104 PF
Continental Empire
Kingdom of Larnach
City of Adrach
Research Facility ‘Lock and Key’
0200 hours
The holding cell was a smooth, featureless white cube, the air inside dry and stale to the point of resembling a morgue. In the middle of it was an unconscious person dressed only in a plain hospital gown, their left ankle bound to the cold floor with a metallic shackle. They slowly awoke, looking around the pitch dark room with confusion and alarm. They tugged weakly at the chain, trying to stand up, but their legs failed them.
[“Subject is awake. Subject class: Ember. Initiating the Discindo procedure.”]
There was a distant medley of mechanical noise, of whirring and clicking and grinding, of vast objects moving and unfolding. The subject, meanwhile, looked within – beckoning the Spark that orbited their soul. It comforted them.
[“Sensor readings positive. Subject is interacting with the Spark.”]
Tentatively, they reached out with their hand to cast a spell. An orb of light, perhaps, fuelled by the energy of their soul and set in motion by the Spark. It did not matter. The procedure would continue.
[“Spell formation detected. Preparing the suppressors.”]
The subject was interrupted by a startling noise, something between an alarm and a buzzer. The walls detached from their place with a loud rumble and leaned back while the ceiling remained static. Four large oval-shaped devices then appeared from above and peeked into the cell, connected to bulky machinery that held them in the air in perfect symmetry. Their plates buzzed and pulsated with hostile energy, all pointed directly at the subject.
[“Activating.”]
The plates sent out a synchronous pulse of blinding intensity, making the subject writhe in debilitating agony. Another pulse came a few seconds later, not giving them a chance to recover or even breathe. This continued for exactly forty seconds – a carefully measured process of pulsing and hurting. There was nobody there to hear their screams.
[“Deactivating. Subject’s magical capabilities suppressed successfully.”]
The subject barely moved, splayed helplessly on the floor. They raised a trembling hand and attempted to use their Spark again… but nothing happened. No magical activity was registered, no matter how hard they tried. Despair and disbelief overtook their expression. They pleaded for help. It was noted.
[“Phase one complete. Preparing the Discindo machine.”]
The ceiling unravelled, small tiles detaching from each other and disappearing into the darkness. Moments later, a horrifying technological apparatus descended from the void, a monster of metal and wires and electricity with an enormous glowing maw.
[“Activating.”]
With a flash and a thunderous roar, the Discindo machine began its work. It bathed the subject in an excruciating glow, stripping their soul layer by layer until it reached the very core and found what it was looking for. It hurt too much to even scream.
[“Spark pinpointed. Starting the pull.”]
The subject’s body gravitated helplessly towards the mouth of the gigantic machine, the shackle keeping them suspended in mid-air. Operating at the peak of its power, the machine kept pulling harder and harder until it broke their ankle and their soul.
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[“Spark detached successfully. Retrieving.”]
There was a tiny flickering star in the air – the subject’s Spark, methodically and violently ripped out of their soul – that lingered for just a moment before the Discindo machine sucked it in and consumed it.
[“Spark retrieved. Subject soul condition is within valid bounds. Finalizing the Discindo procedure.”]
The machine shut down with one final blast, throwing the subject to the floor, and slowly retreated back into the void. In the following silence, with their body battered and their soul in tatters, they curled up on the floor and cried.
There were no tears.
----------------------------------------
The holding cell disassembled itself, floodlights switching on all across the chamber of the Discindo machine. In another room, a group of scientists and engineers watched the subject through multiple monitors broadcasting camera footage and showing energy sensor outputs. There was no joy or celebration. Most of them had lost friends or loved ones to the Sparkwielders; they were here for a reason.
“Sensor readings negative. Spark removed and contained. Discindo procedure completed successfully,” said one of the project leads in a monotone, matter-of-factly voice. The other one stood to his side, watching the graphs and stats on the terminal screens with a blank gaze. She didn’t realize she was biting her lip until it started bleeding. Nobody noticed.
The tense silence was broken by the head engineer’s approach, who squinted at the various diagnostic readings on his tablet before addressing the lead scientists.
“Dr. Kefal, Dr. Merelden,” he nodded to the man and the woman, “the machine looks to be in good condition, but we’re not sure what could happen to it after what you’ve put it through. Can you clear out the chamber now? I’ll send my people down to give it an overview.”
“Of course, Mr. Goldengate,” said Kefal, beginning to walk out of the observation room.
Merelden followed suit, but she spared a side glance at the other people in the room, searching their faces for any sign of doubt or regret after what happened in that cell. There was none.
The duo descended silently down several flights of stairs, past many heavily armed soldiers standing guard at every corner, and into the chamber itself. Two military personnel had already taken posts by the entrance, wielding bulky suppression devices, ready to detain the subject at a moment’s notice – who currently laid in a fetal position on the floor, shivering all over as if they were freezing.
“Subject status?” asked Kefal without even looking at his project partner. His steps were light and even, echoing gently across the chamber.
“You just had their Spark ripped out, Connor,” replied Merelden with a tone of disgust. “There will be severe, potentially permanent soul damage, let alone the psychological effects.”
“This was a test. The machine will be improved and the process will be perfected. We needed data.”
Merelden was ready to speak up again, all sense of professionalism draining in favour of anger – directed both at him and at herself – but she was stopped dead in her tracks when the subject stirred, flinched, and slowly sat up, gazing at the intruders with dim, not quite conscious eyes.
Merelden approached the poor thing, fighting off an overwhelming sense of guilt that was telling her to stay away. She kneeled down, took off her lab coat, and wrapped it around the subject – the intent of the gesture more sentimental than physical. They stopped shaking.
“Cassandra, what are you doing?!” barked Connor. “Stay away from the subject, they’re a–”
“They’re a what?” she interrupted, needles of hatred glimmering beneath her icey tone. “They’re one of us now, Connor. Wasn’t that the whole point of this?”
Connor scoffed and walked away, beginning to make an array of extremely important phone calls in light of the test’s success. He did not think once about the subject’s condition – he knew there were always more Sparkwielders to test on.
“I… I’m sorry,” said Merelden to the subject. She knew it could never be enough.
The subject, not showing any sign of understanding her words, simply collapsed into her lap and fell soundly asleep. She checked for a pulse, found a slow, frail heartbeat, then held them tightly. This was not part of the procedure.
“It’s better this way, for all of us,” she said, though she didn’t believe it any longer.
Twinkle, twinkle, little star
How I wonder what you are
Up above the world so high
Like a diamond in the sky