FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

CHAPTER THREE

ANDREW awoke to the sharp sound of something sliding across the stone floor. His eyes flashed open, and he looked frantically around the unfamiliar room. His nerves on edge, the events of yesterday came back to him, and he remembered where he was—a prison cell. More than just being trapped in a cell, he was also trapped in a foreign body.

No, he thought. It’s not true; it’s not your body. It’s not true... Andrew stalled his train of thought as he searched for something to occupy his mind.

He noticed that he now had two bowls of food, as opposed to last night. Then the smell of the food hit him. It was an incredible scent of salty meat, easily recognizable from his previous life. Except the smell was subtly different at first. With each inhale, he could sense a new underlying scent mixed in with the stronger ones. He recognized some of them as various animals, like the scent of a freshly opened package of chicken breast versus a contrasting scent of overdone steak. There were more scents he couldn’t recognize, ones he couldn’t even have conceived of before. Andrew wasn’t sure what the new smells indicated, or what they were each attached to. However, he did know one thing. They smelled delicious. The scents filled Andrew and created a bottomless pit in his stomach.

This prison must have a high food budget to serve something that smells that amazing to someone like me, Andrew thought.

Andrew uncurled himself from his circular bed and walked over to the bowls on the ground, almost drooling in anticipation. Looking inside, he was met with a sight that completely contradicted the scents from earlier. The stone bowls were filled with a cold gray sludge, clumpy with small bits of animal meat and bones. The slop didn’t appear fresh or even cooked. Andrew could feel bile rising in his throat. His hunger didn’t die, but the difference between sight and smell was jarring.

It smells so good, but in reality it’s just prison food—something you’d feed a slave. There must be something wrong with me— or the food.

Instead of eating, Andrew decided he would drink from one of the bowls of water to fill up his stomach. Taking the bowl up to his face, he licked some out of the bowl unconsciously. The lukewarm water was unsatisfying, although it felt nice to swallow something and rehydrate nonetheless. After a few laps with his rough tongue, he froze in place as he realized what he was doing. Wondering what had caused such a reaction, he thoughtfully stared at the clear, still water.

Andrew was licking water up like an animal and seemed to have the senses of one as well. The enhanced sense of smell and vision.

How much of my human self is left? Am I really just a…

Through the dim torchlight and his enhanced vision, he saw a distorted reflection in the bowl. Staring back at him was a white-furred cat-creature. Her eyes were big and round. She had a black nose and a frown on her cat-like face. Long, uncut, dark red hair hung down from her head, contrasted with her bright, almost glowing blue eyes. The reflection looked Andrew straight in his eyes, refusing to look away.

Andrew felt a momentary pang of sympathy for the sad girl. She looked like she was on the verge of tears. Then her eyes widened, and the sadness on her face turned to horror.

All of the thoughts and feelings Andrew had desperately avoided burst out of him. Just like the letters by his front door, Andrew had stepped over his obvious problems one too many times and had finally tripped over the pile. Andrew screamed in a shrill voice and flung the bowl into the wall, shattering it into a rain of pieces.

“I’m… I… I…” Tears streamed down his eyes as he shrank into a mess on the cell floor. Everything he touched with his fur reminded him, screamed at him what he had become.

“I… died.” He finally managed to squeak out. He covered his eyes with his furred arm. “I… I didn’t do anything! I was just walking like always… Games... Cigarettes... I never did anything. I couldn’t even finish my degree.” Regret and anger filled his thoughts as his hands clenched. He pounded a fist into the floor. “All that time, I was just stalling! And now it’s over, I’m dead, and now I’m in some ring of hell! Soulless they called me? Damn right! Whatever god there is took my humanity and sentenced me to being some freak!”

The mental and physical numbness Andrew had fought to preserve was ripped away all at once, replaced by anguish and discomfort. He could feel every new appendage, nerve, and feature. The pads on his feet, his tail and ears that had been swishing and angling incessantly on their own. It felt alien. The parts that he was used to had changed as well. His breasts were uncomfortable as they pressed into the floor. His face felt strange, with whiskers brushing into his arms. Worst of all, the phantom sensations of still having his manhood had disappeared.

Can I even call myself a man anymore? Moira addressed me as “miss”. The pervert dog stared at me. I don’t even have a… Andrew could hear the tide of thoughts in his mind. His regrets, his self-pity, his despair.

I wasted it all. I should be with my parents right now. They must have gone to heaven when they left me behind. Instead, I’m here, he thought. The worst part is, no one will miss me. The only impact I had, in the end, was saving that stupid cat.

It was too much for him to handle. He wanted to just fall asleep again and forget like he always had.

These feelings, this body. Forget about gender; am I even Andrew anymore? Andrew let the tears spill from his eyes and into the fur of his arms, drying and matting into his fur, his mind blanking out as he let himself once again drift off into sleep.

Unfortunately, his time for sleep was already used up.

What felt like only a wink of sleep later, he woke up stunned and dazed against the cold cell wall. He felt like he’d just been punched in the stomach, gasping for air. Andrew coughed in pain, looking up to see the leader before standing with his arms crossed.

That’s gonna leave a mark, Andrew thought dimly.

The man’s face was stone. “I told you to eat your food, you animal. Instead, I find it untouched, and a bowl smashed into pieces.” The man approached Andrew and lifted him up, slamming him against the wall by his throat. Andrew was suddenly very aware of the size and strength difference between him and an adult man as he was held to the wall with a single hand. Andrew choked and struggled to breathe in, pulling at the man’s hand.

