Mistake

This is just another one.

Another soul, kept sedated as all the rest. The decanter roils gently, but each time the soul licks at the edges of the jar it comes away with more of that energy, leaving it in a permanent state of slumber, only ever barely breaching the waves before slipping right back under.

In one wing of the Catacombs, you have the Vat. A rectangular pool carved into the weary stone that makes up this accursed place, a few feet deep with worktables surrounding it. This place is… unadorned. It was a sudden addition to the Catacombs that you needed only as soon as you’d begun experiments with Ichor, and it’s not a place where you necessarily do your finest work.

By dim candlelight, you set the decanter down, alongside another, smaller vial—containing within it the soul of a wolf. Today’s experiment is a simple one: To make something like the Wildkin, to see if souls can effectively be fused by using Ichor as a catalyst and anchoring them together.

It should be a simple process. You uncork the wolf’s soul, drawing it like smoke from the vial and into the decanter that currently contains his soul. You feel bad for the wolf. You do not feel bad for him.

You mix them as finely as you can, pulling them and entangling them through each other until the red of the wolf’s soul is no more than shining streaks in the violets of his soul. Then, you withdraw them both just as you’d done with the wolf, winding their coalescence around your hand, kneeling down to the pool… and plunging it into the Ichor with force.

You push it through the Ichor, allowing it to splay out within while maintaining fine control of both the Ichor itself and the soul to prevent them from destroying each other. This requires an extraordinary focus, one you’ve only recently built; lose your grip on either one, and they will both tear into each other, and you will lose both of the souls, as you’ve done a few times now. Bit by bit, though, you force the Ichor into the ‘mold’ of these entwined souls, steadily building layers of mass within it.

It comes together… slowly. By feel. But you can’t see the result until it emerges, and although you follow the mold perfectly, it feels… wrong. Too much mass.

And now, you see why.

You stand up, once it feels as if it’s finally done, allowing it to remain in the Ichor a moment longer… before bidding it to rise, a massive, furred hand slamming down against the edge of the pool. Steadily, it drags itself out of the sloshing Ichor; an immense beast, thoroughly unlike the elegant wolf Wildkin you’d sought to create. The snarling, heavy breaths that pour from his throat are not those of a Wildkin.

He emerges, eight feet in total, far too large. His barrel chest and muscular arms are nothing like the man from which he came. What… is this thing? Where, between the wolf and that wretch, could this form have come from?

You let him go, for a moment. In curiosity. You watch him crane his head towards you, wild eyes catching in the candlelight. Instead of speaking as you’d hoped he might, to ask you perhaps what you’ve done to him or where he is, he simply lunges at you. You jaunt out of his way, a bit surprised, but reach out, seizing his soul almost as if by a leash, and pull down hard, ripping him off his feet and thudding to the ground heavily enough to shake the worktables.

“Let me establish this now, beast: You are mine to control. You are my new guardian. You are my new servant. You are my newest… mistake.” You sigh through your teeth, looking him over. He’s nothing like what you were hoping for.

He snarls and thrashes at his spiritual bindings, but you have him firmly caught.

…

He’s… well.

He’s turned out to be a better presence than you expected. In time, he’s levelled out; bit by bit, he ceases to gnash at his bindings. You can trust him enough to release him from your direct control when you are alone with him in the Catacombs. He’s been… helpful, if nothing else.

A lot of your work was much harder before you had him around, admittedly. Moving bodies is annoying, and unlike the rest of your thralls, he’s smart enough that you can send him to the surface and get him to do some basic work for you. Even if… he does cause trouble, from time to time.

He doesn’t seem to retain any memory of his past self. You think that’s for the best. It truly seems as if the wolf within him has somehow completely overtaken him, even though it was pitted against what seemed a much stronger soul… maybe that freak was willing to let the wolf take the helm. Now that he’s been transformed so, his soul looks… far different than the simple mixture you plunged into the Ichor. You didn’t think that process would change them much.

And… he’s… soft. Sometimes you find yourself hugging him. He’s not… ugh.

Not all of your enjoyment of his presence lies with the practical. Sometimes, you just need something to treat you with kindness that isn’t utterly compelled to do so, and even when you completely release him from your control or offer him a chance of escape, he never takes advantage of it.

One night, you find yourself pressed up against him in bed, just because he’s… warm. And he even gently strokes his hand across your back.

And then, one day, you send him to the surface, and do not see him again.