Delirium and pain were Eiden’s reality. No dreams came to whisk him away in the blissful dark. Through his aura senses, he saw the outside world, but could not move his body made of flesh. His eye-lids were unresponsive as well, denying him sight, but not sound. Darkness spread out like a blanket. Wisps of pressure and emotions signaled the presence of the living.

Trapped and suffering, Eiden's spirit boiled underneath his skin. He felt his ethereal self better than before, his spirit-sense becoming more sensitive. But, to Eiden, that was no comfort. He witnessed the pain coursing through his immaterial flesh in excruciating detail.

The veins of his spirit were cracked, fracture lines spreading through them that spilled precious vitality into where it shouldn’t be and delaying its arrival to critical places. His mana channels had been shattered, scraped, and seared on his right arm, and scorched and slathered in black sludge on his left arm. The black sludge consumed his vitality, spreading its burning blight like slugs borne from the Nine Hells.

Eiden’s spirit boiled and writhed, his aura felt like crackling water made of molten stone. The pain sealed away Eiden’s ability to enter his mind as he had before. Every time he tried to enter his mental plane, his body and spirit simultaneously convulsed in pain.

Eiden could feel some of his body through his spiritual senses, but only glimpses of certain parts. These parts felt different from the rest, more like his spirit than his body made of flesh. His heart, in particular, had felt almost entirely spiritual, not corporeal. The ball of amorphous mana-flesh thrummed like a blacksmith’s hammer had gone to an anvil. The heart felt like it was made of steel. The veins closest to it were coated in the same substance that made up his heart, an argent mana that had defiance burned unto its arcana. Realizing that he could “see” his spirit in a sort of color, Eiden focused his aura senses outwards. No color bled into his mental sight—it was the same pressure that indicated a living being with sentience. If it had emotions, it put a burden on his mind like the world was a blanket weighed down by clumps of emotions.

He sorely wished he could grasp the outside world in the same vivid color as that of his spirit. If only to escape from the pain.

Eiden felt his mentor’s aura through his mindsight. The Exorcist’s aura was calm on the surface, but tense and worried at its core, knowing that he could do nothing for his apprentice.

At some point, the fever that had assailed Eiden’s body and spirit lessened. The once scalding-hot water was now only boiling. His mana channels repaired themselves, scarring over the fracture lines. His spiritual veins had become thinner and more erratic, slowing down the circulation of vitality. The black sludge slowly cut through his spirit, making its way towards his center, and damaging all in its path. There, they assimilated into the writhing mass that was his ethereal stomach. The hungry lump of leeches had grown restless, pulling vitality like a vortex.

Eiden’s steel heart had slowly converted the mana channels towards his Center, encasing the mass of leeches in argent mana. The process felt like molten metal was poured into his veins, burning them and sticking to their walls. The argent mana replaced his channels, eating away at the scars towards his center. The leeches were sealed away in a layer of steel, stopping their pull of vital essence.

The pain and delirium slowly faded away, finally leaving Eiden to drift towards blissful sleep.

Eiden woke up slowly. He was back in his bed at the inn, most of his body feeling sore and stiff. The skin of his arms felt like they were on fire. Bandages covered his arms, but he could still see the damage through the gaps of fabric. Burn marks spread over his left arm, and black blotches of winter’s rot infected his right. His muscles felt stiff and sapped like they were made of inflexible stone. His finger-nails on his left hand had turned to black claws, the tips of his fingers feeling more responsive to his spiritual senses. Mana-flesh, the same as his heart, covered the tips of his fingers like black candle wax that could not be wiped away.

“Finally awake, lad?” Said Fin. Though his voice was casual, Fin’s aura emanated relief, relaxing and dispersing the tension in the skin of his spirit.

“Almost.” Said Eiden, stretching out gingerly and letting out a yawn. “How long was I out for?”

“A fortnight.” Answered Fin.

“How is that possible? I still need water, don’t I?” Asked Eiden.

“Yes and no. Your spirit nurtured you, and your metabolism also slowed down considerably, allowing you to survive with less. But, there are repercussions to that.” Said Fin.

“What does ‘metabolism’ mean?” Asked Eiden.

“It’s a set of life-sustaining chemical reactions. Think of your body like that clock I gave you—full of small bits and pieces working to keep the time running. Metabolism would be how fast those little bits and pieces work to keep the clock working.

“Let’s say you were to die at six of starvation. A slower metabolism would slow the clock’s hands, and it would take longer for it to get to six. You’d be using less overall energy.”

“Interesting, and what’s a ‘chemical’?” Asked Eiden.

