Soulburned : The School of Souls

Chapter 5 : Marked

Lyra's ears began to pop as she and Master Hur descended deeper into the Iris's catacombs. The stone walls of the spiral staircase were close, causing the air to turn oppressive as they circled ever downwards. Lyra struggled to contain her panic. She'd never been good in tight spaces.

"How much further is it, Master Hur?"

"We're almost there," the lanky man said, "The tunnels will get wider once they start cutting into the mountain."

Hur conjured a lantern, like most conjured objects it was made of purple mist. Its flame was blue, like the Soul-lights of the Library above. If you weren't looking at the lantern directly, it appeared as if Hur was dangling a flame below his hands by some visible string. The ethereal nature of conjured materials caused them to be invisible in periphery.

The silence in the cramped space was deafening. All sounds of the battle and alarm had ceased when the heavy Catacomb doors slammed shut, all that remained where the pairs echoing footsteps.

I need to breathe! Lyra thought.

They were still moving downwards, just not at a great speed. The walls and ramp changed from rough stone blocks to smooth tiles, their surfaces reflective enough to brighten the slightly less narrow hallway Hur and Lyra now found themselves in.

Lyra relaxed slightly as the space continued to increase.

"Have you considered where you'll be staying? Most first years stay in the dormitories, but with your father's position, I think-"

"I'll be staying in the Tower." Lyra cut him off flatly.

"Right. Good!" Hur said, "I'll see to the arrangements while you're in your Trial."

Lyra blinked.

"Trial? Declan didn't mention a trial... just the entrance exam."

"Well, no, he wouldn't have mentioned it. It's forbidden to discuss the Trials with prospects."

Lyra frowned.

"Why?" she asked.

"We'd attract fewer prospects if applicants knew they knew it was potentially... fatal."

"You mean the Mark? I thought that's why you did the exams... to ensure prospects had the required capacity for Logos."

"Well, yes, some consider the Marking the first Trial...but there are more, and they are dangerous for all, not just the ignorant. "

Lyra frowned.

"People aren't ignorant just for failing your tests." She said, "There's plenty of reason to fail beyond stupidity, and you're not even considering those who chose not to participate."

"No, of course not." Hur said, ". I mean only to say that the Trials are deadly, Lyra. The Iris's entire existence is to prepare Soulmancers for these Trials. If we could just conjure up more casters... we would. The Trials are required, but to go into them unprepared would be suicide. "

"What is the nature of the Trials?" Lyra asked.

Declan would have stopped me from doing this if he thought it would kill me... right?

"All will become clear once you enter the Sanctum of Logos."

They continued descending into the dark.

Lyra's claustrophobia abated a little as the walls began to widen. Soul-lights began appearing on the walls in sconces, and Hur dismissed his conjured lantern.

"Here we are," Hur said as they rounded another corner.

Lyra's breath caught in her throat.

'Here', was a large, circular chamber. More sconces lined the wall, brightly lighting what would have otherwise been impenetrable darkness. Three large metal doors, identical to the ones at the entrance of the catacombs were placed into the wall, breaking the room into thirds. One of silver, one of gold, and one of copper. Like those above, each door was adorned with one of the three Soulmancy Marks. The Thymos-marked door was the same as the one above, ruined and destroyed. Thick silver and gold chains stretched across its surface, conjoining into a crystalline lock at the center of the Mark.

A few paces in front of each door, there was a sculpture, each one unique.

The fixture in front of the Wizard's Door was a beautiful obsidian fountain. Silver liquid flowed from the top of the fountain into a large basin below. The basin was overflowing with the liquid, pouring over the rim in several places. The liquid evaporated before it hit the floor.

In front of the Mage's Door was a large, obsidian stone. Golden veins of ore spiderwebbed throughout the stone and glinted in the Soul-light. Affixed to the stone was a gigantic golden anvil. A golden hammer hung from its horn, dangling by a leather strap.

Before the Sorcerer's Door was a forge. A large copper framed bellows was suspended from the ceiling, surrounding a massive obsidian firepot, which itself was embedded in a copper pedestal. The forge had clearly once been an intricate and beautiful thing, but now it lay ruined. Desecrated glyphs covered the pedestal, their runes no longer legible. Large cracks wove around the firepot where something had once been inlaid. The bellows were ripped and cut, no longer able to build pressure.

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A line of colored tiles originated at the foot of each door, then spiraled around the chamber toward its center, creating an intricate mosaic on the floor. In the center of the room, resting on the heart of mosaic spirals was a Brazier of ever-burning Void-fire.

"The Soul-Smithy," Hur said. "Where humanity once forged great weapons to use against the Accursed... Placed here by the Void centuries before the first stone of the Iris had even been cut... It was the seat of our power, right up to the Betrayal."

Lyra drank in the splendor of the chamber.

"Come," Hur said, then strode over to the fountain.

Lyra followed.

When Hur reached the fountain, he stopped, rested one hand on the fountain, then closed his eyes in concentration. A silvery goblet appeared in his hands. He handed it to Lyra, then conjured another. He then dipped his in the fountain, filling it with the silvery liquid. He beckoned for Lyra to do the same.

Lyra filled her goblet. The liquid was lighter than she expected, the goblet felt almost empty as she held it between her fingers.

"This is Logos in physical form," Hur said.

