City of Heroes - His Mind, His Prison - part 1
She had barely given two steps inside the bathroom, when she felt a wave of nausea hit her so strongly she collapsed into the floor. She retched and heaved, but thankfully, nothing came out, due to the fact she hadn't eaten anything since breakfast.
Acid tears burnt in her eyes as she let herself fall back onto the hard floor: she had done the unthinkable - she had executed Gilgul with hardly any preparation, in two minutes tops. She didn't think it had ever been done or attempted, and she wasn't sure what would be the reaction of the Order if they got wind of her actions.
Now, she had to pay the price for what she had done. Nobody, not even the most powerful of the Archmages, not even Merlin, not even the Raven King himself could perform the soul-severing part of the Gilgul ritual in two minutes. She had needed more time -- and she had imposed her will on the time flow and minutes had became hours -- giving her just the needed time to make it work. But while it was easy to make forces do what they were intend to - fire was meant to burn, wounds were made to heal - time did not appreciate being made to wait. It was against its nature, and now Camila paid the price. She cursed her teammates for not calling her sooner, but her thoughts were cut short as another wave of nausea hit her. She barely had time to grasp the toilet bowl, and all thought vanished.
***
It was hard to breathe, and Camila was fairly sure she had passed out for some time. She stared at the ceiling, trying to gauge what were the odds of her managing to get up without losing verticality. At the moment, they didn't seem too great, so she closed her eyes and enjoyed the quiet. She seldom used her appartment in Croatoa nowadays, having found her niche among the Dogs, but she did not want to go there as her magic turned against her -- she didn't want them to see her weakness, or endanger them.
Gilgul.
She never expected to be called to perform it. More, she never expected to actually do it to save someone. The Gilgul ritual was the ultimate punishment her Order saved for the worst traitors, the most cruel of beasts among them, and only the Sword of the Council were taught how to perform it. And for that, they were hated and loathed and feared. The ritual by which a mage's soul, their source of power, was severed from their body and destroyed, removing it from the cycle of reincarnation for millenia, possibly for ever. Then the mage's body, little more than a husk of flesh, would be slain -- absolute death.
It was amazing: something of destruction had been used as a means of salvation -- necessity was indeed the mother of invention.
***
Slowly, she sat up. Her head still felt as if it was swimming, but she figured she would manage to have a quick shower and then crawl to bed. It was then her gaze fell on her hands: her left hand was now a gnarled, old thing, claw-like, little more than skin stretched over bones, the hand of a corpse -- Time had taken its toll on her, like she had on It.
Camila screamed.
And screamed.
And screamed.
***
"Breathe." she ordered herself. "Breathe!" Each breath tasted of blood and panic, and she had to use all of her will not to keep screaming until her throat was raw. She needed to focus. She could heal it. She could. She could make her magic race into her body and heal -- she used a mix of control over time and her own body to heal and rejuvenate her cells -- that's how she healed almost instantly from bullet wounds that would kill any normal human instantly. She could rejuvenate her arm again. She just needed to focus.
Focus.
She took a deep breath and infused her arm with as much Essence as she could, spending completely the vast amounts of energy she kept stored in her Chi like a battery for later use and in case she needed a quick fix in the middle of a fight. Her personal time was still unstable, and doing it sent a lance of pain through her, but when she uncurled from the fetal position she nearly wept in relief as she saw that the corpse-like claw had gained some flesh -- it still looked like the hand of an old woman, with thin, liver-spotted skin and wiry veins, but it had improved if only marginally. It would take her months, years even, to undo the damage of that afternoon, but she could do it.
***
Skorpio eyed the frail hand that rested in hers quizzically, but asked no questions. Camila didn't want to give answers, so they both remained silent, the circle closed around the little body of water, hand in hand, the three, Maiden, Mother, Crone, and they stared at Euryale: until then Camila had been the one calling all gatherings, because she needed their power, but this time, the call had come from the Immortal.
She looked angry, but a scary type of angry, a cold fury that was unexpected. "Someone is tampering with fate, with clumsy, uncaring fingers."
