[Healing spell applied.]
[Stamina buff applied.]
[Strength buff applied.]
[Vitality buff applied.]
Warmth flows up my legs and spreads through the rest of my body. I immediately feel more awake, more refreshed: stronger, faster, and revitalized. It’s a strange sensation, juxtaposing the coolness of the water I can feel through my boots. I guess I should have taken them off first, along with some of my clothes. But that might have disturbed Liz’s illusion, and somehow I don’t feel very bothered by the idea of wearing wet clothing; it feels insignificant beneath the healing warmth of the Springs.
[HP: 150/150]
[Bonus HP: 10]
Even as I watch the stat, the number slowly continues to tick up. How does bonus HP work? I’m guessing it’ll mean I can take a few more hits before feeling anything, but the mechanics of that seems odd. I turn back to tell the others they should bathe in the water as well, but they’re already ahead of me. Liz and Darian are crouched at the edge; Darian cups water in a hand to trickle down one of her arms, while Liz splashes some over her face with a laugh. Earnest is helping to lower Xamireb to the bank, while Xamireb gestures to his prosthetic. Quell, meanwhile, is staring intently at the water, eyebrows knitted in concentration, chewing on a lip as he tips his head. I chuckle at the sight. Leave it to him for his first instinct to be scholarly interest.
I turn back to the springs. The trepidation I’d previously felt about entering the water is gone, now replaced with a soothing calm. I instinctively know this water poses no threat. I’m not sure it would even be possible to drown in these waters. They’d try too hard to keep you alive.
I wade farther out, the water rising to my thighs, then waist. The instinct to lay on my back and drift is strong, but I’m not here for a comforting bath.
Echo, are there any other effects the Spring is affecting on me? I ask. Specifically, about my Role.
[Negative,] Echo says. [The Life arcana within the Lifespring Oasis cannot inflict buffs or debuffs on the user’s Role.]
My heart sinks, but I’m not ready to give up yet. I’m not talking about buffs or debuffs. What I mean is… can this water be used to remove my Role?
[Negative.]
Or change it? I ask. Desperation is pooling in my gut, but I try to ignore it. Weaken it? Anything?
[Negative,] Echo says. [Life arcana cannot alter a user’s Role.]
Faint disquiet threatens to swell within me, but I brush it away. Is there anything I can do? I ask. Not just Life arcanum, but any kind of arcana that could change it?
[Affirmative,] Echo says, and the words fill me with relief. [The user’s role can be changed under specific circumstances.]
What circumstances? I ask.
[Successful remnal synthesis may result in the alteration in one’s role,] Echo says. [Additional options include—
She falls silent.
“What does that mean?” I ask, confusion mixing with my trepidation. “Synthesis? What are those errors? Echo?”
But she doesn’t answer. I glance at my stats: they’re all still there. But the Bonus HP is no longer ticking up, like I’m looking at a frozen computer screen. Something’s not right. She’s never not answered me before.
“Echo?” I ask again, voice tight.
[Interface reset,] she says, and for some reason, this fills me with relief. She’s not even a real person. I don’t know why I was worried. But this entire interaction still tinges me with unease. I consider trying to ask her about changing my Role again, but I worry that would trigger the same—or worse—response.
But one thing is clear: the Lifespring isn’t going to put a stop to my Role. I’m still bound to Quell, forced to protect him or pay with my sanity. I slump. I suppose there’s always the mages back in the Duneshade capital that might be able to help me. But somehow, I don’t think they’ll have any idea what to do about it either.
I tip my face to the moons, and let out a deep breath. I am stuck serving Quell. I won’t be able to leave him. My freedom is still tied to the life of someone else. I try to wrap my mind around these facts.
I feel disappointed, of course. Though not as disappointed as I think I should be. My autonomy is not my own. Yet, my resignation is more tired than bitter. I don’t want to be bound to someone else. But if it has to be anyone… Well, I guess there are worse people to be forced to protect.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
I turn back, looking at Quell. He’s seated cross legged at the edge of the springs, and has somehow produced a journal and charcoal. He pauses to dip a pinky into the water, then starts scribbling furiously in his notebook. I laugh quietly to myself. Yes, there are worse people.
I take a steadying breath, looking down at my hands. This isn’t the outcome I wanted, but I’m not done with the spring yet. There’s still a second curse I need to address.
Though the bond I have with the Crimson Aegis isn’t a curse, I suppose. It was some sort of pact I willingly initiated, even if I didn’t understand what I was agreeing to at the time.
Honestly, I’m not entirely sure I want to give it up. It’s creepy, but useful, and it’s kept me alive so far. But it’s also dangerous. Thirsty for conflict. It tried to kill innocent people, just because it saw them as new targets to be defeated. Even if it is useful, if I keep it around, it will only be a matter of time before I slip up and one of my allies is caught in the crossfire. It’s safer to end the pact now before that ever happens.
Besides, I already promised Constance I would hand it over if I could. If it’s a bargaining chip that buys me resources to find my brother, then giving it up will be more than worth it.
