Completed ... and the Heavens Below

[Perrine Urahil]

Dear Initiate Marcia

Your session for additional training will be held in two days time, location pending at Proctor Urahil's discretion. You will be informed on the day where it is you are expected to be present for this training.

Kind regards,

Proctor Perrine Urahil

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Winter was still a promise away, but had lashed the Academy in a blanket of snow overnight, that the original plan of taking this exercise to the outdoors proved a poor idea. Perrine was sure someone played with the fates, or in this case, the weather, in order to keep the extraction exercises behind closed doors. It was Perrine that had spent weeks coordinating these tests on the Initiate's wits, for they only spent a few hours in the dungeons, but she had been there every day the past fortnight.

A breath of fresh air was all she had wished for, but the temperatures had dropped with winter waiting to embrace Vel Anir in her icy embrace.

It seemed as if the damp, stone walls of the dungeons were an ever present cold, no matter the season on display.

Perrine wrapped her wool-lined jacket tighter around her, waiting by the doors that lead down into the area that had been set up for these testing exercises. At least it was to be one Initiate this afternoon. For the multiples, she had been given Initiate D'Amour to amplify her magic and allow her to make them all experience the same pain and struggles her magic could inflict on them. The Proctor actually wished Fabien were present, so that she could deflect the responsibility to that of his magic, and not her own hand now that she was to run this one on one.

 

[Marcia]

The words, additional training, felt like a double-edged sword.

On the one hand, all training had its merits, and there was little point even being at the Academy if you weren't willing to seek improvement in every area you could. If you weren't well-rounded, then you had a weakness. An unacceptable trait. It was why Marcia had never shirked away from any training, no matter how she felt about it personally.

On the other hand, it could have been the signifier of lagging behind, lacking in an area so much that it required additional training in the first place. Her negative outlook lingered on that scenario, feeding into the beast of frustration for which the Initiate was known. The thought of lacking something was like a slap to the face, making her feel that bile churn that usually preceded another furious outburst.

If anything could temper her self-doubt-steeped rage, then let it be the frigid temperatures that gripped the Academy.

"Proctor Urahil," Marcia spoke in a curt (by her standards, the pinnacle of politeness) greeting, her arms folded across her chest and hands buried within her armpits for warmth. She eyed the dungeon door as a strained grimace crested. "I'm not in trouble, am I?"

At least it was Proctor Urahil, one of the preferred faces of authority within the Academy, who often felt firm but fair, and Marcia could appreciate that more subtle 'don't fuck with me' kind of energy that the woman brought. Many of the other Proctors were still caught in the old ways, believing in the merits of sadism that they experienced despite all the changes that had happened since their time, so avoiding that kind of company in the dungeons was preferable.

 

[Perrine Urahil]

No matter how horrid or lovely an Initiate was, it did not change the fact that Perrine still did not want to do this.

It was an essential lesson for Initiates to learn and train in, but it was also a soft command given upon the Proctor to make the Initiates remember what it is she could do. They all knew of her as a Healer, a Urahil that learned etiquette in her upbringing and was brought on to educate Initiates on this awareness, to add it to their repertoire in the event they were hired to be security at societal events.

The Initiates thought the Proctor to be soft because of her identity as a noblewoman. Perhaps her family had bought her way through graduating...

Not by her very own hands.

Of course, Perrine had told the Initiates in her Etiquette classes her ability to manipulate the body, she did not see the need to correct their interpretation of it as only to heal.

"No, Initiate... you are one of the last to go through training in... keeping Anirian secrets under duress."

She mustered a small smile, hoping to relieve any nerves Marcia may have.

Gesturing for the hall, Perrine invited the Initiate to follow it. Lanterns lit the way, and a single cell was left open, lit with magelight and a stone slab for Marcia to lay on. All the previous sessions Perrine had overseen had the Initiates tied to chairs, but this was a special case. A special reminder.

