The first thing it knew was emptiness. Beneath a paper thin shell, a gasping hungering emptiness pulled at it. Even when falling on rough dark planks, smashing foreign limbs against unyielding floor, all it could feel was the hollow were something should have been. Vision flickered next, coming to life in sputtering flickers before settling in place. New eyes revealed a dark claustrophobic room, filled with towering furniture. There, in the corner of it’s vision, was a huddled creature. The muffled sounds of sobbing washed over the room.

The creature stood, slowly. It had two posterior limbs, to a torso that held two fore limbs and the head. Even just uncurling, the body changed. The silvery sheen of it’s skin rippled, taking on a pale complexion. The image of little hairs formed on the surface. Tiny droplets of mercury dripped off, the viscera of its birth. Those droplets crystallized into tiny reflective shards, then shattered into dust where they hit the dark floor. It stumbled forward, towards the warm body.

The child in the corner shivered. Each motion betraying a vitality, a bone deep life that it needed. Bones and flesh, but more than that. Deeper than that. It stumbled forward, towards the small creature. They shared skin tone now, and its shoulders shrank so that the two of them were the same shape. The child turned, and saw it. Then he screamed, eyes wide with terror. He scrambled up, turning to race away. His shoulder crashed into an oak lectern, sending it tumbling to the floor.

It bolted to follow, vaulting over the lectern. Rough wood bit into its shell when it landed. Its skin cracked from the impact, but the pain was nothing in the face of the clawing emptiness. Ahead the child cleared a corner, around a large armoire. It pushed it’s foreign body harder, sharpening its toes to dig into the wood beneath. Yet when it raced around the corner, the child was nowhere to be seen. It paused, frantically looking around. The void burrowed into its shell, begging to be filled.

Sounds echoed out around it, between the looming furniture and detritus. The sound grew quiet, and distant. With that distance, the hollowing grew harsher. Something within was screaming. The only chance to quell this horrible sucking feeling was growing further away. Racing deeper into this room. Towards the far wall. It listened deeper, to the call of that soul. That precious soul. It had to have it. The voice of the world said it was the only way.

Through the maze, it ran. The pull grew stronger, more insistent. The sparse substance that formed it thinned. There hidden beneath a table, the prey was cowering. Stiff, reflective nails dug through the sturdy cloth covering the boy’s legs and dug into the pale skin. Blood spurted up the creature’s arms, each droplet of warm sanguine liquid soaking into the creature. The emptiness waned for the first time in its short existence and the sensation was a balm like no other.

Screams from the child broke it from its distraction. Scrambling feet and hands dragged the human further from it. It jerked back to motion, rushing forward on all fours. Its claws dug into the child’s thighs, digging deeply. Another squeal of pain, but more importantly, another rush of that filling sensation. It pulled on the leg, dragging the boy under it. Claws dug into muscle and bone, drawing more blood from the child.

It was not enough.

It needed more. With a raw frenzy, it dug into the child’s chest. Flaying flesh and cracking bone. Opening the ribcage and digging into the squishy organs underneath. It popped the lungs, minced the heart and gorged on the flesh. Each drop of viscera, of life freed from the child seeped into it, sinking into it’s shell, and turning hard glass into soft flesh. The heart of the child was torn free, and so too did a heart form in the breast of the creature.

The sounds quieted, until only the squelch of muscle and tendons being stripped from the corpse remained. Yet despite slaying the child, there was something still empty within it. It tore scalp from skull, and in desperation feasted on the brain. Yet more did the absence cry out. When the body was completely consumed, it turned to the clothing, what little that remained. Unlike the child, its body did not draw in the wool. Even when it pressed the wool against it’s now soft skin, the fabric just draped itself over instead of being pulled into it’s shell.

It was full of so much now, full of bones, muscles, skin and hairs. Yet it was still empty. It needed more, the void was already clawing from it’s core. Eating away at all the child had given it. Hollowing it of what life it had seized from the child. There had to be something more. Instinct pulled it’s attention inwards, towards the place where it could hear the world’s decrees. Something was there, lodged in the depths of its mind.

[Devour Soul]

Desperation tore open the package of something. Delved into a knotted mess of instinct and magic that loomed like a demented inheritance. Without truly understanding, it opened something akin to a maw, but not built of flesh. Some shadow swirled around it’s body as something more was drawn from the child. A final spark of life drifted through its body, fitting in the void like a key to a lock.

