Chisisi lay dying in a small home in a bustling sandstone metropolis. She was not afraid of death. She had lived a long and full life.
She felt a twinge of guilt as she pondered. She had accomplished so much in her life, but there was still much more she wanted to do. She owed the world her gifts, but she knew she would never have the chance to use them all.
You know how to remain… Another part of her whispered.
And what it would cost to do so. No thank you.
Her pet raven, a wise old creature with intelligent onyx eyes, tilted its head to look at Chisisi.
“Don’t give me that look! You’re no spring chicken either.”
The raven squawked in protest at being compared to a lesser bird.
Her servant-construct quietly entered the room. It was a vaguely humanoid wooden statue, decorated with her own geometric designs. It brought in a tray of bread and broth, setting it on the bedside table before starting to scrub the floor.
It is unfortunate. With my death, it too will cease its usefulness. Unless I transfer my power. A painful way to go…
I would consider it worth it…except my servant would inevitably find itself in the hands of those who need it least. What reason do I have to make my final legacy nothing more than an exotic luxury for the already-comfortable?
Chisisi weakly turned her head and saw a large amount of black feathers under the window her raven used to enter the room.
“Oh, little Yarn. You’re not feeling well either. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”
The servant continued to scrub the floor.
Chisisi had an epiphany.
- - -
Many of her memories of her previous life were hazy, but Yarn remembered her friend fondly. Chisisi had raised her after an injury as a hatchling had stranded her. Later, she had tried to release her back into the wild, but Yarn would always return. Eventually her company was accepted.
Chisisi had given Yarn a final request: “Relieve suffering, in whatever way you can.”
The request had come with three gifts:
A wooden statue for a body that wouldn’t age or need to eat. It couldn’t fly, which was irritating. Still, it was better than dying.
The second gift was the…whatever Chisisi had done to her mind. She could now think in ways that she couldn’t have dreamed as a raven. Life had become a lot more complex. Or perhaps she had simply become aware of existing complexity?
Last but not least, the power. She loved the power. Of course, its original purpose was to enable her to control the construct-body… but she was learning it could be used for all sorts of useful things. Her body lacked a voice, so she learned to project sound directly into the air.
When Chisisi died, her modest possessions were distributed to her family. They tried to take Yarn too, but Chisisi had written a last-minute addendum to her will, declaring Yarn to be “her own person.”
Legally, there was little precedent for a construct that owned itself. This caused some lawyers no small degree of consternation.
Yarn wandered the land, searching for those who were suffering. She learned useful skills, such as farming, medicine, reading, and writing.
She had to be careful not to stay in one place for too long. People would start to notice her, and that was never good.
Scholars and messengers from various countries would pester her with questions and offers.
“What is your secret?”, “How is it that you have free will?”
“I don’t know.” she would reply. It didn’t seem to dissuade them from asking again. Sometimes they offered her money, which she found amusing. She didn't need to eat, so why would money entice her?
When those attempts inevitably failed, they would sometimes resort to capture. She would play along until she got bored. Escape was always easy. No matter how powerful her captors, they always underestimated her skill.
She didn't need sleep, but humans always seemed to let their guard down at night. A group of guards was no match for her. All she had to do was slowly replace the air they were breathing with stale air, and they would quickly fall unconscious. A very useful tip she had picked up from a surgeon.
Once a mage had captured her. He was stubbornly determined to study the source of her sentience.
He was prepared for all sorts of magical attempts to escape. So much so that he neglected to have her sufficiently bound. Shackles worked well enough for humans, but she had no qualms about breaking her own ‘arm’ to escape. It didn’t cause pain and she could just repair it later.
Eventually, her fame spread amongst the people as some sort of ‘good omen’. This notoriety discouraged further attempts at study or capture.
- - - - -
Hiru was a teenage boy. He had been sold into slavery as a child to pay his parents' debts.
He didn't mind. He had never known anything different.
He was one slave of many, and his current task was cleaning his master's laboratory.
He was known for being careful and obedient, and he never touched anything he wasn't supposed to.
He swept the floor, carefully working around the imposing mirror in the center of the room. It stood from floor to ceiling, but showed no reflections. Colors and shapes flickered dimly in it’s recesses.
He pointedly looked elsewhere. His master had been specific: he should never look at or pay attention to the mirror.