This really is hell! I need to get out of here! Andrew thought with fear. He used his legs to kick out at the man, but the blows lacked leverage and power. Andrew might as well have been a child, kicking in futility with his padded feet.

“You’re lucky you’re so damn expensive, otherwise I’d knock your fangs out.” The leader dropped Andrew to the floor and pulled out a long metal stick with a sharp point on the end. The point was cut off from the rest of the metal rod by a small metal disk. He turned and handed the device to the male apprentice, presumably Gulf, who Andrew had heard speaking behind him the day prior.

“I know you’ve seen the city watch use these once or twice. I’m sure you figured out they work on Genitors too. Go ahead, you’re going to need to learn how to deal with these animals sooner or later.”

The leader stepped back and made a permissive sweeping motion towards Andrew. “Go ahead and try to fight back, kitten. It’ll just be better training for Gulf here.”

Gulf dropped his robe and stepped forward, holding the stick at a distance from his body. Underneath his cloak, Gulf wore a dark-colored set of underclothes, a plain shirt, and breeches secured below his knees. He kept the point of the rod towards Andrew, trying to close the distance slowly. Andrew glared at the point as he scrambled to pick himself up off of the cold floor. Instinctively, his fur prickled as he dropped into a low crouch.

Andrew could feel the fear mix with his thoughts of despair about his death and reincarnation, compounding into what felt like a heavyweight in his chest. He didn’t know what to do or how to fight, but he had no other choice.

Neither party wanted to get too close to the other. They circled each other in the cell, each waiting for their foe to make the first move.

Gulf stepped forward. The two locked eyes. Andrew saw no malice in his opponent’s eyes, unlike his own. Gulf’s bright eyes and thin eyebrows carried a determination like someone trying to solve a puzzle, deep in thought.

“Fine! You want to treat me like some science experiment? I’ll make sure to at least leave you with a mark!” Andrew knew his opponent couldn’t understand his declaration, but it didn’t matter. His tone said enough.

Andrew had no experience fighting, but his adrenaline and anger combined. For the first time since coming to this new world, Andrew felt entirely in tune with his body. He had an excuse to finally let all his pent-up feelings out on his captors, and he was ready for it. Andrew put every insecurity and doubt into his muscles, into his gut. He could feel them turn from a stone of weight to a lump of coal in his loins that fueled his movements.

Andrew’s crouch changed to a leap as he charged forward, closing the distance with a single jump. Andrew brought his right arm around, his claws extended and grasped out into the air as he swung at Gulf. The blow connected as Andrew raked his claws across Gulf’s exposed arm. Gulf jumped backward in shock at Andrew’s speed, looking at his arm.

“That’s right,” Andrew spat, “who’s in danger now, bastard!”

Andrew pressed the attack and slashed again, his claws extending as he flexed his fingers for the strike. Gulf brought up his arms to block the slashes aimed at his face. After a few repeated strikes, Andrew stepped back, grinning widely as he panted with exertion.

Andrew looked down at his hands, expecting to see his opponent's blood stained into his white fingertips. Instead, they were spotless, his black claws retracted into his fingertips. Andrew glanced back at Gulf. The skin on his arms was raised and red but not broken.

Andrew had forgotten that his claws were blunted.

Andrew clenched his hands in frustration, his blunt claws extending slightly and poking into his palms.

That’s why the leader wasn’t worried; he knew I could barely scratch Gulf, even if I hit him. Bastards probably made sure my claws weren’t sharp when they summoned me.

Andrew was disheartened, but the anger remained. He could still fight like a normal human. If he moved fast enough, he had a good chance of getting a dirty hit or two in.

But the repeated strikes had broken Gulf’s calm demeanor. After regaining his stance, he glared at Andrew with contempt. He held the rod less carefully before making his own attempt at a strike.

It came fast, a slashing strike aimed at Andrew’s side. It was too quick for Andrew’s inexperienced eyes to see, but his reflexes proved an even match for Gulf’s speed, and he reflexively dodged the sword. Andrew tried to edge a blow in, but the difference in reach between Andrew’s arms and the pseudo-rapier made it difficult for Andrew to do more than back up and dodge Gulf’s swings.

It’s like I’m fencing without a sword, and I’m running out of space! Andrew thought.

The strikes kept coming, wilder and faster. Gulf swapped between attempted stabs and slashes, causing Andrew to slowly lose his ground. Several of the attacks caught Andrew on different parts of his body, stinging brightly with a searing pain at each point of contact. Andrew was pushed all the way back to the wall, with no space left to dodge backward from the stabs again.

Except, his “sword” doesn’t actually have an edge—only a sharp tip.

With dodging out of the question, Andrew decided to take a final gamble. As another slash came, instead of dodging, Andrew put out a hand to stop it. The stiff metal slammed painfully into his outstretched hand, but he withstood it and took hold of the metal, inches from his body.

Andrew grinned. All he would have to do now was rip it out of Gulf’s hands and turn the tables.

Gulf was stunned by the interception of his weapon for a moment.

But then his eyes changed.

He shook his head as he looked at Andrew in disappointment, like watching an opponent make a critical blunder in chess. Andrew had stopped the lateral movement of the rod, but his fur-covered hands had little grip on the smooth metal.

