Basements, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS
The corridor seemed to stretch out into infinity, slowly falling to shadow. The floating pinprick lights helped us see the surrounding area, but the distance was still hidden. It gave the facility an eerie, abandoned feeling, though I knew it was currently in operation and fully staffed. Hatches leading to offices and laboratories rested at even intervals on either side of the hallway. Occasionally, a corridor would intersect it, each branch dripping with a horizon of darkness.
A Staiven in a brown lab coat left one of the rooms and paused in confusion as he sensed us. After realizing the implications of the presence of three Seiyal within the facility, he quickly returned into the lab, closing the hatch behind himself. We ignored him, running right past. There was one thing that we were here to accomplish, and the lower the casualty rate, the better. I turned to face Rachel.
“You said you have a floor map, right?” I asked.
She nodded, looking blankly in front of her as if seeing something that I could not. We did not bother to explain to Cinto when Rachel had seen the map. She had little chance of figuring the truth out just from this one slip, anyway. We could think up an excuse if it were necessary.
“Yes. We’re almost there. This place is not as mazelike as it appears. The design is intended to provide multiple paths to any single location. Perivar’s room should be just a bit further, on the right.”
“I see. Cinto, you guard the door while we take what we need.”
“As you wish, Sect Leader.”
She had always been very formal and reserved before me, but I got the impression this had increased in recent days. She almost never said a word unless spoken to. It might have made sense if she had been particularly devoted to the sect, but I doubted that could be the case. The reasons didn’t matter, I supposed. There was no issue with acting in such a way, so long as she did what I wanted her to.
Following Rachel’s lead, we turned another corner, and I realized that all the hatches here were labeled with ul and a number in the three hundreds. We were finally here. We slowed our run, stopping before the door labeled ul366.
I couldn’t help but hesitate as I held my hand up to touch the hatch. I had been seeking this for over fifteen years. My soul had been torn apart, my sect destroyed, and I had traveled across hundreds of lightyears, all to acquire what resided within this room. My left hand moved to a pocket of my robe, and gripped a vial containing an azure pearl. Finally, I would have what I needed to live. With my other hand I tapped the hatch, and it slid open, allowing the interior to see light for what was perhaps the very first time.
Room ul366 had a very mundane interior that was very much in line with the roles of hospital and research lab that this place filled. A small table filled with equipment stood at the side of the room, while a bed rested in the center. Large machines, presumably some form of life support, stood on either side of it, draping cables out over the bedspread. The center of the bed, where the occupant would reside, was empty. There was nothing but an impression where a body had rested to indicate that it had ever been in use.
My heart froze in my chest, and I could feel the miasma beat away in my dantians, wishing to be released. It was formless, never intended to be bound. Why couldn’t I just let it be free? I started to laugh, a tear dripping down my face.
“Of course…” I said.
“Cyrus…”
The words came from Rachel, who was standing beside me. Her arm was outstretched as if she wanted to grasp my shoulder, but she stopped at the last moment, knowing it was impossible.
“Is this it?” asked Cinto, her stolid expression replaced with a manic look. “I was wondering how long it would take until you broke again. The consequences of working for a madman truly are severe…”
Rachel gave her a dark look.
“Shut up, Cinto,” she said. “Cyrus, restrain yourself. He’s probably just in an operating room at the moment. There’s only a couple of those, we should be able to check them and find him.”
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Her words seemed callous, but her eyes and expression told a different story. But my mind was so far away I found it difficult to even notice.
Mental injuries are a funny thing. Over time, or with proper treatment, a wound can scab over, feel like it’s healed. But just one slight impact on a point of weakness can be enough to return the damage right back. I was not originally so weak-willed that a mere frustration such as this would break my self control. But I had fallen past the brink far too many times now.
I had not been a formless man. I had a strong identity, defined by what I had taken for myself and what I lacked. But my soul, imbued with miasma, wished me to be like itself. It wanted me to be unbound by any rules except that which my surroundings imposed on me, able to shift and change according to the world around me.
I felt it was normal to seek immortality, an extension to one’s life. Perhaps that was why I fought so hard to that end. It was difficult to parse the remnants of myself from the influence of my miasma, and my brushes with a loss of self.
