Quest [Inner Sanctum] The Initiation

[Plume]

Spring 85, 515AV

Ser Connor Moore frowned slightly as he led his squire into the dusty confines of the Inner Sanctum. It never failed to bother him how forlorn this place looked, though he made sure to smile encouragingly at Katelyn as the entered the old labratory.

Most of the supplies and furniture had been stripped, leaving the space with an isolated, neglected air to it. The Mage-Knight knew it had been empty since the Summer of 510AV, when its original owner, resident Magecrafter Akvin Kultra, had vanished mysteriously. Coincidence and rumors suggested he had left with Glav Navik to Wind Reach, but Moore had stopped paying any mind to these whispers long ago.

The cupboards were still in tact, as were a few aged looking tables and chairs, but there wasn't much else left within the spartan Sanctum. True, it wasn't the most ideal of places to perform an initiation. He would have preferred somewhere more...comfortable and inviting for his squire, given the grave nature of their task today. But there were certain benefits of choosing this space in particular. The first being that he had managed to reserve it for private use, ensuring they would not be disturbed in the middle of the initiation. The second, that Ser Connor knew Devandil Nightshade had installed several failsafes to ensure the protection of those who utilized the former labratory, including glyphs, magecrafted windows, and wall-hangings that soundproofed the room. It was a functional and useful space to perform the initiation in, if not the most cozy.

Fortunately, Mage-Knight and squire had come prepared. Both were armed with bundles of vibrant pillows and blankets of their own choosing. Ser Connor had even brought a few candles and sundries to brighten the atmosphere. No doubt it seemed frivolous at first, taking all of these somewhat indulgent items along. But he had explained to his squire that the initiation could sometimes be traumatic, and therefore anything and everything they could do to ensure themselves a comfortable state of being when it took place was by default absolutely necessary.

Once they were both inside of the Sanctum, Ser Connor chose the least dismal looking corner and motioned for his squire to follow. He set some of their supplies onto a near by table and drew out a large, thin roll of fabric. Dragging over a chair, the patron began tying one end of the fabric to a hook in the wall to create a makeshift curtain. He focused on his task and moved from hook to hook, trusting his squire and pupil to arrange the rest of the pillows and blankets to her liking.

"You'd think, just by looking at us," the Mage-Knight joked with Katelyn at some point, "that we were training in domestic decor instead of initiating you into a powerful and formidable magic."

Once they were done with their basic preparations, he slipped behind the folds of the curtain to seat himself in the center of their initiation space. With calm, steady motions, Ser Connor placed the candles on either side and lit them one by one the good old fashioned way. The tiny flickers of yellow flames gave their curtained area a warm, amber atmosphere.

The Mage-Knight waited until his squire was seated before him and ready to proceed to the next step.

[Katelyn Marks]

Katelyn was terrified as her patron led her deeper into the belly of the castle. She had no idea what to expect really. Ser Moore had told her it was different for everyone, but often traumatizing. Goose pimples rose along her arms as the apprehension mounted, and she clutched the blankets and pillows she was holder close to her chest. When they arrived and he opened the door for her, the hair on the back of her neck rose as she stepped into the dreary room. It was a fitting environment. The drab walls and discouraging shadows went well with the knot of fear in the pit her stomach.

The squire was glad her patron was creative enough to bring things along that would spruce up the area. She hoped it would make a difference in how she was feeling. As he started to hang the curtain that would block out the depressing room and close them in, she went about arranging the blankets and pillows. When the old floor was covered by comfortable blankets, the curtain walled off the room, and their pillows were piled into a puffy fortress, Katelyn was glad to have it all. She instantly felt better, and even managed a courageous smile at the Mage-Knight.

"Part of me is starting to wish that was really it," she tried to jest back, sounding a little forced. "I imagine it's a lot easier than transmuting the elements."

When the candles were lit and their warm light illuminated their private little bubble, it filled her with a sense of finality. As her patron moved into his place, she slid down to her knees across from him, sitting tense and straight.

