Shattered as my mind was, I could tell it had come to an end. My second trip to the contamination was in the search of secrets. For all the power I had wielded in my long life, my mind was finally giving way. I see him every day now, sometimes as my mentor, other times my mother, my father, my siblings. All of which were long dead, I knew, but that didn't make them any less real. My mind had been flayed the first time, and the torment I have been suffering for the last few decades was of my own creation.That, however, was just the cost. We all must pay a price, but I have begun to suspect that I might not have to suffer the price alone. So, I came to the suction tunnel, well hidden within the depths of the administration building, only accessible with the appropriate runes. I would change that, in time, so long as I found success in my journey below.The natural vacuum was a wonder of transportation, and I found myself standing in the antechamber in short order. The whirlpool effect that ran through the valley bedrock was easily visible at this center point. The ingenuity of the first three was something to be marveled at, and even with the power I have now, I couldn't fathom how something like that had been created in a moment. With my Gia I lit the chamber above. I sent a small tendril and stretched it as thinly as I could throughout the Giastone set there. The large stone gates, ornate as could be imagined, were decorated with wonderful illustrations of sea creatures. The uppermost portion depicted a large tentacled creature, broadly spreading its extremities to display an open maw of sharp teeth. The tentacles stretched around the doors, and the way it was depicted made me wonder what this power really was.I drew upon one of my primal powers, fortitude, and with little effort opened the door. There he was, corpse fresh as though it were only yesterday. The shock of my betrayal still written clearly upon his face, and it disgusted me just as it had the first time. The fool.
Dorian was somberly deviate as he drifted throughout the library. Perhaps the air of quiet that enveloped him was due to the nature of libraries, or perhaps the day had been too significant thus far and he needed time to process it all. Whatever it may be, he felt lofty as he drifted from book to book. Pointedly ignoring the welling sensation of dread, Dorian simply let go into the vastness of the library.
Vast was indeed the word for it, it was the center of the first six floors of the monastery, seven if you counted the basement. The climb down the stairs was a commitment, and the climb back doubly so. In this regard, Dorian was glad to pay the price. The lack of other students studying was the finest blessing Metae could bestow upon him on this day. Getting lost in the library was one of the most enjoyable things he could think of at that moment, and he took to it with reckless abandon.
Dorian took his first right upon entering the large circular chamber that was the entrance. The railing ran up all six floors, and endless bookshelves stood idle behind them. The maps that were located throughout had details of where it was located, and what was immediately nearby. The map appeared as a series of circles so close together that it looked like a mass of bubbles surrounding a singular large one. Each bubble had a been shaped to spell out the words for various subjects, and age requirements for each. The fun to have at the library, for him at least, was finding his way around the wards.
The wards were set just like they had been in his first class with Sister Brenda. The requirement to get through whichever doorway was simple, if you weren't old enough you couldn't pass through them. Most would simply be deterred by this, and move on, and in fact Dorian had put it past him. Until one day, shortly after he had spent his birthday in the Rock, he was studying in a newly available room. This one was wholly dedicated to flora species alteration and which was where he found a loophole. The age requirement for the adjacent room was seventeen, it was on advanced telekinesis, but when he got close to the archway the ward had dropped. He walked right through. It was then that he realized that the system wasn't perfect, and he found thirteen more loopholes within the week.
It wasn't only the desire to go where he wasn't supposed to, it was more akin to the concept of forbidden knowledge. Something about it just made his mischievous inner child’s motivation run amok. He learned about all sorts of random things, and sometimes he could find various mentions of post ascension, or continued studies. Sometimes he'd find journals, or histories on various disasters that had happened more than fifteen thousand years ago. Apparently, there were even partially burnt books from the fire that enveloped the library, this of course was prior to the great burning some seventeen thousand years ago. He had always coveted finding one of the rare tomes, but thought it was such a juvenile thing to desire that he never made mention of it to his friends.
After taking his first right, then another left after sixteen rows, he came to his most common room. It was the room with the most up to date study material, things one would have to know to pass the written portions of each class. There was a fair portion covering general classes, writing and literature, history, politics, trade, treatise, along with a smattering of primed vessel volumes. This was where Dorian did his work, and it was honestly the last place he wanted to stay. So he didn't, and he made his way through several hallways. He traversed even more rooms until he was so deep in the mountain that some of the Giastone lights on the ceiling needed repair. The hallways hadn't been swept for months.
