“Strange thing, are you not?"

I recoil at the words, the frigid breath on which they ride permeating my fur and skin. I reach out to shove the speaker away, and my aura flares up like an invisible bubble of unrestrained panic as it comes into contact with them. Radiance has a certain way about it; one should be able to detect it in auras within a decent radius if they're actively looking for it, but I seem to only be able to sense my visitor when I'm in contact with them, like their own energy is bundled up inside of them.

Physically touching them seems to have done something, as it produces a ball of light in its hand. An odd decision, from my perspective, because they clearly could detect me without it, but as I behold them in that warm light, I learn that to be the least strange thing about them.

At first glance, it's a plush doll, at least as tall as I am. But its movements are too rigid for that; the soft exterior must be sewn on around a frame. The gray fur, decorated with ornate black markings, is expertly crafted; if it gave off any sort of heat I may have mistaken it for another morph like me, appearing as a kangaroo; a thick-tailed marsupial, an odd animal to see on Paliputra but I guess a doll can be made in the likeness of anything. It's difficult to discern whether muscle or servos drive their movement, falling perfectly into that uncanny valley.

I decide I'm having none of this, and I move to reach for my unfinished weapon, but find it missing. The kangaroo takes their hand out from behind their back, revealing the weapon is in their possession now. With a sort of quickness one might expect from a cockroach, they dash for me, brandishing the wooden thing in position for a stroke to the head. I stifle a scream as I try to dive out of the way, losing my footing and landing in a heap of myself on the floor.

The kangaroo tilts their head, and exhales five words again through their sewn-shut mouth in a deep register. “Scared thing, but for what?"

As I begin to pick myself up, my weapon clatters to the floor, and the doll steps back.

“Only a test, I promise."

I slowly move for the club again, and I am not stopped. Grasping it tightly, I stand up, a fair distance away from the doll. Not that it will help; there's not a chance that I'll forget what sort of reflexes they have.

“What do you want from me?" I manage, taking care not to stammer after a couple of rehearsals of that simple question in my head.

“We can help each other," the kangaroo says. There is a long pause, and the sound of a cassette being wound. “I came to this island." Another pause, and the sound of winding. “The storm brought you ruin." Pause. “The storm cast you adrift." Pause. “So I brought you here." Pause. “I want off the island." Pause. “You want off the island." Pause. “But I need someone strong." Pause. “You could be stronger, perhaps." Pause. “You would like that, perhaps." Pause. “I think we should collaborate."

“How did you bring me here?" I demand.

“I waited. I saw you." Pause. “Guided you on the waves." Pause. “I know you are compatible." Pause. “For the Gift. You have…" This pause is longer than the others. I almost speak, but then they resume. “…The right heart for it."

>>>>>>>>>

My captor pulls me from her mouth again, this time sitting me in the palm of her hand.

“He's awfully cryptic, isn't he?" she asks.

“Oh, unbearably so," I agree, maybe a little too quickly. But I think she can tell there's something I don't want to say. I already cut it close when I relayed the kangaroo's last set of five words.

“Do you have any idea what made you compatible with the 'Gift'?" she presses.

“Not a clue," I lie. “Maybe I just seemed determined?"

My captor shrugs, flexing the claws of her other hand. “Perhaps. I take it you accepted this Gift?"

“Yeah. That's how I ended up with these," I say, fanning out my nine tails. “Among other things. Still technically not a reaper though," I add on quickly.

“Right, right." She really doesn't seem to care anymore. 

“Why do you think one's looking for you, anyway?"

“My business, not yours. Anyway, continue. I wanna know how it went down."

Within the span of a few seconds, she slips my lower body back into her mouth, and with a cheeky slurp, seals me in that cage of teeth once more. I roll over, doing all I can not to grumble or otherwise indicate discontent. If I want to stay out of it for good, I need to keep telling my story. At least she's actually listening now.

>>>>>>>>>

“Go on."

The kangaroo doll steps closer, leaving his ball of light to float, and holding his hands in front of himself defensively. “Do you know about reapers?"

You may have guessed, but we'll be talking about these a lot.

“Someone that a pair of gods drag in to do their dirty work for them" I reply. I paid attention in theology, don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

“Correct. I have a thought…" he trails. “What if assignment was unnecessary?" Pause. “If you could assign yourself?"

“Are you implying what I think you're implying?" I ask. My discomfort grows with each passing second.

“The nature of the Gift. It will not serve most. The right foundation is needed. Power, to even begin with. I know you have it." Before he even says it, I know what's coming. “The right heart for it."