"Do you think it will go well? Will I be alright?" she asked after a timid pause.

Ser Moore had explained the process to her. She knew what was supposed to happen, but it was impossible to be sure if everything would go smoothly--like having Res invade your body could be simple or pleasant. Katelyn knew that the part that scared her the most would be the ritual wounds. The redhead didn't like the idea of watching someone cut her open, and having to just sit there like a good girl. It was a gruesome and slightly grotesque thought. When she'd asked him if there was another way, she'd been disappointed to hear that there wasn't.

[Plume]

A part of Ser Connor's heart went out to his frightened squire. He knew as well as anyone how daunting such an experience could be, fully aware that once his charge took her final step in this initiation, there was no going back.

But she was ready. He knew it, even if Katelyn herself harbored any doubts.

The Knight smiled warmly in answer to his squire's nervous questions. "I don't think, I know. You are a strong lass, you and I both know, and you are ready for this. Don't see it as something dangerous or intimidating. It is a gift of the most sacred nature. And it is also a tool to be used at your disposal."

Raising one of his arms, Ser Connor turned his palm upward and extended it to his pupil. "Here, place your hand in mine. Remember these words that I tell you: Res is as much of a living thing as you are. It just purer and simpler in form, and it is yours to learn to understand and control. It is a part of us, and therefore requires the same amount of caution as you would exercise when exerting your own body and mind. It is not something you need to fear, and it is not something that will actively seek to hurt you, because it is you."

"We do have one advantage," he went on explaining, "and that is we have had time to know each other as teacher and pupil. I have come to understand you as a person, Katelyn, and I hope that you can say the same for me as well. Our perceptions of each other are just as important to this ritual as our perceptions of ourselves. Since it is my Res that will be gifted to you, it is important I have your trust as well."

Ser Connor patted Katelyn's hand and brought it to rest on a small pillow. "You know by now that not everyone is as willing to accept our magic for what it is. Some fear it in their ignorance and grief. It is something you must be prepared for. You must not only acknowledge the consequences of stepping into this realm of Reimancy, but embrace it wholeheartedly. Accept it entirely for who you are and what it is. And you need not worry about what comes after, because if you allow it to become a part of you, then it will be your most natural and effective teacher. Whatever you feel, however strange it seems at first, you must not deny it. That is the only rule you need to remember once we begin."

He placed a small, sheathed knife in between them and centered both Katelyn's palm and the pillow it rested on beside it.

"When you are ready, Squire Marks, and only then."

[Katelyn Marks]

Her patron's comforting confidence helped smooth the tense wrinkles between her brows, and she took a slow breath to try and calm her nerves. Katelyn deliberately relaxed the muscles in her shoulders and down her back. Breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth. It was impossible to be completely unafraid, but she trusted her patron. Ser Moore wouldn't lead her astray, and until now he'd taken every precaution for safety. She had no reason to believe this would be any different.

When he offered his hand, she automatically placed hers in his grasp. The knight's dark complexion contrasted drastically with her pale, freckled fingers. His skin was warm and reassuring, and she found herself smiling.

"I trust you," she answered easily, sounding more sure of herself now.

Katelyn thought back to when he had first offered to bring her to Syliras and learn magic. She'd been terrified, which was the common reaction. After getting to know him though, and keeping an open mind, she came to understand and accept everything he'd taught her. By now, she couldn't imagine how things would be if she'd said no and stayed with Ser Whitevine. So many questions would have gone unanswered. Like he said, there was a lot of fear surrounding the arcane, and this ritual she was about to undertake would change things.

This was different than Shielding or Auristics. Her patron wasn't simply about to just teach to manipulate her Djed. He was going to unlock a piece of her--or rather, rip into a part of her. But like he said, this was just going to be another tool to have at her disposal. Learning it required extreme means, but she realized as he procured the ritual knife and a cold shiver ran through her, that she wanted to go through with this. As Katelyn examined the sheathed blade, she went over his words again. Soaking them up, understanding their meaning. Finally, she released the breath she'd been holding and nodded.

"I'm ready."