During the first years as a Dreadlord, before the Revolution, Perrine worked in extracting information from the enemy. Rebels, crooks, spies; none were able to withstand the manipulations the Healer dealt upon them. It was in this line of work she began to realise she could seep into one's mind, begin breaking those years long training at keeping resolve. She was smoke building, finding gaps in all corners to spread her influence.

One on such occasion, Perrine had grounded a large half-orc to a table just like this. So paralysed, he could not work against the magicks she poisoned him with.

"If you want to sit, you can sit... otherwise you are welcome to lay on the stone. Have you ever gone through resistance training?"

 

[Marcia]

In one sentence, Marcia went through a cavalcade of emotions.

Relief that Initiate Cheyne hadn't mentioned her missing tooth to the Proctors, or at least Proctor Urahil. No trouble to be had there. In her defence, the girl shouldn't chatted shit if she didn't want to get hit, although kicking her tooth down the drain might have been a bit far.

Frustration that she was one of the last. Back of the line. Behind the pack. Marcia, the runt of the litter. Surely just happenstance, but what if?

Fuck.

Then there was unease. Under duress was a softer way to frame it, but even polished ebony couldn't frame shit and make it smell any better. Marcia didn't doubt that it was a necessary lesson, but that didn't mean it suddenly became palatable. What kind of maniac would even look forward to torture by any name?

A terse nod and she followed on, the frustration lingering on her face, brows knitting familiar irate grooves into her flesh. If she were to be designated as the last, she would vow to be the best.

Show them who the afterthought is.

When they reached the cell, Marcia finally managed to unball her fists, her exercise of silent self-torment pushed to the side in the name of the objective and letting determination settle in its place. The diminutive girl hopped onto the slab and, for the time being, chose to sit, legs dangling off the side.

"Not like this," she answered truthfully, having swapped the face of frustration for something more muted, "I mean, we all get hurt, right?" Pain was a part of life here, even if it was far less prominent now than in the storied old days of horror. Nonetheless, it was a fact of combat. To hurt. To persevere. To win.

"Is there anything I should know first, Proctor?"

 

[Perrine Urahil]

Perrine gave her a half smile, unsure if it was to ease her worries or to dispel any nerves the Initiate may have. "The goal to this testing is that you put all that you have learned so far at the Academy into keeping your wits and strength in tact. You do not yield, no matter what happens here. You will not come close to death, that I can assure you... but expect this exercise to hurt."

After the first round of testing begun, the Initiates began to whisper, not about what to expect of the challenge, but that of Perrine Urahil's magic. The sheer atrocities she could render a soul under, just at the touch of her hand. It all made sense to them all now, recalling the Proctor mentioning her magic countless times, and none of them fully grasping it until they were locked in a cell with her.

Surely Marcia would have heard about it.

"Luckily for you, a one on one session means I can concentrate on your mentality. Challenge it, chip away at your defenses. When it all falls down, what you are left with is your last stand. Resist me, and you will have passed the training exercise. It ends when you do this."

And ends when you fail too, but Perrine left that portion unsaid.

 

[Marcia]

Marcia listened carefully, her face now more relaxed from her minor attack of self-doubt as they made their way to the cell. She was a different beast in the company of Proctors, less the miniature bull seeking the red rag from the words of her peers and more a severe and withdrawn sort.

Suddenly, the fact that it was individual training was more than a boon than anything. If her mentality was to be tested alongside her strength of will and ability to endure, then the company of other Initiates might have been hell. One snide comment and the back of composure would be bent, giving way to the oncoming rush of rage, not that productive breed of anger that could be wielded, but that feral, violent creature that lacked all equilibrium and poise.

She doubted that Proctor Urahil would poke at that bear, although, then again, Marcia hadn't heard anything about this test. That would have implied that she had friends to talk to.

"Got it."

