“How many fingers are you holding up?”

“Two.”

“Are you sure?”

He used one hand to count the fingers of the other.

“Yes, two.”

She sighed, exasperated and no closer to the truth.

Marigold tested and tested and tested, then sought the wisdom of Aarde and Gaia, then she even asked Titania, yet there was no answer to what was standing in front of her.

Fomoria wasn’t a mind, he wasn’t a soul, he wasn’t even mana.

He was… nothing.

She could record the mana around him, and nothing at all would seem strange, no matter how close she was. But the instant she moved any instrument or spell inside of him, all readings turned to zero.

To every sense behind sight and sound, Fomoria didn’t exist.

It wouldn’t even be right to call him a ghost, since they were masses of mana that could be detected.

Times like these made her wish for Xol and… she banished the thought; that traitor wasn’t good for anything but target practice.

She put a mana gem inside of a glass box on a table.

“The mark. I want to run a test on it again. Touch the gem, leave your mark on it for just a short time, but don’t leave the mark on the glass at all. Can you do that?”

“I think.”

She had done the same experiment three times, yet he had done it each without issue.

The gem turned black in his grasp, filled with mana, then returned to its normal colors.

The point wasn’t to see if he could reach through, but so she could see how the gem was being charged.

There was no clear mana displacement, and he gave off no mana himself.

The mark just seemed to create mana based on its surroundings and then put it into whatever could be charged, but never to unsafe levels; She chose to believe that it was Fomoria’s gentle nature shining through in his new abilities.

“Now, why don’t we change the gem.”

Same experiment, but a blood gem instead of a mana gem.

“You want to know if my ability affects biological targets differently than inorganic materials.

It makes sense. The butterfly from before began to sprout new wings and grow in size almost instantly, yet touching Amber’s armor had no transformative effects. Perhaps my powers relate to dark magic, and I’ve trapped my marked ones in a state of evolution, yet also without chronological confinement.”

“What colors are on a tiger?”

He returned to his… to be blunt, stupid state, cocked his head to the side, and thought.

“Orange… black… and white.”

“Very good. Now, touch the gem.”

When he touched it, the blood gem turned black and started to grow, but only did so after it had its fill of mana.

“Interesting.”

She held it in her hand, all tests showed that his mark wouldn’t rub off on anything, nor could its effects be transposed to something else.

It wasn’t smart, but it also refused to go outside the bounds of whatever its power was originally granted.

Perhaps it came from his desire to never have his work abused again, but she understood nothing about his powers yet.

“I’m going to step away for a little bit, please don’t wander off. And if you get lost, just come back to the garden in Kor, I will find you.”

“Alright.”

Sepul was finally called in with the hopes that their generally positive relationship would be a benefit to Fomoria’s mental state. That, and Sepul had been spying on Fomoria for years, and would certainly know details about his life that could help reconstruct his memories.

“May I see him now?”

“Just be mindful. Don’t talk about anything that is going to upset him.”

“The boy can handle-”

Marigold pushed him back before he could step outside.

“You need to understand something, that might be Fomoria, but he isn’t what we remember.

I can start an experiment and in an instant he’s back to normal, postulating on what exactly I’m doing and offering his own theories. But if I start asking about math or economics or many other simple questions that I know he knows, he reverts back to being childlike, hardly able to answer. If he hears something that connects with a bad memory he can freeze up or turn violent, then a good memory has him back to a docile shadow like nothing happened at all. He’s not all there, just be careful.”

“I’m not some stupid-”

Sepul suddenly stopped.

“It’s harder to condescend to someone five times your age, isn’t it?”

“Quiet.”

She allowed him past her.

Fomoria was touching moths and watching the way they reacted.

“I can feel a sort of pull in whatever animals I touch. It’s not the same as the Dague. They seemed to-”

“Hello, grandson.”

His stance loosened.

“Grandpa! It’s been so long. I think. What’s your name?”

“Remember when you were 11 and a werewolf attacked you? You were reading the book your now dead uncle, Redmond, gave you.”

