Thin, almost imperceivable strands of multicolored light gathered into twisting, slowly flowing currents, occasionally whirling into a flame-like frenzy, throwing the glinting strings in all directions, only for the process to repeat as they sluggishly collected together once more. Sitting on his rough bed, nestled in a corner of the gloomy dormitory, Tucker felt a faint pang of…rage? No, that’s the angry one, it must be…embarrassment, he was probably gawking again. Slightly shifting the metal shackles binding his wrists, he looked around, catching people hastily looking away from the corner of his eye. Tucker smiled contently, turning his focus back to the light show around him, ignoring the judgmental and curious gaze of the others. He almost felt sorry for his fellow inmates; they couldn’t see their magic.
~
A rough grating sounded from the other side of a thick metal door, as those in the dormitory nervously shied away. A figure clad in a dark robe, hood pulled up, stepped through the entrance, sniffing the air with a scowl.
“I swear, these runts smell more by the day. For all I know, you pigs are probably rolling around in your own shi-”
“No!” a thin man cried out, pushing his way through the crowd. “I will not stand for this anymore! By the gods, we’re human beings,” he exclaimed, voice breaking as the other inmates looked away. “You and whatever other thugs you’re working with have no right to…” The man’s voice faltered as the hooded figure’s face darkened, eyes radiating malice.
“You have n-no right to-” the figure pulled out a hand from their robe, the glint of a ring playing across their index finger. They beckoned forwards, and the man’s metal shackles flew towards them, dragging him across the ground. Reaching down, the figure calmly placed a hand around the man’s neck, lifting him off of the floor until his feet were barely brushing against the stone ground, struggling to support his weight. The room grew deathly silent, save for the muffled gasps from the struggling man.
“Bernard, subject 238,” the figure remarked, reading the front of the inmate’s uniform. “You must be new here. Tell me, Bernard, have you ever had the joy of visiting sector E-7?” Bernard sputtered, desperate for air, before attempting to spit in the robed figure’s face, only for them to drop him, stepping aside as the glob of saliva hit the wall with a tiny splat.
“I see you’ve made your choice then,” the figure said, staring down at the man with contempt. “Rozdac has almost finished tweaking the absorption coils, and we’re itching for an extra rat like you to aid in…calibration.” The other inmates looked down, dull fear filling their eyes; it was rare for those who were sent to sector E-7 to emerge unchanged, if at all.
“Bryn, Morden, Thorina, Diane, Bernard, and Tucker, as usual. You’re all coming with me.” The eyes of those whose names were called widened, looking around desperately – all but Tucker, who shrugged lightly, holding out his shackles with a resigned smile. Tucker couldn’t remember exactly how long he had been there; seconds blurred to hours, stumbling into minutes, which soared into years, only to crumble into weeks. Was he unhappy? In all honesty, Tucker couldn’t tell. He knew he was supposed to feel something, but was there really more to life than this? The hooded figure beckoned once more, and the chains of those who were called rose towards the ceiling, leaving them hanging painfully by their arms. The rest of the inmates looked away as the figure stepped out of the room into a dim hallway of polished stone, locking the door shut as those chosen silently floated behind them. As they travelled through the sombre halls, one inmate – Diane, Tucker was pretty sure, began to sob quietly. He turned his head, straining his neck to see Morden staring at the floor, shoulders slumped forwards as he hung uncomfortably from his wrists. Everyone looked…what was it…sad. Maybe it was because their arms hurt. That was a reason people got sad, right?
“Morden, are you doing alright? I noticed you looked quite…erm…sad, so I-”
“No talking,” the figure snapped. Morden briefly looked up, giving Tucker a reassuring smile before lowering his head again. Looking around, Tucker noticed some strands of light around him assembling into an odd lumpy shape. Cloud, he instinctively thought. He turned the word over and over in his head as the gleaming strings drifted apart. Cloud, Cloud, it was a pleasant word, and brought another one to mind. Sk…Skye? Tucker pictured the face of one of the few people he could call a friend, with his sheepish grin and windswept white hair. No, that wasn’t it. The figure stopped at the end of a hall, waiting a few seconds before a harsh buzzer sounded and the entire wall descended.
