Re:Cursed

The ritual was a failure.

Well, technically it succeeded… but Nyxil's limbs didn't suddenly regrow, so she couldn't consider it as such.

To her best efforts, she tried to replicate the circumstances that led to her previous healing. She popped open some curses. Using the same ritual, she killed the Fleshsmith just as she had K'Sill. Nyxil even went so far as to miss the woman's heart as she had earlier.

And yet, nothing.

The failure in itself wasn't a bad thing; it told her that it wasn't only reliant on the ritual or curse. Because of that, she was rather confident in discarding the idea of it being a mutation she didn't fully understand. If, say, her stomach ate mutations, then this would have fuelled the healing. But that hadn't happened. The healing hinged on some aspect outside what she'd tested.

Problem being… she didn't have a clue what that aspect was.

Not only that, it was possible that this wasn't a replicable phenomena. She could be poking for something that could only happen once, or it occurred only in such extremely specific conditions that it wasn't worth pursuing.

But for now, she wanted to ignore that possibility.

"You have any idea what might have healed me?" she asked Tarchon. He was old — probably — surely he knew something that could help her.

"I'm no onomastician." The man didn't even look her way as he cleaned all remains of the altered fleshy wall. The corpses were all burned away and the polished floor looked as if it had never seen a drop of blood, no less piles of grey matter paste.

She hummed, disappointed. She'd expected Tarchon to have at least some input, but apparently not. Well, for killing a bunch of upper creed Fleshsmiths, she'd forgive him.

Nyxil's theories narrowed down to two that seemed the most likely given what she'd learnt. The first, was that it was a reward, or gift from the curse of binding. That curse had held so much lingering resent that it was possible that by inflicting the punishment it desired, it looked upon her with a positive light.

She only considered this because of how linked her name was to curses in the first place. With how she could interact and enact other people's curses, it wasn't a difficult to imagine being able to benefit from other's curses in strange ways.

Still a stretch, though.

Her next guess was that this was one of her names. Nyxil figured this was the most likely answer as she still had three names she still didn't fully — or even marginally — understand. N̚oth, Ossuul, and her Feat, Lyotep.

N̚oth included her rhythm effect, and now that she thought about it, the way her acid clung to her claws was probably caused by this name, too. Considering the names it had evolved from, and the description, it obviously focused on the body. Strengthening, accelerating, improving. She would have to consider how the name affected her saliva to sit across her other mutation so effectively later, but right now it wasn't important.

Healing absolutely had something to do with her body… but she wasn't certain. It didn't feel right. The metaphor of the name's description was of a tree that reached the skies and stretched far beneath the surface. The tree had to surpass its nature to become capable of new things. Healing could technically fit in that, but it was far too vague to say for certain. There was especially no consideration to any limitations there might be.

Ossuul was another name she wasn't so certain of. Of the three, this one she could write off immediately. There was very little chance the name that allowed her to flex more than her bones would allow was the one involved in healing.

And then, there was her Feat.

Nyxil had gained Lyotep for surviving a Dark Star — alone — and as of yet, it had shown absolutely no effect. Unless such a feat was more common than she thought, it had give a powerful effect. Limb regeneration was just that.

Perseverance. Survival. Slaughter.

Those were the aspects that defined the Feat. Aspects that were described as equal without compromise. It was such a perfect fit that she almost accepted it as the answer immediately. Survival gave the healing. Slaughter was the requirement. Perseverance was what this most recent sacrifice was missing. She needed to have been in active danger and struggling against it for the healing to take effect.

At least, it seemed right… until she considered her previous fights since gaining the Feat. She had never healed while slaughtering hundreds of skitter-spawn, and struggling to keep herself alive through vicious teeth and the crushing pistons underneath Tarchon's home. This was the flaw in an otherwise perfect fit.

Gathering herself, she hid her tentacles again. It was about time she rejoined her team. Hopefully they wouldn't be too mad at her for being away so long. Hopefully, they hadn't left.

"Hey, can you weld this to my leg?" She gestured the metal pipe that was all that remained of the prosthetic he'd given her. "With my pants, nobody will notice the somewhat healed leg."

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"And that matters when they are sure to question your arm?" Tarchon said as he stepped in to do as asked.

Nyxil nodded. "Of course! I'll just gaslight anyone who thinks they notice anything."

The Technocultist shook his head. "Are you sure you want this connected?" he asked. "It'll only get in the way when you next heal."

He sounds so sure there will be a next time. Nyxil narrowed her eyes. "That's fine. My body likes to spit out things that don't belong."

"I would like to think I don't have to tell you," he glared at her, "but you shouldn't tell anyone what happened here. Especially not my presence."

Nyxil smirked. "Oh, are you worr—ow!" He took that moment to shove the sharp metal ring of the pipe through her stump and bolt it in place.

Surely he could have done it the less painful way with the ritual.

The Technocultist ignored Nyxil's glower. "This still counts as witness protection, but with your observer dead, things might become difficult if they learn I was here." He paused. "Unless, you would like to come out and admit to her murder?"

Nyxil gave him a blank look. This was a joke.

