Nyx dove off the bed and immediately began sketching a ritual circle.

Her ethereal touch shifted along the cursed surface of her name. It was intense and fuzzy. The combination of three cursed names having made it much more difficult to feel than before. Yet, her touch moved along the indistinct surface as if guided by some unknown force. A magnet tugging her towards three separate points.

As Nyx fell into her trance again, she sung the hymn of naming. She doubted it would tell much, but it was important to check regardless.

Unable to find any answers with her name — without tearing it open, but that would be a horrible idea in Tarchon’s home — she shifted her touch to Little God. The eyeball floated in the corner of the room without a word. Watching. Observing as it always did. Nyx skimmed her touch over his name and felt that she truly had lost that instinctual understanding of which valleys and hills detailed the preparedness for death.

But she could still feel those details.

Damn. I should have checked Little God’s count before I evolved.

Well, it wasn’t like it mattered if the observer had a million experiences, or only two like herself. She doubted it would answer much about why the creature was here.

But as she felt over its unreasonably long name, she felt a tug. It was the same tug she felt when touching her own name, but this didn’t lead to a specific point on the same name component she was inspecting. It led her down the chain. She followed the sensation, and eventually found herself feathering her ethereal fingers over a cursed name.

Her Feat’s sense no longer focused on a willingness to die. It, instead, had become enraptured with curses.

When she thought about it, the evolution made sense. She’d used the Feat almost exclusively to interact with her curses, so it wasn’t far-fetched that it would narrow on that focus when it integrated into the foundation of her being. It was still surprising to see her ward’s teachings unfold before her eyes… fingers… ethereal sense.

While the name additives one gained were still parts that made up a person and who they were, they were not their core. The base name — the heart of one’s soul — that was their true reflection. To incorporate an additive into a base name meant to accept the meaning of that name into who you were. Of course, not all aspects of that name connected; hence the loss of abilities. But in cases like this, the original utility of the name bent itself to fit the soul better.

So, of course, Nyx’s feat took on the aspect that defined her life. Curses. As much as she disliked it, her lives — both the past and present — were centred around curses.

It also made sense why her mutations felt more natural now; she’d accepted them into her soul.

Her ethereal touch could seek out and detect curses in names. She wasn’t sure how that would be helpful — cursed names were already detrimental to those who had them — but she was determined to figure something out.

As her fingers slipped across Little God’s curse, she was tempted to dig them in and try to pull it apart. As she did with her own names. But that thought didn’t even have the chance to fully complete before she crushed it.

The eyeball was a being beyond her understanding. It would invite chaos to attempt such even if it didn’t enrage the creature. There was a reason rituals with greater beings were approached with caution and immense preparation.

She would have to try on some poor, unsuspecting cultist later.

With how many enemies the upper creeds usually made, and how many curses they’d be struck with after those enemies had… unfortunate ends, Nyx could only imagine how useful being able to tear open their cursed additives might be. Though, she would need to be careful that the curses didn’t make them more dangerous, as hers did. Well, this assumed it was even possible.

Finally, the ritual reached its climax and her name appeared before her again.

Nỷx

Nỷx — Curse

Of course. What else was I expecting? A detailed description of what to expect from my evolution? Fate loves me too much.

Nyx snapped herself out of her meditation and broke the ritual circle. She knew her name would be labelled as cursed — her more intimate evolution selection made that clear — but she’d been hoping for something more helpful than just ‘curse’.

Despite how late it was, the bed didn’t look at all inviting. She’d used it in order to enact her evolution, but with the energy from the ritual, and now the excitement of having evolved, she felt not in the least tired. Her wings screamed to be let loose. Her eye stung at being unable to see. Nyx doubted even meditation would bring her near sleep now.

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Pocketing Tarchon’s tag again, she left the refinery.

Hopefully, the Technocultist didn’t expect her to stay there. She would come back when she was tired, but for now she couldn’t sit on her haunches. With her evolution done, she didn’t have to worry about additives blocking her progress. Nyx could finally begin her efforts towards the harbinger’s path.

After only five minutes of walking through an artery of Coral, she found a trolley station. It was surprising to find one so close to Technocultist territory considering they were a service from the Worshippers of the Machine God. Whatever the reason, she was glad for the convenience.

At the station, she peered down the tunnel not meant for human traversal. How long would she be waiting? Nyx had energy to burn for the first time in her life; she didn’t want to be waiting around forever. As she watched a flickering light at the end of the tunnel, she wondered if it would be better to search for beasts that might roam nearby. Yet, this area was Technocultist territory. She didn’t know when a member might jump out of the dark and spot her mutations when she tried to free them.

