"Ink," Amos said once the two were well and truly beyond the tree line.
"Mm?"
"What exactly do you mean when you tell people that you were 'created' by your master?"
Ink stopped walking.
"Sorry," Amos said immediately, "you don't have to answer. I'm just... curious."
Ink resumed walking. They trekked in silence for a short while before Ink sighed and found a smooth rock to sit on.
"My master was mean. He hurt me and ignored me, but he was strong. He wanted to be stronger, so he made me to help him. I was created from Alchemy."
Ink's tattoos swirled lazily around his skin. He looked down at them with an unreadable expression.
"These marks were drawn on me to make me stronger. I found out the way I was supposed to help my master was by dying. He wanted to take over my body."
Sound like anyone?
Shush. This is Ink's moment.
"That's why they call me the Vessel. They don't see me as a person. They never gave me a soul, but I still want to live. I loved working with you on the farm, Amos. I'm really going to miss it."
Amos sat in the silence for a while, wallowing.
"I'm sorry your master sucks, Ink," he said. "We're friends now, so you can stick with me."
"He'll come looking for me," Ink said.
"Let him," Amos' eyes filled with fire. "We already showed his goons what for."
"Darian?" Ink laughed. "Darian is a Putresco. In the Trenmir, that means he is the weakest. Except for the civilians."
And he still would have beaten me if Ink hadn't helped...
I need to get stronger!
"I'm going to be the strongest Drai there ever was," Amos said. "The Drai of Mauria has two souls, after all."
Ink smiled. He looked down at his hands. "I'm tired," he said.
"One last question," Amos said, "I saw Darian in the Infinite Lake with a man with red eyes. Do you know anything about that?"
"No," Ink shook his head emphatically. "If I enter Soul Space, my master will know. He will find me easier. But that was probably him, with Darian I mean. He's the only man I've ever seen with red eyes. Maybe he's planning something with Darian."
Amos shrugged. "So... Port Ryndem."
"Sleep first," Ink pleaded.
"Wait," Amos' heart dropped.
"What?"
"Do you know how to get to Port Ryndem?"
"No..."
"Neither do I."
Fucking idiots.
Do you know?
No, I've never been off the farm. I'm just a slack-jawed farm boy who can't read, don't you know?
Slack-jawed is right.
"Don't be mean to yourself, Aquila," Ink said. "You have to be nice."
Whatever...
"We can't ask Yakob where to go. It might ruin his plans..." Amos chewed on his lip for a moment. His jaw throbbed dully, and his wrists were unnaturally cold where he had been restrained by Darian's rotting summon.
It took him longer to remember, but eventually, he exclaimed: "There's a map in Kien and Leila's room!"
"Do we have to go back?" Ink asked.
"I'll go by myself," Amos said, "I can be sneakier than you. I know my way around."
Ink mulled it over. "Don't get hurt," he said by way of decision. Then, without a further farewell, he lay down on the smooth stone and began snoring straight away. Amos couldn't help but chuckle.
He walked away from their spot among the blackened forest trees. The charred stumps and twiggy branches scratched at the night sky - black on blackness. This would be the last time he went home for a long, long time.
If we see Darian...
I'm not killing him.
What changed? Thought he was a dead man walking...
I was thinking about what Ink said. How everyone deserves a chance at life.
He stabbed Dad...
I know, to get me. So if I stay away, they'll be safe.
But you're going back.
Amos nodded to himself. No helping it.
Yakob needs him alive anyway. I don't want to make the Trenmir suspicious of him.
Makes sense that crazy bastard is Drai. He was never right in the head.
Amos cast his mind back to when Leila had asked him to clean the house. He examined the layout of the house in his mind's eye, turning it and looking for a hidden entrance, in case Yakob and Darian hadn't left to search for them just yet.
Amos slunk through the darkness to the best of his ability. At one point, an owl began to hoot, causing him to jump out of his boots.
When he arrived back at the farmhouse, he found it encircled by a line of torches placed equidistantly. Outside the ring of fire, in the darkness, Amos was hidden. Upon entering it, his form would be shown clearly to anyone keeping watch.
He crept around the edges of the light, circling the house. As he did so, he felt an inexplicable pull towards the naked flames of the torches, some kind of magnetism of the spirit.
<
The whispers of Amos' celestial patron repeated the word in overlapping tones - all deep and booming voices. They wanted him to get close, to reach out, touch it, use it, burn it all down. Kill.
<
Amos grabbed his head and shook the thoughts away.
The outside of the house was clear. No one to be seen. The windows were all shuttered and the house was quiet as ever, but going through the front door was most definitely not an option.
Amos stopped perpendicular to what he knew to be the window of Kien and Leila's room. The map was in there. It would be easy to grab and go.
They'll be in there too.
What do I do?
Would've been easier if Darian was dead.
You're no help.
But Amos knew Aquila was right. He felt a pang of annoyance at having to go through all this trouble on account of his conscience. It sat in his stomach, right beside the simmering hatred he had to push down so he didn't give in to Aquila's murderous badgering.
Amos held his hand out to the torch closest to him. Fire was the first thing he experimented with. The element of an Aries Drai. Darian thought he was Cancer. The benefits of transmigration were becoming clear to Amos, now: Deceit. He decided then that no one (save Ink) would be privy to his twin-souled nature. It was his only advantage in this unfamiliar world.
