Syndicate Dust engulfed Demon in distorted ash. Tainting his entire frame, making him out of place with the snow-white mountain surrounding him.
Black fog covered his mind. Numbing away all signs of other being's seeing through his eyes. It was him alone. No one else in the world was in his mind.
[Others fought through my orchestrated plans without my involvement. I know how this is going to end. So it's my turn to get my hands dirty.]
With the next gust of wind, corruption found itself inside a thriving city. Its trickery painted its master as a young Thawed student, yearning for the knowledge of his Sherpa.
Demon hurried alongside his peers. Dragging his feet over the dirt paved roads.
"Here's what we're going to do," the Sherpa turned around to face his group. "Young Nirdia and Brave Suri, you two are free to return home. Meet me outside my home by tonight. Young Uron..."
The Sherpa's greyed eyes turned to Demon. "You're coming with me. I need your help."
"Yes, Sherpa," Demon agreed.
Student followed teacher through busy streets. Their footsteps off beat with the other. A clear sign of no connection, despite being a teacher and student stepping through.
Minutes later, they arrived at the Sherpa's house. As they stepped between the two wooden pillars that supported the roof, Demon figured out where he was.
Time passed since they were in the Legion. But it didn't pass what he remembered about it. His first step into the house reminded him of a crimson lover.
One who had a heart set ablaze with passionate loyalty and a fatherly tone so strong one had to obey. It was the home of his Sherpa, Valentine Tavious.
Inside, the home opened up with a wide living room. To the left was a counter that divided the kitchen from everything else. Fresh fruits lined the tabletops, ready to be eaten.
"Uron, yaasi ara'uc?" The Sherpa asked in Philious.
Demon nodded. "Yes, yes."
Pleased, the Sherpa stepped towards the kitchen. "Harroc, qe-teer nabple shatoi? Hanihm, bzch? "
"It's fine. It's all the same to me," Demon replied.
With a firm nod, the Sherpa grabbed the best looking apple from the pile of fruits. He brought it over to a bucket that rested beside everything else, then he dipped the apple inside.
Moments later, he took it out again. Instead of a snack decorated in fine powder, it was a snack decorated by its natural beauty. The Sherpa handed it to Demon.
"E'ar'hmn," the Sherpa said.
Demon held the little gift in his hands. "Thank you, Sherpa... can you teach me how to cut an apple properly?"
"Of course," he replied.
The Sherpa placed a firm hand on Demon's little back, guiding him towards the inside of the kitchen beside all the knives. Dozens rested inside sheathes that were labeled to more easily determine their purposes.
"You want to take a knife designed to cut fruit," the Sherpa instructed. "Take a look at them. Which one should we use?"
Instinctively, Demon pointed at the one that had 'fruits' written on the side of its sheathe. Which caused the Sherpa to smile. His wide grin edged around his mouth.
He reached for the knife. While Demon accidentally pushed the apple off the counter. Two thumps caught the Sherpa's attention. He slowly nodded, smile still plastered over his face.
"Accidents like this happen often, Uron. To us, it isn't much. But when it comes to the world outside our safe walls, this is lethal. Especially now, during times of conflict against another Legion."
Demon watched his Sherpa lower himself to reach the apple. "I understand, Sherpa."
Just as he was getting back up, Uron's hand transformed into a malevolent appendage that wrapped his Sherpa's head in black corruption. There was no struggle, only acceptance.
Seething truths, unspoken tales of long forgotten suffering rushed into the Sherpa's mind. Topped off by a melody with no real rhythm. It was all a broken mess. This was the song of the Distorted.
Knowledge and experiences flowed through Demon's body. Morphing him back into his original form. The sacred treasure that flowed through his veins found its way into the Distorted Mind.
Confirming the transformation. Demon let go of the Sherpa's head, before using his other arm to force him to look up.
"I am your master now. And you - you are my host," Demon's vile voice spat.
