Chapter 27

There are dozens, if not hundreds, of different roles in the field of magic study and technology advancement. Among the most well-known and renowned fields of work are the Malloricks. Malloricks are essentially myst engineers and inventors. These men and women not only study and design enchantments but also are the foremost specialists in the advancement of mystech in all forms. Malloricks have a reputation for being what many would call insane.

Another well-known field of magical study that carries with it a degree of fame is that of the Mystgentist. These scientists study the uses of magic in all forms. Mystgenists dig deep into the laws and reactions of pure magical power and how different elements interact with each other in various ways.

I’m embarrassed to say that I failed to realize the drastic change to my body other than the amputations until I had hobbled my way into the bathroom. It was six in the morning, and I had been up all night reading. I hopped my way into the bathroom linked to my bedroom for some simple business only a living creature could do. I hobbled into the tight space, wearing nothing but a pair of underwear, ready to drop onto the toilet, only turning on the light to make sure I didn’t accidentally trip over the shower curtain. The bulb in the room flashed into life with a brush of my fingers against the control plate, and I almost passed by the mirror without a second glance, but I noticed something strange.

I locked eyes with my reflection before my sight tracked up to the reflection of my brow. I stared at the change. I was dumbstruck for several long moments as I tried to figure out what in the nine hells was going on with my face. My horns, before that point, had been small. The little, pointed nubs just under my hairline had always been a painful reminder of my tainted blood. What I saw just above my eyes were not simple little nubs. Each horn had gone through an infernal growth spurt that made my jaw drop in shock.

Before, my horns were an inch in diameter and an inch and a half tall with a slight curve. The standard look from any devil in a piece of art you would find from the late Age of Hungry Iron until midway through the Age of Steel’s Grasp. The kind of art that depicted devils seducing maidens and devouring children.

The twin nightmares that burst from my brow were far worse. The diameter of each horn had at least doubled in width. These new horns curved back, parallel with the slope of my skull, before rising up in sharp tips near the rear of my dome. Standard demon horns would have been shocking enough, but this was a degree above and beyond. These horrifying protrusions from my skull were tiered. Each tier of bone was slightly smaller than the one below it, and each of them curved up into a barb at the front or top.

I had seen Darklings with horns similar to this before in visual media. Many Darkling villains had almost comically large sets of horns as if they were to display just how evil the Darklings were. While my horns weren’t so large as to drag my head down, these horns were horrible. I looked like I was going to eat someone's child and steal their money to spend on something evil. I stared at my reflection for a solid few moments before screaming. “What the Fuck!!”

Stumbling, I fell backward through the doorway to hit the floor while I gripped one of the new growths and pulled on it. Desperately, I yanked on that horn like they both were parasites draining my very soul. I refused to accept those things as part of who I was. I did not want to be a villain in the eyes of everyone I passed on the street. If the world hated me even more, I didn’t know what I would do. I couldn’t be treated even worse because of these things.

I screamed like a madman as I wrenched and yanked on the growth. The next thing I knew, a pair of hands were pinning my sole arm to the ground, restraining me. When I started kicking, my legs were pinned by much larger hands. Brutally, I screamed like someone being tortured. I thrashed and writhed as if I had just had a molten metal rod pressed against my skin.

The next thing I knew, there was a pair of hands on my cheeks, and an alien calming energy was being driven into my consciousness like a railroad spike. I struggled for a few more seconds even as I heard a familiar woman’s voice whispering to me, “Hush. Hush. It’s alright. Everything is okay. You’re okay.”

As my struggles died, I opened my eyes to find Master Navor pressing her brow against my horns, just above my own brow. When I looked up, I found Zynna holding my hand. When I looked down, I found Demierra pinning my legs.

“Horns.” was all I managed to get out before I broke down into body-wracking sobs, just like the night before.

“I know. I know.” Navor murmured to me as she raised her face from mine. “We don’t know why it happened. But I didn’t want to scare you anymore. I was hoping to talk with you about it when you were in a better place.”

“Better?!” I snapped. “I lost an arm and a foot, and now my horns have octupled in size! What in the nine hells happened to me!?” I demanded.

