IGNITION
Ink rolled off the bed and stared as an inferno of tempestuous emerald took hold of the ceiling. Ink bore visage to the abject majesty of consumptive destruction as green and white flames licked the walls and ceiling, spreading with an unnatural urgency. The verdant blaze felt alive beyond a simple elemental manifestation, promising a horrible end as the malevolent green hunger emanated waves of overpowering heat and blinding light. Ink was wracked by the sight, frozen in fear and memory as tears ran as rivers down their face.
The flames had awakened an echo of the past and had refused to release Ink, the recollection’s ashen grip pinning Ink's mind to remembering as their senses and body joined in rebellion of Ink’s present.
In the midst of the sea of green, licks of carmine cut into Ink’s experience. The wails of children trapped by fate and death filled Ink’s limbs as the heat of burning sprung into their ears. All of Ink’s sensations crossed and they collapsed to the ground, they could taste the impact on the fibrula. The end of Ink’s youth took hold as they once again saw their creche, a place where naive curiosity grew with each question asked of the nature of things. The ancient building was taken by carmine flame, Ink could see it as clearly as that moment so many years prior. And the screams; the screams of their classmates pulled Ink to the floor with sooty claws of the shades of children long gone.
As Ink's past and present blended to deny their future, the voice of Knives pierced directly into Ink's mind.
Ink did not respond, but their stream of consciousness flowed back along the connection, spiraling as Ink cascaded.
Knives screamed back along the connection.
Ink please
Ink
INK
INK STOP
INK SHUT THE FUCK UP I CAN'T HEAR MYSELF THINK>
Ink could not move, they could barely blink away the tears streaming from their eyes as their body felt numb, as if plunged into an ice bath.
Ink's mind spewed thought after thought, pummeling Knives with the surges.
flamewhyisitgreenitshouldnotbecarmine
howisitsowarmthisfeelslikeaglassworks>
Knives maintained the connection and shouted over Ink.
Just hold on I am nearly there>
Ink could barely process the loud crack off the door flying off its single remaining hinge and toppling against the floor. A lone figure stood backlit by the light of day as flames rushed to greet them; the figure dove backwards out of the way.
Knives sounded in Ink’s mind again.
Ink reacted.
seethingseasceasethandseethingseassufficeth
endoflineendoflineendofline>
Ink felt a sudden pressure in their mind as they were suddenly pulled out of their body, yanking on their heart as it was torn free of their chest.
Ink was under water, they could not breathe.
They surged upward, breaching the surface in a violent motion. Ink stood, buoyed by some surface under the water that now manifested under their feet. Their surroundings were changed, they now stood knee deep in water; there was no fire here. Ink was cold and naked and it was dark, impossibly dark; there was no light outside of Ink’s existence. Ink could see a few meters in all directions before a curtain of complete darkness prevented any seeing. Ink was cold and held themself tightly, their clothes had vanished. Ink's breathing was loud and just visible in the chill air. The sound of water sloshing as Ink moved echoed across the deafening silence.
Ink felt calm, no longer consumed by the fires of past and present. Their body moved and shivered; Ink wondered where they were and where the fire had gone.
A shape manifested into Ink's sphere, a large black cat; jumping and prancing along the surface of the water in complete silence, unaware that they should be sinking. The cat looked up and Ink saw the eyes of Knives staring back.
Cat-Knives emanated, the voice echoing across the still waters from no clear origin.
"Ink there is little time, you are not safe here.
This is but a dream, every breath you take here mirrors one your body takes.
Calm your mind and your body will follow.
I cannot do this for you but I will be with you every step of the way."
Ink spoke.
"Knives, what is this place?"
Cat-Knives flicked their tail in seeming annoyance.
"It has no name known to those who live nor can one easily wander here.
It used to be where we dreamt, but it has been mostly devoid for some time."
Ink looked more closely at the cat's eyes. While Ink could see Knives in the soft hazel specks, there was some far deeper and older intelligence present.
"You are not Knives, are you?
At least, you are not just Knives?"
The cat tilted its head to the side.
"Does it matter?”
Ink shook their head and their entire body shivered with the motion.
Cat-Knives continued.
“I believe you are ready, this will be jarring.
Remember, you will be back in the fire.
Do what you must to survive."
Ink nodded in thanks as they were pushed by some unseen force, falling backwards beneath the water.
Ink had control, the waters had soothed Ink’s mind into a single purpose.
"I can survive this."
Ink plunged back into their body and before their vision once again met their mind, they were crafting a spell. They uttered a forceful incantation and Ink wove their invocation. All light in the room was scattered, prevented entirely from reaching Ink's eyes. Ink's world turned to complete darkness, save a small circle formed between a curled finger and one of Ink's thumbs. Through this pinhole, Ink could observe their surroundings without being blinded by the greens and whites of the fire. The carmine was now absent and the haunting of Ink’s past no longer wracked them.
Knives' voice echoed once more.
Ink responded as they evaluated the room through their small window.
Knives asked with urgency.
