NOVEL FROG 65. The Mind Forge
"I was beginning to think you were going to ignore me," Cal said as he stood and stretched. "Two days straight of being in your mind palace—sixty days of meditation. If I had to guess, you are either stuck in here because of external or internal reasons. I lean more toward the external."
Cal had a half-satisfied smile that he didn't try to hide.
"You know you're already in my mind."
"It is easy to forget during the long bouts of isolation."
"You've been in here far longer on your own."
"The weight of guilt is a heavy burden."
"It's Purity again," I said, responding to his earlier guess. "I went to an entirely different city, and she still found me. Now I'm collared, and she is having her way with my body."
"Disgusting." The flayen shivered and then began pacing, sliding his hand down his braided beard of tentacles.
"Agreed. I don't dare look at what mutilation has taken place. So we are locked in here until the next cycle." I watched Cal walk from wall to wall several times, absorbed in his thoughts.
The room was spacious, filled with comforts like a bed, couch, desk, chair, and artwork. Calypso had done some of his own arranging. He shifted all the furniture to one-half of the room and left the other half open. It was in this open space he patrolled.
"Perhaps a mark of some type? I sense nothing foreign attached to your mind, so it must be a body or spirit mark."
Nothing foreign if we exclude the parasite that was devouring my memories. I kept the thought to myself. Though the irony got a little chuckle from me. The mention of a mark stood out most from Cal's words. Had I been marked?
I checked my body thoroughly, looking for any marks of any kind. There was nothing. The fact that I was inspecting my body in my mindscape made me even more confident that there was no mark on my body.
Though it was customary for orcs to paint their bodies in tribal tattoos filled with powerful runes as outcasts, the ritual didn't apply to my family. When I moved away, I felt no reason to get marking on my own. Part of it was my own rebellion. If my tribe didn't want to accept me, I wouldn't pretend to be a part of them. I had no markings on my body and was absolutely confident in my mental projection of myself—cloned body included.
I said no, even when Sasha offered to create markings for me with potent buffs. My body was mark-free.
That left my spirit, and unfortunately, I didn't have the confidence to inspect my spirit as I did my body and mind. From what I could tell, my spirit was clean. I didn't rule out the possibility, though. The Jesters had found me twice now. Something was alerting them to my position.
"Most likely a spirit mark," I said.
"I can not help you there."
"Figured."
"So—" Cal stopped pacing and turned to face me. I had to turn my head to the side because he stopped before returning to the middle of the room. "What brings you to my cell?"
"Two questions. First, how does the mind tracer work? I need to know when my memories are most at risk."
"The tracer is most active at the beginning of each cycle. The renewed energy spins up the fragment, allowing it to cut through memories." Cal danced around the words, trying to say them as delicately as possible. "Your precautions to preserve your memories will help. Creating backups was a great idea. I am also restraining the tracer so that it loses effectiveness over time."
"Until I die."
"Yes."
I took a deep breath. It wasn't ideal, but I could deal with it. Copying memories would create a buffer for the tracer to chew through. As long as I had enough buffer, I could keep my remaining memories intact. Then it was only a matter of not dying—a practice I was determined to get better at.
"I need your help," I said as I summoned a sliver of ice and injected it with my will. "But I don't trust you, which hinders how much you can help."
"What can I do?" Calypso asked, an eager expression on his face.
"Swear an oath to preserve my soul to the best of your ability. That includes my mind, body, and spirit. No more tinkering with my thoughts or memories. No more trying to take over my body or spirit. You are here to help me and me alone."
As Cal began to speak, I directed the sliver of ice directly in front of his mouth.
"I promise to protect and preserve your soul and only act in your best interest. I swear to serve you." The shard absorbed his words into the scripts, creating a binding contract. I nudged the sliver with a thought and directed it into Calypso's brow before he had time to react. It sunk through his skin and settled in his mind.
"Do you understand what happened?" I asked.
"You captured my oath and bound it to a shard of ice." Calypso massaged his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut a few times, only to shake his head a moment later. "Then you implanted the oath in my head. If I break my oath, my lifeline will be severed, and the recursion will collapse."
"You will die and your people will be wiped out by either the Shadow Plague or the Alderi Emperor. You have bound yourself to my cause. You can only guarantee the flayen's safety by serving me."
Cal nodded in agreement. Despite the dagger left in his mind, his disposition was still one of eagerness. Solitude has not been kind to him. A chance to exist outside his prison's confines and possibly save his people outweighs the oath he was now bound to.
The outcome was satisfactory. I wasn't sure how Cal was going to take the oath or the shard I attached to him. Nor was I sure I could create the binding shard to begin with. The plans for the oath shard started with a hunch and a desire. From there, I theory crafted a design until the idea became so vivid that it was all but a reality. A heavy dose of will was added to the implementation, which brought the shard to reality.
"Good," I said as Cal got used to the new bond. The shard should only bother him if he acted against his oath. "What can you teach me about reforging my mind?"
"For starters, do not reforge your mind while your body is under attack."
"Think of this as preparation for the next cycle."
"Very well." A carnivorous grin formed as Calypso resumed beard stroking and pacing. "Open your mind once more. I am about to blow it once more."
I do as Cal instructs, trusting in the newly placed oath shard to keep the flayen honest. Information about the process of reforging my mind floods into my head. I learn about theory, best practices, and examples of flayen mages that have all undergone the process. A visual of Cal's experience is projected, which I watched several times. We ran through simulated practice attempts, and I got pointers and feedback during the procedure. I practiced it over and over until reforging my mind felt natural.
Reforging the essence of the soul was an essential step in a cultivator's journey. Through reforging, a cultivator could transition their awakened body into something more powerful. The process allowed the practitioner to break through barriers to become more powerful. I was eager to set my mind on a higher plane but wanted to ensure the process was perfect. So, I devoted myself to the process and kept practicing until I was perfect.
Two months later, I felt the last of my life slip by in my mindscape. I don't know how I died in reality; all I do know was that I was smiling in the end when death came for me. It was time to put my practice to the test.