Syndicate Dust forced itself through the Sherpa's ears, nose, eyes, and mouth. It rushed into his heart, taking over the instrument that gifted him life. Before hijacking the Thawed's mind.
Now, Demon was in control. The last shard of who Uron was disappeared into the grand void of the Distorted Mind. In there, he was reborn as a pure Distorted. Lowly in utility to the rest of the hive mind.
There, Uron caught one final glimpse of the truth behind Distorted creations. Before he was transformed into a mindless minion of corruption, he saw what nightmares became when they come to life.
One giant Distorted rested off in the distance. Tentacles decorated its back, before parting to allow a massive maw spanning from neck to leg to rest freely. He couldn't see its front, but it was for the better.
Demon got a new name, Thajure. With it, he stood up. He felt cold, like a Thawed. Before he did anything else, Demon cleaned up the kitchen. Putting away the knife and apple.
It was odd. Feeling like a Thawed was a new experience to him, a novelty. But he wasn't bothered. In fact, he was enjoying it. Since his corruption, Demon felt like a physical object.
Only feeling warm when it was warm around him, and only feeling cold when there was cold around him. Unable to produce his own body heat, or enable his body to cool himself off.
Now, he produced a method of cooling off his body. As a Thawed, being cold was his new nature. This was how they all lived.
Time flew in the blink of an eye. One hour he was mindlessly walking around a home he thought of as a safe shelter. Then the next hour, he was staring down the sunset.
His grey eyes stared out into the distance, only to get his trance shattered by his students arriving. They carefully stepped towards him, slowing down the closer they got. So their Sherpa could acknowledge them.
"Nirdia, Suri, welcome," Thajure greeted his students.
"Good evening, Sherpa. Is Uron doing well?" Nirdia nervously asked.
Thajure looked over his shoulder, staring inside his home. "I spent the rest of the day teaching Uron. He proves himself as a worthy performer."
Suri stepped closer to the door. "That's great. Where is he? I want to congratulate him."
"Uron is sitting beside the fireplace. He is eager to assist me teach you two. Run inside, he is waiting," Thajure ordered.
Without a second thought, Suri and Nirdia walk inside. They turn their focus to the burning fire in the corner of the room. Where a puppet sat in front of it.
The puppet slowly turned his head to face his peers. They cheerfully exchanged smiles, brightening up their days a little bit more. Thajure watched from the doorway.
Slivers of his silver hair hung over his forehead, covering portions of his vision. Without any expressions, he stepped inside. Completely disregarding his students' emotions.
"Night is an ever-looming reality, just like death. There are rituals to extend night or day. Designed by dedicated followers, pious to the Nine," Thajure lectured.
He paused half-way through the room. "With it, came the discovery of a ritual known as Ya-harim'phcs, (Extended-mortality,) that is what you'll be learning about today."
Uron warmly smiled at his master. Remembering how he learned this ritual. Something Nirdia realized. She watched his lively eyes light up.
Thajure tilted his head towards the opposite corner of the room. Where four corpses rested beside each other. Every body was completely naked, revealing the shells of who they were.
Suri's eyes landed on the downed frame of a female Feral. Her jaws partly opened, letting the final bits of air escape from her lungs. He examined her body.
Realizing just how pale one gets after dying. Which made him wonder. Were Thawed just religious zombies? They both are pale, very cold, sometimes even seem devoid of any life.
When its needed, Thawed even emulate rigor mortis by reaching absolute zero. Their muscles stiffen, bodies freeze, life ceases and dead they become. Until they free themselves.
"Here's a Feral, Zegus, Thawed, and a Yomie... Nirdia, I see potential in you. By the end of the lesson, I want to challenge you," Thajure notified.
Nirdia nodded. "Yes, Sherpa."
Thajure placed his hands behind his back. "Without anymore stalling. Pick a body, then I'll go over the lesson. Nirdia, I suggest you begin on that Zegus."
Suri and Nirdia nodded before slowly making their way closer to the bodies. They were unsure if this was even allowed, to teach upcoming Thawed how to do rituals designed for the more advanced.