“Now you get it. And, believe me, you’ll be ecstatic to have a few extra points once your multiplier gets high enough. There are a few other benefits too, once you’ve gotten to the point your Issi don’t have to replace any processes and can focus on empowerin’ you, but those are pretty far out for you.”

“Yeah. Okay. What do I need to do?”

“You ain’t gonna be able to do anything for a long while. We gotta build up your body so that it can stand on its own without Issi, and that’s gonna be a huge problem for someone who’s neglected their physical health for so long like you.”

“Can we start now?”

“Easy there. You don’t quite understand just how much worse it’s gonna be without your Issi. Or maybe you do, since you were feelin’ it when I found you against that tree earlier.” Prisoner sat down next to Metea/Irric on a stool that materialized out of nowhere. “Alright. Let’s start you off with standin’ on your own for a whole five minutes. Think you can do that?”

“Of course I can.” Sechen said defiantly. “But shouldn’t I do something harder? Like lifting something heavy or running for a while?”

“This’ll be plenty hard, sister.” Prisoner chuckled. “You probably won’t even last the whole five minutes. I’m bettin’ you’ll keel over closer to three.”

“You’ll lose that bet.” Sechen grumbled.

Prisoner spread his hands in an unsaid go ahead, his eyes locked on Sechen with a cocky grin on his face. She couldn’t wait to wipe that grin away once Prisoner saw just how long she could stand without her Issi, but a voice in the back of her mind told her that just standing wasn’t really an accomplishment; it was like giving someone kudos for breathing. Which, she realized, might not be simple when she was Issi-less. In fact, everything would probably be a struggle. Which would make just standing an ordeal, since her legs barely had any muscle, her lungs were probably near useless, and even her heart was most likely weak. And what if she couldn’t even think right without Issi anymore?

“What are you waitin’ for?” Prisoner asked. “Get on with it.”

“I am.” Sechen said. She spun up her Issi and focused on making more rings around Gilt and Metea/Irric, but Prisoner grabbed her by the wrist before she could empty her container.

“Whoa there, what are you doin’? You don’t need to bottom out to cut off your container.”

“I knew that.” Sechen said quickly, shaking off Prisoner’s grip and planting her hands on her hips.

“Of course you did, sister. But how about I tell you anyway, as a refresher? That sound good to you?” Prisoner offered.

“Yeah. As a refresher.” Sechen nodded. “Because I already know how to do that.”

Prisoner chuckled and held up his hands. “Alright, alright. So roundin’ back to what I said earlier, your container’s only connected to the rest of your body by those thin pathways. And you can cut off it’s access to your Issi by sealin’ your container up tight by usin’ the same techniques you use to gather Issi and includin’ yourself in the harvest. Then once you’ve drained your pathways dry, hold everythin’ in your container with your force of will and you’ll be workin’ without Issi empowerin’ you for as long as you can hold it.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“Because it is easy. Give it a try, and you’ll see.”

Sechen side-eyed Prisoner as she let out a sigh, closing her eyes as she focused on her container. She felt her headspace in the back of her mind, an omni-present distraction that had always gotten in the way of anything she’d tried to do for the last few years. She heard Prisoner mutter something about closed eyes and real fights, but she ignored him. She felt the almost imperceptible pathways running parallel to her veins, dispersing Issi to each and every part of her body, but now she also felt where that Issi was going. And the thought of draining those pathways suddenly scared her.

There were countless lines of Issi culminating in her brain, which she hadn’t even thought of as a possibility before. Which meant that she’d been neglecting her brain as well as her body, and that she had no idea what would happen when she turned off her Issi. A harsh reminder that her brain wasn’t in very good shape to begin with, with large portions of it no longer grey matter but luminescent brickwork carved into the proper lobes to replace what was lost a long ago, specifically in the front. And it was all connected by those Issi pathways.

“Havin’ second thoughts?” Prisoner asked, but it wasn’t in his usual half-antagonistic voice. Sechen heard real concern in those words. “It’s fine if you’re not ready. But if you’re worried about exactly what I think you are, you don’t need to be. That Issi is as much a part of you as the rest of your organs, and it works exactly like them. You’ve got some of it in pretty much every vital organ, and though I have no clue how it got there, it won’t turn off or disappear because you blocked off your container.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Sechen said in a shaky voice. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Alright. Okay.” Sechen rattled off, stalling for time while she hyped herself up. “Doing it now.”

