Dorian woke with a start. The cool autumn air filling his lungs, its bitter chill making him cough. Sitting up, he could tell it was dark, and he wasn't where he fell. There were glowing green orbs lighting the privacy of a canvas tent, he had woken up on a cot. Oh yeah, and everything hurt.
He laid himself down, albeit slowly. Gasping every step of the way, leaning back felt like a little hell. He would have simply avoided whatever area was hurt, he wasn't a moron, but everything hurt so it was unavoidable. He smiled to himself just before losing consciousness, just happy to be alive.
When Dorian woke next, it was light out. This time, he woke up naturally, eyes opening gradually to greet the new day. He slowly inspected his surroundings, finding close to nothing inside his little canvas castle. The one thing it had, however, was space. It was large enough for an entire score of people, 12 posts surrounded the tent, and a thin metal pole was lanced upward directly behind his cot. Despite its inordinate size, the morning chill had been kept mostly at bay, only chilly here in castle Dorian.
Sitting up slowly, wincing as he went, Dorian began searching his body, mostly confused. Hadn't he been a pile of mush when he last checked? Hadn't he been stabbed? Furthermore, why was he falling out of the sky?
The weight of this concern seemed to finally settle on Dorian. He had no clue what the fuck was going on. He searched his memory, trying to recall anything, but he couldn't. Amnesia? No, he knew his name, but hadn't recognized the woman. Did she call him an idiot?
The thought of that demon filled him with outrage. He had been stabbed! Why in the hell did she stab him? Wasn't he in bad enough shape as it was? He allowed his mind to continue asking questions to himself for a short while before deciding that the only way to figure any of this out wasn't in Castle Dorian. Chateau Dorian?
Debating with himself, Dorian considered getting up to explore. Nothing was happening here, after all. Deciding, he sat up, minding his pains but taking them in stride. Standing, he found several holes in his clothes he hadn't discovered in his first exploration. Feeling under the clothes, he found he had been bandaged and the blood removed from his garments. Those garments were a diced set of trousers, a linen tunic, and an armored leather over-tunic. Tattered, but still working, not unlike myself.
Stepping forward, he felt lightheaded and stumbled, finding himself on his knees. He retched then, all bile and water. He felt awful, rethinking whether it was wise to leave yet. Reminding himself that fresh water is more important right now than rest… Or was it? He was in bad shape. Maybe she threw him out of the sky because he deserved it. Most definitely, why else would she follow it up by stabbing him?
He was still bleary eyed, when he stood, he simply made his way to the side of the tent that showed streaks of light, thereby finding an exit. Unclasping the straps, he ducked out to find a village ruin. Nothing large really, some scattered houses, and shrubby vegetation nearby. In the distance, he could see forests encroaching on the town, but several miles off yet. In the early morning dawn, he could see an incredibly bright light in the center of the ruins.
That's not eerie. Nah, totally normal. He wondered if joking to himself would lighten his mood, and a thought responded, “madness.” The whisper of the thought came completely unbidden. He could be going mad; it wasn’t an impossibility. If the stress of everything were to coalesce, he could see it. He was scared, confused, lost, hurt, and frustrated. The more Dorian thought on it the more he wanted to shout, to let frustration simmer. He hadn't noticed getting cold, but suddenly, he began to feel himself warming. There ya go, anger to keep off the cold, surely that's healthy.
He started limping towards the light, because what else should one do? This had some congruence to Dorian, like there was a path to follow and this was it. Sure, wake up in a place you've never seen, see a light, inspect it because there's nothing here otherwise. His limped gate made the short walk of a half mile feel much longer, he was breathing a bit heavy by the time he made it there. Perhaps more than a bit, Dorian thought, the cold thin air isn't very forgiving.
Approaching the feature, he found a sort of monument to whatever the light was. The pale stone, though dirty, all lead to the feature in the center of the small town. The monument had steps leading up to a center stage. Two pillars stood to either side, and hovering between them was the source of light.
“Beautiful, isn't it?” Came a voice off to Dorian's right. A thin man approached, wearing a thick woolen coat. He had a short beard, but thick enough to dominate his face. His gate had a pronounced limp to it, but still he walked over to Dorian without much effort.
