Mathew Dredon was experiencing disorientation like never before.
His mind was a buzz of static and white noise, as a steady stream of nothingness dominated his consciousness.
Thinking was a chore.
He tried to speak but his voice failed him.
He was just floating in an empty white void, in a state that was almost comatose
Then he heard a voice. Feminine. Powerful. It was a single word that brought a spark of clarity to his thoughts:
"Awaken"
Mathew realized he wasn't floating: He was laying down on something solid. A strange white mist surrounded him, but he could feel the ground hidden beneath it.
He pressed his hands against the 'ground' and pushed himself up into a sitting position.
He looked up into the sky. A misty white void stretched high above him.
Separating the 'sky' from the 'ground' was a distant light, like a sunrise peaking over the horizon in every direction at once.
But where was the voice that had pierced through the static in his brain? Mathew looked around and couldn't find her.
Then he opened his mouth and was finally able to speak.
"hello?" Mathew called out. His voice echoed but sounded muted at the same time, like he was in a recording studio.
"I am here" replied the woman. Her voice was soulless and monotone.
"Where? I can't see you…" He searched again, not seeing her at first. However, as he looked around more carefully, his eye latched onto a nearby patch of… something.
Strange geometric shapes made from some sort of transparent material gathered into a massive cluster. He squinted and thought he could see a vague humanoid silhouette obscured by the shapes.
It was so blurry that he couldn't make out any specific features.
"What… what are you? Who are you?" Mathew asked. The woman's voice resonated from the shapes:
"I am a shepherd of sorts."
"A shepherd? Like for my soul? Am I… am I dead?" Mathew instantly felt a spike of anxiety. His memories were practically soup, and he could not recall anything about himself.
For all he knew he had just been part of an unfortunate accident and was currently in limbo, or even the afterlife.
"No. Currently your soul is still attached to its mortal shell."
Mathew heard an implied "yet" in that statement.
"OK, well… can you send me back then? I want to get back to my… my…" His what? He felt there was someone very important he needed to return to.
The name was on the tip of his tongue, but their identity eluded him.
"I cannot return you. You are required for a task much bigger than your simple existence." Mathew opened his mouth, but didn't get a chance to respond.
"Sequence, what did you do?" An accusatory third voice cut into the conversation.
It was also feminine but not monotone like the shapes. Mathew turned to find the speaker, and saw that a woman now stood near them.
The women seemed ordinary, at least when compared to the bundle of geometric shapes.
She had a pair of trousers and a white button down shirt, both covered with oil stains and mud. She wore heavy working boots, and large leather gloves on her hands. A pair of tinted goggles sat on her head, holding back messy hair the color of dirt. Her face had dark grease slathered on it like it was bad makeup.
She approached Mathew, hands on hips as she looked him up and down. After a second she spoke again.
"Where did you get this one Sequence? He's not from our world."
"I transported him here from another realm. The same place the people of Tellus came from centuries ago," The bundle of shapes, Sequence, replied.
The woman clicked her tongue. "You just grabbed some random guy from a far off land?"
"He is no one of importance. His absence will not change the destiny of his world. Few will even notice his departure."
Mathew winced. Even though his memories were still alluding him, those words still cut deeply. Would nobody miss him? No one at all?
The newcomer spoke in his defense: "That's too harsh, Sequence. You shouldn't bully the poor kid like that. We need him to trust us."
Then she cracked a mischievous smile and walk toward him.
She stopped very close to him and began pulling off her gloves. Her fingers were surprisingly slender. Her palms were wrapped in long white bandages.
She reached out to him and Mathew felt like his feet were cemented in place
"He's actually kind of cute, in a naive lamb to the slaughter kind of way." She said softly, then held his face in both hands.
For some reason, Mathew was compelled to let her, as if allowing this strange woman touch him was the most natural thing in the world.
He looked into her eyes, and noticed they were a brilliant molten gold.
Her irises were slowly rotating like methodical gears. They were strange, but Mathew found that he couldn't look away.
