and cut until…

Things had gone back to normal, except they will never be normal again. It will never be the same, yet everything's changed. If they continue their ways there would be consequences.

He HAD to do something.

The young small-keen kept himself busy, as disaster could come at any moment. He had worked tirelessly on the design. If he couldn't stop the inevitable, he could at least prepare for it. Or so he thought. Rizzrack had hoped they would accept his design. He would never imagine that they would distort the intention of his work.

It took everything in him to muster the courage to travel up into the bay area's woodlands. Ever since that day, he could no longer see trees the same way, but that wasn't the only thing he was afraid of. He couldn't rest, he wouldn't rest until he tried just one final desperate idea. It was drastic. It could ruin a lot of things, but it would work, and once they knew why he did it, they would forgive him. They would finally understand. All would be forgiven once they see. He needed to be brave.

From next to the sawmill high up the mountain side he could see much of the city in the valley below, the green-blue waters of the bay… …and rows and rows of newly manufactured saw suits. Ever since their production, the speed of Augury's development increased tenfold. Years of organizational planning went out the window as clear-cutting became accessible to every amateur and their mother. Land was now cheap, and everyone was racing to claim for themselves what was for countless generations untouchable. And it would be because of him. What was once a dream was now threatening to become a nightmare.

He needed to fix this because no one else could. No one else knew what was coming. No one else saw what he saw in the forest! And no one else had a dozen barrels of fine black powder laying around to be stealthily staged over the course of a month below the Mountain Reservoir…

Gerard pulled away to give himself a short rest. He was being thorough, going not once but twice over mysterious unsee-able features and he was risking growing frustrated from the lack of noticeable leads or progress. Nothing stood out of the ordinary, at least nothing relating to the field of his search.

Subject seemed responsive.

Gerard swayed from side to side as he observed.

Seemed. Gerard at first believed the keen's eyes were tracking his movements. Adjusting his actions made it apparent that the keen was focused on something else outside the present, something else that Gerard knew shouldn't matter but still felt he couldn't completely disregard. He sighed. Break was over. His hands returned to their place by the keen's head.

The flooding of the bay was an avoidable disaster, or so they said.

The investigation into the dam’s collapse uncovered evidence of negligence: missing maintenance records, cut corners, and rushed construction. Preventative measures were sacrificed in favor of saving time and resources, and so Levey & Sons are found guilty of the loss of sixteen lives and thousands in property damages through negligence.

Yet despite their findings something still didn't add up. Although the failure was inevitable, evidence insisted otherwise to the cause. The truth was still out there, but it would never get the chance to see the light of day.

There was nothing they could do. Everything had washed out into the bay, their machines, their equipment, leaving them unexpectedly vulnerable for what was to come.

He only wanted to stop them. He was only trying to spare them from retribution. He betrayed them. If it wasn't for him, they could've stopped the attack. If it wasn't for him, they could have saved themselves from the invasion of wooden monsters.

The city of Augury Bay didn't deserve this. He was wrong. Horribly wrong. About Everything. By logging they were ensuring the balance of nature, a purpose that he fearfully doubted. Everything was fine until he no longer believed. It was all his fault.

"-I made a mistake." Rizzrack muttered. "I made a mistake. I made a mistake. I made a-"

Gerard paid no attention to the small-keen, but he paid no attention to himself either. He had found something intriguing now, although he wasn't sure how he missed it before. He gently pulled back, feeling how the matter was morphing beneath his palms. It stuck like tar to the protective film on his hands and he tested how to use that to his advantage. He reached deeper in, intending to coax out a larger portion to study. In all his years studying the residual traces of magics, he had never felt a signature so defined and yet so unrecognizable, it felt almost alien.

The man became increasingly convinced that this was more than what it seemed. It was something left behind--unintentionally or not, he wasn't sure. Energy flowed freely around the matter, making it difficult to see as anything but the discovery of something stranger. He returned to study a signature and now he believed he had here the very source of it. Unbelievable, but fascinating. He probed even further in, unable to resist his insatiable curiosity.

The deeper he ventured, the more he left behind. Among the towering trees, he stepped into another world, one untouched by the life he knew. And for the first time since his mother vanished, Rizzrack felt her presence.

He would give up everything he’d ever known just to understand one thing.

His heart swelled with hope, warmed by awe as he moved forward. The forest beckoned him deeper, promising discovery, understanding, something more. Something he was missing.

This forest, these trees-- if they could speak, what could they tell him? What have they seen? All those who wandered, where had they gone?

What was a keenfolk without their senses to guide them? How deep was too deep before one was truly lost? His mother like any other Keenfolk was smart, careful, steady. She would never get lost. Yet she never came home. Rizzrack wandered deeper still. The woods grew no denser, yet the air seemed to glow with yellow beams filtering through the canopy like golden strands. There was an answer here that yearned to be heard, a secret that could only be whispered—and he leaned in to hear it.

To be drawn to knowing was the essence of a keen. And this forest embodied that call. That call of fulfillment manifested with every step he took, and little by little, nothing else outside of now seemed to matter.

He could stay and linger in this place until he finally knew. But would that mean leaving behind his life? How long would he be gone? How long would they miss him? What would change while he was gone How much would change? Would everything go on without him?

The thought unsettled him. Of course they would miss him. Just like they all miss her. Yet life went on…

Had his mother asked herself the same? Had she sought something greater in the forest? Was what she wanted worth more than the life she had? If he found her now, would he recognize her? Would she recognize him?

A cold thought made him shiver.

Maybe she was happy somewhere else. Maybe she had found what she was missing. Maybe she missed them. Maybe she didn’t. Maybe she made a mistake. Or…

…Maybe she didn’t care

Rizzrack finally came to a stop. He gazed up ahead beyond rows of trees that went on with no end in sight. What was he doing here? An almost unfamiliar sensation of burning began to well up in his chest and clutched his throat tight. He shuddered.

Oh no. He was doing that again. But at least he was here where no one else could see him.

His vision blurred, and he hurried to wipe the hot tears from his eyes.

No. She cared. She had to. She couldn’t be so horrible. There was nothing here worth giving up everything for. She knew that. He knew that.

She didn’t choose to stay away.

Rizzrack sighed deeply to ease the pain. He glanced around, suddenly aware of how deeply lost in thought he had been. When had he last marked his way back?

No matter. He had a compass.

….

A dark thought lingered in the back of his mind. It lingered about with an offer to comfort to his heart-

-but for a price.

What if… What if she didn't choose to stay away, then?

….

This place was not what it seemed.

He shivered again as he looked around. He knew he was in a forest, but he did not feel like he was in one. Something was different. Something was off.

His eyes darted around. The trees here were different—shorter, their branches gnarled, their leaves too low to belong to the canopy above. Had they always been here? He couldn’t recall noticing them before, though they clearly stood apart from all the others. Even among those one was different from the rest in that its leaves rustled noticeably in the wind-

Rizzrack froze.

There was no wind.

The air was utterly still, save for the quiet rustling leaves of that one tree.

His heart began to race.

Its branches swayed, but not from wind. They moved uneven and strangely, like someone holding still but struggling to remain motionless.

His breath caught in his throat. His eyes darted lower, falling onto the trunk. Uncanny textures came together to reveal something horrifying.

His heart nearly burst from his chest.

A unseen face watched down at him from above like a hidden predator.

It was too late. It knew that he knew. That was Rizzrack's last conscious thought before pure instinct took over.

All became a blur as rows of trees stretched and morphed all around, yet he became slower and slower as terror impeded him like waist deep water. The overwhelming presence behind him overcame him and the world quickly grew dark and oppressive.

All was black.

His body grunted, a last ditch attempt to pull himself away.

There he was on his knees. Wait, no, this wasn't him.

It was another man. No, it was the keen. That's right.

And who was this?

A spotlight shone down on the dark stage. A figure knelt down on the ground, back bared to the sky. It seemed small, or maybe not. Perhaps the other present figure that loomed over the first was unusually large instead.

The tall figure raised its arms, and where hands would be were instead long whip-like tendrils.

"Is this what you want?" The figure lashed down at the exposed back, sending a spray of glistening red mist into the air. The dark silhouette paced around, looking down at his subject with dark amusement.

"Or is this what you deserve?"

The light caught him this time from the front. His gold-trimmed robes of violet shimmered with hints of red.

"You don’t deserve to get what you want."

The whip came down again. The small figure dared not cry out.

The tall figure's glimmering blue-green eyes narrowed and he frowned with disgust.

A series of whips assaulted the exposed flesh. Crack. Crack. One after another. Each strike sent another wave of red into the air.

A final lash.

The red dust settled.

What once was purple, now gleamed a coat of beautiful, glittering red.

The helmeted head tilted to the side. Even in the shadows his grin was unnaturally wide.

"I'm not doing this to punish you." The man snarled. "I'm doing this because I. Hate. You."

The red Warden suddenly looked straight up at him, and Gerard suddenly became aware of himself.

Realization struck that he was in danger.

He found the will to pull away, but he wasn't going to escape unscathed. Whip-like tendrils grasped him as he pulled back with everything he could muster. Like tar he couldn't separate himself from, he could feel his self stretched across the chasm.

Suddenly something snapped.

Gerard flung backwards, his shoulders then head landing against the stone with a sickening crack. His world spun, arms stretched to the sky as his senses slowly returned to him.

"Hey, is everything alright?" A voice called out.

Gerard grunted as he gradually regained himself. His head throbbed as he slowly brought his arms to his head. He felt hands brush across his face. Thinking the guard was checking on him, he opened his eyes. The hands were covered in black. They were his hands. He felt nothing beyond his arms. His blood chilled. He tried to touch one hand with the other, only managing to brush them against each other as they hung like useless growths from his wrists.

"Fuck. Fuck." The guard hissed as he stepped in. "Did you fucking kill him? None of this better be my problem. God dammit."

Gerard blinked. Something was wrong. More wrong than before. He squeezed his eyes shut and blinked again. The world was the same except for the red. A deep red saturated his vision, but only when he looked at Rizzrack. His breaths matched his quickening pulse.

He didn’t understand.

What just happened?

He didn’t stay to find out any of it.

He scooped up what belongings he could into the case and hugged it as he muttered unconvincing reassurances to the guard.

"H-he'll be fine. If anyone asks that's just a common side effect…" He said weakly.

His thoughts swirled and thudded around in his skull, coherence lost as they collided. He didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know where to start. He only knew one thing for certain.

He messed up.

He couldn't let it distract him. The next distraction could prove disastrous. He had to ignore it. He had to ignore the begging, the pleas, the cries. They needed to just deal with the alarms. Don't they understand that the alarms mean nothing? Why won't they leave him alone? Don't they know they're making him suffer??

Rizzrack squeezed his eyes tight and lightly shook his head to clear away the remnants of that uncomfortable sensation. Just as he was finally getting back in control of submitting himself to a higher power, he becomes unsettled. It's not me, it's them. Rizzrack wanted to ask the man just what it was he was doing, but to ask would mean to care. No, he's not supposed to care. He's not supposed to need unimportant details. He's not supposed to wonder if this was the "torture" that Silencer warned him about. He's not supposed to wonder if it's torture if it doesn't hurt. He's not supposed to wonder if it could ever hurt at all.

Rizzrack ignored the sound of paper being scratched with ink. He also ignored the soft mutterings of observations going on behind him. Rizzrack especially ignored the uncomfortable feeling that lurked about in the dark corners of the room.

"Just what are you doing, exactly?" Rizzrack finally said. He assured himself that he wasn't asking for answers, he just needed to shift his attention to somewhere else and this was an acceptable means to do so. "Trying to open my mind? Attempting to unlock the answers to the universe? If you come to Know The Truth and the Power of The Ancient, then you too can reunite with The Whole that awaits at The End."

"Save me? From what?" Finishing his notes, he removed his coat and hung it on the corner of the desk, it's length bunching under and onto the floor. Mentally he went through a check list of what he needed to do next, when the Small-Keen's words sudenly dawned on him. Apathetic ignoring turned to curriosity.

"Wait- did you say the Ancient?" The secrets hidden behind this mysterious case of a hidden lab just got even more interesting. What really was going on here? Everyone had been so very 'hush-hush' about the entire thing, leaving far too much to speculation and gossip. The only facts that could be considered consistant were the fact a secret tunnel of workshops or labs existed under that block, and the the Silencer was involved some how. But beyond that?

"Oh yes, yes of course! But first I must correct you it's How is all of this involved with the Ancient? Now that is a very good question!" Rizzrack punctuated with his finger. "Thank you for asking!" He passionately began to spill out every little thing he had come to understand, unaware of the possibility Gerard might not be taking any of his words in earnest faith.

Stepping back to Rizzrack's side and rolling up his sleaves, a brow dcocked in the expression one would give a child telling you a grand tale. Humoring them but not actually believing a word.

"Trees? Why trees of all things? Why anything, if we're supposedly fighting nothing in the end? You say trees are nothing, so then that means nothing is a threat. We are safe, by your own words." He still had no idea what this had to do with the Ancient, and was begining to think Rizzrack didn't know either.

***

Returning to her desk, Elowen's eyes jumped to the new envelope resting on it's surface. Breaking the seal, that of the Official magistrate medical ward, her eyes widened as she read it's contents.

"But that doesn't mean we stand idly by. We need to take action! Trees are just one of the many things against us. Against ME! You see, when I was a young boy--" The small-keen rambled on, the sharing of his story was a gratifying excuse indirectly scratch towards an unidentified itch. He could go just a little further... "--and see, it was our way of life. When life gives you logs, make lumber."

Rizzrack only became aware of Gerard's hands returning to the space around his head when he felt the subtle sensation fuzzy static. It tingled him as if the hands moved any closer he would be shocked. He had the urge to shiver, yet felt no anticipation, and so he continued.

"Y'know, they used to say that to know everything is to know nothing. Or was it to know nothing is to know everything? Either way, it doesn't actually matter because--" Tͪhͤeⷱreͭ'ͪsͤ ͬnͤotͬhͥᶻiᶻnͬgͣ ͨwⷦe ͣcͬaͤn ⷱdͦoͧ ᵒᵏᵃʸ...? a mid-thought "ahh" held out as he tried to recall what he was about to say. "... See, we're not meant to make decisions for ourselves. When we follow a self-serving path and not the Gr--" pⷲlͤeaͪsͤeͣ ͬwhⷱyͦ ͧwoⷬᶫnͤ'ͣt̾ ͤsʲoͧm̾eͭbᶫoͤdͭy ͧl̾isͪtͤᶫeⷬn ⷱtͦoͧ me

"Uh, ahm, hey this, whatever you're doing? Yeah I think it needs to stop and you should take whatever you have now and go."

The ever creeping awareness that his guiding force had faded dawned slowly on him. It was faint at first, but over time grew weaker, ever since that....Silencer! Ever since he came to meddle with and obstruct his mission... He was no different than the trees, a force sent to destroy him. But unlike the trees who played a part in his making, this Silencer was going to be his undoing.

Rizzrack tensed up as Gerard showed no intention of stopping. He needed to feel it. He needed to feel it just once, just to know he still had it. His existence depended on it. He just had to reach down for that feeling, that liberating force... That no good bastard.

Somewhere locked away in a safe within a safe, the coveted ruby red stone quivered. The properties of the chest hid it away from the senses of the small-keen, but the artifact was equally compelled to seek. Within the larger safe the faintest sounds could be heard...

There came a point where even he had to concede the fight and pull back, hands faultering as they pulled away and the connection slowly broke. It wasn't until fully severed that the man realized just how much that had drained him. Elowen was right to assume something was amiss, but it was unlike anything he had felt before. It most certainly wasn't from the Silencer either.

"You---" A shame he only had a couple of hours here. It would be a great test of fortitude and his skills to run the maze that was Rizzrack's mind; To was away the grime and see clearly what this influence was and where it came from. Given what he had experienced, however? That would take much, much longer than the remaining hour.

Gerard staggered slightly as he rest against the desk. Notes. He had to take notes, and in as much detail as he could muster. As for the one behind him... "I really do wonder what is pulling at your strings like a puppet master- I have never known a presence such as this. Impressive, as I know quite a bit about mental intrusions."

***

The Estate never did feel welcoming, and honestly, that made a lot of sense given you really didn't want to be here for any reason. The boy could see their eyes still watching him, the guards at the gate who had let him in to drop off the letter, knowing he needed only to go to the box and back again. Easy. Despite this, the looming rock butresses and arches of the old building crept upwards at unnerving angles and imposing heights, stalling his steps for a moment before finally forcing himself to press forward.

The mailbox was locked tight, with a single small slit for papers and envelopes to slide in but not be drawn back out again. Well, at least not from this side. When the hatch creaked at being disturbed the boy jumped, stabalizing himself with a breath as he faked putting the sealed missive inside. Sure, the guards were watching, but his back was to them and it was far enough away they wouldn't notice. Hell, the envelope he did have was indeed official, the stamp authentic, the words and signatures true. But that didn't matter.

He had to only give the perception it was delivered. What happens to the supposedly delivered letter after that wouldn't be his fault, since, well, they all saw him deliver it... right? Hell, all he had to do was burn it so there was no chance of being caught with the damn thing.

He struggled to resisting writhing in the seat. Incapable of directly understanding the cause, it was as challenging as suppressing a reflex. The small-keen didn't care before if he couldn't see the man, but now he cared very much to stare him down with eyes like daggers. For the first time in quite a while Rizzrack felt threatened.

"You are NOT going to come near me AGAIN!" He hissed. Faced with the threat of destruction, he needed to prepare himself. He needed this Truth and he couldn't allow the Nothing inside him to take that away!

That is, IF there was Nothing inside him... but he wasn't going to wait around and find out.

"You don't know what you're messing with. I'm warning you, you'll find something you won't like one bit. The transformative power of the Ancient can obliterate the unprepared! Leave, if you value your existence!"

Gerard's hands had long left the sides of Rizzrack's head, yet he still wrestled with the odd sensations that lingered. It was no longer subtle like static, but instead felt like a warm ooze that slowly trickled down his scalp.

It faded gradually, bringing with it the illusion of recovery. Yes, he assured himself. The Ancient was stronger than this mortal.

"Now now, Rizzrack. That's not very nice." His voice carried more of a mocking tone than sincere admonishment, "Do you mean to tell me that this Ancient can use it's powers through you, like some sort of proxy?" With his ranting from before, he doubted the Small-keen would even know. Hell, this whole reaction felt like bluster from someone cornered and now realizing it. All bark and no bite.

He leaned in slightly closer still.

There was a fracture in the small-keen's expression. His eyes, wide with fear, pleaded with Gerard to leave him be. His mouth, on the other hand, slowly stretched into a snarling grin. "What would I do? That's simple: I would kill you."

Gerard gave a tight-lipped smile, his eyes peering down at the small-keen in a way that more appropriately matched Rizzrack's animalistic grin. "Hm, don't you mean your Ancient would kill me? After all you seem quite adamant on letting me know every action of yours is to fulfill the will of something greater. Don't think I haven't been listening."

The young man's expression lightened up, finding this particular case to be as amusing as it is intriguing. He took a knee to bring himself down face to face with his subject. His hands rose up, palms facing inward as they stretched out to hover over Rizzrack once more. This position was slightly less comfortable, but he wanted to closely observe the way this keen's behaviour shifted. Previous subjects showed almost no awareness of Gerard's unique style of examination. After all, it was a style that required no "direct" contact with another's field, setting it apart from more invasive and dangerous methods like mind casting. He need only rely on his senses.

Sensations began to ripple across his palms. Gerard searched for the subtlest of textures, thermal traces, and other properties common to the body of auras. Instead he found a surprising lack of it save for the abundant sensation of malleable surface. He had never felt anything like that before. His Touch was so light as to not cause disturbances, that he wondered just how fragile and delicate this mind was.

Meanwhile Rizzrack froze up in response to Gerard's probing. The small-keen was nearly motionless save for the back and forth darting of his eyes, trapped in a trance of reading a never ending page of words. Beneath the surface, memories stirred up like silt from the bottom of a still pond, further clouding his already dark mind.

