The Rift.
An unforgiving realm where no star ever shines. Where the forgotten words of shadows linger and hunt. Where the remnants of a broken past lay before those who seek them. All desperate for the light…
In this dark and inhospitable place, far beneath the last cornerstones of reality, rests an ancient sanctuary. A place outside the purview of normal space-ti, where the laws of the universe have unwoven and sewn back together in an orderly fashion.
Its origins, unknown. Its roots, forsaken. However, one thing remains—its na.
[The Faerie Court].
And the one who now owns this enigmatic space was none other than a mortal touched upon by the hands of fate.
As for what this mortal plans to use this mythical bastion for?
“To court death, of course!”
Soren watched jubilantly as another magecraft spell turned into a bright flash of colors before his eyes. His vision blurred and a ‘glass-like’ explosion bood from every angle he could hear from.
Then, every ounce of feeling in his body felt alien to him—as if he had imrsed himself within a void of emotions and senses. Not even the Veil of Perception felt this hollow…
But that was just the beginning of his pain. An even more drastic change occurred—one that seed to happen within his very soul. A battle unlike any other—a clash of wills. The anima from his Wards affinity collided with the anima from his srism affinity, each force vying for dominance within his Three Layers. Had he been within his Echo of Mind, he might have witnessed a cataclysmic fusion of two opposing hurricanes, spinning in reverse, crashing into one another in a chaotic storm of powers that shredded everything within its grasp.
The effects were imdiate. Soren felt his mind split in half. As if the left side of his brain and his right were having an argunt over who controls what. His skull felt as if it was lting and from within, a horde of insects were scratching against his cranium. Blood seeped from his eyes and nose as he slouched to the ground in pain.
Seeing this from a distance, the fla’s voice echoed into his ear. “You failed once again. What did I tell you? Combining two opposing forces of one’s own will is impossible. Even if the similarities between Wards and srism were countless, they are still inherently different wills.
“Even a pair of twins will have massive disagreents from ti to ti…”
Soren tried to reply, but all he could do was cough up more blood as he laid on his side in pain. The voice continued:
“It is the final day of our bet. Give up. Once you give control over your life and fate, I will make sure to honor all of your promises. After all, I am still another version of you. You don’t need to resist that much.”
Soren didn’t say anything. His mind was muddled as the fight between the two opposing will powers continued. Their forces seed equal—the only conclusion if they continued would be the death of both. And yet, neither side wanted to back down.
It was as if… They were trapped.
The fla noticed this oddity and flickered unevenly. “Strange… The magecraft spell should not have had this drastic of a side effect…
“Searching data…” Up above the dazzling field of flowers, a strange array of colossal bookshelves shifted in the sky. But deep within that formation, was a lonely bookshelf that seed close to being full and yet separate from the rest. The Records focused its gaze upon it then ordered for that information to be recalled.
“Experint Log #495: Excessive blood loss to the brain cited.
“Side Effect Duration: 4 minutes and 45 seconds.
“Experint Log #634: Psychosis cited. Hallucinatory objects were seen from the subject.
“Side Effect Duration: 3 minutes and 6 seconds.
“Experint Log #854: Loss of vision and hearing cited.
“Side Effect Duration: 4 minutes and 25 seconds.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from ; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Experint Log #1078: Paralysis cited. Movent of only the eyes was retained.
“Side Effect Duration: 4 minutes and 16 seconds…”
The list continued. Experint Log #1334—and every log that followed—showed the sa pattern: side effects lasting no more than two to five minutes.
The Records turned its gaze to where Soren now lay. His body was convulsing violently, twitching in chaotic spasms as blood gurgled from every one of his orifices. This was beyond just a normal seizure—past trials did not even show 10% of the current effects he was passing through.
The Records recalled from its data the duration of this current episode:
“10 minutes and 45 seconds… 46 seconds… 47 seconds…”
And still, the effects hadn’t ceased. The counting continued.
Out of a total of 3,356 trials, this was by far the longest any side effect had persisted.
All the fla could do was continue counting. Ten minutes turned into eleven, then fifteen, then twenty… It considered terminating the experint completely by using [Fictionalization] to disperse the anima within his Three Layers, but that was outside the purview of its authority.
Soren Andersen—this mortal… He was still the one in control. Until he died, The Records could not operate without his orders. And in a sense, him dying here would benefit it greatly so helping him provided it no incentive in the first place.
And so all it could do was watch… and count. As the seconds passed and turned into minutes, so too did his probability for survival.
At the twenty seventh minute mark, it ran the numbers:
“2.56%...”
And yet, even though every portion of its analytics scread to prepare—prepare to assu control and to beco the new master of the Faerie Court—a strange uncertainty still managed to creep its way in…
Why?
There were no more variables to consider. No unseen factors. And yet… sothing stirred within the enchanted fla. It flickered unevenly as its shades of gold shifted and turned from bright to dark, to bright again…
It wasn’t a matter of confusion. No, it was subtler, deeper…
A mixture of fear… and excitent.
And that was when it noticed. The anomaly within the chaos. The one thing it had overlooked which had skewed its calculations by just a few degrees…
Soren… was smiling.
Even as his ichor seeped from every orifice.
Even as his brain boiled itself from the inside out.
Even as his senses slipped away, leaving only an empty void for him to feel.
His lips still curved upward—slowly, as if every minute the pain lasted was according to plan.
“Inconceivable…” This was completely illogical. Even though The Records could not interfere with his experints during these past two weeks, it could still notice and understand the countless trials they had gone through. After all, all the data was within its grasp.
From changing the ratios of anima, to twisting the geotries of the spellforms themselves… There was nothing Soren didn’t try. At one point, he even inverted the Bind spell, allowing its axioms to flow in the opposite direction in hopes of stirring a different reaction from it…
And yet, the trial it was currently [Record]ing—Experint Log #3,357… It was not even half as outlandish as the ones they did previously.
In fact, it was nothing more than a repeat trial of Experint Log #156…
“No wait…” There was one change.
Rather than allowing the anima flow ratio to be higher for the Wards affinity, Soren did the reverse this ti. srism currently contained a higher ratio of anima within the spellform…
“Strange, shouldn’t he be trying to assimilate the srism affinity as another branch of Wards? Why would he be doing the reverse?”
The experint continued.
By now, even his voice was gone—stripped away by painful screams too violent to endure. The pain had most likely torn his vocal cords to shreds. Worse still, he was choking on his own blood. Every breath was now a struggle—a war against suffocation.
And yet, that elusive smile remained…
What was he thinking? How could he possibly endure this? Had he finally lost his mind?
These thoughts spiraled within the fla’s inner consciousness. And, for the first ti in its paradoxical existence, it felt as if it could no longer understand its host.
That… truly terrified it.
Unaware of The Record’s thoughts, Soren continued his struggle. Until finally, it ended. The fla watched in both horror and excitent as the anima within him stabilized. The final ti recorded for the trial… 36 minutes and 55 seconds…
“Re…cover… …”
His gargled and broken voice ordered the fla. It did as it was commanded—[Fictionalization] turned his body back to its original state.
After a few minutes of simply laying on the ground, Soren stood up and dusted his clothes, and yet he almost tripped over himself anyway. Even as his body recovered, the mories of the pain he had to endure persisted. The madness within his eyes had grown—what was once a tiny ember had now beco a raging wildfire.
He glanced up at the flickering fla and smiled eerily. “I succeeded.”
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