A string can be pulled, tied and cut. Those were the unnatural tempering that humans have been able to manipulate the strings of consciousness.
For someone to be made aware of their domain inside them, they must train their consciousness to recognize the world within. A process that takes years to complete, and even then, that was simply the opening gates of obtaining power.
Atsile's was simply ripped open by her father's hands. It was a necessary evil, he had said to her. Crowned with knowledge, embedded with eyes, blessed with a voice and the tailing pain that cracked her skin and soul stretched into a stark red landscape.
To conquer such concepts fully would be impossible to say the least. The consciousness string is a malleable object down to the atomic level. From the smallest of chemical reactions be made intentionally with human thought to subverting reality itself to bend to your will. This was the cultivator's tool and weapon, to harness the very thing named Mana.
And Atsile had the pleasure of having every single detail of it wedged into her brain. She'd curse her father, but, what good daughter would try to do such a thing? She was grateful and she hated him at the same time.
"If you would not spend every other second to insult me, then perhaps you'd progress faster in cultivation." Her father intruded the silence. Atsile held back from clicking her tongue instinctively, something she realized was an old habit of this 'memory' she has. Memory that was written to belong to her.
"Father, oh, father." The doll who had grown legs in her own world stood up from the barren soil, a single soft stem rising from the cracks. "May I plead for your patience? This dusty basement that they threw me in is not the most assimilating environment. I'm only getting a single drop every five hours."
Atsile never learned to talk like this, but she did it like she had always done her whole life. From a fierce woman who had taken care of her from birth, taught the eloquence of nobility from the four-eyed man behind her with his pointy cat ears flopping down under his hat.
He… always had those ears, right? Or was it in her blind child-like rage from decades ago that she couldn't really notice? Wait, has it been decades? Her eyes are all dried up and stung but it felt like it was so long ago since she last cried.
Before the doll's frail fingers could go over to touch the sockets of her organic eyes, another droplet fell from the everlasting scarlet sky. It fell through her sunken dark hair, dancing between them before finally dripping down upon the small stray leaf of the hopeful plant.
It unnaturally grew just a centimeter more. Instead of the usual disappointment another person would gleam, Atsile quickly gazed upwards to the stained skies. Another droplet, landing a thud over her hard porcelain face before sliding off her chin.
Then, another dew drop. Atsile stepped back, and counted the brief intervals. From five hours, to five seconds per each drop of mana from the environment she was absorbing. She felt a hand press itself gently on her shoulder.
"They're coming back for you." Her father merely said, staring up at the same red sky. "They've done a full sweep of the village, likely. I'm rather impressed that they've taken notice of my presence that quickly."
"From your words, I can only assume they've come to lynch me." The puppet growled before shoving his stringent hand off. "Words of advice before I die because of you?"
Over his pale skin, a toothy grin appeared under his four eyes. "There are openings to everything for a single thread to reach through. Be conscious enough to find it and exploit it. I've taught you what I should."
"Taught me?" Atsile glanced away for a moment before her eyes narrowed. "My only memories were just isolation under a river because you wouldn't help me!"
How she was stuck under a slab of dirt because he threw her in as a means of training; because of that accursed monster shaking the very earth as she drowned and drowned until she couldn't drown her soul; as she struggled to break apart from her submerged cage.
Atsile twitched. That was what happened… right? Yes, of course; it wasn't.
The black devil placed his index finger over her forehead, the long fingernail could scrape her skin if he wished.
"A necessary choice, my daughter." As ghastly as his presence was his words. "But for now, you must wake up and brave those righteous ideologists."
The doll felt her vision begin to distort, her body feeling like it was sliding backwards from the sudden shift in gravity. Velocity increasing with every second, the world suddenly turning into a blur of colours. Her bottom half burned into charcoal before detaching from her, her lovely red jacket and dress torn into asunders with it.
As if she were falling from the depths of space and into the atmosphere of earth, the flames wrapped themselves around her like the warm and harsh welcome back to reality– before she felt herself slamming behind cold iron bars.
Atsile jolted awake from her sleep. The dark and detestable prison still stayed the same as it did since the week she had counted to herself. But the silence, the silence was nulled by the sudden opening of the door.
The puppet crawled forward and wrapped her broken fingers around the wrought bars of her cage. She couldn't see the person coming towards her clearly. The cage wasn't tall enough to allow her to do so.
The boots echoed loudly with each step, approaching slowly until it stopped right in front of the cage. They weren't particularly polished, they were quite worned out with patches of dirt still yet to be cleaned by the owner and she almost got a brief kiss of it as it kicked the cage bars.
Atsile instinctively moved back, hearing the reverbing ringing of the iron pipes as her heart palpitated. A single haughty laugh followed after.
"Good to see you're still responsive, you cursed thing." A cracked voice of a man who had smoked for likely decades on end came to greet her. "You caused quite a stir and mess in our little peaceful village."
The doll watched carefully as the man crouched down to her height. Even when she could see his knees bend, it was hard to even get a good glimpse at his face. Atsile could feel a strange emanating heat coming from his face. His large fingers flicked the iron bars.
"Come on, say something." The man said, as if he was trying to communicate with a wild dog. Looking down on her, less alive than he was. Atsile opened her mouth to prove.
"I didn't hurt anyone in the village. Why am I caged here?" She had calmly asked before attempting to close her lips. It remained wide open, as if some invisible iron gag had tied itself around her face. Traces of mana were wrapped around her head.
Chuckled did the man. "Why? Well, you're not welcomed here, per se. Do you not recognize the harm that you carry?" On his other hand, was a key to the lock of her cage.
Atsile struggled to close her mouth, her hand looking to undo the knot of the mana circuit but to no avail. The man dragged her by the throat, pulling her out of her prison as she fumbled incoherently. She was raised above ground, looking face to face with her captor.
The horned man. He was an Aiseirigh, a race of genetically created dragons, the proudest folk all over Neamh. They used to appear closer to the monsters they aspire to become, but now they have slowly but surely reverted back to the beings whom they once were.
His apathetic yellow eyes appeared glowing in the darkness, the heat that Atsile felt was the smoke that was escaping through his sharp rows of teeth. They glower into a smile, the scales on his face shifting.
His other scaled hand grabbed her face, his fingers pushing into her mouth to pull out her tongue. Atsile tried her best to pry herself away from him but to no use, she was too frail and small to fight back.
"Shh… I'm just taking precautions." He only said, his index finger and middle finger had scissored themselves between the doll's tongue. Only incomprehensible retorts were replied from Atsile.
With the man's sharp nail, he bent his thumb over and began drawing something over the top of the puppet's tongue. Unnaturally, there was blood and it naturally flowed down to the side and spilled onto the floor. Atsile was gagging through the entire process, her hands repeatedly tapping on the Aiseirigh's forearm to stop.
"The more you struggle and thrash, the longer and more painful it will be so stay still." He had stated once his finger slipped slightly from the mana circuit drawing, leaking excess blood than needed. Even when it was only a few seconds later, the copper taste going to the back of her throat was accompanied by the stinging pain.
When the circuit was finished, there was a brief moment of relief– for the Aiseirigh as he let the doll's tongue go. It didn't coil in naturally, no, it started twisting and tying itself like a rope. Tears streamed down from her eyes as all of her voice was suddenly silenced as well.
As it wetted the Aiseirigh's hand, he sighed. "Now, now, don't cry. I'm only making sure the thing inside you doesn't pull any fast ones."
Voiceless choking, that was the only thing she could capably reply with. A blessing taken away so the devil may not speak. But if the tongue came from the devil…
"Now, what do we do with those eyes?"