Moons later..
A hiss.
A hum.
Light.
It was all followed by a subtle thrumming sound, not unlike the beating of a heart. The ceruleum flowed in sputters and spurts through the tubes into the core of the unit, submersing the clear chamber set in its center. Within the casing, held in place with braces and host to a network of nerve-like wires, was a Soul Crystal. His Soul Crystal, for Gogonji could trust no one other than himself to do this. And, even then, he had one finger by the emergency shut-off and his other hand wrapped tight around the handle of the heaviest hammer he could acquire.
One must needs take risks in order for advancement, but he would be like unto Rhalgr should the machine look even for the briefest instant like it would take his Soul Crystal away from him. He would not lose his connection to the ancient Nymian people. He absolutely refused to lose access to their forgotten knowledge. And to Ezra. He had made abso-damn-lutely sure of that during the entire process in which this strange prototype was put together.
Which in and of itself had been quite the feat, if he could pat himself on the back a little bit. Even with the pages of formulae giving credence to his theories and the roughest of blueprints made with his thoroughly limited knowledge of Magiteknology - something he was quite certain he needed to rectify sooner rather than later - it had taken much insistence and the greasing of palms before they would even deign to take a look at his work. At least he gained some gratification by the double and triple takes that those vision-less opo-opos had made when they looked over the figures. And more once he had this prototype put together and set for testing.
Testing that would only be done here, in his secluded shack, away from all of them. He didn't even give the technicians the option to copy down any notes on his designs unless they were on the blueprints themselves; blueprints that even now lay next to the thrumming device dominating the available space on his tabletop. He would give them credit for aiding in paving the way to a better future, of course, but he was not so foolish as to let them have free reign over even the smallest bit of his intellectual property without his knowledge. It was property that he had devised, he had funded (for ceruleum was not cheap and bit heavily in his assets), and that he had sought with tireless vigil. This was knowledge for him and him alone to have, to expound upon, and to profit off of.
Gogonji leaned close over the device, tapping lightly on the clear casing that held his precious chunk of crystallized knowledge. It was completely submerged in the ceruleum now, the entire chamber an almost enchanting shade of azure. Yet he could still see his Soul Crystal, and he eyed it critically for any deformities; any sign of distress or cracking that would herald both a solid click of a switch and a much more visceral shattering of the glass. When he saw nothing that offended his already high-strung senses, he proceded to the next stage.
Another button was pressed and the nerve system of wires surrounding the Soul Crystal crackled to life. It was such a simple enough theory in hindsight: ceruleum was a processed, liquid form aether to a crystal's more silicate form. Flowing the former over the latter could theoretically simulate a flow of aether not unlike the flow of aether in one's body. And with the proper application of electrical current at the proper voltage and wattage...
Perhaps one might be able to "awaken" a Soul Crystal.
Another careful check of the stone and Gogonji's hands drifted to the pair of dials, designed to alter the amount of energy flowing through to the device from the attached cluster of Lightning-aspected crystals. The strength, the frequency, it could all be adjusted here. Gogonji had already calculated what he figured might be the aetheric frequency of a living body's electrical current, but there was till a margin of error that needed to be sifted through. Levilm by levilm, ramz by ramz.
What he was looking for was a sign... not unlike the telltale glow of white auracite as described in a treatise he had read by one Moenbryda. Something to let him know that the aetheric... resuscitation perhaps was the proper word to use... had succeeded and the Soul Crystal was interacting with its ceruleum bath. Each gentle twitch of either dial had Gogonji's amethyst gaze snapped back to the chamber, looking for signs of impending success... or impending failure.
50 millilmramz, nothing. 60 millilmramz, still nothing. 65, 70, 75. The Doman Lalafell ticked up the dial higher and higher, letting more of the lightning crystal's power flow through the ceruleum. It was only when it was up in the upper range of his theorized margin that the eagle-eyed Scholar noticed the briefest of flickers when passing from 80 to 81 millilmramz.