A flash of light lit the room. The mirror began to crackle, like ice being crushed. He backed away nervously. It had never done anything like this.
A deafening snap erupted from the mirror.
Hiru looked reflexively. A large crack was spreading from the center. Bright light shone through. He dropped his broom and turned to run. There was a force pulling him towards the mirror. His feet could not gain traction as they began to be lifted off the ground. In desperation he grabbed the side of a desk, but his fingers were too sweaty. It slipped from his grasp.
He fell into the void, and kept falling.
Dim gray light surrounded him.
- - - - -
One day, Yarn heard something that sounded like distant thunder. No one else seemed to notice, but it grew louder and more frequent as the day went on.
Orders were given for the city to be evacuated, and panicked throngs crowded the streets. No one seemed to know what was happening.
Yarn leapt from rooftop to rooftop, bypassing the crowds. She followed the sound to its source, an imposing building near the center of the city. It was a library for mages, where Chisisi had done much of her research all those decades ago.
Her attention was drawn to two mages arguing near the doors.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“What do you mean, it's going to leak out? You said a breach was impossible!”
“According to precedent, a breach was impossible. But this storm is without precedent!”
“Either way, you're responsible for this.”
“No! There was a slave cleaning in that room, he must have done something—”
The other mage cut him off, “Your slave, your fault.” He snapped. “Regardless of what started it, you will have to destroy that gate before it—”
“Are you mad?! I’m not going anywhere near that thing!”
“Either that or the gallows. Does the city deserve to suffer for your inep—”
Yarn leapt from a rooftop, landing a few paces in front of them.
“What must be destroyed?” she asked.
Both mages jumped in surprise.
“What should I do?” she asked insistently.
Eventually, one of the mages spoke.
“It looks like a large, cloudy mirror. It's stronger than it looks. You may need to destroy the reinforcement spells at the base before it can be destroyed.”
“Very well,” she said, and sprinted into the building.
Quickly, she found her way to the secluded room housing the mirror. The noise was deafening.
Cracks spread across its surface like a spiderweb. She stepped towards it, but then—a piece of shadow seeped from the fissures just as the mirror imploded.
The shadow rushed toward her. She stepped back, but it was too fast. It seeped into her body.
She reeled with shock. Something wasn’t right. Her mind hurt. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt pain. Shadows flickered around the edges of her vision.
She emerged from a daze. What had she been so worried about? The pain only lasted a moment, and now her mind had expanded again!
Soon, the two mages she had spoken to ran into the room.
“You have our thanks,” The senior one droned.
The other mage, a middle-aged man with spectacles, rummaged through the rubble.
“Decades of study…” He lamented wearily.
Suddenly, he froze and his eyes widened.
“There is residue here! Something escaped before it was closed! It went…”
He raised a trembling finger to point at her.
“I didn’t see anything,” she said dismissively.
The older mage looked at her closely and cursed. “You have been contaminated!”
The next thing Yarn knew, she was standing alone. Two bodies lay motionless in the rubble.
- - -
The Lemnarch’s complex was massive, yet ascetic. Every meter of space had a purpose, and the servants and administrators worked with order and efficiency. As Oathbound, they could not do otherwise.
The entity itself occupied a humanoid statue about three meters in height. Its face was a expressionless carving loosely resembling that of a clean-shaven human man, while its eyes were large Onyx stones, cut into faceted spheres. It had been carved wearing a simple robe without ornamentation.
It gave audience to orderly lines of petitioners. None were denied a chance to consult its wisdom and insight, and it needed neither sleep nor nourishment.
“Next petitioner, advance.”
The words it spoke resonated from every stone in the spacious audience chamber, not oppressively loud, but impossible to miss.
A young woman and man stepped forward, separated by two meters with a guard between them. They did not look at each other.
“State your business.”
The woman strode forward, with only a slight tremble to her steps.
“Lemnarch, my husband has cheated on me several times.”
“She believes her words. Do you dispute their accuracy, human?” One of the administrators pointed to the man to indicate the question was to him.
“No.” The man said without a flicker of guilt.
“How many times did this occur?”
The man smirked, “I’ve lost count.”
“Then you must pay her the maximum penalty for this type of indiscretion.”
A scribe swiftly handed the man a paper a bill for the required amount. He looked at it, shrugged, and nodded.
“I request leave for a divorce.” The woman asked.
