The sounds of stones tumbling and wood breaking were drowned away by his soft, but deafening, sobbing. He could hardly see through his own tears and the crimson fog that obscured his vision and muted his surroundings. He didn’t care that he couldn’t feel his limbs, that there were wisps of shadows squeezing from his forcibly agape mouth, and that there was broken stone, metal, flesh, and wood all around him. Instead he just sobbed, a sound that seemed to reverberate through his skull and dull everything, wallowing in his misery. 

       Raylen didn’t understand. He just wanted to help. To give his family something. To do something.

       He could barely see the image of a lithe elven woman dashing towards him, before he felt a jolt of electricity run through his body, briefly filling him with a physical pain that he welcomed as the crimson fog that obscured his eyes became a bright cerulean. He felt the muscles on his neck strain, beginning to rip before softly smiling to himself. It was what he deserved, and he would be able to rest like his family.

       But before this sanctimonious act could be completed, the world that was previously background noise to his sobbing suddenly rushed into full volume as the fog lifted from his eyes. He could see the bright sun once again for just a moment, before everything turned to black and he felt himself falling into unconsciousness, shadows darting after him.

       “Mreow”

       “Hush Archimedes, we should let him rest,” Puvhal said with a wave of his hand, disregarding the clay homunculus that sat in a small cushion elevated on the wall, now having all of his limbs back. Archimedes let out a small growl in response, his hackles raised as he glared at the malnourished boy that lay in bed, his neck reddened and bruised from some of the muscles that almost tore completely, only visible due to the candles Puvhal had lit. Puvhal sat on a wooden stool next to the bed, along with a side table with a small jade cup and a single wax candle.

       “…meow”

       “No, the doctors wouldn’t help him. He doesn’t have coin and he doesn’t have a family anymore. We’re going to look after him until he gets his bearings. It’s the least we can do Archimedes,” Puvhal stated while side-eyeing Archimedes who simply huffed and turned around to face the wall.

      “It’s not like he’s going to stay here forever. He just needs some time and we’re going to give that to him,” Puvhal explained as he drew a small mandala on the wooden side table next to the bed, drawing from the topaz and ruby mixture and causing the small jade cup to heat up into a soft amber color, causing the tea within it to practically boil. Puvhal knew that he should be looking for another Collector assignment; he wasn’t going to get any recognition or pay from the Dwimor for tending to this child, but there was something about him. Not only was it the right thing to do, but he had some characteristic about him that seemed different. Even while unconscious, peacefully sleeping, he had a presence that surrounded him that made Puvhal feel strangely nervous. Like it was dangerous to be around him, but he didn’t know why. It peaked Puvhal’s curiosity, for better or for worse.

       His thoughts were cut off by a soft groan, as Archimedes immediately gripped the side of his cushion and looked down at the boy with pointed ears and wide eyes. The boy reached up and rubbed his eyes before slowly blinking and opening them; to reveal pitch black irises that seemed to leak tendrils of black into his sclera. At first he furrowed his brows, looking down at his clean hands and the neatly folded large bed he was in. Then he looked up and saw the tall room, with strange crystal and copper piping that ran along the edges, with no holes in the ceiling. And he quickly sat up and pushed himself away when he saw Puvhal, this hulking grey figure.

       “Uh. Hello there. Tea?” Puvhal nervously spoke before taking the hot jade cup in his hand and offering it to the boy, trying not to stare at his eyes. He felt like he would’ve noticed that beforehand. The boy simply stared back at Puvhal before speaking, his voice shaky and unsure.

       “What are you?”

       “Oh. Uh, I’m a Goliath by technicality. It’s a… type of giant-kin. I’m mainly an Alchemist, Transmuter, and a Collector.”

       The boy just slowly blinked in response, looking down at his hands with incredulity. There were a few moments of silence as he just thought to himself, and Puvhal just set down the little jade cup and let him think and be in his thoughts for a moment. It was the least he could do. After a minute, black tears began to trail down his face. He spoke barely above a whisper, his eyes trailing down to sheets at his feet.

       “Why am I alive..?”

       Puvhal stood up straight in his chair, taking a deep breath before reaching out and putting his massive hand on the boy’s shoulder, resisting the urge to recoil at how cold his skin felt.

       “Because you deserve to live. You’re a person. It’s as simple as that.”

       There was another prolonged moment of silence as the answer didn’t seem to sit well with him before Puvhal spoke again.

       “What’s your name?”

       “…Raylen.”

       “Well Raylen, I’m Puvhal. Although I didn’t have a near-death experience with an ancient artifact like you did, I was told I shouldn’t be able to live, and I know how it feels questioning why you’re alive in the first place.”

