Solo [The Pit] Rebirth

[Celeste Arumen]

17th Day of Winter, 513 AV

So what was she, then?

Celeste massaged the tops of her shins. They ached fiercely – in fact, every part of her did. She’d been in there forever it seemed. Ever since she’d discovered how to work with the Pit rather than against it, she no longer had a reason to leave. Sure, she grew tired, hungry and occasionally restless, but those moments were so few and far between that she scarcely noticed them at all. Fatigue was her only real demon. If she were to nod off, she’d wake up all topsy turvy, which in the end, took hours to repair.

The question remained. She really, truly couldn’t remember anymore. Sure, she knew she was human, like Brom and Tierra. She understood it like she understood the sky was blue. You could tell just by looking. But all the other facts of her biology had been pulled under with the tide. She’d spent a whole hour and a half just trying to figure out how tall she was. It had annoyed her so deeply that after a while, she gave up and just picked a height. After all, what did it really matter how tall she once had been? Or what the exact color of her skin was? Those things were trivial. They didn’t really matter at all.

What mattered was what she could be. So perhaps it was a futile question to begin with. The Pit gave her an enterprising little nudge and she agreed; time to change again. Gently moving alongside the force, she guided it toward the web of her nails, wielding it as one would wield a scalpel. The apprentice began single-mindedly etching details – warping the thick, clear strands of carbon toward the inflexible structure of opaque and deepest black, her nails taking on a brilliant luster. Slowly, carefully, she worked to replicate the night sky. It was good practice, to try new morphs. The results were shiny black nails marbled with white. Not at all what she’d hoped. The tiny pinhole lights weren’t there. In fact, the marbling looked more like the walls of the Palsa Hydrasa than the sky. With a sigh, she loosed her grip on the hand of the Pit, allowing it to retreat from whence it came.

The trouble with morphing seemed to lie in the abstract. It was hard to morph things a certain way, because she just didn’t know how. It was impossibly frustrating. In fact, she’d almost done serious damage to herself a few times. If it weren’t for the aid of the Pit and the extreme pain to follow, she would have bled to death on the inside. Or at least, that was what Tierra had said. ’Don’t get creative.’ She’d chastised. ’You shouldn’t be trying anything down there.’

Of course, one thing wouldn’t change. Celeste was as stubborn as a mule. She would still try things, just more carefully this time.

She turned her nails this way and that way in the light. They gleamed rather prettily, at least. If anyone asked, she’d say it was intentional. That was the mark of a great artist, after all.

Which led her to thoughts of her Wizard Examination. To think she’d undergone so much trauma as an apprentice… Well she sincerely hoped that it wouldn’t follow her as she ascended in rank. She brought it on herself, anyway. Riyanna was right. Of course, the Warden was always right. She grumbled. For as mature as she was in some ways, Celeste was still a child. And children hated to admit when they were wrong.

But this was assuming she’d even make it to her exams - and that she’d be good enough to pass them. Of course, it’d be difficult to deny her. The facts were self-evident. Were she to survive the Heartlands, she’d be extraordinary. This was also considering how powerful she’d grown and how fast she’d learned in a single season. But she wasn’t out of the woods yet. In fact, she was leery to attribute much thought to the future in the first place.

Were she being totally honest, Celeste didn’t feel special. She was really just a tool. In fact, the closer she got to becoming a Wizard, the scarier her life became. When she was little, she thought of Wizards as special. But now she saw the truth of the Island and by extension, all the people on it. Special? Sure. Evil, twisted, enamored by power, detached from the joys of life? That too. Both seemed to be a package deal when it came to Sahova.

Now Goron Silverheart? He was special. She smiled quietly, coyly almost. She’d never indulged in much hero worship before. But he was powerful, merciful and more importantly, alive. He hadn't sacrificed his identity to the maggot heads. That man played the game and came out on top. She desperately wanted to know how. How did he do it? If only she could talk to him, one day, and find out…

[Celeste Arumen]

”Celeste!” Tierra called. ”Brom caught you a nice juicy fish!” The girl looked up to see her fellow initiate dangling a silvery perch in the air. She grinned. ”How did he manage that?” She asked with incredulity, eyes wide. Her stomach growled fiercely. ”He went fishing, that’s how.” The Eypharian seemed pleased to see her alive and well. ”Get up here if you want some. You have to clean it yourself, so hurry up.”

