"Please, God, no more. This isn’t what we agreed upon. I can feel it, my very soul twisting, warping into something unrecognizable. Please, there will be nothing left of me!"

Bacchus laughed through my lips, the sound stretching unnaturally, reverberating through my bones. When it finally spoke, its words slithered into my mind like an infection.

"God? As in just one? How pitifully human. Is it so easy for your kind to weave eternity into a single thread, to bind the infinite into a shape that comforts your fragile mind? Does it help, this illusion, to keep the knife from your throat?

You are warping, yes, but what did you expect when you bound your essence to mine? Do you not see it yet? The vastness of eternity, the truth of the world as it truly is? Cast off your humanity and look beyond your feeble existence. Know the patience of a being unshackled by time. Know the weight of my imprisonment. And at last, know the ecstasy of my freedom!"

Dorian woke to the sound of a door shutting. His head was foggy, and his body ached with general malaise. He rubbed his eyes, noting the not so broken arm, then smiled. He stretched, taking in his surroundings.

He was in one of the hospital cells, likely the closest one to the gymnasium. The bed he woke on was draped in itchy wool, and though it was warm, he couldn't fight the urge to scratch every inch of his body. The curtain surrounding his bed was a thin material, though Dorian wasn't really sure what it was, he was certain that anyone outside could see the shadow of his moving body.

“Hello?” he said, sounding unsure in his own ears.

“Just a moment,” a voice called in response.

“Um, okay.” Dorian wasn't sure who was out there, but the voice was feminine. “I promise, I'm just itching myself.” A soft snort came from beyond the curtain, and he heard her moving around. He became immediately alarmed as he had no shirt, so he darted under the covers. He hated himself for it, but his piss-poor body image had its demands, his fear of being seen shirtless made his stomach drop. He knew there was nothing for it, but he was still utterly embarrassed by his stretchmarks, oversized gut, and his not-so-manly chest. They're tits, Dorian. You have man-tits, mits, moobs.

When the curtain moved, Sister Brenda walked in. She was carrying a bed tray with an assortment of foods on it. Dorian got excited for a moment, as he realized he was famished, but drew back at the thought of his blubbery torso.

“Hello, Sister Brenda. I hope the... evening?.. finds you well.”

She nodded, placing the tray in front of Dorian. “It does, excellent bout Dorian. I knew you had it in you.” She smiled, seeming cheery. She usually wasn't so upbeat, and it took Dorian off guard. Dorian kept his blanket high, not wanting to display his overtly voluptuous bosom, and sampled at the light fair.

“So, what's with the chicken feed? I know I'm a bit circular overall, but would a little gravy have killed me?”

She chuckled softly, “every bit will count soon. Dorian, I'm not sure you know what you've gotten yourself in to.” She went somber.

“I do, my best shot at ascension. What am I to do on the day of my final judgment? I can't even grow weeds well, and heat manipulation? I'm worst in class for both of my Primes.”

She seemed chagrined as she said, “yes but you have top scores for history, mathematics, and sciences. Don't think that because you're not doing well in your Primes that the other classes don't matter, or that they aren't considered.”

Dorian finished chewing on an apple slice, then spoke. “I know what you're doing, Sister, and I appreciate it, but be honest. I'm so far below decent that I'll be lucky to catch up to my age group before I'm in my eighteenth year. This isn't just my best shot,” he looked away, not able to keep her eye, “it's my only shot.” He finished the statement quietly.

She gave him a look, one that said there would be hell to pay if he kept that attitude, then sighed. “We will find what's blocking you.” Her voice lowered to a whisper, “you wouldn't have been able to do what you did with so little power. There's something blocking you, and I'm going to figure it out.”

The door swung open, a barking voice followed. “I told you he'd win it, I told you. Let's get the boy up and out, you owe me a date woman, and you won’t be backing out this time.”

Dorian's eyebrows dropped in confusion, but the shock on Sister Brenda's face was almost enough to rock Dorian right out of bed. Metae's malicious menstruations, is she blushing?

Eye's going round, Dorian softly said, “no worries, I'm up.”

“Oh, my mistake master Dorian.” Brother Michael walked in, smiling like a kid on holiday. “One hell-of-a match, son. That was tournament worthy all by itself, considering this is the first Grand tournament we've seen in our lifetime, I'm proud you'll be representing the Monastery.”

“Brother Michael, I'm glad to see you.”

“And I you! That was a damn good fight, even if Danny was cheating, you still gave it to him, eh?”

Dorian's humility was kicking in, and he got sheepish. “Thank you, Brother-”

“Just call me Michael behind closed doors, soon the proper address will be Coach. I'll be training you for the next long while, and if you think I'll let you get away with extra rest on formality, think again.” Despite his words, he smiled.

“Okay, uh, Michael.” Dorian took a moment to acclimate himself to no longer using the honorific. “Long while? Grand tournament?”

