PG-13 for gruesome scene at the end.
Within the city of Niva, form manipulation, an occult art founded by the philosopher Truneaus based on Plato’s theory of forms, rose to dominance. Unlike other arts, form manipulation has no restrictions. In magic: energy, gestures, symbols etc… are needed and in Alchemy you can only transmute matter from matter with certain properties however, in form manipulation the only restrictions are the depth of a minds perception and the time it takes someone to memorize and invoke a form, meaning that anyone can use any form and so the “Cretean Code” was made. This code is drilled into the heads of all manipulators, especially those in the Academy and for a while it’s strictly followed, but after three centuries all that’s about to change. Ironically, this change starts, not with some rogues, but with students in the Academy, unbeknownst to their masters.
“Fool!” shrieked Antinus. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done!?”
“Yes, I’ve become my own man. I refuse to abide by your worthless rules!”
“Icarus, don’t make me hurt you.”
“Don’t worry, you won’t!” and with this Icarus, realizing that his master wouldn’t give him enough time to use that form, extended his mind toward his master, invoking the form of fear.
“Idiot!” Antinus exclaimed as he easily freed his mind. Feeling the form of weakness and his student’s perception of the form, he manipulated Icarus’s perception so that his mind would feel weakness. Icarus’ legs shook, his mind numbed, and his head dropped. He felt insignificant; his eyes became dull, as he gazed emptily at the marble floor while falling toward it.
“Icarus?” Olenus called as he walked into the dormitory, no response. The room looked as if it had been empty for awhile. Where could he be at this time of night? He rushed out into the bright marble streets, moon light reflecting into his eyes. A chill ran down his spine, a form had been invoked. In the city of Niva this wasn’t unusual since masters, students, and rogues trained daily. However Olenus recognized the mind manipulating this form. That fool must have told Antinus. When the full implications of Icarus’ actions hit him he started to sprint toward his friend. He’s going to die.
Antinus tore of a piece of his cloak and extending his mind, morphed it into a sword, tears rolled down his eyes as he turned to Icarus. As he approached Icarus he fell, body heavy, sword clanging to the ground. He didn‘t need to turn to see who it was.
“Olenus, it must be done.”
“No, it mustn’t.”
“You’re interfering with his punishment.” It was all Antinus needed to say, Niva was known not only for its strength, but its discipline. Everyone knew what happened to criminals.
“That sucks.” Olenus reached his mind out to Icarus, hoping to recognize the manipulated form, but no form had been invoked or changed in Icarus’s mind. Seeing the puzzled look on Olenus’s face Antinus smiled, but the smile disappeared when he saw the confusion leave Olenus’s face. He always was brilliant. Olenus dragged Icarus’s perception of weakness away from the form, immediately Icarus, though shaken, stood.
“Thanks” Icarus muttered, suddenly he grabbed the sword and leapt at the helpless figure of Antinus. Clang, steel met steel as Olenus blocked the fatal blow.
“Traitor!” Icarus shrieked as he swung madly at Olenus. Olenus parried, stepping to the side allowing Icarus to pass; he brought the hilt of his sword crashing towards the back of Icarus’s skull but hit air as Icarus rolled away. Icarus came up, sword in hand, and lunged at Olenus, the ringing of steel echoed through the alley. Olenus didn’t want to kill Icarus, but Icarus had no such sentiments. Olenus parried blow after devastating blow; his arms vibrating with shock. When the next strike arched towards his neck, he didn’t merely block, he allowed Icarus’s sword to slide along his, then stepped in under Icarus’s guard, slamming the flat of his sword into Icarus’s gut, sending him sprawling onto the ground, gasping for air. That split second was all Olenus needed, Icarus’s sword morphed to cloth.
Icarus threw the cloth down and ran.
“We have to go after him.” Antinus shot his student a quizzical
look.
“Icarus and I aren’t the only ones in the Academy tired of the code…”
“You broke them too!?” Antinus shrieked incredulously. “What’s in your reservoir (memory) now?” he asked resignedly.
“Master,” Olenus replied coolly. “That’s honestly none of your business.”
