A Magical Menagerie Masquerade (Part 2-end)

     The House of Wyless boasted the colors of a strong gold, and rich purple. Though it was, after all, called the Masquerade of the Blessed, everyone would be out in their house colors, giving away their identity almost immediately. In his gold and purple finery, Henry felt uncomfortable. Standing in front of his narrow full-length mirror, he couldn't reconcile the image of him as a poor street rat with the reflection before him. This couldn't really be him, could it?
     A whuffling sigh distracted him, and he looked to his new furry friend.
     Upon learning that it was none other than the adopted son of the Wyless family who wanted the cu sith, Bonacarte had expedited everything required for such a beast, and now Forfax was already properly settled in Henry's elegant bedchamber.
     "Oh, don't sigh at me Forfax. I can't help the state I'm in!" Henry lamented. "This is my first such event, and I'm supposed to be on my very best behavior. And look at you! You're green. While your eyes go splendidly with the house colors, green is certainly not a suitable replacement for gold." About to turn his head in exasperation, motion tugged his eyes back just in time to see Forfax's coat ripple as the green seemed to vanish, replaced by golden fur. Henry stared. "I had no idea you could do that." Forfax merely whuffled with purpose at his master, and gave him a large, canine grin.
     Shaking his head in fondness, Henry checked the time, then cursed. It was nearly time to go, and he still had one more thing to do. He straightened his suit in the mirror once more before turning to grab the purple mask on his bed. It was what he would wear that evening, done in the design of a wolf. He carefully arranged the ears so that they appeared to be protruding form his own head, and arranged the snout of it atop the bridge of his own nose.
     Looking at Forfax, he smiled, the lower half of his face still visible. Opening the door, man and beast set out through the extensive hallway network connecting the family manor before arriving at the foyer. Mr. and Mrs. Wyless were already waiting. Andrew Wyless was a Blessed of illusion, while Maura Wyless was a Blessed of creation. They cared not for such social functions, and would not be attending the event, but were sending Henry's trusted valet, Martin. Tearfully, Maura hugged her adopted boy, sending him off with praise, tears, and reminders to be good.
     It was time to become the delight of the social season.
--
     The Blessed were in every direction he looked. While Henry had known the Masquerade of the Blessed was an important event, he had gravely misjudged the size of it. He was surrounded by a buzz of activity, but Martin surreptitiously guided him to the doorman, who straightened up at his podium upon seeing the House Wyless colors. His face paled when he saw the giant beast arriving alongside Henry. Swallowing hard, he kept a wary eye on Forfax, but took Henry's invitation, and gestured he head inside.
     The interior of the room was a dark wood, and various supporting pillars were carved with fantastical designs. The muted light of the chandeliers was subtle, but warm and inviting. Occasionally, a little liquid pearl of light dripped from them, but vanished in mid-air before dropping. A neat trick of craft.And still, there were people everywhere. People milling about, chatting, smiling, laughing, and Henry felt his stomach tighten as he became painfully aware how out of place he was. Everyone at Lesurge had, at the goading of one particular boy, treated Henry as if he was weird, despite his now noble status. No one wanted to associate with him, making him a freak, even though he was in the upper echelon.
     Dancing had already begun, and he could see ladies with jackalopes nesting in their fancy up-dos, and dodo birds cuddling against men's pant legs. It saddened him to see the dismissive attitude the masses seemed to take towards their companion animals, and he reached out to pat Forfax's head, as much to reassure the cu sith as himself. Forfax, sensing his master's distress, nuzzled his head into Henry's hand. Smiling at Forfax, Henry continued making his way into the main ballroom area, Martin remaining along the edges of the room with other personal valets. A central staircase was bathed in bright light as the family holding the masquerade appeared.
     "Greetings, welcome to all! Ladies and gentlemen, Blessed alike." The speaker was an elegant older man, his hair silver but his body still like that of a fit man in his 30s. The Grand Duke smiled as the noise of the crowd died down, and he received undivided attention. "Throughout the evening, we will be accepting nominations for the various costumes you see here. Please, let the organizing staff know so that one very exciting aspect of our party can commence!" With that, he began descending the staircase, and as if it was a signal, everyone fell into a frenzy of hushed whispering. 