"Do you think it's connected to Equilibrian?"
The Crone nodded slowly, a rictus of disgust revealing perfect white teeth, contrasting against her tanned skin. "This cannot be. And we _will_ put a stop to this." The mage opened her mouth to protest, but the older woman silenced with a glare "You have called on the power of the Three for your own purposes many times, Magus. It is high time you assist the Three." she said severely, making Camila immediately fall silent.
"It is time we learn who is behind these fools who are playing with Fate so carelessly. Someone of no little power is teaching and leading them, using their shadows to conceal himself."
"So, you think it's a man?" Emma asked.
Euryale nodded again, disdain turning her lovely face ugly. "Only a man would twist Fate in such a callous, surgical, cold way. A woman accomplishing the same would work the strands in far more carefully. No, this stinks of male magic. Now focus... and See the truth."
The three gazed into the pool of water at the same time, and instead of answers, they found only nebulous questions. Something was working against them. Outraged, Camila fought against the mist, and the shock she received nearly made her break contact. But years of practice enduring magical assaults strengthned her will and she forced herself to keep looking, lashing with all she had against the mists that concealed their enemy. There was a clash of magic, like two great waves crashing against each other. Both sides felt the backlash and a blinding light filled the cave. Their will was to see the truth, and the truth they saw for a moment, not only of their enemy but of themselves, as the three women reverted to their true forms.
Camila hastily looked away as she saw the old, gnarled woman that was Euryale, impossibly old, long black claws in her hands and greasy braids of dark hair that resembled snakes -- for a moment, she wondered if she had seen them flicker or if it had been a trick of light. She did not dare to stare in her eyes.
She did not need to look down at herself to know what the others were seeing, the true form of Camila, hidden under the most powerful of ancient magic - the hundreds of runes of power tattooed in every inch of her skin, the pain and the blood she had endured and lost to increase her own magical potency -- the sacrifice she had made for power -- usually kept concealed by illusions woven by the runes and symbols themselves.
But as her eyes fell on Skorpio, the woman who knew no magic, who had no brushings with the supernatural, who was the most normal of the three, Camila learned of the truth, of why they were so powerful together: an impossibly beautiful face, the high cheekbones more pronounced, the ears forming an elegant point, the features that made her attractive now so enhanced that they were terrifying.
Skorpio was Fae-blooded.
It was likely she didn't know herself, but Camila had crossed paths enough times with the Old Ones while in Croatoa to know what she was seeing. They were perfect to each other: Maiden, Mother, Crone. One human, one half human, and the fully inhuman. One who had acquired her magic by will and study, the other a being whose magic flowed naturally in her veins, and the last one true magic given form. Any other woman could sit in Skorpio's place as mother, but Camila now knew that no matter how powerful, no matter how trained in the arts of magic, she would not fit the Three so perfectly.
Then, without warning and for a moment, the Three gazed upon Him. And He gazed upon the Three, both sides facing each other clearly. And then it was gone and the light faded completely, sinking them in darkness.
"Genoseid." Skorpio murmured.
Nobody asked how she knew, for they knew them too, in their heart, a truth as unmovable as the pillars of Heaven themselves.
"Be careful, Camila." the Greek woman was back to her young, perfect form. "This is a crafty enemy and you must be always on your guard."
"What?" the British girl exclaimed, rebelling "What do I have to do with this?"
"Silly girl." Euryale snorted "You've been so focused grieving over your magical scar that you haven't noticed you attracted Fate's attention with your meddling."
Camila blinked, and looked puzzled, and Euryale made a sound of impatience: "Look." she tugged at the air and a faint line of Fate shimmered into sight: Camila knew it well for she had watched it often in these last few days - it was Equilibrian's. "Now look at your own Fate -- it entangles with it. For better or worse, his Fate and yours now are united for a while."
There was a slow smile from the Greek: "Seems the Fates have chosen who they want from the Three as their agent in this."
For the first time in her life, Camila wished she didn't believe in Fate.
