Fuck my family.
The thought was a bitter scribble in Ryckel's mind. Struck out like spilled ink on a ruined canvas.
Where am I?
His head throbbed. Each heartbeat was a hammer-blow. He forced his eyes open, but the darkness stayed.
This wasn't the soft shadow of his forge. It was a matte void. Thick, heavy ink poured into his eyes and sealed with lead.
Ryckel's heart slammed against his ribs.
Am I dead?
He blinked.
He clawed at the air. Nothing but a silent abyss.
"Am I... blind?"
He put his hand right in front of his face.
He saw nothing.
He shouted. The sound was muffled. The damp heat of his own breath hit his skin in a humid wave.
He reached up. His fingers traced his face, brushing against hard rubber and cold metal. Two cylinders stuck out from his jaw like the mandibles of an insect.
A gas mask.
There was only one reason to wear this: the Bleeding Hour. The time when the world drowned in the Red Dark, the lethal mist that turned men into monsters.
Blind, alone, and trapped in the mists.
Nice going, Ryckel.
Then, the memories flooded back in crooked strokes.
The Culling. The annual slaughter of red streaks. Lives snuffed out like candles in the wind for 'resource management.'
His family had always been exempt. They paid their tributes. They only ever heard the screams from a distance.
But this year, someone had put Ryckel's family on the canvas.
He remembered the Hussar, Syrion. The man had promised to spare them. Ryckel had fought---or tried to. He remembered a desperate swing of his leg and then…
Blackness.
Gullible fool.
Ryckel cursed at himself.
But something was different. The voices, the constant, rhythmic chanting that had plagued his skull for years were gone.
The hive in his head was quiet. For the first time, Ryckel could hear himself think.
I like the sound of my own voice.
He realized. A crooked smirk formed behind the mask.
As he thought of the missing voices, a pull tugged at his gut. He followed an instinct he didn't understand.
Suddenly, the darkness broke.
White flames erupted. They didn't light up the cave, but they formed words made of cold light.
The script was alien, yet the meaning
flooded his brain.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Name: Ryckel
Race: Human
Affinity: Qist
Synapse Grade: [Igniter]
Glyphs: [10/500]
Compilers' Hearth: [Not eligible]
Greater Will: [#$€|]
Marks: [Exalt]
Lesser Wills: —
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Synapse Grade. Igniter. Wills. Exalt?! He didn't know what they meant.
Only the affinity, Qist.
He knew the stories. Ancient runes and elements bending like submissive dogs to a whistle.
How did I become an Attuned?
The questions were a mountain, but he didn't have time to climb. He had to survive. Ryckel shook his head, and the white fire vanished.
He dropped to all fours. His palms hit the cold, gritty stone. No wind. A cave, then.
He crawled backward, seeking a wall. His fingers traced a hard, textured surface covered in pebble-like bumps. He followed the curve until his hand slipped into a moist, squishy opening.
He reached inside.
His knuckles grazed a row of sharp, dull edges. Like the knife held to his throat during the Culling.
Teeth.
He recoiled with a yelp, scuffling away in the dirt. He had sketched these textures a thousand times.
A creature of the mists…
"A Zhenren?! What is a Zhenren doing here?!"
He waited for a roar. Only his own frantic breathing answered.
It was dead.
"The situations I get myself into..."
He scrambled to a wall and pulled himself upright. He wasn't going to die crawling.
As he edged along the rock, he thought of his family.
Were they alive? A grave seemed more likely.
Then he was cut short why a noise.
Clack. Clack.
Footsteps against grit.
Ryckel had no weapon. No sight. He was a sitting duck.
Friend or foe? Human or monster?
Without waiting to find out, he hurried back to where he first woke up, hoping to use the head to even the playing fields.
He pressed his spine against the cold chitin of the dead monster's head and raised his fists.
I can't die without biting back.
"Who's there?" he demanded. "Why are you here?"
The footsteps stopped. Silence. Then, the air shifted. Something was standing directly in front of him.
T-That fast?!
"Oh, that's right. You can't see me." A short, dry chuckle. "Always forget about that."
A long yawn followed.
Ryckel froze. A woman's voice.
An amber spark erupted into a blooming flame. The warmth pushed the shadows back into the cracks of the rock.
Ryckel squinted. His eyes stung as they fought the light. The fire sat tamely in her palm like a loyal hound.
She was an Attuned. Just like him.
But there was a better realization: He could see.
Joy sketched its way up from his gut. He wasn't broken. He focused on the woman to celebrate his sight.
She wore a heavy travel cloak over a tarnished breastplate. Her skin was a deep bronze, framed by long, black hair.
Then, his fascination turned to cold wariness.
Her bronze skin was mapped with streaks of sickening green ichor. On her shoulder, lumps of organic matter clung to her armor like parasites.
Her skin…Is she a noble? What's a noble doing here?
"Now, you can see better?" She flashed a white-toothed smile. "I don't bite. Usually."
Ryckel didn't lower his fists. If he was still breathing, it was because she allowed it.
"What do you want? Who are you?" He said.
The woman's smile flattened. "Oh, you're finally awake. Damn brat."
She didn't give a name. She just turned, the fire moving with her. "Follow me, or don't. Stay here and rot in the dark. It's your business."
She walked deeper into the cave. The light grew dimmer. The blackness began to reclaim the space.
Tch. I need her.
Ihate it…being dependent.
But I have no other choice...
He moved to follow, but curiosity hooked him. He looked back at the 'wall' he had been leaning against.
The last edge of the firelight washed over the shape.
His breath hitched.
The Zhenren wasn't a creature waiting in the shadows. It was just a head.
The massive skull had been severed cleanly at the neck. It was wedged into the tunnel mouth like a grotesque cork.
Through the gaps, thin fingers of the Red Dark reached in, clawing at the air.
Ryckel looked from the dead eyes of the monster to the back of the woman walking away.
What kind of monster could do this?
---The End of Chapter 1---