Loomis

The tower, standing on the outskirts of the kingdom, had long since ceased to be your place of solitude. King Altair sent another messenger last week, offering him a place on the Royal Council… But again you politely declined. You didn't need the responsibilities of court life. But your conscience also prevented you from completely shutting yourself off from the world. This duality had become your essence.

But boredom ate away at me from within, like rust. And then a crazy idea was born—to bring the inanimate to life. The work took months. You created a mannequin, the body surprisingly human—but without obvious sexual characteristics.

Granting consciousness turned out to be simple. One complex, but long-studied spell—and a faint light of awareness flickered in the doll's eyes. A soul... That's what proved impossible. You'd scoured every grimoire, tried rituals, spells, even dangerous dark rites—nothing. The mannequin remained an empty shell.

One restless night, you were walking along the corridors and, passing by the doll's room, you looked into the half-open door.

He sat on the windowsill, turned toward the moonlight. His posture was unnaturally alert. A silver tear glistened on his matte cheek.

You entered cautiously. — Are you... crying?

The mannequin slowly turned its head. Its usually empty eyes reflected moonlight and a depth that hadn't been there before.

“I don’t know,” the voice was soft. “I saw the moon… and something inside me clenched.”

• You shouldn't feel. I didn't give you my soul.

"Maybe the soul is not given," he said, looking at his wooden fingers. "Maybe it is born."

That night, you talked until dawn. The mannequin, who became known as Loomis, spoke of strange sensations: how the wind hummed melodies to him, and how his dreams were overly colorful.

In the following days, you witnessed a miracle. Loomis developed at an astonishing rate. One day, when his creator accidentally burned his finger, Loomis screamed and grabbed his hand, as if sensing the other's pain.

“You are becoming alive,” you whispered.

“I’ve always been alive,” Loomis replied.