The door opened without sound. That was the first thing Lucid noticed. Doors were supposed to creak. Announce. Give warning. This one just opened like it had been waiting for him specifically and was pleased he had finally arrived.
The interior smelled like herbs and something else. Something clean in a way that felt almost aggressive. Like cleanliness had been weaponized and deployed against dust.
A figure sat behind a low desk carved from dark wood. Young. Sharp features. Simple robes that somehow managed to look both casual and formal at the same time. He looked up from papers covered in script Lucid could not read.
"Ah," the man said. His voice was melodic. Measured. Each word chosen with the care usually reserved for picking weapons. "A newcomer. Welcome."
He gestured to a cushion across from his desk. "Please. Sit. Rest your weary bones and let us share tea as civilized beings ought."
Lucid sat. The cushion was more comfortable than it had any right to be.
The man produced a teapot from somewhere. Poured liquid into two small cups with movements that suggested this was ritual rather than simple hospitality. The tea was green. Vibrant. It steamed, it was different from the green herbal tea he used to have.
"A remedy from my homeland," the man said, sliding one cup across the desk. "It clears the throat and settles the spirit. Both of which tend to become tangled in a city such as this."
Lucid lifted the cup. Sipped. The taste was sharp. Clean. Like drinking distilled spring water that had a deep rich taste of a plant.
'Oh. This is actually good. This is genuinely good!'
"Nice," Lucid said.
The man smiled. Small. Genuine. "I am pleased it meets with your approval."
He leaned forward. Elbows on desk. Fingers steepled. His eyes studied Lucid with the intensity of someone cataloging a particularly interesting specimen.
"The mist that shrouds your countenance," he said. Not a question. An observation waiting for explanation. "It is most unusual."
'Oh no. Here we go. Everyone always asks about the mist!'
Lucid scrambled for an excuse. His mind, usually so good at producing lies, came up completely empty. Blank. Nothing!
"I was born like this," he said finally.
The man's eyebrows rose slightly. "Born with mist obscuring your face? How fascinating."
He reached across the desk. His hand moved slowly. Deliberately. Giving Lucid time to pull back if he wanted.
Lucid did not pull back.
Fingers touched the mist. Passed through it slightly. The sensation was odd. Not unpleasant. Just wrong in ways Lucid could not articulate.
The man withdrew his hand. Studied his fingers like they might have changed from the contact.
"Most intriguing," he murmured. "You can still see the outline of your face. Your chin. Close enough, one can perceive your eyes. But it is subtle. Deliberate. As if something wishes you seen but not truly known."
He settled back into his seat. "Where do you travel from?"
"Vex."
The man's eyes flicked down to Lucid's wrist. To the orange band glowing faintly beneath his sleeve. The Mark of the Transcendence.
"I see." His tone shifted. Not unfriendly. Just more careful. "You are sponsored by Her Highness then."
"Unfortunately."
A smile tugged at the man's lips. "Indeed. Sponsorship by royalty is a burden as much as blessing. They provide resources while simultaneously claiming ownership of your very purpose."
He gestured vaguely at the room around them. "But we digress. What brings you to my humble practice?"
Lucid took another sip of tea. Buying time. Trying to figure out how to say this without sounding insane.
"I wanted a mental check up," he said finally.
The man nodded slowly. "Ah. The mind. Most neglected of all organs despite being arguably the most vital. Very well. That will be fifty silver."
Lucid jumped. Actually jumped. The tea nearly spilled.
"Fifty silver!"
"My expertise commands appropriate compensation."
'I do not have fifty silver! I do not even have five silver! I have a useless ring.'
Lucid reached into his pocket. Pulled out the ring. Held it up with what he hoped looked like confidence.
"Could a ring interest you perhaps?"
The man looked at the ring. Then at Lucid. Back to the ring. His expression did not change but something flickered in his eyes. Amusement maybe. Or pity.
"No."
'Shit!'
The man leaned back in his seat. Steepled his fingers again. When he spoke, his voice took on a quality that suggested lecture was incoming.
"Ah. Price. Funds. Money. Trade. That is what turns the economy around, is it not? Without it, labor ceases to function. Without proper compensation, craftsmen will not produce merchandise. Farmers will not cultivate crops. The fruits of labor require exchange, lest they rot on the vine."
He paused. Let the words settle.
"But what happens when labor itself becomes commodity? When it is bought, sold, then monopolized by corporations, governments, wealthy individuals? The worker produces. The merchant profits. The worker starves. A cycle as old as civilization and twice as tragic."
'Is he lecturing me? Is he actually lecturing me for walking into his office with no money or prescription? Oh god he is!'
The man studied Lucid. Really studied him. His eyes changed. Became luminescent. Glowing faintly with energy that Lucid recognized as fate essence but refined somehow. Could he be an illuminated?
Lucid felt cold. Like being pried open. Like someone had reached inside and was examining his internal architecture without permission. It was invasive. Uncomfortable. He wanted to leave but could not make himself move!
"Most intriguing," the man said softly. His eyes returned to normal. The luminescence faded. "You are hollow."
"Hollow?" Lucid repeated.
