A look of nostalgia filled his eyes for a moment. “Back in my day, of course, we didn’t have all these safety features. They just tossed us into a room with a knife and told us to figure it out.” He shuddered. “Most of us turned into abominations or just exploded. The Failure Garden was much larger back then.”
“That’s... comforting,” I said as he rummaged around in the cabinet.
“Oh, don’t worry! We’ve fine-tuned the process a great deal since then. Now we only lose about one in twenty initiates during rune creation.” He must have seen the look on my face, because he quickly added, “And those are mostly the ones who don’t pay attention to their master’s instructions and try to rush things.”
I couldn’t help but watch as he set the equipment out on a workbench with surprising accuracy for a man who kept blowing his plants up.
“This,” he picked up what looked like a silver pen inlaid with crimson. “This is a resonance stylus. It allows you to mold your energy in more direct patterns without… well, without your arm melting away.” He laughed at my expression. “Just a joke! “Usually, it’s only the fingers that melt.”
“Master,” Azure murmured in my mind, “I don’t think he’s joking.”
Yeah, I didn’t think so either.
“And this,” Elder Molric continued, gesturing at something which appeared to be nothing more than a common potted plant with leaves white as wax, “is a Blank Canvas Lily. Bred over generations for rune practice. Its only purpose is to accept inscriptions and not explode.”
Almost affectionately, the elderly man caressed a white leaf. “The academies used to use ordinary plants. Lost more than a few promising students that way. But these beauties…” His pride unmistakable, he grinned. “Perfectly stable. Well. Mostly stable. Occasionally they develop a conscience and try to walk out of here, but that’s no trouble.”
“And what do I draw on it with?” My eyes flicked to the stylus.
“Ah! Yes!” From the depths of his robe came a small glass vial of crimson liquid. “Resonance ink. Just like blood, but not quite so uh, ah permanent. Perfect for practice.” He paused. “Just be careful you don’t get any in your eyes. That batch of students took weeks to stop glowing!”
I was beginning to understand why the academy required so many liability waivers.
“I have several hundred blank canvas lilies,” he continued, waving a hand at a whole room of white, identical plants, “But I expect… Well, less than thirty attempts should suit your need. You seem…” he looked up and down shrewdly, “unusually stable for an initiate.”
He then brought out another plant, this one with leaves that shifted between crystal and organic matter. “This is a Meridian Lotus. When you feel you are ready with your design, you will use your blood with the stylus to inscribe your final design here. Then simply press it to wherever you wish your Fundamental Rune to appear, and it will merge with your body.”
A thought occurred to me. “Couldn’t someone else create the rune with my blood? Someone else who knows what they are doing?”
“Everyone always asks that!” Elder Molric laughed. “But no. The atmosphere, the energy, must be that of your own red sun. Using another’s energy would just make it incompatible with your body.” His expression darkened. “People have tried. The results were... unfortunate.”
“How unfortunate?” I found myself asking.
“Let’s just say we had to add a new wing to the Failure Garden. In any case, ahem! Now, shall we begin?”
I nodded and lifted the stylus. It felt pleasantly warm in my hand, almost alive.
“Remember,” Elder Molric said, “this first attempt is just for you to see how your energy interacts with the resonance ink. Don’t try too hard with it just yet.”
I took a moment to breathe and called my energy to the stylus. The crimson ink obeyed my will and began to flow.
“Begin with the trunk,” Azure advised. “Follow the Celestial Spiral we went over.”
I pressed the stylus to one of the lily’s leaves, trying my best to maintain steady pressure while tracing the main line. The ink spread freely where I directed it and began to roughly take on the shape of a spiral. But when I tried to maintain the curve...
“Too much energy,” Azure warned, but it was too late for that.
The line flicked jaggedly sideways, ruining the flow of the spiral. If that wasn’t bad enough, the extra energy I had channeled into the ink now gushed out, causing the spirals on the lily to erupt into massive crimson bubbles that defaced my pretty, fresh lily as if it was a child’s finger painting.
“Ah,” Elder Molric murmured. “You have discovered why we work with practice plants,” he said, pointing to the ruined lily, its white leaves now stained by long splashes of crimson. “The resonance ink will act on both pressure and energy. Too much of either…”
“Makes a mess,” I finished, inspecting the mess I had made. At least it hadn’t exploded.
“Indeed. Shorten the stroke for the spiral then. It’s easier to control the energy flow that way,” Elder Molric glanced at a complex sundial by the window. “Actually, I have a class to teach.” He looked pained. “Politics, you understand? They insist all elders do some teaching, no matter what kind of valuable research this wastes. You can imagine…”
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“You don’t like teaching?” I asked, though I could guess the answer.
“Teaching isn’t the problem. The curriculum is!” Elder Molric tossed up his hands in disgust. “So inflexible; so… so limited. Keep to the approved techniques, they insist. Don’t confuse the students with experimental theories! Can you believe that?” His eyes glowed with quiet indignation. “Innovation itself came from questioning established techniques.”
As he headed for the door, still muttering about the inconvenience of teaching, I prepared another lily for my second attempt.
“Let’s consider what went wrong first,” Azure said. “You had a good flow of energy, but you lost it when you tried to maintain the curve.”
I took up the stylus again and nodded. “Shorter strokes then, as he suggested?”
“Yes. How about using the Genesis Seed to see if it might assist you in regulating your energy flow.”
The second attempt was an improvement… until I tried to add the first branch onto the trunk. The angle wasn’t quite right, throwing off the spiral’s harmony. The entire pattern derailed, though at least I avoided some of the ink splatter from before.