It was a moonless night, yet an ethereal glow illuminated the bodies all around. There laid the body of the elder druid, S̴̗͍̳̗̣͛̇͒̈́̿̅̐͊̇͠a̵̼̗͑̉̈̂́͗͊̉̓͊̏̏̎͝͝v̵̥̼̎̽́͆͛̌.̸̨̨̨̛̥̗͖̖̙͔̙̬̣̞̠̠̱̈́̋̈́͑̃̿̀̉͑̉.̵͈̭̝̭̗̜̳̖̪͒̽͗̂̒̎̏̉̔̋̆t̷͎͉̘̭̘̯͕͆̀̏̆̓̔͂͛͒̿̔͌͋ͅ.̷̰͖͕͇̈́̐̈͐̊̆̚.̷̭̻͕̎̚ờ̴̳͉͓̤̦͓̲̗̼̗̹͔̪̃̃͑̒̈́͋͑̔̈s̴̭͙͆͋͊̽̏̀́̋, back soaked by a dark sheen, surrounded by the bodies of men, women, and c̴̮̞͖̩̹̼̣͔͉̭͇̻̻͔͍̗̪̈́͆̊̏̆̾̄̂̃͑̀̓̚͘͝͝h̵̢̧̡̼͔̹̲͔̘̮̲̜̦͉̃̓̀̉̓̀́̋ͅi̶̡̛̖̗͓̗̻̳̹̣̬̗̳̩̳̙̱͑́̍̈̽̿̀̊͐̐̆́̈́͘͜͝l̵̗͉̭͙̮̝͊̌͌̔͗̃̌̈́d̸̳̯̖̝͈̱̯̭͖̭̎̀̃̑̀̒́̊͆̍͝ŗ̴̢͇̜͈͌̃͌̀̇̋̿̾̃̿̅ę̵̪̥̗̜̣͙̙͙̗̦̘̃͌̃͂̓̀̄̃̋͆̌͐͐̕̕͝ņ̶̯̳̫̞̪̊̅̈́̐̈́͒̿͜͠ of nature. Among the bodies stood out the corpse of an unfortunate ogre, but it didn't end there. The spreading glow illuminated an expanse of c̷̡̯͉̹̖̦͖͚͓̓̈́̑̄̑͠o̶̡͙͎͉͗̍̀̃̋̈́̈̄͐̕͝ư̷̢͈̟̣͕̭̎̀̾́̎̒́n̴̬̖̤̆̄̊́́̎̓͌̐̌̒̓̂t̸̛̤͖̳͈̜̩̙̼̳̲̘̂̉̽̐́̍͋͌̀͋̆͊̊l̵̡̨̤͍̗̀͑͌͐̐̈́̆́̂͒̓̎̓̅͌͘͝ę̷̩͚̲̭̅̈́͑̊̊̽͋̆̚s̴̲̫̼̮̯̖̮̥̞̔̊̈̈́͘͝ͅs̵̨̹̩̻͕̟̫̬̬̭͉̯̝͍̮͋͗ ̸̨̝̼̬̗̖̲͒͋̐́̎d̵͚̳̮̤̠̲̓̎͆̍̏͛͑̈̀̒́̂͠i̶̡̛̺͕͙͈̰͈͙̘͓͎͊͛́̄͝͝s̵̙̞̬̗̠̹̦̠̬̣͓͎̈̆̉̃̍̀̃̿́͠f̸̣̈́̋̈́́̎͛̄́̿͋́͌̓̄̚̚i̶̢̢͖̠̪̻͇͚̠̭̙̜̒͜͝ġ̴̢̝̘͈̺̺̜͉͜u̸̡͔̜̝̭͙̳̰̘͖̇́̓̅̏̒̔̑̀̈̑͠ŗ̶̟̘̫̹̩͋̓̂͛̑̈́̅͂̕͜ę̶̣̜͍̯̗͕̤̣̼̬̦̏̌̽̀̓́̍̄̕͝d̴̛̤͎͍̭̲͉̠̍̿͊̐̽̀̑͐́͛͂̅ ̵̨̬̘̫̦̙̺̒̿̀̾̍̓k̸̢̧̝̹̖̯̝̘̦͗̿́͋͘e̷̠̠̋̿ḙ̷̢̨̟̦̜̬̙̩̭̠͈͒̽̌̈́̐͂̿͋̀͜͝ņ̶̨̛̛͉͍͉̲̪͍̞͕̺͚̳̘̭͒̋̾̋͗̍̓̌͛͑̀͂̈̽͜f̵̨̛̛͙̝͖̰͍̤̱̖̞͍̌̒̑̒͝ỏ̶̜͙͒͑̾͗̎̍̈́̆̄͝͠ľ̵̨͗̿̀̎͗̏ḵ̵̡̧̨̧̣̥̘̥͎̹͕̲̥̑̃̿͛͆͛͆̏̓́̎̚̚̚͝͝͝ͅ ̴̧̹̟̠̰̜̘͕̙̼̠͕̝̩͊̑͐t̴̯̊̏̃́̉̈́͌͊̍̌͝ḩ̴̡̱̽̈́̆̔͆͐̎̓̃á̵̯̈́̑͊̆͆͗͂̏͐̅́̒t̷̪͈͔͌̀ ̸̟̟̭̤̼͔̰̲̼͈͈̫̣̞͕̖̬̒͛̄͐͒͐̀̒͑͝͠͝ḩ̸͙͈̬̺͍͆̃̄̿̌̽̋̊̕a̸̧̹̻͕̺̥̼̼̗͎̎̾̂̈́̊̔͋̃̍̚͜ṽ̷̢̝͕̤̻̫̠̱̩̩͗̉̎͋͗̍͂̇̆͝e̵̹̪̬̳̺̘̫͍͓̙͍͈͂͒̒͌͆̃́ ̷̬͙̠̙̖̙̙͙͔͈̻̬̭͇͙̦̄̓̄̈́͂͠ͅḇ̸̨̧̭̣̩͍̘̘̘͈̳̤̠̙̹͖̾͛͝ę̷̢͖͚̦̺̰͈̝̬͉̤̞̝̰́͐͗͜ͅẻ̷̢͇̟̰̤̯͙̌̋́̆̎̈n̴̡̢̡̼͓͇͇̬͈͔͍͇̞͉̹̆̿̈́̃̄͜ ̶̛̞̽̊͑̈́̉̌̌̾̇͊̈́̿c̴̛̛̘̿̌̈́̈́̂͒́̍̂̚r̸̬͓͕̥̫͉̟̟̥͚͚̻̭̽ṳ̴̧̹͌̑̀̓̉̈́̌̈́̌̈́̀͛͜͝͝͠s̴̖̣͕̰͉͕̻̙͇̮̯̪̯̅̃̍h̸͎͔͍̬͍̻̞̣͇̻̿͐̎̀̇ĕ̵̡̝̝̥̦̳͎̖̯̠̯̰̰̟̖̪̇̆̔̀̊̒͛̃̓̿̉̚̚ͅd̶̡͙͙̓̌̓̑̋̄̏͐̇̊̎͋̆͌͂͝,̶̫͓͌ ̵̡̨̣̭̩̝̖̘͖̺̩̔̄͒̋̇̈́̾͆̆́̉͗̈́̄̔r̶̢̟͉̠͓̻͓̼̬̠̠̤̒̊̂͆i̷̢̱̬͚̳̓̂̓̒͗̚p̷̼͓̤͍̙̀̂̋̈̆͊̐̀͌̿̈̃̎̚͜p̶͎̬̩̪̘̤̱͍̮̭͚̤̫͖͕̉͋͐̉̏̎̓͊͠ĕ̸̛̟̦̙̲̙̺̝̇̓͑͑͒̌̑͘̕͘͝d̴̛̛͓̼͆̔̋ ̷̢̫̦̩͕͖̤̼̘̿͊̂̅̎̄͑̈́̀͊̕͘͝͠ä̸̩̜̘̱̘̈̄̓ͅS̴̤̮̳͎̪̜̟̝̦̏̄̾́̊̏̐͜͠͝p̸̧̘̥̘̱̘̗̲̩̼̯̤̪͓̬̙̓͗́̓̌ͅT̸̢̡̨̧͔͖͕̜͎̺̮̬̺̍͠ą̴̮̜̮͈͍͕̰̯̭̲̌̆͝R̸̨̭͔̦̲̙̮͇͓̟͇̺͉̪͇͈̈r̶̨̛̗̝̲̳̘͈̞̣̻̒̽͌̀̑͌̈́̌̽͂͘͠͝Ä̷̻̲͍̭͆̓̔̑̐͜t̵̳̠͓̺̩̹̆ͅN̵̛͉͎͖̤͈̫̜͇̫̞͙̖̿́̅̋̅̑̔̾̅͗̀͑̊͒͠G̷̢̛̱̜͍͉͈̪͍̀̈͆̑͜͝L̷̢̗̼̟̠͖̝̗̗̖̟̗̥̺̭͂̅̍̾͒̃̾͂̈́̆̆̌̎̔̕͘͜É̴̘̝͖̗̌̾̈̈́̎̔͠Ḏ̸̨̛̹̉̑̀̐́͘̕ , and… The memory of a hand grabbing his boot. It pulled itself from the darkness and rose up before him, the glow forming a black sihlouette around this unseen corpse. It gazed down at him with glowing eyes that flickered icy blue and emerald green, scorching the object off its ire with an burning hate.

The timing couldn't be more perfect when a knock was heard at the door, keys unlocking it seconds after. In walked Elowen, the time having passed much faster than anticipated. Her eyes noticed the pink ears lulled to one side, peeking out from behind the chair's back, unmoving. Giving no words, her look spoke more than enough.

"Moment ago he passed out. From what, I'm not even certain..." How to even explain? Gerard gestured for her to sit as well, pushing the neat pile of writing towards her.

"I hope you have more answers than that."

"Of course. Hm... I'll start with the basics then, yes? First and formost: I'm certain the Silencer played no roll in this one's oddities of the mind. There was no superficial or recent tampering to speak of."

Elowen sunk in her seat with a deep sigh. She wasn't sure if it was one of frustration, or of relief, however. Yes, this was good news that the Warden remained honest- but then what was the issue here? "Wait, you said oddities, meaning you found something out of place."

Elowen’s finger tugged at the corner of her lip in thought as her eyes stopped scanning Gerard’s notes for a moment, attention grabbed by a spontaneous recollection of interesting details. Ancients, Nemesis stones, bonds… Although this Keen couldn’t be reliable, the Warden’s earlier reactions to this Keen were.

“While most of what he spews is fanatical nonsense, I have reason to believe his claims are not completely unfounded. He may have a flawed understanding of what he knows, but I know someone who does not.” She read over Gerard’s notes again, her thoughts redirecting themselves once more towards the Warden with renewed scrutiny. A few slips in his discussion let on that he knew a lot more about Rizzrack’s assertions than he would have liked her to know. Now that’s another thing, if that man didn’t act like he had something to hide then maybe this all could be irrelevant… But she could never allow herself to accept an easy explanation. Instead she began to wonder what it would take to have the Warden examined as well. Perhaps mention of potential harm as a result of invasive Keenfolk tech. Hmm….

“With such an invaluable skill, you’re proving to be a valuable asset in my investigation.” An investigation that’s quite a big deal to anyone in-the-know. “I see more than just a Recommendation for you in your future….”

——

“Hmhmm, now why would anyone ever need to protect themselves from-from trees of all things?”

The sound of intellectual chuckling filled the room. On the far right, a Keen with a fat cigar as thick as his fingers exhaled a thick plume of smoke into the air. His coughs were punctuated with a few choking laughs. “Now if you’d said ‘tree-rats’ then I’d have said ‘Sure! I know Krimwohl’d be looking to buy!’ But to fill my trains with…” He held up the drawing with dramatic scrutiny, eyes squinting through his lenses. “Limbersaws? It’s just not a very sound investment from where I’m sitting.”

The one sat beside him leaned over for a closer look, petting his long white beard with interest. “With a few adjustments, these could be a highly portable alternative to those Logging machines that Redding Company uses. No need for costly technicians traveling to remove locations, repairs could be handled here on site while replacements could be efficiently swapped in. Think of the time and costs saved.”

Although there were only six of them seated behind the curved desk, their figures loomed, the room made by the entirety of their presence. He was trapped there in the middle of it with no way to back out. The small-keen clutched his leather document tube closely to his chest. Through the open mouth of the tube he could hear the sounds of his heart pounding. He didn’t understand. He had always looked forward to the day when he would present his work, his designs, his ideas, to the visionaries of his city. He knew the anticipation would flutter in his stomach, but not like this, not with the excitement he imagined. Instead it twisted up like a wire that bore through his stomach into his heart. It was a bad feeling he couldn’t explain.

The tone in the room began to shift from amusement to reluctant consideration. As soon as a finger pointed to a spot on the drawing, their mutterings swelled with interest. He couldn’t hear them, but he knew what they saw. He had hoped that they saw it. After all it was a conscious choice and not a small oversight on his part.

“Young man, we’ve noticed you haven’t visited with the Patent Office yet.”

“Oh, I have—I mean, I haven’t because I didn’t need to.”

“Didn’t need to?” Chuckled one while packing his pipe so that he may contribute to the haze that already filled the room. “Imagine not needing to secure the exclusive rights of your….”

“The rights aren’t important to me. What’s important is that we prepare for…”

The drawings in their hands were like a magnet that attracted their bearded heads closer in. They couldn’t care less for the young Keen’s noble reasons.

“Aren’t you Skrich’s son?”

“Nephew, actually-“ His correction was met with a dismissive grunt.

“Right. All in my brother’s fabrication guild have heard about you, your uncle’s hard working young apprentice. We were all worried for your well being. To see you here, it must mean your recovery has gone well.” The senior Keen leaned over the desk towards the young Keen, his thin smile piercing through the smokey fog. “Your uncle is a hard-working keen, an excellent role model. I know he does his best to teach you everything he knows. Tell you what, your plans son? They could do with a little more polish, but I like your uncle, he’s got a great shop. I’ll make you an offer. Half base fee for these right here. “ He waved the papers in hand, stirring up the haze with light turbulence. “And I’ll see what’s willing to be made. Now you’ll get no royalties, but if making it real is what matters most to you...”

His chest felt tight. The smoke in the room, it was making it hard to breathe… They still didn’t take him seriously, did they? They didn’t believe he was better, either…

“Y-yes…” He croaked and tried to swallow down the knot in his throat. “I just want to give back to my community, to society for keeping me together.” He just needed to be sure they would be safe….Then everything can be normal again…

The cigar smoking keen promptly rolled up the papers to the protests of some who wished to glean just a little more from the drawings. “Excellent. I’m sure there are more out there who can appreciate your work. Your confidence to stand before us is very telling of your potential.”

He finally left their den, empty tube in one hand, the other mindlessly dropping the heavy coins into his pocket. He needed to hope. He just needed to hope that someone out there can see what he sees. Only then would they realize how important this invention could really be. He knew he couldn’t stop progress, but perhaps he could protect them from their march towards doom.

——

Rizzrack pressed his eyes tightly shut as the front of his brain felt assaulted by waves of buzzing static. His mind was like a combustion cycle, and his brain the poor runaway engine. He knew he had no desire to sleep, but for the first time that no longer felt like a strength. He seethed as he slowly stretched, feeling a foreign soreness on his shoulders. He knew why he was feeling this way. He was Rizzrack.

He couldn't let it distract him. The next distraction could prove disastrous. He had to ignore it. He had to ignore the begging, the pleas, the cries. They needed to just deal with the alarms. Don't they understand that the alarms mean nothing? Why won't they leave him alone? Don't they know they're making him suffer??

Rizzrack squeezed his eyes tight and lightly shook his head to clear away the remnants of that uncomfortable sensation. Just as he was finally getting back in control of submitting himself to a higher power, he becomes unsettled. It's not me, it's them. Rizzrack wanted to ask the man just what it was he was doing, but to ask would mean to care. No, he's not supposed to care. He's not supposed to need unimportant details. He's not supposed to wonder if this was the "torture" that Silencer warned him about. He's not supposed to wonder if it's torture if it doesn't hurt. He's not supposed to wonder if it could ever hurt at all.

Rizzrack ignored the sound of paper being scratched with ink. He also ignored the soft mutterings of observations going on behind him. Rizzrack especially ignored the uncomfortable feeling that lurked about in the dark corners of the room.

"Just what are you doing, exactly?" Rizzrack finally said. He assured himself that he wasn't asking for answers, he just needed to shift his attention to somewhere else and this was an acceptable means to do so. "Trying to open my mind? Attempting to unlock the answers to the universe? If you come to Know The Truth and the Power of The Ancient, then you too can reunite with The Whole that awaits at The End."

"Save me? From what?" Finishing his notes, he removed his coat and hung it on the corner of the desk, it's length bunching under and onto the floor. Mentally he went through a check list of what he needed to do next, when the Small-Keen's words sudenly dawned on him. Apathetic ignoring turned to curriosity.

"Wait- did you say the Ancient?" The secrets hidden behind this mysterious case of a hidden lab just got even more interesting. What really was going on here? Everyone had been so very 'hush-hush' about the entire thing, leaving far too much to speculation and gossip. The only facts that could be considered consistant were the fact a secret tunnel of workshops or labs existed under that block, and the the Silencer was involved some how. But beyond that?

"Oh yes, yes of course! But first I must correct you it's How is all of this involved with the Ancient? Now that is a very good question!" Rizzrack punctuated with his finger. "Thank you for asking!" He passionately began to spill out every little thing he had come to understand, unaware of the possibility Gerard might not be taking any of his words in earnest faith.

Stepping back to Rizzrack's side and rolling up his sleaves, a brow dcocked in the expression one would give a child telling you a grand tale. Humoring them but not actually believing a word.

"Trees? Why trees of all things? Why anything, if we're supposedly fighting nothing in the end? You say trees are nothing, so then that means nothing is a threat. We are safe, by your own words." He still had no idea what this had to do with the Ancient, and was begining to think Rizzrack didn't know either.

***

Returning to her desk, Elowen's eyes jumped to the new envelope resting on it's surface. Breaking the seal, that of the Official magistrate medical ward, her eyes widened as she read it's contents.

"But that doesn't mean we stand idly by. We need to take action! Trees are just one of the many things against us. Against ME! You see, when I was a young boy--" The small-keen rambled on, the sharing of his story was a gratifying excuse indirectly scratch towards an unidentified itch. He could go just a little further... "--and see, it was our way of life. When life gives you logs, make lumber."

Rizzrack only became aware of Gerard's hands returning to the space around his head when he felt the subtle sensation fuzzy static. It tingled him as if the hands moved any closer he would be shocked. He had the urge to shiver, yet felt no anticipation, and so he continued.

"Y'know, they used to say that to know everything is to know nothing. Or was it to know nothing is to know everything? Either way, it doesn't actually matter because--" Tͪhͤeⷱreͭ'ͪsͤ ͬnͤotͬhͥᶻiᶻnͬgͣ ͨwⷦe ͣcͬaͤn ⷱdͦoͧ ᵒᵏᵃʸ...? a mid-thought "ahh" held out as he tried to recall what he was about to say. "... See, we're not meant to make decisions for ourselves. When we follow a self-serving path and not the Gr--" pⷲlͤeaͪsͤeͣ ͬwhⷱyͦ ͧwoⷬᶫnͤ'ͣt̾ ͤsʲoͧm̾eͭbᶫoͤdͭy ͧl̾isͪtͤᶫeⷬn ⷱtͦoͧ me

"Uh, ahm, hey this, whatever you're doing? Yeah I think it needs to stop and you should take whatever you have now and go."

The ever creeping awareness that his guiding force had faded dawned slowly on him. It was faint at first, but over time grew weaker, ever since that....Silencer! Ever since he came to meddle with and obstruct his mission... He was no different than the trees, a force sent to destroy him. But unlike the trees who played a part in his making, this Silencer was going to be his undoing.

Rizzrack tensed up as Gerard showed no intention of stopping. He needed to feel it. He needed to feel it just once, just to know he still had it. His existence depended on it. He just had to reach down for that feeling, that liberating force... That no good bastard.

Somewhere locked away in a safe within a safe, the coveted ruby red stone quivered. The properties of the chest hid it away from the senses of the small-keen, but the artifact was equally compelled to seek. Within the larger safe the faintest sounds could be heard...

There came a point where even he had to concede the fight and pull back, hands faultering as they pulled away and the connection slowly broke. It wasn't until fully severed that the man realized just how much that had drained him. Elowen was right to assume something was amiss, but it was unlike anything he had felt before. It most certainly wasn't from the Silencer either.

"You---" A shame he only had a couple of hours here. It would be a great test of fortitude and his skills to run the maze that was Rizzrack's mind; To was away the grime and see clearly what this influence was and where it came from. Given what he had experienced, however? That would take much, much longer than the remaining hour.