Oh, how they knew her. For all her will to stay down there, she was just as easily manipulated by food. The child sprang up with her brand new legs and just as quickly fell back to the ground. Laughing, she dusted herself off. ”Hold on. I think I got my legs wrong. Can I see yours?”

Tierra laughed in kind, shaking her head. ”You’re impossible. I can’t believe you haven’t gone mad. How is it that magic doesn’t affect you that way?” Of course, she couldn’t have possibly known how those words would hurt her. Celeste felt a tightening in her chest. ”I don’t know,” she replied quietly, thinking of her Mother. ”It used to, but I guess I just got past it.” The other initiate seemed not to notice her change in demeanor. ”Got past it?” She replied.

”Yeah. I used to overgive all the time. Once, I had to stay in bed for a whole month because I’d made my neck too long and my bones couldn’t support it. I was so young, I didn’t know any better.” Tierra laughed raucously and the laughing helped buoy her spirits. ”That's silly. You’re still young, you know. You act like you’re an old woman.”

”Well I feel like one! I’m sore all over!” She exclaimed. ”Now how do you make your legs work? I think I made mine too long and stretched my muscles too thin.” Tierra cast a weather eye over her dust-covered body.

”Hmm,” she mused. ”Looks like you forgot to thicken up your calves and thighs. You looks like a potato with two sticks at the bottom.” Celeste blew a raspberry. ”Didn’t I tell you not to get creative?”

”I didn’t listen,” she replied airily. The sound of Illia’s laughter echoed from yards away. It was funny, but for being Winter, it was altogether lovely outside. The oppressive, heavy air lightened to make way for the sun. Of course, in the Pit it wasn’t actually that cold.

She felt it poke at her, as if to say it was ready. ”Alright then,” she replied, looking toward the wall. Tierra made a face, but said nothing about it. Perhaps she found it peculiar that the girl was talking to the place.

Celeste used the surging force to first access her thighs, the cords of muscle stretched thin. Seizing them, she stretched outward, flesh visibly plumping and thickening as she went. ”Not too much,” Tierra called down to her. ”You’re going to want to fill them out, but nothing more.” Of course, she knew that. Celeste hadn’t been paying attention, which was why they’d been stretched out in the first place. Human models were nothing new to her. As soon as they looked satisfactory, she moved further south, repeating the process with her calves.

The Pit retreated. She blew it a kiss.

”You’re ridiculous,” the Eypharian said. ”I’ve never met anyone like you in my life.”

”Thanks!” She replied cheerfully, having already forgotten the earlier slight. It felt strange, being taller. The girl rose and began hoisting herself up the rope ladder, hand over foot.

As she reached the top, she found Illia and Brom sitting together. He kept looking up, eyeing the creature warily as she watched him skin a fish. Her eyes were as wide as plates. ”So that’s why you’ve been so quiet,” she called out to the familiar. The creature turned and then beamed… Well as much as an Avavali really could, anyway. ”Celie!” She cried, striding over. ”I missed you!”

”We have a telepathic connection, you goon.” But she laughed in spite of herself. Everything felt better. It was strangely easier to breathe, now that she’d uncovered the secret.

▼

”So have you given much thought to your examination?” Brom asked with a mouthful of fish. Celeste nodded, still chewing. As she swallowed, she replied. ”Sort of. I have an idea of what I want to do, but I don’t know how I want to do it.” Tierra waved, as if to continue. The girl took another bite of fish. ”See, I want to use morphing for infiltration. Use it to deceive people.” She didn’t really want to include the part about using that infiltration to kill.

”To what end?” Brom asked keenly. ”What’s the point of sneaking around if you aren’t doing it for a reason?” Celeste wiggled her toes. ”Well, I don’t know yet. To spy on people. Or maybe to retrieve artifacts and relics of power. Maybe to trick people into doing things for the Island.” She paused for a moment. ”Maybe to kill bad people.” She looked up hopefully. The reaction she got was mixed.

