Slumrat Rising

Truth was back in the reflection chamber. Naked again, but this time for a more practical than spiritual reason. Mastering the scales portion of Incisive was now an urgent necessity. He thought it was best to be comfortable in his own skin.

He looked around the tiny chamber. Still bare stone three meters square, a bowl, a mat, and nothing else. Only what he carried in with him. It had been… God, how long had it been? Not even a month, right? Or maybe a little over a month. Not long at all. But so much had changed. He had changed. The Truth who was carried out of this chamber last time was quite different from the Truth who walked in today.

Truth looked into the little basin of water. Strong face. The “him” before the well didn’t look much like this, but there were clues here and there. Something to the set of his eyes, particularly. That look that he had come to recognize as hardness. It probably said something that he saw hardness in his eyes when he looked at his reflection. Though the look was less mistrustful. It was less ready to lash out. Less afraid.

Had he learned to feel safe? To love himself and accept the love of others? The face in the water broke into a pained smile. No. Not really. He would probably spend the rest of his life learning to do that. However long that life wound up being.

In an odd sort of way, he was finding faith- faith that he would become someone who was enough. Someone who didn’t need to rely on outside strength. Someone who didn’t just join a fancy gang. Strength being defined as emotional, physical, and magical. He snorted- was faith in God just joining a fancy gang? Obviously, there was a lot more to it than that, but he did just rush some guys who had perched themselves unwisely at the intersection of politics and religion.

And who employed smugglers that called him a fuckboy. Which he would deny until the day he died.

Truth could believe that one day he would love himself. That one day, he could sincerely accept the love and goodwill of others. Not today, but one day. It was harder to believe that the words “I love you” wouldn’t stick in his throat. Hard to believe he could tell Etenesh what she deserved to hear.

Maybe he could tell her how scared those words made him feel. How vulnerable. How frightening it was to allow her to become a weakness of his. Admitting to her that she had a hold on him. He was overthinking it. He knew that. But still, the words sealed up in his throat and choked him.

He was stronger, faster, more elusive, and deadly in combat. His knowledge of the world had expanded exponentially. He felt like he was coming out of the valleys of ignorance and starting to climb the mountains of wisdom. He could see so much further now. He could see he wasn’t yet truly strong. He wasn’t yet safe.

So, the scales, then. They weren’t armor, not on a real snake, not in the spell. Thinking the scales looked like armor was a human thing. For the snakes, scales were just skin. Useful skin. They retained water in dry places and acted as camouflage or warnings to predators. They could even help the snake climb and move along the earth.

All well and good, but the spell was called Incisive, not Useful Things For Snakes. Botis named it that for a reason. The rest of the spell seemed to point directly to the name- the foresight, the cutting power, even the ability to debate or use rhetoric. But scales? How did scales tie into the word Incisive?

He knew what scales did for vipers in the wild, but Botis was a stellar demon of ancient and terrible power, just a few short steps from God. He was far, far more than just a snake. What did the scales mean to him?

Snakeskin. Shedding? Not really incisive. Just the opposite, actually. Identity? The camouflage or warning you show to the world? Again, not really incisive, and let’s be real, Botis gives exactly zero fucks about anyone’s opinion.

Oh, hang on. Wait… just a moment. There might be something there.

Identity… as a tool. Identity as something you grow into, then out of. Something you shed, an external layer that is part of you but not the core of you. You shed it when you grow, yes, but not only then. Vipers shed at least once a year. Removing all the dirt and grime they have accumulated before their new scales appear and harden.

Truth toyed with the concept for a moment. He wasn’t really a deep thinker on the subject of identity, but when your face and body radically transform… well. He’d thought on it some. What did an identity do for someone? Hell of a question, really.

Identity is necessarily tied to one’s sense of self, but it wasn’t all that you were. He had two identities- Tommy Wells, a Resident of Siphios, and Truth Medici, a Citizen of Jeon. But he never really considered those national parts of his identity unless they were immediately relevant to something. His identity as a brother to his siblings was always a core part of his identity. Soldier? Bodyguard? Mercenary? Those came and went, and he presented them like business cards to people as and when it became necessary.

Identity, telling the world what you wanted them to know, taking in what you needed, keeping the crap off of you, and ultimately, something to be discarded and reformed when all the crap burdening it got too much. Because while it was connected to you, and it was important, it wasn’t all of you. And the core of Incisive, the first law of the First Gem of Botis, was “Love yourself.” You didn’t need to be carrying the world’s shit.

