The Ruler of Ruin

My days drifted by in a haze of meeting new Gneisslings, and binding concepts to them. The majority of them wanted things along the same line of thought: rock, stone, artisanal fields, types of material their friends were, or combat and defense concepts. No other Gneissling wanted to bind Biolo Gy or focused on the odd concepts like Sympathy that Chrys had. She stood out as an exceptionally unique member of her race.

Between sessions of enkindling, I practiced with my spear and endeavored to get a full grip on how powerful my physical attributes had grown as an Imperial Topaz. Or ‘Orange’’ tier as the Gneisslings referred to the power levels. I didn’t unlock any more of my own abilities in the eight days I stayed in Schieferon, but I unlocked somewhere close to three hundred or more concepts in that time. The basic concepts were an easy affair, and few Gneisslings asked for something they weren’t suited for.

Each morning, I waved at the image of Amaranthine in the mirror, then put a sheet of cloth back over it. She made increasingly rude gestures at me each morning.

On the ninth day of my stay, Chrys brought me breakfast. It was some kind of lizard that had been turned into a skewer with a few delicious cave treasures, and chunks of a potato. She watched me eat, entranced by the barbarism of my consumption of dead animal flesh and cut up plant flesh. I never felt quite so judged as when I ate in front of her.

“Here is your payment, as promised,” Chrys chimed in when I had cleaned my plate of food.

Chrys set a delicate black box with beautiful streaks of white on the table. Despite the promise of a mask, the box was a mere three inches by three inches, and my confusion was so obvious that Chrys laughed at me.

“It is a curse-blocker. Powerful items like the Mask are best sealed away when not safely bound to someone. It prevents the curse from luring innocent victims.”

“How many times must I admonish this troubling talk of curses, it is a simple user authorization technology, hardly more complicated than low-technology Digital Rights Management,” Arx Maxima chimed in before my mind filled with the idea of terrors and horrors that usually were conjured by the word cursed.

“I see,” I mumbled. “How do I open it?”

“Pick it up, focus on melting the stone away, and say the passphrase: eclogite,” Chrys answered. I noticed she took the care to make sure no part of her body was even remotely close to the black stone box when she uttered the pass phrase. How careful.

Arx Maxima had yet to lead me astray.

“Eclogite,” I said after lifting the black stone to my eye level. I focused on the mental image of the stone fading away and revealing a glistening treasure.

“Are you an idiot?” Chrys muttered and threw herself across the room with everything she had.

The black stone melted away into nothing, and visible distortions of black and purple mists billowed out of the box. An evil, twisted looking face stared at me. Sure, there were aspects of a dragon to it. The long snout, the row after row of sharp teeth, the two long horns that ran from just behind its eyes towards what would have been the back of its skull, and the sharp blade like extra horn above its forehead.

The mask wore a smile, and it was wicked. If this was supposed to be a dragon, it was more like a demonic dragon, or a villain of a dragon. An evil being that wanted to bring apocalypse and ruin to all it beheld. I didn’t have a lot of time to stare at it, because before I could even react it appeared on my face and merged with me.

My skin ignited, or maybe melted, as the cold metallic surface of the mask touched my skin. Did it burn itself to my face? Maybe it was corrosive, like acid? I don’t know, but the pain came on so strongly, so unexpectedly, that I fell out of the chair onto the hard floor. The sensation barely even registered, compared to the excruciating transformation that struck my face.

“Definitely not cursed, see?” Arx Maxima cheerfully did nothing to assuage the terror clenching my heart, as tendrils of something worked their way into my body. The skin of my face had already merged with the mask, if I even had any skin left there, and root like flows of metal and power seeped into my flesh. They bound not only to me, but to the silicate shards of Arx Maxima that filled my body. A net of these tendrils connected across my skull, and in a flare of sensation the pain went away.

I lifted a hand to touch the elaborate mask and could feel the touch of my fingertips against the scales as if they were my skin. When I opened my jaw, the mask opened. When I ran my tongue against my teeth, they were sharp. Not only had the mask bonded to me, but it had also become me. When I gave it a brief tug, it didn’t come off. It didn’t even feel like a mask anymore, it was me.

Mask of Azazel: Active.

Welcome to the Stellarae Enclave, Emery LeeRoy. You are hereby recognized as an authorized user, with the rank of Delegate. Your direct superior is: %ERROR% Arx Maxima, if you have any questions, please contact your superior.

Personnel file… updated.

Compensation benefits… updated.

Housing options… updated.

Welcome to the Stellarae Enclave, where the Universe is One.

You meet the criteria to advance to the rank of Herald. Please visit the nearest Talent Management Office to receive your promotion.

The voice that spoke into my head sounded an awful lot like Arx Maxima, but with a slightly different, more subservient tone. I imagined it as if Arx Maxima were attempting to be calming and helpful.

“Are you okay?” Chrys asked. I suspected not for the first time, as my senses of the world around me all kicked back in. My senses had changed. My sense of smell had sharpened dramatically, I could smell the sweat on my own body, the foul smell of my own terror making me grimace.