“Everything. Chemicals are the bricks that make up the ‘house’ known as the world. I’ll give you a primer on alchemy and chemistry later today. Now, we have to talk about what happened yesterday.”

“Yeah, that.” Said Eiden. The young mage had been avoiding the topic. The memories of his most recent pain-filled dreams were raw like a wound on the soul. Nine Hells, I may have actually damaged my spirit.

“I know you’re uncomfortable about it, Eiden.” Said Fin. “But, we need to talk. You almost lost full control. If you had taken just one more step in the wrong direction, you would’ve suffered a fate far worse than death…” Fin let out a weary sigh before continuing.

“It wasn’t entirely your fault. The factors at play have made you more susceptible to a breakdown. Your awakening had been chaotic enough, add that onto your young age and your grief, it was surprising that you didn’t send that cliff into the ocean.

“Now, tell me your side of the events.”

Eiden swallowed the knot at his throat, looking down at his frost-bitten arm. The Crown of Order gave Eiden control over the world at the cost of his connection to it, embracing him in a blanket of indifference. Descending into depths of apathy was like freezing to death—slow and tranquil. It didn’t set off any alarm bells in his mind, lulling Eiden into false safety. The young man had heard the stories and seen the corpses of those claimed by the hoarfrost. Their flesh turned to stone, and their eyes were frozen open, hollowness emanating from the orbs like the light of a beacon.

The worst part was their clothes or lack thereof. No one stole from the frigid, they shed them willingly as the cold tricked their senses and seduced them onto their last winter breath.

Seeing Fin’s lack of judgment in both body and spirit, Eiden let go of his reluctance. Becoming vulnerable had not been a strength of Eiden—weakness got a tunnel rat stabbed in the gut and left to rot in a gutter.

“Okay.” Said Eiden. “I understand. I’ll explain as best as I can...”

Eiden retold his experience in the black of his mind and in the outside world.

“Thank you, Eiden. I know how hard that must’ve been for you to share. Letting a person learn the inner workings of their mind and soul is uncomfortable, no matter the situation. Now, let me give you some answers for your powers.

“Those whispers are known as the ‘Call of Knowledge’.” Said Fin. “They are a form of soul-magi communication, how your mind and soul communicate with one another. The crown was an arcane manifestation, not unlike your soul-marks.

“Now, we’ll focus on the backlash you have suffered. Since your awakening removed most limits of your spirit, your magic is strong but also damages you. Usually, a mage passes out with severe mana drain, but, again, the limits over your magic have been strained till the breaking point. You used enough mana to incur arcane fever. Also known as the magician's malice. Or maleficar's rot.

“Your spirit had a distinct lack of mana, in response to that, most of it was routed towards your ethereal heart and Center. Your aura severely diminished, enough so that it felt like you were a corpse.”

“It felt like I was put in a pot of boiling water.” Said Eiden, a shiver shooting down his spine like lightning.

“Aye, I’ve experienced it before.” Said Fin. “The heat is to prevent foreign spirits from invading. We’ll talk about why that is and how it works at a later time. There’s more damage to your spirit that we’ll have to assess. I couldn’t properly sense the internal damage with a surface look. I’ll form an empathic connection between both of us, so that I can gauge your situation.”

Eiden felt a tendril emanate from Fin’s aura. It felt like a blooming flower offering a handshake. The young mage accepted the connection, opening his spirit up. Eiden had never felt so vulnerable in his life, a shiver shooting down his spine. He felt naked and vulnerable, his spirit bare to the world. The connection dissipated like smoke, the mana settling into the environment like a blanket of unseen snow.

“I’ve got enough of a look.” Said Fin. “You seem to have been blessed and cursed once more. Your arms’ mana channels are scarred over, so it’ll take longer to pool mana into your limbs. But, your heart seems to have been entirely remade into mana. It felt like a steel ball more than a heart, but it seems to be circulating blood normally in tandem with mana.

“Your center is covered in the same metallic mana as your heart, sealing it shut…”

Fin mulled things over in his thoughts before continuing.

“The total amount of mana you generate while awake is not enough to sustain you if you use your powers at maximum. With all the scarring and conversion of flesh into mana, you will have to find another source when you plan on performing magic. Which leads to the next thing. Remember when I mentioned mageborne?”

“Yeah.” Said Eiden.

“I have a tome that’ll explain more in-depth.” Said Fin. “But, for now, my brief explanation should suffice.

“You are a mage borne of magic itself. As such, you’ll have more exotic powers and a higher chance for acquired magicks. I’ve read through the literature and found out what variant of mageborne you are.” Fin let his sentence die, plunging Eiden into mind-burning curiosity.