There it is again. But I nod in understanding. “Alright, but how is that getting us off the island?"

“It will because I will. There is a vessel here. Humor me, with this process. Then we will leave together."

I hesitate at first, but there's really no reason. A little bit of extra magical power sounds good to me. “If that's your condition, then I accept."

It's not that I trust the doll, but I have a feeling I'm doing this whether or not I accept.

The kangaroo gestures at the door with his muzzle. I turn slowly to it as he walks past me with his orb, beckoning me to follow. Part of me wants to run for it. A very, very large part of me wants to run for it. But the curious side of me wants to go, and I'm uncertain as to which side knows best.

Bearing in mind that my new acquaintance could very easily kill me if I resist, both sides of me come to an agreement and take turns putting my legs in motion to follow.

As I pass the threshold of the door, he gestures again, causing it to slam shut and latch behind us, leaving nowhere to go but onward and downward. I shudder to think of the implications of that; it didn't matter at all that it had been locked from my side. The kangaroo is proficient in more than just one star of magic; something that few living things can claim. Then again, he isn't quite what most people would readily refer to as a living thing.

At this point, I'm growing tired of thinking of him as nothing beyond “the doll" or “the kangaroo".

“Hey, what should I call you?" I ask.

“My maker called me Suraokh. So I call me Suraokh."

“Never heard that one before. What language is it from?"

“The language is not important. 'Suraokh' is a mouth sound."

“…Okay then." That raises a lot of questions but I don't get to get them out before he speaks again.

“You also have a name. Tell me what it is."

“Merion," I answer, taken a little off guard by the command. I guess he has to be creative with the way he words things though, so I pay it no further mind.

Suraokh stops walking for a second, his whole body going stiff. “Cataloged. I will remember Merion." And then, as if nothing had happened, he starts to walk again.

I stop too, stunned by the constant uncomfortableness of this construct. I quickly shake it off and catch up, walking almost directly next to him. After about a minute of walking, he stops again, sweeping his left arm to the side, opening the door in front of us that had until then been perfectly seamlessly set into the cavern wall.

He steps to the side, allowing me to proceed first. I barely make it through before I stop again, staring in disbelief. What I see on the other side of the doorway defies all explanation.

Light pours down from a rippling mass like the liquid sun, but the color is indescribable. A lattice of a kind of stone I've never seen before supports it at the top of the cylindrical chamber, at the bottom of which sits an altar. A worryingly narrow spiral ramp grants access down.

“Approach and receive the Gift," Suraokh prompts. “Then we will get going."

“Waaait, wait, what is this though?" I ask.

“It is like a well," the kangaroo explains. “A well of divine power. Once a hallmark of Paliputra."

“In the distant past maybe! Why don't people know about this one?"

“This is a new installation. Or at least, renovated, relocated. But it is entirely safe. I can promise you that. I do promise you that."

"New? This looks ancient!" I don't disguise my incredulity. This is huge; the last time there was divine activity on Paliputra was back in the days when it orbited a real star.

"Irrelevant; an agreement was made."

"Yeah yeah yeah, about that," I interject, turning away from the well to face Suraokh. "I want some specifics before I do whatever I'm supposed to do here. What's the catch?"

“There is none, of consequence. It will give you help. A Gift, I called it."

There's a lot more I'd like to ask, but Suraokh doesn't seem the type to elaborate on things in terms that anyone but himself could fully grasp. I begin to make my way down, sliding down the slope of the pit and stopping myself each time my feet find the ramp again. Up close to the altar, it's really quite plain; a raised irregular hexagon, unmarked or even scratched. Suraokh follows me down, taking his place in a circle faintly engraved into the floor by the foot of the altar. He nods to me, and then I step onto the platform and look up. The globe of light leads me to wonder if it's anything like the oceans on other worlds; pure and clean, full of sunlight and vigor. There's something humbling about it.

“How is your pain tolerance?" he asks. That would be the catch.

He lifts his arms towards the light before I can tell him that, as a zombie, made and maintained by routine invasive surgery, I've grown pretty numb to it. The globe starts to fluctuate with even greater intensity; enough even to slip through the lattice and rain down on me. I instinctively want to run from it, but my body will not move.

The last thing that I am aware of before I black out is that my pain tolerance really is nowhere near as strong as I needed it to be. My skin fizzes. My spine splits. My augmentations detach and reattach to my bones. My eyes burn. My skull feels like it will pop, like a bubble I'd always taken as solid, suddenly demonstrating the limits of its surface tension instead. 

My consciousness leaves me well before I break.