“I think so,” I muttered. When I lifted my hands up to touch my face again, I noticed the thin layer of mist that ran over my skin and looked as if I had scales. Was this the protective barrier of the mask, or were the physical changes to my body still in process?

“I warned you it was cursed,” Chrys reiterated, but she slowly approached me, and the table. “Gold is not your color.”

“Agreed. Your visual appeal has decreased, despite the acquisition of the beautiful face of Azazel. Not everyone can pull off gold.” Arx Maxima dog piled on, and her crystal form seemed to shine even more deeply golden than usual.

I took a deep breath, then another. I tried not to lose it. I liked the way I looked. Sure, my facial features had been slightly effeminate, and I looked a lot more like my gorgeous mother than my manly father, but in a very handsome human way. A small part of me, way, way in the back, wanted to break down and sob. Tears did not form in my eyes, and I continued to breathe deeply.

“You did warn me,” I agreed with Chrys after a minute of awkward silence while I regained my composure. My voice sounded different. Deeper. Sharper. The size of my tongue had changed, along with the number, position, and layout of all my teeth.

“How did you overcome the curse? There’s not a single speck of cursed energy remaining. May I touch it?” Chrys stopped next to my table, and half lifted one of her lithe blue-green-copper hands towards my face.

“Sure, go ahead,” I muttered. I still owed her for the whole thigh touching incident.

Chrys had the grace of an artisan when she touched my new face and tapped at it.

“It seems to be part of you now, and yet also, not. Would you like me to see if I can improve the match between you and the Mask? One of my abilities, Morphic Resonance, allows me to alter the physical and spiritual aspects of equipment to better match their owner.”

“Yes, please!” I didn’t want a gold face, but more than that, what could match me more than my own face, right?

I felt an outside power flow from Chrys into my face. It felt like a soft breeze, or a warm breath. Gentle, refreshing, even invigorating.

Outside influences wish to enhance Mask of Azazel. Do you consent?

Yes, I thought at the mask.

“All of the resistance fell away, interesting,” Chrys mumbled right after I consented to allowing changes to the item. Then warmth suffused my face, like a hot towel used by the barbers, only it wasn’t just on the surface of my face but all of my head. A rush of excitement filled me at the idea I could look at my own face in the mirror again!

Only, I couldn’t, could I? I’d just see Amaranthine’s beautiful features looking at me, judging me, mocking me, toying with me. The most gorgeous woman in the world, who could leave me drooling with a glance. No, Amaranthine wasn’t that beautiful, but the glamour of her personage made me feel that way every time I saw her, even a dim reflection in glass. I was so enthralled that even the sight of her curves in my shadow made my heart beat a little bit faster. Pathetic.

Whatever Chrys did, I couldn’t feel any melting, burning, or searing this time. Nothing like my mouth rearranging itself, or my bones reknitting. Perhaps her power had more of a gentle touch to it, than the evil seeming power of the Mask of Azazel.

“All done, what do you think?” Chrys gestured and copper flowed from her hand to form a smooth finished copper mirror. It wasn’t as perfect as a glass mirror, but it would have sufficed. Only it wasn’t my own face looking back at me.

A surprised Amaranthine regarded me. For a brief second she seemed confused, the intrigued. Her image leaned forward in the mirror, one of her clawed finger nails tapped against her lower lip in thought, before she nodded in approval. The open, aggressive, approval of her gauge would have left me a blushing mess before, but I didn’t have any skin on my face in the way I had previously.

“I like it,” Amaranthine said. “Come see me soon.”

Chrys dismissed the mirror.

“I forgot you’re tied to a Mist Lord, sorry.” Chrys apologized.

“No, it’s alright. You didn’t do anything wrong, but as you can see.. I can’t see myself. How did I change?” I asked hopefully, but given Amaranthine’s reaction, I didn’t think I’d reverted to human.

“Your appearance is the same, mostly? Only now you have black scales, with purple accents. The horns are black, with gold ornamentation, and it looks like you’re growing a purple mane? Definitely look like a dragon, or dragonoid, now.”

“Your coloration has dramatically improved,” Arx Maxima agreed. “You look very masculine, Emery. Even downright beautiful by the beauty standards of the Void Dragons of Tenebris.”

I took a deep breath, and then another.

“What next?” I asked.

“Lord Granix would like to speak with you before you depart Schieferon, and I want to come with you,” Chrys answered quickly, and with a bombshell.

“We need more allies, more of my fragments, and if possible, more of Azazel’s or other of my Envoy’s legacies.” Arx Maxima replied. “If you wish to save your brother, the clock on removing the concepts of Mithras is ticking.”

I took a deep breath, then lifted one of the stonefruit off the table. I bit straight into it, my newly reshaped and reforged teeth ripping through the stony exterior of the melon as if it were the thinnest of paper. It made a satisfying crunch when I chewed, that almost matched the pure joy of the sweet, invigorating juice of the stonefruit gushing over my tastebuds.

Reminder: Please visit the nearest Talent Management Office to receive your promotion.