Young Flame

With practised strokes, Leal sliced another series of lines through the thick hide of her neck. The numbing agent worked wonders, suppressing the small, involuntary muscle twitches that normally occurred when stabbing yourself with a blade. She’d long become comfortable carving away her skin — now not even needing to shave first — but there were some natural reactions that didn’t disappear no matter how often she redrew her Markings.

Beneath all Leal’s fur, she probably scarred herself enough now that there was less undamaged skin than not. She didn’t care; as long as she could continue experimenting without issue, she would. If she ever faced a problem because of the scarring, she would put in a request for the balm used by the mages beyond the northern border. Neither albanic, khirig, nor dohrni had the fur to hide their marred bodies.

She delicately lined the skin-deep wounds with Marking ink, the bleeding of the cuts already stymied by the oil applied to the blade. Without such oil, it was likely the ink would seep into her veins; something that would reduce the effect of, or in some cases prevent, the Marking’s operation.

Her current project was one she’d been working on ever since she’d returned from the wasteland so many months ago. Technically, she’d been unsuccessful in all her experiments so far, but that wasn’t to say she’d been unproductive. Leal’s current Marking addition was only a very slight change which altered the sensitivity of the Marking’s receiver. It acted as somewhat of a siphon for a particular theoretical type of energy. Well, it was supposed to. Her proof of concept still had to become that: a proof of concept.

Leal’s experience back at that island beyond the wasteland had been frightening, but… but she couldn’t deny the incredible inspiration it had given. The feeling of that Anatla climbing up her leg was not exactly something she should want to experience again. She knew that. But the completely alien energy was just far too tempting.

Calling it ‘energy’ was wrong, but she had no other way to describe it unless she dipped into the realm of metaphorical. Energy — like any of the known hyle — was the closest descriptor, so energy it was.

Its existence disproved many of the current theories surrounding hyle, including those regarding how it worked and what it was. From that brief time it had passed through her leg, her analyses determined that the energy interacted with hyle, but wasn’t hyle itself. That should be impossible under their current models.

Sure, she could assume it was just some strange phenomena brought about by another realm interacting with theirs, but it was a predictable interaction — it spread through her flesh in a measurable and consistent timescale — therefore regardless of whether it was an alien energy or not, it was still affected by the laws of nature. Laws that accounted for its interaction meant that both Leal’s and the Anatla’s realms weren’t so entirely separate.

Essentially, the Anatla’s energy could exist without the world tearing itself apart, so their theories were wrong.

Of course, without experimental proof, she couldn’t disprove the elemental hyle model that described the formation of everything. That was her goal; a way to collect the Anatla energy to test with.

She had some theories of her own about what that energy exactly was, and did, based on the way it had grown her fur and grew the claws of her feet almost to appear like the fossils of her ancient ancestors, but nothing she was confident in as of yet. Once she could get her hands on some of that energy — some of it that wasn’t permeated with the will of some vicious otherworldly creature — she had so many ideas she wanted to play around with.

Only issue: Leal couldn’t collect any.

She didn’t know if her Markings were flawed in some way, or the energy was entirely limited to the other realm, but she’d gone so many months now without results, and Leal’s father was getting worried. She loved him, but just because she preferred to get lost in her work in the attic of their new home along the southern coast, didn’t mean she was unhappy.

No, she was unhappy because her project wasn’t working.

With the ink drying in her neck, Leal lathered the marking with a salve that should prevent the cut from getting infected, and stepped away from the mirror. She expected little from this change, but it should direct her toward any collection of Anatla energy hidden out in the world. It wasn’t nearly as accurate as that inscription Solvei needed to flood with unreasonable amounts of fire hyle, but it would do.

Of course, the only way for it to operate was to get out and feel for the difference. So, for the first time in weeks, Leal left her home.

There was the usual clamour of voices and equipment coming from the docks. Leal’s dad was likely amongst the workers, and would probably encourage her to help should he see her.

She turned the other way.

It wasn’t that Leal didn’t like helping their efforts, but there was always something more to do. Her research would never advance if she offered her mage talents any more than the rare occasion. Plus, no matter her experience, being at the centre of attention was never something she enjoyed.

Leal ran through the city streets until the beach came into sight. There were a few ursu walking about, but none along the rough sands. The southern ocean waters were icy, especially so in the middle of winter; not exactly ideal swimming conditions. But it was perfect for Leal. Without others to pester her, she could test her altered Marking for all it was worth.