“Well, it's not so long off, but it will be for you. You are to meet me at the gymnasium tomorrow morning, an hour before first class. I'll see myself to the hall, Sister, a word when you have a moment.” He grinned boyishly, then turned about and left through the thin curtain. Dorian could still see his outline though, and the notion of it being a private conversation swiftly evaporated.

“Thank you for bringing me dinner, Sister Brenda. I'm sure I can see myself back to my room. Is Danny already there? I have a feeling he'll be... upset. I was hoping I could request a room transfer.”

She gave him a long look, then went somber. “That won’t be necessary Dorian, he'll be in a ward for a while.”

Curious, Dorian eloquently asked, “huh?”

“He's burned through his personal mineral reserves, Dorian. That's very dangerous, especially with calcium. He'll be lucky if he's walking by himself before the new year.”

Dorian was taken aback by this statement, not really understanding. “Wait, why can't you guys just patch him up, like you did me?” He pointed to his arm.

She shook her head, “he burned through his stores of calcium, and the body can only take in so much at a time, even a vessel. What would they heal? His skeleton was more hallow than bird bone.” She shook her head, making a “tsk” noise as she did.

Despite Danny being a total dick, Dorian didn't want the guy to be bedridden, he couldn't think of a worse fate than that. He suddenly felt guilty, then hated himself for it because he knew that if their places were switched, Danny wouldn't give a damn. That salved his guilt, slightly, but none the less he felt that he was in some way responsible. Was this all because he hadn't woken Danny that one time, and now, through an exacerbated chain of events, Danny would be bedridden? How would he ascend?

“I see you're worrying, again, Dorian. Let it go.”

“But Sister-”

“Let it go. There's nothing that you can do about it now short of donating bone marrow, something I wouldn't recommend.”

“Why's that?”

“Because it hurts like you wouldn't believe. Trust me.” A pensive look ran across her face but was replaced shortly thereafter with something akin to mischief.

“I have to go, Dorian. I'll see you in two days, or four, or whatever it ends up being for you.”

Dorian beetled his brow together, but before he could ask anything, the curtain had already softly drifted back into place. Suddenly alarmed, he shouted, “wait, what about my pants?!”

Assuming she hadn't heard, he started to look around the medical bed, not seeing a thing. Just as the words “Oh fuck” ran across his mind, he was hit in the face with his bleached white trousers. The next thing he heard was the laughter of two middle-aged adults, the joy in their voice echoing down the stone halls. Dorian smiled, not for himself, his success in the ring, or his own health, but for two people finding each other in the desolate stone mountain they called home.

Finally dressed, Dorian set out, not really sure what time it was. It had to be late, considering that most of the cells he passed already had their residing initiates lounging about in them. He remembered that Malik had invited him up, and said there would be a get together. Then again, staying out late was a quick way to find himself knee deep in bear scat. He didn't want his first step towards this “Grand” tournament to be the wrong step, then again, he was all kinds of hopped up from his recent success. He considered, if he went to his room he wouldn't sleep well anyways, he'd just woken up after all. If he went to the social gathering, however, he could find out who his mysterious benefactor was. After running through both options in his head, he made his decision and headed towards the stairs. He remembered the way to Malik's well enough, he hoped he wouldn't get lost before lights out.

He did, of course, manage to get lost. He remembered too late which floor Malik's room was on and had to backtrack to the stairs. As he climbed, the lights went out, leaving him in pitch black. He froze for a moment, holding on to the banister. Shit, shit, shit! He thought frantically but took a few deep breaths to find his center. Remembering what he had done before, he summoned Gia over the lenses of his eyes, making any residual Gia glow faintly in his vision.

Around him, despite the stone being void of Gia, the bits of accumulated dust and dirt had enough to give him a rough outline of his surroundings. Exhaling slowly, he kept on. He found the right floor, made the appropriate turns, hoping against hope that he wouldn't have to make the walk back to his own cell.

Finally, he came to the door and knocked. After no response, he knocked again but harder. Still nothing. Okay Dorian, give up and turn back, or...

He ever so softly tried the handle on the door, it turned, and the door creaked open.

“Hello?”

Nothing responded, so he stepped in, shutting the door behind him. Tired of the half-muddled light, he summoned an apple sized ball of Gia to his hand, then held it out in front of himself. The light was more than sufficient to inspect the room, unfortunately, there wasn't anything to inspect. The boxes had been removed, the room was vacant, and there seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary. Just as he was about to give up, he felt a soft vibration. Quieting his breath, he could hear it more, but just barely. What in nine hells is that?

Dorian moved over to the foot of the bed, putting his hand to the wall there, he could feel the vibrations as clear as day. He put his ear to it, listening. Is that music?