***
"Hey, Equilibrian..." a hesitation "I'm Camila, we met at D, remember? I know this is really sudden, but... I really need to talk to you, okay? Call this number, please. Thanks. Huh... talk to you later..."
Silence.
Acid tears burnt in her eyes as she let herself fall back onto the hard floor: she had done the unthinkable - she had executed Gilgul with hardly any preparation, in two minutes tops. She didn't think it had ever been done or attempted, and she wasn't sure what would be the reaction of the Order if they got wind of her actions.
Now, she had to pay the price for what she had done. Nobody, not even the most powerful of the Archmages, not even Merlin, not even the Raven King himself could perform the soul-severing part of the Gilgul ritual in two minutes. She had needed more time -- and she had imposed her will on the time flow and minutes had became hours -- giving her just the needed time to make it work. But while it was easy to make forces do what they were intend to - fire was meant to burn, wounds were made to heal - time did not appreciate being made to wait. It was against its nature, and now Camila paid the price. She cursed her teammates for not calling her sooner, but her thoughts were cut short as another wave of nausea hit her. She barely had time to grasp the toilet bowl, and all thought vanished.
***
It was hard to breathe, and Camila was fairly sure she had passed out for some time. She stared at the ceiling, trying to gauge what were the odds of her managing to get up without losing verticality. At the moment, they didn't seem too great, so she closed her eyes and enjoyed the quiet. She seldom used her appartment in Croatoa nowadays, having found her niche among the Dogs, but she did not want to go there as her magic turned against her -- she didn't want them to see her weakness, or endanger them.
Gilgul.
She never expected to be called to perform it. More, she never expected to actually do it to save someone. The Gilgul ritual was the ultimate punishment her Order saved for the worst traitors, the most cruel of beasts among them, and only the Sword of the Council were taught how to perform it. And for that, they were hated and loathed and feared. The ritual by which a mage's soul, their source of power, was severed from their body and destroyed, removing it from the cycle of reincarnation for millenia, possibly for ever. Then the mage's body, little more than a husk of flesh, would be slain -- absolute death.
It was amazing: something of destruction had been used as a means of salvation -- necessity was indeed the mother of invention.
***
Slowly, she sat up. Her head still felt as if it was swimming, but she figured she would manage to have a quick shower and then crawl to bed. It was then her gaze fell on her hands: her left hand was now a gnarled, old thing, claw-like, little more than skin stretched over bones, the hand of a corpse -- Time had taken its toll on her, like she had on It.
Camila screamed.
And screamed.
And screamed.
***
"Breathe." she ordered herself. "Breathe!" Each breath tasted of blood and panic, and she had to use all of her will not to keep screaming until her throat was raw. She needed to focus. She could heal it. She could. She could make her magic race into her body and heal -- she used a mix of control over time and her own body to heal and rejuvenate her cells -- that's how she healed almost instantly from bullet wounds that would kill any normal human instantly. She could rejuvenate her arm again. She just needed to focus.
Focus.
She took a deep breath and infused her arm with as much Essence as she could, spending completely the vast amounts of energy she kept stored in her Chi like a battery for later use and in case she needed a quick fix in the middle of a fight. Her personal time was still unstable, and doing it sent a lance of pain through her, but when she uncurled from the fetal position she nearly wept in relief as she saw that the corpse-like claw had gained some flesh -- it still looked like the hand of an old woman, with thin, liver-spotted skin and wiry veins, but it had improved if only marginally. It would take her months, years even, to undo the damage of that afternoon, but she could do it.
***
Skorpio eyed the frail hand that rested in hers quizzically, but asked no questions. Camila didn't want to give answers, so they both remained silent, the circle closed around the little body of water, hand in hand, the three, Maiden, Mother, Crone, and they stared at Euryale: until then Camila had been the one calling all gatherings, because she needed their power, but this time, the call had come from the Immortal.
She looked angry, but a scary type of angry, a cold fury that was unexpected. "Someone is tampering with fate, with clumsy, uncaring fingers."
"Do you think it's connected to Equilibrian?"
