Chapter 2 - Of Sorrow and Royalty
My voice ripped itself out of me, roiling and spewing along with the sharp scorch of pain.
Agony. It tinged the world black and red. Pain filled my mind with thermonuclear fog. Anguish swept in great torrents. I pushed and battered against the unyielding deterrent, turbulent consciousness assailed against its enclosing walls. I struggled to keep the insistent unconsciousness at bay.
Only my Core was keeping me going. My Christophers were half a centimeter long and 0.3 centimeters wide. On entry, my brain would rock and pool out of its moorings, shearing off the internal lining as they pierced my skull. Internal bleeding, swelling, and bruising. All were held at bay by Essence reinforcement.
I needed to keep awake. If I entered a comatose state, my thalamus would go into hyperdrive. Usually, the thalamus dies down and activates later on transmitting images and sounds to your cortex. However, things were literally jiggling around in my brain. It would overreact. I would lose voluntary control of my Essence, and it would send all of it attempting to purge the foreign bodies.
Similarly, Mental Essence was required to guide the Christophers to their respective sockets. Essence can do some pretty phenomenal things. I'd created slight pockets using Essence, enough to nudge the Christophers into position. There were thin arms that would branch out from the body of each Christopher into their designated lobes to receive information. Eventually, they would assimilate completely, rendering any gap negligible.
I pushed through the fog of pain and struggled to send the smallest of wisps of Essence to my mind. Taking control of my Core was especially difficult. It wanted to divert Essence to flush it out. I had to actively control that while allowing the slightest gap in my dominance to allow some Essence to flow into my brain.
I had to split my focus three ways. One to control my Core, one to buffet the increasingly intense battle against unconsciousness, and another to guide the Essence to manipulate the Christophers into their slots.
Harrowing pain assaulted me, but I persevered. Essence successfully guided the Christophers and coaxed the arms to attach. My Core still thrashed against my mind but I held it off. Consciousness trembled but held firm. I had to manage this quivering control until my Core stopped struggling, signifying the Christophers' binding.
Days passed slowly. My Core still struggled. I deluded myself into thinking it was winding down, but it was a figment of imagination. I could do nothing but count.
1....2.....3......4.......5........6.........7...........8...........9...
They dragged on, providing no salvation from this insipid hell. Self-inflicted. Thoughts of giving in flew and pinched across my brain. Betraying all the work I did. But in the face of unyielding torture, self-control evaporates.
There was a primal instinct that told you the next day is all that matters. It doesn't care about what it took you to get there. It only looks to the next day. The next hour. The next minute.
I wavered but pressed against the tide of pain. It split against me. Found the nooks and corners I couldn't protect myself from. Malignant, it wormed its way into every cell. Malicious, it tore self-control asunder.
But I held on.
And held.
When arbitrary thought had given away and I narrowed my focus to that one conviction. To come out. To reap the fruits of all my work.
So I held.
And held.
I began counting again.
10018......10019........10020..........10021............10022...............10023....................10024...
And then it all fell away. Like a world-shattering, it was over. The relief hurt almost as much as the agony.
My Christophers had attached. I succeeded.
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2 weeks. The date flickered across the HoloScreen. I had hoped for a smaller time frame, but it seemed my assimilation had been imperfect. The data returned depicted how horrendous my control was. I'd adapted to Essence in massive quantities entering my mind. The control required to utilize smaller amounts was much finer and more demanding but usually rendered moot because it is something mastered with Essence Wielder's original Essence quantities. For me, however, I always had more Essence to allocate wholly to my mind, so finer control was lacking.
Another thing to work on.
I stumbled as I hopped off the cot. The Solution of Satiation kept my cells satisfied, but it wasn't perfect. My muscles had atrophied quite a bit.
Stumbling across the pristine floors and woolen carpet into the HazShower that was powerful enough to scrape ions off my body. Quickly stepping out from the stinging pressure, I threw my clothes which had been filthy with waste into a sanitization machine, wrapped a thick blanket around myself, and dragged myself into my bedroom.
I almost cried seeing my bed but I was ravenous.
I rang Agora and nearly begged him to bring me food, but I luckily managed it with a bit more poise.
"Of course, Master Rale." Sensing my mood, he departed quickly to bring me something hot.
