“Fuck, Lucrys. And here I thought you might actually be able to stay sane. Well, let’s go see what you can do, shall we?”

     Skaarin dragged an absent Lucrys into the back room and forced him against the metal table. “What should we go over this time?” he asked. “Your regeneration obviously works just fine. Shall we experiment on something else instead?” He wandered around the room and stepped back in front of Lucrys. He used an axe to chop off his arm, then tossed it back on to the table. He hummed for a moment. “Oh, I know!” he exclaimed excitedly. “I’ll be right back. Wait right here.” He shot Lucrys a glance and looked at his straps. “Like you have a choice,” he laughed.

     Skaarin returned to the room with a large flask in his hand. He had lined the inside of his coat with smaller vials, as well. “Ready, Lucrys?” He asked, placing the vials on the table. “Honestly, I don’t know where to start! What do you think, should we test old age and then see if we can revert the process? Or should we see if I can turn you into a different creature entirely? Do you think your regeneration would return you to human form or just heal any wounds you get as an animal?”

     Lucrys’ head split apart, a hole gaping in the back. Even Skaarin’s concoction didn’t adjust his vision to the darkness within. A strange form crept from the hollowed skull. The creature that came forth was pitch, as though Lucrys’ malformed thoughts had manifested. Its arms wrapped around Lucrys slowly, gently hugging their prey.

     Skaarin watched, intrigued, as the talons of the being rent Lucrys’ torso. He stepped forward to touch Lucrys’ manifestation, but his fingers passed through the beast as if it were only air. It looked solid enough as it ruptured Lucrys’ body.

     As Lucrys’ body regenerated, the form dissolved back into the split, retreating away to its fucked up world. The world in Lucrys’ mind.

     Skaarin watched the new wounds reform. He stepped next to Lucrys. “Where are you?” he asked aloud as he studied Lucrys’ absent face. He leaned in and pressed his lips to Lucrys’ gently.

                                                                 ◊ ◊ ◊

     Skaarin walked up the hill. Blood flowed down from it, washing the flowers and grass in a wet, crimson dew.

     I could hear the sound of an ocean in the distance. But it was nowhere in sight. This place must’ve been Lucrys’ mind. I could feel the unnerving sensation of someone stalking me. Unseen hands brushed against my shoulder and tugged lightly at my clothes. I smelt flowers. The stench of blood, for the first time in a while, became unsettling to me.

     You reach the top of the hill. Fountains dot the area, spilling blood across the grass fields. Lucrys sits toward the center of the hilltop. You can see far into the distance. You walk to Lucrys and place your hand on his shoulder. Before you speak, you realize how cold he is. You know he’s been dead for hours. Bloodied shards protrude from his skin. You walk around him. His bare skin is missing the scars. He still looks just as starved as he usually does. His chest has been torn open, and within you see a light blue hunk of crystal. You know the image all too well. His magnius had solidified after boiling. He must have died when it pierced his lungs. You chuckle. The irony of the scene! Far away from your spot on the hill you can see a small town. Lights dance within, as if searching for something. You head away from the hilltop. The journey feels shorter than you expected, as though the distance is covered at an improper rate. You pass through a battlefield, an old rod sits, pierced through the armor of King Alucin - A sight you’d desperately yearned for years ago. You pull the lance from his body, giving it a thousand more good punctures before turning back toward the town. You reach the first building, a little ways out. It looks familiar to you. You enter and find the room empty, save a table. Searching it, you come across worn research papers and tomes. Some of the writing is far too faded to read, but there’s no mistaking it. This was your own research on memories, magnius, and alchemical arts. You pull a lantern from the wall and torch the research. “For old time’s sake,” you whisper. You walk to the town. Oddly, it only looks more and more familiar as you pass through. That’s when you hear it. Her voice calling out to you. “Dad,” she says. You don’t skip a moment. You run through the crumbling houses, pass through as the stonework falls around you. Blue and red kdulinj slabs set within the bricks seem to guide you. In the center of a building – no, rather, in the center of your home, a figure slumps, wrapped around another. “Dad?” she whispers. “Have you finally opened your eyes?”