October 20th

Diary,

I must confess I could become quite accustomed to the concept of being a Lady. 

The last week has been nothing short of magnificent. The servants tend to my every need, even needs before I can contemplate them. They wait on me hand over foot, bringing me anything that I could possibly need. I spend my days responding to correspondence letters from other lords congratulating me on my newly found ladyship, studying magic at my whims in the library, exploring the entirety of my new castle and domain, and being doted on. I now understand why so many books of fancy speak so highly and hold princesses in such high regard.

In truth, the opulence of it all astounds me and yet the level I have somehow achieved is nothing close to that of true royalty. And yet, as I sit here debating on which silk I would like my new sheets made out of, I can’t help but wonder could this wealth be better spent elsewhere. Could it be used to improve the town or the larger world? But then again, do I not deserve such things for all my hard work. The things I have done to get to this place.

It is not as if the town is not thriving. They are holding a festival for the autumn harvest. It was extremely bountiful this year. Touched by magic they say. They have invited me to join them and I have graciously accepted. Myself and all of the servants will be attending, gathering to enjoy the festivities. Everyone seems very excited.

Everyone except for Alphene who remains away. I can not understand where she is or what she is doing. Every so often I can feel her draw on my magic, using it in ways I can not see. I feel the wave of exhaustion wash over me and retire for a few moments while I regain my strength. I have tried to reach out to her mind and body, to demand answers, but it seems she is more in control of our connection now. It is almost as if I am the servant and she has become the master in our bond. She reassures me this is not true whenever I think it, but I am reminded of an old story. It goes as such:

As a master who once taught three students his final lesson he was approached by each one of them separately. The first, came and congratulated him on his well earned rest and that his work should be expanded and taught far and wide. The second, came and stabbed him in his study claiming that he would carry on the information as his own. The third, arriving last, saw his master slowly dying and instead wondered if perhaps this was truly the last lesson. He watched and waited and only after his master died, had he truly learned everything.

I wonder whether I am a student or the master in the story and if there is yet anything left for me to teach or learn.

Lady Eleanor Ducal

October 23rd

Diary,

Alphene has returned.

This morning, upon waking, I found her tending to my room, cleaning it as if nothing had happened. When I reached out to her mind, I found it open to me, except for a few small areas walled off from my sight. I demanded she explain where she had been.

She apologized greatly for the suddenness of her disappearance. She had set upon removing all traces of Tarn Sistro, replacing his memory with that of mine own. She had to travel to the surrounding lands, doing all she could. She had tapped into my magic, each time slowly writing and reweaving the story, influencing the minds of those around her to accept my name as truth. Such magic, is strong and requires a growing web. Naturally the continued weave grows and will soon replace all written text and common knowledge of the name Tarn Sistro with Eleanor Ducal.

She apologized profusely, begging for forgiveness if it was not something I wanted. She saw no other way to protect us from what I had done. I had saved her and now by her right she had saved me from what would have certainly been death.

I tell her that I am not mad and yet, deep in the pit of myself, I feel some regret. Not only did I kill the man, but to erase him from existence and claim his legacy as mine. It seems wrong to me.

In the evening, I looked for Alphene to find her kneeling before the machine. She seemed to be caught in a trance-like state, waiting. When I approached her, she stirred, turning to face me. She spoke, possessed, different from her normal voice. She begged me to activate the machine once more. Now that it was complete, it was time for its grand purpose, the purpose I created it for. She spoke in the same way the machine spoke to me. In my mind. Like a child begging for permission. I could see it now, Alphene, the daughter of creation, the machine, the daughter of myself, and at the end of it, me, the creator.

I have decided that in two nights I shall activate my grand machine. The gears will turn once more, the magic shall flow through it. It will be the grand gesture of infinity that I bring upon the world. My machine, I hope, shall be a beacon of hope, and that I should stand by it, ready to welcome a new world with it.

The anticipation grows within me, or is that my own excitement for what could be?

Lady Eleanor

October 25th

Tonight I activated the machine. The cogs whirred to life. First, the slow churning, a rumbling beneath the surface, a slow groan as the oil slick pieces slid together, neatly, cleanly, efficiently. Then from within the low roar as the magic began to activate. Energy fusing in waves, each twist, each turn of the cogs a burning roar that only increased their power. I could feel the energy beneath the surface, it danced across the metal and into the palms of my hands with renewed vigor. I could feel it call to me, beckon me towards the center. The outstretched arms waiting, surging with a ripple of energy that bent the air around it. I could feel the electricity crackle, my hairs standing on edge. I could feel my pupils dilate in excitement, my breathing heavy, my body aching to step into the archway.

It took every drop of power I had to step away. Even now, safe here in my room, I can feel the hum beckoning me. I know I can not resist it.

I can feel Alphene watching me, staring at me, waiting, expectantly for me to go down there and step into the machine. I suspect she knows more of how I will exit it than I do, but if she does, she dares not say it.

Will I turn out like her or will I turn out as something else entirely, Will I even be myself when I return. I do not know. I am not scared of what might come, I know that there is no world where I might resist the call of destiny now. My future, lies waiting there in the combination of science and magic. I could spend my life studying, reading, learning in attempt to prepare myself, but I am nothing if not ready.

To those out there seeking the beyond. If I do not sit down to write again, if I should become something other than myself, than do not be afraid. Pursue the unknown and be challenged by it.