Do I think the Lifespring will actually help end the pact, though? After what just happened with Echo and my Role, I suspect not. But I’m here now, so I suppose I should at least try.
I summon the Crimson Aegis from my Inventory.
It appears on my arm with a splash. The Aegis looks around excitedly. What enemy do we face today? What feeble wretch is in need of our protection?
[Arcana buff applied to the Crimson Aegis,] Echo says.
I tip my head. That’s different. I didn’t know the shield itself could receive a buff. That’s pretty much the opposite of having an adverse effect on our bond.
The Aegis’s presence balloons within my mind. Ah! This energy—this power is excellent. It can feel itself growing stronger! Mightier. More formidable! No enemy will dare stand against us now!
I wince as the Aegis’s voice seems to boom through my head. Yep, it’s definitely not bothered by the water. Can the spring be used to corrode our bond? I ask Echo.
[Negative,] she says. [While Life arcanum is often used in the formation of such a pact between individuals, and can similarly be used to break it, the abilities of the Lifespring do not have such an effect.]
So what is the Lifespring doing to it? I ask.
[A mana buff has been applied.]
Show me, I say.
A new display appears beneath my current stats.
[Weapon: Crimson Aegis]
[Durability: 100%]
[Mana: 5]
[Blood: 1%]
[Influence: 2%]
As I watch, the Mana stat continues to jump up, and as it does, the Influence stat also increases. 2% becomes 3%. Then 5%. Then 9%.
The Aegis’s presence in my mind becomes more tangible. It’s elated. It needs more!
This isn’t right. I don’t know what these new metrics mean for the Aegis, but this clearly isn’t going to be the answer to severing our bond. If anything, it only seems to be making it stronger. I need to shut this down before it becomes a problem or anyone gets hurt.
The Aegis catches my thought, aghast. How could I think such things? It is not a problem! And there is nothing wrong with hurting things! Hurting is how it protects people. Why would I want to stop it from doing what it’s meant for? Its purpose? No! It has all this new energy and power—it can’t just let it go to waste! It needs to use it. It has to. It will not let me stop it from being what it is meant to be—doing what it is meant to do.
The pressure in my mind is getting worse. The Influence statistic has risen to 24%. I can still mentally push the Aegis’s mind away, but it’s growing steadily more difficult. Before it can get any worse, I put the Aegis in my Inv—
No!
Lines of the Aegis’s magic stab in my arm. I let out a cry as the red threads burrow into my skin, drawing blood which quickly dissolves into nothing as the Aegis laps it up.
“What the fuck!” I grab the lines with my free hand, trying to yank them free, but they’re as unyielding as cables of steel.
Add it to my Inventory, I think again. Put the Aegis in my Inventory!
[Access denied,] Echo says. [User may not add living things to their Inventory. User may not add self to Inventory.]
What the hell? Is the Aegis alive now? Or—no—just being connected to me means it’s connected to something living. Fuck. This is bad. This is really bad.
The Aegis is also upset. Why would I want to hide it away when it is meant to be proudly displayed? The nothingness is empty and silent and there is nothing in there to conquer at all! It hates being forced into that place. We made a pact. We agreed to work together to vanquish any who might challenge us. It will not continue to be discarded at my whims!
The Aegis’s thoughts are amplified into my mind, but so are its feelings. It’s frustrated, afraid, and strangely antsy. Like the building magic isn’t just empowering it, but overwhelming it—scattering its thoughts, which in turn is making it increasingly hard for me to think straight.
I spin back to the others, still obliviously healing their wounds and cleaning themselves up at the bank.
“Something’s wrong,” I call to them, wincing as water splashes over the wounds in my arm, stinging each puncture point. I can feel the magic trying to heal my skin, but the shield’s threads of magic won’t let it close.
Quell looks up, his gaze shifting over to the shield now on my arm. “What’s the matter?” he calls back. They’re only a couple dozen feet away, but now that feels far too close.
“It’s the shield,” I say. The Influence stat is 39% and rising. “It’s absorbing magic from the Lifespring, I think. It won’t let me put it away.”
Now the others are paying attention.
“Get out of the water,” Darian says. “That should stop it from absorbing any more.”
I lift up my arm, but the shield is so big that its lowest point is still beneath the surface. I grab an edge with my free hand and awkwardly try to lift it over my head. It’s uncomfortable, given the angle of my arm that’s still strapped—and now stabbed—to the shield, but I manage to pull it fully out of the water. The Mana and Influence stats slow, but don’t stop. It’s not enough to just be out of the Spring: I need to get away from it.
But there’s people in every direction. Will it lash out at anyone who gets within range? The Aegis is acting strange. Buzzing with energy and itching for an outlet. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it’s drunk. It will attack anyone it sees as a threat to me or my allies.
Though the Springs are still filling me with a healing warmth, I suddenly feel icy cold. A stone has settled in my gut, and my throat is tight. What do I do? I have to get out of this city, away from people. But I’m at its epicenter. This is bad. This is very bad.