     Henry, now frowning, slipped out a set of back doors, avoiding Martin's watchful eye. He wandered through the corridors of the Grand Duke's home until he was alone with Forfax. Removing his mask, he sighed and rubbed at his eyes. "I'd rather no one know who I am here..." Staring at the colors of his suit, Henry let the power within him blossom. It was a quick crafting, not anywhere near his highest level, but it would easily fool the people here. Instead of purple and gold, his suit was now white and silver. No house had those colors. A smile tilted his lips as he slipped the now silver mask back on. Looking to Forfax he grinned, "Come now, Forfax! I know you can do the same."
     It wasn't merely that Forfax was an obliging beast, there was a special connection between the two, and his eyes became silver, his coat white. Andrew and Maura had been insistent that Henry never tell a soul the truth of himself. That he was not simply a Blessed who had power within one spectrum, but had been Blessed with power in every known scope. He was no mere destroyer, creator, transformer, illusionist, or anything else. He was everything. However, the first talent he had discovered was transformation, and it was therefore the one he was formally educated in. When he had met Forfax, he had transformed the mental waves of the cu sith to match his own, then changed their brains just enough to create common communication between them both, internally. It was incredibly delicate work, but it had paid off. Forfax was undeniably smart, one of the reasons he was a fairy dog after all, and he thought with greater efficiency and reasoning than most humans Henry knew. It was why they understood one another so well, and were so willing to care for one another.
     With a nod of satisfaction, Henry led the way back to the ballroom, and let himself relax. Now that he was no longer obliged to the Wyless House colors, he felt at ease. He could be who he was, no automatic assumptions coming from anyone here by the colors he wore. Henry danced many a dance, chatted with the men, and charmed many a lady. All with Forfax by his side. The behemoth of a dog was, funnily enough, quite well-behaved and sneaky. Though he constantly remained at Henry's side, people failed to notice his presence for quite some time, and their startled expressions when realizing what a large beast accompanied Henry was endlessly amusing. After all, the cu sith was not a popular companion, yet the mysterious man with a wolf mask dressed in white and silver, and the dog of snow fur and eerie eyes seemed a perfect fit for one another.
     Hours wore on, and eventually the Grand Duke took the stairs once more. Conversation died down as he cleared his throat.
     "As many of you know, we determine the winners of the contest through a play of skill in their craft. Without further ado, I present the nominated ladies: Lady Amarine, Lady Teruna, Lady Pella, and Lady Millicent." 
     The crowd began to ebb back towards the edges of the remove, creating a wide circle in the center where the four young ladies remained standing. Delicately removing their masks, they all smiled at the cheering crowd. When the applause quieted, the Duke set Amarine against Teruna, and Pella against Millicent. When it was clear that Teruna and Millicent were the respective winners of their battles, they faced one another. Ultimately, Lady Teruna emerged as the victor. There was a grand show made of the young lady's prize; a delicate filigree crown of pure silver, sparkling in the light. He placed it a top her head and everyone gushed, cheered. Henry followed suit, but was curious as to what the prize meant, not realizing it was merely a decorative fun thing.
     The Duke cleared his throat again, "This year we have, ah, received only two nominations for the men's costumes. Our first nominee, Sir Barclay. Our second nominee..." The Duke's brow furrowed, "The masked man in white and silver." Henry, shocked, found himself jostled forward, Forfax by his side, and placed across from the same man who had made his life hell as a young boy. At Lesurge, it had been due to Barclay's goading that Henry was outcast. Barclay had been in his age group, and never forgiven him for rising from street rat to an upper-class aristocrat. Of course, Barclay had no idea he stood across from Henry, no idea he was standing before the boy turned man that he had so viciously tormented as a child. With an insincere smile to Henry, Barclay removed his mask. The women all made fluttering noises of appreciation. Standing still, Henry made no move to remove his. Pandering to the crowd, Barclay looked around and shrugged his shoulders.
     "So be it!" Barclay returned his focus to Henry, "Let's begin."
      These shows of skill were reminiscent of duels. They were not meant to be dangerous, merely enjoyed, but Henry didn't trust Barclay to play fair. This proved correct when a snake of fire suddenly lunged at his face from the ground. There was a gasp from the crowd, but with a quick flick of wrist, the snake became water, and he kicked through it, dissolving the spell. It was only then that Martin realized it was Henry in the white and silver. It was only then he recognized Sir Barclay as a Blessed of destruction.
     Barclay smiled and inclined his head, as if acknowledging his opponent's skill. But just as quickly as he smiled, a barrage of destructive power surged forward, heading for an assault on Henry. Seeing that Barclay was not taking this as a childish, playful activity, the Grand Duke began shouting out, trying to call things into order. Despite Henry skillfully neutralizing the spells, the crowd was growing anxious and distressed at the ordeal. Many wondered if they should simply leave now. Full blown duels between two Blessed tended to have a large amount of collateral casualties.