“Alright,” the figure barked, finally setting the inmates down as a group of similarly robed people gathered around them.
"You, take Tucker and Bernard to the absorption coils. Bryn, Thorina and Diane are expected at the arcanium conductivity test site. And you,” they said, turning towards Morden. Tucker could just make out the outline of a smirk beneath their hood. “Catus wants another rematch. Your last spar was…disappointing, to say the least. We need proper data, and he wants a challenge, for once.” Tucker noticed Morden clench his fists, eyes slightly glazed over.
“Hey, good luck!” Morden sighed as two figures grabbed his arms, escorting him along a black line painted on the floor.
“Don’t think that’ll do me much good, but thanks for the thought.”
~
Tucker hummed a cheery tune as he and Bernard were shoved into a large room, darkness creeping into the far corners. In all the times he’d been through sector E-7, Tucker didn’t think they had brought him to this test area before. In the center of the floor, squared off by yellow and black paint rested a large glass chamber surrounded by heavy, complicated-looking machinery. Two large coils were screwed into the wall on opposite sides of the chamber, shining weakly in the dim light. He saw a small, wizened man wearing a long white lab coat and thick, framed spectacles step out from behind a machine on a raised platform looking over the room.
“Well then, Tucker,” he called out. “You’re the go-to subject when it comes to our more…experimental projects, and these buffoons have been bothering me for weeks to commence the first trials. Come now, into the chamber. Let’s try to make this quick.” Doctor Rozdac had always treated Tucker with at least some level of courtesy, for which he was…well, he supposed he was thankful for it. Did that mean he was unthankful towards the other people working here? His friends didn’t seem to like them, but Tucker couldn’t quite remember why…no matter, he had better do as the Doctor said. Smiling serenely, he walked through the glass doors as they closed behind him with a hiss. A few robed figures entered the room, as well as a large woman, holding a bucket of raw fish. Her wide jaws housed several rows of long needle-thin teeth, randomly jutting out of her mouth, and a dim ball of light protruded from her forehead, similar to that of an anglerfish. Her dark hair was tied back in a ragged ponytail, and a huge crab claw replaced her left arm, easily the size of a small shark.
“C’mon Roz, what’ya waiting for?! I’m gettin old here,” she shouted, tossing a chunk of fish into her mouth.
“I’m going to turn it on to the lowest power, and increase the potency from there,” Rozdac said, ignoring her. He smoothly pulled down a lever as the room filled with a low hum.
“Try to remember your experience as best you can, I’ll want the details right after we finish.” …This wasn’t right. Tucker looked around, startled that the strings of magic around him, instead of flowing at a gentle pace like usual, were trembling violently. He could hear a faint ringing in the base of his skull, that only seemed to be increasing in pitch as time went on. Suddenly, a devastating spasm of pain shot through Tucker’s body, and he screamed out in anguish. He felt as if he was being pulled apart, his very being stretched in a million directions. Another spasm twisted through him, and Tucker almost blacked out, feeling like his brain was being dunked into a vat of freezing water. He was scared. He had to escape, to get out of there. For the first time in Tucker’s memory he could feel, and he was going to die. Tucker picked himself up, shakily getting to his knees, failing to hold in a scream as his body spasmed once more. His magic was whirling around him, the shining, multicolored strings desperately trying to return to their host, to Tucker, even as they were forming a small vortex on either side of him, being drawn into the coils. No. Nonono, this couldn’t happen, he wouldn’t let his magic be ripped away from him. Right now it was the only company he had, his only comfort in this…this awful place, surrounded by awful people. These robed monsters weren’t his friends, he only had Skye, Morden, and his magic, and he wouldn’t let anyone take it away from him. Reaching out towards each coil, Tucker felt the shackles crumble to dust around his wrists, overloaded by the overwhelming amount of magic coursing through them. He stretched out towards the whirling tempest on either side, frantically clawing towards the strings, only for his hands to encounter a slight bit of resistance before