Gerard staggered slightly as he rest against the desk. Notes. He had to take notes, and in as much detail as he could muster. As for the one behind him... "I really do wonder what is pulling at your strings like a puppet master- I have never known a presence such as this. Impressive, as I know quite a bit about mental intrusions."

***

The Estate never did feel welcoming, and honestly, that made a lot of sense given you really didn't want to be here for any reason. The boy could see their eyes still watching him, the guards at the gate who had let him in to drop off the letter, knowing he needed only to go to the box and back again. Easy. Despite this, the looming rock butresses and arches of the old building crept upwards at unnerving angles and imposing heights, stalling his steps for a moment before finally forcing himself to press forward.

The mailbox was locked tight, with a single small slit for papers and envelopes to slide in but not be drawn back out again. Well, at least not from this side. When the hatch creaked at being disturbed the boy jumped, stabalizing himself with a breath as he faked putting the sealed missive inside. Sure, the guards were watching, but his back was to them and it was far enough away they wouldn't notice. Hell, the envelope he did have was indeed official, the stamp authentic, the words and signatures true. But that didn't matter.

He had to only give the perception it was delivered. What happens to the supposedly delivered letter after that wouldn't be his fault, since, well, they all saw him deliver it... right? Hell, all he had to do was burn it so there was no chance of being caught with the damn thing.

He struggled to resisting writhing in the seat. Incapable of directly understanding the cause, it was as challenging as suppressing a reflex. The small-keen didn't care before if he couldn't see the man, but now he cared very much to stare him down with eyes like daggers. For the first time in quite a while Rizzrack felt threatened.

"You are NOT going to come near me AGAIN!" He hissed. Faced with the threat of destruction, he needed to prepare himself. He needed this Truth and he couldn't allow the Nothing inside him to take that away!

That is, IF there was Nothing inside him... but he wasn't going to wait around and find out.

"You don't know what you're messing with. I'm warning you, you'll find something you won't like one bit. The transformative power of the Ancient can obliterate the unprepared! Leave, if you value your existence!"

Gerard's hands had long left the sides of Rizzrack's head, yet he still wrestled with the odd sensations that lingered. It was no longer subtle like static, but instead felt like a warm ooze that slowly trickled down his scalp.

It faded gradually, bringing with it the illusion of recovery. Yes, he assured himself. The Ancient was stronger than this mortal.

"Now now, Rizzrack. That's not very nice." His voice carried more of a mocking tone than sincere admonishment, "Do you mean to tell me that this Ancient can use it's powers through you, like some sort of proxy?" With his ranting from before, he doubted the Small-keen would even know. Hell, this whole reaction felt like bluster from someone cornered and now realizing it. All bark and no bite.

He leaned in slightly closer still.

There was a fracture in the small-keen's expression. His eyes, wide with fear, pleaded with Gerard to leave him be. His mouth, on the other hand, slowly stretched into a snarling grin. "What would I do? That's simple: I would kill you."

Gerard gave a tight-lipped smile, his eyes peering down at the small-keen in a way that more appropriately matched Rizzrack's animalistic grin. "Hm, don't you mean your Ancient would kill me? After all you seem quite adamant on letting me know every action of yours is to fulfill the will of something greater. Don't think I haven't been listening."

The young man's expression lightened up, finding this particular case to be as amusing as it is intriguing. He took a knee to bring himself down face to face with his subject. His hands rose up, palms facing inward as they stretched out to hover over Rizzrack once more. This position was slightly less comfortable, but he wanted to closely observe the way this keen's behaviour shifted. Previous subjects showed almost no awareness of Gerard's unique style of examination. After all, it was a style that required no "direct" contact with another's field, setting it apart from more invasive and dangerous methods like mind casting. He need only rely on his senses.

Sensations began to ripple across his palms. Gerard searched for the subtlest of textures, thermal traces, and other properties common to the body of auras. Instead he found a surprising lack of it save for the abundant sensation of malleable surface. He had never felt anything like that before. His Touch was so light as to not cause disturbances, that he wondered just how fragile and delicate this mind was.

Meanwhile Rizzrack froze up in response to Gerard's probing. The small-keen was nearly motionless save for the back and forth darting of his eyes, trapped in a trance of reading a never ending page of words. Beneath the surface, memories stirred up like silt from the bottom of a still pond, further clouding his already dark mind.

It was a moonless night, yet an ethereal glow illuminated the bodies all around. There laid the body of the elder druid, S̴̗͍̳̗̣͛̇͒̈́̿̅̐͊̇͠a̵̼̗͑̉̈̂́͗͊̉̓͊̏̏̎͝͝v̵̥̼̎̽́͆͛̌.̸̨̨̨̛̥̗͖̖̙͔̙̬̣̞̠̠̱̈́̋̈́͑̃̿̀̉͑̉.̵͈̭̝̭̗̜̳̖̪͒̽͗̂̒̎̏̉̔̋̆t̷͎͉̘̭̘̯͕͆̀̏̆̓̔͂͛͒̿̔͌͋ͅ.̷̰͖͕͇̈́̐̈͐̊̆̚.̷̭̻͕̎̚ờ̴̳͉͓̤̦͓̲̗̼̗̹͔̪̃̃͑̒̈́͋͑̔̈s̴̭͙͆͋͊̽̏̀́̋, back soaked by a dark sheen, surrounded by the bodies of men, women, and c̴̮̞͖̩̹̼̣͔͉̭͇̻̻͔͍̗̪̈́͆̊̏̆̾̄̂̃͑̀̓̚͘͝͝h̵̢̧̡̼͔̹̲͔̘̮̲̜̦͉̃̓̀̉̓̀́̋ͅi̶̡̛̖̗͓̗̻̳̹̣̬̗̳̩̳̙̱͑́̍̈̽̿̀̊͐̐̆́̈́͘͜͝l̵̗͉̭͙̮̝͊̌͌̔͗̃̌̈́d̸̳̯̖̝͈̱̯̭͖̭̎̀̃̑̀̒́̊͆̍͝ŗ̴̢͇̜͈͌̃͌̀̇̋̿̾̃̿̅ę̵̪̥̗̜̣͙̙͙̗̦̘̃͌̃͂̓̀̄̃̋͆̌͐͐̕̕͝ņ̶̯̳̫̞̪̊̅̈́̐̈́͒̿͜͠ of nature. Among the bodies stood out the corpse of an unfortunate ogre, but it didn't end there. The spreading glow illuminated an expanse of c̷̡̯͉̹̖̦͖͚͓̓̈́̑̄̑͠o̶̡͙͎͉͗̍̀̃̋̈́̈̄͐̕͝ư̷̢͈̟̣͕̭̎̀̾́̎̒́n̴̬̖̤̆̄̊́́̎̓͌̐̌̒̓̂t̸̛̤͖̳͈̜̩̙̼̳̲̘̂̉̽̐́̍͋͌̀͋̆͊̊l̵̡̨̤͍̗̀͑͌͐̐̈́̆́̂͒̓̎̓̅͌͘͝ę̷̩͚̲̭̅̈́͑̊̊̽͋̆̚s̴̲̫̼̮̯̖̮̥̞̔̊̈̈́͘͝ͅs̵̨̹̩̻͕̟̫̬̬̭͉̯̝͍̮͋͗ ̸̨̝̼̬̗̖̲͒͋̐́̎d̵͚̳̮̤̠̲̓̎͆̍̏͛͑̈̀̒́̂͠i̶̡̛̺͕͙͈̰͈͙̘͓͎͊͛́̄͝͝s̵̙̞̬̗̠̹̦̠̬̣͓͎̈̆̉̃̍̀̃̿́͠f̸̣̈́̋̈́́̎͛̄́̿͋́͌̓̄̚̚i̶̢̢͖̠̪̻͇͚̠̭̙̜̒͜͝ġ̴̢̝̘͈̺̺̜͉͜u̸̡͔̜̝̭͙̳̰̘͖̇́̓̅̏̒̔̑̀̈̑͠ŗ̶̟̘̫̹̩͋̓̂͛̑̈́̅͂̕͜ę̶̣̜͍̯̗͕̤̣̼̬̦̏̌̽̀̓́̍̄̕͝d̴̛̤͎͍̭̲͉̠̍̿͊̐̽̀̑͐́͛͂̅ ̵̨̬̘̫̦̙̺̒̿̀̾̍̓k̸̢̧̝̹̖̯̝̘̦͗̿́͋͘e̷̠̠̋̿ḙ̷̢̨̟̦̜̬̙̩̭̠͈͒̽̌̈́̐͂̿͋̀͜͝ņ̶̨̛̛͉͍͉̲̪͍̞͕̺͚̳̘̭͒̋̾̋͗̍̓̌͛͑̀͂̈̽͜f̵̨̛̛͙̝͖̰͍̤̱̖̞͍̌̒̑̒͝ỏ̶̜͙͒͑̾͗̎̍̈́̆̄͝͠ľ̵̨͗̿̀̎͗̏ḵ̵̡̧̨̧̣̥̘̥͎̹͕̲̥̑̃̿͛͆͛͆̏̓́̎̚̚̚͝͝͝ͅ ̴̧̹̟̠̰̜̘͕̙̼̠͕̝̩͊̑͐t̴̯̊̏̃́̉̈́͌͊̍̌͝ḩ̴̡̱̽̈́̆̔͆͐̎̓̃á̵̯̈́̑͊̆͆͗͂̏͐̅́̒t̷̪͈͔͌̀ ̸̟̟̭̤̼͔̰̲̼͈͈̫̣̞͕̖̬̒͛̄͐͒͐̀̒͑͝͠͝ḩ̸͙͈̬̺͍͆̃̄̿̌̽̋̊̕a̸̧̹̻͕̺̥̼̼̗͎̎̾̂̈́̊̔͋̃̍̚͜ṽ̷̢̝͕̤̻̫̠̱̩̩͗̉̎͋͗̍͂̇̆͝e̵̹̪̬̳̺̘̫͍͓̙͍͈͂͒̒͌͆̃́ ̷̬͙̠̙̖̙̙͙͔͈̻̬̭͇͙̦̄̓̄̈́͂͠ͅḇ̸̨̧̭̣̩͍̘̘̘͈̳̤̠̙̹͖̾͛͝ę̷̢͖͚̦̺̰͈̝̬͉̤̞̝̰́͐͗͜ͅẻ̷̢͇̟̰̤̯͙̌̋́̆̎̈n̴̡̢̡̼͓͇͇̬͈͔͍͇̞͉̹̆̿̈́̃̄͜ ̶̛̞̽̊͑̈́̉̌̌̾̇͊̈́̿c̴̛̛̘̿̌̈́̈́̂͒́̍̂̚r̸̬͓͕̥̫͉̟̟̥͚͚̻̭̽ṳ̴̧̹͌̑̀̓̉̈́̌̈́̌̈́̀͛͜͝͝͠s̴̖̣͕̰͉͕̻̙͇̮̯̪̯̅̃̍h̸͎͔͍̬͍̻̞̣͇̻̿͐̎̀̇ĕ̵̡̝̝̥̦̳͎̖̯̠̯̰̰̟̖̪̇̆̔̀̊̒͛̃̓̿̉̚̚ͅd̶̡͙͙̓̌̓̑̋̄̏͐̇̊̎͋̆͌͂͝,̶̫͓͌ ̵̡̨̣̭̩̝̖̘͖̺̩̔̄͒̋̇̈́̾͆̆́̉͗̈́̄̔r̶̢̟͉̠͓̻͓̼̬̠̠̤̒̊̂͆i̷̢̱̬͚̳̓̂̓̒͗̚p̷̼͓̤͍̙̀̂̋̈̆͊̐̀͌̿̈̃̎̚͜p̶͎̬̩̪̘̤̱͍̮̭͚̤̫͖͕̉͋͐̉̏̎̓͊͠ĕ̸̛̟̦̙̲̙̺̝̇̓͑͑͒̌̑͘̕͘͝d̴̛̛͓̼͆̔̋ ̷̢̫̦̩͕͖̤̼̘̿͊̂̅̎̄͑̈́̀͊̕͘͝͠ä̸̩̜̘̱̘̈̄̓ͅS̴̤̮̳͎̪̜̟̝̦̏̄̾́̊̏̐͜͠͝p̸̧̘̥̘̱̘̗̲̩̼̯̤̪͓̬̙̓͗́̓̌ͅT̸̢̡̨̧͔͖͕̜͎̺̮̬̺̍͠ą̴̮̜̮͈͍͕̰̯̭̲̌̆͝R̸̨̭͔̦̲̙̮͇͓̟͇̺͉̪͇͈̈r̶̨̛̗̝̲̳̘͈̞̣̻̒̽͌̀̑͌̈́̌̽͂͘͠͝Ä̷̻̲͍̭͆̓̔̑̐͜t̵̳̠͓̺̩̹̆ͅN̵̛͉͎͖̤͈̫̜͇̫̞͙̖̿́̅̋̅̑̔̾̅͗̀͑̊͒͠G̷̢̛̱̜͍͉͈̪͍̀̈͆̑͜͝L̷̢̗̼̟̠͖̝̗̗̖̟̗̥̺̭͂̅̍̾͒̃̾͂̈́̆̆̌̎̔̕͘͜É̴̘̝͖̗̌̾̈̈́̎̔͠Ḏ̸̨̛̹̉̑̀̐́͘̕ , and… The memory of a hand grabbing his boot. It pulled itself from the darkness and rose up before him, the glow forming a black sihlouette around this unseen corpse. It gazed down at him with glowing eyes that flickered icy blue and emerald green, scorching the object off its ire with an burning hate.

He couldn't let it distract him. The next distraction could prove disastrous. He had to ignore it. He had to ignore the begging, the pleas, the cries. They needed to just deal with the alarms. Don't they understand that the alarms mean nothing? Why won't they leave him alone? Don't they know they're making him suffer??

Rizzrack squeezed his eyes tight and lightly shook his head to clear away the remnants of that uncomfortable sensation. Just as he was finally getting back in control of submitting himself to a higher power, he becomes unsettled. It's not me, it's them. Rizzrack wanted to ask the man just what it was he was doing, but to ask would mean to care. No, he's not supposed to care. He's not supposed to need unimportant details. He's not supposed to wonder if this was the "torture" that Silencer warned him about. He's not supposed to wonder if it's torture if it doesn't hurt. He's not supposed to wonder if it could ever hurt at all.

Rizzrack ignored the sound of paper being scratched with ink. He also ignored the soft mutterings of observations going on behind him. Rizzrack especially ignored the uncomfortable feeling that lurked about in the dark corners of the room.

"Just what are you doing, exactly?" Rizzrack finally said. He assured himself that he wasn't asking for answers, he just needed to shift his attention to somewhere else and this was an acceptable means to do so. "Trying to open my mind? Attempting to unlock the answers to the universe? If you come to Know The Truth and the Power of The Ancient, then you too can reunite with The Whole that awaits at The End."

"Save me? From what?" Finishing his notes, he removed his coat and hung it on the corner of the desk, it's length bunching under and onto the floor. Mentally he went through a check list of what he needed to do next, when the Small-Keen's words sudenly dawned on him. Apathetic ignoring turned to curriosity.

"Wait- did you say the Ancient?" The secrets hidden behind this mysterious case of a hidden lab just got even more interesting. What really was going on here? Everyone had been so very 'hush-hush' about the entire thing, leaving far too much to speculation and gossip. The only facts that could be considered consistant were the fact a secret tunnel of workshops or labs existed under that block, and the the Silencer was involved some how. But beyond that?

"Oh yes, yes of course! But first I must correct you it's How is all of this involved with the Ancient? Now that is a very good question!" Rizzrack punctuated with his finger. "Thank you for asking!" He passionately began to spill out every little thing he had come to understand, unaware of the possibility Gerard might not be taking any of his words in earnest faith.

Stepping back to Rizzrack's side and rolling up his sleaves, a brow dcocked in the expression one would give a child telling you a grand tale. Humoring them but not actually believing a word.

"Trees? Why trees of all things? Why anything, if we're supposedly fighting nothing in the end? You say trees are nothing, so then that means nothing is a threat. We are safe, by your own words." He still had no idea what this had to do with the Ancient, and was begining to think Rizzrack didn't know either.

***

Returning to her desk, Elowen's eyes jumped to the new envelope resting on it's surface. Breaking the seal, that of the Official magistrate medical ward, her eyes widened as she read it's contents.

"But that doesn't mean we stand idly by. We need to take action! Trees are just one of the many things against us. Against ME! You see, when I was a young boy--" The small-keen rambled on, the sharing of his story was a gratifying excuse indirectly scratch towards an unidentified itch. He could go just a little further... "--and see, it was our way of life. When life gives you logs, make lumber."

Rizzrack only became aware of Gerard's hands returning to the space around his head when he felt the subtle sensation fuzzy static. It tingled him as if the hands moved any closer he would be shocked. He had the urge to shiver, yet felt no anticipation, and so he continued.

"Y'know, they used to say that to know everything is to know nothing. Or was it to know nothing is to know everything? Either way, it doesn't actually matter because--" Tͪhͤeⷱreͭ'ͪsͤ ͬnͤotͬhͥᶻiᶻnͬgͣ ͨwⷦe ͣcͬaͤn ⷱdͦoͧ ᵒᵏᵃʸ...? a mid-thought "ahh" held out as he tried to recall what he was about to say. "... See, we're not meant to make decisions for ourselves. When we follow a self-serving path and not the Gr--" pⷲlͤeaͪsͤeͣ ͬwhⷱyͦ ͧwoⷬᶫnͤ'ͣt̾ ͤsʲoͧm̾eͭbᶫoͤdͭy ͧl̾isͪtͤᶫeⷬn ⷱtͦoͧ me

"Uh, ahm, hey this, whatever you're doing? Yeah I think it needs to stop and you should take whatever you have now and go."

The ever creeping awareness that his guiding force had faded dawned slowly on him. It was faint at first, but over time grew weaker, ever since that....Silencer! Ever since he came to meddle with and obstruct his mission... He was no different than the trees, a force sent to destroy him. But unlike the trees who played a part in his making, this Silencer was going to be his undoing.

Rizzrack tensed up as Gerard showed no intention of stopping. He needed to feel it. He needed to feel it just once, just to know he still had it. His existence depended on it. He just had to reach down for that feeling, that liberating force... That no good bastard.

Somewhere locked away in a safe within a safe, the coveted ruby red stone quivered. The properties of the chest hid it away from the senses of the small-keen, but the artifact was equally compelled to seek. Within the larger safe the faintest sounds could be heard...

There came a point where even he had to concede the fight and pull back, hands faultering as they pulled away and the connection slowly broke. It wasn't until fully severed that the man realized just how much that had drained him. Elowen was right to assume something was amiss, but it was unlike anything he had felt before. It most certainly wasn't from the Silencer either.

"You---" A shame he only had a couple of hours here. It would be a great test of fortitude and his skills to run the maze that was Rizzrack's mind; To was away the grime and see clearly what this influence was and where it came from. Given what he had experienced, however? That would take much, much longer than the remaining hour.

Gerard staggered slightly as he rest against the desk. Notes. He had to take notes, and in as much detail as he could muster. As for the one behind him... "I really do wonder what is pulling at your strings like a puppet master- I have never known a presence such as this. Impressive, as I know quite a bit about mental intrusions."

***

The Estate never did feel welcoming, and honestly, that made a lot of sense given you really didn't want to be here for any reason. The boy could see their eyes still watching him, the guards at the gate who had let him in to drop off the letter, knowing he needed only to go to the box and back again. Easy. Despite this, the looming rock butresses and arches of the old building crept upwards at unnerving angles and imposing heights, stalling his steps for a moment before finally forcing himself to press forward.

The mailbox was locked tight, with a single small slit for papers and envelopes to slide in but not be drawn back out again. Well, at least not from this side. When the hatch creaked at being disturbed the boy jumped, stabalizing himself with a breath as he faked putting the sealed missive inside. Sure, the guards were watching, but his back was to them and it was far enough away they wouldn't notice. Hell, the envelope he did have was indeed official, the stamp authentic, the words and signatures true. But that didn't matter.

He had to only give the perception it was delivered. What happens to the supposedly delivered letter after that wouldn't be his fault, since, well, they all saw him deliver it... right? Hell, all he had to do was burn it so there was no chance of being caught with the damn thing.

He struggled to resisting writhing in the seat. Incapable of directly understanding the cause, it was as challenging as suppressing a reflex. The small-keen didn't care before if he couldn't see the man, but now he cared very much to stare him down with eyes like daggers. For the first time in quite a while Rizzrack felt threatened.

