“Your back... Tiberius...” Alex looked down at one her oldest teachers. The man who had taught her how to use a spear to make up for her slender frame and lack of power, compensating with precision and grace. She could scarcely believe what she was seeing, that rock of a man subdued by an illness, looking many years beyond his natural age. All wrapped up in those white sheets.

The bridge light of the medicinal ward did him no favors, either.

Tiber's face was gray and pallid. A side effect of the anesthetic that kept him from falling into endless agony, barely lucid. “Lady Alexis...” He groaned, trying his best to smile. “You'll forgive me if I do not bow. And what a beautiful young woman you've grown into.”

“Tiberius...” She repeated, choking back the tears. Seeing him like this was far outside of her expectations, but she had a job to do. Or at least... She'd been given an objective, but... “Tyr... You know I can't fix a degenerated spine like this. Nobody can, if we could – Micah would walk again. And I'm not a healer...”

“Not exactly.” Tyr frowned, it had actually gotten worse than he'd expected. Tiber wasn't likely to die, but he wasn't getting better, either. Their only option would be to remove the mass of liquid around his spinal column that was halting his body from entering a state of recovery. But if he recovered, there'd be no walking for him. Tiber would forever remain a cripple, numb from the hips down.

Tyr had asked him if this was okay, and of course the old man had already deemed himself ready to accept such a thing, even with all that fear in his eyes. Tiberius Scarr, the Raven himself, one of the most famous assassins in the entire world – so famous that they all knew him by name if not the face. Afraid of his own mortality after committing so many to their own deaths.

Tyr wouldn't stand for so ignoble an end to his career, a completely random happenstance all stemming from the simple action of lifting himself out of bed the morning after their fight against Saorsa.

“Micah's infirmity is genetic, it's too withered and longstanding for us to do anything. But this... I think I can fix it.” Tyr shook his head.

“What do you need?” Alex asked, and her eyes communicated that she'd give him anything he requested from her. Anything for their 'uncle' Tiber.

“Your hands.” Tyr replied. “Your magic, and your body.”

“My body...?” Alex looked at him nervously. “What do you mean my body?”

He explained. He hadn't chosen Alex just for her talent, but also the person she was and the memories they shared. Tyr's insides were a mass of raw energy, just like any other primus he'd ever peered into, only less so. Just like a magical beast, in many ways.

But throughout him were little pinholes, like stars in the night sky. Each of them were a bond he'd made with someone or something, and there were thousands of them. His loves, wishes, hopes and dreams, maybe. There was a star for his enjoyment of red meat of all kinds, a star for each of his friends.

Jura, Sigi, Iscari, Okami, Micah, Brenn, Magnus... All of them. All of varying sizes and intensities. The stronger it was, the easier it was to see them in his spira, like a repository of their selves. He could taste his first meal, feel the wind on his face as he'd been born on a battlefield with his mother staring down at him in pain and pride. Covered in blood yet smiling all the same. Things he had been there for, most of which he had no business in remembering.

But Alex's star was the brightest, the largest mark on him, slightly larger than Iscari's now. He didn't know what it meant, it wasn't quantity of thought that dictated the intensity at all. He had one for the sword he'd always carried, and one for his mothers armor. Both were smaller than the small mark on him left by Lina, and Tyr was absolutely sure he knew what he'd choose if it were asked of him.

And he already knew what he'd spent more time with other things. With no rhyme or reason, and Okami wasn't a suitable vessel despite the large mark he left.

“There's no easy way to say this.” Tyr stared hard, his eyes boring into her own. “I need to possess your body.”

“Okay.” Alex nodded confidently. “You can do that? Soul magic and anima transferal are incredibly advanced branches of magic, Tyr. And forbidden...”

“That was easy.” Tyr almost laughed, if not for the grim circumstances. “I don't know, though. I've felt it, so I should be able to emulated it. But it's not quite a possession, it's a soul bond and once it's made, you know...”

“We can't go back.”

Tyr nodded. It wasn't a small thing. Soul bonds were old rituals humans no longer participated in for very obvious reasons. His soulbond with Okami had been passive, there had been a melding of spirits but no official promise and oath. A natural thing. But this was a literal spiritual contract. And between sapient beings, there were complications that didn't exist when forging one with a familiar or magical beast.

One by which, if one recipient or the other was to die – could irrevocably scar the other. Or even kill them. The fringe between lawful and forbidden magic existed on this line. People, namely templars, made oaths of soul bonding with gods. Few mages were so foolish to do something like this, as there was nothing to gain and everything to lose.

Soul bonds were forever. As long as they lived, they would be connected by a string of magic the effects of which were to inconsistent to know. Sometimes, the users could sense one another across continents. In others, they would hear their own inner monologues at all times within a certain distance, giving them some form of innate telepathy. It went without saying that Tyr took this incredibly seriously, and he feared it. Knowing full well that he would be by far the brunt of the worst of any effects that came.

But he refused to lose such an important person to a disability like this, well before his time. Tiber was too old to accept additional implants, and those same things were what was interfering with attempts to alleviate his pain via magic. The node in his back had shifted in position over time and likely caused the issue to begin with, now... Only Tyr's shaper magic could help. He hoped...

“You have my consent, then.” Alex said, unexpectedly. Not an ounce of hesitation in the woman. “Please help him.”

“Thank you, Alex.”

With that being said, it wasn't easy. Tyr wasn't trying to copy Hastur's method of invading the body of a person, something that was naturally forbidden in the event of said body being... A born human?

Tyr wasn't sure of the distinction, but knowing the church who wrote these laws and regulations it probably had something to do with the soul. Melding the minds of two thinking beings, consensual or not, was not only difficult – but incredibly uncomfortable.

“Is it working?” Alex asked. “I don't feel anything...”