Her frustrations might have waned, but that only left room for the unease to settle back in—that anticipation of an unpleasant necessity. Firmly believing that putting it off would only make it worse, she swung her legs up onto the slab and obliged in laying down, her brows knitting in trepidation as she found a spot in the ceiling to settle her stare.

A point of focus.

"I'm ready when you are, Proctor."

 

[Perrine Urahil]

Perrine sighed, slapping a smile on her face quickly to cover the weariness from her breath.

"My magic works by touch, so I will be conducting this exercise like so..." Perrine reached for Marcia's hand, her own warm and welcoming as she slowly seeped her magic into the girl. "Tell me a secret. Something dark that you are afraid to voice in this world."

Perrine's magic latched onto Marcia's heart rate, monitoring it. The Initiate would feel that something was amiss, as if her heart was beating at an irregular pace.

Beat. Beat... Beat. Beat...

"Each lie you tell me, I will increase the pain."

 

[Marcia]

So it began.

While staring at the ceiling, Marcia had identified her chosen focal point—a spot to stare at to help distract herself from the pain that would no doubt be coming. There was a speck of mould there, suggesting that moisture had once invaded, perhaps an old leak.

She could feel the discomfort of anticipation in her chest, akin to that anxiety that stole sleep and stoked the fires of self-loathing. Was she so nervous? No, no, this wasn't right. The Initiate's face turned sceptical, eyes narrowing as she found her lie to tell. No, this was it, the Proctor's magic fucking with her body.

"I don't have any secrets," Marcia replied flatly, trying not to psyche herself out at the idea of escalating things whenever she told a lie.

 

[Perrine Urahil]

She did not know what was worse; her pride in hearing Marcia resist her questioning, or her guilt for feeling the lie being told and the lesson she had to apply.

Perrine ignored the drop in her stomach, the unease she felt as she inhaled softly and poured her magic into the Initiate. Pain receptors strained under the Proctor's influence. It was enough to have the Initiate writhing, yet still able to endure what they were experiencing. "A standard response... but your heart beat gave it away. You are hiding something, Initiate. Tell me."

 

[Marcia]

A standard response.

It seemed the wisest course of action. Deny, reject, shut down. If they were crafty enough, she might have imagined that some others would have been more creative, telling believable lies that could have fooled the test. Marcia also might have imagined that some chose belligerence as their resistance method; that one probably wasn't out of her wheelhouse.

She might have because the girl was otherwise occupied. True to her word, Proctor Urahil increased the pain, causing a hum of discomfort to leave the back of Marcia's throat.

"No," the Initiate grimaced in response, hands at her side fidgeting as her gaze centred on that mould spot. She hadn't expected the pain to be ramped up so swiftly, and while it might not have been the worst she had ever experienced, it still gave cause for her features to scrunch. "You are wrong. I am not... hiding anything."

 

[Perrine Urahil]

Perrine closed her eyes for a second before exhaling.

A pain would blossom behind Marcia's eye, creating a dull headache that did not let up. The Proctor parted her lips to breath, as if this exercise was proving to be hard for her, and she was ready to call it off.

But she was a Dreadlord, a hard worker, and she never cut corners to get results.

Without warning, she delivered a sharp pain that shot up the Initiate's spine, causing muscles to tense and cramp under the magic's pressure. "You tell me a secret, something you are hiding, and I will give you a rest from the pain."

 

[Marcia]

The headache began to crest, and suddenly, Marcia realised that Proctor Urahil's magic had great and terrible implications. If only she had been more sociable to have found this out beforehand instead of on the slab. Then again, how many of the Initiates who knew pysched themselves out knowing what the woman could do?

She grimaced, feeling discomfort throb in her head. The girl's face continued to scrunch as gritted teeth attempted to alleviate some of the pressure that sat like a blunt burden. Perhaps, if she closed her eyes for a momen-

"Fuck!"

Marcia's outcry was as sudden as the invisible blade that seemed to stab up her spine, giving cause for her to writhe, back arching, hands drawn into white-knuckled fists. She closed her eyes again, shaking her head.

"I-I told you... I don't have secrets."

 

[Perrine Urahil]

"Which do you prefer. A broken toe, or a broken finger? You must choose."

Perrine held a great patience.

When she had first started out as a Dreadlord, she had often insisted she work alone, that no one be present to interfere with her investigations. There were plenty that opposed this request, and soon enough, they gave the Urahil woman her space. She could work on a person for three days straight, fueled by her magic that she did not tire, even if the person she was forcing answers from had passed out from exhaustion.

"The longest session I ran for these exercise was from dusk til dawn, and I might remind you that I no longer have a schedule to keep. You are not leaving until you answer my questions."

Without warning, without Marcia's answer, Perrine broke a bone in the Initiate's hand.

The ache in her head increased at her suppression.

 

[Marcia]

"...wh-what?!" Marcia's eyes snapped open at the question, the expression through her grimace turning aghast through a clenched jaw and gritted teeth. Was she supposed to answer that? Did that count as a question? The inner voice of self-doubt that asked such questions was challenging to hear over the steady thrum of the headache.

Perhaps for the best.

Room for thought seemed destructive, and the prospect of doing this indefinitely until she caved was terrifying. The girl thought herself tough, but-

The sudden crack of bone caused a yelp, breaking up any consideration of eternal torture as a familiar ache stung her hand. Was it a comfort because it was familiar? Little Initiate Marcia, wallpunching runt. Broken bones were a Dreadlord pastime; it was the suddenness that really struck her.

"I... did answer your question!" Marcia protested, feeling every inch of her headache grow, the relentless hum reverberating in the back of her eyeballs.

 

[Perrine Urahil]

Perrine kept the apology from her facade, told herself that this was necessary.

And a lesson still for all to learn.

"Our enemies will not play fair, Initiate. Not even some of your classmates." It was a lesson taught to every Initiate that saw these halls, to every Guard that goes through their six months training. "No one is going to hold your hand and wait for you to answer dutifully."

Perrine knew Marcia was the stubborn sort. Most Initiates were if they were crafted a certain way, but that personality needed to be put to the test.

"All I need is a truthful admission to something you are keeping secret. Something no one else knows. Not a soul, and if you evade my questions, then I have no choice but to exercise some measures to get it."

Perrine gently squeezed Marcia's hand, pressing onto the broken bone to make her demands known.

 

[Marcia]

Through the pressure behind her eyes, some of the Proctor's words managed to slip into Marcia's head, settling in her mind like a leaden weight. No one is going to hold your hand. It struck somewhere beyond the mortal realm of the flesh, causing pain of a different sort seen in a twitch of taut features.

Wrath.

It was like a second skin, one that Marcia had been forced to shed in the presence of her superiors as she had gotten older for fear of ever harsher consequences, but it never left, always rearing its head when the suggestion came that she was less than.

"Nobody needs to-"

-hold my fucking hand!

Words half spat through a barrier of bared teeth were stopped mid-flow and trailed off into a strained clamour as the Proctor pressed on broken bone. Thoughts of focusing on mould spots were long gone, and instead, Marcia tore away her afflicted hand and balled it into a white-knuckled fist, actively causing her own pain as if it would prove a point.

"Fuck you!"

 

[Perrine Urahil]

Outbursts were not uncommon, but Perrine did flinch when it came from this Initiate in particular. No, no one needed to hold a hand, but in order for Perrine's magic to work, she needed her hands on her target. And so it was with a pointed look, a transition from noble Prctor to Dreadlord Healer that has seen the worst of injuries.

"Lay down on the table. Fasten the cuffs around your shins and place your wrists in the cuffs at your side." The threat was unspoken, but Perrine was unafraid to remind the Initiate what lengths she would go to in order to make someone more compliant.

"If you wish I do not hold your hand no longer, then to continue this lesson, I must break you."

It certainly was raising the stakes, challenging the girl... but perhaps she craved the pain as a motivator, just as Initiate Larrainth had.