Marigold pulled Sepul away.

“Yes. I remember.”

Fomoria’s form let off no more fire. Each muscle could be seen, and his shadows formed his old coat to cover himself. Yet his face refused to change.

“I wanted to keep reading, so I snuck out of my room to use the moonlight. It wasn’t the first time I did it, wouldn’t be the last. Redmond, he… I’m certain he must’ve blamed himself for giving me the book.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

Sepul, it’s been six months. How is Elise?”

“She’s doing very well, and her time with Rosen has showed her some responsibility.”

“Harlan, Adina, Viviane?”

“Harlan has been making weapons for us. Adina is still just Adina, and Viviane has finally slowed her growth heavily.”

“That’s good. I was worried she’d grow giant. Her eyes are pretty. I wonder if she likes moths.”

His coat began to turn to flames and he started losing definition.

“There was a civil war, and your Others had to put it down. We nearly lost Rosewell to assassins.”

Fomoria solidified again.

“I hope they solved it with the right level of violence. Have we had issues maintaining lands here in the empire?”

“The Others which Xol didn’t kill have been trying to keep the peace, but everyone knows that you died, and despite explaining that you are coming back, many have lost faith.”

“Faith… Gods… The Cult of Fomoria… The Mark.”

They could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

“Ah, it’s simple then.”

He started walking and just vanished.

“Shit.”

It took just a few minutes to locate him, since Mercedes called.

In theory, there shouldn’t have been any way for him to have gotten where he did.

He was in the camp, or rather, The Spire, thousands of feet above the land.

They decided the best way to keep the people of Kor, those that survived the battle which destroyed the city, was to move them onto The Spire and keep it in the air under heavy guard while they built more land onto it and brought food from the other safe cities or what they could raid from Xol’s new empire.

Fomoria was in the center of the camp, preaching.

“Come to me, my people. My sick, my warry.”

The people were wary of him, but those who were in the cult recognized him for what he was.

“Our emperor, where have you been all this time?”

They knelt before him.

“Death has a way of keeping those from their people, yet it could not keep me forever.

Now I am here, formless, but not powerless. Do you trust me? Do you wish to do whatever you can for our empire?”

“Yes, your excellence, I would do anything you ask.”

“Then bare your chest, bear my mark.”

The men and women removed their tops.

Marigold stepped in then.

“Don’t do this.”

He was still himself, and he did not intend to back down.

“These people are choosing of their own free will. I will not be commanded by you.”

His face was starting to take its original shape again.

“Remember-”

“Shh.”

The area fell silent.

“You have failed for six months. Your gods have failed, and it was their keeping me at arms length, their own fear that kept me from being able to trust them, so I trusted The Lich. His betrayal is his, but the events that led to it are not on his head alone, remember that.”

The sounds returned, and he moved to press his hand against a man.

Marigold lifted her hand to fire a beam of radiance, but Sepul twisted the space so it would miss.

She looked ready to turn on him as well.

“I’ve seen the results of your tests already, a preface to meeting him face to face, and I saw no reason to worry over his mark. He is right also that we’ve failed for these six months to do anything but chase Xol.

Even when we kill him, he’s always got another body waiting. Whatever Fomoria is now, he may help, and that mark could be the difference between middling soldiers and powerful ones.”

Those that bore his mark instantly showed signs of health and strength.

“Show me your fire.”

They all lit a simple flame spell in their hands, and nearly scorched themselves.

They put the exact same amount that they would’ve before, but produced something twice as large.

The size wasn’t what worried Marigold though, it was the tint.

There wasn’t a single fire that brightly, letting off only the faintest light.

Earth, wind, water, dark, and even light were corrupted, darkened, changed.

“My people, I will never ask that you fight for me, I grant you this power freely and without requirement.

But, if you wish, listen to this woman, listen to my sister, listen to my advisor, listen to my grandfather, and their words will be commands that might help pry free our empire from the hands of the traitor who stole my face and soul.”