This was usually where things would get a little weird. Some small rooms were dedicated to restricted content, things that weren't necessarily fact but couldn't be disproved either. Typically, you wouldn't find anybody in those rooms unless they were looking for supportive arguments for their own work, often only ever taken up by aspiring Pathians fresh to the robes. Other times, it was something like the final essay in literature that everyone had to do in their eighteenth year. He had left one of these neglected rooms via an old-style hallway. The difference between the old and the new was clear to anybody that had moved through these deep halls. New halls were practical, flat walls with a strip of Giastone running through the center of each hallway ceiling. Converse to the old halls that had the most astounding sculptures, they were wrought onto the very walls. Wild animals were displayed in various poses, sculptures depicting a hero of war or a Grand Elder or ominous priest. The artworks were old, ancient really, but that did nothing to demean the grandeur they inspired.
It was through one of these rooms that he felt something he wouldn't have noticed if his battered face hadn't been so sensitive. There was a draft, subtle, but still present. Curious, he licked his thumb and followed the flow of air to an aesthetically shaped pillar. There was a straight line that ran up the side of the pillar for the first five feet. The draft was strong at the edge, and his curiosity was peeked.
“Hello?” He said aloud, making sure there wasn't anybody nearby to hear him. After a brief pause, he started pulling at the crack but couldn't find enough purchase there. Then he strained as much as he could against one of the artistic protrusions, trying to lever it to budge. He'd simply drop an acorn or some other seed and just grow the wood enough to budge the thing, but he couldn't use those abilities there. He could summon his Gia there, however. So, he wondered and thought long about his experience earlier. He considered whether he should even attempt such a thing. After much deliberation, he decided to give it a go, telling himself, if you can't even summon Shade here then you’re deliberating over nothing anyways.
He summoned his Gia and reached for the sensation he felt earlier. It was filth, bitter rage, villainy, but also intoxicating and lustful. It was all those things but oddly perverted from those concepts. It was what it was, and when Dorian found it, he drew ever so slightly on it. He pulled it to his hand until it swelled and took shape. The elongated teardrop was slightly curved, two feet long, and was sharp at the tip. The bottom of it left an eight-inch gap, with just enough room for his hands.
Now resolved, he took his newly forged instrument of filth and jammed it between the pillar and the wall. With all his might, he levered against it. Just as he was about to give up, the whole stone shifted. It was only an inch or so but judging by the defined edge of the moved stone, Dorian surmised that this wasn't just old architecture, this was an actual passage.
Dorian increased the size of his tool and levered again three more times before he was finally able to squeeze his prodigious bulk through the gap. The passage was small, he had to crouch to move through it, but the excitement of discovering something he shouldn't made him giddy beyond belief. He summoned more Gia to light the way and was washed in a small wave of vertigo. He still hadn't fully recovered from trying to grow an oak tree, using his prime weakened his Gia, the sudden strain sapping his strength. Still, he moved on, undeterred.
For the first ten minutes or so, he was excited. That was, until he came to the first crossroads. To his right and in front of him were more passages, but to his left were stairs heading down. Despite the eerie feel to the dark passage, and as ominous as it was there, he simply had to find out what was down those stairs.
The next hour of descent was unbelievable. His ears began to pop at one point, but every time he considered returning, he figured it could end around this next curve. He had gone through this cycle of logic several times before he started to have an odd sensation. No, odd wasn't the right word, foreboding was. Then the sense started growing invasive, tremendously so. Abruptly, runes started appearing on the walls. They weren't visible without his Gia though, only as his hand grew close the runes started to give off a shimmer. This hall is warded with foreboding? Is this even possible?
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This only inspired Dorian to keep going, until he, finally, passed under an archway. Passing through, Dorian stretched his Gia out as far as he could to illuminate the room. It was large, and it reminded him of something, though he couldn't put his finger on it. There were thirty or so other archways, all with stairs heading up, but there was one archway in the center of the room secluded from the others. He looked around and patiently listened for anybody else there as he idly admired all of the intricate, yet terrifying, sculpted artwork. Black masses lazily crept through various scenes depicted on the walls, a world on fire, then a larger world somehow less chaotic, then another depiction of perfection. It was an old concept, each world representing each of the primary gods. On another wall, however, there was something out of a nightmare. Various depictions of people trying to escape something, horror written on their faces, their wide eyes all expressing terror in the extreme. It was captivating, and he decided that if he started to get lost in it, he'd never leave. He almost ran away from the awful thing, and cursed whoever could dream up such a terror.