Lyra raised her eyebrows in surprise and cringed away from the goblet.

"This is someone's soul?" Lyra said, horrified. "Do you take me for a Kovite!?"

Hur shook his head.

"A soul is made of Logos, Eros, and Thymos. They are not made of souls. A house is made of bricks, Lyra, bricks are not made of houses."

Lyra peered tentatively into the conjured goblet.

"Drink. The influx of Logos will stretch your Soul. It will be painful, but our testing has ensured you have the capacity."

Lyra began to raise the goblet to her lips her hand trembling slightly.

"Be sure this is what you want, Lyra. Once you drink this, there is no going back. You'll be enrolled in the Iris to develop your gift. If you fail to develop, you will die. If you give up, you will die. If you do everything correctly and manage to graduate, you may still die. All property, title, and rank will be forfeited. You will no longer be Lyra, heir of House Mornstag, you will be a Soulmancer."

Lyra drank.

The silver liquid burned her throat as she swallowed, and she felt pressure begin to build behind her forehead. Her temples felt like they were going burst open, she imagined her brain and silver liquid exploding out of her skull.

Hur poured the silver liquid from his goblet over Lyra's head, chanting softly in a language she didn't understand. He pressed the tip of his finger against her forehead and ceased chanting.

Lyra felt like something was tearing at her skin where Hur had touched it. The skin of her forehead began to split, causing blood to begin dripping off her brow and mix with the vile liquid. She tried to scream but her throat was still burned from the liquid, turning her shriek into a ragged cough. She doubled over in pain, bracing herself against the fountain.

I'm going to pass out!

Searing pain continued to crawl across her forehead, carving a pattern into her flesh.

I'm going to die!

In an instant, it was over. The pain was gone. She could breathe. She filled her lungs with air greedily.

Her mind was suddenly clearer than before. Her thoughts seemed to flow... easier. Her senses sharpened slightly and she became aware of the oppressive pressure of the mountain on top of her, but she did not panic.

"Well done, Lyra."

"Void..." Lyra gasped.

"Catch your breath. The Trial is about to start."

"Start!? That wasn't it?"

"Look into the fountain, Lyra."

Lyra clawed back to standing, prying herself off the tiles by pulling herself up the fountain. She peered into the silver liquid, expecting some psychedelic vision or mental awakening to assault her.

Instead, she saw only her reflection.

Her auburn hair was drenched from her anointment, her hazel eyes were bloodshot from being burned, and streaks of blood seeped slowly from thin lines cut into her forehead. Three tangent circles, all nestled inside a third. Glyph Frames for what would become her Wizard Mark.

"No two Marks are the same." Hur said, "Your actions in the Trials will affect the specific runes that will make up yours. Each glyph represents one of the three attributes of Logos. Intelligence, Wisdom, and Willpower. Once you enter the Logos Sanctum, you'll be trialed three times. Once for each attribute. Your Mark will continue to develop as you take these, and additional trials throughout your time in the Iris."

Lyra felt exhausted like she had just run in a footrace. This was a lot of information all at once.

"What I refuse to take the Trials?"

"Then the excess Logos you've just absorbed will slowly eat away your Soul until there's nothing left. You need the Mark to vent the pressure. These first three will be the most important, and many Wizards need no further Trials to prevent being consumed by Logos... however the greater a Wizard's potential, the more Trials that will be required. You, like your brother, are quite the promising prospect."

Of course I am, and of course Declan was.

She loved Declan, but it seemed that even in the Iris she'd have trouble escaping her family's legacy.

"You must start now. You don't have long."

Hur led her through the nearby Logos-marked door, revealing a small ante-chamber and another large Logos door. Lyra could feel a... presence... to this door. Something beyond it was pulling her forward.

"This is the entrance to Logos Sanctum. Place your hands here, and here." He pointed at two different sub-glyphs on the bottom circle of the Marked door. "This is the Intelligence Glyph. Try to channel into it, with your basic Glyph frame, you should now be able to manipulate the flow of Logos, if only slightly.

Lyra placed her hands on the Glpyh and furrowed her brow in concentration.

She could feel it. Silver bands of Logos danced through her head, she probed them with her mind and found that she could shift them. Carefully, she pulled at a strand of the Logos. It was as if she was teasing a thread of yarn. Slowly, a thread of Logos separated from the mass of power, she then poured it out of herself, channeling it down her spine, into her shoulder, and out through her fingertips. It was instinctual.

The door began to open, then slammed shut. Lyra gasped as her Logos snapped back into her, like a rubber band. The mental impact sent a shiver through her arm and put her teeth on edge.

"Fantastic Lyra, try again." Hur said and clapped her on the back, "Now, focus. Cut off the flow of Logos once it fills the Glyph. Don't overfill it or it'll rebound again."

Lyra squared her shoulders and tried again.

It was faster this time, once again she split off a portion of her Logos, and poured it into the Glpyh. She could feel a pressure building in her fingertips, so she slowed, then severed the thread of Logos before it could snap back at her.

The door opened, revealing pitch-black darkness. To Lyra's increased sensitivity, it seemed that the light of the Soul-lights seemed somehow unwilling to go beyond the doorway.

Hur nodded in approval.

"Your Trial has started. Good luck Lyra."

"I'm not sure that-"

Hur shoved her unceremoniously through the opening.