Solo The First Trial

[Celeste Arumen]

37th Day of Summer, 513 AV Celeste sat in her tiny broom cupboard of a room, sorting through her small stack of parchment. The Judgement was forthcoming and in just three short days, she’d either begin work as an apprentice or be leaving in shame. She knew they’d be looking for a distinct competency in her craft, an ability to control and restructure her djed according to the standards set by the city and it’s practitioners. She knew this because she’d read about it, back when her house was corporeal and stocked with a small library. That and through her brief visit at port, the Memorial Library providing vague hints here and there about the enigmatic island of the dead. Nothing was expressly stated; after all, very few “pulsers” as they were termed, ever made it back from the city alive. And that was just how Celeste liked it. What else could her life have to offer, directionless as it’d become? She’d been a student of morphing since the tender age of five and in that short time, had progressed considerably. Living on her own for the past three years had raped her of the innocence commonly seen in most thirteen-year old girls; but, what she lacked in emotional maturity, she compensated with wisdom and experience gained from years on the street. Her Grandmother would be proud to know she’d made it this far. Now it was all a matter of skill – or being sold into slavery. She smiled giddily, eager to begin a rough outline of how she would approach the test. ’Judgement –' she began to write. ’a test of life and death.’ That was fitting, she thought smugly. Her handwriting was relatively poor, a side effect of little practice with the art. ’Partial morph, full-morph.’ She began to chew at the quill’s feathered tip. Yes, she’d do one and then the other. First human – it’d be fun to do the street harlot perhaps, or maybe the philterer’s assistant. She’d accumulated more than one disguise over the years. Start with certain parts of the form and then the whole package. But then, perhaps she’d do the animal. Yes, so human, then to unmorph, to animal and then… She frowned. Would she be able to do more than that? Those reserves of blessed djed, that which defined her very soul, had expanded gradually with years of practice… But not so much that she could manage six transformations so close to one another. Overgiving in front of the judges would be incredibly embarrassing and as she guessed, most likely an instant failure. But would four be enough? She supposed they’d have to see. Whatever she did, it would have to be impressive.

[Celeste Arumen]