"Yes. Empty in ways that should not be possible for a living being. As if something fundamental has been removed or never existed in the first place." He tilted his head. "A good thing, I think. Makes you resistant to certain influences. Certain corruptions."
He stood abruptly. Moved around the desk with fluid grace.
"How about this. Be my research subject. I wish to carry out trials. Study this hollowness. Understand it. In return, I can give you free check ups. Free consultations. Free treatment should you require it."
"Research subject," Lucid said slowly. "What kind of research?"
"Nothing invasive! Nothing permanent! Simply observation. Measurement. Perhaps some minor testing of your responses to various stimuli." He smiled. "You are particular. Unique even. I would be a fool to let such an opportunity walk out my door simply because you cannot afford my standard fees."
'This sounds dangerous. This sounds like exactly the kind of thing I should say no to...'
"Alright," Lucid said.
The man's smile widened. "Excellent! Step into the other room. I have instruments that will perform a full body evaluation. After that, I fear it may take some time to process all the information. Come by tomorrow or the day after if you have time."
He led Lucid through a doorway into a room that was less room and more shrine to geometric precision. Stone carved with patterns in curved minimalistic shape. In the center, suspended in air, a sphere of what looked like crystallized energy rotated slowly.
"Stand here," the man said, gesturing to a spot in front of the sphere. "Close your eyes. Remain still. The instrument will do the rest."
Lucid did as instructed. Closed his eyes. Felt something wash over him. Like being scanned by light that could see through skin and bone and whatever else made up a person.
A holographic plane materialized. Moved across his body in slow passes. Recording. Analyzing. Cataloging everything it found.
"Everything alright?" Lucid asked. His voice sounded distant to his own ears.
"Perfectly fine. Just a few moments more."
The sensation continued. Then stopped. The presence withdrew like tide pulling back from shore.
Lucid opened his eyes.
Jing Xiu watched the readings. His expression did not change.
The rod traced down Lucid's arms. Across his ribs. Up the side of his neck. The blue light flickered once, twice, settled into steady pulse.
Lucid waited.
Jing Xiu set the device down. He picked up a piece of paper and began writing. The scratching of the pen filled the room.
"So," Lucid said. "How is it?"
Jing Xiu did not look up. "You are dying."
The words landed flat. Final. Like a stone dropped into still water.
"It is as if your body is a thin rope stretched across a gap that keeps getting wider. Your bone marrow is weak. Your blood is a different colour than it should be. Your heart beats irregularly. Sometimes too fast. Sometimes too slow. Sometimes it pauses in a way that should not be possible for someone still standing."
Jing Xiu continued writing. Lucid stared at the wall behind him. His vision blurred at the edges. A sound filled his ears, high and constant, like a bell ringing somewhere far away.
'I cannot hear him.'
The thought surfaced through the noise. He watched Jing Xiu's mouth move. Saw words forming. Did not catch them.
'Since I was born, I knew that nothing in life comes for free.'
His hands rested on his knees. They looked like his hands. Felt like his hands. They were shaking slightly. He did not remember when that had started.
'If this power comes at the cost of taking my life in the process, what good is my path toward vengeance?'
He blinked. The room came back into focus. The ringing faded.
'But even so, it is a path that I chose and continued down. I cannot simply abandon it.'
The holographic plane materialized again. Moved across his body in slow passes. Recording. Analyzing. Cataloging everything it found.
"Everything alright?" Jing Xiu asked. His voice sounded distant to his own ears.
"Fine."
"Good, Just a few moments more minutes."
The sensation continued. Then stopped. The presence withdrew like tide pulling back from shore.
Lucid opened his eyes.
Jing Xiu was making notes on paper. His expression was focused. Intent. Whatever the instrument had shown him was clearly interesting.
"I can give you remedies and prescriptions," Jing Xiu said. "But I am not like the other medics. I will not tell you that there is hope when there is none. Your body can crumple at any minute. You could collapse walking down the street. You could collapse sitting in that chair. There is no way to know."
He set down his pen.
"So I will tell you this. Go and spend time with your family. Go and do the things you love. Walk through the city and watch the sun set. Eat food that tastes good. Sit in silence and remember what it felt like to not be afraid."
He looked up. His eyes were steady.
"And when you are satisfied, come back. We can start treatment."
Lucid stared at him. "Treatment for what? You just said it was hopeless."
"I said your body can crumple at any minute. I did not say it would. There is a difference between a diagnosis and a death sentence. The first tells you where you are. The second tells you where you are going." Jing Xiu waved his hand toward the door. "Go. Breathe. Remember why you are still standing."
Lucid stood. His legs held. That was something.
He walked to the door. His hand touched the frame. He stopped.
"You never told me your name."
The man smiled.
"Lucid."
"Lucid. A name that suggests clarity despite the mist that surrounds you. How delightfully contradictory."
Lucid stepped out into the street. The door closed behind him with the same soundless efficiency it had opened.
He stood there for a moment.
'My life is a series of increasingly strange decisions that somehow keep working out.'
The sun had begun its descent. Orange light painted Port Vexis in colors that almost made it look beautiful. Almost.