[Plume]

He could see that Katelyn was afraid, but determined. And she had every reason to be on both accounts. The Mage Knight had never offered any illusions to his pupil; the ritual would be painful, alien, invasive. They had made things as comfortable as possible, prepared both mentally and physically with a good night's rest, and treated the entire initiation as nothing more than another step toward the squire's magical education. But it was a daunting experience nonetheless, one that promised no small amount of discomfort, and Ser Connor had sugarcoated nothing.

It would hurt. It would test her, bring her right up to the edges of her self discipline and will. And in the end it would be worth it.

The Knight nodded, then unsheathed the knife with slow, careful movements. He had made sure to sharpen it himself, out of sight of his squire, so as not to draw her mind toward the inevitable any more than it already had. But the initiation was finally to begin. There was no other way around it.

Using just the tip of the blade, Ser Connor began to lightly cut across Katelyn's palm. The knife was sharp enough that it would cause her to feel nothing more than slight sting and the lines themselves to be needle thin. He used the same marks his own teacher had bestowed upon him, though he made some changes here and there to accommodate his pupil's hand. Most of the alterations were done out of inspiration within the moment, once he got a feel for how the lines would look overall, and took the pre-existing creases across her skin into consideration as well.

Once he finished the first set of now crimson marks on one hand, he beckoned for Katelyn to extend the other. Ser Connor made a similar design and drew the blade across her pale skin, movements calm and steady, ensuring the wounds were shallow and easy to heal without scarring.

"There, we're a third of the way through already," he exhaled and smiled encouragingly. "Here, place both of your hands on the pillow. Remember to keep them open while the transfer takes place."

As he waited for his squire to adjust herself, Ser Connor took the blade and made two small, triangular marks on his own palms. His cuts this time were quick and deft and ignored the slight sting of pain. He kept his own palms facing upward just like his pupil's and placed them side by side before Kate's, making sure not to touch the pillow. The Mage Knight found it was also easier for him to concentrate when his own skin touched nothing but air.

"And now, for the most difficult part," he announced softly. "It will hurt, and it will try the limits of your discipline. It will feel like something that doesn't belong to you is fighting to get in. But you must not fight back. You have to allow it to enter and become a part of you no matter how much discomfort it brings."

Ser Connor gazed at his squire levelly and finished with, "Let us begin."

[Katelyn Marks]

As her patron drew the ritual blade from its sheath, she quickly felt a cold sweat begin to bead on her brow. Her hands were already clammy, and the Squire tried to be discreet as she wiped the free one off on her pants. Soon it would blood on her palms, not just nervous sweat. She wrestled with the uncertainty that reared its head and threatened to suffocate her like a snake coiling around her throat. The Mage-Knight surely felt her tense like a corned animal when the sharp edge of the knife met her skin.

It wasn't nearly as painful as she'd thought it would be, but as the marks were delicately cut into hand, the fact that she just had to sit there made the sting far more apparent. Her face twisted in distaste as thin lines of red swelled in the weapon's wake, and because of some strange, morbid fascination she couldn't seem to look anywhere else. The initiate was surprised by how quickly the first set was done, and almost in a daze procured her other hand when Ser Moore motioned.

The second hand was much the same, but though she was prepared, she winced as the first cut sliced into the fresh skin. She was glad for her patron's calm, quiet way--grateful for it really in this specific moment. The sight of her own blood welling to the surface and simply letting it happen--allowing another person to cut her--it was an extremely uncomfortable sensation. When she was finally able to look away, she saw the confidence in the Knight's eyes, and her lips trembled into the ghost of a smile.

She realized once she placed both of her hands back down on the pillow that it hadn't been that bad at all. For the most part it had been the manifestation of her own fears, and the discomfort of allowing someone to in essence to maim the skin on her palms. Katelyn took a deep breath to center herself and calm her nerves, and once Ser Moore's hands were hovering near hers with their own woods, she had a whole new can of worms to worry about. This was going to be the hard part.