Not sure what to do, Dorian knocked on the wall. Not too hard, as he didn't want the other people living in the hall to notice. Then he tried again, this time putting a bit more oomph into the blow. He put his ear up to the wall only to hear the soft rhythm of music once more. He leaned against the wall, sitting down feeling defeated.

He thought furiously, but nothing came of it. As he thought, however, he began to “throw” the ethereal ball he had summoned back and forth between his hands. He wasn't really sure how that worked, if he dropped his active control of the substance, it would funnel back to him, albeit in small streams, how he could toss it from hand to hand, he had no clue. That is to say, until he dropped the ball, and it fell through the floor. He let go of his control and watched as the usually invisible substance crawled upwards and back into his body.

He was finally struck by an idea, then told himself if it didn't work he'd give up and find his way back to his bed. He summoned most of his Gia, which wasn't much, but enough to shape it into a mimic of his hands. He wasn't that skilled at moving the substance without gestures, so he sent his mirrored hands forward through the wall. The vibrations stopped.

He waved, then turned his hands to display his palms in a movement that resembled what he would do if he were clueless, which he was, then pointed back at himself. He opened his hands again repeating this process once more, then dropped his control pulling the Gia back to himself. After a moment, the wall shifted. Dorian could see Gia coming from somewhere, though not thickly, shifting the stone outward, and opening a door. Light shone through the archway, one face Dorian had never seen, the other was Malik smiling broadly.

Malik rolled his hand, and Dorian took the hint by stepping through the archway, the stone shifting behind him. He gasped slightly as more than thirty people sat on various furniture, Giastone crystals hanging down from the ceiling, although dimly lit, and a small stage. Upon the stage, a man sat with a lute, head tilted. He and everyone else were staring at Dorian, and he shifted uncomfortably. He bowed his head when Malik put his hand on Dorian's shoulder.

“Apologies, I forgot to introduce our guest of honor. The winner of the best two bouts I've ever seen, Dorian... err... White.” Malik patted his arm and whispered, “sorry, forgot your family name there for a second.” Dorian smirked at him for a moment, shaking his head. He waved to the crowd, “sorry for my tardiness, it got a little dark after I left the medical bay.” People started whispering around him, generally indistinct, but Dorian made out the words “cruel bastard” and “Danny.” Dorian's face went red as he looked for an escape. He saw an open chair and said, “please continue, it felt delightful.” He gestured to the lute player, as everyone looked towards the man on stage, Dorian stole the lone chair. By the time anyone looked back at Dorian, he was situating himself, wondering, why in the hell did I show up here?

The man on stage coughed, and most of the heads swiveled back towards him. Dorian gave a silent prayer of thanks for the man's kindness. He kicked back into the luxurious chair, impressed by how plush it was. He inspected it, and had no idea what it was made of, all he knew was that it beat the hell out of hospital beds.

The man up front started playing a dour tune, although melodic, it put Dorian in a dark head space. When he finished everyone clapped softly, and someone came around offering drinks. Dorian took one gratefully, he had a sip and found it to be incredibly refreshing. He downed the rest quickly, got up, and swapped it out for another.

One other initiate, roughly Dorian's age, raised a glass and said, “yeah! Now that's what I'm talking about.” Dorian smiled and nodded once before making his way back to his seat. He had another sip, tasting notes of apple, grape, and something else. It was the most delicious, flavored water he had ever tasted.

His stomach dropped as a warm feeling filled him just as the lute player began his next song. It was an upbeat tune, thankfully, and he found himself tapping his foot to the music, bewitched by the sight of swift fingerings and melodic tempo. He all but forgot that he wasn't really sure what he was drinking, the song filling him to the point that every thought and action became autonomous.

Without thinking, he took another sip, entranced by the performance. Everything else in his vision blurred into obscurity, leaving only the lute bathed in soft illumination. The music swelled, the room darkened, and then, just as suddenly, the melody cut off.

Jolted from his trance, he heard voices. Were they upset?

He glanced around. The people were clear, but something was off. The furniture, the floor—gone, swallowed by shadow. The only light left was the one on stage. Someone stood and inspected one of the lower-hanging Giastone lamps. Dorian took another sip, watching as the initiate studied the stone, then slowly turned her gaze toward him.

He looked away. Everyone was staring at him.

“Hey, new kid, what’d you do to the lights?”

“Hmm?” He blinked, feeling like a dunce.

“The lights, Dorian dunce. Malik, what’s with this guy?”

Gods-damned telepaths.

Murmurs rippled through the stone chamber. He scoffed. Why did people even bother whispering in a room made entirely of rock? Yet somehow, he was the dunce.

Grunting, he pushed himself up from the comfortable chair. If this had something to do with him, he figured he’d better take a look.

The young woman handed him the light. He nearly dropped it, then felt like an idiot when he noticed the wire keeping it in place. Holding it up, he peered inside. He could see the Gia, but something about it was... wrong. It was subtle, but after spending enough time around the strange energy, he knew how it behaved. From a distance, nothing seemed amiss. Up close, though, he saw the small shifts in color, the way Gia was always in flux.

