My thoughts are spiraling out of control and I feel myself running a dead sprint towards a panic attack or worse. I've been having them more and more regularly in recent years and have been working on techniques to pull myself out of them with some help from the support staff here…

  But, as it turns out, being suddenly scared out of my skin when I feel a hand on my shoulder will also do it. I let out an undignified yelp and jump, the surprise yanking me back from the yawning pit I had nearly fallen in. “It’s been a long time since someone had snuck up on me like that. Do better, you’re not safe on this side of the keep.” I open my eyes and see the olive-skinned, raven-haired, and warmly smiling face of Serafina Blackthorn. The person I’m currently late to a meeting with after all of my delays.

  “Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you. I thought a gentle touch might have sufficed to get your attention. That looked like it really hurt. Are you alright? It looked almost like you tripped coming out of the barracks.” Her eyes are black through and through. No distinction between pupil and sclera, and surrounded by an amethyst limbal ring that slightly glows, betraying her status as a practitioner of the Blackthorn clan’s most potent and private magicks. She looks beyond and through me and I struggle to not squirm under her gaze. Most of the Blackthorns are known for doing that, and I’ve experienced it a lot growing up here, but no matter how often I experience it, something about being stared through makes my skin crawl. Like knowing someone is undressing you with their eyes, but…deeper somehow. It's hard to put into meaningful words.

  She offsets some of the feeling with a jovial look of warmth and comfort, though. Her hair is pulled back into tight and elaborate braids of raven-black that are strung with purple beads, wire, and crystals that compliment her official robes well. The robes themselves are primarily black and gold, with white panels for accents breaking up the lower section of the robes and the sleeves.

  “Oh, Dame Serafina.” I snap my good arm across my chest in a salute and work to reign myself in as best I can, “I’ve been better. But it can wait until after our meeting. As to the barracks - someone tripped and bumped me while I was passing through, nearly knocked me over. But they bounced off my arm which knocked the injury out of position. Simple accident.” I lie, and I’m really not even sure why. I don’t owe them anything. Just avoiding conflict I guess or because I don't have enough energy for whatever it might turn into. "I just reset it, so it's fine until the end of this meeting."

  Her eyes focus from beyond me and settle on my own with a seriousness that makes it hard to look away and for a moment, I think she’ll call me out.

  Serafina cocks her head to the side, eyes glinting with an inner light as she does. But she smiles after a brief frown, “Well, should anything ever happen that isn’t an accident, let me know. As soon as our meeting is over, you need to go see the menders. In the interim may I do something to relieve your pain?” I nod sharply and brace myself. I don’t like others casting imbuements on me, but it would be the height of rudeness to turn down a Blackthorn offering a favor — Dame Serafina is the one responsible for the welfare of all us here. I don't mind her as much, though, she is more amiable than any others of her clan I've met.

  She traces a rune in the air with one hand, and as her finger travels it leaves behind a rapidly crystallizing off-white haze mixed with dense rivers of brown in its wake. The sigil completes and she gently presses it into the center of my chest and I feel an unfamiliar essence flood my body in a large quantity. Far more than I could naturally call if I tried. I feel a stabilizing presence settle over me. The pain doesn’t go away, not really, but I find it easier to ignore. I look at her in surprise. “I didn’t know any of the Blackthorn’s used any of the lifegiving compounds. Thank you very much.”

  She holds up a chastising finger and waggles it with a wink, “That’s because we don’t. Walk with me and I’ll explain.” Making an open gesture, she urges me forward. When I move, she slides her hands into her sleeves and follows. “I’m impressed you know that little factoid. It’s not common knowledge.” I feel a bit of anticipation at the comment, even as it’s delivered with a positive tone, but before I can answer or worry she adds, “That’s the sort of attention to detail that proves that our decision to offer you the position of the next Slayer was the right one. But to answer your implied question,” She withdraws a hand from her robes and holds up 3 fingers, “It’s a third-tier compound essence comprised of two second-tier compound essences. Ordo and Ignia essence compounded into Discipline, and a Terra concentrate compounded into Resolve. Combine Discipline and Resolve, and what do you get?” She looks at me with expectation. Magical theory was among my better subjects, but I struggled to compound a single second-tier essence, let alone two at once and compounding those at the same time. Doing that degree of essence manipulation is a few seconds is, frankly, absurd and probably one of the single most potent displays of competence I’ve seen in a long time. Normally that sort of thing would take maybe thirty seconds to a minute for most magi.