passing right through them. Tucker tried a few more times, each attempt seeming successful, until his fingers slipped through the radiant threads at the last moment. Without warning, yet another convulsion tore through his body as he writhed in torment, this one worse than any before. Tucker’s vision blurred as tears welled in his eyes, and he made one last grab. His fingers connected with both torrents of pure magical energy, gathering one in each hand, as he felt the tremendous pressure of the coils absorbing his greatest companion, his friend. The weaving strands pulsed gently under his hands, resonating with his mind and soul; they…it? Was terrified, just like Tucker. The two were bound – neither could live without the other, and he wouldn’t let anyone rip them apart. With a final earsplitting roar of desperation, rage, and above all, effort, Tucker wrenched his magic towards himself, holding the two ends to his chest. He could feel the coils hungrily fighting back, reeling it in like an ever-persistent fishing line. Tucker couldn’t do anything but kneel there, mind reeling as he gripped the strands of energy, until he felt something new. Instead of resting in his hands, Tucker’s magic danced around his arms before being drawn into his very core, filling him with a sense of unfettered joy the likes of which he hadn’t thought possible. Why limit himself to one form of his magic, when it could be anything? Why…why limit himself to just the magic he currently had? Tucker got to his feet, quelching a spasm with the gesture of a hand. The faint ringing he heard changed pitch, smoothly aligning with the movement of the strands of light around him as he began drawing in magic, claiming back what he had lost to this evil machine and more. With a hollow clunk the coils collapsed in on themselves, shriveling into little more than twisted pieces of scrap metal. Tucker’s magic shone brighter than ever, seemingly content – yet hungry for more, if such a thing could have emotions. He could feel every growing crack in the glass around him, each frayed tip of the clusters of wire hanging from the ceiling. Arcanium, he thought. Again with the strange words. Why did they matter to him, why did they sound so familiar? Should he have known what they meant? Were they important? Whatever, it didn’t matter, not now. Prompted by the flowing strings, Tucker reached out through the wires, surprised at how his senses pleasantly shot through them, as if they were conducting his will, the…will of his magic. He could feel energy coursing through the building as he drew it in closer, making it his own. He understood now, this didn’t belong to his captors; they had stolen it from the inmates here, it was only right for him to take it back. A horrifying trio of tortured screams abruptly split through his mind as Tucker dropped to the floor, holding his head in his hands as if it would burst at any moment. No, wait, what was going on? He was just using the wires to…oh gods, the arcanium conductivity testing. Bryn, Thorina and Diane were sent there just before he…no, gods no, anything but this. A vision briefly flashed into view, three skeletal husks laying on the floor, the last of their life pooling out of their mouths to join Tucker. No, he didn’t mean to, he-he had gone overboard, he…Tucker wailed with grief and fear, wildly clawing his magic away. He was no better than the hooded monsters here, taking away the life of others for his own benefit. In response to his breakdown, Tucker’s magic started becoming increasingly unstable by the second, sporadically flitting between forms – one moment a group of strands accumulated into a rushing geyser of water, as another flailed against the shattering glass wall as a tendril of stone. And there, a single string unraveled, flickering into a thin plume of flame, making contact with a puddle of exposed gasoline leaking out of a damaged machine. His eyes widened, realising the danger he was in. Part of Tucker almost felt like letting it happen. He just killed three people, wasn’t this what he deserved? After all, it was only fair, he thought. He had taken the lives of his fellow inmates for his own, the best thing he could do was to just give up, and offer the only thing he had left…but his magic thought otherwise. Every strand around Tucker weaved together, encasing him in a cocoon vividly shining with every colour imaginable, thrumming with power. No, he felt reverberate in his mind as he pounded against the soft wall, wanting to join, to be consumed by the deafening explosion outside. You will be safe.