The speech drags on for a while. The usual spiel about taxes and benefits and the troops. You know this rigmarole by heart. Anne, of course, eats it up. This is what she came for the day you met her, and she still hasn't had her fill. Granted, father is inspirational as all hell. You could practically recite the speech yourself at this point, but you decide not to burst her bubble. It's not worth a fight, and it's not like you actually disagree with anything your father is saying, either. Sometimes he even manages to deliver on parts of it. More than can be said for other leaders.
Soon enough his announcement concludes to a standing ovation, and the mingling begins once again, in force. Most of the guests begin filtering outdoors, where the band, Killers In My Eyes, is beginning to play their set. "Wanna go watch the show?" Anne's a big fan. You know that much. Their most popular song is her ringtone. But this is a formal occasion, and you're still a Barlowe. Prioritize.
"You should come meet the rest of my family first." You scan the room. Already, the youngest of the Barlowe clan have been hustled out to the children's play area. Can't have them getting in the way of grown up business. Your father's already rubbing elbows, getting an early jump on fundraising no doubt. Your elder sisters are already working the room, introducing themselves to anyone who'll give them an ear. Plenty do. Being so closely associated with the Archaens has that effect. Your younger sisters are doing much the same, albeit with less finesse and mixed results. Simon's seemingly gone outside already, and you're not sure where your mother is. She could literally be anywhere on earth. And then, of course, there's the outlier.
Richard. He's isolated at the edges of the party, keeping to himself. Before the speech, his daughter, Emma, had been attempting to show him a book. She made as much progress with him as you've made in your pathetic attempts to learn magic. He may as well be a stranger to her. Her father's attitude was clearly wearing on the little girl's usually bottomless enthusiasm. She's gone somewhere else by now. Playing with the other young ones, probably. You're not sure if you can bring yourself to just let it go, though. Time to kill two birds with one stone. You drag Anne along to make the introduction.
"Richard!" you wave to him as you approach.
"Terrence," smooth as a worry stone, he turns to address you. He's really the only one who calls you that. "It's been three years and eight months."
There's no follow up to that. Just as the pause in the conversation is starting to grow awkward, you wrap an arm around your girlfriend's waist and pull her forward. "So, this is Anne Thompson."
"Hello, Anne." Richard responds with small nod of recognition. He shakes her hand formally.
"Hi, Terry's told me all about you." Anne says from your side.
She seems a bit shy. Not at all like her normal self. Usually, she's the gung-ho extrovert. Not so much here. The soldier is ill at ease. Perhaps she's intimidated? Not out of the question. Both your mother and Richard are considered A-rank mages. There's only 100 or so of their rank in the entire world. Many know their names and faces by heart. You never bothered. On the other hand Anne is ranked as a solid C mage, and there are hundreds of thousands mages who share her designation. That shouldn't matter, but it does. Power dynamics play a significant role in the interplay between mages of all stripes, especially upon initial contact. Something about the interplay of Auras. Should have expected this.
Another pause. You bite back a sigh, and power through, "So, how's life on the Frontier?"
"I'm well. My work keeps me busy. All my needs are met adequately, however I agreed to an NDA with regards to the station. Going into any further detail might invoke the more stringent aspects of the contract."
"Ah, I should have guessed." It's your turn to flounder and nod. The Frontier is the name of humanity's biggest and best magically augmented space station. In geosynchronous orbit above Sydney, Austrailia, it is presided over by the S-Rank mage, Nya Dran. Only the best of the best, or at least the wealthiest of the wealthy, are allowed entry into the exclusive retreat. Absolutely nothing is known of what goes on within. Nya Dran is very good at keeping secrets.
You watch your older brother for a few moments. He's tall and strong. Takes after your mother rather than your father. His black eyes are sharp. Always fascinated by magic and extremely diligent in his studies, he'd nevertheless been a great older brother. Brave and kind and compassionate. Samantha filled the void where mother should have been, but Richard was the one you turned to whenever you needed help.