40th Day of Spring, 513 AV The hem of her skirt nearly dragged across the floor as she walked. Arcane robes were not typically made for little girls, but she’d managed to pass off being incredibly petite. Her hair fell loose and golden, largely influenced by the summer sun. Two tinkling earrings dangled from both lobes, a good-luck token for the testing to come. She’d done a bit of practice in the days leading up, using the common labs to perfect her forms. The aide of a mirror had been invaluable, a luxury she’d not had for quite some time. She let herself in to the lecture hall. There were already plenty of spectators, eager to watch those who succeeded and failed. She suddenly felt self-conscious, not used to the recognition of her true identity. All who spied her knew she was a living, breathing human girl and if she were to fail, her life would easily be forfeit. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, just as it had running through the streets of Alvadas, the Womiyu hot on her heels. Celeste had known danger all her life. It was both thrilling and terrifying, all at once. Heart in her throat, she waited for permission to proceed. Morphing in front of an audience meant she’d have to be naked, truly exposed. In truth, it was the hardest thing she’d ever have to do. Celeste was used to being overlooked, ignored. This would put her directly under scrutiny. She’d never been formally trained, never been educated or tried. This would be her very first test, ever. Her tiny body began to tremble. Tasting bile at the back of her throat, she strode forward. ”Celeste Arumen,” she said, voicing her true surname. Could she even do this? Steeling herself, one hand reached to undo her robes and with a rustle of fabric, they fell to the ground. Some of the judges snickered. How often did a little girl have the gall to do such a thing? ”It is my wish to research and explore the discipline of Morphing, aligned with the gift of Illusionism.” This was a well-rehearsed phrase and one that came out more meekly than she’d hoped. That got their attention a bit; god-magic was an asset, something unexpected. The purple triangle seethed with energy for a moment as her eyes turned a flash of vermillion, before the illusion dispersed. ”This demonstration will be without the aid of such m-“ she stumbled ”markings.” Gods, they could tell she was nervous. Her whole body was lightly trembling. ’Here goes nothing,’ she thought, squeezing her eyes shut, retreating to the quiet space of her mind. For her first act was a simple one. Focusing on what a boy should be, she began to restructure her djed as she’d done many times before. The queer sensation of stretching was familiar, a comfort in lieu of her great task. Over the next chime or so her chest expanded, more of a barrel than an hourglass. The shape of her breasts receded and grew flat and her hips splayed inward, the center of gravity rising to the middle of her abdomen. The bones of her arms and legs grew slightly longer, thicker, more formidable. At the finale, her hair shot up and curled, her mouth a thin line rather than a double bow, and even her skin grew callous and slightly piebald, a commoner’s flesh. This was a model she’d learned over time and it took less to maintain, through the draw on her reserves was evident. She felt the djed slowly leeching out of her, hand in hand with the anxiety tearing at her heart. For effect, she added in her roughest accent: ”Please sirs, might you spare a miza? I’ve not eaten in a full week.” Slowly, she took it further, fat slowly ebbing away into nothing. The structure of her base skeleton was now evident through the shifted skin. But it was becoming too much – the strain of holding her emotions in check was burning her out too quickly. There had to be other tricks, other things. Hit by sudden inspiration, she chose her next course of action. Celeste kept a hold on the current form while slowly turning her hair a sickly shade of orange. In Nari she repeated the phrase, sinking to her knees. Just a lowly Dek, a casteless slave. How fitting. But the tears in her eyes were real, not an act, no longer a game. The small adjustments had set her off-balance. Determined not to appear foolish she very gradually loosened her grip on the form, allowing her body to right itself. Tears threatened to fall in earnest – she failed, she couldn’t move on to the next step. She wanted to throw herself down right there and beg for her life, for surely they’d enslave her. Such a small demonstration of power would not sate the appetites of the Sahovan Judges, not deter the Nuit who so openly craved her as a vessel. No, she wouldn’t do that. Celeste had thus far avoided the indignity of begging. She’d not lower herself to that, even as they robbed her of her very soul. Once back in her original state, she simply held herself upright. ’You can do just a little more,’ the voices said. ’Just push a little farther; it couldn’t hurt to do maybe a partial morph, just to demonstrate the other side?’ She blinked. The audience stared. Was it her mind that egged her on, or something else? ’Grandma told me about this, the whispers! If I do it, then I’ll give in to them.’ The desire for power was there, fueling it. She’d been warned about this. She couldn’t afford to slip into madness, naked, in the middle of Sahova. She couldn’t afford to overgive. She couldn’t afford not to do exactly as she’d been taught, lest all of it meant nothing. But maybe, just a set of claws wouldn’t hurt. She checked the dwindling vestiges of her power. Celeste had a choice to make. ”Thank you for your consideration.” She pulled on her robes, drying her eyes. This was a test of control and of willpower more than ability for her. If this was failure, she would accept it with grace. In the vaults of her undeveloped mind, she still knew she couldn’t let her grandmother down. She wouldn’t do that. So instead she bowed, took a step back to let the hammer fall – one way or the other.

[Mirage]

The panel of judges consisted of five nuits, eyes cold and searching, that stared with complete disintrest at the girl before them. From the left there was a thin Symenestra, features flattened and body in obvious decay. The next body in line was that of a human male, and he appeared to have died at a younger age, perhaps mid thirties. The next two were both Human as well, one male and one female, and the final judge had taken the body of an Isur woman. Her right arm was missing, but besides the stitching over the missing limb her body was still in good shape.

The first male human steepled his fingers, raising an eyebrow at the girl, "Is this it? This is all you have prepared for us?"

The murmuring in the crowed seemed to agree with the judge, sounds of jibes and mean spirited laughs echoing from the back. Some softly spoken words would reach the girls hears, sounds of "Stupid pulsers" and "The bitch never should have come. She is useless to Sahova."

The other judges looked to one another, sharing some unspoken conversation as the man spoke again, "Your skills are mediocre at best. There are apprentices here who have studied your art for decades, and they still have not moved up to claim the rank of Wizard. If they have had such time to train and had so little advancement, then you would surely never succeed here. Your magic is weak, or knowledge too little, and your body too fragile for Sahova." At this the man looked Celeste up and down, not in hunger or lust, but as if he were appraising cattle, and he seemed to find her bare body lacking.