Sensation bloomed to life. Vision grew colours, sounds meaning and touch chill. Suddenly it was there, in its own body. It lived, air rushing inwards, through a mouth that was now more than mere decoration. What had once been a firm, hard shell had been fully replaced with soft human flesh. It didn’t know how it knew the flesh was specifically human, but that knowledge insisted upon itself.

It was. It didn’t know what to do with simply being. Without the ever driving void, it grew still. That deep connection, beneath it’s psyche and body, pulsed with a slow warmth. Now that it can consumed whatever that child had held- a soul, whispered that lodged package within its mind- the world itself no longer drew on it. The emptiness no longer carved out every spare millimetre it could reach. It just, lived.

That warmth, from deep within itself, grew louder. It whispered to him. The words were distant, bare echoes of what should be loud trumpets. The whispered stopped, then repeated. Louder now, but no more comprehensible. Again and again it grew louder. Like the waves against an ever distant shore. Insistent but never reaching their goal. Until something like a wall shattered and the sounds came rushing into its mind.

‘You have completed your Ascension Quest, [Seize a Soul]. You have gained the soul, [A Stolen, Formless Soul].’ The words were smug, proud and dismissive all at once. They lacked character, gender or even accent. They simply pressed up from the world, unbidden.

‘What?’ It thought. Then it realized it had formed a thought, which was a rather new experience.

The world perked up, pressing closer to its mind. The world noticed its attention. Meaning floated just beyond their joining. Answers to the many question, if it just knew the words to ask. If it even knew what it wanted to know. The knowledge from that package in its mind still settled in the back of its mind. The world pushed in, and gently corrected him. Suddenly, it knew that it had used a Skill.

‘Why do I have a skill for eating souls?’

‘You have the skills: [Devour Soul], [Shapestealer], and [Form of Reflections].’ The world whispered, and with each name the location of those bundles blared to life in its mind. It reached for them, but their meanings were muddled. Unclear and imprecise. They detailed what it could do, yet not why it would do any of it. Eating a soul had healed the emptiness, but the skill didn’t tell it why. Nothing told it why it existed, or even what it existed as.

“What am I?” It asked, aloud this time. Its voice was rough and sore, just as the child’s had been when it died.

‘You bear the following souls: [A Stolen, Formless Soul], [Crystal Spec], [None], [None].’ The world answered. ‘You are unnamed. You bear the following marks: [Mark of the Seventh Seal].’

It sat with that knowledge for a moment. Several moments passed further. Until distant sounds broke its concentration. Hard wood on wood, footsteps. From the distant corner of the room, the sounds of hinges opening. Some instinct blared to life, from [Shapestealer]. It had to wear the child’s clothing. His master would expect that. Even as it rushed to comply, there was a distant wail of pain in its mind. The child’s soul screamed. It ignored the sound.

“Tim, it’s been a day.” The voice said, firm but nonchalant. “I know this is an awful situation, but my patience has limits.”

“I’m here.” It said. [Shapestealer] showed it how to squeeze the soul it had taken for knowledge. A faint grip formed around the child’s soul and tore into it. It became Tim, a young farmhand who had inherited the mark and been sent here. Even just that much grew the screams to near deafening levels, loud enough that it could hear nothing else. “Am I in trouble master?”

“Master?” The voice said, much closer now. A tall man turned around a corner and stood tall over it. He wore plain slacks and a dark red shirt, but just like the child, there was a pattern of deep black marks across his skin. His face had thin eyebrows, lightly weathered skin and a smattering of freckles. “You can just use my name you know.”

It stayed silent, looking up at the older human with as close as a guileless expression as it could manage. Tim’s pain was too loud to pry any more information from him. “… But, you’re you…” It muttered.

“I’m just a warden,” the elder man said. He knelt down beside the Reflection. He paused, and sniffed the air. “Did you cut yourself on something?”

“Um,” Panic rushed down its spine.

“Hey, hey, relax.” He made a gentle soothing motion with both hands, hesitating before patting its shoulder. “I don’t want to make this any harder for you kid.”

“Could you let me go?” It asked, hoping against hope that it wasn’t too suspicious.

“Tim, you know I can’t do that.” He peered closer at its ripped pants. “What did you cut yourself on? There are some dangerous things in here.”

“Just, just some wood. I’m fine.” It forced out in a rush. The warden’s hands found the edge of damage on the pants, and the faint hit of red on them. A small spark of red light fell from the edge of his nail onto the creature’s limb. A wash of something passed over its body and eased the few pains it had.

