Gods, is it real? Is it even possible? What power can they achieve by using such an abominable process?

Final transcript of Prisoner Study #666.

Mat limped out of the river, the head of the damn fish still hanging on his leg. After decapitating the fish, by some kind of reflex the jaw had closed with even more force. Grunting he sat down on the bank, his back against a root bigger than himself. Sinking his sword into the ground, he drew his dagger. The fish's jaw was big enough to hold his entire thigh between its teeth lengthwise, but only about three-wide. Mat had never seen a fish like this.

Gently lifting the fish's jaw, he managed with some difficulty to make it release its grip. The blood began to flow, the complexion pale, the lip tight Mat made a weave to slow down his blood pressure. He took off the bottom of his armour and his trousers. Taking out from one of the inner pockets of his armour some sewing thread, and some clean, albeit wet, cloth, he began to sew up the most important wounds on his thigh. When he had finished he wrapped his thigh with a bandage. When he was satisfied he put his clothes back on. He sheathed his sword at his hip and looked around.

From the direction of the current, he was standing on the mountainside of the river Tua. There were no ships on the horizon, but given the amount of commercial traffic on the Tua, Mat wasn't worried that a ship would arrive soon enough. Whether it was friendly was another matter entirely.

The water shuddered, and a dozen or so of the same poison heads that Mat had just dislodged from his leg came croaking out of the water.

- Fuck!

They weren't fish, or else they were bloody weird poisons with arms and legs. They had frog faces, sharp little teeth, lots of them, greenish complexion and beard, big heads, their waists reaching at least to Mat's torso. They looked like old humans, with webbed feet instead of hands and a fishy tail.

As he stumbled back Mat felt a buzzing sound, his head ached as if he heard a noise too loud.

- To me! To me!

- He has killed the little one!

- Good meat!

- What's that? Not like the bad thing.

- Almost, different.

- Ate!

- YES!

Mat swore again and limped back further into the forest, the monsters following him.

- Back! He shouted at them

- It speaks!

- The not bad thing speaks!

- He killed the little one!!

- Ate!

- YES!

There were too many of them, and more were coming, coming out of the water and towards him, there were too many for Mat to defeat. Mat slashed at one of the approaching creatures.

- Argggg!

- Bad cutting thing!

- Killed! Killed!

The creatures all ran after him, jumping on him. Mat defended himself as he backed away, he couldn't let them catch him or he would be dead. He cut off the face of the first one that came, he cut off the second and the one that came after him. Mat weaved in his legs and jumped back, narrowly avoiding four of the creatures that had jumped at him. More came, Mat positioned himself to decapitate the monster coming from the left, he pirouetted and sliced the one he had shown his back to.

Mat took a look. There was no end to the number of monsters. He must have attracted the whole tribe. He retreated deeper into the forest, fighting the swarm of creatures. He would have been dead long ago if it were not for the use of weaving. So he sliced, he slit, cutting up the monsters that came like a swarm. Mat began to lose himself in the fight, blood pounding in his ears, some of the monsters were reaching for him, their clawed hands tearing at his armour, some deep enough to draw his blood.

Mat was getting tired, his heart was pounding, his lungs burning, his prism pulsing. The forest began to darken, after a while he could barely see the monsters, just moving shadows, but he could smell them. They smelled like rotting water, like rotting fish. He cut the monster's arm, it screamed, Mat kicked it with his heel, crushing its head, and then stepped back again. Then silence.

The creatures were still there, Mat could see their shadows, see their eyes burning like hot coals, they hadn't stopped staring at him. But they were no longer moving. Mat retreated further into the forest, retreating slowly, then faster and faster, breathless. Why had they stopped? Mat was confused about a few things. And then he realised it. The silence. There was not a single sound, not one of the noises one would expect from such an ancient and vibrant forest.

Yet Mat don't back away, he didn't have the energy to fight the monsters that had chased him, so he went further into the forest, probably into the territory of another monster, one dangerous enough to have frightened his pursuers. All his senses on the alert Mat tried to see and hear everything around him, lowering the intensity of his breath he made himself as quiet as possible.

He walked in silence for an indeterminate time, fatigue threatening to finish him off, yet he did not stop. He passed into an even darker part of the forest and as he was about to take another step forward he froze. Slowly he looked up, Mat swallowed the curse he had on the edge of his lips, far above him the forest was lined with cobwebs, making Mat suspect the forms of the owners of the area.

The cobwebs were extensive enough to go from tree to tree, their owner must have been as large as the wyvern that was the cause of his troubles.

