Author's Note: I am taking a bit of a liberty with Raven's power set. And yes, I am making her qualify as a psychic. One could argue that she was already in that category in the comics, but this was mostly depicted as being the result of her magic rather than conventional psychic sources (ex. biology, brain enhancement). This psionic power is not as powerful as her standard soul-self telekinesis, but it can still do some damage. There are also some visual cues readers can look for if they want to determine which telekinesis is which.

The unofficial rule I have for it: If it's purple and not black, it's tiresome but she's going slack/But if it's black and white, someone's in a whole lot of shite

Chapter 5: Intervention Part 2

| Sector 16, National City

| 2016 June 5th, 6:03 PM

No matter how many times Raven went through this, the feeling of plastic suction cups on her bare skin always made her feel vulnerable and uncomfortable. Well, that and the fact that she was currently hooked up to a rather menacing looking machine that she couldn't even begin to comprehend.

A disembodied voice spoke from a speaker. "Lift the weight again, please."

Her face remained passive as she did exactly that, her muscles not even straining as a black power covered the mount of metal before her. It was laced in a white outline, the contrast of which occasionally straining the eyes of anyone who stared at it for too long. And those that tried to look only at the white outline often compared it to looking at the sun — too bright to look at without damaging one's eyes. The black and white weight was hoisted into the air with barely a thought, and Raven saw fit to let it remain there for however long they wished.

Which, as it turned out, was a fairly long time. She remained eerily still for several minutes, not even bothering to stand up from her sitting position. But if anyone could read her thoughts right about now, they would know she was trying to become more at ease with the situation.

Granted, she didn't feel threatened or anything. But everything about these "research tests" made her feel… off. She was forced to wear a white shirt with white pants. She wasn't allowed to bring anything in or out of the room. And the most uneasy part? She had no idea what any of these machines did.

Nightshade told her it was to measure her psionic waves and brain activity, but she still had no idea how they did that. The advanced machinery gleamed in the corner of her sight, its various lights, buttons, and switches only serving to make it look exceptionally alien. The walls were maddeningly monochromatic with their pristine whiteness, and that lead her to the most unnerving thing in the room: The mirror.

They never told her about the mirror. But Raven knew there were people looking at her from beyond its reflective surface. If her intuition was right, she should be looking right at one of the scientists. Preferably in such a manner that she could feign eye contact.

With her being as uncomfortable as she was, it was only fair that they were put off, too. With any luck, she would be staring into the eyes of the old man who arrogantly called himself "the leading mind on superhuman energies". She thinks his name was Arthur?

She didn't see how his expertise would help anyway. She was no superhuman, but a half-demon. However similar they may appear to be, the differences between the two were significant.

The weight looming in the center of the room was more than 2 times her height, and if the feeling of her telekinesis was any indication, it was about the same weight as the giant boulders she used for concentration practice back on Azarath.

"Raven? Would you please begin jogging on the treadmill? We want to see if you can still continue lifting the weight if you are doing a physical activity."

-X-

There were indeed scientists behind the mirror, each wearing the standard white coats befitting of their station. A few were writing on clipboards, but the majority were paying attention to the various holographic interfaces that littered the room, each depicting a different set of data.

The first displayed her basic bio:

First Name: Raven

Last Name: N/A

Race: Half-Human, Half-CLASSIFIED

Point of Origin: CLASSIFIED

Estimated Age: 8-10 Earth Years

Mental Status: Stable

Additional Notes: Due to the nature of her powers, personnel are advised to not cause emotional distress. Her apathetic disposition is not to be taken as mental unwellness without specialized psychiatric evaluation.

Powers: Telekinesis, Flight, Empathy, Teleportation, Magic

Important Notes: Powers are emotionally influenced, use caution when subject is emotionally distressed.

Current Power Designation: Delta-05, Further Evaluation Requested

Inhibitor Collar Programming Type: Homo Sapiens Normalization (HSN), Adjusted with Custom Parameters

Evaluation Notice: Due to the collar's experimental programing, officials are expected to remain vigilant for potential mental and physical complications within the subject. Drastic health complications are to be met with protocol HC-036.

Warning: Due to the collar's experimental programming, it is not guaranteed that all of the subject's powers are neutralized. If the subject is seen using super powered abilities, procedure UPI-0036 or UPI-0048 is to be put into effect depending on the subject's intent of cause disruption.

