I closed my eyes, emotions raging, struggling with whether I should laugh or cry. All this time, all the humiliation, all the days spent facing adventurers who treated me like a broken, pathetic failure with a smile plastered on my face, and the key to everything was sitting just below. How different the last 6 years would have been, if only I’d found this earlier. Perhaps I never would have frozen up, never been in debt… My brow furrowed as I opened my eyes, gazing down at the silver sphere of raw potential. Why was it down here, below a city that seemed to be clueless as to what lay below? And who had created it? Core bindings were assembled from the shards of essence, a solidified -and condensed- form of mana left behind by dead magical creatures, or distilled from raw mana by strange alchemy. Neither were a simple, or cheap undertaking. A binding, as the name implied, bound a mortal’s soul to the fabric of mana that flowed through all of existence, enabling influence and manipulation of that mana, creating magic. Therefore, it was quite an exacting science, requiring a great deal of collected essence and balance, as essence carried fragments of will from their previous owners, and directly affected what magics a person gained. I had read a few horrifying accounts of terrible, disfiguring abilities granted by improperly prepared bindings. And every diagram I’d ever studied always portrayed them as being made from many tiny, interlocking fragments, like those hidden in my apartment far above. But this shining sphere was nearly perfect. As I looked closer, miniscule veins of a slightly darker color webbed across the silver surface, in a seemingly random pattern of jagged lines and tight curls.

Pulling my gaze from the gem like core, I looked over the spacious room again, looking for any hint as to why any of this was here. I hesitated a moment before stepping away from the core, an irrational fear that as soon as I wasn’t poised to grab it, it would disappear. Shaking my head to dispel the baseless anxiety, I moved to the nearest table. Made of a metal I couldn’t identify, it was perfectly smooth with a mirror like shine, and no sign at all of deterioration, unlike the many items cluttered atop and on the floor surrounding it. Glass vials and strange copper instruments decorated in sweeping lines of unlit glyphs were littered across the space, and between them were the rotted remains of what appeared to be crumbling parchment. I attempted to lift one sheet to get a better look, and it crumbled to dust at the touch. Looking back at the wall I’d entered through, the rubble of more than just the wall littered the ground. Looking closer, it appeared to be a statue, though of who was impossible to determine. I could only gather a vague sense of the size from a single massive clenched fist, the incredible detail conveying a strength and wrath that made my chest constrict in imagined pain, before I looked away with a shudder. I estimated it must have reached nearly to the ceiling of the vaulted space. I looked upward at the crack in the wall, then at the crumbled remains. Whatever had made that crack in the wall, it appeared it had first destroyed the statue.

“Hmmm.” I started a bit at the sound of my own voice, now used to the complete, oppressive silence of the space. I dismissed the crumbled statue and slowly made my way around the rest of what I suspected was some sort of alchemy laboratory, carefully stepping over the debris, still acutely aware of my fragile ribs. I cursed my black luck that I’d left my satchel with Vera’s bag outside the kobold’s nest. No doubt many of these artifacts would fetch quite a price on the surface.

After searching the remaining tables, I sighed. No writing had survived however long this strange lab had been buried down here, the only clue to its age or provenance being the odd design of the glyphs on the equipment. It was a very different design than the glyphs I’d studied with Jerome, and while I was certainly no master of the craft, the jagged design present in some of the glyphs was anathema to what I’d been taught. Glyphs relied on flowing designs to in turn allow the mana to flow, naturally activating the designs when it was poured in from the inlet rune. In many of the glyphs, I couldn’t even find an inlet rune, they seemed to operate in some fundamentally different way. With a sigh, I set a clawed copper instrument down on the table, my eyes inevitably returning to the core where it waited.

