The world was sucked away from Lucius, drawn out into a tunnel of darkness into which his arms could be feebly stretch. Before he could even set the smoldering pipe down, his head had rolled back and taken his mind with it. The cool air of the basement faded as though his own body temperature had suffused the entire room. The touch of Aisha’s leg against his own vanished and left him alone in the darkness

Even the idle noise of conversation drew out to incoherent noise and then nothing but his own heart. It beat a steady rhythm into the abyss, a declaration that he was alive that washed out and mingled with the nothingness. But he wasn’t alone in the perceived oblivion. Other drum beats of life echoed back, each at their own pace but each defiantly alive in a world of nothing.

No shapes, no sights, no objects of form nor extrusion. Truly, he was given a visage of death. This was a familiar world to Lucius, for he visited it often and yet hardly remembered it. Like a passing dream, quickly forgotten in the heat of battle and the pain of recovery. It had but left an impression upon his soul of that world wherein greater beings lay.

As time progressed, the medley noise of life developed a character of music. He tried to open his mouth to speak, but he had no body, and thus no lips, no mouth, throat, or lungs. He could not call out, neither in comradely greeting nor desperate help. The only mode he had was to add his own beat to the mix and in doing so he became their comrade for a time which, in contrast to the nothingness, was a communion as sweet as any woman’s intimate embrace.

Then the lights began to manifest, to make their impressions upon him. Rather than stars in the sky, they were like distant fires. Enormous and unmoving, yet their light did not clear back the darkness. They towered over the lives about him, which each resolved into a flickering mote of life no greater than a candle wick and often much less. The grand lights weighed down on him, smothering him with their presence. The grand lights did not join their beat to the medley, but emitted crackling noise as though flocks of songbirds had gone to war within them. A horrid noise, but one which contained far more, nearly a language of thought.

There was yet another.

It moved like a man, striding distances between the motes with pure intention, as though the gulfs of space between were but a suggestion. Its light truly shined upon the world, delivering its focus unto existence. With all the care of an elderly craftsman, it flitted about the waning souls, but what it did Lucius could not say.

Until, at last, it took notice of him. From afar it faced him, and he was struck by the resemblance to a hooded figure of light. Then it was upon him, light as strong as a lantern thrust to his face but he could not recoil. “You were not here before,” it said, thought coalescing into words.

Lucius tried to speak, to manifest his will, but could do nothing but recoil back from the entity.

“A strong soul, deftly marked, carved out by a greater power. Stained in blood, forged in violence. What a gem has arrived,” the entity said, and Lucius felt hands upon him. Their touch restored his body in feeling if not in control, and he felt fingers upon him. Twice as long as they should have been, and as thin as a crone’s. They felt like bones wrapped in skin, and they grabbed him by neck and by head. But they did not squeeze.

They could not wring the life from his body.

“You have tasted of the fruit, but this is not your first sight, is it? You have forayed to this realm once before… no… this distinctness of soul, you have been here many times and been strengthened by it. You aren’t one to come to me of your own accord, are you? Not yet at least. Thankfully, time is on my side.” The fingers settled around the back of Lucius’s throat, interlacing with one another as clawed thumbs rolled up from larynx to chin.

The entity began to squeeze. It drew itself closer, drowning out the noise of other life. The light of its focus manifested Lucius’ body once more, but constricted as though a great snake had laid about him. He could not breathe, though his chest began to burn with the need.

But then he understood how to speak. “I know what you are.”

The entity recoiled, but did not release him.

“You pose as a god, but look at you. Your light can barely illuminate one man. You should never have shown yourself to me like this. Now I know I don’t have to be afraid of you.”

The thing shook. “I am the god of these lands, you miserable cur.”

“No, you’re not. But, I bet you’re the reason these islands have collapsed. And to think I thought it was something mundane. No, it was just corruption from a rotten castaway.”

The entity released him, sweeping away and rising over him. “You will not sleep easy from this day forth. My followers are everywhere. If the fruit will not bring you into the fold, then steel will.”