“Come on, out with it!” Said Eiden.

“Aye, lad. You’re a bloodborne mage. Also known as a blood mage—a magician borne from the dying, ruby blood of a magic creature. They have an affinity for life and blood mana. They aren’t entirely treated kindly among other mages, their affinities possessing a chance for vampirism. With your blood mana affinity, you could drain the vitality from another to replenish your own. Perhaps, even drain it from a vampire…”

Eiden’s eyes bulged, his breathing coming ragged and his heart pounding at the back of his throat. Was he fated to become a monstrous wretch? Kin to the thing that murdered his friends? He knew he had taken on something from the monster, but Eiden never thought he had the chance to become it. Rationally, he knew it was just a chance and not a guarantee. But, beneath the surface, his emotions threatened to take him back into nightmares, the pain, the crawling insanity. The vibrant red. Doubt was sowed into his psyche like water in a drought, bleeding into the cracks of his confidence.

Thump.

Eiden’s heart slowed, the metal in his chest bringing a small amount of comfort.

Thump.

His breathing slowed, the metal in his chest giving him strength.

Thump.

His mind stopped racing, the metal in his chest constricting over the writhing emotions like it had done with the leeches.

Eiden descended into a meditative state, the thump of his heart sending him inwards. His spirit sense focused on the repetitive beating over his left lung. He did not know how long he was immersed in the introspection. Time stretched for so long while passing in a blink of the eye.

Once he felt stable enough, Eiden opened his eyes. Fin stood in a chair in front of him, meditating as well.

“How long have I been out? Again.”

“You woke up around dawn today.” Answered Fin. “The afternoon has almost turned into night.”

“Oh… can I have the book you read? About the mageborne.”

“Sure, lad…” Said Fin, getting up and walking toward a chest. Fin turned back, looking at his apprentice.

“Eiden.” Said the Exorcist.

“Yeah?”

“Nice work, lad. You’re always going to be at the precipice with your powers. But, the step is always yours to take or not to take. Remember that, Eiden. The step forward is always yours.”

Eiden read through The Mageborne by Alistair Pendleton. The tome provided him the basic information needed to understand his peculiar awakening. He asked Fin questions to fill in the gaps in vocabulary and knowledge. The tome itself was relatively small when compared to the Path of the Soulcerer by Malphas Eventide.

Eiden had been focused on the book when Fin asked him a question.

“Sorry,” Said Eiden, “say that again?”

“What do you think is a mage’s greatest strength?” Asked Fin.

“Their ability to destroy things?” Said Eiden, unsurely.

“No,” said Fin, “cost and dependability. A power that costs too much cannot be relied upon at times of scarcity. And a power that is dependent on emotion or state of mind can easily fall through your grasp when you need it the most.

“The power you demonstrated almost two weeks ago was incited by your emotions. You tapped into a lot of raw power in a short amount of time, but it incurred a consequence—a temporary coma and arcane fever. We’ll train you to use minimal amounts of power so that you don’t incur backlash every time you do magic.”

“What’s a ‘coma’?” Asked Eiden.

“A deep sleep that the body enters to protect itself.” Answered Fin. “Get ready, and we’ll practice today on some mental exercises. Oh, and you’ve somehow gained another soul-mark.”

“What? Where?”

“Check your back and chest.” Said Fin as he exited the room. “Take a bath, and then, meet me downstairs for breakfast. Or, in this case, dinner.” He said through the door.

Eiden lifted up his shirt, seeing a large scar where his heart stood. It was large and ugly but looked to had already healed a long time ago. How did I get this scar? This already looks a few years old.

Eiden walked to the mirror, looking at his back. A chained heart with roots above and below it stood on the other side of his heart. It was made of the same stuff as his other soul Marks—an inky substance that looked deep and rich. How did these things manifest? I can barely make a dagger out of aura, and yet I have these beautifully drawn sailor's marks on my skin. Did I make them, or was it my soul? Or, are we one and the same?

Eiden put on his large coat, comfortable but a little too big for his current frame—probably so he could grow into it. His body was skinny, and his cheeks sunk, but… when he looked at the mirror, he had changed. His nose was a little less crooked, and his face more symmetrical, making his overall appearance better. How much more would he change because of the awakening, Eiden could not guess, but he would welcome it. Perhaps, the void that he felt in his being would go away with the wind, be burned by flames, or frozen by the chill. Life just happens, maybe I’ll be better someday, but for now, it’s just one foot over the other. The step forward is mine to take.