I chewed my lip, nervous. It just seemed… too easy. Why would anyone leave such a powerful, incredibly valuable thing out, unsecured. Glancing back at the cracked wall, I supposed that the room had at one time been closed, but anyone who could use the instruments in this lab would have been able to secure it, surely. Alchemists were always portrayed as dark, mysterious figures not to be trifled with in the stories. Robbing an alchemist was said to be a death sentence in a thousand ways. And that meant the bane of any adventurer: traps. Nothing in this room suggested a trap of any kind, which was what worried me the most. Invisible blades, explosive runes hidden in the floor or walls… I’d heard tales of all kinds of fiendish snares through wild stories passed around the guild hall. Still, I wanted that core. Needed it, really. And not just to improve my life above ground. I glanced over at the door that presumably led out and hopefully to the surface. There was no telling what lay beyond it, or if the trek would be as easy as it had been in, and I was hurting. A little magic could go a long way to helping me get out.

Not that I actually knew how to do magic, even with a binding. From what I’d heard and read, every binding was different, and granted power in varying forms, and most people who gained a binding said there was a certain amount of instinct that guided them to understanding their power, though study was always required. Still… even if I got some unimpressive power, anything would be a boon in getting out of this hole. Best to have a backup though, so I approached the door, the softly glowing glyphs adorning it unbroken. I frowned. “That might be an issue”, I muttered sourly. I recognized several of the runes, and they did not tell a friendly tale. The door was clearly warded to prevent opening, whether it was to ward intruders or escape, it didn’t matter. And I dared not touch it to attempt to foul the glyphs, it was solid copper, and surely trapped against any tampering. A test then. Taking cover behind the nearest of the long tables, I grabbed a bent bronze funnel, and gently tossed it at the door. Peeking over the tabletop, I watched it sail toward the door, until it stopped abruptly in midair, frozen for a momentary delay before a flash of energy washed out of the door with a low hum, turning the funnel to ash in an instant. My jaw dropped.

“Shit.”

Glancing back at the core binding still gripped in the claws of the pedestal, I tapped my chin. Glyphs ran down the length of it, disappearing below the floor. Perhaps connected to the door as well? If I took the binding, the glyphs might power down. Or it might trigger some devilish trap and spell my grisly end. And what choice was there really? But if I was just going to take it and run… why not just perform the ritual at the same time? At least that way I might have a chance.

My heart thudded in my chest. Two birds, one stone. Take the binding to try and disarm the door, and embed it within my soul at the same time. It would probably work. Maybe. And if it didn’t, well I was probably going to die down here anyway. I rubbed my sweating palms together, grimacing as the muscle over my ribs constricted painfully. I’d need a pair of circles, and blood. My blood, to be exact. Without my sword or even a knife, I instead found a sharp fragment of glass, and one of the wide brass bowls would serve as a vessel.

Standing before the plinth, I swallowed loudly, the sound echoing off the stone. I’d have to be extremely careful. I needed enough blood to draw the circles, but I was already injured and didn’t have much to spare. My mouth was parched, but I took a deep breath, determined. This was the only way. Kneeling over the bowl, I unlaced my bracer, then drew the improvised blade across my forearm with a hiss, blood dripping down into the bowl, gradually filling. My hands were shaking, but I tried to steady myself. I’d been preparing for this moment nearly since I could read. I’d begged the village priest for weeks to borrow the manual for binding investiture, then spent far longer reading and rereading it. I knew this ritual better than any but an alchemist at this point, and I could draw these circles in my sleep.

Dipping my fingers into the bowl, I forced myself to go as slow as possible, drawing the first of the circles around the base of the plinth. I considered if the glyphs along the plinth might interfere, but dismissed the worry. If it didn’t work, nothing would happen, and I’d just have to adjust the plan. After adding the runes along the outside edge of the circle, I turned to my own. Of the two, this was far more complicated. The ritual had to funnel the power of the shards, or fully formed core in this case, safely into my soul, so many of the runes lining the interior were about slowing the transfer of power into a manageable flow. So I took my time, careful not to let any of the blood drip and ruin the pattern.