Gulf twisted his arm to the side and pushed forward with the rod, the sharp metal tip just barely finding its mark in Andrew’s arm.

Andrew cursed mentally, filled with instant regret.

And then Andrew felt a familiar sensation. The same feeling of energy flowing out of him as the Track on his head. But instead of hearing foreign words change into understandable thoughts, he felt a numbing cold around the painful piercing of his enemy’s weapon. There was ice. It started at the end of the weapon and spread outwards over Andrew’s fur in a growing sheet. The drain of “energy” he felt was much more rapid than the translation Track on his head, and the sheet of ice quickly spread over his body to the rest of his limbs, crawling up his neck.

Before he had time to panic, Andrew crashed to the floor, losing balance as the ice-covered his body and immobilized his limbs. Then, in a flash, the weight of the numbing ice disappeared as it turned to hot steam around him. The drain of energy spiked in that brief moment. The feeling was so intense, Andrew saw stars and felt his stomach churn.

“Good work, Gulf.” The leader nodded in approval. “Now stand up, cat. You’ve got a long day ahead unless you want to get hit by the Freezestick again.”

Gulf stepped back, letting out a sigh of relief while Andrew did his best to pull himself upwards with the wall’s support. His legs were shaking. The small prick of the Freezestick was bleeding minimally, staining his already dirty white fur. Andrew shook his head, trying to regain his bearing.

“Follow now. Eat all of your food when you get back.” The leader commanded, Andrew following quickly.

Another walk through the corridor. Andrew’s ears drooped to the sides, and his tail nearly dragged in the dirt on the floor. His hands were left untied as he walked, free to rub his painful bruises. The nauseous feeling from the magical attack started to go away, but he still felt weak and lightheaded.

They think I’m so weak that they don’t even need to restrain me. Maybe they’re right, he thought.

Andrew sighed as the adrenaline rush wore off from his body, allowing him to feel the different bruises he had gained in his fight more sharply, along with the return of the pit in his stomach. The fight had provided a good outlet for his stress and cleared his mind, but the clarity only made the troubling reality of his defeat worse.

That had to have been magic— Syllogy. They used my own powers to freeze me while draining whatever energy it uses. What an awful device. Between magic weapons and my… current form, I don’t stand much of a chance at a head-on fight. I absolutely have to escape— and soon.

The group followed the same path towards the same circular room as before. They entered the aging door, same as before. But instead of staying in the room with the altar, they continued through a second door, into an office. Two desks dominated the room. One was in the center with a chair in front. It was large and wooden with intricately inscribed letters and a fanciful wave design. The other desk was at the far end of the room, flanked by dusty cabinets. They were covered in different papers and trinkets, similar to the shelves in the larger room next door.

“Stay in here and don’t touch anything, ” the gruff leader’s voice sounded behind Andrew before he walked out and closed the door behind him. A minute later, Moira walked in with a partner in tow, taking a moment to scratch the fur behind Andrew’s ears for a moment.

Moira pulled the chair in front of the center desk out for Andrew and then swung another chair over to sit opposite him.

“Go ahead, kitty. You can sit down. We have some paperwork to do here, and then you get some toys, okay?” She took out a stack of papers and laid out a few various forms on the desk.

“Miss kitty, I’m going to need you to stay still for Elra here. She’s going to be making a picture of your face, and she needs a few minutes of you being still. In the meantime, I’ll get a head start on some of this paperwork...”

Moira nodded to Elra, a tall, dark-haired woman with a set of bags under her grey eyes. She placed a stool and an easel down a few feet from Andrew and pulled out a small device the shape of her finger. It was a cylinder made from metal wire, with a small circle on the bottom. A bottle of ink was attached to the side of the cylinder, with a small tube leading down to the bottom. Her eyes traced over Andrew’s face with boredom as she pulled the small device onto her index finger and pressed it to the easel. Andrew tried to avoid jittering as Ella traced over him with her tired eyes.

She hasn’t looked down or moved her hand once. That’s one interesting way to draw, Andrew thought.

After a few minutes of Andrew holding still, Elra lifted her finger and the device attached to it from the paper, the bottle of ink half-full. Elra forcefully pulled her finger from the inside of the device, revealing a small drop of blood oozing from her fingertip, which she subsequently wiped on her brown robe.

Definitely magic. Why do all of these items require some kind of stabbing? he thought, rubbing the Track on his head.

Moira picked up the paper off the easel and glanced between it and Andrew.

“This one came out very nicely. Thanks for the help Elra.”

Elra rolled her eyes and walked out of the room without a word, shooting a glare at Andrew.

“Don’t mind her,” Moira said. “She thinks she’s above picturing a soulless, but she’s probably the best Ink teacher at the academy. Just take a look. It’s you!”

Moira turned around the paper. It was an extensive form, packed with the script of an unknown language. In the top left was a box, and in that box was a black and white picture of a cat-girl, her large eyes and ears pointed off to the side with a slight smile on her face. The picture was a life-like drawing, but it looked as though someone had drawn the entire thing without picking their hand up off the paper. Every line of the drawing was connected very faintly with a small, nearly invisible, line between them.

The well-drawn artwork didn’t hurt Andrew like his reflection did in the morning. It looked like something he had seen on the internet, not an accurate depiction of what was supposed to be himself.

Is that really me? he thought.