Other Notes: REDACTED

The screen immediately next to it measured energy wavelengths, a few were dedicated to reading Raven's brain emissions, and others still were dedicated to measuring Raven's vital statistics. But a few were nothing but gibberish. Lines of useless code and a chaotic collection of numbers of symbols. You see, the thing about magic and technology is that they don't mix well. But it would be more accurate to say one does not translate well into the other.

It was common knowledge that if a computer either encountered something it couldn't read or encountered something it misinterpreted as being something else, then the entire system can get botched. It makes programs and algorithms become nothing but a cascade of faulty computer logic and erroneous data. And that data will continue to move through the system until it comes out as either faulty data or something completely unintelligible.

Or in simpler terms, the computers work completely fine. It's just the fact no one understands, and therefore hasn't coded in, values for 'magic' that technology can comprehend. It is a perpetual x-factor. A factor that has several types, varieties, and sometimes even changes on a whim through what many hypothesize to be the result of exponential dispersion for certain particles. Or so it is believed.

In theory, it should be possible to study magic to the point that it can be somewhat measured and understood. In the minds of leading experts around the globe, "real" magic was the result of a set of natural laws that has yet to be understood. And this seems to hold true, after all, several man-made machines now have the ability to sense and detect magic. So, it should be possible to analyze it, right?

"She doesn't appear to be getting tired." one woman said.

"That's a moot point." another said. "Some of our devices still can't find a useful algorithm to measure her power's energy potential or even determine what type of energy it holds. We only have surface readings."

An older man readjusted his glasses. "We can analyze and postulate on what we already have. We have more than enough scenarios and readings to go on. But our superiors want us to better understand this girl's limits. If she can lift 3,000 pounds like it's nothing, then perhaps we should have her lift things that we normally reserve for those who have super strength? Have her start lifting things in tons instead of pounds."

The woman scoffed. "Just because we have recorded several testing scenarios, doesn't mean our technology 'saw' everything. As a general rule, if a machine can't understand it, then the machine can't see it."

"Well, our machines clearly saw something, it just —" They looked at the holograms, the lines of blurred numbers and symbols remaining stagnant. "- doesn't know what it is. I grant you it may not have seen 'everything', but I wouldn't say it saw nothing either. We should try reprogramming the formulae again and see if we can't make more sense of it."

Another voice spoke up, this one gravelly enough that it could easily be identified as belonging to an older man. One who was probably in his 40s. "I think a better idea is to have her interact with different energy types. See how her barriers hold against electricity, plasma, radiation, ultraviolet light, etc. Those are things our machines can understand, and we can measure them against whatever we are seeing here."

"That may be true, Dr. Light*" the woman quipped, "but I don't think we will be allowed to. In order to commence such experiments at any significant velocity, we would have to put through a formal proposal since her powers can't be classified as 'energy based'. That means we have to wait at least a week before they even begin considering it, and honestly — given how finicky they are on potential health complications for this particular subject, I think they will be more likely to reject the proposal outright. At best they would only approve conventional voltage tests. But things like radiation would be off the table."

"Hm." he hummed. He looked at the holographic screens again, his eyes attempting to filter through the collected data for anything useful. "I suppose that's true. But I will still write up a proposal draft. Just in case." His eyes squinted upon seeing something of interest, his fingers continually swiping and zooming in on a few graphs. He wasn't entirely sure, but if he was correct, there may be a way to have her lose control of her abilities using a very specific supersonic frequency1*.

It would be temporary though and require the use of several million decibels of white noise. Not exactly something that could be easily produced. Still, perhaps they could use this knowledge to add in another temporary stun feature to her inhibitor collar?

He looked past the charts and into the two-way mirror, his eyes lingering on the lightly jogging form. Aside from her rather esoteric skin color, she did not look particularly impressive. She had a slight build, an angular face, and muscle mass that was barely above the human average. It was something he highly suspected was the result of her oh-so-classified and mysterious genetics.

And yet… she put him on edge. A regular human girl running on the treadmill would be sweating and probably giving a light pant at this point. But this girl only seemed marginally fatigued. He also couldn't help but notice how quickly her running form had improved over these past couple of weeks. No longer did she run like it was her first time doing actual exercise. Now she ran as if she has received prior training. Her breaths were almost continually measured, her muscle strain was minimized and most fascinating of all, her scans showed quick adaptation.