 

[Marcia]

The act of lashing out did not soothe her; it never did.

"I didn't mean to..." the girl began, trailing off in frustration at not being able to express her feelings on the matter. Just as well, as it skirted too close to telling a secret.

Wrenching her hand away had stopped the flow of Proctor Urahil's magic, but it did nothing to put a stopper back in the bottle of rage. Or fix the broken bone in her hand. Sitting up, Marcia could feel that familiar tempest in her chest, the excess energy of anger that caused her heart to beat against her chest and made her fidget as if she did not know what to do with her limbs.

Still, she did not object and complied with the order. Her feelings did not matter when stood next to the objective. There was no purpose for her outside the Academy, not a family, not friends, so if she failed here, she had failed everywhere. Once the restraints around her legs were fastened awkwardly with one hand, the Initiate lay down, placing her arms in the cuffs that would keep fury fettered, at least physically.

"Do what you have to."

 

[Perrine Urahil]

She wished it burdened her heart to clasp the cuffs around Marcia's wrists, but duty was never far for the Proctor. It fit like a familiar glove. Perrine was always a Dreadlord made and first before the duties of a Proctor should have made her... no, Proctors were meant to be feared, even now when the Revolution had made it's turn, there were those that still craved the cruelty from their teachers.

But Perrine could never quite fit in so easily.

Standing behind Marcia's head, so the Initiate could not glimpse her, Perrine placed her hands at the top of her head. Thumbs pressed against her forehead, all the contact she needed to do what she was tasked to do.

"Are you hiding something from us? Are you hiding behind a name, feigning through this life as an Initiate? Are you a spy, designed to infiltrate the ranks of the Dreadlords and seek to bring down Vel Anir?" Perrine's voice was now spoken in monotone, uncaring. It was the best way to weather through this as she caused pain all over Marcia's body. Every nerve, every muscle, the pain uncomfortable and overwhelming.

 

[Marcia]

Marcia, still riding the wave of her minor outburst, did not anticipate that Proctor Urahil would resume with such intensity.

The changing of the questions unbalanced her, the girl's face flashing with brief confusion before the pain kicked in so suddenly and so indomitably that it caused her to cry out, her eyes snapping shut and body surging against the restraints that had no doubt experienced this exact scene hundreds of times over.

It was like all-consuming flames covering every inch of her body, afflicting pain in a manner so devasting that Marcia could not find the words to answer the interrogation, never mind the thoughts to create them. The only sound she was capable of offering her tormentor was prolonged screams, shredding a throat that already burned under the Proctor's magic.

She just wanted it to stop.

 

[Perrine Urahil]

A few more moments of endless pain before Perrine smoothed her thumbs back to Marcia's hair, as if soothing the Initiate with the gentle gesture. "Do not lie, Marcia..." Her voice, whisper soft, as if she did not have it in her to be cruel and inflict any pain. "I only need the truth from you."

Her finger moved to press at her temple, controlling the blood flow and the veins beyond that. Within seconds, she was connected to Marcia's beating heart, to her lungs... and that is where the pressure began to build. "I need an answer from you, Initiate. Both questions."

Perhaps it was foul play, to go beyond her means of this task, but Perrine simply slipped into the Initiate's mind enough to press impressions upon her thoughts. It was tentative, as if the thought were there at the back of her mind...

Vittoria could take over and get your secret out from you...

 

[Marcia]

The relief was tremendous when it came, a soft whimper escaping Marcia's mind and body, which had already tensed in anticipation of the next horror to come, the space between torment one being filled by dread. Her eyes opened, the mould spot of overconfidence looming overhead, taunting her hubris. How could she think staring at the ceiling would get her through this?

"No... I don't... I-Im not..." Marcia stuttered, attempting to answer both questions as hesitancy crept into her voice, overtaking what had previously been solid and definite answers.