     Then, Barclay did something no one would have thought he had the complete audacity to do. He sent out the most dangerous and powerful spell of the destructive craft. Henry was enveloped in flame, as if he was a living fireball. This spurred Forfax to action, and the snow white dog snarled as he charged Barclay. With a flippant manner, Barclay sent a harsh spell barreling into Forfax's side, and sending the cu sith into one of the pillars, where he slowly sank to the ground and lay panting, whining. His side was badly scorched, and his eyes had gone glassy.
     Somewhere, inside of the fireball, Henry screamed.
     Time stopped. It was craft, but one that no one could counter. In fact, it was also the craft of the Grand Duke, the reason he had such a position of power in the first place. He was the only one immune to the craft, and as soon as he noticed the standstill, he searched the frozen flames for signs of life. An unscathed man with a silver wolf mask and silver and white suit stepped out from it, hatred and rage visible in the dark eyes peeking out of the mask. He gently shuttered the flames down, and walked to Barclay. Time resumed, and Henry punched the offending man straight in the face. Barclay staggered and fell immediately, blood gushing from his face.
      But Henry didn't care. He flung his mask down to the ground, and ran to his dog, tears welling in his eyes. "Damn it!" The anguished cry seemed to be the only noise in the entire room. Everyone had fallen into a stunned silence, no one understanding quite what had happened beyond Barclay committing an atrocious act against a man no one knew. The Grand Duke roused them into action.
     "Get the healers to that beast, NOW!"
     The Blessed elite immediately began falling back into organized chaos, some running to spread the news, others to arrange for the beast's care, others to get authority for detaining Barclay. Martin slipped quietly out of the room to get Henry's parents while the Grand Duke quietly picked his way over to Henry, who had his hands on Forfax's scorched side, angry tears slipping down his face, despite how hard he fought to hold them in. The Grand Duke realized as he neared that Henry was talking to himself.
     "...and never practiced your damn healing magic, what were you thinking? Idiot, idiot, idiot! Should have known it would be helpful to actually get good at healing, after all, if you can do it you should probably learn to utilize it..." He trailed off when the Duke's boot entered his line of sight. He lifted his head up, staring into the gentle eyes of the Grand Duke.
     "Don't worry lad, I'll not tell a soul. Not even about your trick of time back there." Color flooded Henry's cheeks, but the Duke shook his head, "A promise is a promise, I have my own honor to care for. Besides, you seem to be stabilizing your pet at least."
     Henry looked back down and found the soft glow of healing magic ponderously squirming over Forfax's side. The cu sith let out a soft huff of air and closed his eyes, but still breathing. Henry looked at his pet, pain and despair etched on his face. "It'll be alright, Forfax. Just hang in there."
     A lady dropped to her knees on Henry's other side, startling both men. She was now completely ruining her fine gown, but what did it matter with her tears already having made a mess of her makeup? Looking at Forfax, she whispered, "I'm Alice. Please, let me help, I'm a healer." Healing craft was incredibly rare, but it did pop up. The Blessed healers were all segregated from the other Blessed, kept in a safe, nurturing place where their gifts could grow. They were empathetic individuals, rarely out of sight from their keepers, but it seemed this Lady Alice had gotten away.
     Slowly pulling away his hands, he watched with fascination as she put her hands where his had once been. Closing her eyes, she hummed softly under her breath.
     "What's his name?" Lady Alice asked.
     "Forfax."
     Eyes still closed, she nodded to herself, and he could hear snippets of softly sung song, catching Forfax's name in it. His breathing strengthened, the burn beginning to heal. Tissue scarred over before his eyes, and before two minutes had passed, Forfax opened his eyes and struggled to stand.
     "Oh, no. No, no, no. He mustn't sit up, not yet. He'll be tired now, healing does that to a patient," Lady Alice fretted, attempting to halt the cu sith's clumsy progress but not having the strength.
     "Let me," Henry murmured, overlapping her hands and arms. She withdrew, her eyes glued on Henry as he slowly forced the cu sith back down, quietly speaking to his beast with a smile. Then he turned back to her. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I can't... I can't even... How can I ever repay your kindness?"
     Furious blush spread across her cheeks, the shy Alice now scooting back a bit. "Uhm, no, no, there's no need for that, uhm, Sir Wyless..." It was then that the Grand Duke came to the same realization about the young man before him; this was Henry Wyless. Barclay had picked a fight with the beloved, adopted son of the most powerful family around. He was an unimaginably gifted boy, and now the Duke knew, gifted to even greater heights.