So, while paying close attention to the readings she felt through her hide, Leal ran along the sand. She’d prefer to walk, but that would mean far slower measurements. Not something she would sit by.

This version would work, Leal was sure of it. Not that she hadn’t been any less sure with her other iterations, but this one would be different. If she could just get the tiniest little slice of Anatla energy, it would do so much. It might explain the Void Fog, and give people a method to detect the carriers. Such a creation could save entire cities from the Fog’s sudden appearance.

Leal barely paid attention to where she placed her feet, too consumed by her Marking’s readings. Nothing had shown itself through the noise yet, and while she’d like to point out the very existence of that noise as proof of the Anatla energy’s presence in their world, it was just as likely system noise interfering with the signal. Her own heartbeat could be messing with the sensor more than she’d accounted for.

An inscription might have been more optimal for removing unwanted sources of interference, but they wouldn’t give anywhere near the level of interactivity nor natural understanding of what moved through your body. She’d need a far more complex analysis subsystem to achieve even similar results… and, well, she simply wasn’t as good with inscriptions.

But that was fine. Markings were better, and they were all one needed.

Leal lost track of time as she ran. It was surprising how far she could run now without exhausting herself. After army basic training, she’d not exactly been unfit, but she couldn’t be called an athlete. She’d been all too happy to accept Solvei’s offered rituals while she’d travelled with her, but her focus had always been on the improved hyle capacity, not her improved body.

She understood mages typically weren’t physically enhanced by a quirk of the way either the Inheritance Ritual worked — or maybe the way their bodies accepted the energy — so the boost to her stamina and strength had been a surprise. Despite being smaller and weighing far less than most other ursu, she’d probably be able to beat her father in a competition of strength… maybe.

Solvei had been generous with those meals.

Leal tripped as a deafening shatter ripped over the land. Her face met sand, held down by the unbelievable presence momentarily flooding through her. The overwhelming sensation was horrible, almost enough to make her lose her lunch… had she eaten any. But no, that was unimportant.

The Marking was peaking.

It was off the charts. The amount of Anatla energy flooding through her Markings was beyond anything she ever expected. The spike of energy only lasted an instant, but it topped out all detectors she’d integrated into her hide, even the obscenely low sensitivity one she’d included for a failed test. Her battery — a standard hyle type redesigned for this new energy — maxed out, then emptied within a blink of an eye.

Leal was… beyond stunned. An equivalent amount of energy in earth hyle could create a mountain from nothing. And yet, it was gone so soon.

This was the energy of that green-eyed storm. Leal had no doubt.

She realised her face was still in the sand and jumped up, gasping for breath. Leal thought the energy was gone, but that new Marking she’d carved was still flaring like mad. She snapped her head to the southern coast, where a beam of light tore between ocean and sky.

Leal didn’t know what she was looking at. The beam flickered between colours every moment, as if unable to decide what it wanted to be. Air around it seemed to flicker between day and night, stormy and clear. Nothing about it seemed to remain constant. At some points, it felt like a gust of wind blowing out from it, then the next it was still, or pulling inward.

The only thing she did know, was that beam exuded immense quantities of Anatla energy. Not to the scale of the first burst, but still impressive. Her Markings soaked up the energy like wasteland sands did water. The feel of it was distinct from the green-eyed storm, but she couldn’t point out any particular discrepancies. She just knew it was different.

Leal, in all her excitement, realised far too late that experimentation with the energy of beings beyond comprehension may not have been the best idea.

The energy flooded her body. It expanded out from the Markings that collected it and wormed its way through her other, unrelated Markings, before consuming every part of her. In time, with the flickering changes of the massive pillar of light to the south, Leal felt her body change. Before her eyes, the Markings glowing beneath her fur twisted, reforming into different, unfamiliar lines.

Then, it suddenly didn’t seem odd. It didn’t change again, but the Marking appeared exactly as she’d always known. She was a fire mage. That wasn’t strange. Why did she have the markings she recognised from water mages a moment ago? Why had this energy reverted it back?

Her fingers were bare of fur, scarred from thousands of experiments, but that wasn’t strange. Well, it wasn’t until those fingers grew thicker, regaining the lost fur. Large, like her father’s. It was strange, until again, it wasn’t. The size of his hands wasn’t odd; he was taller than his father, after all.