“Okay, but you know it’s okay even if you aren’t fine right?” The man reached out and offered a hand. “Now lets get you up and fed. Being sworn in will finish your ascension, and it’s awful to go through on an empty stomach.”

It took a hold of the man’s hand, and was gently pulled up to stand beside him. Standing beside him, it realized that either the child had been particularly tall, or that this man was shockingly short. The man led it by the hand through a series of turns. On the way, the two of them passed a large ornate mirror. The mirror was askew, and facing the floor. As if something heavy had been attached to it and pulled it to face the ground. Then they were past, and out an ornate door.

On the other side, there was a landing attached to a large staircase spiralling the outside wall of a large antechamber. There were another two sets of landing towards the bottom, and three reaching further up. At the apex, the staircase continued into the ceiling. Looking at the ceiling, it had faintly glowing lines sketched into it, forming a large geometric pattern that felt familiar in a rather alien way. Like looking upon a sibling for the first time perhaps.

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“I know it’s eye catching. You’ll get used to it.” The man said, gently pulling it up the staircase. “Now come on, I’ve laid out food in the seal chamber. Now I’m not really mad, but I was expecting you to show up there.” The man’s stern eyes turned back at the creature. “I won’t make it harder on you, but I ask that you don’t make it harder on me, yeah?”

“Y-yes,” It said, turning its face away and hunching its shoulders. Anything to make it look smaller.

“Glad to hear it.” His voice was softer now, quieter. “Now we’ll grab you something light, then go through with the ceremony. Did your parents ever teach you the Wisdom?”

“N-no?” It said.

“Fun, are you at least literate?” The man said, gnawing on his bottom lip.

“I can read,” It said, realizing the truth of the words only after having said it. For some reason, it knew the letters of the world, and could interpret them.

“At least they taught that much…” The man muttered. “What slots do you have filled?”

“Um?”

The man sighed. “What souls do you have? Other than your formless one, that leaves one or two you’ve probably picked up inadvertently.”

“Uh,” It hesitated. the man’s posture grew rigid, so it just blurted out the truth, “A crystal one sir.”

“Hm, which kind of crystal soul? Shard, spirit, fragment or what?” The man asked. By this point they had climbed all the way to the apex of the staircase and were climbing through the ceiling.

“A spec, a Crystal Spec,” it said. As the words escape its mouth, it knew it made a misstep. Tim didn’t have a Crystal Spec. It wasn’t sure what souls Tim had, but the Crystal Spec belonged to itself. Something from its nature.

They rose into a large circular chamber, with a massive silver construct hovering only a few metres off the ground and spanning the entire room. The swirls and jagged corners of the pattern echoed the ones inscribed on the ceiling of the room bellow. “A spec isn’t amazing, but at least you have your third slot available. That will make things a bit easy for you at the start.”

The far edge of the room had a small table set up with a small bowl of fruits and long blue leaves. Alongside the walls beside it were large bookcases, which had a set of large cabinets on the left side and what looked like a set of tall glass cylinders on the right. The warden gestured at the table and walked to the cabinets. The creature went to the table and took one of the fruits and tried a bite.

The fruit was tart, and sweet. A pleasant enough taste, though the texture was unpleasantly squishy and wet. It swallowed. The fruit sat heavy in its stomach. That weight leached into the rest of its body, radiating out. It leached into its bones, filling in holes it hadn’t even noticed. It grabbed another bite, and another after that one. Each mouthful of fruit made its body feel more tangible and complete.

“For what it’s worth kid, I am sorry you have to go through this.” The man said, out of nowhere. “Inheriting the mark is a burden, and few get one as young as you are.”

“But you wont let me go?” It said, turning to face the warden. He had a grim look to his face, of a man resigned to the best of two evils. A faint sensation of unease boiled at the base of its spine. Tim’s wailing in the back of it’s mind quieted, for a heartbeat. Long enough to rip the knowledge that Tim would go through with this. Which caused his soul to quiver and cry out in pain.

“I wont, no.” He turned to walk towards the centre of the room, a red candle in hand. “Now come over here. The sooner this is done, the sooner we can move on.”

It walked forward, on leaden feet. The person it became would do this. Tim would walk up with quiet bravery and endure this. Before long, it stood before the warden, looking slightly up to see his eyes. The warden looked sad, in this moment. No, more then merely sad, the warden looked exhausted. With some wordless flicker of attention, a spark of red light bloomed to life in the centre of the silver seal overhead and fell on the candle. It bloomed to life, casting a sanguine light across the bottom of the warden’s face.