“We've only read about such occurrences, most the time the clots are too large and disperse easily. This is still completely isolated. I'm not sure how it's been done.” Dorian looked at this man, taking his measure. “You know me.” Dorian didn't pose it as a question.
“Yes Dorian, I know you. My name is Marcus, and this is the third time you've done this. Last time left us with some problems, so we took precautions this time.” Marcus looked at Dorian, face changing from concern to relief. “We didn't know if you'd wake, you were in bad shape. You subconsciously drew on Gia in a four mile radius after you lost your senses. We had three Sprinters pass out before we realized. I would have sent healers, but they would have been too late. By the time you made it back to us, you were already healed. We bandaged you up and set you to sleep on the neutral field. That’s of no importance to you now, but it will make sense in a few hours. Th most important thing is getting you back to you.”
Dorian wasn't completely sure what the hell was happening, but for whatever reason he felt he knew this man. Dorian was struck with a sudden vertigo, vision blurring, then white…
He sat at a table, explaining the rules of a card game to Marcus. “No, you can't play those in that order, because the first play would ruin the follow-up. See if you play this card first-” He was pointing at one of the cards. The world spun, light twisting, rearranging itself around him. There stood Marcus, among the ruins, and the light, and the cold.
“Old friend,” Marcus put his hand on Dorian's shoulder. “Before you ask, I did get the hang of it. I beat you weekly these days.” Marcus' grin was pronounced by how trimmed his beard was. “And I'll have you know, before you know later, she's not what you'll think she is.”
Dorian's brows furrowed, not sure what he was talking about. “What's next,” Dorian said, anxious.
“The light should resonate with you, it would likely kill anyone else. Once you touch it, you should be lowered down to the cleansing chamber. From there, Clara should help you the rest of the way. I'll be leaving after you go down, I have a tether back to Avlintas. So, if you'll do an old man a favor,” he began walking towards the hovering light, his hand escorting Dorian like a parent escorts a child. “I would like to get out of the cold before we both die of old age.” Dorian frowned. “What are you, forty?” Marcus laughed lightly, still walking Dorian along.
When he made his way to the light, Dorian looked directly at it, and as bright as it was it didn't seem to hurt his eyes. Now that he was so close, he could feel a radiance from it. Not like one would by a campfire, closer to the feel of sunlight on one's skin on a frigid day. Dorian reached out to touch it. “I'm four hundred and thirty-seven, this year,” Marcus said absent mindedly. As Dorian turned his head to express his astonishment, the stone beneath him opened, swallowing him downward. He thought he heard laughter coming from above him as the light shrank away far too rapidly.
Dorian slid downward in a slender passage at break-neck speed before the gradient of the smooth stone began to level off. He had been falling so fast that, for a moment, he worried he was going to have a repeat of his last high-speed venture. He offhandedly wondered if he could consider “splatted” a recurring medical condition.
Dorian noted a dim glow as he fell, a field refracting that same hue of green as above. Before he had a chance to choose, he passed through it like falling through the ice on a riverbank. When he went through the outer wall, an abrasive wave of calm washed over him, relaxing, yet somehow jarring. Dorian chided himself, you can't be both, can you? Finally, he slid to a stop. With little grace, and no dignity, he wiggled himself free from the stone.
The first thing he noticed were the runic markings on the walls, all glowing a bright blue green, its hues changing like breath. Broken in places, the chamber spoke of antiquity. The linings of the runes seemed to be bursting with life, moss and lichen growing unerringly outward. In the center of the runes, in the negative space that composed them, came a void. Nothing grew towards the darkness, only at the furthest reaches of the light.
The second thing he noticed was the lean shape of a woman glowing ominously at the top of a platform, her glow unharmonized to the rest of the chamber. Her shape was mostly composed of her flowing hair, and an exact matching set of leathers to his own. Well, exact in form at least. His were in shambles, while hers were in pristine. He could tell they fit snug against her athletic form. Next to her was a square shape covered in more runes, these were the most intense in the chamber, it lightened most of the room from atop the precipice. Its glow pulsed in tandem with his own heartbeat.
