The truth was Rizzrack didn't know if the Ancient would reach through him. This didn't stop him from imagining that it could in ways he wasn't aware of and in every one of those ways, he had no control over his actions.
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, SĚ´ÍÍ ĚÍÍĚżĚ ĚÍĚĚÍĚłĚĚŁaĚľÍĚÍĚĚĚÍÍĚÍÍĚĚĚÍĚźĚvĚľĚĚ˝ÍÍÍĚĚĽĚź.̸ÍĚÍÍĚĚżĚĚÍĚĘ̼̌ĚĮ́Ę̌ĚÍĚĚŹĚŁĚĚ Ě Ěą.ĚľÍĚ˝ÍĚĚĚĚĚĚĚĚÍĚĚĚĚĚĚłĚĚŞt̡ÍĚĚĚĚĚÍÍÍĚżĚÍÍÍ ÍÍĚĚĚĚŻÍ.̡ÍĚĚÍĚĚḚ̌ÍÍÍ.̡ĚĚĚĚťÍoĚ´ĚÍĚĚÍĚÍÍÍĚĚĚłÍÍ̤̌Í̲ĚĚźĚĚšÍĚŞsĚ´ÍÍÍĚ˝ĚÍĚĚĚÍ, back soaked by a dark sheen, surrounded by the bodies of men, women, and cĚ´ÍÍÍĚĚĚĚÍÍĚžĚĚĚÍÍÍĚŽĚÍ̟̣̊̚ÍÍĚÍ̝̝ÍÍĚĚŞhĚľĚĚÍĚĚÍÍĚĚźÍ̲̚ÍĚĚŽĚ˘Í Ě§Ě˛ĚĄĚĚŚÍiĚśÍÍĚĚ̽̿ĚÍĚÍÍÍĚĚĚÍĚĚÍÍĚ̥̝̳̣̏̚Ě̳̳̊ĚĚąlĚľÍĚÍĚÍĚĚÍĚÍĚÍĚŽĚd̸ĚĚĚĚÍÍĚÍĚÍĚ̳̯ĚĚÍ̹̯ĚÍĚrĚ´ÍĚÍĚĚĚ̞̿ĚĚżĚ Ě§ÍĚÍ̢eĚľĚÍĚÍÍÍĚĚĚÍĚÍĚĚÍÍĚŞĚĽĚĚĚŁÍĚÍĘ̌̌ĚnĚśÍ ĚĚ ÍĚÍÍ̧̯̳̿̍ĚĚŞÍ 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 c̡ĚÍĚÍ ĚĚĚĄĚŻÍĚšĚĚŚÍÍÍoĚśÍĚÍĚĚĚÍÍĚĚÍÍÍĚĄÍu̡ĚĚĚžÍĚĚĚÍÍĚĚŁÍĚ̢nĚ´ĚĚĚĚÍĚĚÍĚĚĚÍĚĚŹĚ̤t̸ĚĚĚ˝ĚĚÍĚÍÍÍÍĚÍĚ̤ÍĚłÍĚĚŠĚ̟̳̲ĚlĚľÍĚÍÍÍĚÍĚĚĚÍÍĚĚĚĚ Í̤ÍĘ̥̌eĚˇĚ ÍÍĚĚĚ˝ÍĚĚĚŠĮ̲́ĚsĚ´ĚÍĚĚÍÍĚ˛ĚŤĚźĚŽĚŻÍ ĚĚŽĚĽĚsĚľÍĮ̝́̊̚ÍĚĚŤĚŹĚŹĚÍĚŻĚÍĚŽ ̸ÍÍĚÍĚĚ̟̏Ę̌Ě̲dĚľĚĚÍĚĚÍ ÍÍĚĚĚÍĚÍĚłĚŽĚ¤Ě Ě˛iĚśĚÍÍĚÍĚÍĚşÍÍḬ́ÍÍĚÍĚĄÍsĚľĚÍ ĚĚĚĚÍĚĚżĚĚĚĚŹĚĚ ĚšĚŚĚ ĚŹĚŁÍÍf̸ÍĚĚÍĚÍĚÍĚÍĚżÍĚÍĚĚĚŁiĚśĚÍÍĚ ĚŞÍĚťÍÍĚ ĚĚ̢Ě̢gĚ´ĚĚĚÍ̢̺ÍĚşĚÍu̸ĚÍĚĚ ĚĚĚĚÍÍ ĚĚÍĚĚĚĚĄÍ̳̰ĚÍrĚśÍÍĚÍĚÍĚ ĚÍ̧ÍĚĚ̍̊̚eĚśĚĚĚĚ˝ĚĚÍÍĚĚĚŁĘ̌ÍĚŻĚÍ̤̣̟̏̌dĚ´ĚĚĚżÍĚĚ˝ÍĚÍÍÍÍĚ Ě¤ÍÍĚ̲ÍĚ ĚľĚĚżÍĚžĚĘ̌̏ĚĚŤĚŚĚĚşk̸ÍĚżĚÍÍĚĚšĚ̢̯ĚȨ̌̌e̡ĚĚżĚ Ě e̡ÍĚ˝ÍĚÍĚÍĚżÍĚ̢̨ĚĚĚŚÍĚĚŹĚĚŠĚĚ ÍnĚśÍĚĚžĚÍĚÍĚÍĚÍÍĚÍĚĚ˝ÍÍÍ̲̪ÍĚÍĚşÍ̧̳ĚĮ́ĚfĚľĚÍĚĚĚĚĚĮ́ĚḬ́Í̤̹ĚĚÍoĚśĚÍÍÍĚžÍ ÍĚĚÍĚĚĚÍlĚľĚÍĚżĚĚÍĘ̌kĚľĚÍĚĚĚżÍÍÍÍÍĚĚÍÍĚĚȨ̥̹̣̼̌ĚĚĽÍÍ ĚšĮ̧̲̼́ Ě´ÍĚÍĚšĚĚ Ě°ĚĚÍĚĚ§ĚźĚ ÍĚĚŠtĚ´ĚĚĚÍĚÍÍÍĚÍĚĚŻhĚ´Ě˝ÍĚĚÍÍĚĚȨ̹̥̌aĚľĚÍĚÍĚÍÍÍĚÍĚ ĚĚĚŻt̡ÍĚĚŞÍÍ Ě¸ĚÍĚÍÍÍÍÍĚÍÍ ÍĚĚĚ̤̟Ḭ̲̟́ÍÍĚŤĚŁĚÍĚĚŹh̸ÍĚĚĚżĚĚ˝ĚĚĚÍÍĚŹĚşÍ̧a̸ĚĚžĚÍĚĚĚÍĚȨ̝̌̚ÍÍ̺̼̟̟ĚÍv̡ĚÍĚĚÍÍĚÍÍĚĚĚÍĚ¤ĚťĚŤĚ ĚąĚŠĚŠĚ˘eĚľÍÍĚÍÍĚĚ̪̳̺̏̚ĚĚŤÍÍĚÍÍ ĚˇĚĚĚÍÍ ÍĚŹÍĚ ĚÍ ĚĚĚÍÍÍ̝̏ĚÍÍĚŚb̸̞ÍÍĚąĚĚŁĚŠÍĚĚĚÍĚ¨ĚłĚ¤Ě§Ě ĚĚšÍe̡ĚÍÍÍĮ̺̰́̌Í̢ĚĚŹÍ̤ĚĚĚ°Í Íe̡ĚĚĚĚĚĚĚÍḚ̢̤̯̌ÍnĚ´ĚĚżÍĚĚĚźÍÍÍĚŹÍÍĚĄÍÍÍĚÍ̢̥̚ ̜̽ĚÍÍĚĚĚĚžĚÍÍĚżĚĚcĚ´ĚĚżĚÍÍĚĚĚÍÍĚĚĚr̸̽̏ÍÍĚĽĚŤÍĚĚĚĽÍÍĚťĚuĚ´ÍÍĚÍĚĚÍÍĚĚÍĚÍÍÍ ÍÍ̧̤̚sĚ´Ě ĚĚĚĚŁḬ́ÍÍĚťĚÍĚŽĚŻĚŞĚŻh̸̿ÍĚÍĚÍÍÍĚŹÍĚťĚĚŁÍĚťeĚľĚĚĚĚĚĚĚĚĚÍĚĚĚżĚĚĄĚĚĚĽĚŚĚłÍĚĚŻĚ ĚŻĚ°Í Ě°ĚĚĚŞdĚśÍĚĚĚĚĚĚÍĚĚĚÍĚÍÍÍÍĚĄÍ,ĚśÍĚŤÍ ĚľĚĚÍĚĚÍĚžÍĚÍĚÍÍĚĚĚŁĚĚŠĚĚĘ̥̌Í̺̊rĚśĚĚĚÍĚÍĚ Ě˘ÍĚťÍĚźĚŹĚ Ě Ě¤i̡ÍĚĚĚĚÍ̢̹̏ÍĚłp̡ĚĚĚĚĚÍĚĚĚÍĚżĚĚĚĚźÍÍ̤ÍĚpĚśĚÍÍ ÍĚĚĚÍÍÍĚŹĚŠĚŞĚ̤̹ÍĚŽĚÍ̤̍ÍÍe̸ÍĚĚÍĚÍÍÍÍÍĚĚĚĚĚŚĚ̲ĚĚşĚdĚ´ÍĚĚĚĚÍĚź ̡̿ÍĚĚĚ ĚĚÍÍÍÍ ÍĚÍĚŤĚŚĚŠÍÍ̢̤̟Ěa̸ĚĚĚÍÍ ĚŠĚĚĚąĚSĚ´ĚĚĚžĚĚĚĚÍ Í̤̳̎ÍÍĚŞĚĚĚĚŚp̸ĚÍĚÍĚÍ ĚĚĽĚĚąĚȨ̲̟̯̤̪̌̊ÍĚŹĚT̸ĚÍ ÍÍÍ̢ĚĮ̧̺̥̺́̎̏aĚ´ÍĚĚĚŽĘ̌̎ÍÍḬ̯́Ě̲R̸ĚĚÍ̲̌ĚĚŽÍĮ́ĚÍĚşÍĚŞÍÍrĚśĚĚĚ˝ÍÍĚÍÍ ÍĚÍĚ˝ÍÍĚĚ̲̳ĚÍĘ̣̝̌A̡ĚÍĚĚĚĚĚťÍ̲ÍĚtĚľĚĚłĚ Í Í̺̊̚N̾̿ÍĚ Í ĚĚ ĚĚĚžĚ ÍĚĚÍĚÍÍÍÍ̤ÍĚŤĚÍĚŤĚÍĚG̡ÍĚĚÍÍĚĚąĚ̢ÍÍÍĚŞÍÍL̡ĚÍĚ ĚĚžÍĚĚžÍÍĚĚĚÍĚĚÍĚĚźĚĚ Ě˘ÍĚĚĚĚĚĚĚĽĚşĚEĚ´ĚĚĚžĚÍÍ ĚĚĚĚÍĚD̸ĚÍĚĚĚĚĚĮ̹́̚ , 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.
Rizzrack's darting eyes began to drift upwards, the bouncing trajectory of his pupils spinning about in his sockets as his neck began to slowly arch backwards. His breaths escaped from his throat in strained, airy grunts. This observed behavior was unexpected to Gerard, and it made him all the more curious.
A few more minutes and one passed out Small-Keen later, Gerard found himself tapping with his pencil against the desk in thought. Notes? Done, at least as far as needed and to a degree his was pleased with. Inspection? He was worried that prying any deeper would damage the subject's psyche in a more perminant way, and that would look bad upon him or any recomendations he might recieve. Did he care peticularly about Rizzrack? Nope.
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."