Stringing concrete, steadfast thoughts together was becoming more difficult as the Initiate's resistance was slowly being peeled back layer by layer. Overwhelming. She felt it in her chest, building up, aching. The rhythm off. She could give in. This was enough. She wouldn't have been the worst. Not the best. The girl's chest heaved, labouring to swell and subside with every breath a little more difficult than the last. She knew who would have been the best.

Vittoria fucking Larrainth.

Why the fuck was she thinking about her? Now?! It was better to have a one-on-one. The thought of having to share the experience with that rancid cunt made her dry heave, worsening the pressure that bore down upon her chest like a crushing boot. Probably would have volunteered to help torture the others. Fuck. Marcia could see it perfectly in her mind's eye. Looming over her. Smug and carnivorous. Tears began to form in the Initiate's eyes. Heart racing. Breaths short and shallow. She forced her eyes shut, but even then, the world was spinning.

Vittoria would have torn her apart.

 

[Perrine Urahil]

Perrine knew she almost broke through.

Marcia's inability to speak clear answers had told her the pain was reaching absolute paramount, and perhaps a touch more could have her begging for it to stop. And Perrine would stop. She always listened to the one she wanted information from.

And so the Proctor, the one the Initiates for a time ridiculed her ability to heal, put Marcia through the worst pain imaginable by keeping her alive. It was the cruelty and the ease in which she did this with; for the Proctor could give and take as much as she could. She had worked her magic to breaking point plenty of times in her career, but it did nothing to sway her determination to get the job done.

It was with a heavy heart that Perrine inflicted this pain upon Marcia, but before her periwinkle eyes, she saw the strength of the Initiate as she persisted and endured.

 

[Marcia]

It was too much.

Every second that went by became endless, a void in which the only purpose was to suffer. Every time she thought she had reached the summit of what it meant to feel pain, it got worse. Every question that she screamed into her mind was an unforgiving knife. When does it stop?

Whenever you want it to.

It transcended physical suffering; those thoughts of Vittoria looming over her had changed, transforming into that beast of self-doubt that lived within her—an insignificant, weak hindrance. You're falling behind. You're not fit to be a Dreadlord. Stop fighting it. Give up. You'll never be good enough. The voice that hissed fears in the maelstrom of agony no longer belonged to the imagined monolith of Initiate Larrainth. It was her own. Ever-present in the blood, boiling her alive from the inside. Always.

"I-I can't...!"

The tears that had welled in her eyes slid down the sides of her face, her hoarse cries grating through clamped teeth like rusted metal. Wrists and legs thrashed against bindings, giving birth to future bruises that seemed all too insignificant to the suffering Proctor Urahil was inflicting.

If she gave up now, would it prove her doubts true?

It hurt so much.

"P-puh-please...!"

Her voice, every bit the frightened and tormented sixteen-year-old girl, was betraying her, begging for it to stop. No, for fuck's sake! She could hold on just a bit longer. Do better. Be better. That anger, Marcia's anger turned inwards, and rather suddenly, the girl raised her head, Proctor Urahil's hands in tow and threw it backwards, cracking the back of her head off of the slab as if surrendering on her own terms.

 

[Perrine Urahil]

Perrine wanted to jump back, to put distance between herself and the Initiate, but the pain and cracks in the younger girl kept her there. So quickly, the Proctor identity was gone, and the Healer was there to fix all the damage that had been done physically. "It is alright..." She found herself soothing Marcia, brushing the hair from her face. Her magic felt like a cooling and peaceful coverage, seeping all over and inside the Initiate as it easily found the broken bones, the bruising, and the minor trauma done to the back of her head.

Life rejuvenated in the younger, possibly making her feel more awake or healthier than recent days.

At last, Perrine undid all the fastenings silently. Waited at the end of the stone for the Initiate to sit up, get up, in her own time.

"That is all for today. You passed... it is important you do not speak of the questions asked of you here today with anyone else. The next session should always be your own answers..."