Perhaps my vengeful nature and delight in slaughter was simply myself taking on the form, the nature of an unorthodox madman. Or perhaps I had always been that way.
I could sense Cinto’s soul before me, felt a desire to tear her body apart, but I restrained it. I had come to a realization. Formless miasma was not simply the flow of a river, the fall of rain, and the coursing wind currents. It was also the liquid that took the shape of its container. This was also the nature of formless miasma. It was the nature of this fragment of my soul.
I did not need to be Jin Luo, and I did not need to be Cyrus Yu. I simply needed to play the role of him, to take his form while I was within his body. He had lost control of himself, and I could feel his soul dissolving for the final time. There was no possibility of healing him, not without cores to fully anchor his body and soul together. I knew what he would want. His last chance was to collect the eyes of Ester Perivar, and reach the next stage here and now.
I smiled at Rachel, the storm within myself calming to a light rain.
“I’m fine, thank you.”
She seemed taken aback by my words. Or perhaps it was the expression I bore? She could certainly feel the continuing dissolution of my soul, as well as the blaze of formless energy which dripped from my eyes and pores. The droplets of liquid miasma slowly fell from me to the floor, condensed from the mist that martial artists usually emanated.
“You’ve surrendered…” she whispered, her words conveying a clear sense of horror.
“I have. This is the only way. If we can get the eyes fast enough, perhaps I will be able to survive.”
She looked as if she had something more to say, but was interrupted by a hissed utterance.
“Demon…”
The word was from Cinto, whose manic expression had become one of fear and horror. I laughed, finding it difficult to constrain my emotions inside of their vessel.
“You have no idea what that word even means,” I said, sneering at her.
I then turned to Rachel, knowing Cyrus would not want me to waste any time. Her fear was not a sufficient problem to be worth dealing with, not at the moment.
“Where are the operating theaters?”
“There are two nearby, and several more further away. Each one is used for different experiments.”
“Do we know what experiments Perivar was being used for?” I asked.
“I’m afraid not. It wasn’t listed in any of the files these credentials give me access to.”
“Unfortunate. Cinto, return to the lobby and regroup with the others. I’ll be moving faster than you can keep up. Rachel, show me the way.”
“Understood.”
Cinto hesitated, and then began sprinting back the way we had come, clearly terrified. She passed by a Staiven nurse, who was forced to dodge the sprinting martial artist. I found it odd that the facility still seemed to be moving forward, as if the secretary in the lobby had never pressed any sort of alarm, though that could not be correct. Had Rachel done something without informing me? Whatever it was, it was an issue for later, so I did not bother putting it to words. Rachel did not bother commenting either, simply painting an illusionary arrow in the air before me for me to follow. I began channeling the miasma in my legs, my body knowing the water striding steps as instinctively as any other movement. It had been trained into me for decades, something I knew even more surely than my own name. I tore across the corrugated metal floor as if I were running from death itself.
Perhaps I was, I thought. If I did not acquire the eyes I sought, my soul would dissolve, carried away by the miasma to become one with the flows of energy which suffused the universe, and my body would collapse like a stringless puppet.
I was the miasma within Jin Luo’s soul, merely pretending to be a person. To be one with the universe was perhaps to be one with myself. So why did it scare me so much?
Ashata: [The substance that defines reality, ashata is the exposed lifeblood of creation itself. Located within the spacetime known as the Brink, ashata is used by Ascendants, Osine, and the more advanced races to increase their control over reality itself. When brought into Telles, ashata codifies itself into one of the six miasmas, though the mortal races do not understand the reason for this. It is said that souls themselves are composed of ashata, and some theorize that the hierachy of the soul is solely based upon just how much ashata one can store and control within the shroud that restrains it. There is some evidence to support this theory, as the shroud is what Spirit Refiners among the Seiyal seek to improve as they prepare for ascension. However, twithout a progression system, other mortal races are largely unable to alter the substance and nature of their souls. They would need a way to manipulate and control ashata within the spirit world, before it becomes miasma and enters Telles. If a race of mortals acquired such technology, they might be said to have gained the power to contend with the gods. Some say that the Osine was once one such mortal race.]