Again he combed through the range, but on a much more minute range. It took all of his willpower to keep his fingers from shaking and sending the dial sharply one way or the other. 80.1 milliramz, nothing.
80.2... no.
80.3, 80.4... no and no.
80.5, 80.6, 80.7...
Light.
The symbol etched in the Soul Crystal, the enigmatic shape that looked not unlike the spectacles Gogonji often wore, began to glow with an inner light. The light reflected in the Lalafell's violet eyes as they widened in awe. He ticked it back down to 80.6 and the glow faded away again, only to return when set back to 80.7. 80.8? It turned dark once more.
80.7 millilmramz. Light. Success.
But what next? While Gogonji had theorized something like this, had sought to prove it could be done with research and formulae, he knew not what to do next. After all, the knowledge locked within the Soul Crystal seemed to come at random spurts, under the strangest criterion seemingly set by the stone itself. He need only have it in contact with him when these irrational events occurred and he gained access to forgotten knowledge. Maybe he must needs brush his hand over the case itself and...
"Sir."
Gogonji looked up from the map laid open before him, the rest of the war council also looking up at the sudden entry of the soldier. His black hair clinged close to his face and his ears, shimmering with the sweat of exertion. And the sweat of fear.
"They come again. From Aldenard."
The others looked to him. He was their senior, after all. When the war broke out, he was first to be appointed to this position, to Master of Tactics and the illustrious Eye of Oschon. It was his mastery of mathemagica and knowledge of warfare that had been crucial in maintaining parity in this gruesome war of conflicting magicks.
"Information. Give me information! Numbers, direction, speed, anything and everything you have!" he snapped as he cast aside the markers resting atop the map like it was mere chaff. And as the data was relayed to him, he replaced them. Forming a miniature simulation of the attack that was about to bear down on them. His slate gray eyes flitted over the scene he had set down before himself, his work looked over in kind by his peers. His comrades, his peers, his students.
It was then that he knew. His hand almost had a life of its own as it sought ink and quill, jotting down notes and directions like a man possessed. His eyes followed the movements of his own fingertips with the closest attention, to ensure that no error was made in his script. Once it was done, he sought a handful of drying powder to sprinkle over the wet ink - casting it over his orders even as he returned the quill to its pot with his other hand.
"Take this to the front, as quickly as you can," Gogonji ordered. "Should you be a thousandth of a bell too late, it could alter the results horrifically."
Such a statement was not true, but it impressed the urgency of the situation.
"Y-yes, m'lord..." The courier's hand reached out shakily for the scroll, still winded from his sprinting. He was given no solace by the Master of Tactics and had the parchment shoved into his still-quivering hands. The man stumbled back, staring dumbly down at the scroll.
"No dawdling! GO!"
With a jerk, the courier fled. Gogonji watched his fleeing form for the briefest of instants before turning back to the rest of the council. His eyes were hard and focused, moving slowly from Scholar to Scholar.
"Gentlemen, that should buy us some time. Time to properly plan a repelling action. Now--"
Gogonji ripped his hand from the device, stumbling backwards in his chair and upending it with a momentous crash of wood on wood and Lalafell on wood. The memories that were not his own were still fresh in his mind, but they had an unexpected visitor in the lances of pain from the force of impact. The eldest Gegenji child spent many a moment curled up on the floor, his thoughts flitting from "BY HALONE'S ICY TITS THAT HURT!" to "WHAT IN THALIAK'S NAME WAS THAT!?" in equal measure. It was only once the pain started to subside that he mused more on the latter than the former.
He recognized the effect. He had suffered it before, the flashes of a person's past and understanding tongues not his own. Such was the power of the Echo, a power both amazing and obtrusive in equal parts. However, such flashes only came when in close proximity to the living. To those who held such memories within their still-functioning mind. But this...?
This was different, monumentally so.
Had he... had he truly revived the Soul Crystal? And was it the device allowing him to tap into the memories locked within the ancient stone by itself, or was it a combination of both machine and his Echo "speaking" to the awakened soul within? This required more testing. Much, much more.
~