I closed my eyes seeing stars. the relief was near euphoric. And it wasn't just the lack of physical pain. It was the twinge of success that starts at the back of your throat and slowly winds up your body to daze you with that sense of accomplishment. It was powerful.
A silly smile unfurled across my face, white teeth flashing. It broadened until it captured the very definition of derangement.
It was, of course, the good kind.
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Throwing warm clothes on and setting my dishes – numerous dishes – aside, I looked around the room. Reminiscing. It's a strange feeling. You see the most inane of objects, scattered around your bedroom, and abruptly, you're looking at a web of relations.
I looked at the little hook riveted into the wall and I remembered the countless hours I had spent poring through books, attempting to manufacture my Christophers. I saw my foolish grin when I finally figured out a particularly nasty vista of the Quagmire Formula. My arms had shot up into the air and I remembered choking on 2 weeks of accumulated body odor, as I finally acknowledged how much time had passed.
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I shifted my gaze over to a bouncy ball I had made when I was still young and oblivious to the atmosphere around me. It would bounce around the room with an incessant buzzing sound that had the unique ability to annoy even the most stoic. It seemed so long ago, but I still remember the sneer on my brother's face as he looked down on me. I thought I had won, pranks are meant to annoy, to provoke a wave of loving anger where you have endless fun in the suspense of payback and the ultimate feeling of annoying your sibling. How foolish. How naive. How hopeful.
My focus widened, and I take in my bedroom in its entirety. The impassive walls, the vacant decoration, sterilized lights, everything screamed of nothing. It was as if my being in this room was the very epitome of lifelessness, of – nothing.
Terrible anger overtook me. It dwarfed the feeling of elation completely. Tears leaked out of my eyes. Dripping and splotching the carpet below as I leaned my elbow on my knee and kneaded my forehead with my palm. My thoughts turned dark, despairing.
Power. A ruthless thing. A futile desire. Ephemeral and omnipotent, it was the cause of all my despair. And despite that, I reached for it. I ached for it.
It was the reason behind this blooming society. Those with strength are those with freedom. Those with strength are those who were right. Those with strength are superior. A simple ideology with efficient progression. Yet, it hurts all the more that the best trajectory was my worst reality.
Tears continued to fall, fat dangling tears that told the story of each sorrow I had experienced. It painted each story, and with each tear, a little bit of the fundamental and essential piece of the architecture of my very soul – fell away.
As they continued to fall, I felt a little bit of my history, chip away. Fall into oblivion. In one of my tears, I saw the backs of my friends. And then it dissolved. In another I viewed my young, innocent heart, trusting and aching for that gap that my parents had dug away from me. That tear traced its winding way down my face, but it too dispersed. A third one detailed my 7 years of solitude. The wild and vibrant garden I played in when I was young, and exercised when I matured. Alone. The bedroom where I had wept in loud, sniffling sobs, desperately hoping someone would care enough to run in and put my head in their lap, whispering delicately to me, whispering soothingly.
That one stained my shirt as if it wished to linger. I threw the shirt away.
The tears continued to tumble down my cheeks, but I felt lighter after each one. A strain corded around my neck eased and slowly unwinded itself. My chin lifted. My back straightened. My eyes blazed.
One by one, the memories released their burden from me. I let them go without hesitation. Those that attempted to remain were purged from me with ruthless force.
As a final tear trickled out of my eye, my eyes looked up, pure and clear.
As the chains of suffering released, I felt unconfined for the first time in 7 years.
However, to truly leave a clean slate, I needed to have one more dinner with my family.
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I dressed immaculately. Throwing away my tear-dotted clothes, I stripped and redressed myself in an expensive suit. I buttoned my shirt up, leaving the irritating collar button open. I left out the tie.
Leaving the black blazer open, I stuffed the ExtensionCube into my pant pocket – an item that can store nearly an infinite number of objects, created by using an application of some funky gravity, the concept of negative mass.
Tightening my hands on my blazer for a second, I regarded myself in the mirror. Releasing the folds I had scrunched up, I smoothed out the wrinkles.
Nodding to the mirror, I took a deep breath to steel myself. Onto the dragon den!
I took my EquipmentKit – which was about the size and shape of a dense, large duffel bag – that I had packed with some of my more volatile equipment that would have some adverse effects within the ExtensionCube. This equipment was expensive and it would be a waste to leave it here. Slinging it over my shoulder, I gave the room a final once over. All my remorse was gone. This was a gaze of finality. I nodded once to it. And left.