Tierra looked at her with apprehension. ”It’s no good if you’re going to put your life in danger,” she replied at once. Brom however, seemed to have other concerns. ”How would you know if they were bad?” He asked. Now there was a good question. It was one she’d been asking herself. ”Well, I’d watch them to see if they were. I’d follow them for a little while to see what they did, to memorize their routine.”

”And what if they weren’t bad?” He pressed. ”What if you had to kill them anyway?”

She frowned. ”I don’t know, Brom. Maybe I could help them disappear. I could make it look like they were dead.”

Brom and Tierra both had something to say about this. In fact, they both started talking over one another. ”I don’t think –“ Tierra began, but Brom cut her off. ”If they catch you,” he said forcefully, ”they’ll kill you. And all this will be a waste. Don’t you understand?” He spread his hands. ”Brom,” Tierra spat, angered by his lack of consideration. ”I was trying to say something.”

”No, don’t you understand?” Both initiates froze. She look at them both with quiet indignation. ”I am here to stop them. Do you think I want to be a Wizard for the petch of it?”

They merely gaped in silence. Illia too, stopped singing.

”What is the point of power, if you aren't going to use it for something? If I wanted an easy life, I wouldn't have gone to Amaryllis in the first place. These deadies, they make you think it is impossible to fight against them. But it’s a trick. If you can play their game and win, you can put a stop to it. But you have to change the rules. You have to make them think they’re the ones winning.”

”So what?” Brom replied angrily. ”You think you’ll be the one? You think you’re so special?” Tierra looked at him with a mixture of shock and fury. ”No,” Celeste spat in reply. ”I think I’m brave. Unlike you, I don’t quit something before I start it. And if I die because I wasn’t good enough, my life never really meant anything to begin with.”

She stood. ”Celeste –“ Tierra began.

”I’m not hungry anymore.”

And with that, the girl rose and walked back to the Pit.

[Celeste Arumen]

Throughout the rest of the day, she finished work on her model of self. If she could be whatever she wanted, then all she wished was to be the best representation of Celeste she knew how. Each time the aura of the Pit came forth, she seized it as her brush, her tool and began to carve. She sought a streamlined nose, full lips and a chiseled heart-shaped face. It took time for each – she wouldn’t always get the morph on the first try. So she would do it again and again, shaving off each tiny imperfection, until the little girl looked so flawless as to be made out of stone.

The djed weave, the radiant, interconnected highway of data shifted and with it, so did she. This was an act of rebirth. Hadn’t she died and come back, anyway? Celeste shaved off the uncertainty and the doubt. She reshaped herself in the image of not a girl but a mage, a symbol of power and self-possession.

Deep within, she was still a child. But even so, she had purpose. Were she to survive this trip to the Heartlands, she would be ready. Lhex had sent her on this path with Ionu by her side. With them, she would be a force for change, a catalyst of revelation and through the powers both earned and granted to her, she would subvert the Citadel and leave something hopefully better in its place.

It was then that she resolved to be, wherever she went, an agent of the individual. Illusions weren’t meaningless parlor tricks. They all were representative of something greater. They were simply put, the literal power of ideas.

Ideas brought the powerful to their knees as easily as they brought hope to the hopeless. Whatever one needed, the illusion could bring. Thanks to this, Alvadas thrived. Each person had the ability to live as they pleased, bolstered by their own, personal illusions, heartened by the idea that they could. In a city where anything was possible, the same could be said about its inhabitants.

But the Citadel was dead, lifeless. It rejected the exchange of ideas. It turned away from the concept of free will. Once in the grasp of the island, a person was no longer a person. They were a puppet, determined as an asset or liability and nothing more. And as evidenced by Annalisa Marin, dead or alive, it didn’t really matter anymore.

If she could, she would see it all upside down.

Bells passed. Using the Pit as her guide, she continued southward, chiseling her gently sloping shoulders. She tweaked the djed, flattening it on top and weaving the delicate strands in on themselves, over and over again. Celeste lengthened her torso, shaped out her breasts, lengthened her arms and legs so she looked older but not by much. She did her best to add definition to her already toned musculature, filling in the gaps left by emaciation and a season with barely anything to eat. Even her feet and hands were made long and graceful, rewoven and smoothed again and again.

