Two tipped the glass vile up. Sour exploded across her tongue, joined by a deep bitter tone. The flavour didn’t stay idle for long. Novel expressions of assaulted her senses as she held the liquid in her mouth. From the poignant wrong of something sweet gone rotten. To the gentler yet no less pleasant taste of dirt. It writhed like a living thing, scraping her mind for evermore wretched abuses of scent and flavour.

Her stomach roiled with rejection. Forcing her to spend dragging seconds with the solution in her mouth. As she fought the need to retch.

After a time she swallowed. For a moment she felt clean again. Then like a nail driven deep into her chest. Envy and jealousy exploded in her. Leaving her reading and clutching her chest between gasping breaths.

Her mind fell into itself. Why? Tears swelled in her eyes. Beaten back through force of will and spite alone. Why was she on the edge of tears for something others could claim as a birthright?

What did they do to deserve what she struggled for? Nothing. The answer wet her eyes until only rapid blinks could stop the fat drops fall falling. She’d given all she had for the chance! To slip into mundanity.

She clutched the amulet beneath her clothes. Her gaze darted about the empty room. Paranoia and frustration surged fed by jealousy. Like thorned vines curled around the little shad. The amulet and its promise.

She clutched it tighter until she ached. Her arm her back her fingers. All straining to push the thing deeper. Somewhere no one could take it from.

But that couldn’t work, because with born of luck and birth. They could take other things. Her hands, her choice, her life. They’d already begun.

She reached for her face. Clenched digits ready to tear and rip at skin and hair. The remnants of her sensibility forced them down. Where they dug into her thighs painfully. She would scream but emotion had choked her voice.

Everything was so fragile. Free to be broken and taken by those who had so much. She couldn’t she refused to let be. Where all that stood between her and the gaping maw of nothing, was another’s conviction she had nothing worth taking.

She’d claw, steal and twist herself into whatever she needed to see it done. She’d climb and climb until there was nowhere left. Then she’d take Daisy and Terry. Igni and this house and none would dare to rake any of hers.

The thought bloomed in her mind. A single mote of radiance in turbulence. She clung to it, no matter how wretched the light or the waters that birthed it. Until the churning tides calmed and she could think again.

She released a shuddering breath. Slowly the tides receded. Two fell with them. It was good she was already on the floor. A single piece of good advice from her teacher.

She dropped the latest vial with the others and rolled onto her back. Groggily she took her notebook notebook. Recording the varied emotions in detail. Jotting the thoughts in broad strokes.

Night had fallen, however long ago. She’d been too busy having various fits to notice. She stared at her observations. Taste, smell, thoughts and ‘feeling’. Where engraved in the pages. To the greatest of her tired mind’s capabilities.

She dropped the book, and returned her gaze to the ceiling and her mind to its usual wandering. She was so tired.

Her thoughts were laden with lead. Directed thought seemed an impossibility, her body ached. Through all she’d done today was sit or more recently lie down, and her Heart. Her heart was wrung dry.

All she could feel was tired. The darkness between blinks called like an angel. Promising warm feathers and comfort. Where that failed it offered, a dreamless thoughtless slumber.

Yet she dragged herself seated and reached for the next vial. Squeezing the last drops from her tired vessel.

She stared at the clear liquid in the vile. The source of her suffering, the fertilizer that would fuel her growth. While churning yet more filth from the forgotten recess of her heart. She still struggled to believe it had been made from her.

Distilled aura that wilted rose called it. A substance for infants and wastrels to gain self-awareness. A blunt tool only of use due to Two’s sensitivity to essence. A talent that while rare was apparently not unique.

She’d learned that if it weren’t for the taint. That talent alone would’ve been enough to pull from the slums. A chuckle rose in her chest, but she lacked the energy for it. If, but, maybe. She pushed the thought away. Retreading them would solve nothing

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The point of these exercises was to familiarize herself, with her own scent. So she could navigate the labyrinth and find the emotion she would cultivate.

She sighed and lowered the vial. What would she cultivate? What would she become? She glanced bleary eyed the other vials. Her gaze found the recently used vial. A shudder struck her through the haze.

The sheer unfettered want, the fear of loss, anger at the rank unfairness. She hadn’t believed she had it in her. Thought disappointment had beaten it out of her. Yet those feelings, those thoughts they had been hers. They were hers. She could feel a twinge in her stomach.

She imagined herself if those feelings became her core. To have and not let go. It terrified her, because, in a way, they were already there. The vials were her own feelings, strengthened and distilled until she couldn’t suppress them. Pulling to light all that hid.