       At this, Raylen turned his head to look at Puvhal, briefly bewildered that anyone could feel what he was feeling. Puvhal simply held a spiteful smirk with painful nostalgia in his eyes.

       “W-What do you mean…? You’re a noble… No one would talk to you like that” Raylen muttered with his brows furrowed.

       “No, I’m not a noble. I’m a Collector. I collect stuff for the Dwimor when it goes missing and I get rewarded. I earned my coin, I didn’t inherit it,” Puvhal explained.

       “When I came to this city, I was beaten and ridiculed for saying that I was a practitioner of magic. I even had a Diviner look at me, and they said that the well of magical energy that is present in every living thing was nearly dry within me. They said I didn’t have any talents and that I should’ve gone back to wherever giants go, like I was ‘supposed’ to.”

       “What do you mean you got beaten? You’re huge! You could kick the crap out of anyone!”

       “Not quite. I have extremely fragile bones. They break and fracture at barely anything. So as a Goliath, I wasn’t considered exactly ideal in the eyes of my family. I was expected to be a man, to protect my clan and… Well you can’t really protect anyone if falling over breaks a dozen bones,” Puvhal said with a bitter laugh.

       “I’m…sorry,” Raylen muttered.

       “It’s nothing to be sorry about, I assure you. Although yes, it did suck, and it does suck, those things don’t define who I am. I made myself strong and kept moving forward. I figured out how to do this,” Puvhal said with a soft smile as he opened his coat, revealing the crystal syringe bonded to his arm that held the rubber tube that connected to the various crystal mixtures on his waist. Raylen’s eyes widened as he looked upon these wonderful creations, and strangely, he felt hope, as the candlelight flickered from a soft wind. Puvhal, to Raylen, felt familiar. A lot cooler, well-put together, and smart, but Raylen just felt like he knew him. Puvhal grinned at Raylen’s beginnings of a smile and handed him the jade cup.

       “Tea?”

       “Um… sure. I’ve never had tea before.”

       “Oh I’m sure you’ll love it. Well like I was saying, although many said I deserved to die and sometimes… Sometimes I did feel like I deserved to die, I kept moving forward. I found what was unique about me and I found myself. It wasn’t anything that I would ever think that I would be, but it is who I am. And you’re not defined by what happened to you. You couldn’t control that. You’re defined by who you want to be, and what you do to realize that.”

       Raylen nodded softly as he began to take small sips of tea, before wrinkling his nose and shaking his head, setting the cup down on the table.

       “Ah. I see,” Puvhal chuckled. “Not sweet enough?”

       “No, it tastes fine. It’s just really cold,” Raylen muttered. Puvhal raised an eyebrow and reached for the jade cup. It was cold to the touch.

       Puvhal paused. “Raylen… Do you remember what your eye color was?”

       Raylen frowned, and tilted his head. “Brown I think. Why?”

       “Uh… That’s concerning…” Puvhal said with a nervous chuckle.

       “Is having brown eyes unlucky? I know it’s boring but I didn’t think it was a bad thing though.”

       “No, that’s not it. Your eyes are just… black.” Puvhal paused for a moment. “Like completely black.”

       Raylen was silent, the candlelight beginning to flicker again.

       “What do you mean..?” Raylen said, the words not quite finding purchase in him.

       Puvhal hesitated before tracing a small mandala with his fingers in the air, drawing from the silver and quartz mixture, as the mathematical rune slowly dripped into a circular, silver mirror in front of Raylen. Raylen’s breath began to quicken and the candlelight began to flicker again. This time Puvhal looked down and saw that there were stygian wisps that seemed to batter the candlelight, being thrust from Raylen’s direction.

       Puvhal nervously glanced in Raylen’s direction, trying to sound comforting as he spoke, “Raylen, It’s okay. Calm down.”

       “What’s wrong with me… why are my eyes black? You took that thing off me…” Raylen whispered, quivering as he looked at his reflection. Those eyes were not his own, and he looked in abject horror at his shivering hands as inky shadows dripped from his fingertips.

       “Hey… it’s okay. Just look at me.” Puvhal said, waving his hand and making the mirror disappear into nothing but specks of silver. Raylen still just sat there, shivering and looking at his hands that birthed inky maggots that wriggled, grasped, and flew outwards before dissipating into nothing. At this point Archimedes was standing up, claws digging into the cushion, ready to fly at Raylen, but Puvhal glared at Archimedes not to. Puvhal didn’t understand, but he knew that this was not normal, and he needed to see more. He drew from the citrine and azurite mixture as his fingers each individually drew complex mandalas in front of his forehead, before pressing the runic circles into his skin and revealing his third eye. With it, he kept his mortal eyes closed and touched two of his fingers to the forehead of Raylen, and it was all revealed to him.