An irrational feeling of curiosity suddenly hit him, seeping into every crevice of his mind.
He longed to touch her as well. He wanted to feel her face. Her skin. Her hair. Her lips.
The feeling worsened as the forced staring contest continued, intensifying to an unnatural and perverse level.
He found himself fantasizing about peeling off her skin, and tearing off her ears.
It would be so satisfying to gouge out her eyes, then take her apart piece by piece so that he could see what made her tick.
Just as he almost gave into the macabre urges, the monotone voice of Sequence pierced his daydreams:
"Alchemy release him. He will break."
The woman, Alchemy, removed her hands from his face.
The mutant form of curiosity left Mathew.
The memory of the recent fantasies remained, making him immediately feel sick. He fell to his knees and held his stomach. He wanted to vomit.
Alchemy chuckled, then spoke "I know when to stop. I needed to learn everything about him. We need to be certain he's the one."
"Will he be sufficient for our plan?" Sequence queried.
"He's perfect actually. Pulling someone from another world who isn't recognized by the Covenant will be a perfect way to create an air-tight prison. This one will last indefinitely, or at least until we form a new plan. There is one itty bitty caveat though."
"What Caveat?"
Alchemy sighed, "Once his soul is keyed to the vessel, their signatures will be synced. No other soul can ever enter the vessel after that. He's the only shot."
"That is quite the limitation. There is no other way? Or is it simply beyond your abilities?" Though Sequence's voice held no contempt, the words made alchemy grind her teeth.
"If your priest had survived the process of fusing with the Iron Mind, we wouldn't be in this mess. It's your fault your followers are so weak. Guess I shouldn't be surprised though: I always get shorted when working with any of you three Empyreans."
"Four" Sequence corrected in a stern voice: The most emotion so far.
Alchemy folded her arms. "Sure, whatever. Any other complaints before I start? Now is the time."
"Proceed."
Mathew had gotten to his feat, barely catching the exchange.
It might have been amusing to watch a steam-punk mechanic talking to an indiscernible creature of light, But he felt the need to interject now. Whatever these beings were, they weren't his friends.
They needed him for something. He needed to find out what it was.
"Excuse me. Why am I here?" He said, his eyes flicking between the two entities, "What is this plan? What are you planning to do with me?"
Alchemy gave him a sympathetic smile. "What is your name?"
"Mathew… Mathew Dredon."
"Mathew." She affirmed. "I am sorry you wound up here. It's not fair at all what Sequence did, but it's for the greater good. Your are needed for a purpose higher than yourself. Don't worry, I will make sure you get through the process safely. You can trust me."
Her words were soothing, like a mothers.
"I don't trust you at all" Mathew said, "especially after whatever you did to my mind earlier."
He didn't have his memories, but the sickening feelings he had felt at her touch were fresh. Something deep within him was telling him he should run.
But where to? There was no where to go.
"Mathew," Alchemy said again, her voice soft, "I am sorry for earlier. My touch has the tendency to… influence people, even with my mask."
"What mask? You mean the grease on your face?" He found the notion silly. Alchemy laughed.
"No. This body is my mask." Then she threw hands out dramatically as she spoke:
"Now it's time for you to put on your own special mask."
A corpse appeared on the ground between Mathew and Alchemy.
He stumbled backward in shock.
The sudden appearance had startled him, but it didn't frighten him. For some reason he felt that he was used to seeing corpses,
The dead man was dressed in ornate black robes, with no hood.
It's face was strange. Missing both flesh and muscle it was only a skull… However it was not made out of bone, but dull gray metal.
"What is that?" Mathew asked, his voice shaking.
"That is the vessel," Sequence replied, "your new shell."
Mathew looked at her in horror. Every fiber of his being was screaming danger. "What? What do you mean?"
Alchemy grinned wildly, a crazy look in her eyes, and pointed at the corpse: "We are going to tear your soul out of your body, and shove it into that thing."