Post by Professor Frost on Sept 25, 2013 16:32:59 GMT -6
As the hour approached 11pm, Theodore Frost's head drooped low over the desk in front of him. The small, round glasses he required only for reading tiny, faded text slipped from the end of his nose and hung for a second, then fell. The physician's head was not long to follow.
True, the library was by most accounts closed by this point, but Teddy was not a habitual sleeper, and exhilarated as he'd been by the arrival of this particular book; salvaged from the ancient and cavernous lower-levels of the temple of the fifth, he had wasted no time in diving in. It was to provide what he needed to prove that there was precedent for the use of Healing Light, or 'knitting' as he called it, for purposes other than the mere reparation of tissue. That through theoretical study of the impact of magic upon cells, the possibilities could be expanded exponentially. To what purpose, well Teddy was still building up to that. He knew, or he thought he knew, but he needed time, space and the right materials to be able to try it. And he needed courage too.
Alchemical scrawlings lined the ledger open to his left, transcribed notes, or half-finished equations. Magic, for Theodore, came down to precision. If a person were imbued with power from the Great Dragon, they could be taught to wield magic without ever learning how or why it worked. One could do something without knowing why it could be done. But healing magic was not like that. You can't just poke around in living tissue and expect it to be alright. There was an extent to which the healing light can guide a faithful soul, but true followers of the Fifth understood the damage they could do without the proper knowledge to see them through.
The further one took this maxim, the deeper one delved into biology, and eventually into the very matter of which a human person, or any animal, is comprised. Basically the same stuff. If one reached further, eventually, as with all things, one arrives back at philosophy. The boundless possibility. And Teddy had studied and studied the scripture of the Fifth Petal for guidance, but found it was scarce to be found. The holy books said nothing of why. Why why why? Why was flesh created this way? Why so soft, why so weak? Why is this form supposed to be the best? Is it sacred, or perhaps a form of subservience with that of the Dragon reaching only celestial heights?
But why, more than anything, why provide us with these tools, and no guidance on how to use them!? Sleepless, Teddy had abandoned all teaching work for days, he had read and re-read every scholarly theological tome he could lay his bony hands on. His desperation split the morning of yesterday when, seized with a panic that the great Dragon was toying with his servants, or perhaps that he simply didn't care at all, he'd taken a pocket knife to the palm of his left hand. In the pain he'd searched for that old feeling; the joy, the way as a child he'd felt connected to the universe; like light was pouring into him.
It hadn't been perfect, but it had steadied his nerves enough to place a special order for this book. A controversialvolume, and one which had been banned from mainstream theological study 20 years ago and locked up in the temple vaults. It was a testament to what the name of the Headmaster could do (without necessarily his consent) that he managed to get it at all.
As soon as he started reading, with a cold shiver he understood why. He'd seen sections of this book before, as a child. Passages here and there he remembered from the sermons spoken by his own father. Upon turning another page his heart froze upon the symbol he saw on the page in front of him. He'd seen this before, on the wall of his old home down on Atlantis, in his mother's dried blood.
It was old, originating from the barbaric, hard days upon the first discovery of Atlantis. But the symbol represented an old idea, predating the Fifth's propensity for gentle justice, and stated merely that "To suffer is to reach transcendence". He had to read it a couple of times. Suffering, the notes at the bottom continued, could also be translated as 'to strive'. To strive in suffering, perhaps?
This was it. The courage to do what must be done, as sanctified by the Great Dragon. That suffering is justifiable, because to suffer and to strive are the same thing, therefore one is only serving the greater good to suffer, or even to cause suffering. He'd excitedly taken his pen and scrawled the symbol in his ledger, marking it for further future study, and labelled it "The pain will bring life."
That had been 5 hours ago. He had since then poured over every word in the vast old book. He hadn't noticed when his eyelids started getting heavy, when the library closed, when the lights went off and he was reading only by a solitary candle. And now that he was asleep, he noticed nothing at all.