Through the archway, an entirely different chamber emerged. The large, vaulted ceiling had Giastone lights installed which kicked on as soon as he stepped into the room. There were intricate carpets strewn about, tapestries hung from the walls along with intricate artworks ranging from painting to abstract three dimensional sculptures. On the far wall, on a tall platform, was a truly massive bed, but behind it lay something unnerving. A portrait of a man even larger than the bed, clutching his head and screaming, about him intricate vines of black that seemed to bleed out of him. Even his eyes were stained with the black waves, his entire figure illuminated by a glow. The depiction made Dorian feel sick, and he wondered as to what kind of person could sleep under something so disturbing.
There was a desk covered in sprawling paper. This made Dorian particularly curious, so he moved to inspect them. There were a few notes, short but to the point. One read, “find new Vessel,” another read, “rebuild for tournament,” another read, “stop war before population decimation.” As abstract as some of the notes were, the last one unhinged Dorian a bit. Though, nothing would unhinge him more than the rest of the papers had. Each one displaying something kindred to the large painting by the bed, but instead of a man they were dark sketches of creatures. Ominous and dark, some were animals, others human, and some of the sketches were of creatures Dorian couldn't explain. There was one that made his stomach roil and his eye water, and he didn't know why. It had the general shape of a man, but its arms were too long, its face too sharp, and its mouth open too wide. Gods, was it smiling?
Dorian put a small bead of Gia to the back of his fingers, lighting the paper from behind. The imbued runes there were suddenly visible, which put his mind at ease. He put it back down where he had found it and decided to peek about. If the place belonged to one of his instructors, he wondered as to what kind of dirt he could dig up, or what kind of information he could gain to give him an edge. Overall, that was one thing he had his biggest suspicions over. There had to be a way to gain more power, a way to tap into his Gia well enough to attain ascension. He knew he had a small shot with the tournament, but he was no fool. Betting his future on a long shot sounded like a terrible idea, but at the moment it was the most hope he had, and he didn't like that.
The bookshelf on the wall was packed with miscellaneous tomes, broader in scope than even the most general rooms in the library. There was one book, however, that made him shudder involuntarily. It was old, beaten, and when he saw it, an invasive sensation swallowed his mind. Terror! Fear! Run! Do not touch! Death! Pain! Disaster! Madness! All these notions and more flooded Dorian's mind, and he was forced to look away from it.
No, he thought, I didn't come this far to be afraid now. Dorian summoned his Gia again, and viewing the book from the light it emanated, he spotted runes scrawled across the cover. This was just another manipulation, and Dorian had had enough of it. He snatched the book, which made his insides squirm as though there were unbound Shade rolling about in his guts, and he tucked it into his robes. He looked around the magnificent chamber a bit longer, until he came to the wardrobe. He opened it, hoping to have a good guess at who's rooms he'd been raiding. He opened the large wooden door, and the very first robe he spotted made his guts churn even more. The symbol on the back of the robes were iconic. The infinity symbol placed longways, an arrow running through it. They each were unique symbols, and were typically only worn by a Sister or Brother during ceremonial events. The symbol for infinity was that of the Priorius, the notion that all Priorius were only reborn, never new, and the arrow being the sign of the leader. The leader of the Priorius owned these chambers, and there was only one of those. The Grand Elder.
Without thinking, Dorian ran out of the room and up the stairs he had originally come down. It was more than fifteen minutes up that he regretted his haste and began to second guess his choice. He knew it was too late to turn back now, but despite himself he kept onward. He had no idea how long it had been, but he knew it was starting to get late. His legs burned, and the sweat on his brow did little to keep him cool in his thick robes. That was when he first heard noises echoing from below. Fearful of being caught, Dorian moved as silently as he could up the stairs. The noises slowly began to divulge what they were, as the echoes did little to assist the audible clarity of the sounds.
