Chimæra Fabricatus [Naruto]

Hearing was the first sense that returned to her in the darkness.

She awakened to the sound of dripping – a quiet and rhythmic dripping of some gelatinous substance. It began suddenly and increased to a flow, like that of mud down a gentle slope. As suddenly as it came the sound tapered off, returning to infrequent and nearly inaudible drips.

In these instants her other senses began to rouse, though her body was numb and dull to her mind. Immediately, she became aware of numerous unpleasant sensations.

Slight vertigo assaulted her. Her fingertips tensed against a slab of stone, desperately seeking a firm hold – something to guarantee stability. The illusion of falling passed as her mind oriented to the fact that she was already lying down.

A dim red light pierced through her eyelids and indicated that her vision was intact, for her eyes had merely been closed this whole time.

Her facial muscles twitched, flinching away from the lightsource, eyes squinting shut even tighter.

Even these slight movements caused her skin to itch and crawl all over. Something lukewarm was coating her skin. The tactile sensation was unmistakable: a thin layer of gelatinous residue was built up in patches all along her exposed body.

She inhaled sharply through her clenched teeth, the sound of which alerted her to the fact that she had not been regularly breathing since she awakened.

Her leaden hands sprung clumsily up to her face, requiring all of her concentration to control. Urgently she wiped away the obstructing slime, flicking her hands to the side and depositing the problem elsewhere for now. Based on what she'd heard earlier, there was likely a lot more residue where that came from.

The gentle tickling of a breeze wafted across her now-somewhat-clean face and hands. Some of the heaviness in her head and hands had dispersed as well. Whatever the residue was, it seemingly had a numbing effect on her body.

She opened her eyelids partially, hoping to adjust her eyes to the light level without pain. This hope was in vain, however, for even the dim light around was too much to bear initially.

Blinking rapidly, she suspected she must have been unconscious for quite a while to elicit such a reaction. Either that, or her vision was vastly more sensitive than it should be.

Slowly her eyes began to adjust, revealing a soaring stone ceiling above her dominated by a massive circular skylight. Arranged in a pentagon around this skylight were five smaller circular windows: one of each primary color, one purple, and one green. Framed in the skylight was a starry sky tinted with a radiant red-white hue. Her eyes widened further, captivated by the phenomena before her:

A perfect solar eclipse was still visible for just a few instants before it began to wane.

Ever so slightly, normal sunlight began to peek out again from behind the passing moon and obscure the previously visible corona.

She averted her gaze and shielded her face with an arm. Eclipse or not, it was painful to stare at the sun.

Shaking her head clear of the momentary distraction, she forced her body into a sitting position. The adjustment brought a sense of weight to her attention. Her lengthy hair, reaching down to her lower back, was suffused with the slimy grey fluid as well. Additionally, there was a soiled hair ornament that bunched her hair up just below the back of her neck, allowing it to remain at least somewhat orderly. The downside was that it caused even more slime to clump up in her hair, weighing her down significantly. It seemed that the accessory had an ornate metal clasp, the contours of which felt familiar to her touch as she reached up to undo it. In fact the whole gesture felt familiar, but her inability at the moment to recall why... it discomfited her.

Unlatching the clasp and shaking it free loosened a hefty glob of gunk from behind her head and lessened the tension in her neck.

Irritated, she set the clasp aside began to vigorously swipe the gunk off her body as much as she could, especially out of her hair as she glanced at her surroundings.

The expansive oval room she occupied was absolutely slathered in a bluish-grey viscous fluid. Intricate and several-meter tall statues of serpentine dragons lined the perimeter, though visibly deteriorated with time. Shattered stone and porcelain debris was scatted in places around, a layer of dust coating pretty much everything as well.

She sat atop a somewhat carved table; the largest concentration of fluid was piled up against its base. The worn stone floor was also covered entirely in a several meter radius around... her.

...

Her face remained impassive, but she shuddered slightly as she imagined being buried within all of that slime.

What hell was this? She felt a serious disconnect with her surroundings.

This wasn't right! Everything about this was wrong. At least, some part of her felt that way.

Something was so very off about... everything here on a fundamental level, but conscious understanding of the problem eluded her. It lurked just beyond memory. The sensation of incompleteness nagged at her.
The air itself seemed sickly. The walls seemed to bend and loom above her, casting illusions of impossibly overlapping space. Her memories were in disarray. Shadowy and distorted imagery flooded her mind when she tried to calm down.

She was seriously beginning to panic.