Moira pulled the paper back to her side desk and uncapped an ornate fountain pen.

“I’ll just fill out the rest of the form for you,” Moira said, spending a few minutes filling empty spaces on the paper.

She glanced over the paper once before nodding to herself.

“One last thing to add, we need to put your name on this...” Moira shuffled through her stack of papers looking for the right one. Selecting the right article, she pushed up her glasses and looked closer. “Aha! Says here that your name was… Celeste! Very pretty, it fits your… petite look. I hope you learn to write it later. For now, I’ll just write it for you...”

Being called Celeste made Andrew’s stomach churn, one of his ears twitching slightly. He couldn’t help but question whether he was even himself anymore. He had a new name, a new body. According to Moira, he used to just be an average cat before now.

None of this will matter when I leave this hell tonight, I’ll put this all behind me, he thought.

Moira frowned as her eyes wandered to the bottom of the form. She took a sharp breath in as she mulled something over to herself. Then she looked back at Andrew with a serious look on her face, a stark contrast to her typical casual, genuine smile.

“Now, Celeste,” Moira said, “I need you to agree to something for me, please. Typically it’s not read out to soulless at all, but I think you deserve the truth.” Moira cleared her throat and straightened her posture.

“You, G158, Celeste, hereby agree to enter a period of indentured servitude of ten years in accordance with Roundel States Statute forty-seven, the banning of slavery.” Moira paused and pushed up her glasses. “You agree to work for Mr. Alazar of the Starry Night Theater without compensation or release from this contract until expiration in exchange for housing and sustenance. You may renew this contract at the end of expiration. Please sign here.”

Moira turned the form around to face Andrew and laid the pen over it. “I know a lot of those words may not have made sense to you, Celeste, even with the translation Track. But please just make some sort of mark above the line here.”

Andrew looked Moira in the eyes.

They went through the trouble of banning slavery just to make some bullshit loophole around it?

“You want me to agree to slavery? Where do you people get off on this? No. This is ridiculous!” Andrew shook his head to cement the point and pushed the form away.

Moira frowned with an expression like she had just seen a child ask something they wouldn’t understand until they were older.

“Kitty… I understand. You must not have been pleased with his ownership before,” Moira said, clasping Andrew’s hands.

“I don’t want to say it, but... You don’t really have a choice. Usually, people just sign these forms themselves without the soulless seeing it once. But like I said, I think your kind deserves the truth. When we outlawed slavery, our grandparents thought soulless would at least have a chance at freedom. But now, with what happened to Ervale…” Moira grimaced with a sad look in her eyes. “Anyway, Celeste. You have to sign. Please, please, please don’t make me tell the people outside you refused.” Moira pushed the pen into Andrew’s hand and slid the paper back. She tapped the blank spot on the paper.

Andrew stared at the pen in his hand, torn. It was the first decision he’d been given in his new life, at all. He had been dragged from place to place, beaten, stabbed, and thrown in a cell. It was also the most important decision, a paper that clearly stated his fate. Ten years, without a possible break in contract. Slavery.

And yet, it’s not a decision at all. Moira’s not asking. She only thinks I deserve to know.

Andrew gripped the pen in his fist tightly, his hand trembling with strain. Then he sighed and relaxed his grip, uncapping the pen.

Andrew gritted his teeth and smiled. He wrote out “kiss my ass” in English above the line.

How’s that for a signature, he thought.

“Thank you, kitty,” Moira said, scratching behind Andrew’s ears.

“You are now officially G158- Celeste. Make sure to remember that in case you need to ever sign any more important documents.”

Moira let out a long exhale in relief. “Sorry for that. Maybe it would have been nicer to not tell you the truth… But to make up for it, I have those toys I promised.”

She leaned down and picked up a small box lined with felt.

Your owners paid extra for a collar for you in whatever color matched your earrings, so this one is really pretty!” Moira opened the box and displayed a gold chain with a small golden plate on the front with an ornate inscription. Moira took the collar and walked behind Andrew to place it around his neck.

Andrew shifted uncomfortably in his seat, earning a small scratch between the ears from Moira for him to settle down. Andrew heard the chain click behind him in a clasp. He could feel Moira pressing hard into the back of his neck when suddenly the chain tightened snug around his neck.

“Alright! I’m a little rusty with the type of Track in this thing, but I got the job done. Don’t try and take it off, by the way, you’ll probably end up choking yourself to death. Does it hurt at all?”

Andrew shook his head. The chain had just enough give to allow breathing and free movement without any sort of pain. But the cool metal on his neck was enough reminder to him that he was now officially registered as an owned item.

Moira took a step back and looked at Andrew. “Oh my god! That looks so good! Like a little necklace for kitties! Wanna see?” Not waiting for an answer, Moira turned and rummaged through a pile of junk behind her. With an “Aha,” she walked over and placed a swiveling face mirror on the desk. “See? I’m sure you feel better with a shiny new toy.”

Andrew looked at the mirror. In it, he saw a comical sight. With a real mirror in front of him, he could really see all the details he had missed the last times he’d caught a glimpse of the sullen cat-girl. The shining golden collar really did look like a necklace. The bright gold chain was clean and expensive-looking, unlike its wearer. Andrew didn’t need to be able to read to know that the collar’s nameplate had “Celeste” inscribed on it. The golden jewelry contrasted the rest of the girl’s distressed state, it seemed many details which the magical drawing from earlier conveniently left out. The side of her face was stained with dried blood. Her white fur was covered in dirt, and the long red hair was fraying and nowhere near straight. Her eyes were a bright blue, an almost glowing wondrous sky-blue color with flecks of deep blue floating in his irises.