The world didn’t get to define your identity, no matter how much dirt they put on it. You did. You used it to get straight to the point of whatever interaction you wanted to have with the world. Camouflage to hide from predators, to ambush prey, to scare away the things that spot you. To attract mates or establish status. Your external identity, your scales, was a tool to impose your reality on the world.

The idea knocked him flat on his ass, ignoring the cold stone floor to stare blindly up at the ceiling. Incisive was a comprehensive tool for imposing your will, your reality, on the world and not letting the world impose its reality on you. It cut to the point, the point being whatever your goals were.

What brilliance. What arrogance. The First Gem of Botis- Love yourself and fuck everyone else. They will do as you wish or perish, and none of their shit will muddy your boots. Not for long. Botis truly was a supreme demon, a snake unwilling to bend its neck for any purpose but to strike.

Truth started laughing. He laughed so hard he choked. He let his hands and feet drum on the ancient sandstone, applauding and cheering for the immortal arrogance of Botis. It all came together now. He had been doing things in a certain sequence because that’s how Merkovah had lined them up for him, but that’s not how it actually worked. It was all one spell. They all operated at the same time.

He could picture it perfectly. The scales- your identity in the world. How you defined yourself and how you wanted the world to define you. Changeable, as you grew and your needs changed. Foresight, the eyes, because you were always watching and wary. Opportunity and danger went hand in hand, after all. And to that end, the cutting portion, the fangs, retracted until the second it was needed to strike, then it vanished again. Always present, merely… reserved when not in use. Then there was the rhetoric. The debating, public speaking, and persuasive portion. The tongue, perhaps? Or the wisdom? Because one of the most potent ways to change the world was to make people change how they thought about it and themselves.

It was… almost perfect. He was sure there were endless details and layers of subtlety he was missing. But from the little corner of it that he could understand, the whole completed spell was sheer art. It was a whole operating system for living, as a spell. It was a statement about who you were and how you would live.

More than merely a spell, it was a philosophy. The First Gem of wisdom bestowed by Botis. Love yourself. Then put that love into practice. Love may be in many forms, but it is never passive. The viper is coiled, waiting, but alert. Its mind and will were always in motion, ready for the exact moment when victory was to be seized.

He sat on the mat and cast Incisive. Foresight, then fang, then the scales. It collapsed, as he expected. Where did the spell start? From within. From his will. It started with him. So his conception of himself was the place to build from. He cast the scales and felt it flicker around him. Not quite. Not quite stable yet. He could feel the air subtly change around him. It felt cleaner. The cosmic rays striking him were more orderly, for lack of a better term. As though they were told to tidy themselves and behave properly before they approached too close.

He could feel himself alternately fading into the background as though the room were totally empty, then snapping into focus. Then an even sharper focus, like he was the only thing truly real in the room. He couldn’t hold on to it, let alone direct it how he wished. But it was a start. More than a start. It was the path forward.

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Merkovah was delighted by Truth's progress when they sat for the tutorial.

“That is certainly one of the classic understandings of Incisive, though I will caution you that it is not the only one. Don’t go looking for texts on it. They are rare and can only slow you down now. Concentrate on your own conception and your understanding of Botis. The revelation on the mountaintop has given you an extraordinary edge in learning this spell. It would be a shame to slow your growth by internalizing the thoughts of others. Become competent with it first, then once you have stalled in your growth, go and see what other people thought.”

Truth thought that sounded sensible. However, “I want another crack at that demon if that would be OK?”

“Which demon?”

“Child Eater. The one you made a specialized curse tablet for?”

Merkovah shot to his feet. “BY THUNDER, YES! Merciful heavens, it has been a stressful, miserable few decades, and the last month has been particularly trying. No offense. You, Etenesh, and Jember have been some of the rare high points. It’s just hard to have a good time when the world is collapsing.”

Merkovah rubbed his hands.

“Yes indeed. Time to see what you can do now that you have some grasp of Incisive. And relieve some stress by torturing a truly wretched demon.”

“Should I pick up some snacks when I collect the cousins?”

“Yes. Get a variety, but avoid the “cheese” flavored plantain chips. I’ve investigated. The recipe is merely bad, not infernal, though the difference may be tiny.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“I wouldn’t even feed it to the Child Eater. Go!”

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