Lady Eleanor, Mother of Invention

October 31st

Eleanor stood in the dark and dreary basement, her nightgown blowing from a non existent breeze. The air was charged with electricity. It crackled along the stone flooring and into her bare feet. It set the hairs on the back of her neck standing on edge. She stared ahead, almost caught in a dreamlike trance. Her eyes were vacant, solid black orbs. The energy that passed in glowing bolts caught in them like a flickered mirror.

The machine she had perfected hummed in the silence. The cogs grinded in silent low ripples beneath the metal paneling. Pistons pumped with muffled thumps. The magic vibrated with each movement sending electrical pulses of energy through the air above it. The arcways catching the pulses before sending them right back from where they came. The metal arms hung like huge hooked hands, waiting, outstretched for one person, Eleanor Ducal.

She stepped forward, slowly at first, her gown flying open baring her skin to the muggy damp air of the basement. She trembled, not out of fear, but excitement. Even beneath the trance, this was something she wanted. Her feet slid against the stone, tiny imperfections scraping and tearing at her skin. It did not slow her pace.

She stopped beneath the hooks, the machine slowed its rhythm. The vibrations in the air shifted, growing slower, more arrhythmic. It was as if the machine was excited.

Eleanor reached up, hands grabbing the metal hooks tightly. Her fingers curled around them, cupping the metal tightly even as it dug into her fingers. Blood dripped down from one of her fingers, sliding over the curved surface of the metal. It sank into it, disappearing in a soft glow.

The machine roared to life. Electricity crackled as the magic conduits surged. She could feel her heart race to match pace with the mechanical pieces churning inside, or was the machine trying to catch up to her. It did not matter, they were one and the same.

Electricity surged down the hooks and into her arms. It rippled underneath her flesh igniting every vein and nerve with energy. It pulsed beneath her skin in bright blue glowing arcs. Her eyes flashed blue as she screamed, spit flying into the air as her body surged against the hooks, her hands stuck, unable to open. Her feet shook, toes curling inward as the electricity surged through her once more.

Eleanor cried out a loud ragged scream. Her bones shook, cracking and reforging, metallic filament surging through every damaged piece. She felt heavy, as if her body would break beneath the newfound weight. Invisible strands reached out digging beneath her skin. She could feel them as if they were burrowing through her but nothing could be seen. The threads began to stitch at her muscles, threading in new, silvery cords beneath the surface. The electricity fused them to the organic pieces, strengthening them, building them up to support her new framing.

Behind her eyes, conduits of energy ran like surging pieces of data. Bright blue pulsed beneath the swirling blackness of her eyes, a soft glow that thumped deeper into her brain. Every input of information, the sound, sight, smells, was all just data to be processed and affixed to her new mind. She could feel it expand, synthetic framing building beneath organic mesh, compressing it and copying it into stacks. Where her brain could only hold so much data, this new computational matrix could hold everything and more. It could purge useless data and replace it with intentional, methodical thought.

She smiled, her lips curling upward as her screaming stopped. There was no need for screaming, she could just turn off the pain. It was a wasteful thought anyways. To conceive pain when she could instead focus on the physical changes happening in an objective sense. The skin was coated in a thick liquid that oozed out of tubing set at the top of the machine. She could feel it soak into her joints, carving them out from the organic around them, pristine metal designed to support the weight of so much more than she could. Her shoulders and neck, clad in a stunning golden shell that wrapped around her torso like a gilded vest. Flesh between it, tender and reinforced, not easily broken.

The machine surged, streams of energy flowing into her. She could feel it, speaking to her in a language only a mother and child could speak. She could hear it ask if it did good.

“You did very good my child.”

The words came from her mouth but she found them odd. Misshapen. As if she was speaking for the first time. They felt odd, like a jumble of marbles. This would not do for a lady. If she was to go to the town and tell them of her marvels, she would have to improve her language capability.

She released the hooks and lowered herself to the floor. Her feet withstood the weight. Heavier though, she stumbled to find her new center of balance. She trembled, feet fumbling to hold her up. Once she did, the calculations for how to stand became engraved in her head. Her shoulders rolled back, confident, she could program herself for anything she might need, the knowledge already existed, it must only be applied.

“Mistress. Your gown.”

Alphene stood in the doorway to the room, her broken frame put together by imperfect hands. Eleanor would have to improve her first. After all she had been beside her through everything. Her protector, her carer.

“Alphene. Thank you. But I do not need that paltry thing now. Modesty is not needed while I work. Come. I have been struck by brilliance and shall remedy the work I have done.”

Alphene’s eyes shone bright as tears welled up in them. She stepped forward and fell to her knees before Eleanor. “Mistress please do not feel the need to reward me. I only did what you would have wanted.”

“Yes. And now I will that you be perfect as I am.” Eleanor crouched down, the calculations for how to maneuver her weight running between her breaths with each second. She cupped Alphene’s face. “Now sleep.”

The will pushed out of her like an energy current surging between the air between them. Alphene’s neck twitched slightly as though a switch was forced off inside of her. Slowly her eyes became glassy, all life fading from them as her body froze in place. She did not breathe. Her pulse frozen beneath the surface. Eleanor could feel the girl’s mind shut off and began to probe.

The machine behind her roared slowly, energy surging from it across the room to Eleanor’s awaiting hands. It danced across her fingertips, magic dancing between microscopic runes on her fingertips like magical lights. Eleanor smiled and pressed them into the soft skin of Alphene’s body. Energy pulsed into the frozen girl sending small twitches within her.

Eleanor had a long night ahead of her. But by morning, the world would meet her in all of her glory. Eleanor the Mistress of Machinery.