Concern and wariness flowed through her, mind incapable of maintaining her train of thought. Her skin tingled anew, an energy welling up and swirling around within her. She felt a visceral alarm, but this power was at her command. It was part of her, she need only exercise her will and it would serve.

She squinted her eyes, limbs tensing, having removed as much of the gunk as she could with just her bare hands. With lithe and delicate movements she brought herself into a crouch atop the... altar... before bracing herself with a hand and peering even more sharply in the darkness around. She was frankly surprised by the ease and control of her motions, which readied her to spring away from any approaching threat at a moment's notice.

Gone was the sluggishness from before.

She could only just now say she was truly awake and aware. The energy within her roiled about, reacting to her subconscious directives.  It was elegant and disciplined, lively and warm. Above all, it radiated an aura of absolute indignation. This was her power, fiercely unyielding in the face of whatever this disgusting affront was. That feeling seemed to emerge from the deepest core of her soul.

Belatedly, she recalled this energy was her chakra.

In that moment, it had articulated the emotional responses she felt unable to process in her panic.

The realization brought upon her an odd sense of calm. Her chakra's intense and rich amethyst coloration exuded a sense of familiarity even stronger than with her hair clasp.

It made her feel like ... herself.

That's right, she had self.

That was the problem – some form of ego-loss had thrown her whole being into chaos. She was not anyone else. There was unity and completeness in her form. Chakra, soul, and body were one.

Yet... there was a melancholy in this feeling. Like she had suffered a profound loss. That she was subjected to something against her will. The chakra within her still bristled at the injustice. Who exactly was she, again?

This re-acquaintance with her own chakra served as a reminder that she had only escaped the worst. That she could have lost her very soul during... whatever it was that happened. Death would be preferable to destruction of the soul. She didn't recall how she knew, but she knew.

But here she was.

Just her, alone. Alive.

 

A quiet breeze wafted through the room around her.
At least she had a chance to recover from this, right?

Her heart felt like it was being clenched by a vise.

Indescribably complex feelings arose within. Chakra pulsated passionately around her.

Wisps of faint purple light manifested around the contours of her body, dancing in the empty space and weaving intricate shadows in the still-dim room. A sense of resignation dueled a newfound hope within her.

Dare she have hope? Her memory still failed her.

Was it alright to survive here? Would the suffering only worsen? Was it really over or was it just a fluke? Would her soul be ripped away from her body as soon as she relaxed? The anxiety was unbearable. Even the source of these anguishing feelings remained unknown.

The chakra leaking from her body accelerated more violently, twitching and whipping around like a child's hands lashing out.

Her vision momentarily clouded.
Fiercely, she shook away these unnecessary thoughts. This was all the reaction she would allow herself for now.

Her mind was a mess – out of sync with her body.

She recognized that she still was not in total possession of herself, unable to keep composure.

Blinking the wetness from her eyes, through sheer willpower she resolved to deal with this internal turmoil later. She still needed to be on her guard.

Minutes passed and the room was gradually illuminated by the returning sunlight. Silence pervaded as even the sludge had ceased dripping. Not stirring the slightest sound, she cast her gaze around, noting four trails of the bluish slime each leading back to a one of four identically carved ritualistic sigils. These sigils aligned with and were located under the colored windows on the ceiling. The altar itself rested upon a short dais, and directly behind her was a grand arching doorway.

Noting the exit, she searched for signs of life other than herself. Still swirling around her body, her chakra converted and extended almost automatically –  pulsing out in a subtle wave and seeking a reaction from any significant foreign chakra. Finding nothing within a sizable distance, she grasped her hair clasp in her hand tightly, the only familiar item in this room.

This place unnerved her. It felt like a place of death –  and her instincts were telling her that something terribly powerful had happened here.

Yes... that's right, something terrible had happened.
An altar. Suspicious substances. Ritualistic sigils. Celestial phenomena.

Could she be subconsciously suppressing her memory? Was this trauma something her mind deemed best forgotten? She must still be in shock.

All signs were pointing to some curse or forbidden art, one that had targeted her. Surely she must know something.

Immersed in paranoia, she launched herself clear of the altar.

Landing several meters from the dais, she stumbled forward to evade the edges of the slime pools. While her body was full of vitality, her chakra was unstable when she channeled it, messing with her trajectory. Whatever. That was not a problem for now. She was leaving.

Casting one last glance at the eerie scene behind her, she felt a chill down her spine and made haste for the doorway.