Eiden and Fin broke their fast at the inn and headed back to their secluded piece of the cliff. Along the way, and before while eating, Eiden had to hide his newly-clawed digits. They looked leathery like the skin of a bat's wings, shimmering when light struck the almost imperceptible scales. His nails looked like soot-covered iron, ending in tips that seemingly rend flesh just as easily as Eiden could breathe.

The cold afternoon air felt like ice daggers on Eiden’s skin, the waking sun providing little comfort. Eiden and Fin sat cross-legged in front of one another.

“Today,” said Fin, “I’ll teach you calming techniques. I observed in your aura that your power changes and fluctuates along with your emotions. Though this happens to be quite common, the degree to which your power increases along with your mental state is extraordinary. You’ve already demonstrated an aptitude for controlling your own mental state, so today, we shall hone it.

“All mages have roughly the same amount of potential power. Your difference lies in that the limits in place that stop you from using too much are malleable.

"You ready?"

“Not quite.” Said Eiden, “I understand half of what you said. Can you explain it again in simpler words? What's this 'latent' power?”

Fin took some time to think before answering.

“Both the corporeal and ethereal bodies can draw on latent power from within.” Said Fin. “Your muscles, for example, have much more strength than you would think. That strength is locked away because it could break your bones from the pressure and pull. Your muscles would simply tear themselves away if they used all their strength.

“The ethereal body is the same. It has extraordinary latent power, but cannot safely access it without backlash or consequence.”

“That’s better. It makes more sense now.” Said Eiden.

“Aye.” Said Fin. “Let’s start the techniques for controlling your mental state. Breathe in deeply. Inhaling can be fast at the start. You should focus on exhaling as slowly as possible.”

Eiden did the breathing exercises, feeling himself falling into a meditative state. It was like the wind could just carry him away, everything fading out into the background.

“Good.” Said Fin. “Now, exert pressure on your abdomen like you’re trying to store air in your belly. Good, take a few heartbeats in between inhaling and exhaling to apply pressure.”

Eiden’s heart slowed considerably, the beats being longer between one another. The thump in his chest made Eiden sleepy, lulling him into almost falling asleep.

“Good. When in battle, you shouldn’t apply the pressure—it’ll distract you too much. Only focus on the breathing parts.

“Now, we’ll add in the mental exercises. Imagine the calmest place you can be in. Somewhere no-one can enter or defile.”

Eiden couldn’t picture a place that hadn’t had any scars upon it. His once home had been painted red, the memories plunging the dagger of grief deeper in his chest. The current location that had once been a calm place of contemplation, now turned into somewhere he lost control, falling into the depths of hopelessness and all-consuming rage.

Eiden’s heart thumped, a steady beat like a hammer on steel. His heart had been reforged in the flames of his anger and quenched in the ice water of his despair. Perhaps, nowhere was left untainted. Nothing could stay whole, and some scars would never fade. No matter how much it would hurt less for them to disappear, Eiden would not let go. The scars, the scorching pain of the memories, and the feeling of not belonging would never be forsaken. They were his only mementos that could not be taken away. His home was pain, and his fate was to suffer. But, not die. He would rather carry all the burden than to forget he once had a brother and a friend. And someone he loved.

Eiden entered the black of his mind. The waters under his feet were not cold nor hot—their temperature was as ambiguous as their opaque depths. His mental form had changed drastically from before. His flesh was transparent and frozen over by hoarfrost. Eiden’s skin was cracked like stone, and yet he felt no pain. His veins were made of steel, a deep red light surging through them like scarlet lightning. His Center and ethereal heart were encased in steel.

Eiden put his attention towards the steel heart that pulsed at his center. Steady as a blacksmith’s hammer, it thumped with the might of stone. I must protect this at all costs. This is not power, but the overseer of it. If I fall into rage or despair, people will get hurt. I can’t let that happen. I’ll burn the things that crawl in the night to cinders so that others will not suffer what I have…

Though, honestly, I just want to burn them to ash because of the anger, the suffocating and mind-consuming rage. I want to fall into the depths of apathy because this all hurts so much. And yet everything feels numb and devoid of feeling. I just want this to all end.

Eiden pulled himself away from the depths of his mind, opening his eyes to sunlight.

The sun bled red on the purple sea, melting on the horizon. The black and white twins hung in the dredges of the vanishing blue sky. The colors mesmerized Eiden, sending a pulse of color through his soul-marks. All felt calm and in place, the young man’s emotions settling like dust at the bottom of the ocean. Forgotten until unearthed.

One step forward. Perhaps to safer grounds or into the vortex. The precipice always under my feet.