With a lazy hand the man waved her away, signifying the trials were over, and that she had failed. Jibes and laughter rained down from the crowd, jeers and snide remarks for her to return to her home with the living where she belonged. It was a parade of hate and condescending words.

"I will take her." A feminine voice cut through the crowd, silencing them and all turned to look toward the speaker. A woman stood up from where she sat in the back corner. Her hair was long and a brilliant shade of blue. Her eyes were almond shaped, colored to match her hair while lines of silver traced from the corners of her eyes to fall down her cheeks like tears. She wore a simple tunic and trousers, and when she pushed her way past the lined up nuits into the isle Celeste would see that she wore no shoes. Instead her feet were small and very feminine, nails slightly lengthened and each was a different shade of purple. She was clearly living, full of life that contradicted all that Sahova was, and when she smiled brilliant white teeth shown out, though they resembled shark teeth more than human teeth.

"You would take this one as your apprentice Riyana?" The Isur woman raised an eyebrow, "And you accept full responsibility for her fate here?"

Without hesitation Riyana replied, not taking her eyes off of Celeste as she did, "I do. That is, if she is willing?" The woman looked down at Celeste, posing the question to her.

[Celeste Arumen]

There it was. All the effort, all the preparation – even the long journey. Wasted. Tears stung her eyes once more, moved to fall from the jeers of the crowd. They were right; how was she, a dirty orphan girl, fit to become a Wizard of Sahova? It all seemed so laughable now, just a distant pipe dream. But she did not sniffle or sob. The tears ran freely with pride as she stood tall, prepared for whatever happened next. Until she spoke. Celeste nearly fell as she spun to face the strange speaker. She was so utterly beautiful, azure hair and eyes contrasted with tear-stained cheeks, as if she wept pure quicksilver in times of woe. Was she human? She’d never seen such a being before, but intuition hinted at overgiving, her djed been stretched too thin. It was the price of their craft. ”Yes, my lady.” She fell into a deep bow, markedly submissive. Whatever this woman asked of her, she would do it. They called her Riyana, a name she undoubtedly would never forget. ”I am willing and at your service.” Triumph began to seep through her veins, washing away the cold terror. She’d made the right choice, after all.

[Mirage]

The crowd erupted in murmurs at this new development, and not all of them were pleasant. "Let the pulsers stay together", "yeah put her with the Warden. She won't last a fortnight." More chuckles and laughter followed, which Riyana completely ignored.

The woman's smile broadened, and she placed a hand on Celeste's shoulder, leaning close to whisper in her ear, "Thats it girl, stay strong. Don't let the deadies get to ya." She straightened and looked at the Isur-Nuit woman, "She has agreed as well. So I, Riyana Sterder, Wizard of Sahova and Warden of the Prairie, take Celeste Arumen as my apprentice." She looked down at Celeste and then back at the nuit, "As well as my new Initiate."

The Symenestra-nuit laughed, an awful, gurgling cough, "SHE is to be your new Initiate? You do live up to your reputation Pulser. Your arrogance knows now bounds" He coughed, spitting out a was of clotted blood and phlem, "We accept this decision. Take your new meat sack and go. We will be looking for her body in the Palsa Hydrasa soon." He laughed, and many of the nuits in the room followed suit. The Isur, however, did not look the least bit amused. She eyed Celeste with a measured gaze, seeming to be in thought.

Riyana's arm fell around Celeste's shoulders, and she almost dragged her up the isle, deftly ignoring the voices of the crowd. With a swift kick the large doors to the lecture hall swung opon with a bang, and as they left the hall she turned and smiled a toothy smile to the Judges, "Do stop by the Testing Grounds when you get the chance. We are always honored to have nuits visit us. Oh, that is if those rotting carcasses can make the journey without losing too many limbs." Then with a coy wave, arm still around Celeste, Riyana continued on down the hall, heading toward the ramp leading up the levels of the Gug Andjak.

As they walked Riyana did not let silence fall, and she talked in a cheery tone, "Dusty old bag of bones. You can't let the deadies get to you girl. They are all bitter and jealous of what we have. Life. THAT is the real treasure here on Sahova." She kept her arm around the girl's shoulder as they walked, her smile never fading, somehow kind despite the rows of pointed teeth, "Tell me cutie, what is a pretty girl like you doing in a gutter shyke place like this? Just doesn't seem to suit you." Riyana seemed genuinely interested, kind and bubbly, which given Sahova's environment was completely out of character for the Island. But then Riyana was certainly not an ordinary woman.