Keeping an eye on the top of the forest Mat advanced cautiously, hoping to get out of the territory of what would probably be huge spiders quickly. He didn't know whether to hope that it was a single giant spider that was the source of all his spider webs or a swarm of smaller ones, though certainly still large enough to devour him. If there were several he was more likely to be seen and caught, but a single gigantic one had its own horrific significance.

Even as he did not know how he had not collapsed from exhaustion Mat spotted what he thought were ruins in the distance. With a hope don't thinking yet possess again, he quickened his pace. He hoped he could find a corner of the ruins where he could take shelter, having not yet come across any spiders on the ground despite having been in the area too long Mat assumed that the monsters preferred to stay near the treetops. Zarune had told him that the canopy had its ecosystem, made up of small animals, unlike the ground where the real masters and behemoths of the forest reigned. It was one of the few things she told him, she didn't usually try to start a conversation with him, and himself didn't like to start a conversation, though in his case it was probably more because of unease and a general lack of social need.

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Mat smiled, this whole situation smelled devilishly adventurous, he enjoyed it. The adrenaline of battle, the feeling of danger overcome and still breathing when death was so close. Mat continued to move forward, even though he could enjoy the danger, he would only allow himself to enjoy it once he was in relative safety.

Finally, he reached his goal, it was indeed a ruin, whether he could find a hole to hide in while he regained his strength remained to be seen. In reality, the further he went, the less hope he had about that. It was only old stones covered with roots and rotting leaves. He searched for nearly fifteen minutes, minutes he could not afford. Still keeping an eye on the canopy he saw the hole hidden by a mass of roots and twigs only too late.

His foot sank to his hip, his injured thigh scraped against a root, Mat held back the scream that had come to his mouth. As the pain came in waves Mat hoped that his wounds would not become infected. The augmentation allowed for better control of his humanitarian defences, but even then there was always the risk of infection. Once the pain became controllable again Mat prepared to silently disengage himself before stopping.

The hole he had fallen into was not just a hole, and Mat carefully got to his knees before starting to move the roots that were blocking the way. At last, his luck was changing.

Mat gave a quiet laugh as he cleared enough access for him to squeeze through. It was more than a hole between two roots, Mat could feel a staircase under his boots, a staircase leading down into the darkness. There could be anything down there, Mat just hoped it wasn't spiders.

After descending a few steps he realised something he hadn't thought of. It was dark and he had nothing to use as a torch, despite the flint he had prepared for occasions like this.

Mat had to retrace his steps and get out of the hole he had entered. Back in the forest under the threatening cobwebs, Mat went in search of a root that could be used as a torch. Soon enough he found what he was looking for, using moss for fuel he prepared several torches. He had to hurry, it was getting harder and harder to see into the forest, soon it would be as dark as the hole he was going to hide in.

Once back on the stairs Mat took a sip of water from his canteen. There was little water left, he would have to save it and then he set about lighting a fire. After a few minutes of struggling to make a decent enough torch, he sighed with satisfaction.

Ahead of him was an old but still serviceable staircase, after only a few steps he came to a corridor made of stone. Thankful that it was not collapsed Mat immediately noticed something disturbing. Barely ten metres further on he could see something glowing. Approaching cautiously Mat stopped just in front of a luminescent wall.

This one was opaque, Mat could see they are something behind it, but not what it was, this light looked like a barrier. And that's what it was, Mat noticed, he could recognize the effect of a weave, even if he couldn't see the weave itself.

Mat didn't even know it was possible to weave something permanent like this.

Cautiously he pushed his torch against the barrier. The torch sank into the barrier, Mat pulled his hand back, the torch returned with no obvious change in his eyes. Mat took a second to think before pushing his left hand against the barrier.

As his hand touched the barrier he felt a cold draft, while the air in the forest was not humid its temperature was still pleasant. The feeling in his hand was like entering a well-insulated cellar. Bringing his hand to himself he checked for any change. Noticing nothing he moved on.

Crossing the barrier he noticed only a fleeting feeling of coldness. He was in a corridor, the barrier still glinting at his back. The temperature had dropped significantly, but not to the point of being uncomfortable. He retraced his steps, checking to see if he could get out, coming back to the other side of the barrier, the warmth of the air on his skin. Deciding to explore this place to find a place to rest he crossed the fence again.

Mat took another step forward, surveying his surroundings, as he did so globes embedded in the walls lit up. Mat paused before moving closer to one of the globes, this one was the size of his hand and gave off a soft light, every few feet there was another one, their light illuminating part of the corridor, leaving the corridor a dozen feet away in shadow. Mat assumed that his globes were reacting to his presence and lighting up.