Then Bethany had passed. That had been hard. You loved the woman dearly. She'd been warm and gentle. You'd known her well. The whole family had. She was a Medium, and a rising star at Daedalus. Some of her research still serves an important role in their work there. Losing her still hurts. But, her death ripped something precious out of your brother. Richard quit his work at Daedalus and left for Frontier a month later. He's only visited Emma a handful of times since then.
This is only your second time seeing him since Bethany's funeral all those years ago. And he's changed. There's some grey in his dark hair. His eyes look at you almost like you're a stranger. Still, he's your big brother, right? You really do want to take him to task for all but abandoning his daughter, but you're not going to do that in front of others, not even Anne.
The silence does turn awkward now. A few moments later Richard speaks, "Anne, you're in the IRT? I believe father said something to that effect." She nods. "Dangerous work. Necessary work. Even with father's reforms, casualty rates are still north of 8% yearly, yes?" Your jaw sets angrily. The notion of Anne dying in combat already keeps you up at night. More than you already would be. He continues, "I would like to help."
"How?" Anne asks with a raised eyebrow.
He leans forward slightly. "Material assistance. I have a number of associates who wish for their advancements to receive field testing. Of course, I won't go into details until you sign a proper non-disclosure agreement, but despite the experimental nature of the equipment, it is still far better than anything you can afford surface side."
"Anne's not going to be your guinea pig, Rick." You fume. He'd always been like this. Wanting to test out his newest toys and theories on others, and oftentimes, you'd been the willing test subject. On more than one occasion, such recklessness resulted in Doctor Medheave paying an emergency housecall. You'd still enjoyed being included in something, but this is different. You continue, "I'm not going to let you and your friends play with her life." your girlfriend's hair flares out as she turns to glare at you.
"Terrence, perhaps you should let Anne make up her own mind?" He says placidly. " I'm talking about protecting her life. Usually this type of gear is limited to the 'A-listers'. It's not some mass-produced body armor. I can tell you that."
Indeed, Anne looks genuinely interested. The prospect of top-flight equipment excites her. Never mind the strings attached. She turns back to Richard, "Couldn't hurt to talk about it. After all, you guys must be cooking up something great to afford a fucking space city."
"Good," Richard replies, "a representative from Frontier will find you on the morrow. He'll have more details. I think you'll be satisfied."
That's the end of that discussion. Not much you can do. No doubt you'll have an argument with Anne later. And no doubt, she'll ignore your warnings. You don't like losing, you hate it, but you're used to it. Such is the lot of a blank.
There's a bit of a lull in the conversation, and you're all too happy to let it sit there this time. Killers In My Eyes play further into their set. Anne gives you a quick peck on the cheek, and then she's off to enjoy the concert.
Uncomfortable moments tick by, and then you decide to man up and talk about what you really want to say, "You're a pretty shit dad, you know that, right?"
"What would you know about it?" Richard asks evenly, though his eyes flash with the first real emotion you've seen from him in years.
"I know that a child needs her father." You say heatedly. "I know that I'm the one who reads to her and tucks her in at night. I get to lie and cover for your sorry ass. Tell her that her daddy is off playing hero. Emma deserves a lot more. That's what I know."
He clenches his teeth. Some of the old Richard is spilling out. "Easy for you to say. You've never suffered or had to work for anything. Mother and father and everyone else give you everything. Emma is none of your concern. She is looked after and provided for. I take care of my obligations. She's destined for greatness, and no doubt will face things you can scarcely imagine. Do not presume to understand her or judge me."
"What happened to you?" You ask venomously.
"I grew up. Hope you'll never have to, little brother." And then he's gone.
You let out a angry breath. You're shaking with rage.
You stride furiously through the mansion. Guests from the EU squawk as you press through them. A contingent of mages from South America try to hail you. Not interested. Someone's making an impassioned plea for aid to those suffering in Africa and in Asia. The nuclear and magical fallout from the war between India and Pakistan is still fresh on many a mind. Not your problem.
You text Anne to let her know where you've gone. Hope she enjoys the band. But, you are exhausted. Need to find somewhere to rest, somewhere you can catch your breath. There's a particularly comfortable sofa in a side room. You nod to guests as you leave the public area of the mansion and move into the private section reserved for only the Barlowes and their closest friends.
