Viator comes across as small and vulnerable. His blonde hair and diminutive stature belie an internal strength. Only his ice blue eyes hint toward the destructive power his mind contains. Occasionally struggling with the torrent inside he develops a tick under times of great stress that cannot be relieved by unleashing his psionic flow.
…the feyshadows leaping and swarming over him. He swats at them helplessly and feels a sudden jolt through his body, like ice water and fire at the same time.
Your physical self is useless. A pathetic shell with the sole purpose of containing the power of the mind. Unleash your shackles.
Panicking, he falls to the ground, rolling, desperate to throw the shifting shapes. They tear at him, speak of things that will happen. His ice blue eyes widen in terror.
The test subject is failing, sir. Another in a line of failures. I thought this one was different, sir. I’m sorry.
I thought you were special, boy, but I was wrong. You shame yourself and you shame your family.
The mind is the sole self. The mind is the sole self. I am a mental fortress. I control my body. The mind is the sole self.
The power erupts from him, the shadows ripped away; twisted and torn as the air ripples around him. The static charge in the air crackles as his form goes from lying to standing in the blink of an eye. His hand outstretched, the source of the shadows explodes in a silent, invisible eruption. Dark tatters float down to the ground. His left eye twitches.
Good, son. Very good.
…the flying creatures whirled around him, insubstantial but distracting. Confusion, panic, shot through him, his arms raised to fight them off.
Listen to your orders! Maintain calm and listen to your orders!
He carefully lowered his arms as he breathed calmly.
A flying creature swooped low towards him, talons ready to shred him.
The mind is the sole self.
From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed movement, a something crouching low to the floor.
Now! At your 3 o’clock! Unleash!
Without taking his eyes from the talons he reached out with his right hand, his fingers twitching. The world erupted around the shadowed movement. The flying creature dissipated and all was still.
He was turned away from the broken body before he could get a better look at its tiny, broken frame.
Good, son. Very good…
…he could feel his tears evaporating from his cheeks as the heat singed his hair. His fingers no longer worked from clawing at the ground around him.
Darkness enveloped him. The shadows pulled him apart. He tried to scream but his voice was torn from his throat.
Shadows. Fire. Pain.
The world exploded…