Lucius laughed. “Shouldn’t you run away before Shepherd notices what you’re doing?”

And in so evoking her name, one of the five grand lights began to sway, bringing its attention to them like an enormous pendulum. The entity cursed and flung Lucius away. The world of darkness and light flew from his vision.

His body once more sucked in breath, and he smelled wine. There was pressure across his chest, on his legs, and in his throat. A moment of blinking brought the blurry world into focus and he heard Sammy say, “I guess he’s not dead.”

The doctor was atop him, pinning him to the couch with fingers jabbed deep into Lucius’ neck to tease out and count his pulse. “I tend to not stay dead, as you may recall. But that was certainly an experience,” Lucius said, but found his words slurred. They stumbled across his tongue and tripped over his lips. Working his mouth took a great deal of effort, almost as much as lifting his arms.

Everything was heavy, but nothing hurt.

“Are you okay?” Aisha asked. “You scared us.”

“I’m fine, I think.”

Sammy shook his head. “Stop talking like you have wool in your mouth. Can you?”

“I don’t know. Probably not. I might need to sleep this off.”

Sammy shoved off and paced the room. “This was a bad idea. He should have had me inspect and document the locals using the stuff first. I don’t even know if there’s a way to counteract this, or how long it will be. That might not have even been a proper dose.”

Lucius shrugged, a miniscule shift of tired shoulders. “It had better be. I got that packed by the smoke house owner. Hit like I sucked ambrosia right from the teat of a divine beast.”

Aisha shook her head. “He’s in no shape to be shown to anyone. We have to keep even the guards out. This is pathetic. He’ll lose the respect of the men if he’s seen in this stupor so soon after coming.”

Sammy picked up a small surgical blade. “We could just kill him to trigger his stigmata.”

“Do not. I’ll be fine,” Lucius mumbled.

Aisha shook her head. “I say leave him overnight, and let him think it over. If he’s still a mess in the morning… well, then we can strangle him I guess.”

The doctor sighed. He traded the blade for a notebook “I guess that leaves me pulling an all-nighter, huh? I have to document his vitals.”

“Oh, at least carry me to the bed.”

Aisha put her hand on Sammy’s shoulder. “I’ll have the kitchen send some food down for you. I guess tonight I have the bed to myself.”

“Hey!”

Aisha smirked at him, though we’ll never know if she understood what he said or merely guessed his intentions. “Sorry, my lord, but you should have thought of this ahead of time, if you wanted to spend the night with me. At least it’s cool in the dungeon down here, right?” Then she left and it was but the two men alone.

Sammy sat down opposite him, scratching his notes down with a quill. I later reviewed these notes and agreed with his hypothesis that the smoke of the kuku bud would make a potent anesthetic for surgical purposes. He had jabbed Lucius a number of times with a needle to the fingertips and gotten no response whatsoever. The only concern was lingering side effects and weighing them against the need for the surgery. The most common anesthetic at the time was distilled wine, which could take an hour to come into effect, while the kuku bud had incapacitated Lucius before he even set the pipe down.

All this went on without a single thought from my pupil. The second phase of the drug high had seeped through his blood and laden him with lethargy. The energy of life vanished and left him immobile upon the bench. It also diminished his thoughts to the point of a waking sleep that precluded stress, worry, anxiety, and concern. The burdens of leadership, of maintaining his noble facade, of planning for the future, all of them left his body that night.

It, however, was not stronger than his frustration at being denied the night with his lover.

The cooling of their relationship in the next few days seemed a transient thing. Lucius set about the task of working through a long pile of reports, decisions, spending requests, legal inquiries, and approvals to hire more staff. All things which had built up in the absence of a proper governor. The intellectual labor cleared his mind of the plant, and Aisha’s company at meals kept him from desiring the unburdening once more.

The real stress upon the boy came when, two weeks after his arrival at the islands, Rackvidd dispatched a replacement alchemist and Kajsa of Jarnmark arrived.