“In the ways of our founders, I, Warden Sionn of the Seventh Seal, have come to draw upon their might.” Sionn said, each word causing the candle to glow brighter. The light caught on the silver overhead, causing it to reflect a complex mosaic of lines across the room. Each glowed with a light of their own, pulling from somewhere else. With each syllable, the reflections grew brighter. Their lights shifted to a deep purple, and the marks covering the warden’s body glowed in solidarity. A deep blue, dark and faint. As if from deep beneath his skin, beneath bone, from somewhere far deeper.

“The mark of warden has passed. May the soul of they who fell pass on, and their mantle take root.” The warden looked it in the eyes. “Do you, Tim, choose to live with this burden?”

It stood silently. The moment hung.

“I choose to live.” It said. Everything else, it decided, could come later.

Sionn frowned, but not at it. As though he frowned at himself. “Then let it be so. Let those marks of power pass from dead to the living.”

A snap echoed, not in space, but within the two of them. Something hot and furious struck it in the root of its mind. Deep, angry red lashes binding something massive to the knots and twirls of its soul. The ground hit its face hard, sending stars flashing beneath its eyelids. Power, foreign and brutal flashed down its limbs, before settling into the space between its bones. Simmering with untold strength.

“Just keep breathing Tim. It will pass.” Sionn’s words were distant, just on the edge of its hearing.

‘Congratulations, you’ve completed an Ascension Quest, [Serve the Seal]. You have gained the soul, [Servant of the Seal].’ The world cooed in its ears. With that final proclamation, the heat cooled around its soul. The red hot power chilled until it was chained into a glimmering potential.

It blinked its eyes open. The floor beneath it had a puddle of blood, from where its nose had broken. Sionn was kneeling beside it, one hand on its back. The blue light of the seal lingered, even with the candle extinguished. The pale blue lined the walls, and lined its body. It could feel the seal, it realized. It was a massive thing, spanning a distance it could not comprehend. Here, in this room, only the barest hint of the seal pressed against them. It pressed against his body, and seemingly pulled back the moment he consciously felt it. The lights around the room dimmed first, the lights deep with its and Sionn’s skin lingering for moments more.

“There we go Tim. It’s over and sealed now.” Sionn said. “Now I’m going to help you sit up, but I don’t think you should stand yet.” Like Sionn said, his firm hands grabbed its shoulders and slowly lifted it into a sitting posture. “There we go. Now that nose looks a mite sore, let me get something for that.”

Sionn stood up, and walked to the line of glass cylinders on the wall. Leaving it alone for a moment. Its mind was reeling, and even breathing deeply did little to remove that constant awareness of something pressing against it. It must have spaced out, because next thing it knew, Sionn was in front of it again, pressing a small dab of orange gel to its nose.

“There we go. That should get your nose right as rain in no time.” Sionn smiled weakly.

“W-what,” Its voice cracked, crackling like glass across the knee. “What was that?”

“It is the greatest work of magic,” Sionn said. “You’ve been joined to the seventh seal, and all the seals before. Try not to focus on it, let yourself have time to adjust.”

“I can still feel it.” It said, voice slightly hollow.

“You will always feel it.” Sionn said. “That’s the point. We couldn’t hardly maintain the seal if we didn’t know about it.”

“Is it always so… painful?” It asked, shivering despite it self.

“Pretty much. It gets better or worse at times, but power can’t be ignored.” Sionn patted its shoulder. “You’ll get used to it. Some wardens grow to find it comfortable, like the embrace of a lover.”

“So what now?” It asked. “Can I just go home?”

“No, you can’t.” Sionn said, “Not until you advance your warden soul a few times. Your apprenticeship will have to continue. If you’re lucky, whatever your crystal spec ascends to will give you something useful. That would let you skip a few lessons.”

“How do I do that?” It asked.

“Same way you learn anything, time and effort.” Sionn shrugged. “But that’s a concern for next week, if not later. Try not to rush, its a lot of work even when it’s paced out. No need to get overwhelmed on day one.”

“So what now? Like today?” It tried. “Do I have to do something?”

“Are you serious kid? Not even Alena would force a new trainee to work the day of their first ascension. You have the day to do whatever you want. Steal a few books from my collection, go out into town or eat some snacks, whatever. I left some money in your room, so go nuts.” Sionn said. “Did… did you even go to your room yesterday?”

