Treyst & Rossum

Every morning, as he wakes up and stares at the ceiling of his room, he remembers the long months when he was imprisoned in his bed, unable to get out on his own. He recalls the painful anxiety, the knot in his stomach. Even though today, all he has to do is retrieve the Kelon batteries from their charging station to regain the use of his legs, he still remembers the painful experience of seeing his limbs inert, without truly feeling their presence. The ritual is always the same: he inserts the batteries into his spine and waits until tingling sensations travel up his nerves and he is able to contract his toes.

Then he places his feet on the floor, testing their stability. Once he feels ready, he straightens up, leaning on the railing of his bed, takes a few steps to warm up his numb muscles. The journey from his quarters to the Athanor, the technocenter of the Foundry, is arduously long. He regularly takes breaks to massage his thighs and calves, takes the elevators whenever he can. A few years ago, his condition filled him with silent rage that waited for the slightest opportunity to surface. How much he hated his life, his diminished body... But today, he is at peace with himself, even though he must constantly deal with the pain and mood swings that come with it.

They were two dreamers in the Kurung, the military barracks of the capital: Paju and him, two nobodies with big ambitions. Like the other wards of Asgartha, they woke up at dawn to the sound of trumpets and watched the Aegis cadets train in the courtyard as the sun rose. They passed by the Small Tribunal to go to the mess hall, wolfing down their breakfast before starting their day of chores. And like all the residents of the orphanage, they hoped someone would come for them. A family, or maybe even a Faction. But Treyst and Paju were not the ones to stand out in anything.

They had no natural affinity for Alteration. They were too puny for the Bravos or the Ordis. Their artistic talents were close to nil... They also made a pact: if they left the orphanage, it would be together and no other way. Armed with all these observations, they set their sights on the Axiom, whose entrance exams were much more lenient than those of other Factions. And Paju... his dream was to fly. Perhaps become an airline pilot and roam Asgartha, or an airship pilot, flying in tight formation against fearsome Leviathans. They spent many hours watching zeppelins and aerodynes take off from the airfield, watching the parade of airships leaving the altiport for other regions of the peninsula. Sometimes, they could see them taking off from the Arsenal, roaring at full speed. Over the years, Paju's dream had also become Treyst's dream.

During a simple topographic reconnaissance mission, their aerodyne was tasked with flying over the coast to take measurements. But a sudden fog caught them off guard as they were mapping the terrain. As they turned back towards Asgartha, appendages emerged from the waters and sought to grab the aircraft in mid-flight. Paju dodged the tentacles, trying to gain more altitude. But one of them struck the transport head-on, shattering the windshield and tearing the armored hull. In a desperate effort, Treyst managed to bring the aerodyne back to Asgarthan territory. But the plane crashed on a beach without him being able to bring it back to safety.

When he woke up a few days later, he discovered the extent and severity of his injuries. His back had been broken, as well as his legs and one of his arms. He was covered in bruises and wounds... When the doctors revealed to him that he would probably never walk again, it was like a stab in the heart. But the fatal blow was discovering that his lifelong friend had not survived the incident. In the fog of his mind, he grasped some fragments. That their reconnaissance aerodyne had been attacked by the Kraken, the Leviathan that roamed beyond the walls of Asgartha. That their transport had suffered multiple failures, including the loss of both engines... But he only half-heard the details, as if he had remained trapped in the fog since that fateful day.

He spent many weeks bedridden, eyes lost in emptiness, as if he were dead. And something in him truly died that day. His recovery was slow and painful. Every day, nurses took care of his absent and atrophied limbs, hoisted him onto a wheelchair to take him for walks in the Caduceus gardens. But his mind was elsewhere, reliving the disaster endlessly. One day, when he could, he used his Construct to summon Paju's Eidolon. The young man materialized, true to himself, trying to lift his friend's spirits. But it was only a phantom image, a remnant that dissipated as soon as the Mana infused into it dissipated. Every time the Eidolon disincarnated, Treyst cried hot tears. He screamed at the world, shouted until he lost his voice…

Yet, it was this fleeting presence that gradually brought Treyst back to life. He was there during his rehabilitation sessions, when he put one foot in front of the other, sweating profusely. He was there when he fell, urging him to get up. His hand rested on his shoulder when he cried in the middle of the night, after dreaming he was running... He was there to listen to him when he ranted against his existence and the whole world. He was there. Just there. And he would always be there, as long as Treyst needed him... Paju had always been his best friend, his big brother, the driving force of his life. But now, it was up to him to take the reins. He owed him that much. That's what he wanted. What he would have wanted.

Thanks to a Graft, Treyst regained partial use of his limbs. During his hospitalization, he saw many others in the same situation as him, living the same nightmare, facing the same trials. When he was allowed to leave the Caduceus, he applied to the department of the Foundry responsible for manufacturing the Grafts. Focusing his attention on their fabrication prevented him from dwelling on the constant pain. For almost a decade, he took refuge in this routine. Working on the prostheses meant helping others, relieving them of their pain. And perhaps somewhere, he was also seeking relief for himself.

He was still called upon to reinforce the ranks of the naval air repair teams, but being around his former comrades had become torture as the absence of Paju was glaringly obvious. But by immersing himself in work, Treyst began to make a name for himself within the Faction. Of course, his story was whispered about in hushed tones, when those who knew were questioned about the permanent presence of Paju's Eidolon by his side. But apart from this puzzling eccentricity, many came to praise his technical abilities and sought his attention on thorny mechanical or energy problems. And he was grateful for that. It was better than moping around his apartments, with only his faithful Brassbugs as friends…

All the pieces of the puzzle were present, however: a Construct in place of a brain, a Kelon core replacing the heart, an artificial body to serve as a host... The solution came from the Heka, the Alteration discipline of the Ordis. By using their Glyphs, Treyst could create sorts of psychic chains that anchored themselves within the Eidolons to compel them to remain confined. When he presented the result of his research, Frankenstein seemed satisfied with the prospects. The decision was made to move on to practical application, to confirm the viability of this theory.

Treyst used a most basic Automaton, an abandoned prototype from Sierra's workshop. He worked for many months alongside Ordis scholars, Yzmir sorcerers, in order to fashion a machine powerful enough to perform this pairing. When they were finally ready, Treyst materialized Paju, and he pressed the button. But nothing worked as expected. The machine roared to life, while the Kelon exhaled terrible emanations of Mana. The entire reality seemed to pulse and twist around them. Suddenly, the world seemed to tear apart. Too late, Treyst realized that a Tumult Singularity was germinating within his workshop. He rushed to the emergency stop lever, activated it hastily as he saw rays shoot out of the machine and strike the experiment chamber's walls.