It came easily, all the vial had done was tug at the right strings. Then that desire, that raw possessive need. Had become her. She sighed raggedly shoving away the resurgence, and even worse.

She stared at the vial, neatly labeled lowliness. Her eyes misted she turned away. Some things came beyond easily, they were natural.

She sighed and lifted the vial. It was the last. Spice bit her tongue a bitter note followed.

***

Two stared at the labeled vials arrayed on the table before her. Her bleary eyes strained and fell to her hands laid on the table. Idly she flexed her fingers. Gaze idly roaming her unbroken dark skin. She flexed her right hand.

“Long night,” she dragged her head towards the snide remark. She blinked slowly at Rhevier. The dreary man was once again lounging on his chair.

“I’m fine.”

Amusement stirred beneath his stale floral scent. “This is precisely why I recommended you do the testing and select your essence today. But you had to rush.” He shook his head as if he witnessed some great shame. “Don’t curse me when you die. I don’t it would accomplish anything but there’s no point extra dirt on my wasted time.”

She closed her eyes, blissful for the reprieve from his very punchable face. This was precisely why she’d done it alone. It spared her this vitriol and judgment. She didn’t want to taste his disdain when everything was breaking down. She’d rather collapse in peace.

Her eyes opened. She straightened her back. Set her shoulders like a diligent attendant and smiled. Opened her tired eyes wide and alert. She tilted her voice just so. “Thank you for your concern teacher, but I’m fine.”

He scoffed, the fiction was clear, that was fine. It’d get him on point. ”Sure.” He drawled. “Have you selected an essence or will we have to test more?” He pointed at the metal contraption on his desk.

It had a large tank held above the item’s metal base. Tubes fed from it into a large natal box. A funnel with a fan seated at its center also fed a tube into the box. A spigot protruded from the container. Runes litter the contraption.

She’d found it ridiculous yesterday. Until the fan started and the device dragged her emotions out to fill a vial. She suppressed a shudder.

“No need Teacher I’ve made my choice, but I’d like to ask a question first.”

He squinted at her, not bothering to wave her on.

She swept her gaze over the empty vials.“Why are the essences we’ve tested all negative.” She kept her voice light, free of suspicion.

Melancholy, loneliness, despair envy and anger the labels read. Yet there was more to it than that. She’d written pages, pages on the ‘nuances ‘ beneath the dominant essence. She’s gained an intimate appreciation of the differences between jealousy and envy. There was little light hiding in the varied dark.

“Because you are not a positive person.” There was no derision in his stale floral scent. Not a hint of schadenfreude only bored focus. Like he was giving another lecture.

She lowered her hackles and thought. “Cultivation is spiritual surgery, what kind of person I am should be as malleable as anything else. I don’t see why who I am now matters.”

He smiled, “True, though there are many complications you don’t appreciate. A few of which render your idea infeasible. Your taint being the main one.”

She… wasn’t surprised, still it struck her like a blow to the face. She closed her eyes, she couldn’t trust them not to betray her.

“Taint comes in many forms and while I can’t tell which specific essence haunts you. It is a negative one. it will grow as you do. If you want any hope of dealing with it you will need a high realm. If it conflicts with your core essence, you will stagnate before reaching there.” He nodded to himself. “In short given your taint and generally miserable disposition you must cultivate a negative or neutral essence.”

She mulled his words in silence. He’d confirmed if only in a backhanded manner that she she could manage her taint. Though he didn’t say remove. She dropped the thought before it could drag her down. Another came to weigh on her.

“What precisely is the difference between taint and cultivated essence? Both affect how one feels. They can grow with time. Why is one an asset and the other a curse.” She let gloom into her voice.

Rhevier’s eyes brightened, intellectual delight freshened his stale scent. she braced for the next lecture. “You’ve stumbled upon an important distinction. Cultivated and tainted essence. So the question is what makes something tainted.”

A connection stirred in her mind. “Tainted essence spreads by itself, and it does so by replacing other emotions. It’s like a poison killing and corrupting the heart.” She smiled, joy and relief however faint swelled in her tired heart. Poisons could be cured.

“Cancer,”

Her smile withered.

“It is closer to a cancer, though poison is involved.“ He continued untethered by Two’s stare. “Perhaps if it had been caught earlier we could remove it. But presently even I can’t tell the difference between your normal and tainted essences.”

He leaned forward, folding his arms on the desk. She sat frozen in place. The roar of thoughts silenced her mind.

“Now what essence or essences do you select.” He returned to his blithe tone. Any passion died as he fell from the theoretical heights. To the practicalities of Two.

Numbly she replied. Her tone was smoothed by habit. Remained calm and pleasant. “Loneliness.”