Gorren walked in the corridors of his mind.

They appeared to him as walls of featureless white, their lines showing a grim perfection as they seemed to stretch into infinity.

Gorren stepped forward, not with the mental materialization of his body as much as with his thoughts. The corridors gave way to a large room, its lines and angle the same white of geometrical perfection.

A single drop of breath-taking beauty hovered at the center of the room. It was like everything magnificent and terrifying that existed in the world had been focused into a gem the size of a fingernail. Words couldn’t even come close to match what that single drop of Crux was. It was beautiful and majestic, fearsome and wonderful, terrible and humbling. It was the essence of all things, stretched across the expanses of eternity. And yet, it was but a paltry thing compared to the original.

As always, Gorren gave a moment of respect to its majesty. It deserved it, no matter how many times he witnessed it.

Given his tribute, he advanced towards it.

His senses stirred with the closing of the distance. Smells and sounds, known and unknown, caressed him. Vistas of things possible and impossible touched his eyes. The stream of sensations rose until he felt like he was watching entire worlds roll before him, seeing them being born, live and die. It was like he was a bird, like a God, soaring into the sky and embracing everything with his gaze.

It was glorious, and he relished it for a moment. Then, he waved with his hand. An aura of abyssal black appeared around the drop, and the sensations lessened to a mute thrumming at the edge of his mind.

Gorren allowed himself a moment to admire his work. The prison he had built inside of his mind for the drop of diluted Crux was one of the finest fruits born from his mind magic. It was such a shame that by its nature it couldn’t receive a name. He would have relished giving it one.

Putting aside that thought, he turned back at the drop.

He had worked relentlessly to trap it, during his, now he knew, decades spent in the Crux as a disembodied soul. As much as unflattering as it was, now he understood the reason for his perceived rapid progresses. His time perception was distorted.

Still, it didn’t matter. The results had been more than worth it. That drop of diluted Crux was his best ticket to understand the true nature of the Crux itself, a sample that could be analized with the little tools provided by humans senses.

He circled the drop, watching it with attention.

There was little he wouldn’t have given to focus himself on the study of that wondrous specimen, but such study would have required decades, centuries, maybe even more. It was a true monumental task, one that, regretfully, he still couldn‘t commit himself to.

But the time would come.

At his mental prompting, the drop moved aside, and a replica of Gorren himself appeared in its place.

The goblinoid image was wrought by silver lines, and hovered two palms above the floor. It was trasparent, the complicated flows of Mana visible as they crisscrossed their way under the skin. There and then, ripples of golden energy expanded, only to sink back in the normal flows, or the flows itself bulged and strained, like they were trying to escape their normal course, but then smoothed back in.

Gorren inspected the model with supreme attention.

That replica showed the actual state of his body and Mana. He had built it hoping to understand what exactly was happening to him, what exactly the influence left by his brush with the Crux was leading him toward..

To his supreme chagrin, he had no idea.

Alright, he had some idea. From what he could understand, the Crux had left some kind of “imprint” over him, a drop of itself, and that drop was still in the midst of mixing with his own energies. But he wasn’t able to foresee what the final result was going to be. His body showed some degree of degradation, but that, from what he could see, depended not so much from his own Mana but from the interaction between the Crux coating still clinging to his physical shell and the one dispersed into his Mana streams. For some reason, the two contrasted each other, and in so doing damaged his organism.

As much as concerning as that was, he was sure he could keep the damage under control. Problem was, that was all he could do. The Crux in his body was already too fused with his Mana to get it out, and the one around it was still out of his abilities to push away.

And thinking about that, he wondered if it really was the most prudent way. He would be more than happy to stop running around like a goblin grandpa, but the two energies, while contrasting each other, balanced each other also. The energy of the coating showed a tendence to immobility. If its opposite was eliminated, it wouldn’t do much, at least in theory. The one in his Mana, instead, was a thing of rushing trasformation. If it received free rein, whatever trasformation it was trying to do, it would go forward without anything to hold it back anymore.

