The ink—it won't dry, won't just—settle down already I mean I held the quill up high like they said but the drop at the tip it's heavy as a rock in my palm and I keep thinking about how it looks like a bug's eye glistening and—no not a bug. Not now. My fingers they're jumping around the feather shaft I thought it was tiredness yeah that's what I told myself first but then my palm started sticking to the wood and I didn't even know I was sweating that much I mean—
I put it down. Drew the letters. Lyra Vale. But they look wrong, not the way I write them usually no—more like someone else's hand wearing my skin like a glove that's too tight and scratchy under the nails and I keep staring at the L because it slants too far to the right like it's trying to run away from the rest of the name and when I pull my hand back the ink smears a little but it stays there anyway permanent as a scar you didn't ask for and—
A hand snatches it away. Fast. Too fast I didn't even see him move Handler Elric I know it's him but I don't look up I can't look at his face because his hands are always clean always smooth like he's never touched anything real or messy or alive and he doesn't pause doesn't ask doesn't even glance at me and I know why right I know understanding isn't on the list but still I wanted—no I didn't want anything I just—
My fingers are still hovering where the paper was. Empty. Cold. I curl them in tight but there's nothing to hold onto nothing at all and the table under them feels like ice but maybe I'm the one who's frozen I can't tell anymore which one's which and I open my mouth to say something and the words come out thin like air through a crack in the wall "Elric."
He stops. Barely. Just shifts his shoulder a little doesn't turn all the way around just says "Yes." Not Lyra not Vale just yes like I'm a door he needs to open or a tool he's checking over and I swallow but my throat's sticky like I ate dirt and the question is there on my tongue will I make it through this will I wake up tomorrow but then I think—no he won't lie but he won't answer either because the answer doesn't matter only what I signed and I nod even though he can't see me and it's stupid it's so stupid but by the time I finish he's already walking away already gone already treating me like I was never even there—
I stand up. My legs are solid steady like tree trunks and that's wrong isn't it shouldn't I be shaking shouldn't I be stumbling but no I'm walking straight as an arrow and the corridor's so long the stone walls look like teeth closing in slow slow slow and the guards they don't look at me don't even blink just stand there like statues made of dust and sweat and I know why I know I'm not leaving I'm not running I'm just going where I'm supposed to be but then why does the path behind me look so clear so wide open like no one's watching at all—
I almost turn around. Almost lift my foot to go back but then I smell it the air up ahead changes and it's not just cold it's thick like old soup left out in the sun mixed with metal that's been rusting in rain for years and my lungs squeeze shut I stop right at the door frame I don't mean to my feet just stop moving and I think I could run now I could bolt and no one would stop me but then I remember the ink the name the way his hand felt when he took the paper and I know—know it's a trick safer not to try safer not to find out what happens when you break rules you can't even see—
I step inside. The heat just—vanishes. Not cold like snow or ice but empty like someone sucked all the warmth out with a straw and left nothing behind but space and the circle on the floor it's huge precise perfect and wrong wrong wrong because when I look at the lines they won't stay still they crawl under my eyes like worms in rotten wood shifting around rearranging themselves and I swear I can feel them looking at me even though they're just marks on stone just symbols just—
My foot crosses the outer ring and pain shoots up my back so deep I can't breathe can't move can't think and my heart it stops I count three beats one two three and then it slams back to life so hard it feels like it's trying to punch its way out of my ribs and I gasp and the sound bounces off the walls like I'm screaming even though I'm not and my knees go weak but I don't fall I just stand there frozen because something touched me not on my skin not on my clothes but inside me like a hand reaching into my bones and I know it I know whatever this thing is it knows me back—
I clench my fingers tight until my knuckles are white but I don't make a sound because no one's looking no one's caring the High Arcanists are just moving around setting things down pouring stuff that smells like burnt hair and I think maybe this is supposed to happen maybe they all knew and didn't tell me and that's worse than anything worse than the pain worse than the cold because at least if they'd told me I could have—could have what? Prepared? Run? I don't even know anymore—
I take another step. The pressure gets bigger heavier like standing next to a mountain that's slowly leaning toward you and you know it could crush you without even noticing and my gut's twisting in knots telling me to run to hide to get out now but my feet keep moving forward keep carrying me to the middle to the spot where the lines cross and glow just a little and I stop there and my breath's short sharp like I've been running and the symbols under my shoes they're pulsing slow steady like a heartbeat and I swear I can feel them through my soles through my skin through everything—
My shoulders pull up tight my back straightens out and I don't decide to do it my body just does it on its own like it knows what's coming even though my brain's still trying to catch up still trying to figure out what all these lines mean what they want from me and my skin starts to prickle all over not from cold but like I'm naked in front of a mirror that shows every single thing inside me every fear every lie every little piece of me that I try to hide and I swallow again but my throat's still sticky still full of dirt—
The room's quiet so quiet you can hear dust falling but something's different now I can feel it in my chest in my bones in the space between my breaths it's not outside me it's in me and whatever's under the floor whatever's in the lines it just—it just noticed I'm here I'm real I'm not just a name on a piece of paper or a body standing in a circle and I curl my fingers again I don't know why I don't know what I'm holding onto or what I'm fighting against but I know one thing for sure now—
I can't leave. Not if I wanted to. Not ever again.