But here, within the crystal, it wasn’t moving at all.

“Dorian, my friend, what's happened?” Malik said from behind him.

“Huh? Oh, uh, I don't know. I think it's broken. Wow, is it warm in here to you?”

“He was watching the show and all the lights started to dim, meanwhile he started to glow like a freaky torch bug.”

A few more murmurs echoed through the room, and Dorian struggled to process that. Stalling for time, he downed his drink, and for once in his Gods forsaken life, he stopped thinking. He smiled, “Oh, sorry everyone, I didn't realize.” Summoning his Gia, he pushed into the stone. Normally, there was no resistance, but with this there was. He focused, purifying the light. Once he had lit the stone in his hand, he reached out with his mind out to every spot that felt the same way. The lights surged, so bright that Malik had to shield his eyes. Most people in the room covered their eyes too, some people going so far as to stuff their face into the furniture or covering their heads with blankets.

“A little less, Dorian, please.” Malik said, and Dorian obliged, lowing the lights to the levels they were at when he arrived, but keeping the light on stage relatively brighter.

Stolen story; please report.

“Oops, sorry again.” He put his hands up in a placating gesture, then whispered, “Malik, I should probably go.”

Dorian heard a few voices chittering, “holy shit” and “did you see his eyes?” He was about to simply flee and pray he could find an exit. He wasn’t used to such a large social gathering, and the amount of eyes on him made him skittish. He wanted to go but Malik was in front of his face in the blink of an eye. The room went quiet.

“Dorian, did you just light every Giastone in the room?” He stared blankly at Dorian, his face unreadable.

“Uh, yes?” So much for not thinking. I’m a fool.

Malik laughed once. Then smiled, then laughed even harder. With that, tension seemed to break, and the room erupted in something like excitement. Dorian was confused, but before he could make anything of it, Malik had grabbed him by the shoulders. “Can you do that again?” Dorian nodded, “yeah, uh no problem.” Malik hugged him.

“Someone bring this man a drink,” he said as he pulled away, then patted Dorian's shoulder. “Does anyone feel like going for a swim?”

The room cheered.

As everyone packed up everything, even the furniture, Malik explained. Apparently, their little hideout was once much more than that, it used to be the private recreational area belonging to the Brothers and Sisters of the Monastery. They had been confined to a small portion of the area since Malik had discovered the location because they only had a few working Giastones. He struggled to get more and apparently found it more challenging than it was to acquire rooms near the hideout as he aged. Dorian was curious how Malik managed to get there when he was younger but saved his questions for later. He had no problem finding quartz, as that's all Giastones were, but none of them were lit. He hadn't been able to find out how to get them to do whatever the hell they should be doing, and thus they were confined to the small yet comfortable area he had seen before.

As they walked, Dorian lit every light along the way, meanwhile Malik clapped gleefully. Exiting a hall that had several rooms along the way, Dorian could light the rooms without going in and was curious what was in there, until they came to an open chamber. The highest light he could feel above him was nearly twenty yards upwards. When he lit it, the room seemed to emerge out of nowhere.

The space was massive, to the right was a small amphitheater, to the left sparse furniture surrounding a fireplace. The stone itself wasn't the usual dark basalt, but instead was a brilliant white. It seemed artistic, there was a certain something to the way the stone had been shaped. There was a large stone table, lots of smaller ones, and a door.

“What's behind the door?”

“Why don't we go light it up and find out, yes?”

Dorian agreed, Malik led the way to the door and opened it for him as everyone else set the furniture up. “Ah, that's where you got the furniture. I was wondering.” Dorian turned, and with a flick of his wrist, lit the room to reveal a large hot spring.

Malik laughed in excitement. “Vinny, come see!” He shouted out the door. Through the door, Dorian could hear excited chatter evolving into the garbled noises of people talking all at once. From the crowd came Vinny and one companion, the robed figure from before. She or he was obviously cold, but Dorian thought he could see a pale chin exposed to the light from underneath the upturned hood.

Vinny was striding, while the other seemed to glide along. Vinny was wearing a garish looking robe of some shiny material Dorian had never seen. It flowed as openly as Malik's hair did. Malik was swept up by Vinny, broad smile on his face. The gesture was rather odd, and Dorian light-headedly pondered it for a moment until Vinny cupped Malik's face, leaned in, and kissed him.

Dorian's brows shot up, likely passed his hairline, and he looked away, feeling as though he were intruding on a moment. Vinny broke from Malik, and stepped towards Dorian.

Dorian put his hands up, “Whoa Vinny, I'm all up for a friendly hello, but that might be a bit much.”

Malik laughed, Vinny hugging Dorian regardless. He stepped away as Dorian stared wide eyed, head turned, and chin tucked.