But considering what Icarus is about to memorize, we might need it. He shivered at the thought, recalling how close just adding the form to his reservoir had brought him to…
“Anyway,” Olenus continued. “We’ve been discussing the rules and most of us think that they’re pointless, however some people recognize a few of them and herein lays the problem. A schism occurred, and two groups were formed, one recognizing some of the rules and following them, Thena, and the other refusing to abide by any restriction, Daedal. Within Daedal, a small group of people wanted to force others to do things their way, but the majority of Daedal wouldn’t allow it. We thought that was the end of it, but the fact that Icarus ran indicates otherwise.”
“How?” asked Antinus.
“Well he was-is-the leader of those who were-are-pushing for violence.”
Olenus replied. “Meaning he can’t be killed or captured.”
“Olenus, which side are you on?” Antinus calmly asked his student, anticipating the answer, but hoping he was wrong, that he wouldn’t need to execute Olenus as well, yet no matter how much he tried to look for a way around it there was a simple fact he couldn’t deny, if Olenus was going to do something he wouldn’t do it half-bait.
“Come on!” Olenus exclaimed as he ran out of the alley. It had finally dawned on him that if Icarus’s group still existed then…
Young Lance was slumbering peacefully as Irene, Trine, and Carl stood over him.
“Guys are you sure we should use him?” asked Carl, looking toward his companions anxiously, both nodded. The logic was simple, Lance was the weakest manipulator in the Academy, but the anxiety was caused by the fact that he was her brother. Tentatively, Irene invoked the form of silence while Trine invoked the form of weakness. Carl cautiously picked Lance up. They edged their way out of the room, closing the door softly. Relief flooded through them.
“What do you think you’re doing?” asked a steel hard voice; there stood Lia eyes ablaze with fury, her very presence causing their blood to run cold.
“Carl, run!” Irene whispered. Carl, needing no more prompting, invoked the form of speed, and ran like Hades was at his heels. Lia pursued, but stopped as Irene and Trine blocked her way. They thought they could hold Lia off, they assumed they would have time to use their forms, they were wrong. Half a second later, Lia invoked the form of fear. Irene and Trine stood petrified. Lia, not missing a beat, slammed them into the wall, from which chains sprang binding them. In her haste, Lia didn’t see Irene stir, which gave her enough time to invoke the form of time, but Lia had invoked the form of speed which kept her somewhat unaffected but also unable to take the time to finish the job. Irene, on the other hand, was in slow motion, body and mind. She couldn’t escape, at least not quickly enough. The code was meant not only to stop people from becoming too powerful, but, to prevent them from hurting themselves. The forbidden forms could effect the user as well as the target/s.
Carl stumbled into the room, gasping for air as he dropped Lance onto the bed.
“What happened?” Icarus asked, as he walked over to Lance.
“Lia,” Carl replied. Carl looked up at Icarus, the sight unnerved him. He’s smiling!?
“Lia,” Icarus spat, his voice oozing with contempt, “is nothing. After this I will tower over God himself!” Icarus turned to Lance, “Carl, make sure I’m not disturbed.” Carl nodded and left the room. He’s insane.
Olenus and Antinus were close to the Academy but Olenus suddenly turned into an alleyway, Antinus in tow.
Olenus realized that after this was over his master would execute him for breaking the code, and that was something he wouldn’t allow. He turned to Antinus, invoking the form of unconsciousness, projecting it upon Antinus, who managed to partially shield his mind leaving him shaky, but potent. Antinus couldn’t extend his mind, so he tore off a piece of his cloak, morphing it into an axe, as he bore down on Olenus. Olenus shuffled back, cleanly dodging a shot at his legs, as he ripped out a piece of his cloth morphing it into a sword. Antinus then did something genuinely stupid, perhaps because he was only partially conscious. He could’ve run but instead, knowing that Olenus had to kill him and that he was a fifty-five year old man who could now only use material forms, meaning that he would have to fight physically, stood and fought against a twenty-five year old boy. Antinus bore down on Olenus, leading with the butt of his axe; Olenus ducked the blow and, anticipating his Master perfectly, drove his sword down, knocking the axe blade aside. Hoping against hope, he ducked under Antinus’s guard driving the flat of his sword toward Antinus’s gut, hitting air as Antinus twirled out of the way and plunged his axe toward Olenus’s neck, grazing him as he leapt to the side coming up with his sword at the ready. Olenus grimaced as he felt the blood trickling down the side of his neck; it was a slight wound, but a wound none the less. Grimly, Olenus rushed Antinus, blood pumping, eyes glazed red, as he swung his sword in a broad arc, Antinus ducked the blow with ease as Olenus lost his balance, seeing the opening Antinus lunged at Olenus, who whirled around him, sword leading. Antinus felt an explosion in his chest, looking down he saw the sword protruding from his chest, its gleam somehow enhanced by the dripping blood. A ruse Antinus smiled at his own stupidity, eyes glazing over as he fell to the ground. Despite his haste, Olenus showed his master respect by praying before he hid the body and took off.
