And then there was darkness.

It was a consuming thing that seemed to change the unfamiliar features of the hallway into something reminiscent of the past. Pale artificial light poured in through the stained glass window and pooled on the floor like icy water. Outside the twin turbine engine of a medevac churned with a steady thrum as it landed on one of the rooftop landing pads. Yet all these things barely registered to the spirit that hovered over the black marbled tile. Its gaze was focused solely on the graven image of the Imperial Goddess.

The spirit blinked and looked from the goddess to the window. A cold chill ran through its ethereal form as he saw hard black metal snaking its way between the beautiful stained pieces. Another exit blocked. This wasn't right. Where were all the guards? The walls and floor and ceiling were spotless, no longer covered in the dried dark stains.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Everything was to clean. To calm. The old familiar sense of brought decay lingered but didn't show itself in the walls and the floors.

The spirit continued its wandering sojourn into the insulated landscape of a facility it no longer knew. The spirit shivered as distant echoed screams flowed through his mind. This place, the images, the crimson splattered halls silence in their judgement. It was immeasurably better than the place he once knew but somehow this new world unnerved him more.

Turning the corner, the spirit saw the the sculpture of an imperial saint. Drifting up, he examined her with narrowed eyes desperately searched for anything familiar. What little features he saw hidden beneath her hooded robe were those of a near human. Horns, perhaps even antlers, curved around her head like a small thorn halo. At least that's what the strange bumps in her hood hinted at. In the end she was alien to him just like the rest of this world.

Anyone else would have gladly chosen this version of reality. But not him. To him this was a world that had passed him by. One that had left him behind, forgetting about him. Worst still it was now lost in an alien world that was apathetic to his existence.

The spirit trembled as rage, sorrow and fear slammed into each other with the force of tidal waves. One of them overcame the others. It rose up within him and consumed him. The spirit's face contorted in fury as he thrashed about in the air. How long ago had it been since he died? How long had they kept him trapped here? Only now could he sense the dull translucence of his spirit. It was a trench of sorrow that had been carved into him over decades of captivity.

He could feel his mind coming to life again, newly freed from its prison and struggling against the fear that it might not last. He snapped his jaw shut, gnashing his teeth together as he did. Only moments ago had it broken away from his latest prison. His rage and frustration instantly turned to ice he shuddered at the terror of his situation.

He remembered now. There was some sort of device. He didn't understand what it did or what had been doing but from the inside it felt as though he had been forced to run endlessly for decades. Never ceasing. Always toiling. Working tirelessly without reprieve. He needed to think fast if he was to secure his freedom.

Yet there was a problem. He didn't understand this world and some part of him knew he could never understand it. Being free in this time, in this place, would only be a burden. On some level he knew there was no future in it. Whatever future he'd once had was lost, stolen away long ago. His eyes widened as he realized what he needed.

A replacement.

The spirit trembled and a strange transformation began. His fingers seemingly melted into talons, his skin rippling as it shifted. His jaw cracked as it opened wider and wider, until it seemed too wide for his face. A fiendish grin played across his lips and a spark of malicious intent glinted in his eyes. He'd done this before - today he would steal another's future to ensure his own.

The trade wouldn't be equivalent. Another's life could never be his own. He didn't care. Anything had to be far better than this hellish existence. All he had to do now was find the right path that would lead him to the opportunity he sought.

And then there was light. It broke the darkness with a blinding, scarlet light that shone like a beacon. Horrible memories slithered through his mind as he recalled the other times he'd seen that light. Sirens. Screams. Followed by silence. Oh the silence... a haunting wicked melody that seemed to fill and smother everything.

Tearing himself back from the memories, he gazed around at the bloody hue that stained and infected everything with its touch. The emergency lighting seemed to almost amplify the darkness, transforming shadows into the familiar deep pools of dirty shadow. Time was running out; he knew they'd be sending someone to find him.

The spirit shot down the hall, closed doors flying by in a blur. He stopped before an open door and gazed down its hall. This was a medical ward. His entire being seemed to grow lighter as he read the sign:

Children’s Intensive Care Unit.

Surveying the empty hall it slid inside. Unseen. Unheard. He pressed himself against the shadows, an old habit, as he stalked forward. He stopped halfway down the hall. He froze at the edge of a door, a whimper having caught his attention. The sound was soft, like pebbles falling upon a puddle. Pulling his torso away from the wall, he gazed up and eyed the plague next to the door.