A lopsided smirk tugged at the man's lips, and he leant forward to rest his elbows upon the desk. "Indeed! I dare say it's something I have never felt before while conducting an investigation. Something is there, coating this Keen's mind in some way. Given just how fractured and fragile that very mind seems- perhaps it's even holding it all together. Either way, it's a forign power source not of his own making." Rolling his eyes, Gerard mockingly continued, "According to Rizzrack, this is something to do with his oh so amazing Ancient."
Elowenâs eyes narrowed. Part of her wanted to believe it was just manic ramblings from a crazy Keen. After all that would be the most obvious answer, wouldnât it? But if this keenâs mind wasnât tampered with by the Warden, then what else could it be? Like a riddle with a solution too obvious, Elowen was hesitant to accept either and move on. She needed to be thorough. She needed to be sure. SheâŚ.
Elowenâs finger tugged at the corner of her lip in thought as her eyes stopped scanning Gerardâs notes for a moment, attention grabbed by a spontaneous recollection of interesting details. Ancients, Nemesis stones, bonds⌠Although this Keen couldnât be reliable, the Wardenâs earlier reactions to this Keen were.
âWhile 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.â She read over Gerardâs 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 Rizzrackâs assertions than he would have liked her to know. Now thatâs another thing, if that man didnât 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. HmmâŚ.
âWith such an invaluable skill, youâre proving to be a valuable asset in my investigation.â An investigation thatâs quite a big deal to anyone in-the-know. âI see more than just a Recommendation for you in your futureâŚ.â
ââ
âHmhmm, now why would anyone ever need to protect themselves from-from trees of all things?â
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. âNow if youâd said âtree-ratsâ then Iâd have said âSure! I know Krimwohlâd be looking to buy!â But to fill my trains withâŚâ He held up the drawing with dramatic scrutiny, eyes squinting through his lenses. âLimbersaws? Itâs just not a very sound investment from where Iâm sitting.â
The one sat beside him leaned over for a closer look, petting his long white beard with interest. âWith 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.â
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 didnât 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 couldnât 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 couldnât 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.
âYoung man, weâve noticed you havenât visited with the Patent Office yet.â
âOh, I haveâI mean, I havenât because I didnât need to.â
âDidnât need to?â Chuckled one while packing his pipe so that he may contribute to the haze that already filled the room. âImagine not needing to secure the exclusive rights of yourâŚ.â
âThe rights arenât important to me. Whatâs important is that we prepare forâŚâ
The drawings in their hands were like a magnet that attracted their bearded heads closer in. They couldnât care less for the young Keenâs noble reasons.
âArenât you Skrichâs son?â
âNephew, actually-â His correction was met with a dismissive grunt.
âRight. All in my brotherâs fabrication guild have heard about you, your uncleâs hard working young apprentice. We were all worried for your well being. To see you here, it must mean your recovery has gone well.â The senior Keen leaned over the desk towards the young Keen, his thin smile piercing through the smokey fog. âYour 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, heâs got a great shop. Iâll make you an offer. Half base fee for these right here. â He waved the papers in hand, stirring up the haze with light turbulence. âAnd Iâll see whatâs willing to be made. Now youâll get no royalties, but if making it real is what matters most to you...â
His chest felt tight. The smoke in the room, it was making it hard to breathe⌠They still didnât take him seriously, did they? They didnât believe he was better, eitherâŚ
âY-yesâŚâ He croaked and tried to swallow down the knot in his throat. âI just want to give back to my community, to society for keeping me together.â He just needed to be sure they would be safeâŚ.Then everything can be normal againâŚ
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. âExcellent. Iâm sure there are more out there who can appreciate your work. Your confidence to stand before us is very telling of your potential.â
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 couldnât stop progress, but perhaps he could protect them from their march towards doom.
ââ
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.
His head lulled about as he took deep breaths and subdued his senses. That thing needed to learn its place, and that place was no longer here.