Her eyes... Those eyes! That color! Andrew’s heart stopped as he locked eyes with the girl in the mirror.

That’s all that’s left of him. Of me.

They were the exact same color as his own, from his past life. Andrew bit into his lip and clenched his fists, looking away from the mirror.

Moira noticed the reaction to his reflection and pulled the mirror away.

“I-is it that shocking? The last Genitor seemed very pleased with how he looked… I’m sorry. You’ve probably noticed your eyes and fur color are different— we’re not sure why that happens, but it always happens during conversion. Genitors sometimes get some very unique colors. It’ll take some getting used to, but I want you to know that you are beautiful. It shows through— even though you look a little rough right now.”

Oh, I think I know why the eye color changes, Andrew thought bitterly.

“I have another gift for you, though. I actually made it myself yesterday. I really think you’ll like it.”

Moira opened a desk drawer with a wide smile, pulled out a gray pillow, and tossed it to Andrew.

Reflexively catching, it was some sort of gray stuffed animal with two black buttons for eyes.

Andrew looked back at Moira quizzically.

“It’s a mouse! I thought you might be lonely… Or bored. I haven’t sewn anything in a while, and I thought you might like it. The mouse has a little secret though, see if you can find it!”

Andrew inspected the crude mouse animal. It barely resembled a mouse, just in the general shape of one with button eyes and a small tail. But on the back of the mouse, Andrew found a small, inconspicuous flap. It had just enough room to fit a finger inside the flap, and when he felt around inside, he felt something very sharp and pulled out.

What kind of joke is this?

Moira giggled at Andrew’s expression. “It’s an old Track, kitty! I took it out of an antique kettle. Some people back in the day would just put unsigned Tracks on random things to make them seem more functional or expensive— even if the customer couldn’t actually use them. I tried it out this morning, and it works really well. Let me show you.”

Moira put her hand out, and Andrew handed the stuffed mouse back to her. Moira stuck her finger into the flap without hesitation and closed her eyes for a few seconds to concentrate, and then pulled her finger out—with a small drop of blood on it— and wiped it on her cloak. She handed the toy back to Andrew, and it was immediately noticeable. The mouse was comfortably warm in his hands.

“I thought it would be a good way for you to learn about Syllogy and give you a little friend,” Moira said. “Do you like it?”

This thing has magic in it? For me? Maybe I can use it as some sort of weapon. Andrew thought.

He nodded wildly and hugged the soft toy, trying to convey his gratitude and desire to learn more.

“Well, you’re welcome, Celeste. It’s good to finally see you smiling. But first, there are a few things you need to know so you don’t hurt yourself,” Moira said.” First of all, the Track in that toy is an unsigned Air Heat one. This means what it’s doing is basically heating up the air inside the mouse. Because it’s unsigned, that means it’s very volatile and flexible in what you can do with it. If you mess up, you could heat only spots of it, not heat any of it at all, or in the worst case, catch it on fire.”

Andrew shot a wary glance at the mouse in his arms and held it less tightly.

She made me a stuffed animal fire-bomb?

“When a track is “signed” by someone,” Moira continued, “It locks whatever action was done into place and makes it possible to be done by anyone, consistently and easily. That’s why the one on your head is so easy to use. Whoever signed it went through all the trouble of changing language for you.”

Andrew scratched at the Track on his head. I wonder just how hard it is to use Syllogy. Or is it just too dangerous for most people?

“There are two main rules to Syllogy,” Moira continued. “One: a Track can only do things based on what words it was made with. Each of the little circles is a different word, either a noun or an action. They read like a sentence. Air Heat is two rings— two words, so all it can do is take air, and then heat it. Your translation Track is pretty complicated in comparison. Thought Tracks are a bit outside my realm of expertise. The other main rule: it runs off of blood, based on the difficulty of what you’re doing. Heat and cool are some of the most consuming ones. If you go too far, you can pass out or even die of blood loss.”

Andrew grimaced. So it’s not energy, but my blood that was being burned off by that Freezestick.

“There are a few other little details, like strategies in Syllogy, the fact that you have to touch whatever you’re affecting, and the different words, but I’m sure you’ll figure that out on your own. Just try not to hurt yourself while you play with your mouse. Don’t go overboard!”

CHAPTER FOUR

AKI awoke peacefully as the cracks of light shone into her crawl space. As her mind transitioned from rest to alertness, she remembered the circumstances of her slumber.

I… guess this wasn’t the worst spot to sleep, she thought.

Aki stretched out an arm and knocked the piece of wood concealing her out of the way. Shimmying out, she stretched her cramped muscles and rubbed her neck. Aki looked back at her spot with a shiver.

I made it out this time, but if they had found me while sleeping…

She dismissed the line of thought quickly, trying not to think about the potential dead-end of the dangerous situation.

She did a check of herself and her surroundings, preparing for the day. Her light and dark brown fur was scraggly from her sleeping position. Bits of fluff were flattened out, others sticking out against the grain of her fur. Her tan shorts and tunic were a little worse for wear from her acrobatics the night before.