She met his calm stare with uncertainty, but it was far too late to turn back. The Squire had allowed her patron to begin the ritual, and she was just too determined despite the mounting fear to not see this through. She'd already made far too much progress since the turn of the season to allow anything to stop her now, especially a brief moment of pain that would in turn be so rewarding. Feeling more determined, Kate smiled apprehensively--though a smile nonetheless.

"I won't fight it," she said with significantly more conviction than earlier. "I'm ready." The words were just as heavy and final as they had been before, and marked the beginning of the next step. No amount of honesty or discussion could really prepare for this. All she had was her own strength and the support of her teacher. At the thought, she felt some of her previous tension ease, and as she expelled another deep breath, found her confidence rise just a little bit.

"I'm ready," she said again, more for herself than her patron.

[Plume]

The Mage Knight returned his squire's smile with a knowing one of his own. She was truly ready now, or at least as ready as she would be, the conviction and determination written clear across her freckled features. He knew from personal experience no initiate could be fully prepared for the pain and invasive convulsions that usually accompanied the transfer of Res. But it was something only the student could learn to overcome. Ser Connor's had done all he could, the final task left to him being that of sending forth the Res itself.

Once Katelyn gave her final consent, he began to gather his Res. He had to exercise the utmost caution, for if he lost his focus or somehow transmuted the Res halfway through, it could prove deadly for them both.

It was a slow but sure process. No good would come of rushing, and once Ser Connor had enough Res drawn, he willed it to drift and hover over the ritual wounds over Katelyn's palms. It moved and gleamed like liquid silver, the color somewhere between fresh grass and morning dew, pausing in its patient journey as it reached the red lines on the squire's flesh.

And then, with utmost concentration and caution, Ser Connor sent his Res to begin seeping into the wounds. He also willed some of the Res to enter his student through her mouth, nose, and ears, the ensuing sensations no doubt as intrusive as they were jarring and, perhaps, outright painful. Tendril by tendril, the substance entered its new vessel, until none of its glistening form was left in the air between them. Only until the last of his Res had disappeared did the Mage Knight allow himself a calming exhale of breath. He withdrew his own hands and slowly opened his eyes.

It was all up to his squire now, and how she would fare beneath the strain of the unsettling invasion.

[Katelyn Marks]

When her patron's Res finally made an appearance, Katelyn was mesmerized. All thoughts of doubt and sensations of fear disappeared in the instant it seeped through the cuts in his palms like a transparent snake. The strange, silvery cloud slithered and bobbed through the air, accumulating in a writhing mass above her ready hands. It seemed alive--and the thought hit her that technically, it was. Her lips twitched into the semblance of a smile, and in amazement she watched the knight's Res carve its way down through the air and touch her wounds.

It was warm against her skin, and felt bit like a thick fog. The squire had been so fixated on the the Res that was swirling above her hands though, that when the strange gas touched her face, the realization of what was happening hit her again like stone wall. She gasped quietly, eyes widening, and in and instant the physical manifestation of his Djed invaded her.

It invaded her nose, mouth, and ears--wiggling deep into her body. As the gas slithered into the cuts across her palms, the skin burned. Tears filled her eyes and she fought the urge to tear herself away. Each quick breath drew more of it inside, and she watched in horror as the last of it finally disappeared. When her patron pulled away, she was grateful. She could give in to the pain now, as the Res tore through her, eating her insides and leaving her raw. Katelyn curled in on herself, fiercely clinging to her knees in the fetal position.

Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes, and a forceful bite to the lower lip filled her mouth with the taste of blood. The squire rocked on the floor for several chimes, whimpering and moaning as the Res wiggled its way to her middle. When it burned through her belly she thrashed suddenly, clawing at the skin and keening loudly in pain.

"Stop!" she wheezed, breathless from her tears and the uncontrollable burning. It felt like her organs had been set on fire. Her liver was surely charred, and her lungs threatened to burst. "Stop it, please!" Kate wailed, then gritted her teeth and rolled again, like a fish out of water. She clawed the blankets underneath her and kicked a pile of pillows as her legs started to convulse.