From nowhere he pulled a spear of shadows and slammed the butt on the ground, letting the sound carry across the spire.

Those that did not believe before did now, that this was their emperor.

“I don’t ask that you fight, I would never force you too. But, if you do, this mark, this blessing, will heal you, grant you power.

If you wish to view me as a god, then view my word as tenet.

If not, then remember what I’ve done, the better lives, the food, the freedom, what has been taken from you.

Fight for what is just, do not let hate blacken your heart to stone.

Suffer not the evil men, but do not make them suffer. Much evil is born of ignorance, and there are those which might be turned to our side if they are shown a better way.

For those that refuse to be better, for fear that they might lose their power, for fear that they might lose their gold, make an example with steel.

Power is not good, it is not evil, what you do with it is.

This is the most important lesson I can give, this power, I give it to you, to do with it as you please.

Be a farmer, be a soldier, be a writer, be a healer, but be yourself, and remember others.

An injustice against them with this new power will be met with others who have that same power, think of how they might react as your equals.”

More and more people came to be given the mark.

Sepul watched and chuckled; Marigold wasn’t as impressed.

Not everyone took the mark, but Fomoria was certain to tell The Marked that they should not insult or deride them, because they were exercising their freedom of choice.

That night, Sepul and Marigold sat Fomoria down for a chat.

“So, you’ve come back entirely then?”

“I don’t remember most of it. But I remember a book that some people used to manipulate others into following them.”

“The Reinoan Holy Book?”

He cocked his head to the side.

“Yes, the Reinoans.”

“It was a good speech.”

“As good as any, I suppose. My mind… it’s not clear. That book, I remember it, I must’ve read it many times, but yet I can only remember the tone, the feeling, every word escapes me. Too much has been like that, too much has just been a feeling without the greater details.”

“I was an amnesiac once, but I had Cecht to tell me-”

“That fucking bastard, overgrown canary. I like the yellow canaries.”

Sepul could tell by everything, body language, tone, shape, Fomoria was regressing again.

“How did it feel when Xol stole your body and soul?”

And just like that, he was back again.

“I don’t want to talk about that. What is the state of my empire?”

“Xol has taken over many of your cities through manipulation. He has your face, he has your abilities.

But, those that don’t listen, he has… other methods. You always rejected wide range empathic control, but Xol has no such quibbles.”

Fomoria’s form only became more clear, his face was almost entirely back, but his eyes were still those white holes, he was still missing a nose, and everything from the eyes up was still constantly wiggling, like a children’s drawing.

“I will not let this stand.”

Then it was gone, his face was engulfed in flames, but he wasn’t regressing mentally in any way.

Marigold had been silent until now, speaking back and forth with the gods.

“Alright. We are going to test your mark on proper mages. Sepul. Cecht hates the idea, but you defended the use of it on civilians earlier, and the others want an example made out of you.”

“Bastards, after everything I’ve done, they believe they can punish me. Well I don’t care.

Fomoria, give me that mark, I trust that it won’t be an issue.”

He reached forward, and pressed his hand to his grandfather’s chest, but the mark refused to take hold.

“Perhaps my being a champion rejects whatever that is. We are meant to fight Fae, to resist their ability to change things. We should bring a Fomorian, see if the mark is good for them, or if their spark rejects it.”

Fomoria froze.

“Spark… divinity… He intends to cripple Aarde, but even as a god, the idea would be impossible. The power needed to do something would be far beyond him. Whatever he can do, he isn’t on the level of a lesser god. He needs someone else.”

“He and Nemain-”

“Jenny. I intended once to steal her godhood, perhaps he will do the same.”

The room went silent, nobody wanted to touch on his admittance that he intended to become a god of his own.

The other reason was that all champions had been forced into a conversation with their gods.

Amber rushed into the room once the meeting of gods and champions ended.

“What the fuck were you planning to do? Why? Why would you want to become a god?”

“I don’t remember. How did you know?”

“What color is my hair?”

“Black. Like always.”

Her shadow stood up,

“It has been some time, my Little Shadow.”