I heard Ferris’s voice from the doorway to my room. “I saw it happen.” He sounded scared. “They just…grew. Popped out of your head so fast the skin split when you went into that rage. I don’t know what happened.”

“What?” I asked, but even I could hear the begging in my voice.

“Like I said, we don’t know.” Navor answered. “Something’s not right with your body.”

“What?!” I asked again, panic seeping into my tone.

“Calm down, kid. Let’s get your medication in your system before we talk about this.” Navor said as she helped me to my feet… well… to my foot. I gratefully accepted the help back to my bed. With nervous hands, I pulled my safe box of medication from just beneath my bed. As I pushed open the box and prepped my dose, I was fighting back a panic about what Navor had just said. She had said that something was wrong with my body. I knew that she wasn't talking about my recent subtractions, so what was this additional error in my base-code?

I pushed those thoughts from my head and focused on getting myself back to a stable state. I had gone for five straight days without medication, and I knew that I was a bit looney. Was that why I had lost my mind the day before and just then? If I had been dosed, would I have just cursed about the mistakes and moved on? No. I had killed people and lost literal parts of myself in that fight. That would’ve messed up anyone… Right? I honestly could not be sure what the correct reactions to the events of the previous days. So I just had to focus on getting back to a stable brain.

I sat down on my bed with a gentle ease of pressure, then double-checked my readied dose, primed the hypo-jector needle, and injected myself in the side of my neck, just above what remained of my right shoulder. A rush of burning heat accompanied the injection, but I contributed it to the then-present state of my body.

Navor crossed her arms and gave a single nod of her head in approval before she began to explain. “We had some serious issues using Life Myst on your body to keep stable enoug-” Navor didn’t get to finish. By the time she had said three words, the fire at my injection site morphed into a literal sensation of having injected acid into my veins. By the time she had said the words “Life Myst” my head was spinning, and my heartbeat was irregular. That would’ve been the point where I would’ve notified Navor that something was very wrong, but I had collapsed from my bed to the floor, where I thrashed, clawing at my neck with my remaining hand as I wordlessly started screaming like something was eating its way out of my body. 

I doubt that I need to tell you that my awareness of what was going on both within and outside my body was a mystery, so I will explain this scene from a different camera angle, if you will.

Iver thrashed on the floor with his remaining limbs and screamed like a beast being murdered. The area around the injection site on his neck was a horrifying green and purple-black, the puncture mark weeping puss.

“Damn it!” Terra Navor cursed. Ferris, pin his legs! Zynna, control his hand!” She pointed to both of the students before pointing to their position to restrain their idiot teammate. “Demierra, sit on his chest, but don’t crush him.”

The three students flew into action, pinning Iver to the floor while Terra moved to examine the injection site. During idiot Iver’s thrashing, the injection site had ruptured, burst open into an inch-wide, ragged hole gushing puss.

“Ferris, do you know what magical components are in his meds?”

“I-uh..”

“Out with it, boy.”

Ferris took a look at Iver’s condition before explaining what he could. “Don’t know the details on the herbs or chemicals. But there is a heavy dose of Life Myst and Resonance Myst.”

“Fuck my goose with a mallet. This is going to get ugly.” Terra said more to herself than anyone in the room.

“I’m sorry for this kid,” Terra apologized to the Darkling on the floor. “But this is going to get much, much worse before it gets better.” she then turned to Demierra. “Get your belt between his teeth before he bites off his tongue.” While the Dracose ripped her belt from her paints without a second thought, the Master pressed her hands to either side of the pestilent wound. Threads of black, purple, vermillion, and magenta energy rose from her hands to wave in the air.

The instant that Demierra shoved her belt into Iver’s mouth, Terra directed the threads of myst into a complex weaving before they dove into the festering wound where they did brutal but critical work.

Iver’s back arched, bowing in a primal drive to escape the pain. That was within expectations. What wasn’t within those expectations was when Iver’s strength lifted Dermierra’s weight off the floor from sheer strength.