"You are NOT going to come near me AGAIN!" He hissed. Faced with the threat of destruction, he needed to prepare himself. He needed this Truth and he couldn't allow the Nothing inside him to take that away!

That is, IF there was Nothing inside him... but he wasn't going to wait around and find out.

"You don't know what you're messing with. I'm warning you, you'll find something you won't like one bit. The transformative power of the Ancient can obliterate the unprepared! Leave, if you value your existence!"

Gerard's hands had long left the sides of Rizzrack's head, yet he still wrestled with the odd sensations that lingered. It was no longer subtle like static, but instead felt like a warm ooze that slowly trickled down his scalp.

It faded gradually, bringing with it the illusion of recovery. Yes, he assured himself. The Ancient was stronger than this mortal.

He couldn't let it distract him. The next distraction could prove disastrous. He had to ignore it. He had to ignore the begging, the pleas, the cries. They needed to just deal with the alarms. Don't they understand that the alarms mean nothing? Why won't they leave him alone? Don't they know they're making him suffer??

Rizzrack squeezed his eyes tight and lightly shook his head to clear away the remnants of that uncomfortable sensation. Just as he was finally getting back in control of submitting himself to a higher power, he becomes unsettled. It's not me, it's them. Rizzrack wanted to ask the man just what it was he was doing, but to ask would mean to care. No, he's not supposed to care. He's not supposed to need unimportant details. He's not supposed to wonder if this was the "torture" that Silencer warned him about. He's not supposed to wonder if it's torture if it doesn't hurt. He's not supposed to wonder if it could ever hurt at all.

Rizzrack ignored the sound of paper being scratched with ink. He also ignored the soft mutterings of observations going on behind him. Rizzrack especially ignored the uncomfortable feeling that lurked about in the dark corners of the room.

"Just what are you doing, exactly?" Rizzrack finally said. He assured himself that he wasn't asking for answers, he just needed to shift his attention to somewhere else and this was an acceptable means to do so. "Trying to open my mind? Attempting to unlock the answers to the universe? If you come to Know The Truth and the Power of The Ancient, then you too can reunite with The Whole that awaits at The End."

"Save me? From what?" Finishing his notes, he removed his coat and hung it on the corner of the desk, it's length bunching under and onto the floor. Mentally he went through a check list of what he needed to do next, when the Small-Keen's words sudenly dawned on him. Apathetic ignoring turned to curriosity.

"Wait- did you say the Ancient?" The secrets hidden behind this mysterious case of a hidden lab just got even more interesting. What really was going on here? Everyone had been so very 'hush-hush' about the entire thing, leaving far too much to speculation and gossip. The only facts that could be considered consistant were the fact a secret tunnel of workshops or labs existed under that block, and the the Silencer was involved some how. But beyond that?

"Oh yes, yes of course! But first I must correct you it's How is all of this involved with the Ancient? Now that is a very good question!" Rizzrack punctuated with his finger. "Thank you for asking!" He passionately began to spill out every little thing he had come to understand, unaware of the possibility Gerard might not be taking any of his words in earnest faith.

Stepping back to Rizzrack's side and rolling up his sleaves, a brow dcocked in the expression one would give a child telling you a grand tale. Humoring them but not actually believing a word.

"Trees? Why trees of all things? Why anything, if we're supposedly fighting nothing in the end? You say trees are nothing, so then that means nothing is a threat. We are safe, by your own words." He still had no idea what this had to do with the Ancient, and was begining to think Rizzrack didn't know either.

***

Returning to her desk, Elowen's eyes jumped to the new envelope resting on it's surface. Breaking the seal, that of the Official magistrate medical ward, her eyes widened as she read it's contents.

"But that doesn't mean we stand idly by. We need to take action! Trees are just one of the many things against us. Against ME! You see, when I was a young boy--" The small-keen rambled on, the sharing of his story was a gratifying excuse indirectly scratch towards an unidentified itch. He could go just a little further... "--and see, it was our way of life. When life gives you logs, make lumber."

Rizzrack only became aware of Gerard's hands returning to the space around his head when he felt the subtle sensation fuzzy static. It tingled him as if the hands moved any closer he would be shocked. He had the urge to shiver, yet felt no anticipation, and so he continued.

"Y'know, they used to say that to know everything is to know nothing. Or was it to know nothing is to know everything? Either way, it doesn't actually matter because--" Tͪhͤeⷱreͭ'ͪsͤ ͬnͤotͬhͥᶻiᶻnͬgͣ ͨwⷦe ͣcͬaͤn ⷱdͦoͧ ᵒᵏᵃʸ...? a mid-thought "ahh" held out as he tried to recall what he was about to say. "... See, we're not meant to make decisions for ourselves. When we follow a self-serving path and not the Gr--" pⷲlͤeaͪsͤeͣ ͬwhⷱyͦ ͧwoⷬᶫnͤ'ͣt̾ ͤsʲoͧm̾eͭbᶫoͤdͭy ͧl̾isͪtͤᶫeⷬn ⷱtͦoͧ me

"Uh, ahm, hey this, whatever you're doing? Yeah I think it needs to stop and you should take whatever you have now and go."

The ever creeping awareness that his guiding force had faded dawned slowly on him. It was faint at first, but over time grew weaker, ever since that....Silencer! Ever since he came to meddle with and obstruct his mission... He was no different than the trees, a force sent to destroy him. But unlike the trees who played a part in his making, this Silencer was going to be his undoing.

Rizzrack tensed up as Gerard showed no intention of stopping. He needed to feel it. He needed to feel it just once, just to know he still had it. His existence depended on it. He just had to reach down for that feeling, that liberating force... That no good bastard.

Somewhere locked away in a safe within a safe, the coveted ruby red stone quivered. The properties of the chest hid it away from the senses of the small-keen, but the artifact was equally compelled to seek. Within the larger safe the faintest sounds could be heard...

He grabbed the tin of water and proceeded to dump the contents onto the floor before giving it a few drying shakes. Then taking the bread, he began to crush and tear it, collecting the crumbs with the cup. This will do. He ignored the jerky for now. He didn't want to touch it. Rizzrack sprinkled the crumbs into small piles and lines across the floor. Without any writing medium, he was left to tumble his thoughts about in his head. Now that he had something to use, he could finally write out his proof! It began small, covering an area no wider than his palm. It began with a point. Then lines. Then borders. He thickened intersections with more crumbs, then borders. Dimensions flowed from one order to the next, and each had a fundamental truth. One truth. One order. One universe. One mind. There! The radiant eye. All-seeing. All-knowing.

And within it was all he's ever known. And beyond? The Foe. That caught in the eternal pull of Oblivion seeking to pull in everything else in with it.

Ah-hem. Rizzrack.

At first he paid no mind to the voice. It was a second, more persistent humph that pulled Rizzrack up from his pattern. Through the bars he saw a woman, that one from earlier that visited with the Silencer. Luckily there was no Silencer. He had also been looking forward to seeing her again, as that would be a sign that things were finally going to be moving.

"Rizzra-" Elowen was cut off by the small-keen's exclamations. "Finally, we're going somewhere! Time might be meaningless but it's still a preci-" "Keen!" She snapped. "It would be wise of you to cooperate if you want to have any chance of something going your way. As of right now, very little is in your favor."

"Geesh, when does it end?"

"Ohmygoodnesstob-Is-Is this why it's so hard for me to get anything done? Because you people think 'oh look at the little keen he wants his red shiny rock MADE FROM HIS OWN BLOOD??' Let's not mind our own business because WE THINK WE KNOW BETTER!"

Elowen's brows dug deep at the disrespect. Her mouth hung wordlessly as she moved from surprise to her bearing desperately keeping her indignant fury collected. Before she could even form her next words, Rizzrack started up again.

"All you need to know is that it's mine. It belongs to me because it IS me. I am going to reunite and no one is going to stop me. And I highly suggest you let me out of here if you know what's good for you. Unless you're bad, then you'd definitely want to keep me in here..."

... Well, it wouldn't hurt to ask.

"Are you threatening me? As a member of the Quorum, council prociding over this area, you would do well to watch your tone and choose your words more carefully. Need I remind you that you are in here, due in part, to your actions against the warden, Silencer? For property destruction? Destroying important evidence?"

With nothing else to do with them, her arms crossed both to hold herself back and ground herself in general.

"Figures he wanted to punish me himself." Rizzrack scoffed. "He couldn't even do that. You know what he did? He had me dragged into some room and used his mind powers on me! But that fool doesn't know his tricks don't work on me!" He said puffing out his chest. "So of course when he realized I'm just too much to handle, he sent me back here. How predictable." Rizzrack muttered unimpressed. "He must think you can do a better job of making me regret my actions. I'd like to see anyone try."

Elowen really had to wonder if something was fundamentally wrong with this small-keen. The more he continued to ramble, and the longer she listened, the more she realized he was insane. He ranted about the most trivial of concepts, making them out to be world shattering epiphanies.

Keenfolk weren't a common sight where she's from, but she was still aware of their peculiarities. They were a lot like their creations. Take automata for example, constructed to merely perform life-like actions. When their creations travel into arcane realms, they begin to behave erratically no longer confined to rules, and soon enough begin to horrifically scream with their newly gained voices.

This one was not so different. Keen magic inevitably deconstructed outside of their realm because it was too sane to the point of being insane in its own right. In short: A crazy keen isn't all that unusual, but his first testimonies were at least based in reality and not whatever eternal dark forest he seems to be going on about right now.

But this all felt unusual, and she couldn't just assume the circumstances. She needed to find out if the Warden manipulated this keen's mind in any way. But easier said than done. Besides his earlier testimonies, she was left with little to work with until that other keen finally wakes up. If he ever wakes up.

Elowen unflinchingly stared down at Rizzrack. Manipulated or not, she could still study him. "Alright, that's enough. That's enough." She barked. "Save your breath for your examination. You'll need it. In the meantime..." She ran her hand across the tome she had been carrying in her arm. Its blank cover became decorated with lettering.

Rizzrack watched her continue to pet her book before dropping it through the bars at his feet. It slapped to the ground with a gust of air, blowing away his diagram of crumbs. Glancing down at the upside down title, he could make out something about "space" and "relativity".

"Read." She ordered. "It's good for you."

If this was all a simple result of keenfolk neuroses, then he should show improvement after some light reading. If not, or gods forbid it, he gets worse, then she was going to need to get a hold of a Seer.

The Bloodstone had been something Elowen didn't just wish to find, but nearly obsessed over lately. Why would that be? Having to admit he knew very little about the artifact in question, beyond some minor information skimmed a long time ago, there had to be something to this. Was it really that big of a deal? That powerful? That meaningful? Rizzrack's fixation would make some sense: the damn thing was made of his blood, or assumed to be, and linked to him. But beyond that wouldn't it just be a semi-related piece of evidence? A background fixture?

It needs to look like.... this! Rizzrack thought to himself as he closely inspected the shape of this void. Alright, it looks like that so... He'd look around again. Ah it must be this. That would fit! He compares. It's nowhere close. He inspects the void again. Ah nuts, he didn't look at it right! He looks again. Alright, this should do it. He compares. No, no why does this keep happeni-why is it always changing!? He keeps every part, every piece he's collected. Maybe there's a pattern. Maybe it'll change back. Maybe ONE of these things stupid things will eventually fit! This, he recognized this! He's got just the thing! He won't take his eyes off it, he won't let it change again. He fumbles around, this, this will... fit.... No it's just-it's still not perfect. Maybe if... he twists, he pushes, he forces the piece in. So close, just a little more, but there's a snap. It chipped. No, oh no he's ruined it. He was wrong, wrong! Wrong again!

Rizzrack pulled away from his corner. Dammit. Things didn't need to be this difficult, but perhaps he was being tested. That makes sense. He was not in control. He needed to trust. He needed to stop thinking about the wrong things.

The small-keen glanced over the floor at the tome that laid there untouched. There's nothing more that could offer him that he didn't already know and that would be the best case. That book probably has nothing of value. In fact he should look at it and see just how wrong it is. Rizzrack crawled over and as soon as the book was within reach, he pulled it towards himself, the sound of leather dragging across the floor filling the quiet air.

He paid little attention to the full title of the book. He already knew it was filled with useless knowledge. Ah yes, a whole preface dedicated to defining every stupid little thing we already know. Of course everyone knows the movements of the celestial bodies and how it affects our world. Rizzrack swiped page after page through the book. Nothing new, nothing new, until the diagrams began to seem out of place. He stopped on a page. There were dimensional planes now accompanied by formulas. Strange. Interesting? No. Some keens just happen to like their numbers a little too much. He flipped a few pages back, curious to know more about why they transition from space to math. Perhaps they got side tracked with geometry?

Rizzrack settled on a page and skimmed its sections. They seemed to be approaching their study with methodological reductionism, breaking it down to abstract levels no ordinary keenfolk could manipulate. What was the point then? He resumed flipping through pages heading deeper and deeper into the subject, leaving behind the practical and entering the theoretical. Dumb book. Surely whoever wrote this had something very clearly wrong with them. He knew this because the more he read, the more he felt he understood where they were coming from. Clearly whoever wrote this cared very much for what they observed. A little too much. Too much made you stand out. Too much made you different. Too much made people worry about you for all the wrong reasons. Too much made you wrong. Too much made you alone.

Rizzrack felt that loneliness before, to not be understood, to be isolated into your own world and avoided. But to know he was not alone in feeling that, that someone else felt their own loneliness too, for a moment he felt connection through the fractures...

And for that moment he felt a pain in his chest. Pain. He could feel pain. It was deep within, beyond the numb flesh of his body. It was a pain in the essence of himself and that brief shock jolted the buried conscience within him. This body, numb and unfeeling to pain was not him. It was only a shell for the life force within. But this essence of him, there's no such thing, no such thing as a life force within. That wasn't compatible with his reality. There's nothing. He is a machine. He's not an empty suit of armor. The void is not alive. It can't be.

His heart raced shallowly in his chest. Even without deep pounding beats, Rizzrack knew he was terrified of whatever this invisible force was that just touched him. The urge to connect--the desire to let go of meaning and give in to meaningless... Oblivion was reaching out to assimilate him. It wanted him and he finally understood he was irresistibly drawn to it.

Rizzrack needed his meaning. He needed his Bloodstone.

----

Elowen had kept herself busy in the few hours Rizzrack was left alone to himself. To arrange a psychic probing on such short notice was not possible through conventional means, but she knew an intern who happened to be very eager to do what it takes to prove themselves an valuable addition to their department. Elowen was willing to put in good word of his abilities, that is if he could prove them a valuable asset.

"Your job," She explained to him, "-is not a difficult one. You are to do a brief report on a specimen for any evidence of witness tampering... including foreign signatures of... Your findings should be left in my letter drop before the end of your shift.... and your Point of Contact has already been informed..."

The young man listened intently without question. He may be new to this field of investigative work, but he considered himself a prodigy of sorts. If they could see what he was capable of, they'd pledge him in a heartbeat. He followed the woman down a short hall which led to a locked room watched by a single guard. It was quiet and remote there, a small old wing left behind in favor of larger and more efficient rooms for the growing governing body of the city.

The door was unlocked and the single intern entered. Within, the man saw a small figure secured to a chair. If it weren't for the large ears to be made out in the poor lighting, he would have thought that was a child. He didn't quite expect to see a keen. Then again, word of the underground lab had spread around well enough already that it made sense he was going to find himself dealing with it some day.

"To hell with this- Assign him to the pit and clear his room for another. I don't have the patience to deal with this right now."

Nortrom indeed, did not have much patience lately. Between the Quorum, his own mounting doubts, Rizzrack being--- well, Rizzrack, and evetything else: If a prisoner was going to cause shit, he was going to get zero slack. All because of the warden's mood. One thing he didn't do, however, was take it out on the poor guard chosen to deliver the news and update on whatever issue had cropped up now.

"Yes sir." The guard's armor clinked as he shifted, finally able to release the breath he had been holding. The pit. Prisoners didn't get sent there for things like this, at least not first offenses... Their boss was indeed in a bad mood and it wasn't worth questioning and attracting potential ire.

***

"This will be easy for you, as all I need is for you to sit back and relax. Let your mind flow like water, parting and allowing whatever breaks it's surface to freely swim about."

Pulling at his gloves off one finger at a time and carefully pushing them into a pocket, he realized that his subject likely wasn't given any details prior. The guards never care enough to make his job any easier by educating them ahead of time.

Those concerns were not limited to questions such as how No matter how much he gives up, there's still something telling him it's not enough. He still has too much control. What was he still holding on to that was making this so hard?

Rizzrack finally noticed the man in front of him as he tucked his gloves away. He couldn't imagine what he meant or what he was there for. Not that it mattered, he would just have to experience whatever it is they want to subject him to for no reason other than to waste his time. The small-keen straightened up against the back of the chair, unaware that he was subconsciously preparing for whatever will be next.

"Relax? I don't imagine this is the physiotherapy I was promised in the ward. A little too late now, I mean look at me." He swings his legs waves his hands as much as the shackles allow, which was about three inches of freedom. The small-keen hadn't noticed how much his limbs have slimmed or how the way his muscles moved beneath his thin skin. If they hadn't secured him with rope as well, perhaps he could have slipped his hands and feet out if no one was looking.

"The work I do has very little direct involvement with the body, so, no this isn't physiotherapy. Or any sort of therapy for that matter."

"You may feel a tingle." Hands becoming two sides of a machine, the power source his own mind, he held them flat on either side of Rizzrack's head, but not touching him or his elongated ears. Gerard focused, looking for any external auras or signs of the arcane. Scanning up and down, hands shifting across the surfaces of skin as he checked, it only took a quick minute before he backed off and stood upright once more.

"Hm." The currious hum explained next to nothing, results situated in his thoughts as he quickly grabbed some paper and jotted down the first set of notes.

He couldn't let it distract him. The next distraction could prove disastrous. He had to ignore it. He had to ignore the begging, the pleas, the cries. They needed to just deal with the alarms. Don't they understand that the alarms mean nothing? Why won't they leave him alone? Don't they know they're making him suffer??

Rizzrack squeezed his eyes tight and lightly shook his head to clear away the remnants of that uncomfortable sensation. Just as he was finally getting back in control of submitting himself to a higher power, he becomes unsettled. It's not me, it's them. Rizzrack wanted to ask the man just what it was he was doing, but to ask would mean to care. No, he's not supposed to care. He's not supposed to need unimportant details. He's not supposed to wonder if this was the "torture" that Silencer warned him about. He's not supposed to wonder if it's torture if it doesn't hurt. He's not supposed to wonder if it could ever hurt at all.

Rizzrack ignored the sound of paper being scratched with ink. He also ignored the soft mutterings of observations going on behind him. Rizzrack especially ignored the uncomfortable feeling that lurked about in the dark corners of the room.

"Just what are you doing, exactly?" Rizzrack finally said. He assured himself that he wasn't asking for answers, he just needed to shift his attention to somewhere else and this was an acceptable means to do so. "Trying to open my mind? Attempting to unlock the answers to the universe? If you come to Know The Truth and the Power of The Ancient, then you too can reunite with The Whole that awaits at The End."

"Save me? From what?" Finishing his notes, he removed his coat and hung it on the corner of the desk, it's length bunching under and onto the floor. Mentally he went through a check list of what he needed to do next, when the Small-Keen's words sudenly dawned on him. Apathetic ignoring turned to curriosity.

"Wait- did you say the Ancient?" The secrets hidden behind this mysterious case of a hidden lab just got even more interesting. What really was going on here? Everyone had been so very 'hush-hush' about the entire thing, leaving far too much to speculation and gossip. The only facts that could be considered consistant were the fact a secret tunnel of workshops or labs existed under that block, and the the Silencer was involved some how. But beyond that?

"Oh yes, yes of course! But first I must correct you it's How is all of this involved with the Ancient? Now that is a very good question!" Rizzrack punctuated with his finger. "Thank you for asking!" He passionately began to spill out every little thing he had come to understand, unaware of the possibility Gerard might not be taking any of his words in earnest faith.

He grabbed the tin of water and proceeded to dump the contents onto the floor before giving it a few drying shakes. Then taking the bread, he began to crush and tear it, collecting the crumbs with the cup. This will do. He ignored the jerky for now. He didn't want to touch it. Rizzrack sprinkled the crumbs into small piles and lines across the floor. Without any writing medium, he was left to tumble his thoughts about in his head. Now that he had something to use, he could finally write out his proof! It began small, covering an area no wider than his palm. It began with a point. Then lines. Then borders. He thickened intersections with more crumbs, then borders. Dimensions flowed from one order to the next, and each had a fundamental truth. One truth. One order. One universe. One mind. There! The radiant eye. All-seeing. All-knowing.