“I, uh, got lost...” It lied, injecting a softness into its cadence.

“Your room is on the ground floor. The door has some flowers carved into it.” Sionn said. His hand was massaging his brow. “Kitchen is across the way, the door with the campfire carved into it. Get going, I’ll clean this up and do my normal duties.”

It nodded, and slowly levered itself up to its feet. It went down the stairs, and soon found the door Sionn had mentioned. It opened up to a small room with a curved back wall, with a door on the left wall. It had a desk with chair, a small bed, a wardrobe and a small leather bag hanging off the front corner of the wardrobe. It grabbed the bag then plopped itself down on the bed.

That had been a lot. It was starting to question if Tim was a sane person, if this was the kind of experience he would choose to go through. It just breathed with the lungs it hadn’t been born with. The ceiling above it was made of dark wood, with bold swirls in its grain. The creature stared up at it, letting itself relax into the slightly soft bed beneath it. It had been maybe a few hours since it had been born, and it really savoured the moment to just process everything.

It reached out for its connection to the world, and tried to pull information from it again. The information tried to whisper, but it pulled harder. All at once, all the world’s details about it came to mind. Rushed, yet just slow enough to be comprehensible.

Name –

Species – Baleful Reflection

Souls

⠀[Servant of the Seal]

⠀[Stolen, Formless Soul]

⠀[Crystal Spec]

⠀[None]

Marks – Mark of the Seventh Seal

Skills

⠀Species

⠀⠀[Devour Soul]

⠀⠀[Shapestealer]

⠀⠀[Form of Reflections]

⠀Souls

⠀⠀[Kindle the Seal]

There was more details then before, and it didn’t know why. Whether it was a result of gaining its new soul or simply asking more firmly, the world had put a name to its species. ‘Baleful Reflection’ wasn’t the most ringing of descriptions, but at least there was a word for it. That was more then it had for itself. Which was distressing to realize. It had a moment to think about it, but none of the ideas it could think of were appealing.

It certainly didn’t want to call itself Tim, he sounded like a weird masochist. That similarly forbid any name derived from it as well. Sionn was a person it had met, and it would feel weird to just take his name. Not while Sionn still lived at least. Any of the nouns it knew felt weird as a name. It could call itself something like ‘door’, or ‘apple’, but those felt mildly sick.

No, a good idea for a name wouldn’t come from nowhere. It sat up, and opened the satchel Sionn had left for it. There were three pockets inside it, two containing piles of coins, while the third had a key ring with a key on it. It took out the coins, and counted them out. There were two dozen small bronze squares, and five silver coins. One of the silver coins was twice as large as the others, which meant it was worth more, probably.

The reflection swept the coins back into it’s bag and stood up. It was moments from leaving when it remembered that it’s pants were ragged at the bottom. Within the wardrobe it found a collection of identical black slacks and plain blue cotton shirts. Changing into clothing that hadn’t been torn apart went quickly, then it left the door to the centre antechamber.

It took a moment to find the right door to go outside, it was the one carved with what looked like an anvil, or perhaps a house. Opening the door revealed a bright sky, hanging over a large town at the bottom of a valley beside a small lake. The reflection stepped out onto a small stone balcony, taking in the wide view. The warden, and apparently it now, lived in a several story tall tower a fair distance from the town, up the valley wall.

It stood on the stone balcony in front of the tower. Beneath the rows of two and three story buildings formed a chaotic patchwork web, connected by hewn stone blocks set into the ground. These paving stones grew dirty and off colour in some snarls of the town, and a brilliant white on the main roads that led to a large clearing. The plaza had a road around a large circular gap. Within that paved outline, a bold pattern of blue lines shone in the light. Looking upon it, it could feel the pattern within it rotating until it matched this corner of the seal.

Just like the paving stones changed across the large town, so did the people. Those in the darkest corners of the city wore bland browns and greys, and walked with near tangible tension. Even from this distance, it was at odds with the proud strides and heavy clothing worn by those who marched through the richer districts. The subtle changes practically screamed what they expected to see, at least to its ears.

Whichever name it took, it should have meaning. It considered the city before it. Which places here would have the inspiration it was looking for. Did the caution and paranoia of the poorer neighbourhoods speak to it, or did the pride and boldness of the rich? It turned, to the side where an austere staircase had been carved into the valley wall. Truthfully, neither extreme spoke to it. Instead, something more temperate would suit its mood.