Re:Cursed

The Great Iris always spun. Wispy tails of the accretion disk that stretched into the pupil had never stopped its slow spiral. From there, each burning arm quickly increased its speed as it edged outward. Most of the Iris was nothing but a solid ring. Either too fast to see, or frozen in time.

But Nyxil had never seen the stars spin.

Only once had she seen a single star move, back when she was very young, and the resulting Accretion Storm had the entire ward on lockdown for a month. This wasn't just one star… but all of them.

All through the safe zone — and likely everywhere else — cultists of the Everseeing Eye fell to their knees. Nyxil hadn't been the only one to notice. With their heads tilted back and lidless eyes locked above, they clutched their hands over their chests and chanted. Their revering voices sung a cacophony before harmonising in a well-practised hymn.

The other cultists followed the gaze of worshippers, but did not join them. Not entirely apathetic, but also unwilling to praise the Everseeing Eye cult's focus of adoration.

By Nyxil's side, Dan glanced between the Great Iris above, and the kneeling men and women. Uncertainty defined his expression. An uncertainty that extended to many of those who were ready to take their first trial only moments ago.

As the first stanza of the Cult of the Everseeing Eye's hymn concluded, many of them abandoned the Trials. They ran for their northern temple. Intent on taking the bridge up to the Observatory where it hung far overhead. Two of the cultists near Nyxil argued over who should stay, and who should get the honour of returning to witness the event.

"The Trials must be delayed." An eyeless Everseeing Eye cultist stepped forward. The scarring of a horrible burn stretched out from his eye sockets to his temples and down to his cheeks. One of the upper creed of their cult. "This phenomena needs to be observed."

"Is this not a sign from the Great Iris?" A lesser cultists asks. "It observes these Trials, and we should not interfere with its will."

The eyeless cultist rubs his chin for a moment, considering. "No. To assume the will of the Observer is to alter its nature, and hence, our own. The Great Iris is always watching, and we must devote ourselves to peering back."

Arguments spout all over the commons. Everseeing Eye cultists shouted over the heads of the tens of thousands of teens that had, themselves, fallen into disarray. Nobody knew what would happen. Everyone wanted to talk about it.

The assistant Adjudicator still standing on the raised hand was trying to regain order, but nobody could hear him. Things grew worse with each second as more Everseeing Eye cultists left and the prospective cultists shouted to hear over one another.

Until the Adjudicator returned.

Leaping up to the raised platform of her fellow Bodytwister, Ep'Nanorschi snapped her spine three times which brought her height to a full metre above her acolyte. The stitches of her lip unravelled and her jaw dislocated. Her mouth widened and lips up to the bridge of her nose splayed, revealing a maw more fitting a worm than the human it sat within. Even the teeth that had seemed crocodilian before now sat radially in her gums.

A harrowing hiss ripped from her throat. The sound sent shivers down Nyxil's spine the same way nails on a chalkboard would. As she felt her spine-tips stand on end, her stomach churned. Around her, a few unfortunate kids let free their breakfast.

Ep'Nanorschi's shriek cut short, and her face sewed itself back together. Nobody dared make a noise. "Now that I have your attention, the Trials will continue."

"I must object," the blind Everseeing cultist interrupted. "This is far too rare an event to ignore. These Trials are already far ahead of schedule. We have ever reason to delay them."

"You can object all you want." Ep'Nanorschi shrugged. "But I am this year's Adjudicator." She addressed the crowd. "If you haven't already, you have ten seconds to choose your challenge." With that said, she left. A dozen frustrated Everseeing Eye cultists watched her leave.

For a moment, Nyxil wondered if there would be a way for her, or the Technocult, to incite those feelings. Could they set the Everseeing Eye against the Bodytwisters? It would cut down on the number of enemies they needed to fight.

"Challenge of information," Dan said, and his own small serpent of blood wound its way around his wrist.

"There's no drawing challenge. No painting, or any other art challenge. Not even one for craft." Ari was panicking. Her breath came out in short bursts, while her words quivered. "There's nothing I can take."

Nyxil had noticed the lack of Omen Artisans around. They weren't a large cult, but they should have sent more than the half dozen that were here. More than likely, they hadn't even fought for one of their own challenges to be included.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"You have to choose something," Dan pressed.

"But-"

With Ari about to protest, she would miss the cut-off. "You only have a second," Nyxil hissed almost too quickly for the words to be comprehensible.

Fortunately — or not, considering her choice — the urgency in Nyxil's voice pushed Ari to squeak out an answer.

"Self defence."

Both Nyxil and Dan gaped.

"And time's up." Ep'Nanorschi's acolyte's voice rang over the crowd. "Now make your way to your respective challenge. Your guiding band will indicate when you perform your first Trial."

Nyxil ignored the incessant tugging on her arm. Her focus was solely on the girl that, as far as she knew, had no tools to help her in a fight. Ari had that bag slung around her shoulder, but Nyxil was confident there was nothing in there besides some canvases and drawing books. She'd be surprised if she'd thought to bring any ritual materials with her.