“Demeirra, sedate him!” Terra commanded as she struggled to focus on saving the idiot’s life. The Dracose gave a sharp-toothed grin, saying “Gladly.” before punching Iver once in the head hard enough to bounce his skull off the floor more than onces. But that swift strike was enough to put out the lights of the thrashing Darkling.

As Terra worked, the puss running from Iver’s wound shifted form milky yellow to a much thinner clear liquid. That liquid was pushed from the wound at a steady rate, as if being pumped from his body. Black threads crept outward from the edges of the wound. But strangely, the wound started to contract and narrow based on the amount of Umbra Myst she injected into her spell. It was as if the wound was automatically attempting to heal, but failing. That was not a function of what her on-the-fly spell crafting had designed.

On a hunch, Terra added threads of violet Death Myst to her spell. That normally lethal element seemed to be the key element that allowed Iver to quickly stabilize. In short order after that, Iver was set back into his bed, where he would be babysat- I mean monitored, until he awoke.

Stepping back into my perspective, I was waking up from what I could only call poisoning of an order of magnitude above anything Thallos had done to me. That experience with my new condition was only the start of my very complicated relationship with myst elements.

When I came back to consciousness, I found myself feeling physically sick, having moderate chest pains in time with my heartbeat, and feeling distinctly violated. I also found myself covered in a mysterious dry crust of something yellow that stank.

I found Navor sitting at my work desk. Of all things, the Master was playing a desk sport with the spare nuts and bolts on my table from when Kharmor threw together my joint-caps. She had set up field goals across the table using pairs of bolts and was flicking nuts of various sizes through the goals.

I gave a polite cough to notify my master and was gratified with the sight of her quickly sweeping an arm across the table to knock over her goals and scramble her field before turning to me like nothing had happened.

“I, um… What happened? Was I poisoned?” I asked.

Navor stood only to take a seat on the edge of my bed before she explained. “In a manner of speaking, yeah.”

I grit my teeth at the thought of Ozwald breaking into my medication chest and intentionally tainting what I needed to function correctly. “I’m going to kill him.” I growled.

“You’re not killing anyone, kid. Noone tried to kill you with your own meds. It was a rough wakeup call to something new you’re going to have to either deal with more make peace with.”

“Something I’ll need to deal with?”

Navor locked eyes with me. “Iver. Life Myst doesnt work on you. The magic almost killed you, twice now, because of some unheard-of reaction.”

“Like cancer?!” I truly started to panic.

“No, no. You don’t have cancer. Have you ever had an adverse reaction to Life Myst before?” Navor asked.

“What? No. What does that have to do with my horns? Oh, Gods! Are my horns cancer?!”

“Iver! Shut up, you twit and listen.” Navor snapped at me. “Ferris told me that your horns changed in the middle of the fight and that something strange happened with your skin. When Demierra got you here, I tried to heal you. But your body treated the Life Myst like it was poison. It happened again when you dosed with your medication, but it was… worse.”

“Worse? Wait. I have an allergy or something to Life Myst? and Worse how?” My mind was racing. 

In response, Navor pulled up a hollow mirror screen displaying my face and neck. “Check your neck.” was all Navor said. When I turned and exposed my neck, I found a new scar at the crux between my neck and maimed shoulder, but not like any other scar I had collected before.

It was a perfectly circular piece of raised scar tissue, but the skin around the scar displayed what at first glance appeared to be a black tattoo. A black ring of black vein-like tendrils around pale scarring that looked something like a black sun and pale moon in some deranged form of an eclipse.

“When you were brought in after the fight,” Navor started. “I threw out a simple healing spell to seal the bleeding joints. That caused the tissue in those spots to rapidly rot. When you dosed, it seems that the Life Myst started acting as a rapid-necrotizing poison following the veins on the shortest route to your heart. Once was a strange occurrence, but twice is a pattern.”

“Then how am I not dead?”

“Well… I’m not entirely sure. When your limbs were the problem, Ferris tried to stop the necrosis with Death Myst of all things. He said something about a controlled burn to stop a blaze. His logic was wrong in any other situation, and by all accounts, he should’ve killed you. But the Death Myst patched your stumps, like what I had intended with the healing spell. That was strange enough, but gave me enough of a hint to save you when the dosing went wrong.”