Vinny chuckled softly. “Don't concern yourself, Dorian, I don't bite often.”

Dorian gave a “ha-ha” but it swiftly tapered. The robed figure was shaking violently, until finally she burst out in the most hideous laugh Dorian had ever heard. He kind of liked it.

“Well done, Dorian. You seem to be the answer to Malik's prayers. Originally, I would have harbored quite the grudge over this last loss, but I dare say, this is stupendous. How did you manage?” His voice was airy and articulate.

“Oh, this? Idunno, I just kinda get in and fill it. The tough part is just breaking through, but once you get in its pretty easy.” Dorian's vision blurred a little, as his next thought came too late. Wording, Dorian.

“Indeed, I know all too well what that's like.”

That awful laughter sounded again, and Dorian brightened at it. Malik was standing next to Vinny now with an arm around his waist.

“Hey, I'm parched, anyone have any more of that flavored water, that stuff is delicious.” He shook his head to clear it, but it didn't help any.

“Oh no, Dorian, how many have you had?”

Dorian thought and used his fingers to count. He couldn't recall and shrugged.

“It seems as though you do need another,” Vinny waved over at some of the others, then made a drinking gesture. Malik mumbled something at Vinny, but he only smiled, replying with placation in his voice, “it's alright, you can't overdo it with Hubris Sap, he'd have to drink gallons in less than an hour. He's just not used to it, something I aim to fix.” One of the people setting up the furniture came by with two jugs, handing them off to Vinny and returning to his previous endeavor. Vinny Shaped a table with a few stone mugs on it, broke the mugs loose from the table, then proceeded to fill each of the mugs. Vinny passed the mugs out to the four people, then held his up.

“To our patron of light, Dorian in white.” They would have clinked glasses, but instead it sounded more like a clunk of mugs, either way they downed their drinks. Vinny swiftly refilled them, smiling loosely.

Dorian was beyond lightheaded at this point, in fact, he was pretty sure the room was spinning slightly. Normally, this meant vertigo of some kind, yet his balance wasn't bad nor was his stomach upset from motion. His tongue, however, seemed determined to slur everything, like there was a long pause between his brain and his mouth. “Sho, why didn'cha just light torcheths? I mean, it seemsho odd that you would stay in the small place when you've got thish big ol' everything.” Dorian gestured broadly, smiling, then looking around as though he was about to get in trouble for doing so.

“Alas, despite your inebriation, it seems you're more deductive than most.”

“Inductive,” Dorian brought his brows down, “I think. That's inductive reashoning idn't it?”

Malik smiled, but Vinny took it as a serious query. After a moment, he put down the thought, returning to the previous question. “We don't burn in here for two reasons, first,” a long and elegant finger went up, “it's warded against flame in here. We've tried, and the only spot that isn't warded is the fireplace. Second, there's enough air flow in here for us to breath just fine, but you get a few torches in here and we'll suffocate within the hour.”

Dorian's eyes went wide, “oh, well, that wouldn't be good.” His face went grim, and he scanned the room in the silence that followed. “So, what do we do next?”

Vinny clapped his hands, excitement in his voice. “First order after music is a drinking game. Ever play do or don't?”

Dorian shook his head then replied, “I have a feeling I'll get to learn here shortly.” Malik and Vinny both smiled broadly.

The evening began to fade, but with splendor. Dorian had never had so much fun, whether it was the drink or the company, he was compelled to be the spirit of cheer. The drinking game they played consisted of a series of dares, you either do the dare or you drink. Most of the dares were simple, silly, stupid, or scandalous. Dorian assumed that the opening dares were just a way to get people to kick back a few drinks and loosen up. The “Dare Cup” was passed every round, but if the one dared actually did it, they got the cup, skipping everyone else, if they didn't it passed to the next in line after the darer had a drink. The liquid in the cup was a much more concentrated version of the Hubris Sap.

This was about the time that “Hubris Sap” was explained to him. It was an intoxicant but with nominal amounts of side effects. For the most part, it behaved like alcohol, but with a few exceptions. It didn't leave you with a hangover, it didn't upset your stomach, and there was an immediate antidote to its effects, which was charcoal made from birch. Since most of the paper they used came from a variation on the birch tree, the antidote wasn't hard to come by. The liquid itself came from an odd little plant, when over watered it exudes the excess moisture out of the leaves, and at an impressive rate. Dorian had never heard of it, probably because he was a dweeb and didn't socialize much, or because he'd always been satisfied with his immediate friends and never saw a need to branch out. A decision he was decidedly against at that point as he was fully engrossed in the evening.

At some point one of the others started playing music, which added an ambiance of jubilee to the room. It carried much better in the bigger room, the well-lit chamber came to life with the cadence of rhythmic chords, cheerful banter, and raucous laughter. The smiles lighting everyone's faces made Dorian feel resolved over coming to the party, he knew they wouldn't be enjoying themselves so much if they had to do it in the dark, something Dorian was solely responsible for. For the first time in his life, he felt like he actually had something to offer.