[Celeste Arumen]

So many implications lurked in the conversation to follow and the contact from her new mentor nearly made her jump. Warden of the Prairie? What on Mizahar did that mean? Celeste had learned precious little about the city thus far, save for the areas she’d been permitted to use. Riyana’s whisper was reassuring and thus, she stood a little taller, even going so far as to smile. It wouldn’t behoove her to make enemies just yet, but she felt like blowing a raspberry. She was blessedly safe… For the time being. But what on earth was an initiate? Celeste was somewhat proficient in reading people and she could tell Riyana was genuine. The other Nuit seemed amused, as if this were a spectacle of pure comedy. But there was one – the Isur woman – who was not laughing. In fact, she seemed contemplative, as if some exchange between the two had just occurred. Celeste hid her interest, eyes trailing off to the side. There would be no point in telegraphing her insight. Riyana had shark teeth, which endlessly fascinated her. ”Me? Gods, what about you? You’re a real master, aren’t you?” She asked breathlessly, amazed. The woman had a real sense of humor, too. Celeste giggled. ”You’re great! I turned up because I’ve always dreamed of being a Wizard. I’ve been morphing since I was five, so I’ve had a lot of time to think about it.” Her thoughts came out in a tumble, uncensored as they were wont to be. ”Did you overgive? Is that why you’re so pretty?” As they walked, the questions flowed freely. ”Also, what’s the Prairie? Is it a wild place on the island? And what’s an initiate? How is that different from an apprentice?” She stared unabashedly. ”I used to be a con-artist, but I thought I’d pursue my dreams instead. I’ve never seen so much magic before in my life.” And from her tone, it was clear that this was a good thing. ”Am I going to die here?” This was a neutral question and asked without fear. It seemed Celeste had a sensitive ego, but an unrelenting curiosity. The idea of death was not to be feared. Failure was her true enemy. ”Oh, and where are we going?”

[Mirage]

Riyana laughed and raised a hand to slow the stream of questions, "Slow down girl! There is plenty of time to answer all your questions. Now lets see if I can sort through this."

Her head bobbed as she sorted through the questions in her mind, counting on her fingers as she did. Finally she raised one finger and smiled at Celeste, "First off I am no master by rank. I'm just a lowly first tier Wizard. Made a few mistakes early on, pissed off a few maggot brains and ever since I have been stuck at the bottom of the rung." She laughed and raised another finger, "Two, overgiving has a lot to do with a lot about me, but never heard of it making me pretty." Another finger raised, "The Prairie is a section of the Testing Grounds that I oversee, however, we will go over all of that later." She winked.

The exited on the 15th floor, and Riyana lead them through the common lab toward one of the personal labs. The door was simple wood, with a black of bronze that said "Lab 15-M". Stopping before the door Riyana looked down at Celeste and raised her last two fingers, "Probably, and we are here!"

Pushing open the door Riyana lead the way into the lab, letting go of Celeste's shoulders for the first time since they left the lecture hall. Stepping across the threshold would reveal... just a simple room, completely empty save for a couple pallets and a desk pushed against the far wall. There were no books, or shelves. No magical circles, and almost no furniture at all. There was one large chest against the wall to the right, but other than that it was completely barren. Riyana walked to the middle of the room and spun in a circle, arms out as if she were displaying the room to her, "Welcome to my Lab! What do you think?"

[Celeste Arumen]