Child Ward 003

He smiled. There was a future that was full and brimming over with possibilities. As though he were being granted a gift from the Imperial goddess herself, a doctor walked around the corner. The spirit eyed the golden shimmering light that seemed to outline the man. The spirit shot over to the man and grabbed his shoulders, the Talon's sinking in. He concentrated on the image of that child's room. He grabbed onto the sense of duty that filled the doctor and drew on it just as others had done to him during his life.

For a moment nothing happened. The doctor continued down the hall. He stopped, back stiffening. He raised his arm and activated his omnivice - its orange glow illuminated his face as he scanned the files on its screen. The spirit attempted to peek over the doctor's shoulder, but its surface was grainy and distorted. The doctor then cocked his head towards the nearby room. The doctor took off, heading straight for the door.

The spirit, continuing to hovering just over the doctor shoulder, waited in anticipation as the doctor reached the door and turn the handle. The door swung open and the spirit shot in. Success! He could see his soon to be new body. His soon to be new father jumped to their feet, rushing over to the doctor. The spirit ignored the bombardment of questions the father was now firing at the doctor.

The familiar hum of medical machinery filled the air. The only light in the room was a faint eerie blue from a machine monitoring the heart rate of the small, fragile body on the hospital bed. The child was a young human male, his skin pale and drawn with sickness. His eyes were heavy, as if he knew this place held no love or comfort.

Humans were familiar enough, though the spirit despised them. He was a near human, his species having once been much different before the uplifters came and forced them into this form. Though as far as the spirit was concerned, he thought this form was much better suited than the one their ancient ignorant gods had fashioned. Yet that wasn't the point. Humans and those humanoids that dwelled within Rhinavren had stolen their choice.

To the spirit that was the most abhorrent of sins.

Though he'd settle. the problem was going to be the fact that humans were still looked down upon. It would be a target on his back for the rest of his life. The spirit shrugged as it floated across the room. It wasn't like he wasn't used to that. Nines, there was a target on his back now. He'd have to somehow convince his parents to leave this horrid empire.

The mother rested her head against the little boy's chest and her body shook with sorrow. The only sound was that of her muffled sobs intermingling with the faint sluggish beeping of a nearby medical machine.

Her fear was palpable. Bitter. It washed over the spirit and pressed back against him. The emotion seeped into his body like an oily infection. The spirit squirmed trying to free itself but couldn't. It scowled and clawed at the air, determined to recapture his future and end the grotesque emotion that overwhelmed it. The spirit stalked forward, arms reaching out.

He needed to hurry. The child spirit wasn't long for this world. It was as though the child's physical form was being blurred at the edges. He could sense the spirit bleeding away. The child spirit could no longer nourish and revitalize the body as it struggled against its decay. Without that support the body was wasting away. A problem he would have to overwhelm if he stood any chance at surviving.

He reached out a taloned hand out towards the child and prepared himself. It would be a hard fight but one worth the freedom it would bring. Everything within him was coiled up like a spring ready to explode forward. He took a deep breath.

This was it.

The world tipped upside down as an iron grip closed around his throat. His fingers ripped at it in vain, while he was dragged backwards through the door, screaming and choking for air. An invisible force pulled his arm away, sending him spinning uselessly in the air as more manacles appeared. Their metallic mouths struck him like voracious snakes as they bound his arms and legs. They squeezed him, crushing his ability to resist as they pulled him out into the hallway.

His momentum came to a sudden stop. He was suspended in air. Unable to move the manacles slowly turned him around. Their chains clinking together beneath him. He screamed as he saw the blackened form of the person standing before him. Unlike the others that had been golden illuminous beings, this one was different. Her aura was black. Devoid of light. It was like a black hole had been punched into reality and would now draw him in and consume him whole.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

Korsha stood at the end of the hall, teal witchlight dancing in her open palm. Its radiance clashed with the eerie crimson glow of the emergency lights as the two colors waged war across her face. Even with the two sources of light, pockets of shadows still clung to her light stains she couldn't get rid of.

Her eyes narrowed as the spirit drew closer. The pathetic thing still tried to struggled, desperate to escape. Her lips pressed into a thin line before arcing down in a disapproving curve. She commanded the shacklers to turn the spirit so that it would be forced to face her.

