Reforging the Blade

[Heuschrecke]

For two days, Heimirich endured the same routine. He didn't know why, nor did he learn what they were accomplishing. Not yet, at least. The third day started much the same as before: Food, thinking time an a walk to Fafnir. This time though, something wasn't quite right. There was an air of uncertainty in the circle and Heimirich couldn't tell what from. He shook his head and stood expectantly at his spot, before their chants begun anew. The familiar ripple in the air, the overlapping voices striking similar tone as before. He felt his voice slipping out of tune to his crew, and began to correct it. In that moment, colour exploded in front of his eyes and he dropped to one knee, his voice trailing off into silence as the colours shaped themselves into the darkened memory of before, except with a twist.

This wasn't his memory, it was the memory of another. He could see himself there, in the contraption, struggling against the unforgiving restraints. It was, of course, no use. Even with it not being his memory he could still feel what his body felt, remember what he thought. Panic set in, and in the vision, he could feel himself flailing pointlessly. A piercing scream shattered the monotony of the rattling against metal restraints, a scream that was silenced by something he could not see from his forced perspective. His own scream. Fear. The figure in front shifted slightly and a flash of blue was visible, but not for more than a moment. A completely unnatural sensation of something forcing his mouth open, refusing the ability to bite down. Heimirich could only guess what the cause was. A vile taste on the tongue brought the urge to gag, dispose the contents of his stomach where he was, push whatever it was back up and out. He couldn't. It resisted each heave, slipping deeper inside before the weight of it sat firmly inside. A moment of silence, only broken by the occasional cough and the flinging of spit from his mouth, a feeble attempt to clear the taste away of whatever secretion had plastered his mouth and throat. Panting followed, now able to shut his jaw with it settling down.

Another scream, this time accompanied with a burning sensation, pain dissolving any other thought of escape from the restraints. Intense, piercing, as though something was tearing up his insides. It was unlike anything he had felt before, and all he could do about it was rattle against the restraints, fight pointlessly against the reinforced alloy as cold as death itself. His resolve in staying conscious was only propped up by the will to try and relieve the pain; nothing else existed. He wanted to curl up, tears flowing like rivers down his face. A thought that wasn't his wandered through the memory: They were impressed. Resilience to the pain was not often found in those of Humanity.

The shared memory began to dissipate, the final image fading back down inside to where Heimirich felt that pain. Almost a phantom recollection rekindled an ache towards the base of his spine, though even now he couldn't quite work it out. Whatever it was, clearly had some significant meaning to his current state. He was beginning to wonder if he was alone anymore in his own body. The vision seemed to have come from within, yet there was no real way to deduce if this was the case.

He stood back up, feeling every pair of eyes around the opening on him. Thankfully the gloom did its part in covering most of them from his own view, so that when he checked, it was only those around that he could notice. He steadied himself, regaining composure before slipping into the chanting once more.