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The Black Spot
Ch 4 Fair? Fair Folk?

Ch 4 Fair? Fair Folk?

Jem opened his eyes and the priest was looking at him expectantly. Was I supposed to be doing something?

“Sorry, what did you say?” Jem averted his eyes and looked elsewhere. He couldn’t tell for sure but it seemed like the ritual was almost done, at least from the empress’ side. The chest was on its side and empty, barring a crown of roses.

“Children never listen. ‘Running an empire will take tons of paperwork’ but no, don't listen to little old me. I said, did you get the skills?”

“Yes all the ones you mentioned apart from fast thinking or think fast, whatever it was. It says that I’ve used my general skill slots up?” Said Jem.

“That’s good news. It means that now we can focus on levelling up your skills. I wanted to work on my healing skill levels anyway.”

“That’s not ominous.”

“I’m glad we agree. Just practise your skills for now. We’ll stop when its time for your part in the ritual.”

Jem sat cross legged and closed his eyes. He allowed distractions to fade away and focused on his breath. As he breathed in he felt rejuvenated and as he breathed out his thoughts blew away. Sensations tore into him, fire, lightning, and holes marred his flesh, but they faded away.

It felt like mere moments before his arm was shaken and he was brought back to attention. It was strange that where pain didn’t get through to him the shaking did. Maybe it’s [Pain Reduction].

Jem thought to check his skill levels. They all displayed one notification after another. Jem wondered if he could group them by skill. The view changed.

*Ding* Pain Reduction has reached Lvl 4 … Lvl 8

*Ding* Flame Retardant has reached Lvl 4 … Lvl 6

*Ding* Lightning Resistance has reached LvL 3 … Lvl 5

*Ding* Meditation has reached Lvl 3 … Lvl 6

*Ding* Clear of Mind has reached Lvl 3 … Lvl 5

*Ding* Mind Over Matter has reached Lvl 3 … Lvl 5

*Ding* you have unlocked the general skill [Damage Smamage] (A) Lvl 0 You’ve taken a truly ridiculous amount of damage. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger is a lie. Usually.

General skill slots exceeded. You will automatically gain further slots when you reach Lvl 20 in your starter class.

Would you like to replace a general skill with [Damage Smamage] (A)? Y/N

Jem wondered what was different about the skill that meant it came with a sort-of-but-not-really description while the other’s didn’t. Its my first skill since getting [Analyse Skill]. He really wished there were a guide for all this.

The notification started blinking an a timer appeared next to it. Y/N Time: 3.23 hours.

Jem selected Yes.

Before he could regret it Jem replaced [Running] with [Damage Smamage]. Unaided cardio. Jem consoled himself with the fact that a skill would probably make running less worthwhile from a cardio perspective. He really hoped he wasn’t wrong.

Running was the lowest ranked skill aside from [Identify] which was also F rank but that seemed useful. Jem wondered what the letter grading represented. A rarity or how valuable it was, or some other metric he was unaware of?

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

The shaking on his arm increased in ferocity.

“You have to do your part in the ritual now. Go stand in the center there.”

Jem obediently walked over to the center of the ritual, taking care to avoid stepping on any of the lines. He did not want to be responsible for making the ritual fail.

The empress spoke to the priest who then translated for Jem.

“Take this knife and cut open your palm.”

The empress handed Jem the knife hilt first. Not that it felt especially poignant at that moment. He was literally about to cut himself open.

He took a breath like he was entering into meditation and sliced into his hand. He was aware of the pain but he let it go.

“Drip your blood onto the powder.”

Jem opened his hand and watched his blood flow through his fingers. I’m remarkably calm right now.

[Self Aware]

You are dissociating, your dimensional mark is 0.0054% charged.

That would do it. Not calm, just disconnected, didn’t even need a spell for it this time. The evolutionary advantages of dissociation. I’d kill for a drink right now.