As soon as you sit, you're asleep. No dreams, as usual. Only restless oblivion.
Cold.
Wet.
Eyes open. Stinging. White light. Can't look away.
Breathe. Something down your throat. Metal and water.
Listen. Dead silence. Can't even hear the beating of your own heart.
Move. Can't. Something between gel and water encases your entire body. Naked.
Pain. Pulsating and knifing. You scream and try to writhe in agony. Can't move, can't make noise, can't even blink. The viscous material holding you prisoner vibrates. Seeps into and through your skin. Nets of fire lash through your entire body. No words. Suffering. Agony. Torture. Doesn't even begin to describe it.
Your mind tries to shut off. Can't. Won't. Clarity makes everything so much worse.
Every facet of your body, down to the bone and even deeper, has fiery hot nails hammered deep. Someone, something pulls. There is a cut. Resistance. Hunger. Devour. The vibration stops for a heartbeat. You collapse in on yourself. You know you're going to die.
The light grows brighter and brighter until your eyes are nearly seared from your skull. The vibration returns. The seismic shifting of the world itself. The very facets of you are penetrated, violated, and pulled apart. A tug of war. Hunger wars against Purpose. The light goes out. And you begin to come undone.
Something other is cut.
Death and oblivion are there.
In absence of the void, life and power well up within you. Your body is porous. Power clings and cloaks your form. Your mind nearly shatters as heightened sensations cascades over your perception like a stampede of elephants. A new awareness cuts a blazing furrow through the blighted wasteland that was your awareness. Once you were blind. Now, you see.
The shackles of this place still hold you. No more. You move. Get away from here. You're moving faster than thought.
Glass shatters. You see dozens and dozens of tubes like the one you just escaped, lining a cavernous space. Lesser, dormant power echoes your own in each vestibule. The glowing white liquid begins to pour out onto the clinically clean floor. You just have time to note a sign in Portugese before everything explodes. The lab is gone as the shockwaves of your movement annihilate everything in sight. Sonic booms buffet your form.
Heat and noise and chaos. None of it touches you.
Moments later you stand in the middle of a crater nearly a quarter mile wide. Above, you see the steel towers of a bustling metropolitan area. Dust is heavy in the air, but a new sense pierces the veil of particles.
Is this what your family feels all the time?! You're a wizard, Terry! Everything before this moment was drab and dull.
Your attention diverts from the ruined surroundings to a being directly before you.
You are not alone. You've never been alone. You know that now.
What do you see? (Only others with a shade—somehow, you know that there are others—or those with specialized equipment will be able to detect this being.)
[] Hydra-
Your shade can lay eggs inside of any living being with sufficient magical energy, which will hatch into larvae that consume their host's from the inside out, gaining a measure of its strength and taking on some of its characteristics. The full-grown offspring will require constant feeding, either by your aura or external sources. They can be trained and organized, and can even consume their siblings to grow further. Initially, these hatchlings will defer to you, however you will have to work to retain their loyalty.
[] Basilisk-
Your shade can possess other living creatures. It will inhabit others' bodies until there is not sufficient magical energy to sustain it. As a passive observer, it will use up minimal energy from its host and remain extremely difficult to detect. At a cost to yourself, you may experience the host's own perceptions. When trying to actively influence the target, it will eat through magic at an increased rate. Likelihood of detection will be a certainty. Assuming direct control will cost varying vast amounts of aura, with the exact amount based on the potency and proximity of the target. Whenever it has no host, you'll need to find something else to feed it…
[] Phoenix-
Your shade absorbs and retains portions and pieces of magic with which it has extended contact. The time it interacts with a piece of magic can determine its agency in using that magic. Its power is a significant drain on you, and the number and potency of abilities it can retain is directly dependent on the state of your aura. It will directly commandeer a portion of your mind for itself in order to ply its abilities, so the capability of the shade to use its purloined magic will be directly proportional to your own level of skill.
