When the last of Nix’s ward-mates received their names, the onomastician cast a glance her way before striding off to the nearest tunnel entrance. He was the first to leave; not interested in waiting around while the cult prospectors spoke with the few to be selected.

Soon, they left too. Followed by less than a handful of teens that had won the jackpot with their names.

They were the ones the cults wanted to impress, rather than the other way around. Each would return to the Rearing Ward in a few days, with a wealth of knowledge gifted to them. Their future options would expand drastically. Everyone else’s would narrow.

Nix remember each of the those walking after the cultists being the ones that dominated in the Trials. Was that because of their names? Or was the guidance given to them just that important?

Regardless, she would need to be a completely different person by the time she met them there. And she would meet them there.

She turned back to her ward-mates.

Only the disappointed remain.

That boy who’d thrown blame her way had come back at some point. Nix had only noticed from his constant glances her way. It seemed he still blamed her. That wouldn’t be bad in itself, but he was surrounded by Grif’s friend group. Not a single one of them looked happy. They were usually the most crude of the boys, occasionally willing to tempt the ‘contagiousness’ of her curses to mess with the weakest in the ward.

Well, it was all childish bullying. Nix hardly even cared for it anymore, not when she’d experienced treatment far worse at the hands of the cultists. In fact, she didn’t even remember them attempting anything after the ceremony. So there was probably nothing to worry about. Especially with them all currently envious of Grif.

She let out a sigh of relief that it didn’t go as badly as it could have. Her naming had been a spectacle and nobody would forget what her name meant, but not going last certainly had a beneficial effect on everyone’s attention.

Last time, she’d crumbled under the hundred eyes while tears spilled from her own. Nix’s body was already weak, the last thing she wanted was to show she was weak on the inside too.

With the ceremony out of the way — and A̱l'Darvi thankfully not stoking his curiosity — Nix was ready to enjoy the rest of the day. The next few hours were all hers to enjoy. Curfew began when the thick mists seeped out from the Bodytwisters’ temple and the subtle whispers chimed from within Coral.

But before she could leave her ward-mates — who were already gathering in small groups themselves to do the same — K’tan stopped her.

“Are you okay, Nix?”

She repressed a sneer at his ingenuine concern. No one who cared, as he so intently made it seem, would do what he did.

Oh, but how can I think of you so harshly? It’s obvious you gave me to those cults for my protection, after all. Your increased creed was just an unfortunate happenstance.

Even as she struggled to keep a straight face, Nix found his choice of name insulting. He now knew her full name — or at least what should have been her true name at this point in time — yet he chose to refer to her as her base name alone on naming day.

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She remembered it not bothering her last time; her name hadn’t been something she wanted to celebrate, after all.

But it was true that to hate one’s name meant to hate oneself. It… had taken a very long time for Nix to understand that. For years, her name, on top of her curses and mutations, had been nothing but a source of resentment. In a way, they were all one and the same. And for a good chunk of her life, she’d hated being called Nix.

She didn’t think that way anymore.

Nix was her name. It wasn’t the cause of her mistreatment. No, that blame lay in the hands of her murderers. Nor could she deny that it was a reflection of herself.

With this new start, she wanted to create a better life for herself, and the only way to do that was to not deny who she was. Nix-ine-oth. The cursed one. While it was impossible to ever truly get over her mutations because of how directly they influenced peoples perceptions, her name was something she had accepted.

So as K’tan used the name her previous self preferred, Nix found herself bound by frustration. She desired to lash out at this man for the betrayal, but knew he was too strong. She knew her attempts would not harm him. Any attempt would just be seen as her lashing out from a bad ceremony.

Not yet.

“I know this isn’t what you wanted.” K’tan was confusing her frustration and suppressed hatred for despair. “But don’t give up hope. If you work for your next name, I’m sure your luck will turn around.”

Nix wanted to laugh in his face. Her next name meant the exact same thing, and would likely occur for any additive she gained. The only chance she had to move beyond being labelled as cursed by her very name itself, was to evolve and condense it.

That, or a Feat. A unique additive from an impressive achievement. Not that those were likely without any foundation to work from.

“I am okay, Overseer K’tan-thar.” She wasn’t, but she would be when he left her alone. “I think I’m just going to wander the topside for a while… to gather my thoughts.”

The man seemed surprised, and it didn’t take long for Nix to realise it was her use of his title. She’d never spoken to him so formally. It had always just been K’tan casually, then the same shortened name but hatefully.

In her effort to come across as unaffected, Nix had referred to him with his full name. She winced slightly, and tried not to let her gaze follow the floating eye that circled the man’s head, staring quizzically into his soul. He never noticed the little monster, nor did Nix expect him to. But he did back down from his attempts to comfort her.

“Alright then.” He said. “Stay within the accretion’s light, and be back before first fog.”

With his stilted tone and disappointed gaze, anyone would think he was just a caring adult that worried for his charges. Not Nix. She knew the monster hidden beneath the mask.

She didn’t wait for another word. In moments, she was racing down the streets to get away from the man she once trusted. To escape the depression and childish blaming of those who’d had their lifelong dreams crushed with a single ritual.

Low, roofless buildings, ritual courtyards and other open spaces passed Nix by as she ran for the nearest trolley. That conversation had been too much. She wanted to get as far from the man as she could without veering into the more corrupted areas of Coral.

Despite the cults’ common need to work in darkness, anyone who could live on the topside, would. It was always better to feel the burning heat in one’s skin, than accidentally glance into the abyss and find something looking back.

She was relieved to see the trolley stop already had one sitting in its bay, ready to leave. Like much of the other equipment in the safe zone, it was completely free of corruption. All old tech, designed to work without the influence of monsters and gods.

Once, Nix had been told that Coral hadn’t always been touched in the way it was. There was a time when it was all old tech, and nothing else. She struggled to imagine how it was possible. The safe zone itself created so many problems that could only be fixed with the existence of the outer regions. Food wouldn’t grow here. Plus, it was simply harder to do everything. One couldn’t summon a bound monster to scrub at windows and clean toilets, after all. Anything you wanted to do had to be done manually. Or with the often unreliable old tech.

There weren’t many kids in the Wards that wanted to stay there long after their naming. Nix was no different.

“Why do you lie?”

As she stepped aboard the ancient trolley, words like static once more made her jump. A man and a woman already seated glanced up at her.

The eye floated right before her face, its emotionless stare intense.

Right. Nix still had to deal with this thing.