“So you used Death Myst to… heal me from the poison?”

Navor gave an indignant snort. “If only it had been that simple. Ferris’s flook was enough of a hint that negative elements didn’t have nearly as disastrous an effect on you as others. But I had to assume that the Resonance Myst in your med was also a problem, and that’s not including who-knows-what magic herbs that could’ve been causing trouble. I had to pull the poison out root and stem. You’re damn saint lucky that I specialize in negative elements because that operation was… trouble.

“Trouble?” I asked.

“Damn skippy, kid. First I had to use Umbra Myst to weaken the impact of the substance on your body, which already shouldn’t be an option for this kind of operation. I had to forcefully infuse the poison with Morphic Myst to override its material base to convert it into a saline solution so it wouldn’t be toxic. I also had to forcefully reverse your blood flow using Distortion Myst to push the former poison before it changed back into its natural state. That heartbeat Distortion crap  was a total gamble, because that could’ve killed you as much as the poison. Oh, and lets not forget that I also had to track down all traces of Life Myst and Resonance Myst in your body near the injection site and kill it using precision Ruin Myst. After all that I managed to seal your wound with Death Myst somehow. I do gotta say that forcing Death Myst through a Life Myst Spell Frame was a serious pain.”

My head was spinning with that explanation. Any one of those elements she had used could have easily spelled my death. Limbs chopped off, new horns, then a Life Myst allergy that almost got me killed with my own medication only to be saved by five of six Negative Elements, each of which should’ve killed me.

My head was spinning again but for a whole other reason than poisoning this time. My life had gone through so many drastic changes in the past three years, and what felt like three dozen new developments just landed over the course of what felt like only a day or two.

“What in Pandemonium happened to me?” I muttered, trying to cling to my calm. “What is happening to me?!”

“Kid, listen to what I’m saying.” Navor began sternly. “You need to find a specialist. Probably a few specialists. This must’ve been caused by magic. So you’re going to want to find a Mystgenist. One that specializes in Darklings or Negative Myst types. Preferably both.”

“Where in the nine hells am I supposed to find someone like that? Especially in the state I’m in?”

Navor stood up. “I’ll do some digging. You need to focus on getting back to fighting shape.”

It was at that point the door to my room, that had been open crack pushed just a bit wider open to reveal Kharmor and Ferris standing just on the other side. 

“Actually…” Kharmor spoke up as he stepped into the room alongside Ferris. “Iver, you remember that book I gave you?”

“A new Age of Change? I, uh, Yeah.” Those words sounded confused, even to my own ears. “I-I was reading it all night. Why?”

“Have you gotten to his section on splicing?”

“No. Again, why?” I asked, clearly confused at what my Half-Dwarf friend was getting at.

“Well, in that section, Lind reveals that he is not only an accomplished CyDoc and Mallorick but also a Mystgenist. He’s done centuries of study into the concept and applications of genetic splicing and discussed the ethics. He goes over the ideas and theory behind changing someone’s body to display physical changes, like growing scales on a Human or giving one breed of Elf traits from another breed. That was a big reason why I gave you the book after you told me about that genetic puzzle you’ve got going on.”

A voice spoke up from behind my two friends. “Move it, rot brains, before I ject you out the room.” Khar and Ferris turned back before stepping into the room to let Zynna through.

“I was just coming to take my baby-sitting shift , but what’s this I hear about a genetic puzzle?” Zynna asked.

With a grunt of effort, I pulled myself  to the edge of my bed as I explained. “I show traits from all breeds of Darkling. And I never knew my bio parents, so I neither know why I am this way nor what I should be. But while those answers would be great, first, what is this guck all over me? You said that you had to eject the poison from me so that means this is…”

“Yep.” Zynna said with a mix of disgust an amusement. “Puss. Lots and lots of dried puss.”

I gave a look of revolution and horror at the news. “You just put me in my bed, covered in puss. You didn’t even bother to hose me down like a cheap car?”

“Well… No.” Ferris said in embarrassment.