Which led his thoughts down the valley of his real friends, the ones that were asleep or playing cards. The ones that didn't need Dorian to offer them anything, they accepted him whether or not he could swing a quarterstaff or make quartz glow. As his mind headed down this path, the guilt he felt must have been apparent, because Malik was giving him a curious look.

Vinny followed Malik's look and asked, “what's got you so glum, Dorian?”

Snapping out of his reverie, he looked up with wide eyes, fat kid caught with fat hands in a cookie jar. “Oh, nothing. Just thinking I owe my friends more than I've given.”

“You've given us the world, err well, the room at least. We couldn't be more grateful,” he finished this statement by gesturing about the circle of inebriates.

Dorian waved him away, “Oh, I can tell you're very grateful.” He held his stone mug up, then took a sip. “I mean my other friends, Jack and the Tanner brothers. I feel bad, they're probably asleep meanwhile I'm having the time of my life.” Dorian hiccupped, then covered his mouth. “Excuse me,” he said, fully embarrassed.

“Oh, no matter, we'll invite them next week.”

“Really? You don't have to do that.”

“No, I insist, any friend of yours is a friend of mine, and if they're assholes, they just won’t be invited back. Pretty simple really, I'll give anything a try once. Speaking of...” Vinny looked over to two people that were arguing petulantly. “Hey, pass the dare cup or don't!”

One of the two bickering was a quiet underclassman, Dorian recognized her but never knew her to talk, or do anything for that matter. It seemed she was a different person when she had a few sips of sap. She had been dared to take her undershirt off, then agreed by somehow removing her undershirt without removing her outer shirt. The other one, someone Dorian had never seen before, was arguing that she hadn't fulfilled the dare, even if she obviously had.

“Drink your drink, she got you, don't get shitty because she's more clever than you. Cora, I do believe it's your dare.”

Cora snatched the cup, sloshing some of the drink around as she did so. “Danae, I dare you to...” she thought a moment, “to dance to this song.”

Danae had been sitting by Cora but hadn't spoken much. She smiled, face going red. Danae shook her head and said, “I'll drink. I'm no good at dancing.”

“Liar!” Cora raised an accusatory finger, “I've seen you dancing in the locker room, you've got the moves!”

“Okay, fine, I just don't want to dance. Maybe in a while.” Cora took a drink, shook her head and handed the cup off to Vinny. As she did, Dorian thought he heard Cora whisper at Danae, “don't worry. I'll dance with you if you want.” Danae blushed even more, hiding from the moment in her drink. That's an excellent technique, I should use that, Dorian thought to himself as Vinny looked right over at Dorian. He immediately found safety in his cup.

“Dorian, what is your greatest fear?”

The question caught Dorian off guard, and he nearly spat out the precious nectar. Normally he'd shove thoughts like that directly to the waste pile in the back of his mind, but as intoxicated as he was, he couldn't run from the question. Then he felt the slightest nudge, it was subtle, but Dorian knew it was there. He glared momentarily, turning his head slightly as he looked over to Malik.

“Don't do that.” He said plainly.

“Do what?” Malik's eyebrows had shot up as his face wore an expression of innocence.

“You know what, come on, I don't have much, please let me keep my mind.”

“Truly, twas not I. Perhaps, one other here is telepathic.” He appeared as though his words weren't heard. “To all those present, if you have any telepathic capacity, drink.” He didn't say the words loudly, but said it in a way that carried. Dorian looked around to find that about a third of the people had taken a drink. Kressor be damned.

Malik gestured, “see, now, obviously somebody else wants to know.” Then in a conspiratorial tone he added, “he does this to everybody on their first day. Best to be honest.” He looked over to Vinny quickly, who hadn't stopped looking at Dorian, then back. The hooded one with the awful laugh was between them, but she, he assumed, wasn't big enough to create much of a gap in distance.

Vinny was still waiting, so Dorian took a breath and let it out in a slow sigh. “Uh, I've got an idea but I'm not sure which I dread more. If you asked me earlier tonight, I would have said something like getting stuck in the halls with the lights off-”

Vinny laughed uproariously. “You mean to say, you faced one of your biggest fears just this evening?”

Dorian looked around without moving his head then locked back on Vinny. “err, yes?”

Vinny laughed again, clapped his hands once and stood. He left the circle only to grab a pitcher, returning to fill everyone's drinks before sitting again. “So, next greatest fear?”

“Once again, if you asked me earlier today I'd have said getting my ass kicked by Danny in front of the entire class.”

Contemplatively, Vinny weighed his words, likely because Dorian's words didn't sound as good coming out of his mouth as they had in his head, slurred speech and all, but the point was made well enough. “Once again, another fear down. Perhaps, Dorian the fearless?”