Third time: the trunk spiral was nice, but the branches were too stiff, creating jarring angles.
Fourth: better branching, but the leaf motifs at the ends looked like thorns. Not the look I was going for.
“The problem,” Azure commented, during attempt twelve, “is that we’re trying to force it. Look at how the plants grow. They don’t tend to plan their branches; they react to their surroundings.”
That struck a chord. “You’re right… we’re trying to be architects here, when we ought to be gardeners.”
The next attempt, I tried something different. Rather than planning each stroke, I just let my energies flow with the Genesis Seed’s instincts as to how plants grow. The end result was… better, not perfect but better, the pattern had a more organic quality to it.
“Good,” Azure applauded. “Now we just need to balance that natural flow with the structure of the Celestial Spiral.”
More hours were lost as I refined the design.
Each attempt taught me something new:
- Attempt 15 - Too much emphasis on symmetry made it artificial
- Attempt 17 - Not enough structure made it chaotic
- Attempt 19 - Finally found the balance that felt right, but the energy distribution was uneven
- Attempt 22 - Perfect structure, but the flow was blocked at the critical junction points
By attempt 24, I felt it. Everything came together: the mathematics of the spiral, the fluidity of the branches, the resonance of the leaf motifs. As I executed the final stroke it all seemed to click into action.
I sat back and studied my work.
The design was deceptively simple, a central trunk following the Celestial Spiral, with branches extending at key points that corresponded to natural growth patterns. Each branch terminated in a leaf motif that echoed the spiral's curve, creating perfect resonance throughout the entire pattern. It was beautiful.
"Impressive," said Elder Molric, making me jump. I hadn’t heard him return. "The combination of natural growth patterns with geometric precision...quite elegant."
He forced his way nearer to study the pattern. "And you've incorporated subtle reinforcing elements here and here," he pointed to hidden secondary lines which strengthened the main pattern. "Very thoughtful. This design should allow for a great deal of expansion as you advance."
"Thank you, Master."
"Are you ready to create the final version?"
I nodded, though I was nervous.
This was it, the real thing - literally, the pattern that would leave a permanent mark on my body.
Well, “permanent” until I died horrifically or reset the loop, but at least I got to keep the knowledge of how to do it better next time!
Elder Molric handed me a small knife with a blade of crystal and said, “Just a few drops in the ink reservoir. The resonance stylus will mix it with catalysts that make it suitable for inscription.”
He guided me to prick my finger until several drops of bright red blood fell into the chamber of the stylus. The crimson liquid swirled and settled, beginning to take on a faint glow.
“Now,” he said, placing the Meridian Lotus before me, “this has to be perfect. Once the pattern is laid down, you will have mere moments to press it to your skin before the energy dissipates.”
I took a deep breath to calm my nerves and steady myself before touching the stylus to the lotus leaf.
This time everything flowed beautifully. My hand moved with absolute certainty, guided by all the hours of practice as well as my Genesis Seed’s natural empathy with the plant-based pattern. The blood-tainted ink slid from the stylus as though given a mind of its own, going exactly where I wanted it to go.
As I drew the final leaf motif, the entire pattern began to glow crimson and the lines pulsed in time with my heartbeat.
“Now!” barked Elder Molric.
I pressed the leaf to my chest, above my heart. A moment of blinding heat, then a sensation like roots spreading through my entire being as the pattern sank into my skin, becoming one with my body.
Elder Molric let out a long breath I hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.
“What was all that about?” I asked with one eyebrow raised.
He gave a slightly sheepish smile. “The moment of merging… it tells us if the rune… and the body will accept one another or, er…” he made a tiny kaboom gesture with his hands. “Oh, don’t worry,” he added hastily. “The odds of exploding are extremely small, just about three percent!”
“I thought it was a five percent chance of exploding if we didn’t follow instructions,” I reminded him. “You mean even doing everything absolutely perfectly still has a three percent chance of going wrong?”
“Ah.” Elder Molric’s smile had grown a little tight. “The statistics are… complicated. But don’t be alarmed - even the three percent chance is nothing to worry about, I would have removed the rune before any explosion could happen, at worst it would only be a quite painful procedure for you,” he added as an afterthought.
While I hadn't really come close to becoming another addition to the Failure Garden, his attempts to reassure me didn't help my mood.
Still, there was no reason to dwell on what could have happened. So, I turned my focus onto what had actually succeeded. I looked down at my chest and couldn't help but be pleased with our accomplishment...
The Fundamental Rune had ended up looking exactly like I had envisioned it - a silver tree that seemed to be alive under my skin. It curved in a beautiful Fibonacci spiral, and its branches stretched upward and outward in a leafy pattern. The whole design was roughly the size of my palm, and it rested directly above my heart, glowing softly like moonlight on water when it wasn't actively pulsating.
Now I simply had to figure out how to replicate this exact design within my own inner world without using the special tools that allowed me to create it here. That would be the true test.
”Master, the status of this body has changed,” Azure told me.
Before I could respond, Elder Molric hacked a big cough into his arm, interrupting my train of thought.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
Shaking off my interest in my current stats, I closed my eyes and focused on the warmth emanating from the rune.
"It feels like I've always had it. Like it's filled in a part of me that was missing."
"That is exactly how it is supposed to feel," Elder Molric said with a nod of approval. "Your body is already adapting to its new foundation."
"And what is next?" I asked.
"Rest," he said firmly. "Allow your body to completely integrate with the rune. Tomorrow...", he smiled, and I felt a shiver run down my spine, "...tomorrow we will begin your actual training."
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