  But that's Dame Serafina. According to the grapevine, and confirmed by displays like this, she's among the most capable magi in the country, having reach advanced stages of development decades ahead of the average person. If rumors are to be trusted, then she's far within the final stage of development — the area of mastery that practicing magi typically hope to achieve before they die. Her being anywhere near it, even accounting for hyperbole, in her low 30's is remarkably impressive.

  She's not a combatant — not really — but the degree of control she shows is insane.

  The focus on theory helps me stay focused, though, so I'm grateful for it. “I’m unfamiliar with more than half of those, admittedly. I can only call Ignia and Aero and barely at that,” Dame Serafina nods. She's well aware of my condition and circumstances, “But I’ve never successfully found a compound ratio between the two, nor a concentrate of either alone. But if I had to guess, a conceptual essence, rather than an elemental one. Mixing the concepts of Resolve and Discipline…Orders?”

  Serafina grins the grin of a teacher looking at a star pupil and it buoys me in a way that I really wouldn’t have expected, “Very close. Duty. It has very narrow uses, but pushing people to complete a task in the face of hardship is one of them. I can’t mend wounds much at all, but I can at least give you a small Imbuement to make it a little more bearable while getting the job done.”

  She slows as we approach her office door. At some point we had arrived in the personal wing of the Blackthorns and I…hadn’t noticed, having been distracted enough that I lost my step count. I look around and settle on the door: an ostentatious affair. Essence-imbued ebony, ringed with alchemical sigils laid in gold to do any number of things that I have not the first clue about. All surrounding the Blackthorn family crest, which itself sits below and smaller than the grand icon of the Watcher, a pair of disembodied, stylized ears around an imposing-looking eye with a cloudy purple crystal in the place of the pupil and sclera. A glowing ring sits outside the sclera like a halo.

  The symbol has always carried meaning to me, as the Watcher watches over the faithful and guides them to where they are needed to protect those who cannot protect themselves — like how I was found.

  “After you, Little Slayer.” The nickname would normally sting — it used to be something affectionate that got poisoned over the years — but coming from Serafina, it brings me a modicum of peace. She's well outside and beyond the problems I've been having, so I try to cut her as much emotional slack as much as possible.

  I step in, murmuring a prayer for guidance under my breath, and walk into a wall of perfume and incense so thick that it feels more physically imposing than Lars and that ogre. I instantly sneeze a few times and look over at Dame Serafina worried that I might have offended her but she merely shakes her head and chuckles. “That’s a common reaction. I find that these incenses give me a clear mind and make it easier to say what needs to be said. I take no offense. Please have a seat.” I follow her instructions quickly and find a comfortable high-backed chair opposite her desk as she hesitates near the door to deal with an essence signature lock to secure the room. If I had to guess, based on the way the air pressure in the room changes, it’s locking the door and also putting up a barrier to prevent sound escaping the office. A smart inclusion for situations like this and other sensitive topics. I never took her for being someone who was that type of shrewd and find myself impressed for it.

  As I sit I look around the room. After the ostentatious door, the office is comparatively plain. Everything within is of the highest quality, but nothing is gilded, engraved, or overdone. Simple bookcases line the walls, covered in tomes and grimoire of every color, shape, and size. Each one likely a wealth of knowledge that will never escape this room. The desk is similarly simple but utterly coated in paperwork, tomes, and writing and inscribing implements. In the center of the desk, my eyes are drawn to a cracked crystal orb about the size of the core of a plum. Vestiges of essence remain within, but barely enough to detect.