     Henry shook his head, "No, I insist. Please. Look, you didn't treat me any differently when I was the man in silver and white. Please...don't start now..." It was the strange mist of painful memories across his eyes that caused Alice to reluctantly nod her head.
     "W-well, see...I don't really need anything really. Not really."
     "You're here with someone then?"
     "Well now, I...uhm... I snuck out here."
     "Aha!" Henry grinned, "I knew there was no way a healer of your caliber would be out of sight. But you're clearly the adventurous sort. Let me repay you by taking you on more adventures, eh?"
     Alice's eyes widened slightly, "Wow, that's, uhm...that's...very generous of you, Sir Wyless."
     "It's just Henry, no need to be formal. After all, you saved my cu sith's life."
     "R-right...and I'm just Alice."
     It was then that a distraught Andrew and Maura Wyless were led by faithful Martin to their son. Immediately, he was surrounded in a torrent of activity, the man and wife demanding answers of the Grand Duke, Alice cast to the background. She quietly slipped away from the reunited family, knowing she had to hurry back to the healer's manor.
     When next Henry looked, she was already gone.
--
     Several long days passed. What felt like eternity.
     The events of the masquerade were recalled by a variety of sources, an angry and enraged Maura Wyless making the city feel her rage. Henry was put into isolation, but didn't mind since it let him look after Forfax, who was steadily becoming himself once more. The Grand Duke had long meetings with the Wyless family about their son of many talents. He was, in a way, brought into the know, sworn by Blessed oath to keep it a secret, lest the oath's magic kill him.
     But Henry hadn't shirked his other duties. Martin was faithfully looking into discovering who the mysterious Alice who helped Forfax was. And at the healer's manor, Alice let go of her hope that he would fulfill his promise.
--
     There was a knock on the door.
     Alice opened it, somewhat confused at what anyone would want with her.
     Henry stood, leaning against on side of the doorframe, Forfax sitting behind him, a ridiculous, charming grin on his face. "Ready for an adventure?"

A Man of Graveyards

     In the graveyard, he was close to silence. The dead had no thoughts swirling through their minds; they had no impulses running through their veins. They were full of embalming fluid and sawdust. It was the nearest to silence he would ever find, and he treasured each moment of it. This propensity for visiting graveyards was what Cailtin Richards chose to exploit.
     He hadn't heard them coming, as he had finally relaxed for once. He was alone with his own thoughts, and that meant he could daydream. The thoughts of animals were often too fast-paced and erratic for his mind to really latch onto, though he could if driven to desperation. Enjoying a fall breeze on a bench beneath deciduous trees that had gone to hues of yellow, orange, and red, his mind had drifted to the Edges. It wasn't until the cold tip of a gun barrel pressed itself to the back of his neck that his eyes opened, and everything flooded in
     -shit, shit, shit, I'm just a rookie, I can't be up against guys like this, and -- no place to run, no place to hide, what now smart -- darkness, death, despair, fire and flames and destruction and ohgodohgodohgod-
     It was the last wave of thoughts that he chose to focus on. The mind of someone in the grips of full blown terror. He mentally reached out, stroked his power along their brain waves, and settled them. Shhh, his power seemed to whisper, shh, everything is okay. There was a gasp from the side. His eyes finally focused on the moment, and a multitude of SWAT men and women appeared in front of him, tactical guns drawn and focused on him. His peripheral vision processed several different well-dressed men and women, likely of differing agencies, and one who had a tight grip on a teenage boy. The boy's eyes were wide, stared straight at him, and though he couldn't hear the words, he could hear the thoughts that accompanied the words, and read the boy's lips.
     "He did it!" He actually did it! "He heard what I was projecting and completely washed it away in a calming tide." How, how did he do that?! "This is him, this is definitely him." I can't believe it.
     The softest breath of a sigh escaped him, his body going limp on the bench. The tip of the gun dug deeper against his neck, a harsh voice grunting,
     "Don't try anything funny, I'll blow your fucking spine out, got it?"
     There was no answer to that question, there couldn't be one. After a moment, a female agent stepped between the line of SWAT, and raked her eyes over him. She wasn't overly average, but possessed a normal height and weight, her sharp blazer hiding the firm muscles of her arms, and the flared slacks she wore disguising her slender legs. Her gold-brown hair was swept back into a very efficient, tight bun. Her bright brown eyes were judgmental and harsh, filled with unpleasant memories that had taken their toll. She crossed her arms over her chest, and raised on exquisite eyebrow at him.