And… he didn’t know what it would happen then. He had no idea. From what he saw already, he could hazard some wild guesses, but that was just as trying to foresee if it was going to rain a year from now, and simply wouldn’t do.

Gorren stopped, gazing at the Mana flowing. He knew he was supposed to be scared or apprehensive or something, but in truth he couldn’t contain his excitement. He was witnessing an interaction between the Crux and a living, breathing being. What would have been the results? Sure, as much as he was concerned, he would have very much liked the result not to be deadly, but the scientific value of it!

Also, it raised more questions about the creatures of the Astral Plane. Was that coating a result of intention? If so, it meant that they knew what the result of the influence would be, and tried to stop it, or at least slow it. But why? Did they fear the result? Or there was another reason? And if so, then did it mean that they occupied some kind of role in the Crux?

The questions just kept on coming, one more thought-provoking than the other. There was so much to discover, so much to learn yet. It was so exciting!

He sighed, dismissing the replica. As much as exciting it was, there really wasn’t nothing he could do for now, and that was something to be vexed about.

Still, it didn’t matter. As it was, the phenomenon advanced very slowly. He reckoned that it would need another century or so to start showing tangible results. In that time, he counted to have it under control.

After a last longing glance at the drop of Crux, he spread his arms wide and clapped his hands together. The white of his mindscape melted as the sharp crack resonated, and he returned to the material world.

“Master, we are ready.”

Gorren nodded at Thrax.

“Proceed.” He ordered.

The Gremlin looked concerned, a strange blend with his usual suspicious expression, but obeyed nonetheless.

Gorren stared coldly in the large hall that extended beyond the glass. It was bare, empty apart from the silent forms of golems arrayed against the walls. A glass-like wall bisected it in half, dividing it into two semi-circles.

As he watched, two doors opened, each at a side of the chamber.

Argus timidly scampered from one, while the fire-child glided from the other.

As seemed the case about everything, the two moved in manners utterly different. Argus stopped the moment he crossed the threshold, and started to nose the air, looking intimidated. He jumped when the door closed behind him, watched the now-formed wall with startled eyes, then hesitantly returned to his nosing.

On the other side, the fire-child slowly glided around, pivoting and making evolutions in the air, what it probably was for her taking in her new sorroundings.

The moment she noticed the golems, she yelped in outrage and flew against them. She ricocheted against an invisible wall before she could reach them and landed on the floor with a flurry of angry sounds.

Gorren waited for both to take in their sorroundings, then nodded to Thrax once again.

As the Gremlin held his hands over an apparatus, the glass wall shimmered briefly. When it stopped, Gorren knew that now it had become trasparent for the occupants of the hall as well.

True to form, the two noticed the shift as well.

The fire-child recovered from her tumble with surprising swiftness and, curious, glided toward the wall. Argus flinched back, instead, not looking very convinced at all.

They spotted each other at the same moment, freezing as they did.

Gorren stepped close to the mirror, eager not to lose a moment. His mystic senses were open at their utmost, grasping at the invisible processes that the influence of the Crux had put in motion inside of those two.

In Argus, he could feel the imprint as a hard mass, a stone lodged in the core of the little rat’s being. It spoke to him of steady, solid change, like a reef being smoothed and moulded by the currents of the sea. On the other end, the energy inside of the fire-child told him a history of devouring relentlessness, of frantic fighting against the dark, a savage wildfire seeking for fuel.

As they recognized each other, he could feel those strange energies react sympathetically, like two friends that met once again after a lifetime of distance.

It couldn’t be different by how the two bearers reacted instead.

The fire-child jumped back with a squeak, a startled sound that became an outraged hiss almost as quick as she pronunciated it. Puffing up her chest, she snarled, the light blazing from her eyes surging angrily. The flame that made for her hair roared.