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Finishing the circle, I went over every rune again, ensuring they were perfect. Then with a deep breath, I began tugging off my armor, groaning as the movement pulled on the extremely tender flesh around my ribs. Using only my right arm I managed to get it off without vomiting, barely, and tossed the armor to the side. Pulling off the linen shirt beneath, I wet my fingers in the bowl again before placing them against my abdomen, drawing the anchoring rune of investiture with a practiced hand.

Kneeling in the circle before the plinth, I found my hands no longer shook. This was it, and I found the worry had fallen away, only acceptance and focus remaining. I reached out, placing a single bloody finger against the warm surface of the core binding. The warmth seeped into me, welling up from within as the core began to glow brighter. For a moment it suffused my soul, and all my aches disappeared. I felt renewed.

Then white hot power flooded into me, and I arched my back in a wordless scream. The spacious room flooded with silver light, as the core and ritual circles ignited in a blaze of power, a stream of ethereal silver flame erupting from the core and tethering to my chest. Every muscle in my body seized, contracting to the point I thought every bone in my body would shatter. Heat spread outward from the anchor rune, power racing through my veins like molten fire. The core’s energy rushed into me in an unceasing torrent, battering at the edges of my sanity. I struggled to remain conscious, terror filling my mind. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, everything I’d read said investiture was a brief, warming experience. I wrestled to take control, to try and break the rune on my chest, to stop the impossibly vast flow of power.

The core suddenly blazed even brighter, the light burning my eyes, yet I was unable to even close my eyelids. A wave of rage roiled into me, the emotion surprising as it warred with my terror. Phantom sensations assaulted my mind, a flood so great as to be incomprehensible. I caught flashes of agony, so all encompassing as to make the pain I felt now seem no worse than a pinprick, a fear to mirror my own, but above it all, rising like a great wave to block out the light of the sun, was a hungering rage, so dark and terrible that my very soul shuddered, a leaf in the wind before the fury.

My mind threatened to break under the assault, drowning in the sensations. I reached for something, anything to hold onto, to weather this storm of power and emotion. I latched onto my memories, fighting the foreign emotion threatening to completely consume my mind. Vera’s encouraging smile as she led me to our first fight flitted through my mind. My mother’s voice rose up, love apparent even as it shook with fatigue. The wave of rage pressed down, crushing me. Until Tyrion’s face rose from my memory, snake-like sneer snapping my mind into focus. I felt the swell of rage halt, its advance stymied. I pressed the advantage, focusing on my own anger to bear my will, pulling on everything I’d experienced over the last 6 years. The memory of my first fight flashed through my mind, the fear and self loathing both in the moment and for years after. The snickers of the other adventurers as they glanced my way as they mocked my cowardice. I recalled the fight in the guild hall, the derision with which Tyrion tossed me aside after I'd tackled him. Within the stream of power attacking my mind, I stood. I would not be cowed. This power would be mine. I would not shrink and hide from my own failures, I would overcome them.

I would overcome everything. I screamed again, but there was no fear, only defiance. The power within raged uncontrolled, and even as it suffused my soul, I felt it burrowing into my body, searing flesh. The core surged again as it shrank, dissolving into a stream of silver light flecked with shadow as it flowed into me. I grasped at the power flooding my soul, trying to shape it, to direct it, but it flowed on unimpeded, completely unaffected by my efforts. The power fought me still, burning as it burrowed into my soul, but I held. I hardened my resolve, and I endured, the glyph of the same name flicking into my mind. I held onto the idea, repeating it in my mind as I mentally envisioned the glyph.

Endure.

Endure.

Endure.

I held onto consciousness, if only barely. The core had shrunk considerably, barely a pebble as it continued to stream into me.