Celeste nodded along. Impatience gnawed at the back of her mind, but she put it to rest. There was no sense pestering her new savior, after all. ”By rank sure, but that’s not what I meant.” She meant by skill, which was a different matter entirely. Making enemies seemed easy to do on the Island of the ‘maggot-brains’ as Riyana so eloquently put. ”Well, I think it’s pretty,” she murmured, still enamored by the woman’s unnerving façade. She was from the City of Illusions, after all. Conventional beauty made her yawn. As for dying, Riyana very simply replied: Probably. Which was good enough for Celeste. She’d suspected as much, at any rate. Even if it meant becoming a Nuit, it was still dying. Even if it meant she working her whole life there, she’d still inevitably die. It was such a natural process, why bother wasting the energy to fear it? Dira would have her say, in one sense or another. When they finally arrived, she turned and looked about. The whole room was empty, save for a desk and a chest. She blinked. ”This is a lab?” She tried to puzzle it over. ”Ah, for Morphing right? You wouldn’t need all that shyke other Wizards need.” And there was her potty mouth. Living on the street did that to a kid. ”Glad to be here! It’s pretty neat.” She strolled over to the desk and hopped atop it, legs dangling off the side. ”So what do we do now?” Celeste was all too eager. ”I take it everyone hates me, now. I’m not used to so many people knowing who I am, but it’s hard to blend in around here when your heart’s still beating. I’m used to the hate, though. After all, no one likes it when they realized they’ve been had.” Those people just didn’t know who exactly to hate. She grinned. ”So, what’s your story? How did you end up here?”

[Mirage]

Closing the door Riyana walked to the chest, opening it and rummaging through it, "Well as a Wizard I am entitled to a Lab, and since I cannot stand the little broom closets they have for lodging I decided to use this room here as a proper living area for myself and my Initiates." Clothes began to fly from the chest as she tossed out article after article of clothes of various sizes and designs, "And now we undress so that we can go out." Riyana straightened and tossed a simple cotton cloak to Celeste. It would be too big for her, but then not many girls her age came to Sahova.

Stripping off her tunic Riyana made quick work of her clothing, slipping out of it perhaps a bit faster than someone should when in front of another. The Warden did not seem the least bit shy however, and for good reason. She stood at just under 5'8, and her body was toned like that of an athlete. What little fat she had was collected to form the soft curve of her breast, which faded to a thin waist and fine slope of her hips. Long legs with toned calf muscles showed a body well used to physical activity, and the perfectly even tan said quite clearly that she did not mind walking about as she was in broad daylight. Her skin was not perfect however. Light scars traced over her shoulders and around her legs. One particular scar traced from beneath her left breasts up to her sternum. It was jagged and much darker than the rest, and looked as if she had been stabbed by a sword. Other scars told the stories of her life. It had been a difficult one, fought with combat, struggles for life and death, and obviously not all of them were from Sahova. As she turned Celeste would see an interesting tattoo on her back. It was a large broad sword colored in black ink. Its handled started at the base of her neck, and the tip of the blade ended right at her hip line.

"I wouldn't worry too much about what the deadies think of you. They hate everyone, even each other." Turning back around Riyana sat on the desk next to Celeste, not seeming to care about the close proximity despite her nudity, "As for my story, you will need to buy me a few more drinks for that sweetie." Riyana winked. Almost as if in response to her sudden thoughts, the woman's hair changed from blue to a very hot pink, the colors cascading down her hair from her scalp, "Now hurry up and undress. You wont be needing those clothes where we are going."

[Celeste Arumen]

She brightened. What an interesting idea. Perhaps if she were to become a Wizard one day, she too would do the same. Riyana tossed her a cotton cloak, to which she smiled. Whatever they were doing, they weren’t going to waste time getting to it. And just like that, the clothes began to fly. She undid her robe once more, letting it crumple to her waist. Celeste froze however, admiring the lacework of scar tissue that adorned Riyana’s body. It seemed like she’d nearly been gutted at one point, run through at another. The questions continued to percolate, but this time she said nothing, slowly stripping from her expensive robes. The most fascinating piece to it all was her tattoo, a proverbial Sword of Damocles running from the top of her vertebrae to the start of her hip. This woman had one long story to tell, that much was certain. The two of them would get along just fine; after all, she was completely unphased by casual nudity. Celeste had never learned to be ashamed. Robe half undone she laughed sincerely, flashing rows of shining teeth. The shift in hair color interested her – was it that simple, the better you got? Could Celeste one day be just like her, djed so worn that it was malleable as clay? What a concept. She always thought it’d be different, that she’d always retain the appearance she bore right now. The idea was overrated, she concurred, this alternative suddenly far more attractive than what she’d thought before. At the command, Celeste hopped down and tossed her garment to the side, yanking the other around her shoulders in a single motion. ”Ready,” she announced, tawny eyes alight. She could only assume they were going to the Prairie – wherever that was.