The creature I selected to bring forth into our world was a tiny thing. It looked like a slug no larger than a mouse. Its skin was grey and membranous, and it slithered along the ground leaving a thick, viscous slime. I watched it for a while. To be an Impomancer in the Other World is to be a disembodied spirit. We can float around, seeing all there is, but we're not really there, and the creatures of that world don't see us. Well, most of them don't see us. And trust me when I say, you would rather not garner the attention of those that can.
I reached out with my spirit and touched the little slime and it quickly faded from the Other World. Then I began to gag.
Tutor Windlass panicked and called for help. I remember not being able to breathe. Feeling something deep inside slithering up my throat. I tasted bile and something far worse and retched as a grey tentacle reached out from inside my mouth. The thing was larger than I had thought with tentacles thrashing as I vomited it up. It was already as large as a cat once it was out and the thought of it inside of me, the taste of it as I brought it up, made my stomach turn. I stumbled away from it, retching and gagging while it thrashed around the floor, growing larger and larger until it occupied more of the small room than I did.
That was when I noticed I was no longer connected to the Other World. The little monster stole my Impomancy Source as it slithered its way up and out of me. Once an Impomancer's connection to the Source is severed, so too is the command they hold over whatever they have summoned, and that command can never be regained.
Tutor Windlass' assistant picked me up and carried me from the training hall even as I watched the thing continue to grow, thrashing about as more tentacles erupted out of the pallid, membranous flesh.
The monster I summoned continued to grow until the training hall was nothing but rubble and debris beneath it. My mistake that day cost two people their lives, and another six were injured before they killed it. As far as I know I am still the only Sourcerer to have ever summoned an Abomination. The first and last. It was quickly put on the banned list and the Orrans and Terrelans both respected that list for good reason. To this day, I sometimes dream of that disgusting monster and I always wake up retching, the foul taste of it strong in my mouth.
Not all the things from the Other World are mindless animals, though hellions and khark hounds might give that impression. Many, like the Abomination, have a strange intelligence to them. It knew I would use the Source to control it and it dragged the shard of magic from my belly as it passed into our world. Others have an even greater intelligence and some few can even speak our languages. But it's important to remember that they are still fucking monsters.
My hooded lantern cast a beam of light into the cavern. It was a poor source of illumination and I wondered why Deko hadn't ordered the room filled with torches to keep the darkness at bay. Glancing back, I saw nothing but Horralain staring at me from the doorway and knew I'd get no answer. Whatever had taken residence in the cavern was mine to deal with. It dawned on me then, how foolish a situation I had gotten myself into. I was a Sourcerer without any Sources. I didn't know how to fight, even if I had a weapon. The creatures of the Other World were called monsters and horrors for a good reason. Even a mostly mindless hellion would tear me apart and there was nothing I could do to stop it but tell it to fuck off.
I took each step slowly, cautiously, shining my meagre light around me. The cavern was empty, save for rubble strewn about the floor. It was hewn straight from the rock that surrounded us, but even in the darkness I could see the walls were too straight and uniform. The craftsmen Deko kept down in the belly of the Pit had been carving the cavern with greater skill than us normal scabs could ever have managed. We were blunt instruments, not fine tools. As I ventured further in, I soon found there was a throne at the far end. The Pit boss had created a throne room for his palace and some unnatural beasty from the Other World had claimed it for itself. The thought brought a chuckle to my lips. The laugh that echoed back at me was mocking and harsh and most definitely not mine.
I almost tripped over the first body. I was too busy looking up and around, not at the ground. The rags made it obvious he was a scab, though I had rarely seen clothing bloodier. The man was covered in thin gashes all over his arms, face, and chest. He might have had a look of fear frozen on his face, but it was hard to tell under the wounds and blood. The one eye that was still intact stared up at me, pale and sightless. In short, the poor bastard was a right bloody mess.
It was the first time I had truly seen the handiwork of a creature from the Other World. I had summoned creatures and set them on my enemies, or lost control of monsters so that they escaped into our world, unbound. Yet I had never seen up close what those creatures could do to a person. I saw it now and I didn't look away. I deserved to know what sort of horrors my callousness was visiting upon the world.
I realised the dark was closing in around me and looked down to see my lantern as bright as before. The darkness was a thick, cloying thing that drank up the light and left only black behind. I wanted to scream, panic and fear mixing into an unbearable energy. But I couldn't. I couldn't scream, couldn't move. All I could do was watch as the darkness swallowed me up until it was complete. Then came the icy cold fingers of a real monster.
Terror froze me to the spot, made me rigid. I was so scared, I couldn't even tremble. There is a strange response in animals when confronted with something terrifying and beyond their capability to understand. They just stop, as though if they remain entirely still nothing can see them. I learned that day that terrans have the same response. I have the same response. It was a revelation and not a welcome one.
I could feel the lantern in my hand still, yet there was no light or heat. Trails of ice drew up and down my skin, leaving frozen pain in their wake. I remembered the dead man on the ground and the wounds he had, hundreds of thin slices all over him.
Fear and terror are strange things. They can paralyse the body, yes, but they also often paralyse the mind. I've known people far smarter than I, turn into babbling fools once fear sets in. I have used the trick many times to my advantage. I may not be an Empamancer, but these days, I know how to instil fear into people.
I closed my eyes and swallowed down the lump in my throat, trying desperately to ignore the icy trails along my skin. The creeping sensation of the grave yawning open to swallow me whole. It dawned on me then just how fucked I was.
I am the weapon. That thought, that mantra drilled into me by the tutors at the academy lit a spark of anger in me. Anger that I was in a situation so far beyond my control all I could do was wait for death. Anger, not at the arsehole of a monster trying to eat me alive, but at myself for not being bloody-well strong enough to fight back. "ENOUGH!" The word erupted as a broken scream torn from my mouth. I was quite surprised when the trails of ice stopped. For a few moments, silence held. Then I heard something move behind me. It sounded quite big.
"What are you?" I asked of the darkness. I thought myself quite knowledgeable back then. I thought I knew most of the secrets the Other World held. I know now just how much of a bloody fool I was. I knew nothing.
There was no reply, only a noise like metal tapping against stone. "You're no ghast," I said. Now the icy trails were gone from my skin I could feel hot, wet blood oozing out along the little cuts. My arms, chest, and legs all stung from the wounds. A ghast couldn't have done that to me; those horrors have no physical form.