"Didn't think so." Tarchon turned to leave, heading down the altered tunnel that wasn't really a tunnel anymore. "Neither of us were here, and you were off getting support by one of the other cults. See if you can instigate some doubts about who is your backer. You're obviously not going to take on the early rounds with your head down."

While she wondered if she should feign an insulted expression, Tarchon left her to her own devices.

It was a good idea. Instead of pretending nothing had changed, she could try to instil some confusion amongst those who were already interested in her. Mavi was with the Scriptures, so Nyxil could assume anything she said would reach the cults coming into the harbinger trials. Which cult would the Scriptures be most wary of?

Upon reentering the Biovault, Nyxil let out a sigh of disappointment. It was so hard to have her wings tied away again after finally getting them back. Just looking up at the inverted forest far above made her want to spread them and soar.

She heard her team immediately. Their arguing echoed through the corrupted forest unhindered. Only a short jog, and she found them.

Mavi was pissed. She was screaming at Tru, who looked like he was trying his best to calm her down and remain civil. Kal, maybe not unsurprisingly, sat amongst the roots of the earth cradling a black eye.

She'd been gone maybe forty minutes, and they'd already collapsed.

"That bitch left us," Mavi fumed. "Every minute is another Token gone, and I'm not sitting around until not only won't I impress anyone, but will border on failing. I won't let anyone take this chance from me."

"No, wait." Tru tried to convince her, but made no physical attempt. "This is a team Trial. If we don't wait, then we will fail. For all we know, Nyx's disappearance might be a test. Why else would the observer follow her? We should try to find her first."

"Oh, I don't suppose you would have any idea where to start? That hatch hasn't budged since that Fleshsmith went through."

Surprisingly, Kal was the first to notice her, but he didn't speak up. He didn't even scowl at her. All the boy did was silently glance at her, then return his eyes to the weeds between his feet.

"You can start right here," Nyxil said, bringing both arguing teens's attention to her. "Sorry for the delay; had to ditch the observer."

Mavi snarled at her. Apparently, their temporary goodwill towards each other had come to an end. She twisted, and strode towards the main entrance of the Biovault. "Now that you're back, we can hurry to the next token."

Nyxil had waved with her left arm to show her newly reformed elbow, but apparently Mavi didn't notice. Tru certainly did, but considering he didn't really have a cult backing him, she didn't want to explain. Not yet, at least. Maybe she'll get some Bodytwisters to listen in when she does.

Seeing no reason to delay further, she followed after Mavi. The girl had taken the lead, and barely cared to wait for the rest of them now that she'd been given the go ahead. Tru jogged to Nyxil's side, the question obvious in his eyes long before he asked it.

"What happened?"

"This and that, you know." She smiled.

The boy did not find it so funny. "Where's K'Sill?" He glanced around as if she would pop out of the trees. "And your arm! How'd you regrow it? Even fourth creeds pay an arm and a leg for that kind of treatment," he said, then paused, realising his choice of words. "Ah, sorry."

"I'm sure she's around." Her smile never left. "And this?" she bent her stump back and forth. "They said to consider it a half-given gift."

"Who?"

Nyxil didn't answer. She kept her smile steady. Let him guess.

It was fortunate that most wouldn't guess the Technocult at all, considering they never sponsored any prospective cultists before the Trials were over. Most cults wouldn't have passed up the opportunity.

Now that she hinted that someone had approached her, she wondered if any other cults would try. Tarchon was right; she wouldn't remain unnoticed for long. She didn't intend to. When they saw what she could do, the cults would flock to bring her in.

Nyxil would enjoy taking their invitations, and burning them.

But she still had the second trial to get through first. They wouldn't fail to take her in until they actually wanted her. Nyxil was to crush the competition, and she intended to start.

She noticed it was abnormally quiet behind her, and as she glanced back, she found Kal trudging along at a doze paces behind them. He didn't speak a word. His broken finger and black eye made for quite the appearance, but even without the injuries, he looked broken.

Nyxil had little sympathy for the boy. His own weakness had finally shattered that thick head of his. Kal's eyes sat on his blade more than it did the path before him. His mind somewhere else.

It was as if all life had been drained from him. Not a good life, for sure, but he had been animated and confident, even if it was deluded. Now, he was a husk.

Nyxil blinked. Lifeless? Can you kill something that isn't alive?

Suddenly she remember the hound-spawn she'd killed in the first Trial. She'd felt an uncomfortable tingling in her wounds after crushing that creature's head, hadn't she? It handn't been a noticable heal like today, but it had been there. The creature had an effect, even if minimal.

Her smile stretched to a grin. Tru suddenly looked unsettled besides her.

Spawn are created from the deaths of other creatures. Can they really be considered living themselves? In a sense, they are dead. Nyxil hadn't healed from the skitter-spawn because they did not meet the condition of her name. The hound-spawn should be the same, but whatever soul trickery Zan'Asyll had performed must have given it some life. Enough to affect her.

She was all but certain now.

Lyotep would heal her when she had been struggling, and killed a foe.

Nyxil couldn't wait for the harbinger Trials. No doubt there would be some beast to kill. She was going to take full advantage of this Feat.