Her lungs were already attempting to maximize their inhalation capacity. Similarly, her neurons were already forming optimized synapses that would only enhance her running ability further. These changes were actually completely normal by human standards, courtesy of a human body willing to change and fine-tune itself when put under extreme strain through exercise and fitness. But these changes usually trigger over the course of several months of a rigorous training schedule, not over a couple of weeks with only minimal physical activity.

Granted she did not appear capable of super speed or anything like that. But give her the proper training and she could easily close the distance between herself and a professional in a relatively short period of time.

By itself, it's not all that scary. But the girl seemed to — how could he put it? — have a keenness about her. She stared at him through the mirror constantly, and not in the blank way Ace did on accident. No. She knew, or at least suspected, that she was looking at him, even though he knew she couldn't possibly look through the two-way mirror.

Just as peculiar was her penchant for knowledge. She might have known jack diddly squat about American history and political science, but she was capable of writing essays about the cultural customs of the Khmer empire and the fall of Rome. Her instructors insist that it was simply the result of having an atypical education that prioritized esoteric knowledge, but he knew better. He had seen her browsing history and book request lists. Children should not be looking up atlases for ancient Babylon!

He had no idea what her other half was, but he honestly wouldn't be surprised if one of her parents was some deep space alien. Something that was roughly humanoid but still had mostly predatory instincts. She was a freak, in any case.

He stared at the still floating weight, where the black and white glow was quickly becoming infuriating. It was clear they were not going to discover anything interesting this time around due to technical limitations. If so, then why not try to discover something new?

He lifted a finger to the main operating pad, his skin only lightly tingling when his finger pressed the holographic button that fed into the testing room's microphone. "Ah, Raven? We can clearly see you can hold the weight even when you are running using your standard abilities. But is there any other way you can lift it? Remember, you can use anything in the room that isn't part of our expensive equipment."

His colleagues sent him a bewildered set of glares, but most of them turned their attention to the subject once they were done bickering. He really didn't expect anything to come out of his outspokenness. But if nothing else they could get an idea of how creative this girl could get when faced with a problem.

She could try cutting and lifting the floor, for instance. But the metal's protective shielding (not to mention its sheer density) meant this likely would not happen. Or she could try making her powers into some sort of construct. Not all that interesting but they could at least confirm that she could make constructs powerful enough to lift a massive amount of mass. Whatever the results, or lack thereof, they could at least say they tried to find something useful.

He blinked a couple of times when the weight was lifted again, this time only being surrounded by a dark purple outline. His shock almost deafened him to the beeps and notifications from various machines, as well as the surprised murmurings from the other people inside of the room.

Well, well …this little freak also had conventional telekinesis by utilizing psionic energy. A quick glance at the screens all but confirmed this, with his own personal screen being littered with several notifications alerting him to unusual activities that could be seen in her brain scans.

Eagerly readjusting one of the room's cameras, Dr. Light refocused on the subject in both excitement and dismay. He could already hear his peers buzzing in the background as they began preparing new ability reports and recategorization proposals, the room buzzing slightly as fingers began rapidly typing on various holographic devices. But observing the subject for any fallout was just as important. And even though he wouldn't admit it out loud, he felt fascinated with what he saw.

Sweat beading down her face, her eyes determinedly focused on the floating object, a heaving chest that spoke of immediate exhaustion, and an extended arm that was trembling in midair. This was perhaps the first time he had ever seen her exhausted, and the sight gave him a slight twinge of pleasure.

She was trembling now, and breathing even harder. The great weight even began trembling in her psionic grasp, with the purple glow starting to flicker. How long had it been now? Only a minute or so, surely. He saw her begin lowering the bulky weight slowly, her arm steadily guiding its descent. That wouldn't do.

He turned on the speaker once again. "You must continue lifting the weight for as long as possible, Raven. The whole point of this testing period is so we can determine the limits of your abilities, and you are doing a good job in showing us that. So please, continue lifting the weight."

The hunk of metal stopped its unsteady descent, shakily floating back to its original height — and Dr. Light raptly watched every labored breath she took.

| Tower of Fate

| 2016 June 13th, 11:46 AM

Interdimensional travel was not an easy affair. It required tremendous skill and power, and a particular sensitivity to spatial-temporal shifts, and some dimensions were more difficult to reach than others. Of course, Azarath was one of those dimensions.