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Not allowing himself to slow, he grimaced and continued to limp through the general ache in his legs. A flare of pain caused him to visibly wince, to which a unique sound echoed off the walls. Like a whine. Directly in front of the woman, presumably Clara, came a click clacking on the stones, followed by the outline of a bushy tail as it moved back and forth. As the shadow came closer, he caught the eyes of a brown eyed shepherd. As the dog approached, however, it multiplied in size, as its bounds grew bigger, so did it. By the gods, Dorian thought, I'm lunch. Or brunch. Maybe a light snack.
Not thinking, he put his hands out by reflex, saying something along the lines of, “Whoa boy.” To his amazement, the dog stopped, sat, and looked at him. His tail was bobbing, and his head was tilting. Yep, definitely a boy. Big boy. This is when he heard snorting echo throughout the chamber, followed by a laugh so hideous it made him smile. They, Dorian and the dog, both looked over to see Clara doubled over, leaning on the central platform for support.
Not sure what to do at this point, Dorian asked, “Clara, I'm guessing?” She was holding her sides, still chuckling as she replied. “Yes, yes Dor,” she was waving her hand as she spoke. “Come then, Leo.” The dog looked back at him for a second, and shrank, deflating as it turned around and padded back to the woman. Dorian followed, taking each step-in stride. His right side hurt more than his left, but was by no means pleasant to lean towards, so he climbed the stairs as gingerly as a broken man could.
When he reached the top, Clara stood with her arm outstretched. Dorian's pride didn't want him to take the help, but still he took it knowing that to shirk the hand before him was to shirk the woman connected to it. He reached for it while coming to the top, mumbling his thanks as he did. “Tha-” was as far as he got, when he took her hand, everything spun and faded into white.
Dorian had his hand resting against his forehead, trying to make sense of something. “Not to be a bother, but you look like you could use some help.” A Woman stood over Dorian, he was drenched in sweat, blood, and dirt. Exhausted beyond belief, he hadn't stood in nearly twenty minutes. Practice was done for the day, but he didn't want to leave the yard, not for any other reason than it was where he was, and going anywhere else would take an effort he didn't have left in him. Looking at her, a bit plain despite her obviously fine figure, he saw the stern expression on her face and found himself taking the proffered hand.
Standing, he shook his head as if it would remove the wave of vertigo that struck him. Dorian opened his eyes to see the bloom of the most wonderful smile he'd ever seen. The once plain face seemed to glow for a moment, gorgeous. As quick as the smile was there, it was gone, face reverting to its idle consternation. “Vessels aren't to be on the yard past their allotted times. What class is yours?” She spoke like a whip, which drew Dorian's attention to her attire. Captain? Oh shit.
Dorians vision blurred and he came back to himself, held up by the same stern woman. She smiled. His heart leaped, and with it the glow of the chamber intensified.
“No, I haven't decided.” she said as she helped straighten him. “Decided what?” Dorian said, confused.
“Oh, so you didn't keep that one, huh? I figured not, sometimes context doesn't keep anyhow.” She chuckled softly, “Okay, well, I say we should just do this and have done, right?” She looked at the center structure, which drew Dorian's gaze to it. The raised platform had an indentation in the center, it was an elongated oval. In the indentation, there were more runes, but without any of the darkness that seemed to envelope the negative space of those on the walls. These runes were very small, but also much more numerous. Looking closer, Dorian saw something running through the center of the shape. Is that dirt?
Puzzled, Dorian looked to Clara. Eyebrow raised, he was going to ask, once again, what the hell was going on, when she spoke instead. “Strip.” She said wryly.
Huh?
“Naked,” Clara said while rolling her eyes. Dorian was puzzled before, now he also felt puzzled and a bit excited. Stop it, you idiot, just listen to her, spoke his inner voice.
“You must have full skin contact, or the transfer might not be completed in a single sitting. It might not take anyhow, we don't really know. We need this to be successful on the first go, there's a whole lot riding on this.”
Dorian mimicked the sour look on her face, “And by that you mean...?”