Aki took some time to straighten her fur out, preparing to walk out into the street. She climbed out the window she had vaulted through last night, scaling down into the alley below. It was clear of people, but she still scanned from side to side nervously as she exited the alley.

Stepping out into the street, Aki tried her best to relax and appear casual. She needed to keep her head down and pretend to be on some tedious task to get back to the hideout without being stopped by any of the city guards.

The city of Ralmia was cracking down on the unowned populace due to the sudden uptick in crime. Traveling during the day was a double-edged sword. If she could look like a standard, upstanding city-soulless doing errands for her master, she would be able to go most places without trouble. But if she were discovered as the unowned criminal she was, she’d have very little chance to escape capture in broad daylight.

During the night, Aki would be in trouble if spotted at all, but she would at least have a decent shot at escape, as demonstrated by last night’s chase.

Walking past a guard, Aki smiled and waved, forcing her nervousness away best she could. The guard wore a light set of armor. A padded leather chest piece with a chain-mail shirt over top, with greaves and a steel helmet to complete the set. He carried two weapons at either side of his hip—a short sword in its scabbard on his left and a Freezerod on the right. The rapier-like Syllogic weapon indicated that the man was a part of the city watch and not just an ordinary soldier.

Aki side-eyed the weapon as she passed by, wondering how difficult it would be to pilfer the device.

Aki sighed. Why couldn’t they just leave us alone? I wouldn't do this to them if the roles were reversed— hunting us down, imprisoning us.

Ever since the destruction of the Free Cities, an atrocity ordered by the latest emperor to induct the remnants of the free soulless populations into bondage, Aki had lost everything. Aki’s kind had only enjoyed a few short generations—roughly a hundred years— of freedom before the door was slammed shut, and they returned to the status quo of slavery that had been present since the first Genitor was summoned.

Aki made her way through the slums of eastern Ralmia all the way to the central shopping district without being stopped. As the flow of traffic increased, Aki finally felt somewhat secure. There were soulless and humans alike all over the cobbled streets. Stands were set up in tight proximity to each other, each peddling their own specialties of goods. The only buildings that didn’t have stands in front of them were the dedicated shops and businesses that paid muscle to force over-enthusiastic merchants off their property.

The recent influx of wealth brought to Ralmia from the mass registration of soulless had seemingly trickled down to much of the central buildings; new buildings reaching stories taller than the last were constructed, adorned by expensive carved stone and wood architecture.

The general bustle of Ralmia felt like the perfect cover to Aki. No one was looking at her. If she was even glanced at, most people would forget her within moments. Ironically enough, the busy streets of Ralmia were one of the only places she felt like she wasn’t being watched.

I hate this place, Aki thought, the way it makes me feel, the things it makes me do. And it’s all because of this stupid city.

Aki kicked a stray rock angrily with her bare foot as she walked past the area filled with food stands. Fresh meat and vegetables and the smell of cooking made her nearly drool, another reminder that Ralmia had taken even the simple satisfaction of a hot meal from her.

Before long, Aki was past the busy central district of Ralmia and approaching the city's northern edge. The farther from the center of the city she got, the more sparse things got. The northern area of the city was considered a step up from most places, and the area was mostly residential with a few small shops. The buildings were grayed by time, and only one to two floors— a stark contrast to the tall and imposing designs of some of the buildings in the city's commercial zones.

Eventually, Aki found herself in front of what she had come to know as home in the past few months. An unassuming, small general store - named simply “WALL GENERAL”, the faded text scrawled on a wooden sign over the front door. Aki walked around back, avoiding the main entrance. Aki rapped on the door with her knuckles.

“Hey! It’s me! Open up!” She yelled.

The door opened slightly, with only enough space for an eye to look outwards at her. With a loud snort, the door opened, revealing a towering figure in the doorway.

Aki locked eyes with the man, looking up at the wolf-soulless that was more than a few heads taller than her.

“Hey Ralphie! Still being the shop’s guard dog?” Aki said with a big grin.

Ralph rolled his wolf-eyes as he let Aki past him.

“And where have you been, little Ms. Raccoon?” Ralph asked.

Aki stopped in place and glared back at Ralph.

“I told you not to call me that. I’m not some lazy trash-panda! Tanukis are closer to foxes or dogs than those things.”

Ralph chuckled and shook his head.

“Just because I’m a little fluffy and have dark spots around my eyes…”

Aki grumbled as she continued walking through the dimly lit back-room of the store. The room was filled with shelves and the general back-stock of the store. A crooked, round table sat in the center surrounded by a few wooden chairs and empty crates. Laid out neatly on the table were stacks of papers, with multiple pots of ink and quills.

Lording over the papers was a small rat gentleman. His vest was nothing fancy, but the slight departure in fashion from the typical tunic that a soulless wore gave him an extra air of superiority. His top-hair was a clean-cut black, a shade deeper than his gray fur.

“Ah, Aki. I was afraid something might have happened to you. I’m glad to see you’re just as lively as ever.” The rat-man said, still looking at his papers with furrowed eyebrows.

“Things went a little south, but it all turned out alright. I think I might’ve found the last thing of value in that place, Francis.”

Francis looked up from his papers as Aki pulled her treasure out of her pocket and set it on the table. He unfurled the crumpled up glove and looked at the shiny metal ring in the palm of the glove.

“I see. It seems you might have found something valuable. Allow me to decipher it.”

Francis rose from the table and pushed his chair in. He walked over to one of the shelves where various books sat. He pulled off the largest one, a tattered book with rings of glue on it from where the original Tracks had been pulled off and presumably sold.

Francis opened the book next to Aki’s glove and flipped through it. Landing on the right page, he studied the center ring closely.

“The inner one is ‘Air’.”

Francis flipped through to a different section on the book, taking more time to study the outer ring of the Track on the glove.

“Push.” Francis said.

“Push? Who is Push? Please tell me he’s famous.” Aki said.

“No, no. The second word in the Track is push. It’s unsigned. Probably an old mage training glove. For practice.”

Aki smacked her hand into her forehead. “Dammit! It’s gotta be worth something at least, right? I mean, it’s in a glove and metal…”

Francis sighed and folded up the glove to protect the Track in the center.

“I’m sorry, Aki, but there’s no market for old unsigned junk anymore. Average humans don’t have the skills to practice unsigned Syllogy anymore. They only buy signed Tracks now that even children could use. That’s where all the money is.”

Aki crossed her arms. “Could you at least try? Or- just keep it. I don’t want the damned thing.”

“No, Aki,” Francis said. “I own a general store, not an antique shop. We sell the things we steal, sure. But nothing so special that it might arouse suspicion. We wouldn’t want the city guard to discover that there was a store being run by free soulless, right under their noses.”

Aki snapped up the glove with a huff, squeezing the wadded glove tightly in her hand.

“Thanks for taking a look at it, Francis…”

Aki walked upstairs to her room with her head hung low. She had gotten her hopes up. She figured it would pay for at least a month’s worth of food or more. But instead, all she had was a junky bit of metal with a tough piece of cloth attached.

The book this thing fell out of was probably actually worth something. I’ll never be able to find it now, Aki thought.

Aki opened the door to the glorified closet she and Dempsey stayed in. Dempsey was sitting on the bed, writing something on a sheet of paper. His yellow fur gleamed in the sunlight coming through the window. Dempsey’s long rabbit ears stuck up from his head. Dempsey was bare-chested, revealing his soft and skinny form, a contrast to Aki, who was lean but solid from exercise.

Aki felt her cheeks heat up a little at seeing him half naked, but she quickly brushed it off. Aki went and sat on the bed across from him. Their room together was tight, with barely a foot between the two beds and a small chest at the end of each bed, one to hold personal possessions.

“Aki, you’re late! I was starting to get worried. “

Dempsey put down his paper and quill to look over Aki.

“Did you get hurt at all?”

Aki crossed her arms and pouted.

“Not physically… But I… I thought I found something valuable… It felt like I had finally made progress towards finding my Mom and Dad,” Aki said.

“Don’t worry about that, Aki. You’ll find them sometime. You might not even need money to find the information, the way things have been going for me. That tip I gave you might not have worked out perfectly, but it was still a good one,” Dempsey said.

Aki huffed and relaxed her crossed arms. “I guess so… You’ve always been a good talker, even when we were kids. It makes sense you’d do well as an information dealer. I don’t think I’m any good at being a thief. It’s too scary! I almost messed up the safest possible job you could have given me! I need to do something else.”

“Aki, please. Your acrobatics are top notch. Whatever went wrong, the fact that you made it away speaks volumes about your talent. There are other jobs I could arrange for you, but none of them are very… savory,” Dempsey said.

“I don’t care! I’ll do literally anything as long as it’s safer than stealing people’s old junk!”

Dempsey sighed. “Okay, Aki. I was working on getting some better jobs for you, maybe even getting you into a crew. But, there are some other jobs for you. There’s a party at Baxter’s tomorrow. They’re looking for girls for entertainment. Otherwise, there’s a brothel you can join on the south side, and I know they’re always looking for girls your age.”

“I-I don’t understand what you’re saying. You want me to be a prostitute? Why can’t I be a guard or a waitress or something?” Aki asked.

“I told you, burglary is your best option. No one is looking for a seventeen-year-old girl as a bodyguard. We’re criminals just by existing, there’s no normal jobs to be had like there were back home. The closest is working for Francis, but he can’t afford to pay you on top of already feeding you every day. Just be thankful you have the skills you do; otherwise, you wouldn’t have a choice between being a thief or a prostitute at all,” Francis said.

Aki rubbed her temples with her hand. “Why can’t I do your job? I could be your assistant! We could be a team!”

“I can barely afford to help you as is. Do you know how much time and information it cost just to find out that your parents were even alive? I don’t expect you to pay me back, but I’m not going to be able to figure anything else out without more money. I’m sorry.”

Aki’s ears drooped to the sides. He’s right. I’ve basically been freeloading the past few months. Ever since we left Ervale, I haven’t done more than work the storefront.

“No, I’m sorry. You’ve helped me so much. Bringing me here, finding me jobs. Looking for my parents. I’ll pay you back, even if I have to… do things I don’t want to.”

Dempsey leaned over to Aki and pulled her head to his chest, hugging her gently. “Thank you, Aki. I don’t want to push you, but winter will be here soon, and we’re running out of time and money.”

Aki rested in Dempsey’s arms, relaxing as some of her stress was soothed away.

I’ll do better next time. I’ll make everyone proud and find my parents. I won’t let you down, Aki thought.

Dempsey released his hug on Aki and stood up.

"Sorry, I have a meeting to get to. I’ll try to keep an ear out for you.” Dempsey pulled on a tan buttoned shirt and walked to the door.