Panting hard, she balled up her fists and kneaded her eyes, trying to distract herself from the invasive presence inside her, then bit her knuckles to muffle another outburst. She couldn't relate the pain to anything she'd ever experienced in her life. As the Res ate its way down to her toes and turned, making its way back up again, she thrashed and tossed onto her side. Like a cornered animal, she panted and looked around, but saw nothing clearly. Tears blurred her vision and she bit her tongue hard. Blood trickled down her chin, and in a wild effort of desperation she grabbed and pillow and curled around it like a child, hoping to cushion herself against the pain.

Yet still it burned on, leaving her feeling broken and defenseless. There was no way to fight it off, and so she desperately clung to the hope that it would end before it either killed her or she blacked out.

[Plume]

There was a moment of stillness, of calm. And then all Hai broke loose.

Ser Connor watched, ever vigilant, ever composed, but there was a small sliver of worry that shone through his otherwise infallible armor. His squire had held scrunched herself inward, tears streaming down her freckled face. She was not reacting in the way he had hoped she ideally would, but neither was her current state a surprise. Either way, she was going to have to accept the transfer of Res, or risk losing her life in the process.

"Katelyn," the Mage Knight said in a calm but firm tone. "Katelyn, listen to the sound of my voice. Hear what I am saying."

Her eyes were darting everywhere at once, blind to anything but pain and the overwhelming desire to flee. Ser Connor pressed on anyway. He had to get to her, before she lost herself entirely to the need to escape.

"Listen to me. Don't fight it. I know you want to, and that every shred of your being agrees, but you must overcome your fear. There is no danger except that which you are driving yourself towards at this very moment." He didn't touch her, not wanting to worsen her state. But his voice grew louder and more insistent. "Accept it, Katelyn. Let the Res become a part of you without fear, without doubt. If you truly want to learn the at of Reimancy, to become a Mage Knight one day, then this is the price you pay. And a small price it is, for the wonders you will learn."

His words softened a little, though he continued to coach his student. "Remember that, squire. Remember what you truly desire. Do not see this as something painful or invasive, but a necessary, vital key to unlocking your greatest potential. Let it in. Don't fight it. Just let it in..."

For the next few chimes, Ser Connor spoke less and less, his voice growing more soothing and less persistent. Katelyn would need to grapple with the impulses and fears on her own, and he had done all he could.

[Katelyn Marks]

She heard her patron's voice through the thick fog brought on by the searing pain of his Res. It was distorted and muffled--the few words she caught did little to comfort her while she burned. The murmur of his comforts formed a background in her mind to the music of her pain, and she whimpered the notes softly to herself as her wrists and ankles twitched. Her heart was the drum, galloping and pounding its frightened rhythm against her ribs, and after another chime or so of battling the fire, she rolled up onto her knees and emptied the contents of her stomach. He'd warned her not to eat anything, and she hadn't, so the majority of the mess was water and acid.

Katelyn coughed and gagged, dry-heaving until she ached deep in her bones--a different pain than the initiation brought on. Her head swam, vision blurring and darkening. She was on the edge of a ledge, balancing on her toes and threatening to plummet. The squire teetered, but Ser Moore's voice pierced the ringing in her ears. Kate jerked, caught her breath, and rolled once more onto her back. A cold shudder ran through, contradicting the heat in her veins, and for the barest moment she felt relief.

It was enough to bring some semblance of sense back to her, at least for a tick. She wrestled with the wave as it threatened to crash back over her, wiping her tear-streaked face and giving a weak sob. Kate's body was raw, torn apart, and her thoughts were scattered. She felt like a turtle overturned on its back, struggling and wobbling to right itself. When the searing ache started to bloom in her belly once more, she turned onto her side and groaned, clutching at her stomach as if she could massage the pain out.

Katelyn breathed slowly. Her patron's voice had brought a few clear thoughts to the front of her mind, and she clutched at them desperately else they disappear back into the fog. She needed to keep calm, else she could die. His Res would leave nothing left.