And within it was all he's ever known. And beyond? The Foe. That caught in the eternal pull of Oblivion seeking to pull in everything else in with it.

Ah-hem. Rizzrack.

At first he paid no mind to the voice. It was a second, more persistent humph that pulled Rizzrack up from his pattern. Through the bars he saw a woman, that one from earlier that visited with the Silencer. Luckily there was no Silencer. He had also been looking forward to seeing her again, as that would be a sign that things were finally going to be moving.

"Rizzra-" Elowen was cut off by the small-keen's exclamations. "Finally, we're going somewhere! Time might be meaningless but it's still a preci-" "Keen!" She snapped. "It would be wise of you to cooperate if you want to have any chance of something going your way. As of right now, very little is in your favor."

"Geesh, when does it end?"

"Ohmygoodnesstob-Is-Is this why it's so hard for me to get anything done? Because you people think 'oh look at the little keen he wants his red shiny rock MADE FROM HIS OWN BLOOD??' Let's not mind our own business because WE THINK WE KNOW BETTER!"

Elowen's brows dug deep at the disrespect. Her mouth hung wordlessly as she moved from surprise to her bearing desperately keeping her indignant fury collected. Before she could even form her next words, Rizzrack started up again.

"All you need to know is that it's mine. It belongs to me because it IS me. I am going to reunite and no one is going to stop me. And I highly suggest you let me out of here if you know what's good for you. Unless you're bad, then you'd definitely want to keep me in here..."

... Well, it wouldn't hurt to ask.

"Are you threatening me? As a member of the Quorum, council prociding over this area, you would do well to watch your tone and choose your words more carefully. Need I remind you that you are in here, due in part, to your actions against the warden, Silencer? For property destruction? Destroying important evidence?"

With nothing else to do with them, her arms crossed both to hold herself back and ground herself in general.

"Figures he wanted to punish me himself." Rizzrack scoffed. "He couldn't even do that. You know what he did? He had me dragged into some room and used his mind powers on me! But that fool doesn't know his tricks don't work on me!" He said puffing out his chest. "So of course when he realized I'm just too much to handle, he sent me back here. How predictable." Rizzrack muttered unimpressed. "He must think you can do a better job of making me regret my actions. I'd like to see anyone try."

Elowen really had to wonder if something was fundamentally wrong with this small-keen. The more he continued to ramble, and the longer she listened, the more she realized he was insane. He ranted about the most trivial of concepts, making them out to be world shattering epiphanies.

Keenfolk weren't a common sight where she's from, but she was still aware of their peculiarities. They were a lot like their creations. Take automata for example, constructed to merely perform life-like actions. When their creations travel into arcane realms, they begin to behave erratically no longer confined to rules, and soon enough begin to horrifically scream with their newly gained voices.

This one was not so different. Keen magic inevitably deconstructed outside of their realm because it was too sane to the point of being insane in its own right. In short: A crazy keen isn't all that unusual, but his first testimonies were at least based in reality and not whatever eternal dark forest he seems to be going on about right now.

But this all felt unusual, and she couldn't just assume the circumstances. She needed to find out if the Warden manipulated this keen's mind in any way. But easier said than done. Besides his earlier testimonies, she was left with little to work with until that other keen finally wakes up. If he ever wakes up.

Elowen unflinchingly stared down at Rizzrack. Manipulated or not, she could still study him. "Alright, that's enough. That's enough." She barked. "Save your breath for your examination. You'll need it. In the meantime..." She ran her hand across the tome she had been carrying in her arm. Its blank cover became decorated with lettering.

Rizzrack watched her continue to pet her book before dropping it through the bars at his feet. It slapped to the ground with a gust of air, blowing away his diagram of crumbs. Glancing down at the upside down title, he could make out something about "space" and "relativity".

"Read." She ordered. "It's good for you."

If this was all a simple result of keenfolk neuroses, then he should show improvement after some light reading. If not, or gods forbid it, he gets worse, then she was going to need to get a hold of a Seer.

The Bloodstone had been something Elowen didn't just wish to find, but nearly obsessed over lately. Why would that be? Having to admit he knew very little about the artifact in question, beyond some minor information skimmed a long time ago, there had to be something to this. Was it really that big of a deal? That powerful? That meaningful? Rizzrack's fixation would make some sense: the damn thing was made of his blood, or assumed to be, and linked to him. But beyond that wouldn't it just be a semi-related piece of evidence? A background fixture?

It needs to look like.... this! Rizzrack thought to himself as he closely inspected the shape of this void. Alright, it looks like that so... He'd look around again. Ah it must be this. That would fit! He compares. It's nowhere close. He inspects the void again. Ah nuts, he didn't look at it right! He looks again. Alright, this should do it. He compares. No, no why does this keep happeni-why is it always changing!? He keeps every part, every piece he's collected. Maybe there's a pattern. Maybe it'll change back. Maybe ONE of these things stupid things will eventually fit! This, he recognized this! He's got just the thing! He won't take his eyes off it, he won't let it change again. He fumbles around, this, this will... fit.... No it's just-it's still not perfect. Maybe if... he twists, he pushes, he forces the piece in. So close, just a little more, but there's a snap. It chipped. No, oh no he's ruined it. He was wrong, wrong! Wrong again!

Rizzrack pulled away from his corner. Dammit. Things didn't need to be this difficult, but perhaps he was being tested. That makes sense. He was not in control. He needed to trust. He needed to stop thinking about the wrong things.

The small-keen glanced over the floor at the tome that laid there untouched. There's nothing more that could offer him that he didn't already know and that would be the best case. That book probably has nothing of value. In fact he should look at it and see just how wrong it is. Rizzrack crawled over and as soon as the book was within reach, he pulled it towards himself, the sound of leather dragging across the floor filling the quiet air.

He paid little attention to the full title of the book. He already knew it was filled with useless knowledge. Ah yes, a whole preface dedicated to defining every stupid little thing we already know. Of course everyone knows the movements of the celestial bodies and how it affects our world. Rizzrack swiped page after page through the book. Nothing new, nothing new, until the diagrams began to seem out of place. He stopped on a page. There were dimensional planes now accompanied by formulas. Strange. Interesting? No. Some keens just happen to like their numbers a little too much. He flipped a few pages back, curious to know more about why they transition from space to math. Perhaps they got side tracked with geometry?

Rizzrack settled on a page and skimmed its sections. They seemed to be approaching their study with methodological reductionism, breaking it down to abstract levels no ordinary keenfolk could manipulate. What was the point then? He resumed flipping through pages heading deeper and deeper into the subject, leaving behind the practical and entering the theoretical. Dumb book. Surely whoever wrote this had something very clearly wrong with them. He knew this because the more he read, the more he felt he understood where they were coming from. Clearly whoever wrote this cared very much for what they observed. A little too much. Too much made you stand out. Too much made you different. Too much made people worry about you for all the wrong reasons. Too much made you wrong. Too much made you alone.

Rizzrack felt that loneliness before, to not be understood, to be isolated into your own world and avoided. But to know he was not alone in feeling that, that someone else felt their own loneliness too, for a moment he felt connection through the fractures...

And for that moment he felt a pain in his chest. Pain. He could feel pain. It was deep within, beyond the numb flesh of his body. It was a pain in the essence of himself and that brief shock jolted the buried conscience within him. This body, numb and unfeeling to pain was not him. It was only a shell for the life force within. But this essence of him, there's no such thing, no such thing as a life force within. That wasn't compatible with his reality. There's nothing. He is a machine. He's not an empty suit of armor. The void is not alive. It can't be.

His heart raced shallowly in his chest. Even without deep pounding beats, Rizzrack knew he was terrified of whatever this invisible force was that just touched him. The urge to connect--the desire to let go of meaning and give in to meaningless... Oblivion was reaching out to assimilate him. It wanted him and he finally understood he was irresistibly drawn to it.

Rizzrack needed his meaning. He needed his Bloodstone.

----

Elowen had kept herself busy in the few hours Rizzrack was left alone to himself. To arrange a psychic probing on such short notice was not possible through conventional means, but she knew an intern who happened to be very eager to do what it takes to prove themselves an valuable addition to their department. Elowen was willing to put in good word of his abilities, that is if he could prove them a valuable asset.

"Your job," She explained to him, "-is not a difficult one. You are to do a brief report on a specimen for any evidence of witness tampering... including foreign signatures of... Your findings should be left in my letter drop before the end of your shift.... and your Point of Contact has already been informed..."

The young man listened intently without question. He may be new to this field of investigative work, but he considered himself a prodigy of sorts. If they could see what he was capable of, they'd pledge him in a heartbeat. He followed the woman down a short hall which led to a locked room watched by a single guard. It was quiet and remote there, a small old wing left behind in favor of larger and more efficient rooms for the growing governing body of the city.

The door was unlocked and the single intern entered. Within, the man saw a small figure secured to a chair. If it weren't for the large ears to be made out in the poor lighting, he would have thought that was a child. He didn't quite expect to see a keen. Then again, word of the underground lab had spread around well enough already that it made sense he was going to find himself dealing with it some day.

"To hell with this- Assign him to the pit and clear his room for another. I don't have the patience to deal with this right now."

Nortrom indeed, did not have much patience lately. Between the Quorum, his own mounting doubts, Rizzrack being--- well, Rizzrack, and evetything else: If a prisoner was going to cause shit, he was going to get zero slack. All because of the warden's mood. One thing he didn't do, however, was take it out on the poor guard chosen to deliver the news and update on whatever issue had cropped up now.

"Yes sir." The guard's armor clinked as he shifted, finally able to release the breath he had been holding. The pit. Prisoners didn't get sent there for things like this, at least not first offenses... Their boss was indeed in a bad mood and it wasn't worth questioning and attracting potential ire.

***

"This will be easy for you, as all I need is for you to sit back and relax. Let your mind flow like water, parting and allowing whatever breaks it's surface to freely swim about."

Pulling at his gloves off one finger at a time and carefully pushing them into a pocket, he realized that his subject likely wasn't given any details prior. The guards never care enough to make his job any easier by educating them ahead of time.

Those concerns were not limited to questions such as how No matter how much he gives up, there's still something telling him it's not enough. He still has too much control. What was he still holding on to that was making this so hard?

Rizzrack finally noticed the man in front of him as he tucked his gloves away. He couldn't imagine what he meant or what he was there for. Not that it mattered, he would just have to experience whatever it is they want to subject him to for no reason other than to waste his time. The small-keen straightened up against the back of the chair, unaware that he was subconsciously preparing for whatever will be next.

"Relax? I don't imagine this is the physiotherapy I was promised in the ward. A little too late now, I mean look at me." He swings his legs waves his hands as much as the shackles allow, which was about three inches of freedom. The small-keen hadn't noticed how much his limbs have slimmed or how the way his muscles moved beneath his thin skin. If they hadn't secured him with rope as well, perhaps he could have slipped his hands and feet out if no one was looking.

"The work I do has very little direct involvement with the body, so, no this isn't physiotherapy. Or any sort of therapy for that matter."

"You may feel a tingle." Hands becoming two sides of a machine, the power source his own mind, he held them flat on either side of Rizzrack's head, but not touching him or his elongated ears. Gerard focused, looking for any external auras or signs of the arcane. Scanning up and down, hands shifting across the surfaces of skin as he checked, it only took a quick minute before he backed off and stood upright once more.

"Hm." The currious hum explained next to nothing, results situated in his thoughts as he quickly grabbed some paper and jotted down the first set of notes.

He couldn't let it distract him. The next distraction could prove disastrous. He had to ignore it. He had to ignore the begging, the pleas, the cries. They needed to just deal with the alarms. Don't they understand that the alarms mean nothing? Why won't they leave him alone? Don't they know they're making him suffer??

Rizzrack squeezed his eyes tight and lightly shook his head to clear away the remnants of that uncomfortable sensation. Just as he was finally getting back in control of submitting himself to a higher power, he becomes unsettled. It's not me, it's them. Rizzrack wanted to ask the man just what it was he was doing, but to ask would mean to care. No, he's not supposed to care. He's not supposed to need unimportant details. He's not supposed to wonder if this was the "torture" that Silencer warned him about. He's not supposed to wonder if it's torture if it doesn't hurt. He's not supposed to wonder if it could ever hurt at all.

Rizzrack ignored the sound of paper being scratched with ink. He also ignored the soft mutterings of observations going on behind him. Rizzrack especially ignored the uncomfortable feeling that lurked about in the dark corners of the room.

"Just what are you doing, exactly?" Rizzrack finally said. He assured himself that he wasn't asking for answers, he just needed to shift his attention to somewhere else and this was an acceptable means to do so. "Trying to open my mind? Attempting to unlock the answers to the universe? If you come to Know The Truth and the Power of The Ancient, then you too can reunite with The Whole that awaits at The End."

He grabbed the tin of water and proceeded to dump the contents onto the floor before giving it a few drying shakes. Then taking the bread, he began to crush and tear it, collecting the crumbs with the cup. This will do. He ignored the jerky for now. He didn't want to touch it. Rizzrack sprinkled the crumbs into small piles and lines across the floor. Without any writing medium, he was left to tumble his thoughts about in his head. Now that he had something to use, he could finally write out his proof! It began small, covering an area no wider than his palm. It began with a point. Then lines. Then borders. He thickened intersections with more crumbs, then borders. Dimensions flowed from one order to the next, and each had a fundamental truth. One truth. One order. One universe. One mind. There! The radiant eye. All-seeing. All-knowing.

And within it was all he's ever known. And beyond? The Foe. That caught in the eternal pull of Oblivion seeking to pull in everything else in with it.

Ah-hem. Rizzrack.

At first he paid no mind to the voice. It was a second, more persistent humph that pulled Rizzrack up from his pattern. Through the bars he saw a woman, that one from earlier that visited with the Silencer. Luckily there was no Silencer. He had also been looking forward to seeing her again, as that would be a sign that things were finally going to be moving.

"Rizzra-" Elowen was cut off by the small-keen's exclamations. "Finally, we're going somewhere! Time might be meaningless but it's still a preci-" "Keen!" She snapped. "It would be wise of you to cooperate if you want to have any chance of something going your way. As of right now, very little is in your favor."

"Geesh, when does it end?"

"Ohmygoodnesstob-Is-Is this why it's so hard for me to get anything done? Because you people think 'oh look at the little keen he wants his red shiny rock MADE FROM HIS OWN BLOOD??' Let's not mind our own business because WE THINK WE KNOW BETTER!"

Elowen's brows dug deep at the disrespect. Her mouth hung wordlessly as she moved from surprise to her bearing desperately keeping her indignant fury collected. Before she could even form her next words, Rizzrack started up again.

"All you need to know is that it's mine. It belongs to me because it IS me. I am going to reunite and no one is going to stop me. And I highly suggest you let me out of here if you know what's good for you. Unless you're bad, then you'd definitely want to keep me in here..."

... Well, it wouldn't hurt to ask.

"Are you threatening me? As a member of the Quorum, council prociding over this area, you would do well to watch your tone and choose your words more carefully. Need I remind you that you are in here, due in part, to your actions against the warden, Silencer? For property destruction? Destroying important evidence?"

With nothing else to do with them, her arms crossed both to hold herself back and ground herself in general.

"Figures he wanted to punish me himself." Rizzrack scoffed. "He couldn't even do that. You know what he did? He had me dragged into some room and used his mind powers on me! But that fool doesn't know his tricks don't work on me!" He said puffing out his chest. "So of course when he realized I'm just too much to handle, he sent me back here. How predictable." Rizzrack muttered unimpressed. "He must think you can do a better job of making me regret my actions. I'd like to see anyone try."

Elowen really had to wonder if something was fundamentally wrong with this small-keen. The more he continued to ramble, and the longer she listened, the more she realized he was insane. He ranted about the most trivial of concepts, making them out to be world shattering epiphanies.

Keenfolk weren't a common sight where she's from, but she was still aware of their peculiarities. They were a lot like their creations. Take automata for example, constructed to merely perform life-like actions. When their creations travel into arcane realms, they begin to behave erratically no longer confined to rules, and soon enough begin to horrifically scream with their newly gained voices.

This one was not so different. Keen magic inevitably deconstructed outside of their realm because it was too sane to the point of being insane in its own right. In short: A crazy keen isn't all that unusual, but his first testimonies were at least based in reality and not whatever eternal dark forest he seems to be going on about right now.

But this all felt unusual, and she couldn't just assume the circumstances. She needed to find out if the Warden manipulated this keen's mind in any way. But easier said than done. Besides his earlier testimonies, she was left with little to work with until that other keen finally wakes up. If he ever wakes up.

Elowen unflinchingly stared down at Rizzrack. Manipulated or not, she could still study him. "Alright, that's enough. That's enough." She barked. "Save your breath for your examination. You'll need it. In the meantime..." She ran her hand across the tome she had been carrying in her arm. Its blank cover became decorated with lettering.

Rizzrack watched her continue to pet her book before dropping it through the bars at his feet. It slapped to the ground with a gust of air, blowing away his diagram of crumbs. Glancing down at the upside down title, he could make out something about "space" and "relativity".

"Read." She ordered. "It's good for you."

If this was all a simple result of keenfolk neuroses, then he should show improvement after some light reading. If not, or gods forbid it, he gets worse, then she was going to need to get a hold of a Seer.

The Bloodstone had been something Elowen didn't just wish to find, but nearly obsessed over lately. Why would that be? Having to admit he knew very little about the artifact in question, beyond some minor information skimmed a long time ago, there had to be something to this. Was it really that big of a deal? That powerful? That meaningful? Rizzrack's fixation would make some sense: the damn thing was made of his blood, or assumed to be, and linked to him. But beyond that wouldn't it just be a semi-related piece of evidence? A background fixture?

It needs to look like.... this! Rizzrack thought to himself as he closely inspected the shape of this void. Alright, it looks like that so... He'd look around again. Ah it must be this. That would fit! He compares. It's nowhere close. He inspects the void again. Ah nuts, he didn't look at it right! He looks again. Alright, this should do it. He compares. No, no why does this keep happeni-why is it always changing!? He keeps every part, every piece he's collected. Maybe there's a pattern. Maybe it'll change back. Maybe ONE of these things stupid things will eventually fit! This, he recognized this! He's got just the thing! He won't take his eyes off it, he won't let it change again. He fumbles around, this, this will... fit.... No it's just-it's still not perfect. Maybe if... he twists, he pushes, he forces the piece in. So close, just a little more, but there's a snap. It chipped. No, oh no he's ruined it. He was wrong, wrong! Wrong again!

Rizzrack pulled away from his corner. Dammit. Things didn't need to be this difficult, but perhaps he was being tested. That makes sense. He was not in control. He needed to trust. He needed to stop thinking about the wrong things.

The small-keen glanced over the floor at the tome that laid there untouched. There's nothing more that could offer him that he didn't already know and that would be the best case. That book probably has nothing of value. In fact he should look at it and see just how wrong it is. Rizzrack crawled over and as soon as the book was within reach, he pulled it towards himself, the sound of leather dragging across the floor filling the quiet air.

He paid little attention to the full title of the book. He already knew it was filled with useless knowledge. Ah yes, a whole preface dedicated to defining every stupid little thing we already know. Of course everyone knows the movements of the celestial bodies and how it affects our world. Rizzrack swiped page after page through the book. Nothing new, nothing new, until the diagrams began to seem out of place. He stopped on a page. There were dimensional planes now accompanied by formulas. Strange. Interesting? No. Some keens just happen to like their numbers a little too much. He flipped a few pages back, curious to know more about why they transition from space to math. Perhaps they got side tracked with geometry?

Rizzrack settled on a page and skimmed its sections. They seemed to be approaching their study with methodological reductionism, breaking it down to abstract levels no ordinary keenfolk could manipulate. What was the point then? He resumed flipping through pages heading deeper and deeper into the subject, leaving behind the practical and entering the theoretical. Dumb book. Surely whoever wrote this had something very clearly wrong with them. He knew this because the more he read, the more he felt he understood where they were coming from. Clearly whoever wrote this cared very much for what they observed. A little too much. Too much made you stand out. Too much made you different. Too much made people worry about you for all the wrong reasons. Too much made you wrong. Too much made you alone.

Rizzrack felt that loneliness before, to not be understood, to be isolated into your own world and avoided. But to know he was not alone in feeling that, that someone else felt their own loneliness too, for a moment he felt connection through the fractures...