  Serafina drops into her chair with a sigh then looks at me quizzically, making me realize I’d been staring openly. “Get it together Nyssa, you’re being lax. Now is the opposite of the time for lackadaisy focus.” My vision is abruptly cut off by Serafina snatching up the crystal and holding it between two fingers, looking at me through it like a damaged spyglass, reflecting her own face but upside down.

  “That’s a peculiar look, Nyssa. Do you know what this is?” Serafina asks me, gesturing with the crystal and gazing at me with curiosity.

  “No, I can’t say I do for certain, Dame Serafina, but I think I saw something like it from a distance in the hands of that young man I saw in the town after things went south with the expedition.” I feel the words leaping out of my mouth with ease. It feels somewhat unsettling, like being half in control of my mouth. I take a deep breath to compose myself, savoring the cloying odor of the incense and feeling that concern melt away.

  “Please, Nyssa, just call me Serafina while we’re in private like this. I don’t need you to stand on ceremony when it’s just the two of us. Besides, our meeting here will be a lot quicker if we both dispense with the titles.” Serafina says with a soft smile and kind eyes. “I do think, however, that I should correct one thing. I read your initial report, and what you saw was not a ‘young man’ anymore, and you’d do yourself a service by trying to cut that interpretation out of your mind.” she adds with a slightly sharp, almost chastising, tone. Clearly not meaning to be rude or mean. Just firm. “After decades of research, our top magi have been unable to find anything remaining of anyone who undergoes the Calamity morphosis. One of the first targets of the infection is the sense of self, followed by memories, and then the hunger.” She begins to extol, detailing things that I’ve understood my entire life.

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

  “Yes, Dame Blac- Serafina,” I catch myself and continue, “It’s just…he behaved differently from any other Calamities I’ve ever heard or read about. He wasn’t attacking anyone, and he pleaded with me in confus-”

  Serafina holds up a hand, forestalling further explanation, “It was trying to manipulate you. Familiarity is one of the Calamity’s greatest weapons at that stage of its life cycle. While it’s incredibly rare, sometimes the morphosis can take longer than normal for reasons we haven’t come to understand yet. You say it wasn’t attacking anyone, but your report said that you saw it kneeling within the center of the town, surrounded by bodies and the remnants of aetheric collapse? That doesn’t exactly match up with ‘not attacking anyone’, does it?”

  I shake my head, slight embarrassment clear on my face. “Apologies, I am letting myself be swayed by the circumstances. I should have been more clear. I didn’t see him — it — attacking anyone directly. When I confronted it, it didn’t attack me, in spite of my wounds. I’ve heard Garrick talk about fighting them, tales from the course of his entire life. Calamities don’t hesitate. They don’t talk. And they don’t run when confronted. Like any monster. These are things in the scripture itself, and that’s why I am troubled over it.”

  The Blackthorn archivist looks across the table at me with a worried expression, “My initial skepticism aside, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t concerned by the your report. It was obviously a trying time for you, and it’s understandable that you’re feeling out of sorts. Please, allow me to allay some of those concerns before we continue, if you’re interested?” She questions, waiting for my response as she places another incense block on the burner. After a few moments, I take a deep breath, closing my eyes and slowly nodding my head. “Excellent. So, let me lay out some things for you that you have not yet been privy to. These are things you’re slated to learn in the next couple years as you move into a more active role alongside Garrick, but given the circumstances, I think peeling back the curtain is warranted.” She grimaces with a shrug and a slight smile, “I’m sure I’ll hear about it, since this is breaking protocol, but I can’t have our Slayer-in-waiting stumbling around in the dark confused. I’ll accept the consequences for myself.” The words resonate with me. I don’t think I remember the last time I heard someone offer to take a proverbial bullet to help me.

