Crambo

*************

Wyatt Graves

Learning Bestowing Strand is far more complicated than either of us was expecting. If I had to guess, which is problematic as time flows oddly here in the Codex, the previous seven stages took me a day or so in total. Maybe more. Maybe less?

It's definitely rapid to develop a Dzil in such a time. Which is why I find it challenging to trust my perception of time. And now that I'm nearing what feels like the end of the first week of learning Bestowing Strand, I stare back at those hovering words.

Stage Eight tasks.

Perform Bestowing Strand Ether.

Create a skill using Bestowing Strand.

Perform any type of Solid Ether.

Add the Solid Ether to the aforementioned skill.

We, Blodwyn and I, haven't managed a single part of it. It's hilarious. We sped through the other parts, expectantly, I suppose, but this one is just a brick wall. Bestowing Strand is... ah! It's so damn frustrating!

I shake my head since Blodwyn has relinquished control, needing to rest from such a lengthened amount of time awake. The unnatural trees around me hang dangerously as if looping down their gangly limbs to cut into my flesh, to feed from me.

Does this place exist in reality? I wonder where it is if it does. A lengthy sigh leaves my throat as I sit on the wet grass that needs no rain to live. Staying away from all the trees, I stare up at the moonless and sunless sky.

Bestowing Strand is the evolution of Living Strand. That much I've surmised. Instead of simply putting an aspect of your soul into Ether, you must take it another step, placing it within a solid. To that end, I can only guess that Solid Ether is a similar thing. I recall someone, somewhere, mentioning that Solid Ether is more straightforward to train with an actual solid to use, but I don't know how much ground that holds.

I've tried with wood, stone, ice, dirt, mud, and just about everything that is here. Even metal, using a spare dagger. Nothing has helped me at all. Though it's probably dumb to try to use Solid Ether without managing Bestwoing once. Not that I care. I'm attempting anything that holds potential.

I don't even know how I do this. What a fucking training tool, huh? Where is the guidance? All it does is tell me what to do, not how to do it!

"Hey! Any help! Remington!?"

My shout echoes along the trees, only to return to me with the same words I've used.

"Hey! Hey! Hey! Any help! Any help! Any help! Remington! Remington! Remington?"

Only on the second round, the noise is distorted and unnatural. Anger boils inside, but I clamp down on it. Fury and frustration won't help me here. Especially if my gut feelings about the man are true. Not that I know what I'm even feeling besides some discomfort and distrust. Either way, I needed this thing, this training. Instead of coiling into madness, I should run back through what I know.

Bestowing Strand is best used on objects. At only the highest level can it spread to Ether and living things. Alexos managed to do this as a 6th Sigil, meaning he also had access to Living Strand. If he wasn't limited by his meager amount of Ether, I'm certain he could have pulled off way crazier shit.

There are many types of Solid Ether, and I feel as though I can confidently claim that I don't have any of the common types. I don't even know the uncommon ones, though, let alone the rare ones. After all, those who reach this level are few in number. I doubt Vincent knows all the kinds despite his strength simply because there are not enough Virtues who learn Solid Ether.

Beyond Living Strand, there should be Bestowing. I merely have to figure out a way to push that thing past my own Ether and into an object. How do I put my soul into something? It feels natural with Ether, but to force it past that feels impossible.

Hmm... How do I push my soul with more force? I can control it marginally with my chains, but that seems to be my current limit. However... something tells me that I should have more power over my own soul than what I currently do.

My Sigil is all about the soul, right? It's about giving the soul additional strength and perception. There has to be something I'm missing. I'm too impatient.

I sit up from my splayed position with crossed legs. It's a forced position as I imitate Lennon. Meditation is not very common outside of Augurs and Mentalists, but he does it every single day to 'hone his focus,' as he says.

The man has shown greater mastery with his soul than I, considering he has a Dominion that only grows more powerful with each day. His might be weaker in totality, but he can use it with meticulous control. So, I follow his example.

I inhale a hearty breath, closing my eyes as I attempt to enter meditation for the first time. Stray thoughts bombard my mind as I immediately start thinking of Ether. I grow frustrated immediately, yet, I persevere, determined to replicate the calm and serenity I witnessed in Lennon.

With each attempt, I strive to clear my mind of distractions to silence the cacophony of thoughts that clamor for my attention. There are so many things I want to know, from my father to simply this damned Ether. I fail again and again, but I have little to lose as whatever I'm doing right now isn't working.

Time rapidly loses its meaning in this strange realm of gnarled trees and swirling mists as I sink deeper into my innermost self. It was already hard to track. And now, as my breathing slows and my heart calms, I forget what day I am on. For a moment, I attempt to remember that thought before shutting it down.

Slowly, gradually, the relentless stream of thoughts begins to subside. Like waves retreating from the shore, they recede, leaving behind a tranquil silence. The silence reminds me of my first time using Echo, a skill that required similar conditions to operate originally.