It was exceptionally isolated and guarded, and as a testament to that fact, even Dr. Fate had no idea of its existence until recently. He was surprised that they were actually able to do it — meaning, succeed in their lofty goal.

The Cult of Azar Dr. Fate knew of years ago always planned on participating in a mass exodus away from Earth. But they didn't want to go to just any far-off location. Instead, they strove to reach a place so thoroughly hidden in time and space that they could never be disturbed, and so they could be in a place where they could more easily attain enlightenment.

In reaching a land at the edge of magical realms, the faithful hoped to remove themselves from temptation and materialism. But above all else, they sought a place where they could meditate on the nature of the universe. To reflect the essence of creation unto themselves and ease the pain of those who suffered. A lofty goal, to be sure. But not at all uncommon for a religious group at the time. He had honestly expected for them to perish in their endeavor.

And yet here he was, preparing runes and all manner of arcane scripts so he could approach them. His lips were set in a stern frown as he looked at his hand, the gold-flecked gem2* causing a feeling of mild disgust to rise within the stoic sorcerer.

What he held was the product of their hubris. A gem that was now unimaginatively called a "Sin Gem" by the majority of modern spellcasters. In their attempt to purge themselves of sin, the Cult often participated in rituals to magically transfer their sins from their souls and transplant it inside an object. In so doing, they created artifacts of great power capable of tapping into ancient ley lines - and each was fully capable of corrupting anyone who touched it. The one he held now was a sin gem that held the essence of greed.

Its last recorded use was when an alchemist used a greed gem in an attempt to ravage the UK's economy at some point in the 19th century. Something about transmuting cheap metals into gold in massive amounts. But such mild disruption paled by comparison to the chaos the gems had caused in the past. The lust gem was sought after by foolish lovers who wanted a so-called magical 'love charm', and had led to many cases of political infighting. The wrath gem was sought after by warriors on account of the power it gave, only to frustrate them to the point of unruly conflict. And the envy gem… that gemstone alone was the one that caused the most trouble, always ending up in the hands of magic users of all sorts only to end up tainting them with feelings of discontentment and bitter desires.

There was a reason he had to intervene and end their practice. However well-intentioned they were, they created something mankind simply wasn't ready for. He destroyed all the gems he could, but several were already put into circulation. Unfortunately, the damnable things had a tendency to hide for several decades, fading or storing themselves in the very ley lines they were able to tap into.

But regardless of their origin, their creation at the hands of the ancient cult meant that they could be used as a scrying tool in addition to harvesting the great power necessary to enable the opening of an interdimensional gateway. This would be especially true if, as he highly suspected, the very monks who created the gems were still alive.

"Hear me, paths of endless fathoms, for I intend to seek the land where others have fled. Behind the veil. Through the endless wyrd and boundless skies, I tug at the threads of the realm and ask that you bid me entry. For I am Dr. Fate, and I intend on seeking Order."

As if bade by ancient law, the sky was split open with a great white light. It was still in the shape of his ankh, but instead of imposing itself on the air like a glorified seal, the light of Azarath's passage pierced this plane of existence like a steady stream. As if to emphasize its different approach, the appearance of reality wafted around the ankh's edges, as if it was nothing more than a cut cloth or a drifting mirage. Like reality was nothing more an illusion to be cast away.

It did not match his own sterner approach to magic, but it would serve its purpose. With a quick stride, he entered the rift, the altered ankh gently closing behind him inaudibly like a faded memory. Then he was met with the crisp air of aethereal nothingness, with magical currents soaring around him like a great storm.

But his spell worked. Before him lied the great seal of Azarath, bathing him in its wisteria glow. With the seal before him pushing at his form with a definite firmness, Dr. Fate was again reminded of how much this former cult had grown in terms of knowing the arcane.

"I am Dr. Fate. I have come to you from Earth so that I may ask you some questions. I have reason to believe that a great disturbance to the cosmos has likely originated from this location. So, I ask that you give me counsel."

In response the seal dimmed slightly, apparently knowing or at least acknowledging that he did not come as a threat. But aside from that minute detail, the seal still thrummed with defensive energy.

The Lord of Order waited, intently staring at the glimmering seal. He had a feeling they would not keep him waiting long. Regardless of how the cult had aged, they were doubtlessly aware of his existence and the power he wielded. They should know that he was fully capable of breaking past this seal if he really wished to.