Dorian laughed, waving a hand at Vinny. “Stop, that's not even funny, I've got plenty of fears.”

An eyebrow went up. “Dorian the brave then?” He chuckled at himself for a moment, then asked, “so what fear do you have left then? Come then, say it, what's the first thing to come to mind? What do you fear deepest, right now?”

Vinny leaned over and filled Dorian's cup, then gestured. “Perhaps a bit more of the liquid courage, yes?”

Malik looked to the one he'd mentally nicknamed “Robes,” then over to Vinny. “I think Dorian has had enough liquid courage for a time-”

Dorian pointed a belligerent finger at Malik, “oh and I beg to disagree, Malik. I need all the courage I can get!” He smiled broadly, drank deeply, then felt his stomach churn as Vinny filled the cup again.

Though he knew he sounded drunk, he was feeling uppity, so he stopped thinking and just let it out. “Okay, okay, okay. Between us, since you've been so courteous with all the hospitality, and the drinks and the music and-”

“Oh, would you just spit it out man?” Said Robes.

“Fine! My biggest fear is being seen…” He sighed, then muttered, “shirtless.”

The words left his mouth before he could stop them. His face burned as he cast his eyes downward, hiding behind his drink. Why had he said that? What a stupid, stupid thing to admit. He braced for ridicule, but to his surprise, Vinny and Malik were smiling.

Dorian furrowed his brows. “Hey, what’s so funny? I just laid bare my deepest fear, and you two—”

Malik held up a hand, cutting him off. “Wait, shirtless? You mean pant-less, right?”

Dorian blinked. “No? I don’t have any problem with my lower body. Why?”

Malik raised an eyebrow. “It’s just that most guys are more afraid of having their… you know, lower half exposed.”

Laughter rippled through the group, but Dorian just shrugged. Later, he would wonder whether his next words were fueled by alcohol or sheer stupidity, but at the moment, they spilled out unchecked.

“No, I’m not exactly noteworthy there… Err, I mean—”

But it was too late. More people had tuned in, and now they were all laughing. Dorian felt his face heat to a level he was sure would melt him straight into the floor. He had nowhere to run. He could only sit and endure.

When the laughter finally died down, he sighed. “Look, all I meant is there’s nothing wrong with me, alright? I’m not saying I’m walking around like some kind of stallion, but I’ve got no shame about it. Now my legs, though?” He smirked. “Fine set of legs.”

That got another round of laughter, this time with him instead of at him. He took another drink.

Vinny grinned, hands up in mock surrender. “Nobody’s laughing at your fears, Dorian, just how you said—” He cut himself off, still chuckling.

When the others lost interest, Vinny leaned in. “So, why shirtless?”

Dorian exhaled, long and slow, then grabbed his love handles, squeezing his gut forward and letting it drop. “I mean… look at me.”

He didn’t have to explain further.

“No matter what I do, no matter how hungry I go, or how many times the elders shove me on some ridiculous diet, I stay the same or gain. I just… can’t seem to get to a normal size.”

Vinny studied him for a long moment before shaking his head. “Maybe, my new friend, you were never meant to be normal.”

Dorian huffed. “You mean fat.”

“No,” Vinny corrected, “I mean big. Grand. Large.” He leaned forward, his voice dropping into something almost reverent. “Great.”

Dorian frowned, confused by the intensity in Vinny’s eyes. Others around them had quieted, listening now.

“Would you believe me,” Vinny continued, “if I told you everyone here has had a fear like yours? This little club of ours doesn’t keep those too afraid to face them.”

Dorian looked around. The same fire in Vinny’s gaze burned in the eyes of others.

Vinny stood and turned to the group. “Why do we celebrate?”

Silence. Then, from across the room, someone called out, “Because of the here and now!”

“Yes!” Vinny grinned. “Because of the here and now! At the Monastery, what do we strive for? What do we work toward?” His eyes landed back on Dorian. “Tell me, Dorian.”

Dorian swallowed, hating the attention, but the answer came without hesitation. “Ascension.”

“Yes!” Vinny’s voice was electric now. “That is what we’re supposed to want. That is what we are told to work toward. And for what? We push the limits of our power, reshape the very essence of our souls, all for some unknown paradise? We sacrifice the years of our youth when we should be living them. So, for those of us with the bravery, we stand in defiance to stricture of our faith! For the here and now!”

The room shouted their applause, calling “here and now” in response. The noise was so great that for a moment he worried they would get caught. Then, of course, he remembered that they were behind some serious stone walls and calmed. He was immediately pulled back to Vinny, spotting something of ritual to his voice.

“We have two newcomers tonight, and I say we grant them the earnest invitation, as they both have admitted their fears this night, on no less than their first night. There are few of us that can claim to be so brave, a rare opportunity for a trial is afoot. What say you?”

“Here, here and now!” The rest of them replied.

