#errant chronicles

The first few moments are the ones I remember the most; I remember it all so clearly that it’s impossible for me to forget, even if I wanted to. It was like… It was like waking up from a deep, dreamless sleep, knowing you had somewhere to be - knowing you had something to do.

I remember opening my eyes for the first time. I felt tired, groggy, stiff - the way most people feel when they’ve slept in the completely wrong position the whole night. I remember standing in what felt like a small, dark room, but vast and empty at the same time. I couldn’t really tell you much else about it. Except for the mirror. A strange, cloudy pane of glass hovering just above the ground, its surface glowing and rippling like water, but not reflecting anything.

I remember hearing voices coming from the other side, but I don’t remember what was said - it was too muffled and too far away for me to understand. I remember feeling compelled to touch the mirror. Under normal circumstances, that’d probably be utterly suicidal, but at the time it felt completely reasonable. I remember placing my hand against the mirror, feeling the solid surface give way, and then stepping through. For a split second, my surroundings disappeared and it felt like I was falling, but the ground reappeared beneath my feet before I could.

And then suddenly I was somewhere else.

It was still a dark room, but it was definitely different from where I was before. There were other people there, standing nearby at the base of the stone platform that housed the mirror I had just stepped out of. I’m still not sure how I knew, but I knew they were the arrogant mage-types just from the way they carried themselves and the sensation of magic in the air. I’ll never forget the smug looks on their faces as they congratulated themselves on successfully completing whatever ritual had summoned me. It didn’t bother me at the time; I was too zoned out to really care.

Aside from the obvious nausea from being summoned from…wherever the hell I was before, it was a strange feeling. I knew what I was the moment I stepped through the mirror. I knew what created me, but I had no idea who I was and had no memories of anything before that dark room. I was created with knowledge of the world, but no idea of where that knowledge came from. It’s weird - being born knowing everything you need to know, and knowing that you didn’t exist only a few seconds before.

While the mages were busy inflating their own egos, I caught a glimpse of myself in the thing I had emerged from. It surprised me how normal I looked: a tall Human male with short, dark hair and icy blue eyes, lean build, smartly dressed, and somewhat handsome. I could’ve passed as someone ordinary.

But I wasn’t ordinary; I knew what I was. I knew what I was and I hated it. I was a Reflection - a clone; a copy of someone who already existed, but I didn’t know who.

Minor self-loathing aside, I knew I was created for a purpose, so I waited for the mages to quit chattering at each other and tell me what that purpose was. If I knew back then what I know now, maybe I’d have saved myself a lot of misery if I had just killed them right then and there. Gotta love the obedience of newly-created magical constructs.

After about a minute, a mage in a white lab coat approached me with a clipboard in hand. They gave me the once-over, circling me like a shark as they scrutinized my appearance. It was as awkward and uncomfortable as you’d think. Who likes being looked at under a microscope like that? When they stopped in front of me again, they stared at my face and squinted for an uncomfortably long time.

“Hey, do we still have that reference photo lying around?” they said.

Not exactly what you want to hear when you haven't even been alive for ten minutes.

I remember watching them wave over one of their colleagues, who brought over a tablet displaying something I couldn’t see. They held it up and compared me to whatever was on it, glancing between me and it over and over again. The way their expressions shifted as they looked at each other wasn’t a good sign.

“Any physical imperfections can be easily altered,” one of them said.

The other one nodded. “You’re right. As long as everything else is fine, it wouldn’t take much to change its physical appearance. I’m sure they’ve got stuff for that lying around somewhere.”

‘It’. I hated the way they said that word. It wasn’t a great first impression. It irritated me - them talking about me like I wasn’t standing right there in front of them. It was pretty clear that I wasn’t a person to them. I was just a construct - a thing. But I stood there and took it. That’s what constructs are supposed to do, isn’t it?

They started asking me questions. Basic stuff, really. Geography, history, politics, mathematics, religion - the kind of stuff you’d normally be taught in school or otherwise learn through experience. Whatever they asked, I was able to answer. How did I know all this? The fuck if I know. I didn’t really question it.

Then the questions started getting really personal.

“What are your parents’ names?”

My mind drew a blank. “I don’t know.”

“Where did you go to school?”

Another blank. “...I don’t know.”

“How many siblings do you have?”

“I… I don't know.”