Ink rapidly took in the room, every breath felt ragged, acrid fumes of burning fibrula grating against their throat as a strong smell of garlic lingered in their nose slits. They covered their face as best they could manage, but the smoke was persistent, driving itself deep into Ink’s lungs with each inhalation.
Ink's body, miraculously, followed their mind's lead, though Ink shook with effort as they quickly described the room to Knives.
Doorway and window are burning
Floors nearby are on fire
I am not seeing an easy exit>
Ink did make other observations of note as they relayed findings to Knives. The flame was dripping from above in slimy globs, it was unclear if this was the nature of the flame. The greens and whites of the flame made it likely this was at least part alchemical. The strong garlic smell plagued Ink, they felt they should know its significance. The heat of the fire was turning Ink's mind and body lethargic, processing their surroundings had begun to feel occluded and slow. There were some provisions near Ink, they noted the resonant icebox and a small water reservoir that were not yet taken by flame.
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Knives responded.
I was only burned by a small amount and had to cut the skin free
I could not extinguish the flame>
Ink replied.
Or risk running through
Or I need a new exit>
Ink took a shallow breath as they continued.
I do not have tools sufficient to fight the flames
Unless there is another magewright immediately available risking the flames seems my only avenue
Thoughts>
As Ink waited for a response, they spotted their ink ampoules yet untouched and pocketed the bunch. They also caught sight of a thick comforter that flame had nearly reached; Ink grabbed it before the fire claimed the thick quilt. The body next to the bed, now headless, was not yet taken by flame.
Ink pondered the significance of their head before refocusing as Knives asked as they tightly clutched the quilt.
Run fast and I will be on the other side
I will not leave you>
Ink did not reply.
Ink prepared a Conveyance; just because they were unlikely to survive did not mean the other inhabitants of the townhouse had to share their fate. As they prepared the incantation, they modified the spell to widen the effect while pushing away the normal limitations of the domain and gave a simple verbal offering.
“To The-Voice-Whispering–Secrets, accept my burden and I shall pay it back thrice-fold.”
Ink waited for affirmation and heard assent as an iron dinner bell was rung.
With permission granted, Ink then proceeded with their incantation, feeling the radius expand nearly a block out before invoking their conveyance telepathically.
Ink felt the burden of the spell rise in their core, threatening to sap what little of their energy remained before the gathering cost flowed elsewhere; the iron bell rang once more.
Next, Ink prepared another spell, one to shift the color of the room entirely to red. Ink and several other lightwrights had investigated sensitivity to different colors and determined that Lucidfolk perceived red as significantly dimmer while blues and violets appeared brighter. While Ink could modify the colors emerging from the fire, it was far easier to place a filter over their own vision.
Ink needed both their hands and as much visibility as they could afford, time was their enemy. This was a risk though, if the flame memory overpowered them Ink was unsure they would have time to recover from it.
Ink prayed to the Nine as they wove.
"Paragon, give my mind balance and my remembrances are yours."
Ink took a deep breath and closed their eyes, tightly gripping the downy quilt. They invoked their filter, allowing their previous scattering spell to dissipate. Ink opened their eyes and everything appeared red, every wall and every shadow. The light was still overwhelmingly bright and Ink's body began to seize as their breathing again tightened; the red was not carmine, Ink had made sure of that.
Ink remained focused on the feel of the quilt, its every stitch and fluff; they did not bow to past or present. Nodding while making sure they did not look up, Ink dragged the heavy quilt along the floor as they neared the provisions. Ink inventoried the small stockpile in front of them. They noted a water reservoir and resonant icebox as most important and looked for any agent they could use to thicken the water. Within the stocks, Ink found a bottle of silver syrup and one of honey; these sweetening agents would have to suffice.
Ink's shadow darkened as the red tones of the room brightened, the flame grew closer. Ink could feel the growing heat, it had become even more intense with each passing second. Ink’s back was recoiled against the ardor as they heard loud globs from behind like a thick pour of molasses onto stone, the ceiling must have been melting from above.
Ink tore into the quilt, ripping it open along one of the seams with the fury of desperation. Inside, they found it filled with flax and cotton, perfect for absorbance. Nodding with excitement, Ink grabbed both bottles of sweet and uncorked each before popping the top of the water reservoir and pouring the sugars as fast as they would flow. Using their hand, Ink stirred the resulting slurry and tasted it, the mix was unsurprisingly sweet. Ink then sloshed the concoction in a final mix before pouring it into the quilt; the blanket sucked up the mixture but Ink was not still.
Ink hopped over to the resonant icebox and quickly began manipulating it. The cold storage enclosure looked very new, another expense Ink would never have been able to afford. The icebox was a fibrula construction, shaped like a drum and as tall as Ink’s leg with thick walls packed full of stone floss, insulating it against the outside world. Ink tipped the container over and upside down, its frozen contents spilling out across the floor as ice and frost quickly began to sizzle in the heat. Ink quickly evaluated the size and guessed they could contort themselves to fit inside; lacking rigid bones did have its usefulness, but it would be unnecessary today. Moving rapidly within the icebox would be near impossible and each second increased the chance the smoke would likely kill Ink.
No, stick with the plan, Ink thought to themself, they were not even close to finished yet.
