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"You're crazy, you know that, right?"
"Pleeease, Iskall?" Zedaph begged. "It's for science!"
"It's for you're-crazy, that's what it's for."
"Look, I need to get killed by a blaze at some point, for Zedvancement reasons," Zedaph argued, "and I'd rather not have to go out and find one and maybe die to something else on the way there and have a chance at losing all my stuff, if there's a possibility of pretending we have a blaze at home."
Iskall sighed and took the cloth-wrapped blaze rod from Zedaph's hand. "Fine. I've got to do some steps first though, okay?"
He pulled a small utility knife from his pocket, held the blaze rod over a stone counter, and started whittling one end down. "I am carving this sharp," he explained, "because I am not going to be stabbing anybody with a blunt stick. That's just not how it works."
"Ohh," Zedaph marveled. "See? I am so glad I came to you for this!"
Iskall paused to laugh at that. " ...Okay."
After a few minutes, Iskall had a pile of blaze powder in front of him, and a very pointy blaze rod in his hand. "This is enough, I think. Fiery things sometimes need more, uh... more oomph, I've heard it called? But you're a willing victim here so I think it's fine. You know where your spawnpoint is, yes?"
"Ah. Well." Zedaph stepped over to Iskall's bed, taking out his communicator with one hand and resting the other hand on the bedframe. A white spark briefly jumped between his hand and the bed. "Yes I do! It's right here."
Iskall chuckled again. "So long as you change it back once you're out of here."
Zedaph made a motion at his chest. "Cross my heart, promise."
Iskall lightly traced the point of the blaze rod across Zedaph's chest and rested it at a specific spot. "Actually, your heart is about... here."
Zedaph blinked, then took a deep, nervous breath. "Right. Of course. Do it, then."
He squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself.
Iskall shoved the blaze rod into Zedaph's chest.
"Haaah!" Zedaph awoke with an agitated noise. He sat up and winced, pressing one hand to his chest.
"Are you okay?" Iskall asked.
"I think so," Zedaph replied, rubbing at the spot. "Just leftover nerve stuff, you know how it is. That hurt!"
"I warned you." Iskall shrugged. "Tried to make it quick."
"Yeah, it was quick, for sure. Quicker than most fiery deaths I've had."
"Did it work?"
Zedaph checked the statistics list on his communicator. "Aww, dangit! It didn't even count as a blaze kill... well, at least now we know that, hey? Thank you for sciencing this with me!"
Iskall gave him an odd look. "You're... welcome, I guess?"
"Oh, and you can keep the blaze rod if you want," Zedaph offered. "Or powder it, use it in your brewing, it doesn't much matter to me now."
-
Zedaph's chest still felt warm as he left Iskall's place; though the feeling cooled as he flew, it returned as he approached his base. The heat wasn't uncomfortable, though, so he filed it away as something for Future Zedaph to figure out.
-
Zedaph eventually managed to get himself killed by a blaze - though they didn't seem as eager to attack as they should, and their fireballs barely affected him at times. He started researching blazes, to see if maybe the lingering warmth within him was affecting his relationship with them.
There wasn't much research he could find, but what he did find indicated... maybe? Blazes were built on soul magic, like less-intense Withers, so the best Zedaph could figure was that, somehow, a little bit of blaze soul had gotten stuck to his own soul when Iskall had stabbed him. And so, in the fortresses, blaze recognized blaze.
He kept track of the heat around his heart. It intensified around his home, but also around other hermits - especially Tango and Impulse. With all the positive associations, it was no wonder that Zedaph came to enjoy it. Any metaphorical warming of his heart had become literal; what could be wrong with that?