"What were you thinking?" Dan asked, taking the question from Nyxil's lips. "Why self defence? There was the challenge of ritual, or information."

"I wasn't thinking." Ari looked like death had come for her. Her face was pale, and she shivered. She held her arms protectively over her chest as she stared at nothing. "I panicked, and I couldn't think of any others."

Dan dropped his head in his hands and let out a groan.

"What do I do?" Ari snapped out of her daze. "I can't fight."

Dan met her eye, and it was clear he was equally uncertain. His jaw worked, but no ideas came forth. Sympathy and concern morphed his expression. They all knew what kind of life awaited someone who failed their first Trial. While Nyxil would have preferred it over how her first time played out, Dan and Ari still considered it life-ruining.

They couldn't fail here… but there was no way for Ari to avoid failure.

At least, not by herself.

"Don't worry about Ari." Nyxil stepped up besides her, though not going so far as to put an arm on her shoulder. "I'll take care of her… somehow."

If underhanded methods of sabotage were so common in the Trials that Tarchon had to warn her about them, then she had no problem cheating herself to help out someone who'd been spurned by the choices given to her. The only question, was how?

She would figure that out later, once she knew what the challenge actually was.

Dan looked like he wanted to argue, but a tug at his wrist — mirrored by Nyxil and Ari's bands — held his tongue. His eyes flicked to Ari, before returning to Nyxil with a nod. "Thank you." Their bloody bracelets tugged again, ever more insistent. "We should go. Ari, Nỷx̱il… good luck."

It took a whole three seconds before Dan was lost to the crowd. Everyone was moving. The thousands of participants weaved amongst each other with a fluidity impossible for a disorganised crowd. Apparently, the ritual did more than just point people where they needed to go.

"Nỷ… ah, Nix," she corrected herself, realising just how many people were around. "Are you sure this is a good idea? I appreciate the thought and all, but it'll be hard to join a cult if you get a demerit. Besides, it's obvious there aren't many Omen Artisans here. There's no point in you risking yourself for me when I'm likely to receive the same result regardless."

"I don't mind," Nyxil said, slipping around the elbow of some boy not watching where he was going. "Besides, I don't intend to get caught."

Not to mention those demerits are only there to discourage cheating without disqualifying the participants entirely. For the most promising candidates, some cults will pay those fines gladly. Those without any backing… well, they should be used to getting slighted.

"But… how?" Ari asked, following close behind Nyxil. "I mean, I've never fought in my life. Does one of your names let you mystically fight from a distance?"

"Don't know yet." She shrugged. "First I want to see what they throw at us. If you're before me, I'll lend you my sword. Beyond that, we'll have to figure it out as we go."

After five minutes of wading through people, they finally reached where their bands led them. It was one of the peripheral courtyards. A dozen observers stand waiting as the lines of teens file into the space bordered by waist-high walls.

There were still hundreds of people around, but it was surprising to see that other than the participants in this particular challenge, every teen avoided the space. An aspect of the bracelet, no doubt. Clear the space first.

Nyxil twisted, shattering the glass vial before it could touch her back. The hand attached to it flinched. A squirrely voice gasped, but with their hood pulled low, Nyxil couldn't see their face. They ran. No hesitation. Nyxil dashed after them.

With the crowd as thick as it was, she'd known it had been possible. After so long in the Dark Star, Nyxil wasn't about to let down her guard with so many possible threats around her. She couldn't. And yet, even being as vigilant as she could be, she'd only noticed the attack coming a fraction of a second before it would have hit.

Her attacker's robe was the same indistinct black as so many around her, but Nyxil wouldn't lose them. She wouldn't have, if not for a man suddenly standing in her way. A fleshsmith. She snarled, and was suddenly very grateful for the armband gifted by Ta'Stralanov'r. If not for it, her razor-sharp triangular teeth would have been obvious.

"Do not growl at me, feral child," he glared down at her. "Now, are you here for the challenge of self-defence, or are you going to relinquish your opportunity?"

Getting a hold of herself, she tried her best not to glower at the obvious Fleshsmith. He was one of the few that wore his fleshcraft through his clothes. Bits of metal and flesh interwove through the dark fabric.

She looked around him, and found her attacker gone. Nyxil gave the man an unimpressed look, but he was far too busy inspecting her. Whether he knew about her mutations or not, she didn't know, but he'd certainly been told something about her. His curiosity left unsated, he brushed past her and entered the ritual courtyard.

"Are you alright?" Ari asked, joining her side. "What was that?"

Nyxil lifted her hand. Among bits of broken glass, there was a distinct violet substance. Vitiate. They'd tried to infect her.

"Listen up everyone, I didn't want to be here, but my hands are tied." The Fleshsmith stood at the front of the gathering.

Nyxil's head snapped up. They didn't.

"I am this Challenge's coordinator. We are going to get through this quickly, and if you want to complain, you fail. First victim, come up."

They did.