The flow of power finally began to ebb, the light dimming as the last of the core dissolved into silver light, impacting my chest with a final potent blast of power. I collapsed, spent. My chest heaved erratically as I tried to catch my breath. Every inch of me ached, but the pain was fading quickly. Sitting up, I was able to breathe a bit easier. Much easier, in fact. I ran a hand along my side, poking at my now unblemished ribs, and grinned. I had no idea how it had worked, but I was healed, and I felt good. I stood, my body feeling lighter than it ever had before. Before I could begin exploring just how much had changed, I glanced down at the ritual circles, eyebrows raising in muted alarm. The circles had completely burned away, leaving ashen scars burned into the stone floor.

“I’m… pretty certain that isn’t supposed to happen,” I murmured, but my attention was diverted as I noticed the burns were getting harder to make out, belatedly realizing the room was growing darker. The glyphs running down the plinth and covering the walls and obelisk were dimming fast, even the pool of liquid near the crack I’d entered through beginning to lose its radiance.

A shudder ran through the earth, dust raining down from the ceiling. I looked up in alarm, picking out tiny fissures beginning to spread through the stone.

“Shit. Shit shit shit!” I yelled as the room began to crumble, scrambling for the door. The glyphs there were still lit, fading at a slower pace. I cursed again, uncertain. The glyphs were losing their potency, but they had turned metal to ash, and I wasn’t keen to test that effect on bare flesh. I could head back the way I’d entered… but that only led to slow starvation and death. The stone ceiling began to fracture, a head size chunk slamming into the floor next to me with a heavy thud. “Not happening. I am not getting smashed by rocks after all this. Not now!”

Racing over, I grabbed the fallen masonry, heaving the stone with a grunt even as the room filled with the sound of crashing stone. Struggling under the weight slightly, I braced my feet and launched the stone with all the strength I could muster straight at the door. This time it managed to impact the door itself before flashing with searing light, melting much of it to slag before it dropped to the ground. The glyphs dimmed dramatically, and I was encouraged when several sputtered out and failed to rekindle. Turning quickly, I found another chunk of debris, keeping an eye on the cracks spreading above and dodging a falling section that crushed the full length of one of the tables. Lining up in front of the door again, I heaved another stone, the door buckling with the shriek of metal giving. After a delay, more of the glyphs flickered and went out, but the stone was still glowing red. And now there was a growing puddle of liquified molten stone at the base of the door. Stones were falling all around me, and I raised an arm in a vain attempt to prevent anything from crushing my head.

I narrowed my eyes, watching the glyphs through the dust, waiting for the perfect moment to leap through. But they weren’t fading quickly enough, and as more stone shattered the floor, I made my decision. Better to take a chance on the weakened magic of the door rather than the certainty of a stone crushing me. Taking a few steps back, I braced against some of the rubble. This only had a chance of working if I moved as quickly as possible, moving through the doorway before it could activate fully. Taking a few quick breaths, I didn’t hesitate. I sprinted forward, leaping the puddle of lava and slamming into the door as hard as I could. The weakened metal buckled and gave, bending outward until I lay on the partially opened door, suspended above the superheated metal. The light on the door flickered, surging for a moment before dying completely. I didn’t waste a moment, bracing my shoulder against the door and kicking against the frame, metal groaning as I shoved through the gap, dropping to the stone beyond.

I rolled forward and away from the door, pulling my legs out of the way just as the opening collapsed, crushing the door beneath it in a shower of rubble. The rumble continued, and the cavern I found myself in shuddered. I panned my gaze around the nearly lightless cave as I stood. The darkness seemed somehow less, and I quickly saw the path forward. I ran, splashing through the shallow water spreading across the floor as collapsing rock crumbled around me in showers of dust. An errant thought flitted across my frazzled mind as I wondered if the city above would be okay. An opening in the rock loomed before me as the cave narrowed to a point above the flow of a shallow river, clearly the source of the water in the lab. Splashing into it, I dove into the water just as boulders started raining down, collapsing the cave behind me. Coming up for air, I found myself floating along in a slow moving current through a low tunnel inches above.

With a sigh, I finally relaxed, letting the current take me where it willed.