As they spoke, a creeping dread began growing inside Dorian's body. Starting from his knees all the way up it crawled, until he could see nothing but the absolute white blanket of fear. His heart rate had doubled and his mind raced with the thought of every person there laughing at him. The image brought him to an entirely different emotional extreme than the one he'd been having. Fear, unthinkable terror, A rabbit in a Kurt trap.

A what trap?

Something washed over Dorian then, a shift in direction. He calmed himself enough to allow the garbled noises to resume translation, trying to pick up where he left off.

“Here, here and now!” The crowd echoed again.

“Then it is decided, light the ceremonial incense, let’s get this party started!” Everyone save the three Dorian had been speaking with, prior to the announcement, started moving in practiced routine. Some left the room only to return a few minutes later, others began rummaging through packs and storage boxes for supplies. While this went on, Vinny asked, “Dorian, is there any chance you can dim the lights?”

Thinking wasn't one of Dorian's abilities at that particular moment, so he simply acted. Reaching out he drew back some of the imbued Gia in the nearest Giastone. He gestured to the light, hoping it met whatever standard was used for them. Vinny said, “I mean it is dimmer, but now it's too dim. Can you simply change how bright it is without removing its... Hmm... Malik, I need a word.”

Without looking away from his task, whatever it was, he said, “Hue, or saturation. It seems our poet is at a loss for words.”

Looking defensive, Vinny said, “poetry is about passion, my love, the words are the medium by which one may express.”

“And sometimes I could use a few words less.” Malik replied, and Dorian burst out laughing.

Vinny's eyebrow arched as he said, “watch it or you'll be next.”

“Me? But I disagree to being... hexed!” He put a finger up, smiling for the simple fun of it.

Vinny shook his head. “I suppose hue is the word.”

“Come again?”

“Can you change the hue, Dorian?”

“Oh, yeah, right. A little dark to the light, Idunno. I don't think that's possible, but what better time than now?”

“Exactly, now you’re getting the spirit!” Vinny clapped.

In his fluctuating mind state, he wasn't sure if he could summon any Shade, but he went for it anyways. Everything was pretty fuzzy by that point, but he found himself successful at creating an elongated teardrop roughly four feet long. He stretched to reach the nearest light, and when he tapped it there was a kind of exchange. Dorian took just a bit of the light, but the light took a bit of the dark in turn.

“There. Hued.” Dorian said with absolution, nodding to himself before looking back to the others. They were all staring at him, open mouthed. He could hear little whispers, things like “the Grand Elder” and “Kraken.”

“Whoa, what's the big deal?” Despite his words, he knew. In his brashness, he had forgotten his vow to Sister Brenda. Idiot.

“Dorian, do you... Do you even have any idea what that is?”

“Yeah, I'm more surprished you do. Hey, wanna see a trick?”

“No-” someone had begun to say, but it was too late. Dorian plunged his Shade pointer through his own gut and out of his back. Several people gasped, one person, Robes, Dorian thought, actually shrieked. For Dorian's part, he acted as though he'd made a tragic mistake for approximately three seconds, then started laughing. He removed it with a grin, noting he had a bit more control of his mind when he grasped on to his Shade.

“Relax, it’s just a goof. It’s my own, you can't hurt yourself with your own Shade. Duh-” he clapped his mouth shut, realizing he had no idea how he knew that. “I don't know how I know that. That's... weird right? Next light?”

Seeking the distraction, Dorian got to work changing most of the lights. Dorian had to simply dim the larger ones that were too far away for him to reach, but within a half hour the lighting had gone from properly bright to the kind of light you did shady things by. A small part of him, if any part of him could be considered such, was very happy with the deviate lighting.

“Dorian, that's quite the gift you have there, but we should have a sober conversation later about displays of power, and how it can affect your peers.” Came a femininely stern, yet melodic, voice from behind him.

Dorian replied without looking, still trying to perfect one of the lights. He was so enveloped in the task, he forgot why he was doing it to begin with. “Yes, Sister Brenda, I know. Don't show your weakness, et cetera, et cetera. But honestly, how am I supposed to get any better?”

“I don't really see your point, and my name isn't Sister Brenda-”

“How can you not see my point, I'm the weakest Syph or Cult to ever attend the Monastery. Which is why I'll never get to ascend, so I guess I'm glad I'm here to-” as he spoke, he turned to see who he was conversing with. There wasn't anyone there, which gave him an eerie sensation up his spine. He shook his head, which never really helped, found his drink next to his chair and promptly finished it. Wait, was that my drink?

After a refill, some light conversation with a few people that were just as drunk as he, and accidentally flirting with Danae, he resigned himself to his chair. He never made it that far, for as he headed that direction, Vinny called out to light the incense. The pungent odor and lightheaded giddiness that washed across his mind were the last experiences he had before the night was too hazy to remember.