Leath swung his sword over his shoulder, staring over the ocean as he felt tremors through his legs. An earthquake? Was that strange light to the south the cause? He wondered what it was. How was it linked to that intense shattering of glass?

Each flicker of light brought a new change. Taller, shorter, reappeared Markings, differing genders. It didn’t matter. To Leal, they seemed natural. Eventually, the twisting forms stopped. The light of the pillar continued to flicker, but Leal did not.

This was it! Leal looked at the pillar of holy light as it illuminated the land with its divine touch. Their gods were coming. The true gods that would bring damnation to the Titans and free this world of parasites. She could hardly contain her glee. To be so close, to feel the warmth of the holy Anatla’s touch filling her being was beyond anything she imagined. She almost broke down in jubilant tears right on the spot.

She was right. They’d always treated her as insane, as a liar, but Deivos and Rod are the lies. The proof was right in front of her.

Leal opened herself to the Monolith Anatla, allowing its energy to course through her body without restraint. And it did. It spread through every pore and burnt through the earth below her, taking hold where it couldn’t before. It clung to the sand, and she watched in awe as it mimicked the pillar, flickering between alternative possibilities.

Her feet felt grass, then they were submerged in a small pond of water. It switched between rock, bare soil, then returned to sand. All the while, Leal felt blessed to witness such a divine miracle. She wanted to experiment with it, but had to bury such sinful, heretical thoughts. If the mighty Monolith Anatla wished her to wield its power, then she would, but only then.

A rumble echoed behind her, along with increased tremors through her feet, but she dare not take her eyes from the deity before her. It was descending, joining them in the mortal plane, and she wouldn’t miss a second of it.

There was a crack. The Anatla’s energy stopped spreading. Leal looked down at the inscriptions she’d designed explicitly to help the god spread its influence through her, concerned that there might be an issue, but they seemed fine.

Leal squeaked in fear as the Anatla’s energy flooded through her again, this time burning with unbidden rage. She’d felt its glee as it descended and had bathed in the feeling. But now it stung as it ripped through her body.

Then, all rage disappeared from the holy energy. So too did the pillar of flickering light.

The power of the god remained, but it felt like the divine ruler was gone. Leal panicked. No. It couldn’t leave so soon after arriving. She needed to prove she was right. She’d been right when everyone had disbelieved her. They treated her as insane. She didn’t want to go back to that.

Twisting around in desperation, her eyes landed on the glowing crimson moon. It tripled in size, growing until nothing but the bleeding moon consumed her sight. Leal yanked her head, trying to tear away her eyes, but it didn’t work. No matter what she tried, her sight never left the red orb.

Leal gasped, and suddenly she was back. Her gaze dropped to her body, hurriedly checking the Markings lining her body. She let out a relieved breath. She didn’t have that accursed design that invited the Anatla to do whatever it wished with her body. No, she only had her water Markings… and those that collected the alien energy.

Her body was still flooded with the Anatla’s energy, but like the ground beneath her, the changes were occurring less often. Less often, but they were still happening.

As her hand grew large again within a blink, she flicked her sight back to the glowing moon, and thankfully found the change reverting.

Not tearing her sight from the moon — which seemed to be the only thing keeping her safe — she commanded the Markings she’d designed to direct the Anatla’s energy through her body.

She should really toss it all away. Her memories were foggy, but Leal never wanted to treat some Armageddon causing beings as the focus of worship again. She should do everything in her power to stop herself returning to that state of mind, but… it was too tempting.

Leal gathered the Anatla’s energy into the battery she’d made for it. After a few seconds of it not changing her, she relaxed.

That… was horrible. She could remember her thoughts in the past few minutes, but she couldn’t understand the origin of them. It was like the different versions of herself had completely distinct memories. Her cultist alternative was horrible; she’d been unstable, desperate, vulnerable. Worse than Leal had ever felt. And yet, she couldn’t deny that it had still been her.

Leal’s gaze dropped from the deep crimson moon to the Alps below. Weren’t they a little bigger last she looked? Probably just a trick of the eye.

What was that? Had the Anatla actually almost broken through? Was it the moon that stopped them?

Whatever it was, Leal had more important things to worry about. She glanced down to the battery Marking along her shoulders, where it glowed with alternating colours.

She had some experimenting to do.