“Hey, I’ve done my quota of spunge bathing this lunatic.” Kharmor said in defense as he raise his hands in a ‘hands off’ gesture.

“So your telling me, that your going to leave this fifty-percent of a man to clean his sheets freshly after almost dying not once but at least two or three times?”

Zynna scoffed, folded her arms, and clicked her tongue as she took a defiant stance. “More like fifty percent of what might be called a boy. You don’t have enough body or hair to be a man. And if you think I’m playing nanny and doing your laundry, you’re diluted.”

“Fine.” I groused. “I’ll deal with that problem later. But first, what this Lind guy have to do with my current situation?”

As Kharmor continued his explination, he became more animated, clearly feeling like he had an idea that would work. “I was just getting there. A fair chunk of that section discusses the ethics of splicing and mutating an infant before it is born. Which I think might pertain to you. But it also talks about how you can alter someone’s myst affinities to change a Mage from one class to another. He reviews the side effects of altering their Affinity Ratio. That’s the big thing I think will help with this predicament. Some of the side effects that are fairly common in people who have had this procedure done suffer from both physical and personality changes. Between his astounding understanding of genetics and how myst can permanently alter the body, I think you should talk with him about this. You were already planning on seeing him about cybernetics because he lives in the city, right?”

“I, uh, yeah.” I answered, stunned by how I could get answers to dozens of questions I had about myself from someone I was quickly growing to idolize.

“That settles it.” Navor stated. She pointed to me. “When you are fit enough in mind and body, I want you to go see this Lind person. I will also flip the bill for some basic cybernetics for you. I just need the costs.” She pointed to Kharmor. “I want you to help him to get to this CyDoc-Mystgenist person.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He answered.

“Screw it.” I said as I tried to stand. “I need answers.” I turned to Kharmor. “Is the prosthetic foot you mentioned ready?”

“Yeah. Want me to install it right now?”

“After a quick shower, but yes.” I resolutely confirmed.

“And Iver.” Navor started to regain my attention. “No more of that medication. Got it?”

I-I…Yeah.” I reluctantly answered.

“I’m sorry, what?” Navor said in passive threat.

“I mean, yes ma’am.” I hurried to correct.

I’ll skip over the mounting process of attaching the false limb. But after about an hour's worth of fitting and adjusting, I was as ready to walk the streets as I could be. After I had a moderately functional foot, I looked up where I would find this Lind guy’s shop. After I found the destination, I called Teefa to pick us up. While I waited for our ride, I read Lind’s book. The book was a momentary crutch for me, knowing that I could never use my medication again. I really did not want to think about what that meant for my future. So I escaped into A New Age of Change.

 During the ride, I continued to read and only barely gave poor Teefa the most basic interaction I could spare. I was dimly aware that the Ceangar order agent gave me her condolences about my missing limbs and her failure to get us to safety. She rambled on for a solid several minutes about the events and her role in them. But Kharmor, who rode with me, politely explained that I was studying the concepts of advanced cybernetics I wanted installed after that trip. After that, Teefa kept quiet, which I was immensely grateful for. I’m sure anyone who has tried to read a book while on public transport can relate to my situation.

I will not lie. What that book held within its pages held me so tight that I might as well have been the very ink on those pages. Molecular cybernetic muscle fibers bound together as a single entity. Rapid synaptic echo response, allowing for the limbs to act as naturally as an actual organic limb. Those were only two of the concepts that I read over the course of that trip that I was hooked on like a starving fish at the end of a reel. I dug so deep into that book that I might as well have been a fevered mole burrowing so deep into the earth that I found the molten core of Anogwin.

Lind’s shop wasn’t far from my home base, only eight blocks from the house. I hobbled from the AV without even looking up from my book, Kharmor guiding me along the way as my nose remained buried in the book so deep I could smell the ink like a drug.

I was vaguely aware of Kharmor helping me through a door into some kind of shop. My Dwarven friend let go of my arm as a smooth male voice spoke up.

“Can I help you, young men?”

Kharmor spoke on my behalf. “My friend here wants to speak with the shop owner about getting some new limbs.”