Possessions were supposed to be painful, an almost horrifying experience of feeling your mind become trapped as a spectator as your body moved about. All the sensations of two people in one body with none of the control one would normally have over their own faculties. But all she felt was a gentle warmth, like her essence was being swathed in a cotton blanket beside the fire. Quite the opposite of what she'd expected, it was so comfortable and warm she felt like she may fall asleep at any moment.

“Because I'm feeding on your discomfort, stealing it from you. Turns out I have an inborn talent for empathy, a lot happened when I was gone.” Tyr whispered. Straining to 'empty himself' into her. To see through her eyes and use her hands.

“...Feeding?” Alex said. “That's an alarming choice of words...”

“It's true, regardless. It doesn't always feel good...” Tyr replied, some strain present in the sound of his voice. “But it empowers me. Everything has energy, right? I guess it stands to reason that ills or sicknesses would, too. Even pain has energy. Not a lot, naturally, but I can quite literally feed on the maladies of others. Even their emotions, theoretically, but I'm not good enough at it yet to do that, and I'm not sure I want to take someones feelings from them. In any event, it's the best way to phrase it.”

An hour passed, and still no progress.

“Is it because we aren't compatible?” Alex asked nervously.

“Shut up.”

“I'm not trying to insult you, Tyr. That would upset me if we were not, but--”

“Please just shut your mouth.” Tyr kept one eye on Tiber and the other on Alex. It wasn't a race against time, but he had no idea how long it'd take to formulate a solution. For all he knew, even with Alex in his head, they might not be able to fix it. It was just a random, spontaneous, shot in the dark.

“I have behaved quite favorably considering how things are between us. Don't talk to me like th--”

SLAP.

Tyr didn't hit her hard, but he hit her regardless. It hadn't been the first time, they had all sparred together before, but he'd never struck her in the face. Never like that, it was enough to bring his wish into fruition, her mind frozen between shock and outrage.

“Oh shit...” Once her mind had calmed, the surprise enough to drop her subconscious defenses, Tyr found himself staring at... Well – himself. Just slumped on the floor and bent at an odd angle. “Thank the gods nobody else was here to see this. How incredibly bizarre...”

He'd done it, somehow, but he wasn't convinced it was him. Just lucky enough that it was Alex on the receiving end, doing the rest of it even if it had been inadvertent. Nothing like Hastur's ability to project, Tyr could see that his body was very much alive, only mindless. Spira, mana, all of those parts of himself remained in his original body, not transiting along the connection into Alex's.

Wait... Alex's? I'm in a woman's body...? Tyr looked down before raising his eyebrows in blatant interest, he was a man – but he didn't want to betray her trust like that. His... Curiosities would have to wait. Do all women feel this good all the time?

He couldn't put his finger on why, but he felt incredible.

Not just physically, but mentally, emotionally, spiritually. There were no nails, no knots in his gut or irregular discomforts, and her body felt so free and light, surrounded by an airy sensation. Things Tyr had lived so long with that he'd stopped noticing them, throwing into stark relief how much pain he was in each and every day.

Not feeling that... It made him uncomfortable and felt unfamiliar, but he enjoyed it for what it was. He couldn't hear and feel everything pressing down on him. The world that seemed so massive and oppressive shrunk to become a friendly environment, and his soul – the only part left of him in this body – was tranquil in totality for the first time in...

Maybe ever...? Could a 'warped mana core' explain these things?

He also had breasts, which wasn't as alien of a sensation as he would have expected, believe it or not.

“Alex? Can you hear me?” Tyr asked, hands hovering over 'her' breasts but not quite going all the way, but there was no reply. Tiber stared, eyes glazed up at him from the medication he'd been forced to take. “Try thinking really loud or something. I think that's how telepathy is supposed to work...? Make dolphin noises, all dolphins are psychic... That's what Kirk says...”

He limbered himself in her body, savoring the sensation for the short while it lasted. Every movement was pleasurable, even the air tasted sweeter. Everything was so vibrant and full of color. No more pal tinging everything with gray from time to time. There were shades and hues he had never seen before decorating every little thing, even the cup Tiber had been drinking out of was painted and flowery. No wonder mankind seemed so greedy, if this was their baseline of experience they'd be forced to go to forbidden places for more...

No warped mana core, again...

He wondered at that. How could spira and mana define a living thing if he had separated from both and adopted someone else's? If Tyr's body perished, would his soul follow it? He had made himself into something akin to a living lich, wondering what exactly it was that determined his consciousness, or soul in the abstract.

He ran into situations like this all the time, when his intelligence just wasn't enough to craft a theory around something so enigmatic. Usually, Tyr felt lucky, because it made things simple for him – if he were to be honest with himself. Arcane theorists were a copper a dozen, but they rarely ever did or contributed much of anything. This time, though, he felt the opposite. He wanted to know what a soul was.

It most certainly had nothing to do with mana or spira, or else his vessel wouldn't have remained so stable and still. It wasn't anima, or any combination of the three as others might theorize.

If it was, he wouldn't be feeling Alex's anima become his own for the time being. Her mana and spira were equally under his full command, with the latter being of a shockingly high quality. Not much of it, but it was pure and gold, very dense...

I guess I don't have time to be worrying about silly things like that... Tyr frowned with Alex's mouth, taking in a deep breath of the sweet and pleasant air. Even stinging of sanitizing chemicals and the metallic taste of the medical wards – it was very pleasant. They could sense so much, even though he'd always believed his olfactory senses were beyond any living human... It was just that he could pick out more singular aspects of something, it wasn't so broad in strokes.

Every breath was a joy to take and he felt so alive for it.

Let's get to work. He told himself, rolling up her sleeves and beginning to go through the process of turning theory into reality.

Only... Where, exactly, was Alex?