Icarus reached his mind out to Lance, anticipation building, he was close to being able to manipulate it.
Lia turned into the next hall, slowing as she came face to face with Carl.
The sound of footsteps reached her ears, distracting her. Carl flung the form of immobility at her, then charged, arm morphing into a club; Lia was, at best, unconcerned as she caught the form redirecting it at him. Carl fell to the floor, immobile. Olenus turned into the hall.
“Lia!” She turned to him, eyes glinting dangerously, most people would have frozen, but Olenus, knowing that he was on par with her, was unperturbed. “We have to be careful, he’s …” A piercing scream emanated from the room interrupting Olenus. Icarus was in pure agony, what he felt was repulsive-disgusting-ghastly-sickening-words could not describe it. His body fell uselessly to the floor as his mind wallowed in pain. Nothing this wrong should exist!
“Die!” he shrieked, as he plunged the dagger into Lances throat, Lance convulsed then laid still. He turned to the door as Lia burst in, Olenus in tow. Icarus, eyes wide with craze and blood dripping from his face, extended his mind grasping their essences and bringing them to their knees. Despite his righteous fury, he couldn’t subdue them and, slowly, they loosened his grip. Lia was half a second away from taking Icarus’s head off, but, unfortunately, Olenus was quicker and his rage had overcome his reason. Extending his mind, he invoked…the form of death. This was a minor miscalculation on his part. Olenus understood that forms were systematically interconnected causes and that they were pure, transcendent, ultimately real archetypes. He also understood that before you could manipulate a form you had to memorize it so that you could project an imperfect copy of it which could be used in the material world and/or fused with other forms. What he didn’t understand was that some forms were sentient. Unfortunately for him death was one of them. Usually when death struck it contained itself and concentrated on its target, but, death is temperamental and it doesn’t like people screwing around with it. A mortal was exercising its power, a power that no mortal had a right to dream of let alone use. Basically, death was pissed.
Pockets of flame exploded throughout Niva, the lucky ones were incinerated, feeling only a second of agonizing pain. Screams rang through Niva as flames consumed the city. A ten year old boy stood, wide eyed, as he watched his mother’s flesh peel, her mouth open in a soundless scream. The acrid stench of burnt flesh filled his nose; his tears evaporated, burning his eyes. A woman, giving birth watched in horror as the delicate child oozed out, bubbling skin dropping to the floor as it squeaked in pain. Her back melted into the bed, pain complementing grief. The walls were melting and only two guards could move, they jumped, believing they would drop to cool water, instead one was caught by a burst of flame which incinerated his lower leg and another which created a hole in his gut boiling his blood, he died before he hit the moat. The other wasn’t so lucky, he too was caught by flames, but unlike the first he lost his manliness and was still alive when he hit the scalding hot water, his eyes boiled, water rushed to his head destroying his nerves, he was too disoriented to swim upward, he could no longer hold his breath, he opened his mouth and water rushed into his throat. The flames coalesced into a ball, engulfing Niva, bringing a merciful end to most that were still alive, and illuminating the sky red.
Yet one scream rang out. Flames had erupted from beneath him, incinerating Lia and Icarus, but death wouldn’t release Olenus so easily. Olenus’ insides melted, the acrid stench of burnt flesh rushed into his lungs, suffocating him. Olenus felt pain that dwarfed that of child birth, his skull was exposed as his skin melted into his eyes, his blood boiled, and every nerve in his body shrieked. His entrails spilled onto the floor, deforming into slime. His blood evaporated. His heart burst and his brain oozed onto the floor, yet death still wouldn’t release him. Death deformed Olenus’ very essence. The ball of flame collapsed upon Olenus evaporating his flesh, nerves, organs, everything, but still death wouldn’t release him. Unfortunately, death hadn’t unleashed the brunt of its rage; there was still the small matter of Olenus’s essence, which, unfortunately for him, was still intact. Prometheus himself would’ve pitied Olenus.