I silently gave a nod of agreement as I turned the page to start on a section about the limitations of the mortal mind regarding cybernetics because of the synaptic response rate. I had only gotten two paragraphs in when I heard the same smooth male voice speak. “Ah. I see I have a fan of my work. How are you liking my theories?”

My head snapped up to find the speaker after I registered what he had just said. What I found was a true shock. An Elf unlike anything I had ever even heard of. The Elven man who stood behind the service counter was what I would call an obvious High Elf. His ears were impressively long, reaching six and a half inches from lobe to tip. That meant he could only have been a pure-blood High Elf. His long hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail and was so white that even High Elf nobles would have to step down to grant him the highest position. That hair was so white it almost seemed to glow even in the dim light of the shop. But unlike any Elf I had ever known, this man’s skin was the deepest, darkest black. His pristine skin wasn’t the black of anyone I had ever seen. This wasn’t the dark brown bordering on black that could be found in any species with bare skin. This black was so deep I would have thought that this man was cut and shaped from the night sky and stripped of every star. I quickly found those missing stars when he smiled at me in amusement.

I’ll skip over the mounting process of attaching the false limb. But after about an hour's worth of fitting and adjusting, I was as ready to walk the streets as I could be. After I had a moderately functional foot, I looked up where I would find this Lind guy’s shop. After I found the destination, I called Teefa to pick us up. While I waited for our ride, I read Lind’s book. The book was a momentary crutch for me, knowing that I could never use my medication again. I really did not want to think about what that meant for my future. So I escaped into A New Age of Change.

 During the ride, I continued to read and only barely gave poor Teefa the most basic interaction I could spare. I was dimly aware that the Ceangar order agent gave me her condolences about my missing limbs and her failure to get us to safety. She rambled on for a solid several minutes about the events and her role in them. But Kharmor, who rode with me, politely explained that I was studying the concepts of advanced cybernetics I wanted installed after that trip. After that, Teefa kept quiet, which I was immensely grateful for. I’m sure anyone who has tried to read a book while on public transport can relate to my situation.

I will not lie. What that book held within its pages held me so tight that I might as well have been the very ink on those pages. Molecular cybernetic muscle fibers bound together as a single entity. Rapid synaptic echo response, allowing for the limbs to act as naturally as an actual organic limb. Those were only two of the concepts that I read over the course of that trip that I was hooked on like a starving fish at the end of a reel. I dug so deep into that book that I might as well have been a fevered mole burrowing so deep into the earth that I found the molten core of Anogwin.

Lind’s shop wasn’t far from my home base, only eight blocks from the house. I hobbled from the AV without even looking up from my book, Kharmor guiding me along the way as my nose remained buried in the book so deep I could smell the ink like a drug.

I was vaguely aware of Kharmor helping me through a door into some kind of shop. My Dwarven friend let go of my arm as a smooth male voice spoke up.

“Can I help you, young men?”

Kharmor spoke on my behalf. “My friend here wants to speak with the shop owner about getting some new limbs.”

I silently gave a nod of agreement as I turned the page to start on a section about the limitations of the mortal mind regarding cybernetics because of the synaptic response rate. I had only gotten two paragraphs in when I heard the same smooth male voice speak. “Ah. I see I have a fan of my work. How are you liking my theories?”

My head snapped up to find the speaker after I registered what he had just said. What I found was a true shock. An Elf unlike anything I had ever even heard of. The Elven man who stood behind the service counter was what I would call an obvious High Elf. His ears were impressively long, reaching six and a half inches from lobe to tip. That meant he could only have been a pure-blood High Elf. His long hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail and was so white that even High Elf nobles would have to step down to grant him the highest position. That hair was so white it almost seemed to glow even in the dim light of the shop. But unlike any Elf I had ever known, this man’s skin was the deepest, darkest black. His pristine skin wasn’t the black of anyone I had ever seen. This wasn’t the dark brown bordering on black that could be found in any species with bare skin. This black was so deep I would have thought that this man was cut and shaped from the night sky and stripped of every star. I quickly found those missing stars when he smiled at me in amusement.