“Do you have plans prepared for managing the separation of estates?”
“Yes, all of them are ready.” She produced a stack of documents.
“Then your request is granted.”
A scribe handed her another sheaf of paperwork, which she seized with relish before following another scribe down to a different room.
“Next petitioner, advance.”
A man stepped forward in clothing that looked out of place.
“Lemnarch, I am a dignitary from the nation of Kzek. Our southern border is beset by raiders from untamed lands. They far outnumber us and refuse to negotiate. We will not be able to hold them for much longer.”
“Our current treaty guarantees non-aggression, nothing more. We are not bound to aid Kzek.”
“But if we are destroyed, they will come for your lands next! It would be prudent to stop them before more is despoiled!”
“We do not fear these raiders. If prudence is your goal, become part of the Lemnarch Empire and your victory will be guaranteed.”
The man's voice was level, but his hands shook. “So this is our only choice? Death or slavery?”
“There are no slaves here. All is done according to law and order.”
“I see little difference where a lifeless stone holds lives and destinies in its uncaring grasp!”
A few scribes and administrators murmured in disgust.
“Will Kzek join us or continue as they are?”
“It’s not as if we have a choice!” The emissary hissed. He motioned to the administrators. “Curse you! All of you! And may your heartless stone god crumble into dust!”
A few among the administrators gave shouts of outrage, but the Lemnarch offered no reaction.
Scribes led the distraught man into another chamber. He followed like a man to the gallows. “May my ancestors have mercy on my soul and forget that I allowed this travesty,” he whispered.
- - -
Two hours past midnight, when few petitioners sought an audience, a lone figure strode down the hall. Her body of intricately carved wood was dark with age and the edges were worn smooth.
“Lemnarch. I seek a boon,” she said softly.
The lone administrator on duty shook away drowsiness and sat up straight.
“What is your request?”
“A young boy was lost somewhere in a severed realm. Certain spells of divination assure me that he is still somewhere in there, but his exact location is unknown. My request is that you search every part of this realm until you find and return him, as long as he remains somewhere there to be found.”
“How large is this realm?”
“The exact size is difficult to measure because of the dynamic nature of the realm, but this spell or similar can give you an estimate of its current dimensions.” She proffered a small scroll, which floated out of her hand before disappearing with an audible snap.
“You speak truthfully and your request is achievable. What do you offer in exchange?”
“I have traveled many continents, and while doing so I have collected knowledge of farming, craftsmanship and mathematics. Here is a summary of what I have to offer.” She produced a small, ornate notebook and a small cyan crystal. “I have imprinted the knowledge into this gem, and if you agree to these terms it shall become yours to access.”
There was silence for a few seconds, then—
“The terms are reasonable. I accept.” The crystal vanished from Yarn’s hand.
A shimmering halo grew around the statue, and a vaguely humanoid form composed of light emerged. It flashed, and a line rent the air in front of it, widening into a door. Dark, chaotic swirls of energy tumbled on the other side. Without hesitation, it stepped through, and the door snapped shut with a hiss.
- - - - -
How long have I been here? Hiru wondered. There had been no way to tell day from night, and he never became hungry or thirsty. The swirling lights and clouds of murk formed and dispersed with no discernible patterns. They reminded him of a starry sky, but more colorful and less…normal.
The lights occasionally passed through him and sent a jolt of sensation down his spine, making him shiver.
- - -
Did the mages know he was here? Surely someone would notice. Someone would fetch him any moment.
But they never arrived.
So he waited.
Time passed like a crashing waterfall, the sameness fading into a single droning impression. He measured time by how often the lights passed through him. Only, he didn’t know how to count past one thousand. So he started counting the thousands. Then the thousands of thousands. Then the thousands of those.
Then, amid the monotony, something happened.
A light drifted towards him, and he prepared to advance the count. But then the light froze in place. Then the light condensed down to a sphere about the size of his head.
Greeting, drifting thinker. The light sang into his thoughts
He watched it with his mouth open. He didn’t remember how to form words, nor what he would say even then.
This place has long become settled. It suffers. Would you help me set it free?
Of course he would, but Hiru didn’t remember how to say so. Nevertheless, the light seemed to sense his agreement.
I will show you a way out. You can’t take your body with you. That stays here, to guide one who is lost. But I will show you another way.
It hummed a lilting melody as it taught him what to do.