Scribbling Starfish

393 AC - I feel its pressure — voracious, primal — against my mind as it forces me to look at the happy starfish, whose limbs are wrapped around a scepter that looks like a stylus. I grit my teeth as I fail to prevent my mouth from watering, while my jailer can barely control its hunger. Just one mouthful. Just one bite would be enough. If only I had control, for just one moment, I could apply a Sigil to myself and maybe use it to bury my captor's psyche deep within my own, somewhere it could never escape. But I know it's pointless. It never sleeps. It's happy to just wait, in the corners of my mind, ready to kidnap my will. For a fraction of a second, I imagine grabbing the starfish for a quick snack, and I suppress a gag. I try to dismiss the nauseating thought. It's not my own… or is it? The boundaries have become so blurred.

The echinoderm starts to dance as its stylus glides through the air like a paintbrush on paper. It seems to be having fun, and I envy it. It scribbles a range of symbols, which it then rearranges and encircles to better contain the associated concepts. A wheel with no beginning or end. A prison. I observe the ideas it summons from the Empyrean and try to study the way it assembles them, almost by chance. The starfish isn't being asked to create known recipes. No, on the contrary, it seems to be going by feel, maybe with the aim of creating unique blends, original and surprising combinations. I swallow the saliva building up while cursing the worm that has made its home inside me. But no matter how much I insult and curse it, it never gets upset or offended. Danger. I narrow my eyes and look at the Mage staring at us. His long blue hair seems to float in an invisible sea, and his entire body is covered in intricate tattoos… For once, my jailer and I agree. He has the scent of a predator.

LINDIWE