     "So, you're the famous telepath, huh? Don't look like much to me."
     His eyes strayed down to his body, to his ratty tan duster, rumpled slacks, wrinkled and stained green dress shirt. He looked back up at her and shrugged, "I think I look alright."
     "Yeah, well, the commonwealth would disagree. Do you know how this goes Mr. Lewis, or do I need to explain it to you."
     "No," a soft sigh breathed out of him, "I know how you want it to go."
     The SWAT team, the agents, the teenage boy even, all fell to the ground simultaneously. The female agent's lips widened slightly, her hand darting to her sidearm, but it was too late. He had her mind in his grip, and her movements stilled. She was the only one awake, the only one conscious. He stood slowly, brushed off his pants and straightened his coat. Walking closer to her, he stopped in front of her and shook his head. He stepped around her, but paused when his body was parallel to hers.
     "Caitlin Richards - that is your name, isn't it? - you have no idea what you're getting into. Chasing me is dangerous, but I'm not the one you should be concerned about, because when you chase me, you will find many dark, unfathomable things follow me already." His head dipped slightly, a creeping sad smile turning up one corner of his mouth, "You want to make an impression on the WIA, I understand, but this isn't the way. Finding me is one thing, and arresting me is another. But removing me from my current location is a thing that would lead to pain and suffering for millions. Not by my hands, I assure you. Please, take care Caitlin. Good day."
     With that, he continued to walk. For twenty minutes, she remained frozen, and everyone around her remained unconscious. When they began to groan and rouse themselves, sitting up with pain in their limbs and ringing in their ears, Caitlin Richards turned her head to look at the space he had walked through. Her mind was reeling, and she determined then that she needed to know more about Mr. Lewis.

Cotard Syndrome - A Fictional Account

     My name is David True.
     I'm dead.
     Not dead in the traditional sense. I'm not a zombie or reanimated corpse. It's just, one day I woke up and realized I was dead.
     It all started about a year ago. See, I tried to kill myself. It wasn't anything personal against the world, I just didn't really want to live anymore. Well, it's more complicated than that, it always is, but this isn't a story about how I got to where I was then. It's about how I got to being dead. So it started with when I was found in my bathtub by a nosy neighbor, life swirling away down the drain. Police officers, ambulance, lots of flashing lights. It was kind of surreal, the hustle and bustle going on that seemed to be at hyper speed. The voices speaking but seeming to far away, so slow and tedious. Then the oxygen mask, the dullness of my forearms.
     I got out of course. They patched me up and sent me off to get my brain repaired. I did, to some degree, and then I went home. Three days later I woke up and realized I no longer had a brain, that I was dead.
     Again, my nosy neighbor couldn't stay away, and found me slowly wasting away on the couch. I wasn't really wasting yet, but I had stopped eating, stopped cleaning myself, stopped everything. I was dead, y'know? What was the point? I asked him to just take me to the mortuary, that I wanted to be with other dead people, but instead he called 911. Again.
     This time, I got escorted by police, no ambulance for me. They kept looking at me like I was crazy, with a weird sort of bemusement. My brain was just gone. I knew, I knew my brain was no longer in my skull, but they refused to believe me.
     "David, how can you be dead if you're talking to me right now?" The psychiatrists asked. I tried to explain it to them as well. Eventually they got fed up, frustrated. Hey, I was frustrated too! I didn't know how I could be walking, talking, breathing with no brain, but I knew I didn't have one. Let the experts figure it out! Eventually, phone calls were made. That was when Dr. Mulligan came into the picture.
     Mulligan ordered a PET scan of my brain and set to work. A barrage of tests came before the PET, but that was the scan that convinced them I had a point. After all, it turned out I had metabolic activity in my brain comparable to someone in a vegetative state. Mind you, I'm fairly certain I don't have a brain, but everyone else seems convinced that I do. Mulligan told me I was a phenomenon. Apparently my brain function resembles that of someone asleep, or under anesthesia, but I'm awake. Me? I'm pretty sure I'm dead.
     They've been pumping me full of drugs since them, keep putting me into this or that therapy They're forcing me to live in a psych ward. The last time they let me go home, I just went back to how I was. I'm dead! There's no point in eating or moving or grooming anymore. But they keep on trying, say they'll get me back to functioning soon enough. I'm tired of being force fed though. Tired in general.
     What I don't understand is, why am I the only one who knows I'm dead?