“I’ll be right here in case you can’t stand on your own.”

Sechen nodded and took in a long, shaky breath, then raised her palms to the sky. She imagined the Issi around her condensing into twin rings just above her hands, shining in a myriad of colours as they took in all the different Issi types around her. The light that crashed into her closed eyelids seemed to be monotone in colour, however, and the Issi gathering in her rings felt almost pure enough to be taken in as is, so Prisoner must have done something again. She silently thanked him for taking away one small source of stress, then brought her perception of gathering inwards. It felt as if all of her strength was leaving her in that moment, and her thoughts came disturbingly slower. She almost lost her grip on her collection technique, but a cough from Prisoner brought her back into the moment. Her legs felt wobbly and weak under her, as if they would snap at any moment just from holding up the rest of her. And her arms had fallen to her sides at some point, no longer able to remain outstretched.

“Open your eyes, sister.” Prisoner said, and Sechen felt her stomach drop at the smooth, emotionless calm in his voice. It was the kind of voice you used on someone who wasn’t going to make it. “You need to see how your life’s been treatin’ you.”

Sechen cracked one eye open, and the glint of silver shone back at her. But something else was wrong, adding onto everything else that was wrong with her. Everything was beyond blurry, like smudges of colour painted onto a solid blue and brown backdrop. She opened her eyes fully and stared into what seemed to be a mirror, a misshapen smudge of emerald green and pale skin staring back at her. She tried to speak, but couldn’t find her voice. After a few coughs she managed to scrape out something that sounded closer to an old smoker’s whispers than her own voice.

“Is this me?”

Prisoner cleared his throat, then spoke carefully. “This is the you who’s been neglectin’ herself for only you know how long. And now we’ll start on a rehabilitation program to slowly get you into a healthy place where it’s safe to start buildin’ up your pathways.”

“How am I supposed to make this,” Sechen gestured at herself in disgust, a motion that left her arms hanging at her sides from the exertion, “any better? I look like a skeleton wrapped in skin.”

“The same way anythin’ gets done; one step at a time.” Prisoner said, snapping his fingers to dispel the silver mirror. “And we’ll need to start with your legs and back, so they can support everythin’ else you’ll need to do. I’ll brace them with my Issi and get some exercises laid out that won’t put too much stress on them, then we’ll work up to bigger and better things. Oh, and you’ll be eating every meal without your Issi empowerin’ you.”

“And this will make me stronger?” Sechen weezed. She was out of breath just from standing, and her lungs were starting to burn. Her vision started spinning, everything blurring together into one solid colour.

“Careful, careful!” Prisoner hissed, shooting up and grabbing Sechen under the arms to prevent her from crumbling to the ground. “Well, that was my bad. I shouldn’t have pushed you…” Prisoner paused, and Sechen saw a smile creep onto his face. “Nevermind, sister. You’ve got fire in your gut. Since you’re super weak right now, I’ll help you get started. After a few weeks of this, you should be able to do your exercises on your own, and a few months after that we’ll get started on makin’ your pathways and saturation better.”

“A few months?” Sechen croaked, accepting Prisoner’s help to lie on a slightly raised table. It was freezing cold on her skin, and she realized her Issi was protecting her from far more than she’d known.

“That’s if this all goes well, and your body wants to get better.” Prisoner explained. “Do you want to change your clothes before we start? I’m goin’ to be stimulatin’ the muscles in your legs, and I’d understand if you wanted pants on for that.”

“I’m wearing shorts under this already.” Sechen said, her breaths coming slightly easier now that her legs weren’t under all that strain.

Prisoner shrugged, gently grabbing Sechen by the foot and under her right knee. “I was askin’ for your sake, but if you’re comfortable then that’s fine. This’ll be uncomfortable for quite a long while, and you gotta bear the discomfort, but if it ever becomes painful you tell me right away. You’ve gotta work through the pain on your own time, but for now, pain means I’m doin’ somethin’ wrong.”

Prisoner lifted Sechen’s leg in a motion that resembled the stretches she’d seen Metea/Irric doing sometimes, bringing it up close-ish to her chest before slowly lowering it back down. Prisoner was right in that it was supremely uncomfortable, but it didn’t hurt quite yet. Sechen let her head rest on the cold metal table, staring at the sky as the discomfort of Prisoner’s stretches combined with a newfound exhaustion from simply existing lulled her into an almost-sleep.