Those large humanoid eyes widened as they saw her. The spirit seemed to understand what she was. Whether it had been alive during a time when the imperial binders existed or it just understood on some instinctive level what she was or the power she possessed, she wasn't sure.

“Please. No. I just want to be free.”

Korsha's eyes narrowed as she glared at the spirit.

“Freedom? You don't need freedom. You need purpose and I will give it to you.”

With her free hand she lifted the receptacle. The device dangled on its chain. The witchlight glinted off glass-like panes that were held in place by sculpted black metal. It reminded Korsha of the lanterns sometimes used on backwater worlds. She preferred these to the shards that were typically used to capture spirits. She raised the receptacle before her and grinned.

She clenched her fist extinguishing the witchlight and the spirit disappeared. Though she couldn't see it she knew where it was due to her connection to the shacklers. With her hand free she drew energy from within the well of power inside her. With enough energy gathered she snapped her hand and activated the receptacle.

There was a flash like lightening as the spirit shot into the device. Several heartbeats later the device glowed. Korsha lifted it up letting the light stain her face and curved horns. Her eyes watched as the spirit, now an orb, slammed itself against the walls of its new prison.

“Don't worry. All you need is purpose.”

She marched down the hallway, her chest puffed out and her chin held high. She passed several security guards who all stepped to the side, though none of them met her gaze. When she reached the elevator, they saluted her without any particular conviction. Servants such as herself were there for a purpose—to do their job. This was why she existed.

In truth she knew as soon as she had passed that their eyes had narrowed, glaring daggers at her. She couldn't blame them. Even if it had been a hundred and fifty plus years ago, they still probably had family members that fought in the war or at least had passed their haunted memories to the younger generation. A warning to never trust a mage. She kept her composure, remaining stoic just as her master had taught her.

Reaching the elevator, she lifted her hand. Her omnivice flared to life. The panels of the super computer hovered over her hand like a glowing red gauntlet. She waved her hand over the command console. There was a chime as the elevator's AI acknowledged her override command. Within a minute she was stepping inside the elevator. Once more she used her omnivice to send a command to the AI. The elevator doors shut and the elevator dropped down towards the basement levels.

She clipped the receptacle to her belt and leaned back against the wall. She folded her arms beneath her chest and took a deep breath. Soon enough power would be restored to this wing and she could complete her mission. She hoped that this delay didn't lead to any unforeseen consequences. Her master had been very adamant about her time table. There were so many plans in motion.

I will not fail you.

She clenched her jaw as her chin dipped. She couldn't let her master down. She wouldn't be the one to ruin his plans. Yet within her doubt stirred. What if she wasn't enough? Her master's voice drifted into her mind.

"A system is only as strong as its parts. Therefore the weakest part is the sum of its strength."

He had said this with an infectious self-assurance that told her he knew he wasn't in fact the weakest link. By implication it was her. Yet time and time again he relied upon her. Trusted her. How could she be the weakest link but still be trusted?

"Korsha don't do this. Please. I don't want to go back." The spirit pleaded within her mind.

Her eyes narrowed and she bit her lip at the spirit's intrusion into her thoughts. She'd been careless, not placing her usual defenses like she should have. She rolled her eyes as she huffed. The spirit continued its pleading but she ignored it. She eyed the descending floor numbers.

"Korsha you don't have to do this."

She stiffened.

"Shut up."

The spirit's presence recoiled as though she has struck it.

"I know about you. How you were a prisoner here. Tell me, how many OD'ed because of you? Unlike you, I do what is required of me to make things better. You're just a worthless leech."

"Is that what they-"

She threw up her defenses, shoving the spirit's presence back. She wasn't about to let it influence her anymore. Not that it ever had a chance but she was on a mission and so couldn't let even the most minute of chance come before her and her objective.

The elevator door chimed, opening out into a dimly lit hallway made of hypercrete. The walls are rough and grey, and the ceiling is low, giving an oppressive feeling as she stepped out. The walls glinted with sinister shadows as the flickering lights overhead illuminated the corridor. She hated the fact that her heart was racing right now. You defeated him.

Forcing herself forward, she marched deeper into the labyrinthian corridors that made up the hospital's basement. With every step she took, lights on the ceiling flickered to life, illuminating her path. The dim corridor seemed to go on forever with only the echo of her footsteps to keep her company. The dim corridor seemed to go on forever with only the echo of her footsteps to keep her company. All around her were shades and shadows, living reminders of a previous mission.