They asked me more personal things. Every question was answered with an, “I don’t know.” It bothered me back then, realizing just how much of a blank slate I was. No history, no memories - not even much of a personality to speak of. They never asked me if I knew what my name was supposed to be. I don’t think they cared.

I’ll never forget how their faces looked at that moment - how they shifted from disappointment to disgust. But that’s not what stuck with me. It’s what they said afterward.

“It looks like this specimen is defective. It doesn’t seem to have any memories of the original whatsoever.”

“Ah, shit. What do we do? Those reagents were hard to get and we don’t have any more samples to work from. They’re going to have our heads! They can’t do anything with an imperfect copy!”

“I don’t know! We’ll send up the report and see what they want to do. Until then, we can just send it to containment.”

I let the comments slide the first time because being a new construct, obedience was almost hard-wired into me, but that wore off pretty quickly the longer I stood there listening to them talk.

“I’m standing right here, y’know,” I mumbled, hoping to get their attention. It did, but not in the way I’d hoped.

Both mages glared at me like I’d done something offensive. “Yes, we’re aware. We’re not speaking to you.”

I may not have been summoned with much of a personality at first, but I developed one quickly; maybe some shred of my original got passed onto me - I don’t know. But the response pissed me off. I still remember how enraged I got at hearing the tone they continued to take with me. The sheer disrespect. “I don’t care. If you’re gonna talk about me, at least do it somewhere else. If you’re gonna talk in front of me, don’t talk about me like I'm your school science project.”

They continued taunting me.

"We're not talking to you."

"Hah! And you might as well be a science project. Unless you want your life to be a short one, shut up and do what you're told."

That set me off; it was clear that I wasn’t going to be getting any respect. When people feel rage, they say it feels hot - burning, smoldering. Not mine. My rage was ice cold.

And I was going to make sure they felt it when I wiped the smug look off their faces.

“I’m not taking orders from you.” My words were as frigid as the magical energy that coursed through me. It felt so natural to wield.

They didn’t notice the temperature drop or the way the frost started forming on nearby surfaces. By the time they realized what was going on, it was too late. A quick incantation, a wave of a hand, a flash of cold blue light. Splashes of crimson spattered against the walls and floor as spears of ice burst through their chests amidst the screams and horrified expressions of the other mages and scientists in the room.

The lifeless bodies hit the floor, ripped to pieces and half-frozen. I glared at the remaining researchers, daring them to say or do something to challenge me. “Anyone else feel like talking down to me?”

No one spoke. They’d knowingly created a monster and had the arrogance to believe they could abuse it like some child’s toy. Now they knew their ‘toy’ wasn’t so harmless; they knew their place.

“Good. Now, run along.”

They couldn’t scurry out the door fast enough.

I was left alone in the cold, dark room, staring at the corpsicles I’d made. A normal person might have been horrified by what they’d done - felt some kind of remorse. I didn’t. The icy rage faded, but I'd always remember it.

As I tried to wipe the blood off me, I heard a voice over the P. A. system that sounded both impressed and amused.

“Well, you’re certainly no weakling," they said. "They call you a failure and yet you’re still able to do all that? Impressive.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t appreciate the patronizing tone either. Probably just more asshole mages and scientists like the ones that lay dead at my feet.

“Even though you've only just been born, you’ve got potential. We could use someone like you. What do you say? You wouldn’t be locked up in a cage.”

I knew saying ‘yes’ was a bad idea, but I knew I didn’t have much of a choice. Despite the little display I put on, I’d only been alive for maybe twenty minutes, and I’d already spent what little energy I had. There was nowhere to run. For all I knew, they could've had security forces ready to barge in and gun me down. If I refused to cooperate, they could end my existence just as easily as they created it. If it meant surviving a little longer, maybe a little obedience wouldn't hurt. At least for now.

Aaaaa. Say hello to one of the main characters from my Errant Chronicles works! Gavin is one of my oldest characters and one of my favorites, so he's very near and dear to my heart. I drew this artwork a while ago, so I probably need to draw some newer stuff of him in addition to making a proper reference sheet. It's on my to-do list. >_>

He's a young aspiring knight that's, uh... Let's just say he's been through a lot in a very short length of time. Without spoiling too much from Thousand Year Curse, all I can say is that he sacrificed a lot in order to save a friend, and that sacrifice had both great benefits, but also serious consequences.