Smiling, Mat reached out to retrieve the globe of light in front of him, pulling on it, the young man finally frowned in disappointment. The globe of light was embedded in the wall.

Not yet discouraged Mat placed his still-lit torch next to the others he had prepared before drawing his dagger. After several minutes of scratching the stone around the light globe without making a mark Mat gave up. Looking at the tip of his dagger and noticing that it was slightly dull he gave a nasty look at the wall before sheathing it.

Giving up for the moment Mat picked up his torches, the one he had lit had eventually burnt out, the torches he had made were not exactly an example of skill Mat was not surprised. Walking down the corridor and seeing that the lights were on as he passed, he didn't take the time to light another one.

Progressing slowly, the lethargy that followed a day of effort began to become more and more insistent. After a few minutes of walking Mat came to an arch surrounded by carved patterns. Drawing his sword in case Mat enters the room.

The same globes set into the walls lit up, illuminating the room. The room had eight rectangular stone tables spread around the room. In the middle of the room was a ninth table, round, which surrounded a globe of light the size of his head, set into a stone pillar that reached his torso.

Observing the walls Mat noticed another arch to his left which was surrounded by patterns delicately carved into the wall. He noticed the same patterns facing the wall around the arch he had just passed as well as two others, one directly in front of him and the second to his right directly facing the second arch.

Frowning, Mat wondered if these were not some sort of doors. Not noticing any immediate threat Mat looked at the arch he had just passed through with more attention. Indeed, looking very carefully, it seemed to Mat that there was a slight difference between two sections above him. He did not think that the mechanisms that kept the door open would suddenly close it on him but in doubt, he quickly moved away from the arch.

Approaching one of the tables Mat noticed that some were covered with stone tablets and parchment. Not knowing how long they had been there Mat did not dare touch them for fear that the scrolls would turn to dust, but quickly glancing at them he noticed that the words written on them were still legible, although he did not recognise the writing.

Feeling the same buzzing sound he'd had against the monsters, only this time much louder Mat frowned in pain, falling to one knee, dropping his weapon and grabbing his head with both hands Mat gritted his teeth.

After what seemed like an eternity Mat sighed with relief, the pain was gone and although his head still throbbed a little he picked up his sword and sheathed it, before looking back at the writing on the table, suspecting the consequences of the buzzing.

Smiling a slightly bitter smile Mat told himself that he had been right, he could understand the writings that he had been obscured from a few minutes before. Thinking how convenient this was Mat couldn't help but be angry at what he considered rape of his mind. But plague, he would take what was given to him, even if he didn't like to proceed using it and having no idea of its mechanism he would be pragmatic.

Ignoring for the moment the various documents in the room Mat approached the second open arch. Once in front of it, and casting a doubtful glance at the ceiling for any sign that the door might close on him, Mat entered the second room. This one was half the size of the room he had just left but Mat noticed something immediately that brought a smile to his face.

The room was round, the ceiling slightly arched, higher just in front of the door and lower and lower to the back of the room, benches carved from greenstone and covered with ornaments surrounded the room, against the walls, others were placed in the centre of the room. It looked like a room dedicated to a cult as he had seen in the rooms dedicated to the gods in Irvanon's palace.

However, what made Mat smile was not the benches large enough for him to rest on. No, it was the water-filled basin that covered the entire back of the room.

Throat dry Mat approached the basin, kneeling in front of it and taking a swig of the pleasantly cold water. Being cautious Mat do not drunk to his heart's content, preferring to wait and see if the water would make him ill, given the clarity of the water, he doubted it, but be careful.

Mat sat down on one of the benches and sighed at ease. Cautiously, so as not to awaken the pain of his many wounds Mat lay down on the bench, deciding that he would rest. Before falling asleep he thought about what to do next, with water here some of his immediate needs were solved.

In addition, the sap from the trees of the Emerald Forest could serve as a food substitute, even if it did not provide all the necessary nutrients. It was at best a low-quality replacement for food, but it would keep him fed for a while before his body demanded richer foods. If he paid attention to the owner of the area he could go and collect the sap from the trees with his canteen tomorrow. He would have to dig deep into the tree to get through the protective bark but it was possible with a little effort.

With food and water, he now had a place to stay while he recovered from his injuries. The wounds, the new ones as well as the old ones. The wound on his side from his fight at Tuanon was not yet healed, the stitches on his leg had not held after the fight with the water monsters, the few scratches that had pierced his guard hurt but were not very deep. He would have to take care of it immediately, but the blood had coagulated sufficiently, the weave helping the healing, so he told himself he would look at them the next day. For the moment all he wanted was to sleep. Which he did.