Chapter 7 THE INNER CRUCIBLE

If an observer's lens were focused on me within the stronghold atop Tombstone Mountain, the footage captured would have defied reason. Starting in the morning, the recording might unveil me lying in slumber upon the bed. By afternoon, my position would remain unchanged-immobile, eyes closed as though in peaceful rest. As evening descended, I would remain ensconced beneath the blankets, abstaining from sustenance or movement. To an outside eye, I would seem lifeless, except for one detail-I would awaken my eyes once each day, a futile gesture, to check for the return of Brandon or Pricina.

The latter, as I knew well, was a woman true to her word.

The count of days I spent on the mountainside had never held much significance to me, and as I delved into my education under the other Christian, I relinquished the task of keeping track.

Every day, I nestled into his embrace as one would curl up in a feline manner. He imparted to me the art of solidifying tepid water, shaping rock with naught but a thought, realigning tectonic plates to subdue earthquakes, and more.

Questions formed. "May I wield these skills to alter the matter within another's form?" I inquired, pondering the possibility of mending fractured bones within another's frame.

"Can you?" he countered. "Have you ventured such feats?"

I shook my head in response.

"Indeed, you could, though I am not the one to instruct you. Have you not discerned that each lesson I have shared pertains solely to inert materials? Entities devoid of intrinsic motion or autonomous energy? Another incarnation of myself, I believe, may bestow upon you that knowledge. Yet, it eludes me. Living beings do not fall under my dominion."

I found amusement in his words, resonating with the Christian I had come to know. While his knowledge of his own many facets remained incomplete, his aptitude for sculpting his environment to align with his desires remained undiminished.

Abruptly, he posed a question to me. "Have you ever ventured to the village of the eternally enduring-Nhagaspir?"

A shake of my head signaled my unfamiliarity with such a place. "And where might this be?"

He gestured earthward. "Beneath us. An underground palace that shifts periodically, concealing lesser gods from mortal gaze. A realm for their surveillance of the planet, and to maintain cosmic order. When the time arrives to reverse the poles, it is there that you must journey. The optimal vantage for effecting such change."

"Why this location?" I probed.

"Communication lines traverse the globe, converging there. A seat of potency, where messages may be disseminated through cooperative particles. A nexus of power. However, it is bereft of sustenance, akin to the heart of a desert, unfit for human habitation. Though sporadic visits have occurred, humans stand in awe of its resplendence. Forged by immortals wielding my akin powers, its appearance rivals the gates of heaven, yet it remains a realm not meant for humanity."

The realization that I might flourish in a realm not tailored for human existence struck me profoundly. His assertion of my departure from humanity was now substantiated. Curiously, despite his earlier claim, I had not fully embraced this transformation. "Have I ceased to be human?" I murmured.

The alternate Christian entertained no patience for remorseful musings on the matter. "At any juncture, you retain the prerogative to revert to your humanity," he declared, dispassionately.

"How might such a return be achieved?"

"Merely substitute all cells within your body belonging to me with anew. Human bodies perpetually cycle cells, expunging the aged and superfluous. To transform back, you need only guide your body to perceive the cells comprising my heart as undesirable. Over time, your body would progressively replace these cells with those of your own forging. Subsequently, by commanding your body to cease, you would relinquish dominion over the red forest, undergoing the natural aging process once more."

"Do immortal beings often make this choice?" I queried.

"Indeed, though more frequently, the red forest's control dissipates involuntarily."

Recollection dawned of my interrogation concerning the red forest during those precious hours bracketing my escape from the compound and my subsequent abduction. I had questioned Christian regarding the red forest's nature, yet he had demonstrated ignorance. A considerable descent he had undertaken, yet his authority over his body endured, a fact warranting my intensified quest to locate him.

"Teach me further. I am determined to locate you."

Compliance flowed from the alternate Christian, and over the ensuing days and weeks, he imparted his trove of knowledge. External reality dissolved into obscurity, culminating in a mysterious luminescence at the zenith of existence.

Upon the pronouncement of his final revelation, I discerned the culmination of our journey. An ardor had burgeoned within me with each new morsel of wisdom. As the ultimate piece fell into place, an excruciating torment flared within, igniting a paroxysm of agony.

I wailed, clutching my abdomen, a searing fire kindled within.

"The time has come," he intoned, gathering me into his arms and positioning me atop the altar. "Fear not. Pain shall accompany this metamorphosis, yet the rewards shall surpass measure."

"Stay with me," I garbled, my hand reaching out. Agony surged up my esophagus.

"I must stand behind you," he explained, adjusting his stance. "Be resolute. Once the ordeal concludes, the transformation shall bring unprecedented gain." He stationed himself behind me, his hands framing my head. "At the acme of agony, tilt your head as far back as possible, heeding not my presence within your mouth."

"Will I retch?" I inquired, foreboding gripping me.

"Not in the conventional sense. Remember, arch your head. I shall assist and guide you."

In the ensuing instant, I emitted a primal scream. A furnace raged within my abdomen, as if an inferno had been enkindled there.

Christian cradled my head. "You are exquisite."

My eyes widened in response.

His words persisted, heard through the veil of torment. "Your beauty radiates. I am naught but an amalgam of consciousness, yet your beauty shines with unparalleled brilliance."

Speech eluded me. Only the scream prevailed, transformed into a melody, akin to an angel's refrain.

"Take my hand," he entreated, our hands clasping firmly. "Hold fast. Soon, coughing shall commence."

Subsequent moments blurred, the scream evolving into a chorus of agony. A profound ache unfurled, converting every vestige of joy experienced with Christian into a ruthless source of torment. Ultimately, the suffering intensified to a degree where I paid for every moment of happiness ever granted in my existence.

The other Christian guided his hand into my throat until I gagged, my head tilted back, resting over the altar's edge. Firm fingers steadied my brow, while he extracted something from my throat. I thrashed, choked, yet he maintained unwavering control over the blade emerging from my mouth.

"Calm, my dear," he

soothed, exerting gentle pressure on my forehead.

In a heartbeat, the crescendo of agony ebbed. I collapsed, tumbling from the altar's edge.

The other Christian approached, lifting my head. "You have succeeded." He unveiled a blade, dark as night, gleaming akin to the stones ingested.

Remain with him, in the heart, within the red forest-I yearned to partake in his discourse, to unravel his intentions for this arcane relic. However, an inexorable force severed my connection to the red forest, depositing me back into consciousness, within the embrace of my bed.

The nocturnal room veiled me in near darkness, save for the corridor's muted nightlight. My corporeal form mirrored the disquiet within-I felt as though the experiences were tangible, the pain real. My throat desiccated, my mouth seared, and I staggered towards the bathroom, seeking respite beneath the faucet's cool flow.

The other Christian had omitted the extent of the torment. Blisters marred my tongue and lined my throat. Anathema to me, the red forest could not mend this injury. The searing truth struck-it transcended mere longing. A bullet to the mind would have been a benign pang compared to this.

Vivid lessons were garnered, yet within that moment, one truth shone with undeniable clarity-I had embarked upon a transformative departure from humanity. My reflection, a testament to that transformation, stared back at me from the mirror above the sink.

The other Christian spoke truth. The anguish, the sacrifice, the illumination they bestowed-all had conspired to render me more beautiful.