With this silence, however, my perceptions seem to distort. I leave my eyes, my focus waning as it spreads across my whole form. I spread down my body, passing Blodwyn by as I acknowledge the slumbering heart within me. Then, I continue until I reach the bottom of my toes.

I take a moment to recollect the sensations, noticing a disturbing disconnect at my right arm. I can sense my whole body at once, every moving part, every tiny drop of blood, yet I cannot feel anything beyond my right shoulder. Ah, right. I lost that arm long ago. My soul has adapted to its vanishment.

It is a curious thing how adaptable a soul is. Humans are similar. Lennon's right about most of the things he preaches, but he is on the money about struggle being the best way to grow. A branch is pulled too far, and it breaks, never to come back. A human, bent too far, as long as they survive, can spring back stronger than ever. I lost an arm and grew to fight without it, more powerful than before. Virgil lost his ability to stand beneath the sun, and so he grew to conquer the dark. Lennon lost both his arms to wield swords with, and so, he now uses his very soul.

My soul is much like that. As I gaze over the colorful tint that my body exudes to me, I witness my many scars. Every single injury I've ever taken is documented here, in my soul. I begin to count them but swiftly stop. There are simply too many. Too many scars. So many I cannot recall, their visages forgotten by time.

Unhurriedly, my focus slides along my body, searching for my Sigil. I already know where it is, the point where my soul and Sigil are combining, but as I approach the back of my skull, I find another link.

Deep within the confines of my brain, at the back of my head like always, lies my Sigil. It is hardly recognizable due to the gathering of my soul around it and the many lines that connect Blodwyn to me. Still, underneath the clangor, I find the many eyes and chains awaiting me.

This is it. This is the nexus where my powers and my physical form converge. This is what I have to control. There is an amorphous blob that seems to fill out my whole body, spreading from the Martyr Sigil. That is my true soul. The rest of it that I was sensing before are only the outermost sections of my soul.

I focus upon this aspect of me, and I will it to manifest, to obey my commands. Ether swoons from my Sigil, pulled from somewhere I still don't wholly understand. Ether comes from the Sigil but can also come from the air. One day, I hope I'll figure out the mystery of what Ether really is, but for now, I don't let my will waver.

A second passes with supreme resistance. It's like something refuses to budge. Then, the Ether comes on its own. A secondary will, one not mine but close enough that it might as well be, moves the Ether for me, washing over the soul and outside the body. The Ether originates from my Sigil, and my soul stretches over it.

I watch as the soul follows the Ether toward my heart, and I take the reins. Hauling the Ether to the side with my will, I pull toward my hand. The Ether moves slowly as if it knows what I desire from it, but a secondary force provides additional thrust.

Quickly, the Ether, coated and melded with my soul, reached my fingers. Then, it stops at the edge of my skin, refusing to go further. Another wall. I think I grit my teeth, but I'm not sure. My focus is too profoundly placed upon my innards to be assured one way or the other.

Again, I push. I push, and I push.

A scream comes from somewhere, echoing a thousand times before rumbling through my body. Pain lacerates through my soul as the bits close to the flesh open into countless scars. It is an agony I've never felt before. It is... it goes beyond even the Codex's intrinsic effects, placing wounds onto my very soul.

It feels crippling. I should stop. But I can't. If I pull back... Something tells me it will only get worse. I made a poor decision, built upon inquisition, and now, I have to lie with it.

So, I reengage with all my might, crashing the waves of my soul to slide out from the confines of my flesh. And for an instant, it begins to work. My soul glides out of the tiny holes of my flesh and my pores and spreads along the outside of my fingertips.

However, it doesn't go any further. There seems to be some kind of limit as more and more scars lacerate my soul. The bit that is outside my body is buffeted constantly by awful winds. I nearly black out as my focus wanes, but the pain abruptly lessens as I feel an object touch my soul.

It is simple. It is a regular knife used for cutting up food, starting fires, and all the other necessities of travel. Blodwyn must have grabbed it.

The section of my soul that has slithered out wraps onto the surface of the object. Doing so feels akin to what I do with my Ether, only this is far more substantial. Souls seem to hold a more prominent might than Ether. It only would appear to be absurdly difficult to stretch one's soul beyond one's vessel.

But what I've done is not enough. My hand's grip tightens, and I follow Blodwyn's lead, urging my soul and Ether to enter the steel. It feels cold. So... cold. A shiver runs through me, and my eyes flip open as my soul enters just the edge of the knife.

"Haah!..."

A soul-shaking and bone-trembling gasp of air ruins my position, landing me on my hands and knees. But within my left hand is a dagger glowing with my soul's light. It is iridescent, holding limitless colors and tones. A voice enters my mind in congratulations as one of the tasks leaves the list.