       Where Puvhal was told that he had a puddle dried in the summer heat, Raylen had a lake of boundless depths. Deep, briny, and black waters that were twice as potent as Puvhal’s drippings of springwater. It clicked why he felt so uncomfortable around him. He harbored so much raw magic, and he had never once used it or realized its existence. It was blocked from him, and it practically overflowed into the world, the waters sloshing and frothing, pouring over onto the beaches of reality through subtle displays of magic beheld by raw emotion. And something had finally broken that barrier and awakened it. But Puvhal wasn’t the only one who could begin to see.

       Raylen felt like he was pulled back and ripped from his body. He could see his shivering form, his pitch black eyes and the shadows that dripped from his fingers. He saw Puvhal’s closed eyes with a glowing sigil on his forehead and two fingers pressed against Raylen’s forehead. And Raylen began to remember. The fog that plagued his memory had begun to be burned by the light Puvhal shed.

. . .

       “Hexes and curses in place. His growth should be stunted now. Should we be worried about the bakery?”

       “No, but let’s not take any chances. Poison the cows and block their shipments. Make it seem like the merchants they got it from were robbed or something. Black out the name of the bakery in the Noblemen’s District.”

       “They’re already commoners, do you think that this is really necessary?”

       “Maybe not, but this’ll ensure he never taps into what he possesses. Not until we need him to.”

       “You know this paralyzation doesn’t stop him from hearing all of this.”

       “We’ll just wipe his memory. He’ll never be able to afford high clerical work, not if we have anything to do about it. We’ll siphon coins from their reserves with dopplegangers to ensure that.”

       “Aren’t you worried that his family will just drop him off on the streets?”

       “No, they love him. That’ll help when we need him to break. Plus, even if they did that would just add to the misery and self-loathing and we’ll find comparable results.”

       “And we’re testing Fames, right?”

       “No, we’re testing Tenebrae. It hasn’t bonded to any of the professors like Fames did, so it’s probably based around self-preservation, not how powerful the host is.”

       “Alright. I’ll wipe the kid’s memory. You go let the parents know that he doesn’t have any abilities and won’t be chosen for Dwimor Initiates.”

. . .

       With a guttural yell Raylen forced himself back into his body and pushed back Puvhal back, his arm swinging out to his right, led by his rage and frustration which guided the shadows into an inky whip that tore the side table in half as if it were wet paper. Raylen gritted his teeth, pitch-like tears blurring his vision as he slowly pushed his way out of the bed.

       “Those bastards…” Raylen whispered, his words cutting the air like knives as he stood, shaking in anger.

       “Raylen… What are you talking about?” Puvhal questioned as the sigil faded from his own forehead, his movements slow and deliberate as  he realized he was rather close to an arcane bomb.

       “Those Dwimor bastards… They set this all up. I’m just a fucking experiment to them…” Raylen chuckled, the sound ringing with contempt, as he looked down at his hands, the gloomy shadows dancing upon his fingertips like flames as they matched his anger.

       “Hold on Raylen. You’re not defined by them. You’re your own person… think for a minute,” Puvhal said with his palms extended outwards, now taking a small step back, his fingers aching to weave protective sigils, but he knew any movement could trigger him. Raylen scoffed and glared at Puvhal, anger, frustration, and deep grief set like stone in his eyes.

       “They wanted to see if I was compatible. Well looks like I am. And I think I know what I want to be, and how to realize it,” Raylen spat, his voice dripping with malice and hate.

       “Ah ah ah ah… I get what you’re saying, they are kinda bastards, but I don’t know if they would go that far. Let’s just sit down and think for just a moment-”

       Puvhal was cut off by the hissing of one of his crystal containers as it began to drain, and he heard his programmed illusion begin to speak once more, this time drowned out by a desperate, and familiar, yelling voice.

       “Puvhal open up this goddamn door right now!” 

       Puvhal chuckled nervously and glanced at Raylen who was smirking to himself, looking down at his hands and fantasizing about whose throat he could throttle with them, before Puvhal quickly glanced up at Archimedes who just nodded and kept his locked eyes on Raylen. Puvhal dashed downstairs and opened the door.

      Leaning against the doorway was the familiar sight of Kysira, her hair pulled back and underneath Dwimor robes that were two sizes too large for her, her face smeared with makeup that accentuated her jawline and made her look more masculine, and her eyes a dull brown that seemed to cover her golden irises just behind them if Puvhal looked closely. The robes, and the leathers she had underneath, were singed, cut, and slashed, and she was holding her shoulder, where blood was dripping from between her white knuckles, several shafts of crossbow bolts embedded into her thigh and calf.

       Her voice was desperate and ragged as she looked Puvhal dead in the eyes.

       “Where did you put the kid?”