No, it was better to return to the surface and get a proper idea of where she was first. Then she could find somewhere to hunt some beasts.

Each time that single light blinked, it seemed to move. As she looked closer, the shadows stretched. Nyx got an eerie sense that the rate of flickering was increasing, but when she began to count, the numbers didn’t reflect her feeling.

It sucked her in and kept her eyes locked on the long, empty tunnel, and Nyx suddenly realised just how alone she was. She was familiar with the feeling of being isolated, but this was different. There was nobody at the trolley stop. It felt like there was no one around for miles. The longer she stared, the worse it got.

“Little… Eyeball.” She snapped her attention away to focus on the one being that was always with her. What was that reaction? She’d long since learnt to deal with solitude. She wouldn’t freak out, even if Little God wasn’t around; Nyx wouldn’t let herself. “Do you see anything down the tunnel?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“Which one? There are many down there, observing you.”

“Which-” she spun back to the tunnel, finding there was no longer any flickering light. Only darkness.

Nyx readied herself. Her gloves dropped into her pockets, and she was prepared to extend her claws at the first sign of trouble. She’d planned to fight once she was sure there was nobody to watch on, but if she was ambushed by creatures of the darkness, then she would just have to hope no cultists saw.

A loud horn blared and she leapt away from the rails just in time for the Trolley to roll into the station. It’s doors opened, inviting her in.

Glancing down the tunnel, she couldn’t spot anything but darkness. The Trolley’s lights burnt along the walls, but couldn’t penetrate its depths. She continued watching that darkness, but it didn’t dare seep out into the wider cavern of the station.

The folding doors of the trolley slammed shut, then opened again.

Taking the hint, she climbed aboard, only for the vehicle to jerk into motion immediately. Through the window, she watched as the trolley rocketed down the tunnel where the light had been. Faces flashed through the glass. Horrified visages of shadow and nightmare ripped apart by the rolling weight of the trolley and the light it carried.

Screams rang through in her ears. The thin set of folding doors were the only thing separating her from the phantoms. A thump made her leap back. In the light shining from the inside of the trolley’s cabin, was a hand-print of physical darkness pressing against the window.

It lasted a few moments longer, then everything returned to quiet.

Nyx assumed that was it, and things would calm now that she was away from the phantoms, but through the front window, she caught sight of a solid wall. A wall they were barrelling towards.

She leapt for one of the chairs, and held on tight. The chitin bent the frame slightly, but she was more worried with their imminent crash.

A crash that never came.

Instead, the world seemed to twist on its head, and she watched as the trolley broke and reformed as it turned a full ninety degrees upward. Gravity followed the trolley for a few seconds, before it slowly shifted back to what was properly ‘down’.

Nyx clung to her seat. Fitting herself so her back would hold her upright. She did that for an instant before she felt her spines start to slide through the rubber tubes she’d slid over the tips. The acceleration of the trolley was not helping when gravity was already trying to shove her further back into her seat.

One of the safe-zone trolleys would be really nice right now.

Any of the transport moving through the centre of the surface was tame. This was one of the trolleys that never came near; it was far more… unnatural. It was hard to tell if the trolley had been designed to operate like this, or if the corruption had simply twisted it and its rails to become as strange as it was. Well, when the Machine God Worshippers shoved some creature from the darkness into the trolley’s circuitry, it was bound to act in ways humans couldn’t predict.

But… it had brought her to her destination.

The intense light of the surface shone in through the windows as the trolley did another sharp ninety degree turn and jerked to a stop. The doors opened. When Nyx took more than a single second to gather herself and climb off the questionably-sapient vehicle, it snapped its folding doors twice.

Quite the personality for a box on wheels.

She stepped off, and the trolley was gone before she could look back.

There were enough half-flesh buildings in the area that she immediately knew she was in the Bodytwisters domain. At least the flesh didn’t move like in the Scriptures’ area. The Bodytwisters just liked to build with tissue; not live in something living.

Considering the feud between the Technocult and the Bodytwisters, it was suspicious that their territories were only a single trolley stop away. If you added how little the Machine God Worshippers liked either cult, well…

For now, Nyx wanted to make her way to the area around the Dark Star. It would give her plenty of cultists to observe, which she could hopefully use to learn about her altered sense before she dove into the depths and challenged something she probably shouldn’t.

She wouldn’t take long. Her wings demanded freedom.