"You did it! Awesome! It seems you gave it an effect as if it had a Sigil! I don't know for how long it'll last, but you did it! Remember what Aniwye said? Only one in three Angels learn Bestowing! You're already better than them!"

My eyes stare at the remaining three with Blodwyn's excitement in my mind.

Stage Eight tasks.

Create a skill using Bestowing Strand.

Perform any type of Solid Ether.

Add the Solid Ether to the aforementioned skill.

Of course, it wouldn't count as a skill.

"Thanks... but we have more work to do."

Blodwyn nods in our mental world, but he doesn't stay quiet like usual. A newly confident voice asks for my input.

"Hey. I know that our Ether doesn't seem to fit with any of these solids. But... there is one that we haven't tried yet. Bone."

Bone? Bone? That doesn't make any sense. Bone isn't a natural substance. It's produced by living things. How could Ether possibly form into that as a substance?

Wait. Wait! So is wood!

"You're a genius, Blodwyn! Grow a Bonespike!"

A grin falls onto our faces, shared by both our minds, as the lingering pain in my soul slides to the wayside. I'm too excited by this. So, I grab onto the Bonespike and close my eyes, taking a deep breath. The first attempt was painful, terribly so, but what else am I to do here, wait? I can't do that. I need to get to work.

Round two.

**********************

Every thought that leaves my skull comes with shaking, trembling misery. It's hard to even open my eyes as Blodwyn takes control of our hands to lift the object. His joy is unabated, even through my pain. I don't blame him, however.

Skill created: Soulbone———A skill that uses Bestowing Strand to artificially create a Claymore-like weapon out of bone. The bone is nigh-unbreakable, and its strength is equivalent to the bearer's soul. The form cannot change once made, and the soul within will fade after approximately twenty-four hours. The innate attribute of the bone is modified based on the soul that uses it. Current attributes include Soul-shattering and Bone-distortion. Warning: Skill temporarily damages the soul. Too many uses can lead to death.

Stage Eight tasks.

Perform any type of Solid Ether.

Add the Solid Ether to the aforementioned skill.

I grit my teeth, manually compelling my consciousness to remain. Blodwyn laughs as he holds the Soulbone, a spike roughly two feet in length tapered to a point. A second passes before my companion returns the control to me, and I get to feel the sensation of the bone.

It's warm. Absurdly warm, like that of coals after a bonfire. I swing it through the air, and it leaves behind a wobbling remnant of bony dust in the air. A smile lengthens but quickly disappears as I clench my head in pain with my other hand.

A voice manifests as I fall to my knees, struggling to stay conscious. I immediately comprehend the speaker to be Remington, but the man leaves no time for me to reply. His voice is both impressed... and somehow disappointed.

"You... It has been six hours outside and a year in here. How did you... Bestowing Strand requires a soul at least twenty years old. I was not aware of how potent the Philosopher was. You're done training. Get out before you permanently cripple yourself or worse."

I can't even raise an eyebrow before a palm slams against my chest, opening my already widened eyes. The Codex falls from my palms, only to be grasped by Aniwye. She smiles at the tool, and I immediately know that she will use it next.

But she's not the one I'm worried about. The edges of my perception are gone. Even my vision only lengthens out to a few dozen feet. Temporary damage? This feels permanent.

The golden hand of sand that is Remington Shaw taps my forehead, the act carried by frustration and annoyance.

"You dunce. I put you in there to take your time. That is the best teacher, time and experience. Why did you rush it? Now... Once you heal, I want to see that skill of yours. Then, we'll let Devil decide. But... I'm not sure. It seemed pretty strong from what my split-soul told me, yet it's still not Solid Ether."

My vision continues to flicker in and out as Aniwye picks up the slack, asking a question I am unable to.

"What's so critical about Solid Ether? And split-soul? Did you—"

Remington has little patience this time, floating over to my skull. I backstep away from him, but I—

"—not sorry. He needs to rest. Stop looking at me like that, demon. Split-souls are capable with complete mastery over Soulful. Once you reach that point, you can attempt it, too."

Lying on the floor, back to the ground, I stare up at my mother speaking to a hand. Lennon, Birdie, Marion, Otto, and even Silas surround me, but they are all doing their own things. Nevertheless, Aniwye grips onto the Codex so tightly that someone would have to kill her to take it.

Did I just? Yeah. Remington did something to me related to time. Sighing, I let the tiredness wash over me. The pain in my soul is only temporary, at least. Though, that's only my soul.

"Practice Ether, Blodwyn. I refuse to believe Remington's rule is absolute. Nothing is with Ether. When I wake up... we'll show 'em."

A low, approving growl is my reply as I close my eyes. I don't hear his verbal response from my rapid descent to darkness, but I know his stance on it. Still, as I fade away, a question lingers in my mind. It doesn't fade even as I enter the depths of slumber, bouncing every which way with apprehension.

Why did Remington send me to learn Bestowing if he knew there was a risk in it? Did he... count on something bad happening to me?