Seven watched as the tendrils ran through his veins, into his fingertips and absorbed into the orb. The orb spun to life, lighting up bright white. The tower broke free of its stillness and screamed to life as the gears engaged.
The hoses hissed with new breath, the water swirled faster outside. The tower lit up, several colors per layer until a violet light flashed on at the very top.
Looking back at the orb, it was instead a mirror. The crystals filled smoothly like glass, within the frame made by the metal.
"That's amazing!" Seven breathed out in awe as he approached the mirror. His reflection inside was sharper, brighter, less human. Ears like an elf, skin smooth like silk, and eyes as violet as the light above.
"That… isn't me." Seven sighed. It made sense now, the reflection only portrayed what little desire he had. Simply to belong, but if belonging meant abandoning himself, then it was not a desire worth the reflection.
There was a rumble from deep below the tower in response. The lights above flowed down in the surrounding hoses and then bled into the mirror from below. The mirrors surface rippled and the reflection stepped out from its polished prison.
"If you so believe in your truth, fight the design that was decided and prove it."
The voice was carried within the groaning of gears. A challenge against the defiance he had shown continuously.
"Fight the design?" Seven looked upon the now physical reflection, and it looked upon him with self superiority and contempt.
"Oh. Of course." Seven words left his lips as more of a breath than a statement. Resigned, softened, as if a laugh as he faced not a trial, but a pattern. He doesn't conform, so therefore he must be beaten into submission.
"Words are wasted on the likes of you. Your views are self centered, never seeing the bigger picture outside of yourself." The reflection stated with a stoic expression, as if Seven's very existence was a temporary setback that it needed to quickly dispatch.
"Designs can be flawed too, aiming for perfection only makes progress slow." Seven returned the stoic banter with philosophy, even though he only ever heard that particular sentence once from Dante.
"Perfection is the ultimate growth. There is no need to grow when one is perfect " The reflection dismissed Seven's parry with a bored and arrogant flair. The look it gave Seven spoke volumes, distaste at Seven's impudence.
"Then let's see what's better. Perfection with a capped growth, or flawed with no limit to learning how to grow." Seven stanced himself, his fists raised in street boxing formation. The reflection smiled, a smile of one who views the world as beneath them. A mix of snobbish and superiority complexes in one small expression.
"You wish to face magic with mere fists? Like a primate? Very well then, suffer your fate!" The reflection shouted as its number pulsed orange. From its hands grew small spikes of ice that it immediately threw at Seven, the speed was untraceable, all seven spikes embedded themselves in Seven's chest. Seven was in a state of shock, disbelief at the attack thrown at him.
"Your truth becomes lies, your belief now fantasy. Seven is a flawed imperfection with no clear path forward, a rut in the form of a circle. I am Aisrin, perfection at the end of a flawless path designed by the cosmos, I am inevitable. You can not deny me!" Aisrin's number turned dark red, flames turned to spears that rushed towards Seven. Seven rolled to the ground, narrowly dodging the hot spears.
"A rut in the form of a circle? No, you view it from a place above, seeing it as stagnant. Yet you fail to see what it truly is. You reached a higher place through a straight path with no obstacles, linear and perfect. I will climb up in a spiral, endlessly improving and learning from failure. You are not inevitable, you are simply one more obstacle I will conquer." Seven replied, the energy inside him moved restlessly yet with conviction. His number pulsed a bright pink, the energy flowed through his veins. He didn't know what to do with it, but he felt what he should do with it.
Flames sparked off of his arms, running from his shoulders to his fists. The heat was intense, but it held his resolution firmly.
"You can throw your power, but I'll still choose my fists. It's more personal this way " Seven brought his fists up and walked Aisrin down, his glare wasn't hateful, just decidedly determined. Aisrin's face turned red with rage, his pulse darkened to a crimson.
"You still refuse destiny? THEN ALLOW ME TO SHOW YOU HOW NAIVE YOUR VIEW IS!" Aisrin's voice was heavy with his fury, the earth rumbled beneath his feet, the air darkened with the mirrored emotion. Around him spheres of condensed air swirled visibly and shot like bullets at Seven. Seven rose his arms up as the spheres impacted one after the other, the flames flickered, growing and extinguishing erratically, but never fully going out. The impacts hurt, his arms bled and evaporated with the fire.
Seven continued to walk forward through the onslaught of air bullets, his gaze never wavering, his resolve resolute. Aisrin refused to step back, even when Seven arrived directly in front of him. Seven drew his right arm back, body slightly lowering, his right foot planted slightly back. He twisted his body forward, charging his arm with momentum and threw his fist solidly forward. The impact with the flames launched Aisrin back a yard, his feet remained connected to the ground through his magic, the earth holding them, but his face was now marked with a cut and was red with a burn around the wound.
"Now what? It seems perfection isn't without a flaw. Design or not, if you are supposed to be me, it means you still started out human. Pretend divinity all you'd like, the truth won't act the same." Seven drew his breath, his words carried the weight of someone tired.
"This isn't over, Seven. You will face trials much stronger, much more discouraging. Can you prove your belief is the truth? Or will you fall before it begins and become me?" Aisrin slowly began to fade, his pulse now blue. His features were slowly reverting from his perfect elven form.
"Such is life. No matter how hard it gets, I always get up. I may fall, but I won't let myself succumb to a design that isn't me." Seven replied with absolute certainty, as if he was only speaking a fact. Aisrin now mirrored Seven, flawed, imperfect. Human.
"We will see. Prove our truth, and never bow to design." The reflection smiled and vanished, there was no flair, no indication of victory, just a silent tower without a sign of life. Seven turned and exited the tower, as he left the entrance, he turned and walked to a panel next to the tower, one not covered in vines and let a flame burn bright and hot in his index finger. On the panel he wrote; 'Here rests Aisrin, the boy abandoned by time and loved by the cosmos.'.
"Abandoned. Not forgotten." Seven nodded to the reflections memory, an obstacle he overcame but would always live as a reminder of what he felt would be the most influential in the trials to come.