Shrugging, she said, “oh, we'll all lose the very spark that ignites life, and the human race as we know it will cease to exist. So, you say.”
“Oh,” he replied sounding contemplative, “Is that all?” Her only response was a stony glare.
Dorian, in all his wisdom, decided to do as he was told. She promptly turned around as he began. Feeling awkward, Dorian sped up, and nearly fell over removing his pants. Clara's head tilted to check on him, so Dorian asked, “What do I do when I'm fully unclothed?”
Clara straightened herself while replying, “Just lay in the indentation. It will fill with open Gia, it will feel like water, but don't be distracted. Once you start, you can't stop. You can't even move until you're unconscious, and so long as you don't thrash too much, you should maintain consistent contact. Once the Gia is over your mouth, just breathe naturally. When pressure expressed on Gia by a living creature, it converts to a gas, consolidates, and will naturally be exhaled as a liquid. You don't need a whole lot on the inhale, but you'll have to exhale just as much as you would normally. Try not to fight the expansion of your chest too much, it will feel unnatural at first.”
Dorian finished undressing before she finished speaking. He felt like he was supposed to be doing this. All this, really. When he thought about it all, waking up and falling to his death, followed by castle Dorian, the crumpled town, and this chamber, it felt oddly expected. Like this was simply the next step. He climbed into the indent. He sat with his legs out in front, preparing to lay down. “Anything else I should know?”
She turned and kept eye contact with him. Yes, I'm watching your wandering eyes, don't get any ideas there. He wanted to glare at her, but not feeling entirely bold, he just kept her gaze. “The Gia will make an egg, it will be bright, then it will be very dark, don't be alarmed, it's just the Shade. So far as we know, you'll lose consciousness then. You put more in this time, almost nothing left. So now you'll have to manage all of it at once. Most of it will be a ride, but if you get caught in a loop, you'll need to focus it out. By the time you come to any of that, you should know how to channel out the Shade. You'll understand, shortly. So, if you would, please lay back and get this over with. I'd like to go home.”
Dorian could only look confused. “Just go!” She gestured open palmed. He followed where her hand was pointing and found himself looking at his worse half. Looking back up quickly, he caught her looking. She held that stony glare, but he could see her fighting a grin. He scowled and laid back.
Looking at the runes on the ceiling, he felt something shift, like his presence wasn't just where his body lay. He could sense the entire chamber. Every rune, every source of light or dark.
The bowl began filling. Oddly, he knew this without having to physically look down, the cool sensation on his skin so faint he wouldn’t have realized it if he hadn’t already known it. Then he knew everything that would happen next, not why it would, just that there was a process and the steps to complete it. His uncertainty collapsed, and he simply allowed this process to run its course.
Dorian’s body fell the tantalizingly cool Gia running up his back, growing slowly. Like drawing a room temperature bath, it climbed at a gradual pace until it covered his body. As the liquid covered his face, he inhaled, choked for a moment, then had to make a conscious effort to relax. He inhaled just a touch, and as he did, he felt his chest expanding without the use of his muscles. When it felt like his lungs would burst, he exhaled, and like that he was breathing normally.
The liquid light continued to swell, filling all the space around him. When it looked like the liquid would spill out, it filled upwards instead. Forming into an elongated cylinder, egg like in shape, it finally stopped. Clara had blindfolded the dog and was finishing tying her own when the darkness in the chamber began to writhe. The negative space in the runes, the floor, everything that wasn't emitting light, seemed to crawl in together towards the center of the ceiling. Runes now gone, the chamber glowed a brilliant blue green, blindingly bright.
Dorian felt a wave of revulsion roll through him, he could see the Shade crawling, like little inch worms, across his body, leaving the bowl he lay on. The essence made its way to the congregation of darkness, swiftly crawling out of his bowl, up the wall, finally to the ceiling. The black mass began writhing, shaking, then swirling. Feeling the room, the spiral started drifting down, making the form of a stalactite with its mass. It elongated, and for a moment before the egg and the darkness met, time seemed to stop. The anticipation mounted, as though the process would stop, pause, right there. In that moment, for the first time since the process began, he knew dread.