Leaving my bedroom, I walked the short distance to my laboratory, which I just finished packing before I dressed for dinner. My books, couches, and the rest of my items were deftly packed away in the ExtensionCube. The equipment was a bit difficult. I took what I would generally need for future projects and Mind and Christopher Modifications, but the rest was left. I was on the fence about whether I should carry it with me, it would hardly be a hindrance, but there would be a minimal benefit. Any Sect, Academy, or self-respecting institution should be well-stocked with common equipment. The Inalisan Academy? They were loaded. I would find the highest ends of equipment there. But having my own set would be better, I could experiment unsupervised and without the required permission to use anything.
So I let the common stuff be and packed the dangerous and expensive stuff. When the servants came, they could decide what to do with the rest of it.
I was of course taking my PreCelestial 'Laptops'. Those things were horrendously inefficient, but I always liked to see the evolution of a subject, and they were the birth of efficient computer science. A subject I adored.
I looked around my lab. This held more memories and was infinitely more intimate. But I took everything of value with me. I would have a new lab soon enough, with the same set-up. Still, my eyes glistened. I nodded to the room. A farewell. My breath caught, but I pushed the emotion away.
I would start somewhere else, and it would be somewhere I was respected. I was seventeen, I have centuries of life ahead of me, I would rebuild. It was time to leave. I tore my eyes away and stepped out into the broad corridor.
My gaze roamed about the palace as I made my way to the dining room, I took in the candelabras hooked to the wall, the prominent figures of my family. Their images hung in their sternest postures. Being a part of a Primordials family I was one of the youngest. She had children 770 years old. The oldest was my uncle Erast. He was, at least in my eyes, the nicest. He didn't care about circumstances. You had to perform up to expectations. It wasn't a fair judgment based on my ability, but it was still judgment on something other than my lack of power.
The massive ceilings were imposing. Vaulted to arc higher into the air, it sent a litter flutter in my ribcage, just arching my neck to look at them. I hadn't seen this portion of the palace in nearly 4 years. Everything was pristine. Everything was crystally frigid. Cold marble walls. Crystal chandeliers shone with sparkling, white light. Long, door-sized glass lined the walls that showed a frigid landscape. Evergreens decorated gardens and hardy Irises combed the blank space. Snow blanketed all. Cold winters, pleasant summers.
Another quarter-hour of sedate strolling brought me to the colossal doors of the Immortal Blizzard Empire's royal dining room.
Intricate designs stylized the rich, heavy wood.
I spied food still being carried into the hall. Perfect timing. They would just be sitting down.
I seemed to have caused some commotion. The servants stole glances at me, wondering what I was doing here, but too timid to do anything more. A bolder one stepped forward.
"Welcome, Master Rale. May I take your bags?" His voice was smooth and deep. Fake.
I gave him a silent look and dropped them at his feet. I gestured for him to open the doors.
Three servants stepped forward, two heaved the doors open, and the third took my bags and tucked them away in a guest quarter.
The bold servant, whose name was Gale I caught, stepped forward and his voice rang out, "Lord Rale Ilem."
Ah. So he was the chamberlain. He must have been a noble in his own right.
The doors extended fully and I took a short breath to release any lingering tension. I needed to remain in complete control, else they would pounce on me with all the fervor of a starving lion.
I walked forward with coordinated grace. Neither moving too slow nor too quick. A gait with perfect length and feet perfectly straight. Buttons gleamed in the orange-white light that spilled out the doors. My face remained impassive. Completely and utterly devoid. My unbuttoned blazer slightly flared out before I came to a stop.
Every face in the royal dining hall turned to me. Uncle Erast, Uncle Ai, Cousins, Siblings, Aunts. My eyes continued over the vast expanse of my grandmother's family, and they lingered on the stony facade of my father and the carefully restrained annoyed visage of my mother.
They finally caught the eyes of my grandmother. An imperial woman. She looked to be in her 60's with peppered hair. An immaculate blue gown and tortoise-shell combs adorned her hair. Her eyes, a replica of my steel-blue, flashed in curiosity as they caught mine.
I met her eyes and without asking for permission, remaining that gaze upon her, I, the disgraced member of this royal family, sat down.
And the blizzard opened its mighty maws and swallowed me whole.