The first noises were sobbing. They were painful sobs, like a soul wracked with the pain of an eternity, finally venting all the anguish out in a single bout. Then the sobs evolved into laughter, a laughter that belonged to a madman. The thought of a man laughing so hard that spittle flew from his mouth scarred its way across Dorian's mind. Then the mad laughter noticeably changed into the sound of raw unadulterated shouting. It was chilling to hear; the sounds crawled up his spine and back down to his toes. Then it repeated and he realized that the noises had a cycle. Sobs, laughter, then screaming. Whomever the man was that was screaming was singularly disturbed. He worked his way through a silent prayer, hoping to the Gods that he was wrong in the assumption he had made regarding the owner of the chamber.
When he finally came to an even surface, he knew he had screwed up. Instead of the crossroads, he found himself inside of a room that one would more likely describe as a closet. He looked about frantically, looking for anything that would lead him out of the confined space. Short of having a panic attack, he found an indentation in the wall. Smooth and straight, it was another opening to the passage.
Fearful he would disturb the screaming man and get himself caught, Dorian did his best to filter out the sounds echoing throughout the stone passages and shut his eyes for a few disturbed hours of sleep.
Fitful at best, Dorian woke half dazed but happy the sounds had stopped. He had no idea what time it was, and at that point, didn't really care. His back hurt from how he had slept, and his neck had a bad crick in it. After fumbling about in the dark, he found the opening he had discovered before.
Unlike the last one, this one moved with a bit of muscle. He strained himself for a spell, but nothing beyond what one would expect from shoving a thick stone slab. Once it started to move, he put his shoulder into it, shoving hard. It scraped across the stone floor inch by inch until he finally found himself breathing air less stagnant, and for the first time in hours he could hear distant voices that weren’t screaming, crying or laughing. Oh thank the Gods, he thought, grateful that he wouldn't have to descend the stairs just to climb another set. Now, where the hell am I?
The moisture in the air was palpable, and the warmth of it told him he was in the baths. He sniffed his underarm quickly and quickly moved his face away from the source of such an unpleasant stench. Since the voices he heard were few and faint, he assumed it was dreadfully early. Dorian considered it a bit, and decided that if he was going to go make dough for the cooks he'd get stinky all over again. Deciding it would be in his best interest, he searched for a way out and found it without getting totally lost. He was concerned by the layout, however, as he had never been to this bath before. He wondered how high up he was, and how much trouble he'd be in if he were caught in the baths that weren't assigned to his age.
As he was leaving the baths he realized, much to his horror, that the baths he had landed himself in didn't belong to his sex. He ducked and hid as three women came out of a room wearing nothing but towels. His face burned and he blushed furiously, realizing he had just seen the near naked form of Ingrid.
The butterflies in his guts told him that if he were caught there, he'd have twelve hells to pay. Besides that, his recent interactions with her would make him out to be a creep. Dorian didn't have much of a reputation at all, and considering the prior day's eventfulness, following that up with being a peeping tom would likely cut his newfound popularity down to newfound public humiliation. So, despite a small voice in the back of his mind that whispered, “just one peek, nobody will know,” Dorian ducked out of the baths, into the hall, and down the stairs towards the dining hall.
Clarice was kind and patient when he finally got to work. The process he described to the cooks involved ordering the steps appropriately, to make sure the dough would rise properly, and saving any sugar for the final steps. He worked with them for the next few hours, enjoyed an early breakfast, and prepared himself to head towards the baths. Clarice had a few words for him as he readied his robes, the book he had stolen still safely tucked away inside.
“That was well done, Dorian. Where did you learn all of that?” Clarice had asked as he got his robes back on, his undershirt now drenched in a mixture of sweat and flour.
With a start of nonchalance, he said, “oh, well, I learned that from...” he tapered off, furrowing his brows together. He thought about it hard, and nothing came of it. He moved to speak, opened his mouth, but nothing came out. All he felt was a deeper sense of confusion the longer he thought, and he was sure it showed on his face.
Clarice walked up to Dorian, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. She smirked slyly at him and said, “you know, if you don't ascend you don't get your memories back. I never did.”
Clarice looked somber for a moment, her eyes looking wooden and hallowed, then returned to her normal self. She smiled, “it’s like that for most everyone. Skills you've cultivated, the body remembers but the mind doesn't. It makes me wonder sometimes, what I would have been if not for this gift.” She sneered the last bit out, and Dorian could feel the venom in her words.
Dorian didn't want to inquire any further, feeling the heat in her words, he borderline fled from the dining hall, needing a bath, a nap, and a safe place to inspect his hard-won reading material.