“Get some rest, Aki. If you’re committed to being a burglar, you’re going to have to start going out at night more and more. And definitely take your staff next time,” Dempsey suggested.

Dempsey exited the room with a wave and shut the door behind him. Aki laid back on her thin mattress stuffed with hay. She laid on her side to avoid pinching her tail and closed her eyes to try and go to sleep. But having just woken up, all Aki managed to do was frustrate herself.

I’m gonna have to start staying up all night to fall asleep in the day, she thought.

Aki couldn’t help but wonder about her parents, as she did every day. She hadn’t seen them since before she had been woken by Dempsey mid-hibernation.

Dempsey has helped me so much ever since we were kids. I shouldn’t be such a burden to him all the time, she thought.

Bored, Aki took the glove out of her trousers. She unfurled it to reveal the small rings in the center. The glove was of decent construction; the tough strips of fabric were rough in her hands. Perhaps it was a very thin leather or a specially treated cloth. Aki wasn’t sure, but it was dyed black nevertheless. The size of it seemed about right for her small hands. The thumb of the glove was noticeably absent from the rest.

They probably used this to train children…

Aki slipped the glove onto her right hand. The glove fit snug, with the Track right in the palm of her hand.

I wonder how this Syllogy stuff works… Not that I could ever use it, she thought.

That’s how it always was. Aki had never had enough money to even be near one of the Syllogic devices a human used. She knew it had something to do with blood and thinking, but not much else. Across the inside of the glove Aki felt a metal bar along the inside of the glove, extending from the Track towards the space between her thumb and her index finger. In that space, Aki noticed a small metal spike prodding up from the fabric.

Is this how it works? She thought.

Aki looked at the top of the spike. It came to a definite point. Aki gently touched the top, curious of just how sharp these devices were.

When Aki touched a finger to the point, she felt something strange. A pull on her finger and on her mind. The metal felt cool to the touch of her finger, but there was something more. The metal felt like it was taking more than just the warmth of her finger.

Aki removed her finger. She had only intended to just touch the spike, but it had pierced her all the same. Aki stared at her bleeding finger, then looked back at the spike. She couldn’t shake the feeling of touching the point. The sensation of touching it. It had felt like her thoughts were being pulled towards her finger.

There’s something… I need to… Touch it again…

Aki pushed her right thumb onto the spike forcibly this time. The small metal pierced into her, and she felt the same drain as before, only much more intensely. Aki focused on the feeling in her mind, her thoughts being pulled towards her finger. Then, she felt her thoughts go further. She felt something outside of her finger, a new appendage attached directly to it. She felt the appendage hum with power more and more.

What is this feeling? It’s so intense, like this thing is almost… A part of me?

Aki shook her head, trying to regain control of her train of thought. She noticed that she had been holding her breath throughout this whole period of concentration.

Aki exhaled.

A sudden rush of wind launched out of the palm of Aki’s right hand with great force, throwing it backward and launching Aki into a spin on her bed. She landed face down in the sheets, her hand knocking against her bedroom wall.

Aki pulled herself up off the bed and looked around frantically on all fours. There was a small line of blood sprayed across her covers, leading to her right hand. She raised her hand to inspect it. Her finger was bleeding minimally from the prick.

This is impossible! I can’t believe it! There has to be some mistake. I’m not a Genitor- I have parents, I don’t have any earrings or strange markings.

Aki stretched her right hand outwards, with her palm facing away from her. She pressed her pricked thumb into the side of the glove once more. The feelings returned. She could feel the Track draining her and becoming a part of her. The metal felt like it was alive, and a part of her body. The more she focused on it, the more she felt its strength grow.

Release! Air! Push! Air push! She thought, trying to make the Track work as before.

Aki tried a few more phrases in her mind, even saying them out loud. Then she remembered the feeling of her exhale from before. She felt something change in the Track, and the gathered energy rushed out all at once.

The gust of wind shot out of her hand forcefully, and she was slammed against her bedroom wall.

I’m… I can use Syllogy! This is insane!

A wide smile spread across Aki’s face. She un-stuck her thumb from the spike and put it in her mouth.

Aki was engrossed in her new discovery, excited to try the Track out as much as possible. Her treasure had gone from a good find, to worthless, and now back to the most exciting thing she had ever discovered.

Aki pressed her finger back onto the spike again. She braced herself against the wall and fired off gust after gust of wind, trying to control it with her thoughts. She tried different words in her mind, and attempted to imagine what she wanted to happen. Aki tried to reduce its power or make it more focused, but the wind wouldn’t obey her mental commands. It shot out at different angles, different levels of intensity. It seemed completely random. At times the wind would seem to follow her commands, but then it would do something wildly different a second later.

Drat! I have to be missing something! No wonder humans stopped using unsigned Tracks. This is impossible, she thought.

As Aki made more and more gusts, trying to harness her new power, she began to feel weak. Her hands and feet started to feel cold. Aki dismissed the feelings easily, totally engrossed in her practice. She tried to aim at different things in the bedroom, stirring Dempsey’s sheets into a mess. Aki removed her thumb from the spike for a break. Then it hit her. Aki felt dizzy. Her vision swam and blurred. She tried to blink it away, but a wave of nausea hit her. Her vision grew narrower and narrower until finally, Aki collapsed onto the bed.