Threads of iridescent light spun from his mark, spiraling around his frail body -- the remnants of the cold, hard feeling of metal were all Thomas had to hold on to as he was thrusted back within the chavena.
...
"Goggles."
That was his first thought as he fell into the foreign memory -- Thomas could make out the lens, despite their almost immaculate cleaning; the very lopsided view giving them away. Every gear, every inscription, even the very grooves of the metal were easily counted by the pulser -- one of the lens extremely magnified by intensely. The other fell on the more natural section, allowing him a greater view of the project, the Sleeper Golem.
"The Lab," he said, or perhaps thought -- his lips, no, these foreign lips failed to make any sound other than the odd mumble, or incoherent whisper.
"Filch, Filch!."
The name took the pulser by surprise, and a perverse pleasure filled his being. He was the Master. Or at least, seeing through him. The very idea of glimpsing into his or Kromby's chavi hadn't even occured to the young mage -- but no better time to start than now.
"What do you think your doing? We have other more important tasks to attend to instead of fiddling with a useless golem such as the Sleeper."
The unseen smile grew even wider as Thomas glanced the other man. Kromby. It had to be -- even now, he took a similar body. Older, well preserved, hair as white as the very ichor that course through the dead body's veins.
"The Archwizard ordered us to shut down this project, and that is what I am doing. I am already installing his command crystal." He felt the mouth open, the tongue flick and roll as the words formed and spilt out in a monotonous tone. Definitely Filch, he thought, his arm, no, Filch's arm bringing the crystal to the magnified lens.
Symbols, hardly visible to the enhanced lens, surely invisible to the naked eye, decorated the gem's surfaced. But the glowing source of light caught the pulser's attention the fastest -- pulsating like heart. Filch reached to place the gem in the fitted golem, only to be stopped by his supposed partner.
"Stop this Filch. Surely you can't let it end like this? All of our work, everything we worked to build, it will all be for nothing if you finish this golem."
"Your letting your emotions cloud your judgement. The Archwizards word is law, and we cannot disobey. You know what will happen if we do."
The Archwizard -- the first mention had slipped by the pulser, but not this time. Remembering what Filch had said before, Thomas realized now, Mashaen must had created the gems used by the follower golem. Thoughts and ideas and assumptions began popping up one after another, only to be cut by a searing pain, a plop, and the sudden realization of being surrounded by ichor.
...
"Mashaen."
The name seemed to echo around the dark cavern. The Archwizard. Thomas smiled, looking back at Stranger; he alone had animated the the follower -- but it had been delivered to him completely built. In all likelihood, considering Mashaen had created the gems, it only made sense to assume the archwizard had built and designed the follower golem.
A stab of pain reminded him of his cut, and with great strain, Thomas began to slowly peel away his blood stained shirt. He winced, dried blood seemingly fusing the cloth to his skin, but he managed to pull the shirt away from the wound.
"Not that deep," he sighed, praying a silent thanks to Avalis. She had dragged him through the chavena, reminding him of the power she had gifted -- Thomas wouldn't be so hesitant to use it anymore. He bit his lower lip, prodding at the cut, little drops of blood seeping out now and then, but luckily, the wound seemed dry -- at least for now.
Thomas knew little of medicine, but he understood Sahova was the last place he needed to catch an infection. Placing the purple gem in Stranger, the master apprentice slowly made his way to the exit -- eventually making his way back to the lab in hopes to bully an apprentice out of a clean shirt.