Surprisingly, Argus wasn’t anything less. He abandoned his timid posture, rearing up to his full height. His fur puffed out, making him look even bigger than he was. His fingers hooked into sharp claws. His muscles tensed, and his body, that had looked so chubby and frail, seemed to become hard and tough. Argus curled up his lip, showing sharp incisors, and chattered angrily. The small, adorable rat had become a fearsome little monster radiating aggression and fightiness.

“Oh?” Gorren was intrigued by the reaction. As much as it was somewhat expected, from how their first meeting had gone, he perceived that it went deeper. The two energies, after the first benign reaction, had started to react negatively to each other. He could see them, like two opposite magnets that tried to push each other away.

“But why…” He murmured.

He thought back about what he knew of the Crux, but stopped himself from following that line of thought soon. There was no Crux at play here, at least no pure substance. What it was acting was an imprint, a lingering influence. Basing himself on what he perceived and what he had taken during his previous studies, it was clear that he had to treat this type of energy as a different class altogether.

That said, it wasn’t a problem, the opposite in fact. The Crux was infinitely difficult to understand. A scaled down version would be much easier to pin down. Still, his previous studies on the pure form would make a good basis, if taken with the right method.

He leaned toward the glass, watching with rapt attention.

The fire-child didn’t take well at Argus’ attitude.Throwing her head up, she bellowed, the sheer power of her voice hitting the walls like a physical force. Her fire only increased, raging wildly.

The intensity of her anger surprised Gorren. She didn’t even hesitate before the different form of her opponent. She just exploded with aggression.

If he was intimidated, Argus didn’t show it. The rat just chattered with more strenght, his tail swishing behind him like a heavy rope. His fur puffed up even more, standing straight on end. His large eyes shone with angry light, the same that was emitted by the gem in his forehead.

Without warning, the two dashed toward each other, launching war cries.

Gorren heard Thrax yelp, but he didn’t flinch.

As he expected, the wall stopped them, the two smashing against it with so much strenght that it trembled.

The fire-child ricocheted out of it and against the floor, before returning back at it almost without breaking stride. Argus stumbled back, a paw to his nose, snarled and did just the same.

Divided by only by the thin glass, the two sneered and snarled to each other, scrabbling against the wall in their haste to reach each other.

The frustration for not being able to drove them to even higher peaks of anger. The fire-child howled, the fire around her surging to encompass her completely, until she was a furious ball of flame. Argus rolled his eyes like a beast, spit dribbling down his chin.

They were completely out of control, as never before.

While Thrax stepped back, alarm increasing, Gorren watched with complete attention.

As Argus and the fire-child neared each other, the energies they contained had began to react differently as well. They repulsed each other, but at the same time they seek for each other, the violence of their desire overhelming.

Gorren could see them rage inside of their vessels, an inferno and an avalanche howling for release. They changed as they struggled to reach for the other, moving toward a new form, one that, he was sure of it, he could understand.

He felt it with certainty. He was on the verge of a new breakthrough in his comprehension.

But the energies wouldn’t move farther. They wouldn’t proced more in their trasformation.

There was need for something more, and he knew what that was.

He waved with his hand, a sharp, grim gesture. The wall disappeared.

Argus and the fire-child stumbled into each other, their cries cut out by the sudden surprise. It lasted only for a moment. Then, they fell on each other, savagely.

The fire-child’s fist burned Argus left whiskers and singed his cheek. Argus’ claw drew three red lines across the fire-child’s arm.

The two clashed with the desperate hatred of two beasts fighting for the last scrap of meat. They rolled on the ground, entangled into a ball of flame and fangs, teeth and fists. Soon, blood stained the floor.

As it happened, Gorren coldly watched, his arms folded before his chest. He ignored Thrax’s terrified glances, all of his attention for the form that the energies were aimed to take.

“It’s a war…” He murmured, but none but him could hear it.