And for that moment he felt a pain in his chest. Pain. He could feel pain. It was deep within, beyond the numb flesh of his body. It was a pain in the essence of himself and that brief shock jolted the buried conscience within him. This body, numb and unfeeling to pain was not him. It was only a shell for the life force within. But this essence of him, there's no such thing, no such thing as a life force within. That wasn't compatible with his reality. There's nothing. He is a machine. He's not an empty suit of armor. The void is not alive. It can't be.

His heart raced shallowly in his chest. Even without deep pounding beats, Rizzrack knew he was terrified of whatever this invisible force was that just touched him. The urge to connect--the desire to let go of meaning and give in to meaningless... Oblivion was reaching out to assimilate him. It wanted him and he finally understood he was irresistibly drawn to it.

Rizzrack needed his meaning. He needed his Bloodstone.

----

Elowen had kept herself busy in the few hours Rizzrack was left alone to himself. To arrange a psychic probing on such short notice was not possible through conventional means, but she knew an intern who happened to be very eager to do what it takes to prove themselves an valuable addition to their department. Elowen was willing to put in good word of his abilities, that is if he could prove them a valuable asset.

"Your job," She explained to him, "-is not a difficult one. You are to do a brief report on a specimen for any evidence of witness tampering... including foreign signatures of... Your findings should be left in my letter drop before the end of your shift.... and your Point of Contact has already been informed..."

The young man listened intently without question. He may be new to this field of investigative work, but he considered himself a prodigy of sorts. If they could see what he was capable of, they'd pledge him in a heartbeat. He followed the woman down a short hall which led to a locked room watched by a single guard. It was quiet and remote there, a small old wing left behind in favor of larger and more efficient rooms for the growing governing body of the city.

The door was unlocked and the single intern entered. Within, the man saw a small figure secured to a chair. If it weren't for the large ears to be made out in the poor lighting, he would have thought that was a child. He didn't quite expect to see a keen. Then again, word of the underground lab had spread around well enough already that it made sense he was going to find himself dealing with it some day.

"To hell with this- Assign him to the pit and clear his room for another. I don't have the patience to deal with this right now."

Nortrom indeed, did not have much patience lately. Between the Quorum, his own mounting doubts, Rizzrack being--- well, Rizzrack, and evetything else: If a prisoner was going to cause shit, he was going to get zero slack. All because of the warden's mood. One thing he didn't do, however, was take it out on the poor guard chosen to deliver the news and update on whatever issue had cropped up now.

"Yes sir." The guard's armor clinked as he shifted, finally able to release the breath he had been holding. The pit. Prisoners didn't get sent there for things like this, at least not first offenses... Their boss was indeed in a bad mood and it wasn't worth questioning and attracting potential ire.

***

"This will be easy for you, as all I need is for you to sit back and relax. Let your mind flow like water, parting and allowing whatever breaks it's surface to freely swim about."

Pulling at his gloves off one finger at a time and carefully pushing them into a pocket, he realized that his subject likely wasn't given any details prior. The guards never care enough to make his job any easier by educating them ahead of time.

Those concerns were not limited to questions such as how No matter how much he gives up, there's still something telling him it's not enough. He still has too much control. What was he still holding on to that was making this so hard?

Rizzrack finally noticed the man in front of him as he tucked his gloves away. He couldn't imagine what he meant or what he was there for. Not that it mattered, he would just have to experience whatever it is they want to subject him to for no reason other than to waste his time. The small-keen straightened up against the back of the chair, unaware that he was subconsciously preparing for whatever will be next.

"Relax? I don't imagine this is the physiotherapy I was promised in the ward. A little too late now, I mean look at me." He swings his legs waves his hands as much as the shackles allow, which was about three inches of freedom. The small-keen hadn't noticed how much his limbs have slimmed or how the way his muscles moved beneath his thin skin. If they hadn't secured him with rope as well, perhaps he could have slipped his hands and feet out if no one was looking.

"The work I do has very little direct involvement with the body, so, no this isn't physiotherapy. Or any sort of therapy for that matter."

He grabbed the tin of water and proceeded to dump the contents onto the floor before giving it a few drying shakes. Then taking the bread, he began to crush and tear it, collecting the crumbs with the cup. This will do. He ignored the jerky for now. He didn't want to touch it. Rizzrack sprinkled the crumbs into small piles and lines across the floor. Without any writing medium, he was left to tumble his thoughts about in his head. Now that he had something to use, he could finally write out his proof! It began small, covering an area no wider than his palm. It began with a point. Then lines. Then borders. He thickened intersections with more crumbs, then borders. Dimensions flowed from one order to the next, and each had a fundamental truth. One truth. One order. One universe. One mind. There! The radiant eye. All-seeing. All-knowing.

And within it was all he's ever known. And beyond? The Foe. That caught in the eternal pull of Oblivion seeking to pull in everything else in with it.

Ah-hem. Rizzrack.

At first he paid no mind to the voice. It was a second, more persistent humph that pulled Rizzrack up from his pattern. Through the bars he saw a woman, that one from earlier that visited with the Silencer. Luckily there was no Silencer. He had also been looking forward to seeing her again, as that would be a sign that things were finally going to be moving.

"Rizzra-" Elowen was cut off by the small-keen's exclamations. "Finally, we're going somewhere! Time might be meaningless but it's still a preci-" "Keen!" She snapped. "It would be wise of you to cooperate if you want to have any chance of something going your way. As of right now, very little is in your favor."

"Geesh, when does it end?"

"Ohmygoodnesstob-Is-Is this why it's so hard for me to get anything done? Because you people think 'oh look at the little keen he wants his red shiny rock MADE FROM HIS OWN BLOOD??' Let's not mind our own business because WE THINK WE KNOW BETTER!"

Elowen's brows dug deep at the disrespect. Her mouth hung wordlessly as she moved from surprise to her bearing desperately keeping her indignant fury collected. Before she could even form her next words, Rizzrack started up again.

"All you need to know is that it's mine. It belongs to me because it IS me. I am going to reunite and no one is going to stop me. And I highly suggest you let me out of here if you know what's good for you. Unless you're bad, then you'd definitely want to keep me in here..."

... Well, it wouldn't hurt to ask.

"Are you threatening me? As a member of the Quorum, council prociding over this area, you would do well to watch your tone and choose your words more carefully. Need I remind you that you are in here, due in part, to your actions against the warden, Silencer? For property destruction? Destroying important evidence?"

With nothing else to do with them, her arms crossed both to hold herself back and ground herself in general.

"Figures he wanted to punish me himself." Rizzrack scoffed. "He couldn't even do that. You know what he did? He had me dragged into some room and used his mind powers on me! But that fool doesn't know his tricks don't work on me!" He said puffing out his chest. "So of course when he realized I'm just too much to handle, he sent me back here. How predictable." Rizzrack muttered unimpressed. "He must think you can do a better job of making me regret my actions. I'd like to see anyone try."

Elowen really had to wonder if something was fundamentally wrong with this small-keen. The more he continued to ramble, and the longer she listened, the more she realized he was insane. He ranted about the most trivial of concepts, making them out to be world shattering epiphanies.

Keenfolk weren't a common sight where she's from, but she was still aware of their peculiarities. They were a lot like their creations. Take automata for example, constructed to merely perform life-like actions. When their creations travel into arcane realms, they begin to behave erratically no longer confined to rules, and soon enough begin to horrifically scream with their newly gained voices.

This one was not so different. Keen magic inevitably deconstructed outside of their realm because it was too sane to the point of being insane in its own right. In short: A crazy keen isn't all that unusual, but his first testimonies were at least based in reality and not whatever eternal dark forest he seems to be going on about right now.

But this all felt unusual, and she couldn't just assume the circumstances. She needed to find out if the Warden manipulated this keen's mind in any way. But easier said than done. Besides his earlier testimonies, she was left with little to work with until that other keen finally wakes up. If he ever wakes up.

Elowen unflinchingly stared down at Rizzrack. Manipulated or not, she could still study him. "Alright, that's enough. That's enough." She barked. "Save your breath for your examination. You'll need it. In the meantime..." She ran her hand across the tome she had been carrying in her arm. Its blank cover became decorated with lettering.

Rizzrack watched her continue to pet her book before dropping it through the bars at his feet. It slapped to the ground with a gust of air, blowing away his diagram of crumbs. Glancing down at the upside down title, he could make out something about "space" and "relativity".

"Read." She ordered. "It's good for you."

If this was all a simple result of keenfolk neuroses, then he should show improvement after some light reading. If not, or gods forbid it, he gets worse, then she was going to need to get a hold of a Seer.

The Bloodstone had been something Elowen didn't just wish to find, but nearly obsessed over lately. Why would that be? Having to admit he knew very little about the artifact in question, beyond some minor information skimmed a long time ago, there had to be something to this. Was it really that big of a deal? That powerful? That meaningful? Rizzrack's fixation would make some sense: the damn thing was made of his blood, or assumed to be, and linked to him. But beyond that wouldn't it just be a semi-related piece of evidence? A background fixture?

It needs to look like.... this! Rizzrack thought to himself as he closely inspected the shape of this void. Alright, it looks like that so... He'd look around again. Ah it must be this. That would fit! He compares. It's nowhere close. He inspects the void again. Ah nuts, he didn't look at it right! He looks again. Alright, this should do it. He compares. No, no why does this keep happeni-why is it always changing!? He keeps every part, every piece he's collected. Maybe there's a pattern. Maybe it'll change back. Maybe ONE of these things stupid things will eventually fit! This, he recognized this! He's got just the thing! He won't take his eyes off it, he won't let it change again. He fumbles around, this, this will... fit.... No it's just-it's still not perfect. Maybe if... he twists, he pushes, he forces the piece in. So close, just a little more, but there's a snap. It chipped. No, oh no he's ruined it. He was wrong, wrong! Wrong again!

Rizzrack pulled away from his corner. Dammit. Things didn't need to be this difficult, but perhaps he was being tested. That makes sense. He was not in control. He needed to trust. He needed to stop thinking about the wrong things.

The small-keen glanced over the floor at the tome that laid there untouched. There's nothing more that could offer him that he didn't already know and that would be the best case. That book probably has nothing of value. In fact he should look at it and see just how wrong it is. Rizzrack crawled over and as soon as the book was within reach, he pulled it towards himself, the sound of leather dragging across the floor filling the quiet air.

He paid little attention to the full title of the book. He already knew it was filled with useless knowledge. Ah yes, a whole preface dedicated to defining every stupid little thing we already know. Of course everyone knows the movements of the celestial bodies and how it affects our world. Rizzrack swiped page after page through the book. Nothing new, nothing new, until the diagrams began to seem out of place. He stopped on a page. There were dimensional planes now accompanied by formulas. Strange. Interesting? No. Some keens just happen to like their numbers a little too much. He flipped a few pages back, curious to know more about why they transition from space to math. Perhaps they got side tracked with geometry?

Rizzrack settled on a page and skimmed its sections. They seemed to be approaching their study with methodological reductionism, breaking it down to abstract levels no ordinary keenfolk could manipulate. What was the point then? He resumed flipping through pages heading deeper and deeper into the subject, leaving behind the practical and entering the theoretical. Dumb book. Surely whoever wrote this had something very clearly wrong with them. He knew this because the more he read, the more he felt he understood where they were coming from. Clearly whoever wrote this cared very much for what they observed. A little too much. Too much made you stand out. Too much made you different. Too much made people worry about you for all the wrong reasons. Too much made you wrong. Too much made you alone.

Rizzrack felt that loneliness before, to not be understood, to be isolated into your own world and avoided. But to know he was not alone in feeling that, that someone else felt their own loneliness too, for a moment he felt connection through the fractures...

And for that moment he felt a pain in his chest. Pain. He could feel pain. It was deep within, beyond the numb flesh of his body. It was a pain in the essence of himself and that brief shock jolted the buried conscience within him. This body, numb and unfeeling to pain was not him. It was only a shell for the life force within. But this essence of him, there's no such thing, no such thing as a life force within. That wasn't compatible with his reality. There's nothing. He is a machine. He's not an empty suit of armor. The void is not alive. It can't be.

His heart raced shallowly in his chest. Even without deep pounding beats, Rizzrack knew he was terrified of whatever this invisible force was that just touched him. The urge to connect--the desire to let go of meaning and give in to meaningless... Oblivion was reaching out to assimilate him. It wanted him and he finally understood he was irresistibly drawn to it.

Rizzrack needed his meaning. He needed his Bloodstone.

----

Elowen had kept herself busy in the few hours Rizzrack was left alone to himself. To arrange a psychic probing on such short notice was not possible through conventional means, but she knew an intern who happened to be very eager to do what it takes to prove themselves an valuable addition to their department. Elowen was willing to put in good word of his abilities, that is if he could prove them a valuable asset.

"Your job," She explained to him, "-is not a difficult one. You are to do a brief report on a specimen for any evidence of witness tampering... including foreign signatures of... Your findings should be left in my letter drop before the end of your shift.... and your Point of Contact has already been informed..."

The young man listened intently without question. He may be new to this field of investigative work, but he considered himself a prodigy of sorts. If they could see what he was capable of, they'd pledge him in a heartbeat. He followed the woman down a short hall which led to a locked room watched by a single guard. It was quiet and remote there, a small old wing left behind in favor of larger and more efficient rooms for the growing governing body of the city.

The door was unlocked and the single intern entered. Within, the man saw a small figure secured to a chair. If it weren't for the large ears to be made out in the poor lighting, he would have thought that was a child. He didn't quite expect to see a keen. Then again, word of the underground lab had spread around well enough already that it made sense he was going to find himself dealing with it some day.

He grabbed the tin of water and proceeded to dump the contents onto the floor before giving it a few drying shakes. Then taking the bread, he began to crush and tear it, collecting the crumbs with the cup. This will do. He ignored the jerky for now. He didn't want to touch it. Rizzrack sprinkled the crumbs into small piles and lines across the floor. Without any writing medium, he was left to tumble his thoughts about in his head. Now that he had something to use, he could finally write out his proof! It began small, covering an area no wider than his palm. It began with a point. Then lines. Then borders. He thickened intersections with more crumbs, then borders. Dimensions flowed from one order to the next, and each had a fundamental truth. One truth. One order. One universe. One mind. There! The radiant eye. All-seeing. All-knowing.

And within it was all he's ever known. And beyond? The Foe. That caught in the eternal pull of Oblivion seeking to pull in everything else in with it.

Ah-hem. Rizzrack.

At first he paid no mind to the voice. It was a second, more persistent humph that pulled Rizzrack up from his pattern. Through the bars he saw a woman, that one from earlier that visited with the Silencer. Luckily there was no Silencer. He had also been looking forward to seeing her again, as that would be a sign that things were finally going to be moving.

"Rizzra-" Elowen was cut off by the small-keen's exclamations. "Finally, we're going somewhere! Time might be meaningless but it's still a preci-" "Keen!" She snapped. "It would be wise of you to cooperate if you want to have any chance of something going your way. As of right now, very little is in your favor."

"Geesh, when does it end?"

"Ohmygoodnesstob-Is-Is this why it's so hard for me to get anything done? Because you people think 'oh look at the little keen he wants his red shiny rock MADE FROM HIS OWN BLOOD??' Let's not mind our own business because WE THINK WE KNOW BETTER!"

Elowen's brows dug deep at the disrespect. Her mouth hung wordlessly as she moved from surprise to her bearing desperately keeping her indignant fury collected. Before she could even form her next words, Rizzrack started up again.

"All you need to know is that it's mine. It belongs to me because it IS me. I am going to reunite and no one is going to stop me. And I highly suggest you let me out of here if you know what's good for you. Unless you're bad, then you'd definitely want to keep me in here..."

... Well, it wouldn't hurt to ask.

"Are you threatening me? As a member of the Quorum, council prociding over this area, you would do well to watch your tone and choose your words more carefully. Need I remind you that you are in here, due in part, to your actions against the warden, Silencer? For property destruction? Destroying important evidence?"

With nothing else to do with them, her arms crossed both to hold herself back and ground herself in general.

"Figures he wanted to punish me himself." Rizzrack scoffed. "He couldn't even do that. You know what he did? He had me dragged into some room and used his mind powers on me! But that fool doesn't know his tricks don't work on me!" He said puffing out his chest. "So of course when he realized I'm just too much to handle, he sent me back here. How predictable." Rizzrack muttered unimpressed. "He must think you can do a better job of making me regret my actions. I'd like to see anyone try."

Elowen really had to wonder if something was fundamentally wrong with this small-keen. The more he continued to ramble, and the longer she listened, the more she realized he was insane. He ranted about the most trivial of concepts, making them out to be world shattering epiphanies.

Keenfolk weren't a common sight where she's from, but she was still aware of their peculiarities. They were a lot like their creations. Take automata for example, constructed to merely perform life-like actions. When their creations travel into arcane realms, they begin to behave erratically no longer confined to rules, and soon enough begin to horrifically scream with their newly gained voices.

This one was not so different. Keen magic inevitably deconstructed outside of their realm because it was too sane to the point of being insane in its own right. In short: A crazy keen isn't all that unusual, but his first testimonies were at least based in reality and not whatever eternal dark forest he seems to be going on about right now.

But this all felt unusual, and she couldn't just assume the circumstances. She needed to find out if the Warden manipulated this keen's mind in any way. But easier said than done. Besides his earlier testimonies, she was left with little to work with until that other keen finally wakes up. If he ever wakes up.

Elowen unflinchingly stared down at Rizzrack. Manipulated or not, she could still study him. "Alright, that's enough. That's enough." She barked. "Save your breath for your examination. You'll need it. In the meantime..." She ran her hand across the tome she had been carrying in her arm. Its blank cover became decorated with lettering.

Rizzrack watched her continue to pet her book before dropping it through the bars at his feet. It slapped to the ground with a gust of air, blowing away his diagram of crumbs. Glancing down at the upside down title, he could make out something about "space" and "relativity".

"Read." She ordered. "It's good for you."

If this was all a simple result of keenfolk neuroses, then he should show improvement after some light reading. If not, or gods forbid it, he gets worse, then she was going to need to get a hold of a Seer.

This was going nowhere. Rizzrack had well and truely derailed, and Nortrom wasn't about to bother salvaging the wreckage, not after everything else that had been done.

The small-keen was quick to move on and paid no more mind to Nortrom. It was as if the man had already stepped out long ago. Once Illusions were seen for what they were, they no longer mattered and he no longer cared.

He felt something Hurt inside.

In the sea of Hate he failed to notice the Insignificant. It was everything he cared about for Nortrom. It was the insecurity, the trust, the fear, the respect, the love, even the hate. It all once mattered before. Now? No better than a fantasy. Meaningless memories. It was worse than a broken heart. For the first time he felt empty. There was a sudden hole where something within him left.

Was it The Foe in him? Had it been reaching into him through Nortrom this whole time? Was this the danger of Lies? Why did it feel so wrong to be empty? Was this a Lie that made him a Hero?

Nortrom left wordlessly, the door was closed, and a few words said in parting with the guard, "Make sure he doesn't kill himself either deliberately or due to his idiocy."

***

As expected, a transfer was requested. What wasn't expected, was the speed in which the Quorum pushed all of the required paperwork through. Yes, the lab incident and Rizzrack were important cases, but it still shocked the man just how expedited the job was. It felt... odd. These sorts of things never clear so quickly.

Nortrom acted in compliance as he agreed to previously. In the end, it was just a matter of dragging him out of the Estate and escorting the Small-Keen back to the general prison. The guards could handle that, no point in testing his patience further with whatever rambling Rizzrack would likely provide in the process.

"There is still one last matter..." Elowen, despite the ongoing vote, was still Nortrom's main contact and liason to the Quorum and attending buisiness. She had deliberately kept quiet about this likely changing, keeping the Silencer none the wiser on past debates.

"Of course there is- there always is. Now that would be?" They were in the foyer of the Tyler Estate, censors finalizing the transfer.

"The Bloodstone. You still have yet to relinquish it."

He made no effort to hide the rolling of his eyes and huff of annoyance. She didn't know it had reformed anew, his reports and previous answers only said it had been shattered. "Those sent to investigate the grove should have been the ones to gather the shards left there. I already explained it was destroyed; go dig around for the pieces."

Half true. Half a lie. He only took the largest of the remains, leaving most of the fragments where they landed. With just how fractured the stone had been, the red, shimmering, glass like pieces, looked larger in volume, coating the dirt, than was actually the case.