He pulled on the last of his mana. His well of power had been reduced to meagre droplets, or the last sip of a deserted man's water. He did not know yet how to replenish it, or how much he could use.
Still, it responded to him as before. It flowed from his core, through his arteries, into his arm, then coalescing into his splayed fingertips. Invisibly, it exited his body and made its effect on the world.
The steady fire in the torches around Amos flickered and winked out. Amos felt a searing heat in his palm as it transferred to him. His skin immediately began to blister, the flesh crisping rapidly.
With barely a hiss, Amos' final reserves of power extinguished the flame and he dropped his hand. It throbbed in pain. The skin was already ulcerating. Aries' power was strong, but Amos had to be careful. If not, he would end up as charcoal.
In the new dark, Amos scuttled up to the wall and pulled open Kien and Leila's window. It was unlatched, and came open easily. He scrambled over the sill without a second thought and fell into the room, desperate to get out of the open.
Amos landed with a thud. It took some time for his eyes to adjust, even to the low light of candles inside. As they did so, the forms of Kien lying on the bed and Leila sitting beside him made themselves clear.
"Mum?" Yakob's voice called from the upstairs, "Dad? You okay? What was that noise?"
Amos crouched like a tiger. He was stiff and tense, ready to run at the slightest indication of danger.
Kien spluttered. He was shirtless. Blood soaked a filthy bandage wrapped around his side. It was all they could afford.
Leila ripped her gaze from her husband to shoot daggers at Amos. "You did this," she said in a husky whisper. "It's your fault."
Amos felt his heart break. He never meant for them to get hurt. He wanted to protect them.
"Drai," Leila spat. "The Putresco is just outside."
Amos stiffened even further at the mention of Darian. He needed to be quick.
"I'm sorry," he said, standing, "for what it's worth. I just wanted to be a good person."
"You're sick, Amos," Kien said hoarsely. "Stay. Let the Putresco help us."
"I can't," Amos shook his head. He stepped lightly over to the desk and opened the drawer.
"We still love you," Kien said. "You're still our son."
The map was there, rolled up. Just beside it was a small whittling knife - Kien's old one.
He made me toys with that.
Amos took it. It was light, tiny. More handle than blade. It really wouldn't be much help, but he felt better striking it alone with something sharp in his hands.
"Stay, goose," Leila said, suddenly calming. "Yakob will take care of you."
Amos turned to look at Kien and Leila. Map in one hand, blade in the other. He searched their pleading faces.
They weren't lying.
They really thought handing him over to the Trenmir was for the best. They thought killing their son was a mercy. It was him or Yakob, and they chose. Little did they know Yakob would only end up disappointing them much the same.
Their prejudice towards the Drai triumphed over love for their son. Or corrupted it.
We need to go. Tell them you love them. For me.
"I love you," Amos said. "Mum. Dad. I won't be back. Tell Yakob I love him too."
"No!" Leila exclaimed. "The Emperor will save your soul if you make this right now. The Putresco said so!"
"Mum?" Yakob called again from above.
Amos felt tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. He tucked the map and knife into his pocket, then left the way he came. He leaped through the window, shouldering the shutters open. They banged against the external walls.
"Putresco!" Leila called as he ran. "Putresco!"
The night enveloped Amos. He would have been free and clear, except for one simple fact.
Darian was out here, investigating the torches.
Shit.
Kill him.
<
Amos just shook his head and ran. He didn't have any mana left anyway. Darian gave chase.
They dodged under branches and hopped over furrowed fields. Darian's grisly smile never falling too far. Amos' legs burned, his heart pounded, his lungs were tight. They broke into the forest proper. Branches scratched at Amos' face. Lines of blood and welts rose from beneath his skin.
Behind him, Darian began calling commands. A ghoul materialised from thin air in front of Amos. It reached out to grab him, but Amos was prepared. He had seen this trick before. He dug his foot into the soft soil and turned at a ninety degree angle, sprinting in a different direction. Resultingly, the spirit's skeletal fingers grasped empty air where he had just been.
This dance continued for a short while. Darian summoned ghosts while Amos dodged. He was younger and faster, and his legs weren't rotting away. He started to pull forward. Possibly, Darian's Alchemy was slowing him down as well.
"Ink!" Amos bellowed. "Wake up!"
He burst into the clearing where Ink was snoring on his rock.
"Wha?" Ink propped himself up on one elbow and rubbed his eyes.
Amos stopped, puffing hard. He put his hands on his knees and looked back. Darian wasn't there. "Darian's chasing me."
"Thought you were sneakier than me."
"Shut up," Amos said between gasps of air. "No mana left. Have to run."
Ink nodded gravely. There was no telling if he knew what mana was, but he seemed to have an inherent understanding for the underlying power of the world. He could sense Amos' depleted state.
Ink stood and stretched, then picked Amos up and flung him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Without any further ceremony, he took off at a full sprint - no, a gallop.
Ink's tattoos coalesced around his legs, reinforcing the muscles there. He ran faster than a thoroughbred, crashing through the undergrowth with little care for subtlety or direction.
So it was that Amos was scorned from his home and family, thrust into an unknown world with little but a map, a knife, a friend, and all too many voices in his head.