  She lofts the crystal once more, holding it up to the light, “We call these “Calamity Seeds”. Everywhere a Calamity is born, one of these can be usually be found, though this one is in better shape than most. We believe that they contain the vital heart of the corrupting influence of the Calamity and, as such, when they come into contact with someone, the essence breaks free to infest the host. Shortly afterwards, they are irrevocably changed. Their personality is subsumed by corruption, to be replaced by an all-enveloping urge to consume physical and aetheric essence. This consumed essence is how Calamity strengthens itself.” She pauses to place another block on the burner and takes a deep breath. “This, by itself, would be problematic, obviously, but when you factor in that these infections tend to actually succeed in small towns and villages — the infected person will have long since absorbed all of the available essence in the area long before anyone is even aware anything is happening. People are, as it turns out, excellent batteries of essence for this purpose.” She pauses, grimacing openly at the thought, before pushing on, “These infections happen all over, but they are very easily stopped in well-prepared towns and cities. At the moment of infection, the host is rendered comatose for up to an hour, during which their skin will crack to reveal the devouring essence within. In these moments they can be stopped long before they have had a chance to consume enough to be a threat.”

  “It’s grim, for sure, but once the process has started, it is simply over for the host. They are gone within moments, so putting them to the sword saves countless lives and allows others’ memories of them to go untainted by the coming change.” She sighs, looking dejected for a moment. The Blackthorn clan is chartered by the crown to take on the task of trying to understand and counteract the Calamity, and I have to imagine that there’s no small amount of shame whenever one of these events takes place.

  Thinking on that, I realize as I look at her as she continues to talk, “Is she really any different from me with my regrets? It must be hard on her to know about these things so privately… It does explain some of her family's aloofness, I suppose.”

  Serafina places the crystal on the table, but the slight impact causes it to shatter, falling to the table in a small cascade of sharp fragments. With a sideways glance and a sigh, she sweeps the fragments to the edge of the table before continuing. “But more specifically to what you experienced and the explanation. It isn’t a well-known or researched occurrence for obvious reasons, but some people with particularly strong wills can resist the infection for a time. This isn’t common knowledge because, if it were, the people would be even more paranoid regarding these events, and we would rather not incite blind inquisitions. So this “man” you briefly spoke to was in the throes of losing…himself. He seemed erratic, right? Moving unpredictably, stilted speech, things of that nature?” Serafina looks at me significantly while I listen attentively, trying to absorb every bit of information I can.

  I pale, giving a barely perceptible nod, “Yes, he was. He also seemed to be in a considerable amount of pain, despite having no notable visible injuries.” I look down at my hands, idly remembering the hand of the man standing out starkly in contrast to the rest of him. “There had been no blood there…” I shake my head, breaking my reverie and look at the expectant but patient Serafina. “I suppose it does make a degree of sense. He did wind up throwing himself from the cliff while…apologizing, I think. His speech was ragged and some bits were hard to make sense of.” I feel a deep frown spread across my face unbidden.

  “Why the frown? The man remained whole long enough to take his own life instead of changing into something else, something worse. I was evidently too hasty in my diagnosis of the situation. He remained a man until the end, it seems.” She makes an apologetic gesture, crossing one arm across her chest with a bow of her head. It’s nice to hear an apology from someone, but the other aspect of this is creeping into my mind as I get close to the events .

  I close my eyes and feel my frown deepen, fighting against some unfamiliar but powerful emotions. “I worry that I might have killed someone who was unique. Exceptions happen. It’s the nature of magic. Maybe he had the appropriate concentrations of the right types of essence to counteract the corruption? Maybe something else was going on? Divine protection, maybe?” I begin to speak faster, the words in the back of my mind pouring out like water from a broken dam, “He begged me for help and wasn’t manifesting the signs of full infection. But I chased him after I saw what happened to the town, and I’m not even sure he was what killed those people! My task and training are to kill monsters. I have no problems with that, but I’m not convinced he was a monster, and I killed him anyways.” My voice begins to harden towards the end of my outburst as I try to reign my emotions back in by force but fail as I feel a few tears welling at the corners of my eyes. I feel an immense pressure crushing down on me, something I’ve been ignoring in the aftermath, and start to withdraw within myself. I try to center myself, repeating Garrick’s mantra, “Head down, power through, head down, power through…” but my breath continues to come more and more quickly, more and more shallowly.