Jem’s blood soaked into the glimmering blue powder, painting it a rusty brown. The darkness spread out along the lines of the ritual until it was all touched by flecks of his blood. The priestess moved. Her sigil was gigantic. It was even larger than the ritual on the floor. She aligned the sigil with the rust-brown ritual lines and moved it down. Sweat was glistening on her face. The purple sigil lines melted into the ritual and dust glowed a bright orange.

Orange lines seared into Jem’s eyes. Then his consciousness winked out.

Jem heard the sound of clopping hooves. Monks were singing lines of scripture. Discordant howls and words that shattered his mind and reshaped it whispered into his ears. Sharp teeth bit into him, tearing off his flesh.

Cats the size of houses with intelligent eyes prowled towards him. They lapped at his blood, their sandpaper tongues tearing the flesh from his bones. Fairies held him down and carved words of power into his skin. Bones crunched in stone teeth.

A crown of sharpened thorns was placed upon his head.

A voice that smelled like springtime and tasted of rot whispered into his ear. “Tell me child, what is your name?”

He tried to speak but purple sigils bound his tongue.

Chittering fairies tore off his skin and snapped his bones. Then purple sigils flooded into him and the process began anew.

….

A crown of daisies was placed upon his head.

A voice that glimmered like diamonds spoke. “Tell me child, what is your name?”

….

A crown of glass was placed upon his head.

A voice of blood and ash spoke. “Tell me child, what is your name?”

….

A crown of cold iron was placed upon his head.

A voice that clashed like blades spoke. “Tell me child, what is your name?”

….

A crown of cosmic dust and starlight was placed upon his head.

A voice of ice and snow crunching underfoot spoke. “Tell me child, what is your name?”

….

Trillions of years passed in seconds. Hundreds of billions of languages were etched, tattooed and painted onto his skin. Teeth tore and tongues tasted.

A crown of roses was placed upon his head.

A voice that tasted like summer wine spoke. “I have no need for your name for the price has been paid in blood.”

No purple sigils held his tongue, but Jem did not speak.

A wicked smile rested on the face of a cruel queen. “Begone child.”

– – – –

Jem lay on the ground in a heap.

“What did you do to me?” Said Jem.

“We have bestowed upon you a boon.” The empress spoke, and Jem understood her words. Not just understood, but felt them, it was a lie garnished with truth.

Jem stood and spoke.

“A truth you do not believe. A boon for I and you but you more than I. A price paid, in my blood alone. That is truth. My guide spoke of your gain, but not truly of mine. That is the truth I know.” Jem coughed. What?

The empress rounded on the priest. “Mum, why would you tell him that?”

No one’s going to comment on that? Mum?

“Because Nessa dear. Lying by omission is not a nice thing to do. Nor is extorting someone. If anything you owe him.” The priest crossed her arms.

Jem was starting to like that woman.

The empress’s face flushed. “I owe him?”

“I’m glad we agree sweetie. Now–”

The emperor started laughing. It came to a swift halt when the empress’ expression turned murderous and her eyes locked on him. The priestess, Jem and Syr attempted to keep their faces straight.

Then Jem threw up. He felt ten eyes fall onto him.

Twin lumps sprouted on his brow.

Jem felt his ankles buckle and snap.

He screamed.

His horns slammed into the floor, protecting is face, jostling his brain in the process.

His teeth tore out of his mouth and blood dribbled down his chin.

Sharp teeth tore out of his gums.

This time Jem was less polite.

“What the fuck did you do to me?”

Darkness flirted at the edge of his vision.

The empress, no Nessa said. “That’s not my fault. How was I supposed to know he had fae blood? At least he won’t look so weird anymore.”

“Nessa that's not– Just apologise.” Said the priest.

You’re just as complicit you old hag.

“But muuum,” said Nessa, “fine.”

Jem heard stomping feet.

“I’m–”

Jem didn’t hear the rest of her sentence.