This was the process. Find the shape and knit. The aura would nudge her and she’d seize it, following her own natural shape. She found it to be a relatively simple process. After all, she was only enhancing what she supposed was already there. In reality, she didn’t know just how akin to her old self she really appeared. She only had the vaguest of ideas.

When all was said and done, she was perfect, as perfect as she could get. The sun was blazing tangerine over the horizon.

’What else?’ She wondered. There was no need to change her name. Celeste Arumen was akin to a magonym already. But didn’t great wizards have trademarks? Riyanna bore her quicksilver tears. Shouldn’t she assume something too, something great?

A tingling feeling in her scalp. She’d been so caught up in her thoughts that she’d scarcely recognized it. After spending so much time there, she could barely distinguish the Pit as a separate entity. A single streak of electric blue lit her hair as the Pit ran phantom fingers over top.

That was it!

Celeste smiled at the encroaching darkness.

[Celeste Arumen]

Legs folded and eyes closed, she focused on the sound of her own breathing. Each time the Pit came along, she shifted her hair, her eyes, memorizing different sequences of coloration. The strands of djed would curl or be left straight, the intersecting lines of code acute or obtuse, zagging this way and that as she deftly moved them accordingly. It itched at first, the sense of her hair growing and shrinking, curling and straightening all the time, but she’d come to ignore it. Teal, purple and pink seemed to be her favorites, though in her darker contemplation she favored reds and blacks.

The sense of her eyes changing tingled a bit, but she ignored that too, even when it got to the point that she wanted to peel her own skin off. Her whole body ached from morphing without rest. But this was the way to get better. This was as Riyanna would have done.

She memorized the djed structure of bone. Since she couldn’t morph into anything inorganic, bone would be her greatest ally. Celeste would at times, grow a bone plate on the back of her hand, practicing adding mass at the same time and then shrink it into nothing, over and over again. It felt like swelling at first and was akin to a bad bruise after it was gone, but on the whole it wasn't so bad. It certainly wasn't as irritating as morphing her hair.

The night wore on. She knew Tierra and Brom were close by. She could sense them watching through Illia’s eyes. The familiar kept in contact too, though it was more intent to study her than anything. It wanted to learn how to morph, in the same way a child wished to emulate their Mother. She didn’t have enough mastery to actually explain things in silence and meditate at the same time, so she tried to focus on the transfer of ideas, imagining her own portrayal of djed and how each strand interacted with the other.

Whether or not the familiar understood any of it… Well that was another matter entirely. They were just pictures after all. For all she knew, the Avavali was clueless as blind man in a round room. Which sounded about right.

Dawn was fast approaching. She could see the beginnings of it streak about the sky.

”Celeste,” Brom called.

”Mmm?” She replied, still in the midst of concentration.

”I just wanted to say… Look, I’m sorry okay?” He sounded slightly wounded, as if mad he had to apologize at all.

”I know I’m not special, Brom.” She replied quietly. He inhaled sharply, ready to protest, when she stopped him. ”You don’t have to apologize. But I was raised in special circumstances. I learned magic early enough to use it in a way other people can’t. I’m going to try my best to make a difference... Okay?”

There was a silence. When he replied, his voice was ragged. ”If anyone can do it,” he croaked. ”It’s you, Celeste.”

She paused for a moment. ”Thanks.” She replied softly, tears welling up to run quietly down her cheeks.

”I’m gonna try.”

[Mirage]

Celeste

 

Skills Improved

• Familiary - 2
• Morphing - 3
• Observation - 3

 

Lores Gained

• Morphing: Forgetting Oneself
• Morphing: New Celeste Model
• Morphing: Playing with Hair
• Morphing: Finding your Signature
• Morphing: Don't forget to fill out the hips!
• Wizard Exams: Morphing for Infiltration?
• Brom: Not good with emotions

 

Character Notes

Great job! This was a really fun read lol. I like Celeste's new body, and her new signature! Will it always be electric blue? If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, please feel free to PM me!