What appeared to be smoke erupted from the seal, seeping from its vibrant lines like an emergent cloud. Coalescing into the form of a grey-hooded figure, Dr. Fate felt his shoulders straighten as he addressed the flickering image of the monk. "I greet you, monk of Azarath. Introduce yourself so that I may know to whom I am speaking."

The faded image gained more detail, allowing him to see that this monk was an old man, his face complete with a defined set of wrinkles and a trim grey beard. "My name is Coman, High Magistrate of Azarath."

The faded image peered at the eyes hidden behind Dr. Fate's helmet, his serene face taking a slight frown. "I see you still have a bad habit of stealing bodies from those who still yearn for life." he noted.

The sorcerer didn't even blink. "He knew of the price. As well as why I need to maintain constant vigilance."

The monk sighed in resignation. "But it was a price you coerced him into. Why else does he resound with sorrow and weariness?"

The stare of Dr. Fate hardened. "Enough, Coman. I am well aware for how much you disparage my means of acquiring hosts. But that is not why I am here." He let his stare linger on the monk, making sure to punctuate his next sentence. "You will tell me what has left your dimension."

The old man raised an eyebrow. "Your veiled threats are not any more impressive now than they were back then, Lord of Order. But I must ask, why are you so intent on learning about this… disruption?"

The eyes of Zatara glowed white and his voice boomed. "Do not play dumb! Whatever left this place sent waves of disruption through several planes of existence! It was felt through several dozen, if not hundreds of dimensions! Never mind how it rattled the current balance of Order that has predominantly reigned throughout the cosmos!"

The form of the golden-clad sorcerer hovered menacingly, an angry ball of magic forming in his hands like purging suns. But the face of the monk did not change. It was one of the things he both disliked and admired about the ancient cultists: Their ability to truly not have any fear at the concept of pain, suffering, or even death. If they were to meet what they considered their end, they would not raise any resistance. For raising resistance meant causing harm — something to which they were diametrically opposed.

Which meant this display of power would accomplish nothing.

The Lord of Order found himself recomposing his stature, attempting to arrange himself so that he could once again speak to the monk in a manner befitting of diplomacy. "Surely you must know that this is no trivial matter. Otherwise, I wouldn't even be here."

This gained a nod from the aged man. "Indeed. In fact, your arrival was foreseen the moment the Gem left."

Dr. Fate tilted his head, a mixture of anger and even bewilderment entering his tone. "A Gem!? Is this what caused all of this disruption?" He clenched his fists in equal amounts of frustration and righteous fury. "I thought you all learned a lesson the last time you began creating those insufferable artifacts. At best they were a foolish attempt at spiritual purity, but such concentrated fragments of mortal sin can only bring about suffering when left in the hands of mortals! And you dared to create one that was massively more potent?!"

The old man raised his hands in a placating gesture. "You misunderstand, I am not referring to a sin gem. Such things have not been made on Azarath for ages now. But the… how shall I call it? Manifestation? A conglomeration of concepts? She is more than just a gem, at any rate. Much more."

"She?" Fate intoned. "So, this thing has a consciousness?"

After a slight pause, Dr. Fate gave a slight exhale but made a point to give Conan a pointed glare. "Did Azarath create this gem?"

"No." he replied. "Her conception started on Earth. We merely intervened and ensured that she finished her formation on Azarath. So that she may exist, and live, and hopefully cause no harm. We had hoped —and attempted to ensure — that she would remain here." His mouth almost turned into a wry smile. "But it seemed fate had other plans."

"I would be careful of that assessment, mortal." Dr. Fate said. He gave the man a once over with his extrasensory sight, attempting to find any signs of deception. He found none. It wasn't like them to lie, but then again, he was sure they would do anything to preserve anything considered "life".

"How do I know that you are not lying to me?"

The monk gave him a solemn look. "Because we know how far you would go to maintain 'Order'. You may be open to reason most of the time. But we know that if you feel the balance between order and chaos is drastically threatened, you would resort to anything to ensure that threat does not come to fruition. If we were indeed harboring that threat, there is no doubt in my mind that you would break into Azarath with a vengeance. Even torture would not be beyond you, even though you would not take joy in it. And as much as I have faith in my years of training and in Azar's power…"

He rubbed his neck nervously, the action clearly signaling the monk's first emotional response since this conversation began. "I don't think anyone would hold out for long. We couldn't even attempt banishing you—the potential for harming your host would be too great. Not that it would work against you anyway."