"That's the issue, Silencer. Only a few were found, not enough to account for even a quarter of the stone." Elowen restrained her anger, already having her past outburst on public record, "Even those melted away into nothing soon after being collected."

They did? Perfect. A small victory as far as Nortrom was concerned, as it made the rest of the stone not being there all the more credible. Not that he was about to show such mirth openly.

"Say that again to yourself, but slowly. It's likely the smaller fragments had done the same long before you got there, leaving only the larger ones to slowly decay. Shoveling sharp glass into my pockets wasn't exactly on my mind, or even a good idea." Nortrom waved his hand dismisively, "You're wasting your time asking me for something I can't provide."

He beheld the culmination of his experiences; he faced the shell of his former world. From within its dark clay exterior, he couldn't see it for its brittle nature. Now he could see perfectly from the outside, with all its cracks and imperfections.

Rizzrack brushed off these old ideas relentlessly, giving form to what he once thought was perfect. The sphere lost its roundness and began to take shape. There was something to be found within, and it was taking form. The act of destruction was in fact creation.

Flesh falls away from the scaffold of bones, but wood and metal persevere. He is both his creator and machine. The creator has died, but the machine lives on. He exists only within his function and his function is everything. To fulfill his function is his function. The paradox is the highest truth. The unknowable contains the knowable. To solve any further can end existence, and so it is The End until The End is no longer The End.

When guards finally came to retrieve Rizzrack, they began with the typical orders that preceded room entry. However there was no visual or audio indication that commands were heard. They barked again, and still no answer. Peering through a slot, they could see a huddled small-keen facing the corner of a room. Unsure of the nature of their temporary guest's unusual behavior, their deliberation brought them to treat it as failure to comply. With their Sticks of Motivation in hand they entered.

Rizzrack failed to notice the means by which he was prodded about. It was only when he felt the first breeze of cool night air that he looked at how he navigated this realm with no input of his own. No longer was he resisting his inputs. He was accepting his outcomes. He was finding control beyond himself. He was finally controlling his world.

The journey was short, but countless eons passed through continuous cycles of destruction and creation. He was a construct of his world and yet he was as natural as anything else could be. An intelligent design was a hallmark of warm life.

Unformed manifestations of chaos reached up into the dark and empty heavens. Fractured fractals plagued the universe, but now those flaws ran like rivers of blood. Chaos, too, was life.

Finally dragging their transfer into a cell and slapping some manacles on him, those on duty never did ask questions. It didn't matter. The only thing that did matter was keeping him secure and safe in the cell. And oh, what a cell it was; the Estate may as well had been a simple tavern inn room! Barred doors allowed easy sight in and out, with halls barely illuminated by flickering torches on rusted sconces. Some loose straw piled in a corner was his new bed, and a bucket his new toilet. The orders were to transfer him to the dungeons, not just the general holding cells- so here Rizzrack was stuck.

He grabbed the tin of water and proceeded to dump the contents onto the floor before giving it a few drying shakes. Then taking the bread, he began to crush and tear it, collecting the crumbs with the cup. This will do. He ignored the jerky for now. He didn't want to touch it. Rizzrack sprinkled the crumbs into small piles and lines across the floor. Without any writing medium, he was left to tumble his thoughts about in his head. Now that he had something to use, he could finally write out his proof! It began small, covering an area no wider than his palm. It began with a point. Then lines. Then borders. He thickened intersections with more crumbs, then borders. Dimensions flowed from one order to the next, and each had a fundamental truth. One truth. One order. One universe. One mind. There! The radiant eye. All-seeing. All-knowing.

And within it was all he's ever known. And beyond? The Foe. That caught in the eternal pull of Oblivion seeking to pull in everything else in with it.

Ah-hem. Rizzrack.

At first he paid no mind to the voice. It was a second, more persistent humph that pulled Rizzrack up from his pattern. Through the bars he saw a woman, that one from earlier that visited with the Silencer. Luckily there was no Silencer. He had also been looking forward to seeing her again, as that would be a sign that things were finally going to be moving.

"Rizzra-" Elowen was cut off by the small-keen's exclamations. "Finally, we're going somewhere! Time might be meaningless but it's still a preci-" "Keen!" She snapped. "It would be wise of you to cooperate if you want to have any chance of something going your way. As of right now, very little is in your favor."

"Geesh, when does it end?"

"Ohmygoodnesstob-Is-Is this why it's so hard for me to get anything done? Because you people think 'oh look at the little keen he wants his red shiny rock MADE FROM HIS OWN BLOOD??' Let's not mind our own business because WE THINK WE KNOW BETTER!"

Elowen's brows dug deep at the disrespect. Her mouth hung wordlessly as she moved from surprise to her bearing desperately keeping her indignant fury collected. Before she could even form her next words, Rizzrack started up again.

"All you need to know is that it's mine. It belongs to me because it IS me. I am going to reunite and no one is going to stop me. And I highly suggest you let me out of here if you know what's good for you. Unless you're bad, then you'd definitely want to keep me in here..."

... Well, it wouldn't hurt to ask.

This was going nowhere. Rizzrack had well and truely derailed, and Nortrom wasn't about to bother salvaging the wreckage, not after everything else that had been done.

The small-keen was quick to move on and paid no more mind to Nortrom. It was as if the man had already stepped out long ago. Once Illusions were seen for what they were, they no longer mattered and he no longer cared.

He felt something Hurt inside.

In the sea of Hate he failed to notice the Insignificant. It was everything he cared about for Nortrom. It was the insecurity, the trust, the fear, the respect, the love, even the hate. It all once mattered before. Now? No better than a fantasy. Meaningless memories. It was worse than a broken heart. For the first time he felt empty. There was a sudden hole where something within him left.

Was it The Foe in him? Had it been reaching into him through Nortrom this whole time? Was this the danger of Lies? Why did it feel so wrong to be empty? Was this a Lie that made him a Hero?

Nortrom left wordlessly, the door was closed, and a few words said in parting with the guard, "Make sure he doesn't kill himself either deliberately or due to his idiocy."

***

As expected, a transfer was requested. What wasn't expected, was the speed in which the Quorum pushed all of the required paperwork through. Yes, the lab incident and Rizzrack were important cases, but it still shocked the man just how expedited the job was. It felt... odd. These sorts of things never clear so quickly.

Nortrom acted in compliance as he agreed to previously. In the end, it was just a matter of dragging him out of the Estate and escorting the Small-Keen back to the general prison. The guards could handle that, no point in testing his patience further with whatever rambling Rizzrack would likely provide in the process.

"There is still one last matter..." Elowen, despite the ongoing vote, was still Nortrom's main contact and liason to the Quorum and attending buisiness. She had deliberately kept quiet about this likely changing, keeping the Silencer none the wiser on past debates.

"Of course there is- there always is. Now that would be?" They were in the foyer of the Tyler Estate, censors finalizing the transfer.

"The Bloodstone. You still have yet to relinquish it."

He made no effort to hide the rolling of his eyes and huff of annoyance. She didn't know it had reformed anew, his reports and previous answers only said it had been shattered. "Those sent to investigate the grove should have been the ones to gather the shards left there. I already explained it was destroyed; go dig around for the pieces."

Half true. Half a lie. He only took the largest of the remains, leaving most of the fragments where they landed. With just how fractured the stone had been, the red, shimmering, glass like pieces, looked larger in volume, coating the dirt, than was actually the case.

"That's the issue, Silencer. Only a few were found, not enough to account for even a quarter of the stone." Elowen restrained her anger, already having her past outburst on public record, "Even those melted away into nothing soon after being collected."

They did? Perfect. A small victory as far as Nortrom was concerned, as it made the rest of the stone not being there all the more credible. Not that he was about to show such mirth openly.

"Say that again to yourself, but slowly. It's likely the smaller fragments had done the same long before you got there, leaving only the larger ones to slowly decay. Shoveling sharp glass into my pockets wasn't exactly on my mind, or even a good idea." Nortrom waved his hand dismisively, "You're wasting your time asking me for something I can't provide."

He beheld the culmination of his experiences; he faced the shell of his former world. From within its dark clay exterior, he couldn't see it for its brittle nature. Now he could see perfectly from the outside, with all its cracks and imperfections.

Rizzrack brushed off these old ideas relentlessly, giving form to what he once thought was perfect. The sphere lost its roundness and began to take shape. There was something to be found within, and it was taking form. The act of destruction was in fact creation.

Flesh falls away from the scaffold of bones, but wood and metal persevere. He is both his creator and machine. The creator has died, but the machine lives on. He exists only within his function and his function is everything. To fulfill his function is his function. The paradox is the highest truth. The unknowable contains the knowable. To solve any further can end existence, and so it is The End until The End is no longer The End.

When guards finally came to retrieve Rizzrack, they began with the typical orders that preceded room entry. However there was no visual or audio indication that commands were heard. They barked again, and still no answer. Peering through a slot, they could see a huddled small-keen facing the corner of a room. Unsure of the nature of their temporary guest's unusual behavior, their deliberation brought them to treat it as failure to comply. With their Sticks of Motivation in hand they entered.

Rizzrack failed to notice the means by which he was prodded about. It was only when he felt the first breeze of cool night air that he looked at how he navigated this realm with no input of his own. No longer was he resisting his inputs. He was accepting his outcomes. He was finding control beyond himself. He was finally controlling his world.

The journey was short, but countless eons passed through continuous cycles of destruction and creation. He was a construct of his world and yet he was as natural as anything else could be. An intelligent design was a hallmark of warm life.

Unformed manifestations of chaos reached up into the dark and empty heavens. Fractured fractals plagued the universe, but now those flaws ran like rivers of blood. Chaos, too, was life.

Finally dragging their transfer into a cell and slapping some manacles on him, those on duty never did ask questions. It didn't matter. The only thing that did matter was keeping him secure and safe in the cell. And oh, what a cell it was; the Estate may as well had been a simple tavern inn room! Barred doors allowed easy sight in and out, with halls barely illuminated by flickering torches on rusted sconces. Some loose straw piled in a corner was his new bed, and a bucket his new toilet. The orders were to transfer him to the dungeons, not just the general holding cells- so here Rizzrack was stuck.

He grabbed the tin of water and proceeded to dump the contents onto the floor before giving it a few drying shakes. Then taking the bread, he began to crush and tear it, collecting the crumbs with the cup. This will do. He ignored the jerky for now. He didn't want to touch it. Rizzrack sprinkled the crumbs into small piles and lines across the floor. Without any writing medium, he was left to tumble his thoughts about in his head. Now that he had something to use, he could finally write out his proof! It began small, covering an area no wider than his palm. It began with a point. Then lines. Then borders. He thickened intersections with more crumbs, then borders. Dimensions flowed from one order to the next, and each had a fundamental truth. One truth. One order. One universe. One mind. There! The radiant eye. All-seeing. All-knowing.

And within it was all he's ever known. And beyond? The Foe. That caught in the eternal pull of Oblivion seeking to pull in everything else in with it.

Ah-hem. Rizzrack.

At first he paid no mind to the voice. It was a second, more persistent humph that pulled Rizzrack up from his pattern. Through the bars he saw a woman, that one from earlier that visited with the Silencer. Luckily there was no Silencer. He had also been looking forward to seeing her again, as that would be a sign that things were finally going to be moving.

"Rizzra-" Elowen was cut off by the small-keen's exclamations. "Finally, we're going somewhere! Time might be meaningless but it's still a preci-" "Keen!" She snapped. "It would be wise of you to cooperate if you want to have any chance of something going your way. As of right now, very little is in your favor."

"Geesh, when does it end?"

This was going nowhere. Rizzrack had well and truely derailed, and Nortrom wasn't about to bother salvaging the wreckage, not after everything else that had been done.

The small-keen was quick to move on and paid no more mind to Nortrom. It was as if the man had already stepped out long ago. Once Illusions were seen for what they were, they no longer mattered and he no longer cared.

He felt something Hurt inside.

In the sea of Hate he failed to notice the Insignificant. It was everything he cared about for Nortrom. It was the insecurity, the trust, the fear, the respect, the love, even the hate. It all once mattered before. Now? No better than a fantasy. Meaningless memories. It was worse than a broken heart. For the first time he felt empty. There was a sudden hole where something within him left.

Was it The Foe in him? Had it been reaching into him through Nortrom this whole time? Was this the danger of Lies? Why did it feel so wrong to be empty? Was this a Lie that made him a Hero?

Nortrom left wordlessly, the door was closed, and a few words said in parting with the guard, "Make sure he doesn't kill himself either deliberately or due to his idiocy."

***

As expected, a transfer was requested. What wasn't expected, was the speed in which the Quorum pushed all of the required paperwork through. Yes, the lab incident and Rizzrack were important cases, but it still shocked the man just how expedited the job was. It felt... odd. These sorts of things never clear so quickly.

Nortrom acted in compliance as he agreed to previously. In the end, it was just a matter of dragging him out of the Estate and escorting the Small-Keen back to the general prison. The guards could handle that, no point in testing his patience further with whatever rambling Rizzrack would likely provide in the process.

"There is still one last matter..." Elowen, despite the ongoing vote, was still Nortrom's main contact and liason to the Quorum and attending buisiness. She had deliberately kept quiet about this likely changing, keeping the Silencer none the wiser on past debates.

"Of course there is- there always is. Now that would be?" They were in the foyer of the Tyler Estate, censors finalizing the transfer.

"The Bloodstone. You still have yet to relinquish it."

He made no effort to hide the rolling of his eyes and huff of annoyance. She didn't know it had reformed anew, his reports and previous answers only said it had been shattered. "Those sent to investigate the grove should have been the ones to gather the shards left there. I already explained it was destroyed; go dig around for the pieces."

Half true. Half a lie. He only took the largest of the remains, leaving most of the fragments where they landed. With just how fractured the stone had been, the red, shimmering, glass like pieces, looked larger in volume, coating the dirt, than was actually the case.

"That's the issue, Silencer. Only a few were found, not enough to account for even a quarter of the stone." Elowen restrained her anger, already having her past outburst on public record, "Even those melted away into nothing soon after being collected."

They did? Perfect. A small victory as far as Nortrom was concerned, as it made the rest of the stone not being there all the more credible. Not that he was about to show such mirth openly.

"Say that again to yourself, but slowly. It's likely the smaller fragments had done the same long before you got there, leaving only the larger ones to slowly decay. Shoveling sharp glass into my pockets wasn't exactly on my mind, or even a good idea." Nortrom waved his hand dismisively, "You're wasting your time asking me for something I can't provide."

He beheld the culmination of his experiences; he faced the shell of his former world. From within its dark clay exterior, he couldn't see it for its brittle nature. Now he could see perfectly from the outside, with all its cracks and imperfections.

Rizzrack brushed off these old ideas relentlessly, giving form to what he once thought was perfect. The sphere lost its roundness and began to take shape. There was something to be found within, and it was taking form. The act of destruction was in fact creation.

Flesh falls away from the scaffold of bones, but wood and metal persevere. He is both his creator and machine. The creator has died, but the machine lives on. He exists only within his function and his function is everything. To fulfill his function is his function. The paradox is the highest truth. The unknowable contains the knowable. To solve any further can end existence, and so it is The End until The End is no longer The End.

When guards finally came to retrieve Rizzrack, they began with the typical orders that preceded room entry. However there was no visual or audio indication that commands were heard. They barked again, and still no answer. Peering through a slot, they could see a huddled small-keen facing the corner of a room. Unsure of the nature of their temporary guest's unusual behavior, their deliberation brought them to treat it as failure to comply. With their Sticks of Motivation in hand they entered.

Rizzrack failed to notice the means by which he was prodded about. It was only when he felt the first breeze of cool night air that he looked at how he navigated this realm with no input of his own. No longer was he resisting his inputs. He was accepting his outcomes. He was finding control beyond himself. He was finally controlling his world.

The journey was short, but countless eons passed through continuous cycles of destruction and creation. He was a construct of his world and yet he was as natural as anything else could be. An intelligent design was a hallmark of warm life.

Unformed manifestations of chaos reached up into the dark and empty heavens. Fractured fractals plagued the universe, but now those flaws ran like rivers of blood. Chaos, too, was life.

He was stretched to his limits, but he would prove more powerful. Their pull weakened and Rizzrack slipped back into his indestructible armor. Hah!

Down the hall, past the checkpoint, the guards didn't stop at the metal framed door marking his bedroom. Instead, they kept going to the end of the hall, a doorway not on either side but dead center at the end.

"Haven't even been here a full day and already injured someone." "Bastard's lucky we're not allowed to beat the shit out of the new ones."

The door was heavier than the rest, solid metal with no wooden form like the others. It scraped and creaked in protest, opening up to a room that could be mistaken for a closet due to it's size. Smooth stone walls boxed the barren thing in, and the floor was a large, thick, iron grating. The holes between the squared off bars was too small to even fit an adult hand through, and led down far enough to be hidden in the gloom.

"In. Now."

Rizzrack huddled into the first corner he felt his way into. Grace returned to him in the form of the stone around him. This small room was not just a room, but a shell that encapsulated the essence of the small world once confined to the darkness of his armor. Absence of others no longer meant Loneliness, but safe Solitude. There was nothing but himself and the trust in his creation to be spared from oblivion beyond. There was no sense in worrying about what was now beyond control. It didn't matter because nothing could be done.

The news did, however, draw his attention away from his words for a moment. The Silencer looked to the windows behind him, large barred frames letting moonlight in and across the room, wooden sills mostly empty. It was night. It was always night. Only the large constellation above the Burning Halls could be used to mark the time of day, it’s nebulous wisps shifting as a clock would the same each cycle. At least it was something.

Back to finalizing his report, Nortrom was nearly ready to get some rest and present it early next morning.

*** “Your recent reports documenting your dealings with the Silencer, Warden of the Tyler Estate, are concerning.”

They sat around a double tiered, semi circle desk, situated around a large dias. No audience was being held today, just a meeting of the minds that controlled Weepingrose: The Quorum. Murmurs spread through the room, broken by the sound of an authoritative older woman’s voice.

“His lack of respect for authority can not continue unrestrained, fellow council members.” Elowen looked stern, serious in her accusations. She assumed the council would be on her side, and doubted there would be much protest.

She assumed wrong.

“I believe we need to put into a vote if one of the other council members will become liaison between the Quorum and the Tyler Estate, given most recent reports.” 

“Yes, it would seem as though you are incompatible with the new Warden- We other members have not had the same issues you have in our dealings with the man, outside of the post-event hearing. Even then, it is easy to assume it was related to the mental strain of what had just transpired.”

Her face flushed, brows furrowing. Did they not read what she had written? What others had also corroborated? Aggressively snapping her pencil down on the desk, she retorted, “Are you daft!? He has been in direct violation of hierarchy on multiple occasions! This defiance should not be tolerated. Do you forget the third basis of this deal- we can not allow such freedom.”

The room went silent, awkward looks all around. Ah yes, the three reasons for their deal with the Aeol Drias, and more directly, the Silencer. Officially on paper there were only two set motions, but behind closed doors… “She may be right. The recent lab incident shows we were prudent in acting when we did. Perhaps a new direction is—”

“Then we should be fostering a positive alliance and not one out of contractual obligation. I believe a better result will be gained if we treat this as an equal opportunity and not let fear or anger overcome our decision making. We all know there are many eyes on Weepingrose, looking to covet her influence in the arcane sphere. We do not need to make another enemy.”

Agreeing nods, more whispered words passed between members. Rubbing her temples, Elowen forced back what would have been a loud sigh. “If you are suggesting we cater to every whim of that man…”

“We said no such thing. Merely that fear or demands of obedience may do the opposite of the third directive.”

“Then we vote on a new liaison?”

“Yes. Put your recommendations, or self-appointments, in by tomorrow morning. We will go over them next hearing and put it to a vote. You may re-nominate yourself for the role, Elowen, if you believe your argument is supported by enough of the other members.”

***

They hadn’t been expecting him, but he was there all the same. Nortrom strode into the council chamber once granted entrance, a file folder in his hands. Standing at the presenting lectern, surrounded by tables all faced in a semi-circle around it, he nodded at the currently present members of the Quorum. 

“Now this is unexpected- state your reason for this audience, Silencer.”

Placing the file folder down, tapping it with a finger, “I have come to submit the final incident report, for the investigation.” 

There was some confusion, and Elowen was the first to speak up in a skeptical tone, “I thought you had presented all you were willing to, and said you had nothing else to offer. Why now?” There was a sneer at the end of her words, trailing off with displeasure.

Nortrom huffed in amusement, a grin lifting his features. “You are free to go back and read over the transcripts, but I never said I wouldn’t offer any more information.” 