Tomorow was looking to be a very busy day. Another witness in this investigation, a key suspect and guilty party, was due to testify and be interviewed. Before that, she had a long stack of pages to read that the Silencer had handed in has his fully report on the matter. Then, after? Finding a way to go about convincing enough of the other Quorum that the Warden should be scanned for 'interference' from lingering Keen tech. (Or, that was the angle she would persue in her talks- be it accurate or not.) If that passed? The Silencer would be pulled aside for his appointment, and that would be a battle in of itself.
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. ***
âA willing participant in what was happening.â
âComplacent.ââActed in a self serving mannerâ
âWas accepting, and assisting, in the procedures taking place.â
âOnly objected when he found out their missionâs didnât actually align.â
The Silencerâs report had been much more damning against Rizzrack than Elowen had ever expected. For once, she softened her stance towards the delay in receiving Nortromâs written statement; Having read it, it made sense why he would need some time to collect his thoughts. Though, that still didnât 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 otherâs, as not being fooled into such deceptive practice.Â
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.
âKeep guards posted at all times, one inside and one out, of the room.â 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 Silencerâs 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.Â
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 wardenâs 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 wasnât the case did he turn against their plans. Prior? He was just as open to the experiment, and just as active, in itâs execution. Silencerâs report pretty much said so. Milgram said so.Â
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 itâs 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 âsecond passingâ, the Weepingrose equivalent of mid day.Â
Still no word from the Silencer.
Was he wanting to avoid recounting what happened that much? He should have received the same letter she did, that Milgram was awake and ready to speak; Offered to look over their reports of the event. In fact, despite his obvious attempts to not face this, Elowen knew they were going to need to meet face to face at some point- whether the Silencer liked it or not; Especially now that she had gotten approval to have him analyzed.
It wasn't that unusual for Gerard to keep active deep into his late hours. There was always work to be done, work to prepare for, work to find. To be well-rested was to be unaccomplished, but even now he was unusually restless. Ambitious desire burned in him, fueled by the exciting prospects that would make him stand out among his peers⌠The excitement made it impossible to sleep.
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 DepartmentâŚ
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?
â 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 everythingâŚ
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.
Rizzrackâs 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. âNo need to hover.â Gerard waved dismissively over his shoulder. âIâm 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 wordâŚ
Gerard glanced over at the small-keen huddled in the corner, smirking at the sight. He looked so much like a small, frightened animalâa sight he found all the more amusing knowing how keenfolk prided themselves on being above such things. âCome now, donât be like that. It isnât so bad.â 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. âWould it help if I placed you in these? Hmm? I think it would.â He hummed with mock compassion. âThen once youâre all snugged up, you can tell me all about that wonderful Ancient to your heart's content.â
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.
âYouâre going to make me suffer.â
Gerard scoffed at his warning. âIâm going to make you suffer?â He gripped the small frame by the elbows and turned to face him. âAny suffering you experience is entirely of your own making, a construction purely from within that jumbled little head of yours whichâsince you donât knowâis a space outside my scope of work.â
SufferingâŚentirely 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. âWouldnât want these to slip off now.â Although he liked a challenge, Gerard was pleased with the keenâs compliance so far. No wasted time meant he could jump right into business. Excellent.
âNow if you can stay like that, I wonât have to lay you prone.â
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 furtherâŚ
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 untilâŚ
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⌠âŚand 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 ReservoirâŚ
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 damâs 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 heâd 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 whisperedâand 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 onâŚ
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 didnât. Maybe she made a mistake. OrâŚ
âŚMaybe she didnât 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 couldnât be so horrible. There was nothing here worth giving up everything for. She knew that. He knew that.
She didnât 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.
âŚ.
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?
âŚ.
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 differentâshorter, their branches gnarled, their leaves too low to belong to the canopy above. Had they always been here? He couldnât 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 donât 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 didnât understand.
What just happened?
He didnât 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 effectâŚ" He said weakly.
His thoughts swirled and thudded around in his skull, coherence lost as they collided. He didnât know what to think. He didnât know where to start. He only knew one thing for certain.
He messed up.
And he couldnât let anyone know.