  “Oh, dear, Nyssa, you poor thing.” Serafina stands and makes her way around the desk to crouch beside me in support. As she places a comforting hand on my shoulder I feel a cool sensation pass between us and my breathing starts to settle. Like the pain, the feeling doesn’t go away, I just feel a sharper degree of focus and can more easily push it away. She speaks again, “I’d be lying if I said what you went through was a situation with a clear, defined answer. These emotions you’re feeling are entirely reasonable, especially considering what you went through as a child. I’ve had similar conversations with Garrick since coming here.” I lift my head, my white hair falling out of the way as I do, and shoot Serafina a questioning glance.

  “Garrick has doubts? I guess I understand that intellectually, but it seems so far out of character for him.” I quietly question between an occasional sniffle.

  “Less so nowadays, but he’s been doing what he does for upwards of 50 years now. I’ve had nearly identical conversations with him and similar ones with other knights when they’re in need. There’s nothing wrong with doubt. Acting without doubt is how we make poor decisions.” She fixes me with a matronly smile, “I would propose something to you, and I don’t need an answer today, will you hear it?” She asks softly, keeping a hand on my shoulder.

  I nod, and she continues, “These doubts keep you “human”, if you’ll forgive the turn of phrase, and will be an excellent motivator to prevent these situations from happening at all. Most of Garrick’s deployments are pre-emptive when the seers have identified a likely hotspot. You’ve seen the pain and suffering that can be caused firsthand twice now. All the deaths in that town, all of those memories and dreams snuffed out, but most of all within that man in his final moments. He was living in a cloud of confusion and doubt but still took the option to limit the amount of suffering in the world at his last.

  I believe you have that strength within you, and I should love to try to help you cultivate it. I offer you my services in strengthening your own heart and mind. What is asked of you in the role you are coming to inherit is beyond most people, and I would have you armed as best I can. If you would like that help, you need only come find me in my office at any hour, any time. I won’t judge you if you do, and I won’t judge you if you don’t. But I want you to know the option is there.” She firmly squeezes my shoulder before standing and returning to her side of the desk where she composes herself. Idly, she places another brick on the incense burner, revitalizing the waning smell in the room.

  “I appreciate it Dam- Serafina. I don’t know if I can agree right now, but I will give it serious thought once I'm…better. Thank you.” I hesitate for a moment, gripping the arm of the chair and hearing the leather creak, before taking a risk. “It does get lonely sometimes. Garrick… isn’t the most personable.” I speak the words before thinking and then cover my mouth, looking shocked for a moment. “What I meant is that he’s a good man but—”

  “Oh it’s alright Nyssa, you could say that to his face and he would simply agree with you. Garrick is a great many things, but a people person is not one of them. He is, however, the best Slayer we’ve ever had, and in that, he excels.” The coy smile she gives me when she pauses awakens a very specific part of my brain and I struggle to look away from it, “I understand the loneliness, there's nothing wrong with feeling that. If you ever need to talk about that specifically, I'm happy to hear it any day, any time.” The smile steadily lessens and is replaced with seriousness and professionalism, ”All of that aside, I did have a couple official questions to wrap this up so you can get on your way to the menders.” She says, a professional tone supplanting her prior comforting one quickly, “You’ve made it clear how the situation ended and what you ran into, but can you tell me how you got hurt? Start with when you arrive in the vicinity of the town. I want to hear in your own words how things went down, not in the stuffy language we use for reports.”

  I nod, sit up straight, and begin to tell the tale…