“A likely excuse, don’t come in here and–”

“That’s enough. It’s been some time, so I agree that an explanation will be needed..” Cut off by one of her fellow council members, she was upset but accepted the interruption for now.

“Thank you.” Returning to a more formal posture and expression, Nortrom addressed their concerns with bold clarity, “The reason the final report has taken this long to compile was due to needing that time to assure it’s accuracy. Early on, memories were clouded by emotions and even a distrust of my own recollection of events- I would have been unable to present the facts without risking false information or misrepresentations marring my report. Given my compromised state during much of the events in question, It was paramount I have time to fully organize my thoughts and sift reality from potential exaggeration or hallucination.” 

While the others seemed almost impressed by this turn, Elowen couldn’t help but think he was doing it just to get back at her. Seeing as he had their attention in a positive light, for the most part, the man continued, “Within, you shall find my direct reporting of all events as they transpired… to the best of my abilities.” Nortrom shook his head, shrugging, “There will be sections of ‘lost time’ where I was unable to account for periods or passage, and each will have the reasons stated: be it a lack of visual sense, consciousness, or otherwise impaired senses. If you have further questions regarding said recount, feel free to submit them to my Order’s officers to arrange a one on one meeting.”

As if expecting her to comment on his presentation of documents, eyes were upon Elowen. She was the assigned liaison between the Warden and the Quorum, after all. Accepting this, she sighed. “Fine- we shall go over your reports, but there better be no falsifications or attempts to deceive, Warden.” You could see at least two others roll their eyes at her immediate accusations.

“Of course. Now then, before I take my leave, is there anything else? I still have much to catch up on.”

“No,” off to the side, a younger member attempted to dismiss the Silencer before any more drama took place, “You are free to–”

“Wait.” Again, eyes upon her. This was a perfect opportunity to address yet another belligerence he was guilty of, even better now that it was in-front of the others. 

“The prisoner, Rizzrack, was transferred from our dungeons and into your care. You knew he was part of the investigation, and had this done behind my back- where do you think you have the right to overrule my authority on his detainment? Admit it, you did this to spite me out of some petty need for control.”

Bingo. This was why he asked if there was anything else to be addressed; Nortrom knew she wouldn’t have been able to resist bringing Rizzrack, and his movement, up.

“Please, madam Council-member, not everything is about you.” There was a notable shift in the room’s feeling, everyone present taking on a slightly more tense mood, not quite sure where this was going to go. Nortrom, who wanted to smirk, forced himself to remain impassive as he explained himself yet again.

“Concerns and complaints were raised anonymously about the prisoner. Overheard words and rumors made guards wary about his being there, and the safety of such a decision; Due in part to knowing he had been reported and confirmed dead and somehow returned, and the prisoners connection to a powerful arcane artifact. Per regulations that you, the Quorum, established, a transfer request was made for security reasons. The captain of the guard signed off on a transfer to protect his men from an unknown variable. I was not even present during the transfer or intake, and if you doubt my words you are free to read the captain’s logs.” 

How great it was to have read those very logs, noting the captain had indeed placed the transfer reason being from anonymously reported concerns. Nortrom would have to thank the man and offer him a drink later.

Elowen looked furious. She slammed the desk before pointing an objecting finger at the offending sight before her. “How DARE you go over our heads like that! You know full well he isn’t a mage and has no need to be at the Estate, not even to cover your own connection to the Keen!” If it was merely bubbling tensions before, the pot had now boiled over and all were on high alert. 

All, except the Silencer.

“Need I remind you about your own rules, your own safety protocols set in place for those detained? Do not get upset at the guards, the captain, or myself, for merely following authorized protocol. It is in YOUR rules that in the case of potential unknowns and arcane insights towards prisoners, that they are to be assessed for transfer to the Tyler Estate. I have already told you I was not present for the process, so direct your ire elsewhere. As I said before, not everything is intended as a slight against you. If you wish to chastise me for doing my job, then we may need to re-assess this contract.” 

“A-ah, there is no need for that. You are correct, if the logs match your declaration then you did nothing wrong.” Yet another member tried to come between the two, hoping to dampen the aggression. Fuming from her seat now, Elowen cast an icy stare towards Nortrom, but said nothing else. Murmurs took over the room, those witness to her explosive accusations talking amongst one another. There was still a matter to confirm however…

“Does this mean that if a transfer back is authorized, following all the established protocol in return, you would accept the action?”

“Of course. I have no reason to deny the request, so long as it is valid. I have already stated that this was purely from a regulation standpoint.” Of course this was a long stretch of the truth, at first. But now? Nortrom had enough of Rizzrack, or trying to help him, especially after their talk. He has no need, or want, of the man’s help so he shall have none.

“Good. We are done here.” A knock on the table signified the council’s approval.

Nortrom merely nodded. “Then I shall leave my reports here, and take my leave. Councilors.” Another nod, this time in parting, and he turned about face, and left the hall.

Thoughts flowed by like rushing water around fingers that reached into a river. They came and left, the questions and answers, indiscriminately after another. Questions prompted answers. Answers became more questions. He sifted down for the unchanging Truth.

The Foe was in everything. Its long twisted appendages have dug deep into all caught within its grasp, root-like fingers maneuvering with such dexterity that the inanimate could be confused for the Living. They all act alive; they all lack a consciousness. Puppets. Puppets made of Corpses. Eventually All becomes Corpses. Surviving is Living until it is not. But the Machine Lives on. The Machine Lives.

The Universe is the Shell. The Life is slowly taking its Leave. The Foe is coming in through the cracks, Imperfections made by no Flaw in The Great Design itself. The Life is Good. Perfect is Order, Order is Divine, The Law is God He will Obey what is written in the Stone The Stone is the Shell the Order of the Universe that must achieve the Divine the Ancient Achiever the Radiant-

The sound of scraping metal followed by a metallic ringing ran through his train of thought but the train stops for no one. The heavy door groaned as it was pulled open. A pair of hands reached in and pulled the small-keen out from the dark space.

Suspended by his arms between the two of guards, Rizzrack was at their mercy. Not that he was paying any real attention to it. It didn't matter where he was going, and knowing it didn't matter meant he knew where he was going.

The Silencer ran his round as usual. Posts to check, scheduals to finalize, people to direct, so on so forth. He had almost forgotten about Rizzrack- but a certain cell number in the list of those to be met and dealt with stuck out ominously and known. Of course.

"Right... He was boxxed last night." Massaging his head in one hand, the other still holding the list as he read it, Nortrom found the rest barely registering as he dread dealing with Rizzrack once more. Better to get it over with first, that way if he's left in a bad mood he can redirect it on the others.

***

The usual banging on the cell door and call to stand against the wall was given within the hour. This time, they at least gave Rizzrack some more seconds to work with before the door opened revealing the order barking guard and a less than enthused Silencer.

Nortrom assured himself, refusing to let Rizzrack get under his skin like usual. He looked down at the disheveled Small-Keen, only a slight frown on his face, and spoke with direct authority.

"You are detained. You need to behave. If a toddler can understand this, you should be able to- unless you wish to admit you are dumber than a todler."

His other attempts at getting through the thick pink skull before him were futile, so maybe a push against his ego would work better. Doubtful, but worth a shot.

"Well, this very fake self needs you to cut the crap and stop causing issues for everyone else. I'm not sure what has gotten into you; If your contact with the Ancient has left you in some half creepified-half coherant state, or if destroying your bloodstone gave you a makeshift lobotomy. Hell, maybe you finally snapped. Doesn't matter."

He crossed his arms, bracers tapping against one another in the process. Pushing up one cheek with a contemplating and lopsided frown, Nortrom hummed idly as he tought about what to do with Rizzrack.

This was going nowhere. Rizzrack had well and truely derailed, and Nortrom wasn't about to bother salvaging the wreckage, not after everything else that had been done.

The small-keen was quick to move on and paid no more mind to Nortrom. It was as if the man had already stepped out long ago. Once Illusions were seen for what they were, they no longer mattered and he no longer cared.

He felt something Hurt inside.

In the sea of Hate he failed to notice the Insignificant. It was everything he cared about for Nortrom. It was the insecurity, the trust, the fear, the respect, the love, even the hate. It all once mattered before. Now? No better than a fantasy. Meaningless memories. It was worse than a broken heart. For the first time he felt empty. There was a sudden hole where something within him left.

Was it The Foe in him? Had it been reaching into him through Nortrom this whole time? Was this the danger of Lies? Why did it feel so wrong to be empty? Was this a Lie that made him a Hero?

He was stretched to his limits, but he would prove more powerful. Their pull weakened and Rizzrack slipped back into his indestructible armor. Hah!

Down the hall, past the checkpoint, the guards didn't stop at the metal framed door marking his bedroom. Instead, they kept going to the end of the hall, a doorway not on either side but dead center at the end.

"Haven't even been here a full day and already injured someone." "Bastard's lucky we're not allowed to beat the shit out of the new ones."

The door was heavier than the rest, solid metal with no wooden form like the others. It scraped and creaked in protest, opening up to a room that could be mistaken for a closet due to it's size. Smooth stone walls boxed the barren thing in, and the floor was a large, thick, iron grating. The holes between the squared off bars was too small to even fit an adult hand through, and led down far enough to be hidden in the gloom.

"In. Now."

Rizzrack huddled into the first corner he felt his way into. Grace returned to him in the form of the stone around him. This small room was not just a room, but a shell that encapsulated the essence of the small world once confined to the darkness of his armor. Absence of others no longer meant Loneliness, but safe Solitude. There was nothing but himself and the trust in his creation to be spared from oblivion beyond. There was no sense in worrying about what was now beyond control. It didn't matter because nothing could be done.

The news did, however, draw his attention away from his words for a moment. The Silencer looked to the windows behind him, large barred frames letting moonlight in and across the room, wooden sills mostly empty. It was night. It was always night. Only the large constellation above the Burning Halls could be used to mark the time of day, it’s nebulous wisps shifting as a clock would the same each cycle. At least it was something.

Back to finalizing his report, Nortrom was nearly ready to get some rest and present it early next morning.

*** “Your recent reports documenting your dealings with the Silencer, Warden of the Tyler Estate, are concerning.”

They sat around a double tiered, semi circle desk, situated around a large dias. No audience was being held today, just a meeting of the minds that controlled Weepingrose: The Quorum. Murmurs spread through the room, broken by the sound of an authoritative older woman’s voice.

“His lack of respect for authority can not continue unrestrained, fellow council members.” Elowen looked stern, serious in her accusations. She assumed the council would be on her side, and doubted there would be much protest.

She assumed wrong.

“I believe we need to put into a vote if one of the other council members will become liaison between the Quorum and the Tyler Estate, given most recent reports.” 

“Yes, it would seem as though you are incompatible with the new Warden- We other members have not had the same issues you have in our dealings with the man, outside of the post-event hearing. Even then, it is easy to assume it was related to the mental strain of what had just transpired.”

Her face flushed, brows furrowing. Did they not read what she had written? What others had also corroborated? Aggressively snapping her pencil down on the desk, she retorted, “Are you daft!? He has been in direct violation of hierarchy on multiple occasions! This defiance should not be tolerated. Do you forget the third basis of this deal- we can not allow such freedom.”

The room went silent, awkward looks all around. Ah yes, the three reasons for their deal with the Aeol Drias, and more directly, the Silencer. Officially on paper there were only two set motions, but behind closed doors… “She may be right. The recent lab incident shows we were prudent in acting when we did. Perhaps a new direction is—”

“Then we should be fostering a positive alliance and not one out of contractual obligation. I believe a better result will be gained if we treat this as an equal opportunity and not let fear or anger overcome our decision making. We all know there are many eyes on Weepingrose, looking to covet her influence in the arcane sphere. We do not need to make another enemy.”

Agreeing nods, more whispered words passed between members. Rubbing her temples, Elowen forced back what would have been a loud sigh. “If you are suggesting we cater to every whim of that man…”

“We said no such thing. Merely that fear or demands of obedience may do the opposite of the third directive.”

“Then we vote on a new liaison?”

“Yes. Put your recommendations, or self-appointments, in by tomorrow morning. We will go over them next hearing and put it to a vote. You may re-nominate yourself for the role, Elowen, if you believe your argument is supported by enough of the other members.”

***

They hadn’t been expecting him, but he was there all the same. Nortrom strode into the council chamber once granted entrance, a file folder in his hands. Standing at the presenting lectern, surrounded by tables all faced in a semi-circle around it, he nodded at the currently present members of the Quorum. 

“Now this is unexpected- state your reason for this audience, Silencer.”

Placing the file folder down, tapping it with a finger, “I have come to submit the final incident report, for the investigation.” 

There was some confusion, and Elowen was the first to speak up in a skeptical tone, “I thought you had presented all you were willing to, and said you had nothing else to offer. Why now?” There was a sneer at the end of her words, trailing off with displeasure.

Nortrom huffed in amusement, a grin lifting his features. “You are free to go back and read over the transcripts, but I never said I wouldn’t offer any more information.” 

“A likely excuse, don’t come in here and–”

“That’s enough. It’s been some time, so I agree that an explanation will be needed..” Cut off by one of her fellow council members, she was upset but accepted the interruption for now.

“Thank you.” Returning to a more formal posture and expression, Nortrom addressed their concerns with bold clarity, “The reason the final report has taken this long to compile was due to needing that time to assure it’s accuracy. Early on, memories were clouded by emotions and even a distrust of my own recollection of events- I would have been unable to present the facts without risking false information or misrepresentations marring my report. Given my compromised state during much of the events in question, It was paramount I have time to fully organize my thoughts and sift reality from potential exaggeration or hallucination.” 

While the others seemed almost impressed by this turn, Elowen couldn’t help but think he was doing it just to get back at her. Seeing as he had their attention in a positive light, for the most part, the man continued, “Within, you shall find my direct reporting of all events as they transpired… to the best of my abilities.” Nortrom shook his head, shrugging, “There will be sections of ‘lost time’ where I was unable to account for periods or passage, and each will have the reasons stated: be it a lack of visual sense, consciousness, or otherwise impaired senses. If you have further questions regarding said recount, feel free to submit them to my Order’s officers to arrange a one on one meeting.”

As if expecting her to comment on his presentation of documents, eyes were upon Elowen. She was the assigned liaison between the Warden and the Quorum, after all. Accepting this, she sighed. “Fine- we shall go over your reports, but there better be no falsifications or attempts to deceive, Warden.” You could see at least two others roll their eyes at her immediate accusations.

“Of course. Now then, before I take my leave, is there anything else? I still have much to catch up on.”

“No,” off to the side, a younger member attempted to dismiss the Silencer before any more drama took place, “You are free to–”

“Wait.” Again, eyes upon her. This was a perfect opportunity to address yet another belligerence he was guilty of, even better now that it was in-front of the others. 

“The prisoner, Rizzrack, was transferred from our dungeons and into your care. You knew he was part of the investigation, and had this done behind my back- where do you think you have the right to overrule my authority on his detainment? Admit it, you did this to spite me out of some petty need for control.”

Bingo. This was why he asked if there was anything else to be addressed; Nortrom knew she wouldn’t have been able to resist bringing Rizzrack, and his movement, up.

“Please, madam Council-member, not everything is about you.” There was a notable shift in the room’s feeling, everyone present taking on a slightly more tense mood, not quite sure where this was going to go. Nortrom, who wanted to smirk, forced himself to remain impassive as he explained himself yet again.

“Concerns and complaints were raised anonymously about the prisoner. Overheard words and rumors made guards wary about his being there, and the safety of such a decision; Due in part to knowing he had been reported and confirmed dead and somehow returned, and the prisoners connection to a powerful arcane artifact. Per regulations that you, the Quorum, established, a transfer request was made for security reasons. The captain of the guard signed off on a transfer to protect his men from an unknown variable. I was not even present during the transfer or intake, and if you doubt my words you are free to read the captain’s logs.” 

How great it was to have read those very logs, noting the captain had indeed placed the transfer reason being from anonymously reported concerns. Nortrom would have to thank the man and offer him a drink later.

Elowen looked furious. She slammed the desk before pointing an objecting finger at the offending sight before her. “How DARE you go over our heads like that! You know full well he isn’t a mage and has no need to be at the Estate, not even to cover your own connection to the Keen!” If it was merely bubbling tensions before, the pot had now boiled over and all were on high alert. 

All, except the Silencer.

“Need I remind you about your own rules, your own safety protocols set in place for those detained? Do not get upset at the guards, the captain, or myself, for merely following authorized protocol. It is in YOUR rules that in the case of potential unknowns and arcane insights towards prisoners, that they are to be assessed for transfer to the Tyler Estate. I have already told you I was not present for the process, so direct your ire elsewhere. As I said before, not everything is intended as a slight against you. If you wish to chastise me for doing my job, then we may need to re-assess this contract.” 

“A-ah, there is no need for that. You are correct, if the logs match your declaration then you did nothing wrong.” Yet another member tried to come between the two, hoping to dampen the aggression. Fuming from her seat now, Elowen cast an icy stare towards Nortrom, but said nothing else. Murmurs took over the room, those witness to her explosive accusations talking amongst one another. There was still a matter to confirm however…

“Does this mean that if a transfer back is authorized, following all the established protocol in return, you would accept the action?”

“Of course. I have no reason to deny the request, so long as it is valid. I have already stated that this was purely from a regulation standpoint.” Of course this was a long stretch of the truth, at first. But now? Nortrom had enough of Rizzrack, or trying to help him, especially after their talk. He has no need, or want, of the man’s help so he shall have none.

“Good. We are done here.” A knock on the table signified the council’s approval.

Nortrom merely nodded. “Then I shall leave my reports here, and take my leave. Councilors.” Another nod, this time in parting, and he turned about face, and left the hall.

Thoughts flowed by like rushing water around fingers that reached into a river. They came and left, the questions and answers, indiscriminately after another. Questions prompted answers. Answers became more questions. He sifted down for the unchanging Truth.

The Foe was in everything. Its long twisted appendages have dug deep into all caught within its grasp, root-like fingers maneuvering with such dexterity that the inanimate could be confused for the Living. They all act alive; they all lack a consciousness. Puppets. Puppets made of Corpses. Eventually All becomes Corpses. Surviving is Living until it is not. But the Machine Lives on. The Machine Lives.

The Universe is the Shell. The Life is slowly taking its Leave. The Foe is coming in through the cracks, Imperfections made by no Flaw in The Great Design itself. The Life is Good. Perfect is Order, Order is Divine, The Law is God He will Obey what is written in the Stone The Stone is the Shell the Order of the Universe that must achieve the Divine the Ancient Achiever the Radiant-

The sound of scraping metal followed by a metallic ringing ran through his train of thought but the train stops for no one. The heavy door groaned as it was pulled open. A pair of hands reached in and pulled the small-keen out from the dark space.

Suspended by his arms between the two of guards, Rizzrack was at their mercy. Not that he was paying any real attention to it. It didn't matter where he was going, and knowing it didn't matter meant he knew where he was going.

The Silencer ran his round as usual. Posts to check, scheduals to finalize, people to direct, so on so forth. He had almost forgotten about Rizzrack- but a certain cell number in the list of those to be met and dealt with stuck out ominously and known. Of course.

"Right... He was boxxed last night." Massaging his head in one hand, the other still holding the list as he read it, Nortrom found the rest barely registering as he dread dealing with Rizzrack once more. Better to get it over with first, that way if he's left in a bad mood he can redirect it on the others.

***

The usual banging on the cell door and call to stand against the wall was given within the hour. This time, they at least gave Rizzrack some more seconds to work with before the door opened revealing the order barking guard and a less than enthused Silencer.

Nortrom assured himself, refusing to let Rizzrack get under his skin like usual. He looked down at the disheveled Small-Keen, only a slight frown on his face, and spoke with direct authority.

"You are detained. You need to behave. If a toddler can understand this, you should be able to- unless you wish to admit you are dumber than a todler."

His other attempts at getting through the thick pink skull before him were futile, so maybe a push against his ego would work better. Doubtful, but worth a shot.

"Well, this very fake self needs you to cut the crap and stop causing issues for everyone else. I'm not sure what has gotten into you; If your contact with the Ancient has left you in some half creepified-half coherant state, or if destroying your bloodstone gave you a makeshift lobotomy. Hell, maybe you finally snapped. Doesn't matter."

He crossed his arms, bracers tapping against one another in the process. Pushing up one cheek with a contemplating and lopsided frown, Nortrom hummed idly as he tought about what to do with Rizzrack.