Books littered the floor, some opened, and others closed with papers sticking out of them. Robin leaned down and placed her fingers between two of the floorboards and pulled. There was a barely audible clicking sound and Robin shouted. “ROBIN GYROSHOCK!” The clicking noise faded into gears turning…and she’d avoided Ciera’s defense system killing and, or, maiming her. Of course, she probably could’ve disarmed it…maybe. She picked up the pen she was using and placed it in her mouth as she reached down into the newly opened container to see…the book. Ciera’s book.  Well, it was more a record of Ceera’s evil. 


The house was quiet like it always was this time of night. Ciera was still a creature of the dark and the children were all asleep. Robin had a few house to rifle through her little sister’s things.


A star ruby gleamed in the center of the leather bound book at the front. Flames coursed in its center and Robin shivered. Hope this works. She sat the book on the floor and took the pen out of her mouth…well…what used to be a pen. The middle held a sort of divider and both ends were capped, but clear, red light coursed on one side, and a distinct purple in the other. “Hopefully, Ciera’s residual magic is good enough….” She opened one end and a small jet of flame touched into the center of the book until all the light in that side of the pen disappeared, then she flipped it over and did the same with the emerald on the other side.


After a moment, Robin gingerly touched the cover, trembling. It was a dirty, magical object, after all. The covers opened and the pages turned. She dropped the pen-like device, glad to be rid of it, even though all the magic in it was gone. Robin stared at the profiles within it.


Robin Gyroshock:

Age: 50. Ideally young specimen, half-sister to Ciera, and first successful link. Subject has an incredible immunity to diseases. Extremely healthy.

Problems: Too strong willed. There have been difficulties with preserving the vessel and subduing its consciousness. Considering termination of the vessel if it cannot be resolved.

Revision: Successful removal of consciousness. The vessel is now empty and ready for full connection. The first link.


Robin stared at the words. There were paragraphs, pages, detailing just her. The fire seeds were a more elegant design than this. More gruesome, but a better design all around. Theoretically, the recipient could live forever without having to hop from host to host.


She slammed the book shut and tossed it back into its hiding place. The gears turned again and locked into place to seal the lid of its container shut as Robin replaced the floorboard. She turned back to her notes on chi flows. “Monks are a bit more powerful than I originally thought.  I was able to block chi flows to stop the progress of the seed, but Mister Oxplow said I could disable people with it as well. Casters and even physical fighters like Ciera, but we really need a cure more than violence.”


Mister Calithos said we could severe it at the source…it makes sense, but I should let the other Templars do the fighting.


An actual pen was lying on the floor near a stack of papers; Robin retrieved it and set to sketching the different flows of chi of her first chi-blocking patients.


These people are going to die. Just like I was going to die. A subject…the record called me an…it. Consciousness…defeated. I was nothing.


“But I wasn’t. I wasn’t defeated. I was there the whole time.” She finished her sketch of Miss Emma and began one of the night elf, Miss Telpeka. “But they will be…they’ll die if we don’t figure this out.”


This flame druid is just like Ceera. She never got what she deserved. But this…druid, Bairne…I don’t have to meet him to see what he deserves. This can be different. I’m not helpless anymore.


Robin picked up her notes and began cleaning up her mess. “I can go help fight him…I’m the only one who’s gone through this before.”  She paused at a certain mass of sketches, images of a coffin, small, gnome-sized in particular.


No one should be able to recreate this. No one. No coffins. No seeds.


Once the sketches were all that remained, Robin returned to the table to glare at them. One by one, she ripped the papers to pieces. “This will be different.”

Author Robin
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