Ink tore into the bottom of the icebox, popping the smooth fibrula free. Nestled within a mess of stone floss were a trio of glass spheres glowing with a pale black light, it was hardly obscured by Ink’s red shift. These were elemental stones, resonant devices capable of manifesting elemental effects. Ink could feel the cold radiating off the trio, the set was full of magic. Ink stared for a moment, curious out how the resontry was powered before finding a miniature keystone. They plucked the clay construction loose and marveled at the size, this device was well beyond Ink’s means.
The keystone was shaped similarly to its namesake, curved in parallel on top and bottom with smooth sides surrounding the device. Ink was not an expert in resontry, their domain was alchemy, but the size of this keystone was absolutely remarkable. Contained within was Virtue, the concentrated potential energy that fueled most resontry which originated from the Peace of the Empress.
The townhouse moaned and creaked amongst the crackling fire, Ink could feel the structure beginning to shake.
Knives reached out once more.
Ink stared deeply at the keystone, seeing the explosive potential if they slightly modified the energy within, it could certainly destroy the ceiling if properly calibrated. Ink quickly ruled this out; they were probably doomed, but not suicidal. Ink pocketed the keystone before refocusing on the elemental stones.
A loud crack emanated from the ceiling and Ink froze and slammed their eyes shut. The floor shook and rattled with the impact as Ink felt the thud from behind.
But they remained untouched.
Knives reached out with urgency.
Ink bent down and fluffed open the quilt, it was now sticky and saturated with the sweet slurry. They then tore off a portion of the pants and grabbed one of the elemental stones, Ink could feel the bite of its chill with only a moment of contact. Ink tossed the sphere into the quilt and shook and fluffed the blanket, feeling it begin to cool from the introduction in equilibration.
Tearing off a second portion of their pants, Ink bundled the two remaining elemental stones as they knelt on the ground in search of something hard and sharp. They found a promising chunk of clay tile and quickly scored each stone, leaving a thin laceration in each. Ink prayed it would be enough as they draped themselves in the now frosted quilt, it felt like Ink had plunged themself into an ice bath. Ink shuddered as they covered their head. Despite the cold, the quilt remained wet, the additives had allowed the slurry to become far colder than water alone.
Ink began walking forward, eyes oriented at their feet. Scattered across the floor were broken planks of fibrula, some burnt, others melted, most glowing a faint red. Amongst the planks were the shattered remnants of clay tile, Ink could hear it crunching beneath their feet. With each step, Ink saw the mess of debris mound into a small hill of refuse, it seemed much of the ceiling had collapsed inward. The townhouse ground and buckled, Ink knew their time was running thin. Ink risked a glimpse to their side and saw one of the walls was now diagonal to the floor. Ink closed their eyes before the green-made-red flames took their mind.
Ink felt sudden weight impact along their back, heavy impacts that quickly spread like liquid; Ink began to breathe far too quickly before gaining themself once more and pressing forward. The liquid began to spread, Ink avoided thinking of what might be spreading so methodically.
Ink was becoming light-headed, their throat ragged as each breath was a painful reminder of the smoke, visibility had become exceedingly poor. Debris littered the entirety of the floor and Ink’s path became blocked by one of the large crossbeam supports of the unit, it towered up to Ink’s shoulders and fully occluded their way. The obstacle blazed with fury, spitting at Ink as if challenging them to try and press forward.
Ink accepted the summons.
As the false red glow of the fire heightened and the heat intensified, Ink took one of the elemental stone bundles, holding it by the sling, and slammed it forward with all their might onto the crossbeam, ducking down beneath their cloaking quilt at the moment of impact.
As Ink covered themself at that precise instant of contact, they heard the shatter of thick glass as black light and glacial air exploded from the sphere. Ink managed to keep themself mostly covered before looking back at the obstacle. The collapsed beams were now blackened and smoking, small embers still burning gently against the cold displacement. Ink climbed up and over, feeling simultaneous sensations of hot and cold on their flesh; it burned far worse than either alone.
Ink could feel their quilt stiffen and harden, as if something had frozen rigid on the exterior, forcing it to keep its shape. Ink jumped down from the pile of debris, hitting the floor with a slam far louder than intended, Ink could feel some of their cartilage bend and break in their legs.
Knives’ mind uttered.
Wincing in pain with each step, Ink fought forward as their legs and knees protested. Ink could still see the dance of flames and shadows in red as they gained purchase towards the entrance and they readied the second elemental stone.
Ink’s left leg betrayed them, refusing to hold any weight as Ink dropped to the ground like a sack of bread.
Their arm took the brunt of the fall as the elemental stone rolled out of Ink’s grasp.
Out of the grip and straight into the flames.
Ink once again was faced with fire.
And once again, their mind failed them.
Ink lost themself as the screams returned and their magic and mind dissolved. The red facade fractured and splintered like glass, revealing a blinding green-white death for Ink as they curled under the frozen blanket.
Ink could feel something from Knives, but no longer had the capacity to process.
Ink felt their tears freeze as quickly as they flowed.
And then they turned to steam as the flames rolled like a wave over Ink.
It was over.