Every now and then she swore she could still see his face out of the corner of her eye. Her skin bristled as her imagination swore to her it felt the shadows reaching out, ready to grab her again. She clamped down on her fear, her jaw aching as she ground her teeth together. She ignored the slight tremble in her hand as she strode down the hall.

It wasn't like that had been the only mission that had nearly killed her. There had been dozens of other close calls. One with possessed animatronics. That one had been the more entertaining of her missions, at least when she looked back upon it.

Her reverie was ended as she reached a door marked: Generator room. She lifted her hand once more activating her omnivice. The door beeped, opening to reveal a room that was as lit up as though it were midday. The spirit light, as it was often called, had the strange effect of leaving no shadows. Technicians in black overalls scrambled around the catwalks that surrounded the cathedral's power cortex. There were five arched pillars that came up like talons over a central cylinder. Korsha had always thought that it looked like talons reaching to grab the hilt of a blade.

One of the technicians nearest her turned to see her. He let out a sigh of relief as he trotted over to her. The golden bar on his lapel marked him as the head technician.

“Jah.” He said in a formal greeting to her station, “We've nearly finished the repairs.”

He turned back towards his crew who worked on the fifth blackened pillar with frantic energy. There was a shout followed by a low humming sound. The sound grew, intensifying as the other pillars came back online. There was a loud rhythmic pounding like a giant's heartbeat, that hammered faster and faster.

“Scratch that. We're ready.”

Korsha nodded and made her way up the metal steps. She followed the circular walkway towards the dark pillar. She marveled at the ancient tech. This was a first gen iteration of this style of essence harvesting. It was an old derelict thing held together with soldered hopes. No wonder it went out. Korsha thought, but it wasn't like the imperial interior had a choice. They took what they could get.

Stopping before the fifth pillar, Korsha unlatched the receptacle from her hip. She lifted it up and gazed at the spirit one last time. She shook her head imperceptibly as she watched the spirit desperately trying to free itself.

In truth she envied the spirit as she placed the receptacle on the altar that was set into the base of the pillar. An arcane circle flashed, its heresy kept in check by the careful craft of the technomancers. Graven Images of the Imperial Goddess's saints and divine messengers -terrifying beings made of hard muscle, wings and horns- adorned the altar. Their images acting as an intricate holy bulwark against the sincraft.

The spirit screamed as it was torn from the receptacle, the sound caused everyone but her to wince. There was a flash, brilliance and as burning as lightening. Followed by the thunderous rumble of power began to build.

She watched as energy flowed back into the pillar. Blue arcs of intensity swarmed up until they coalesced at the top. There was a shout of approval from the engineers. Korsha ignored them as she left and headed back out into the hall.

A bitter frown marked her face as she made her way back to the elevator. She hated the spirit. Hated that it had such a defined purpose. Its mission was simple. Productive. It provided immeasurable value by keeping Varu Cathedral powered. The imperial hospital cared for thousands each day. That was something that would be tallied upon its ledger when it was finally released to the Imperial Goddess. Korsha couldn't be sure her own ledger would be so free of red.

You don't know the burden of choice. The treachery of freedom. She thought as a shiver ran up her spine. She'd experienced the horrible reality of seemingly infinite choice more times than she wanted to admit and each time she'd made the wrong choice. She'd learned long ago to relinquish such decisions to her master's superior wisdom.

He was her guide. A captain that ensured she traversed this treacherous universe without drowning in all its temptations and false leads. He was a guiding light. A star. A fixed point in the universe that she could lift her gaze up to admire and know that it was forever positioned upon a seat of glorious knowing.

Casting her thoughts aside she prepared herself to return to her original mission. Entering the elevator she punched the button for the eighty-third floor. She glanced at herself in the mirror, locking eyes with her reflection. Those amber autumn eyes stared back at her.

“You can do this.” She let the words echo through the elevator, pretending it was her reflection that had said it to her. She sighed and stared back at her reflection, “You don't have a choice.”

Turning away, she lingered in the silence as she prepared her mind for her journey. The door dinged and she stepped out. Now all that was left was to go into the underworld and find a fragment of a sick governor's soul.

Easy enough.