His response hung in the air, the steely stare of the Lord of Order barring down on the monk as if contemplating his preeminent judgment.

But at last, the condemning voice of Nabu rang out. But not in a way that spoke of his doom. "If you knew it would grow into something this powerful, it should have been destroyed." he condemned. On the one hand, he wanted to thank them for intervening. Who knew how much chaos would have been sown if they hadn't? On the other hand… "Although knowing what I do about your beliefs, I suppose such things were beyond your capabilities. As always, your cult's well-meaning intentions bely your unintentional follies. But such is the way of mortals."

He gave a glance at the powerful seal behind the vaporous figure, its powerful glow signifying the far-reaching heights the Azarathian people reached. "But I have seen worse follies. Mankind often has a hand in the creation of its own destruction. I suppose it is just fortunate that this time it attracted the attention of a society of pacifists instead of some power-hungry madman." He turned his steely eyes toward Coman. "Know this, I will respect what was undoubtedly Azar's intentions. But I am displeased with how Azarath harbored this great threat."

Realizing that he intended no harm, the monk regained his serene composure. "She may not become a threat at all. The Gem was handled in such a way that her threat was negated as much as possible. However…" He gave small sigh. "Her potential threat was well-known by us."

The man reached into the folds of his cloak and brought out a blood-red jewel about the size of his palm.

Dr. Fate recognized the item instantly. "A Ramat stone?"

"Yes. As I am sure you know, these items are exceptionally useful talismans since they are capable of storing a being's essence. This one—" He raised the stone. "- is filled with the essence of the very Gem you are so interested in."

He fiddled with the gemstone, the large ruby being rolled around his wrinkled hand. "Azar instructed me to give this to you. But be advised, the essence contained within this stone is… fragile. That is to say, it's a bit outdated. It was created years ago when the Gem was first expressing her power." He tilted his face slightly, as if in deep thought. "I suspect it can only be used once. Whether it is used to track the Gem, seal her away, or some other purpose; will be up to the wielder."

With this the man extended his hand toward the Lord of Order, the opalescent jewel shimmering in the ethereal light. The notion of this being a peace offering was not lost as he accepted the stone, not even bothering to utter another word as he turned his back on the monk's fading illusory image.

Within barely a minute, Dr. Fate once again found himself in his tower, surrounded by nothing but an endless expanse of cosmic patterns. With the stone feeling placid in his hands, the Lord of Order found himself taking a breath as he took a moment to ease himself.

His host had been incessantly worried. Both about what they would learn and how Nabu would have extracted that information. But mostly he was worried about his daughter. Her damaged state when she attempted to scry for the Gem did not escape their notice. That she was able to find or experience anything at all was an incredible feat all on its own, but what they were dealing with…. well, it was beyond the comprehension of most magi. What traveled to Earth that day made ripples throughout the cosmos, and Dr. Fate — as intrinsically tied to the concept of Order as he was - knew a major potential disruption when he felt one.

Zatanna could have easily forfeited her mind to arcanist's derangement* if she wasn't careful (or lucky).

It was precisely for that reason that Dr. Fate chose this date to approach Azarath. Zatanna would be in Bialya for the greater portion of the day, and the scarab cleansing ritual would give him ample excuse to not have her travel with him.

Author's Notes:

Dr. Light is man who probably needs no introduction since he appeared on the Teen Titans TV show and in several comics. Just know that some of his origins have him begin as an ARGUS scientists and I used that for inspiration.

Raven losing control of her soul-self when hit a supersonic frequency has occurred in the comics once before with Cyborg. How effective it will be against her in this story though, remains to be seen.

The "gold-flecked" gem is a reference to the DCUO item that is part of the Azarathian Sin Gem collection (the greed gem, specifically). I have mostly stuck with that game's lore description of the items but there are changes. However, comic readers may realize that the Azarathian practice of expunging sins from their bodies is actually a callback to Trigon's original origin where he was the product of the Azarathian people's banished evil that they expunged from their own souls.

Arcanist's derangement is completely made up term. But it is used to describe that phenomena when a person loses their mind when they come upon 'forbidden knowledge'. Knowledge or an experience so potent and/or all-encompassing that simply learning it can drive a person to insanity. It's a fairly common magic trope.