The Crone nodded slowly, a rictus of disgust revealing perfect white teeth, contrasting against her tanned skin. "This cannot be. And we _will_ put a stop to this." The mage opened her mouth to protest, but the older woman silenced with a glare "You have called on the power of the Three for your own purposes many times, Magus. It is high time you assist the Three." she said severely, making Camila immediately fall silent.
"It is time we learn who is behind these fools who are playing with Fate so carelessly. Someone of no little power is teaching and leading them, using their shadows to conceal himself."
"So, you think it's a man?" Emma asked.
Euryale nodded again, disdain turning her lovely face ugly. "Only a man would twist Fate in such a callous, surgical, cold way. A woman accomplishing the same would work the strands in far more carefully. No, this stinks of male magic. Now focus... and See the truth."
The three gazed into the pool of water at the same time, and instead of answers, they found only nebulous questions. Something was working against them. Outraged, Camila fought against the mist, and the shock she received nearly made her break contact. But years of practice enduring magical assaults strengthned her will and she forced herself to keep looking, lashing with all she had against the mists that concealed their enemy. There was a clash of magic, like two great waves crashing against each other. Both sides felt the backlash and a blinding light filled the cave. Their will was to see the truth, and the truth they saw for a moment, not only of their enemy but of themselves, as the three women reverted to their true forms.
Camila hastily looked away as she saw the old, gnarled woman that was Euryale, impossibly old, long black claws in her hands and greasy braids of dark hair that resembled snakes -- for a moment, she wondered if she had seen them flicker or if it had been a trick of light. She did not dare to stare in her eyes.
She did not need to look down at herself to know what the others were seeing, the true form of Camila, hidden under the most powerful of ancient magic - the hundreds of runes of power tattooed in every inch of her skin, the pain and the blood she had endured and lost to increase her own magical potency -- the sacrifice she had made for power -- usually kept concealed by illusions woven by the runes and symbols themselves.
But as her eyes fell on Skorpio, the woman who knew no magic, who had no brushings with the supernatural, who was the most normal of the three, Camila learned of the truth, of why they were so powerful together: an impossibly beautiful face, the high cheekbones more pronounced, the ears forming an elegant point, the features that made her attractive now so enhanced that they were terrifying.
Skorpio was Fae-blooded.
It was likely she didn't know herself, but Camila had crossed paths enough times with the Old Ones while in Croatoa to know what she was seeing. They were perfect to each other: Maiden, Mother, Crone. One human, one half human, and the fully inhuman. One who had acquired her magic by will and study, the other a being whose magic flowed naturally in her veins, and the last one true magic given form. Any other woman could sit in Skorpio's place as mother, but Camila now knew that no matter how powerful, no matter how trained in the arts of magic, she would not fit the Three so perfectly.
Then, without warning and for a moment, the Three gazed upon Him. And He gazed upon the Three, both sides facing each other clearly. And then it was gone and the light faded completely, sinking them in darkness.
"Genoseid." Skorpio murmured.
Nobody asked how she knew, for they knew them too, in their heart, a truth as unmovable as the pillars of Heaven themselves.
"Be careful, Camila." the Greek woman was back to her young, perfect form. "This is a crafty enemy and you must be always on your guard."
"What?" the British girl exclaimed, rebelling "What do I have to do with this?"
"Silly girl." Euryale snorted "You've been so focused grieving over your magical scar that you haven't noticed you attracted Fate's attention with your meddling."
Camila blinked, and looked puzzled, and Euryale made a sound of impatience: "Look." she tugged at the air and a faint line of Fate shimmered into sight: Camila knew it well for she had watched it often in these last few days - it was Equilibrian's. "Now look at your own Fate -- it entangles with it. For better or worse, his Fate and yours now are united for a while."
There was a slow smile from the Greek: "Seems the Fates have chosen who they want from the Three as their agent in this."
For the first time in her life, Camila wished she didn't believe in Fate.
***
"Hey, Equilibrian..." a hesitation "I'm Camila, we met at D, remember? I know this is really sudden, but... I really need to talk to you, okay? Call this number, please. Thanks. Huh... talk to you later..."
Silence.