Chapter 8

Casters are those that can wield myst to cast spells, but not all casters are Mages. A large majority of casters are known as Sparks or Embers. These are those that can only cast spells with a single element. Embers are more powerful than Sparks. Embers are capable of holding their own in combat with spells. While Sparks are only able to perform small acts of magic. Mages are capable of combining several elements into complex spells. More common than Mages, but less so than Sparks or Embers are Dyads. Dyads are casters that can use two sides of a Duality, such as Life and Death, or Chaos and Fate.

I was alone in the Ceremonial Forge Hall. As I left alone through the freight elevator, I checked my clock on my therra to find the time to be 10:30. Two and a half hours past curfew. As stated by the rules for me set down by Thallos last year, if I was out past curfew, I would not be given a pass and must use my skills to get back to my room. But I wasn’t going to my room.

I slipped from the dark auditorium into the shadowed halls beyond. Thanks to my Darkling heritage, I could see just fine in the dark. This was one of the few blessings from what I was, and I used it to the fullest. As I made my way from one hall to the next, I kept my ears sharp for even the slightest sound. I had to stop and backtrack twice when I heard footsteps and saw the light of patrolling guards.

I finally made it out of Aegis Hall and checked my surroundings. The night outside was deep. Thunder rolled overhead. Rain started to patter down even as I scanned the area. The woods at the perimeter of the crater were lit with a dim blue glow from the leaves of some of the trees. I slipped along the side of Aegis Hall while I kept an eye out for patrolling guards. Sure enough, I counted eighteen guards, all with flashlights. Some traveled in pairs, while others moved alone. I waited for an opening, and when I spotted my chance, I sprinted to the wall of the Foundry.

As the rain came down harder, I skirted the wall, eyes peeled for any movement. I was soaked to the bone, but I didn’t care. I was still on edge from the day of ceremonies and an unnerving amount of bleeding in the name of the Nameless Goddess. (No pun intended).

Something shifted out of the corner of my eye, and I snapped my head over to find a deer wandering toward me. The buck looked young and strong with sharp antlers and a black fur coat. It stepped from the woods to approach me. I watched it in nervous curiosity. Unphased by the rain, the deer got within twenty feet of me, clearly staring in my direction.

A light flashed across the ground near me, and I snapped my head toward it to find a pair of guards approaching, both with umbrellas in hand. Suddenly, a whistle was blown to my left. I snapped my head back that way to find a student standing where the deer had been. I vehemently cursed under my breath as I skirted back around the Foundry wall in the direction I had come, moving to break line-of-sight with anyone who might see me.

I heard the sound of pounding feet through wet grass, and I broke from the wall to sprint into the woods. I passed through the treeline and moved deeper, shifting my trajectory every few seconds to make it harder for the guards to track me. I glimpsed movement above me. I looked over my shoulder to find a bird, an owl, following me. It was then that everything made sense. The deer from before and the owl now were the same person. A Druid.

While running, I popped off the cartridge of shock bites I had installed at the moment, pocketed it, and slapped in a new one. This one was armed with darts with a knockout poison. I slipped around behind the trunk of a fat oak to break his line-of-sight and tried to slow my breathing.

Just as I had hoped, the owl landed above me in the tree. Its body blurred and distended to shift into a person. While he was mid-transition, I spun around, stepped back, and lined up my target. I launched a single dart that landed in the center of the Druid’s body mass, and the shape fell from the tree. He was actually a she. The Druid was a female Moon Elf. I plucked the dart from the meat of her left breast with a wince.

Me and my luck with breasts. As a young male, I had a strong fascination with the female form. But thus far, I had unwillingly groped Rose’s chest twice, and once involved me burning a handprint through her shirt and fur. I had also had Nel ask me for a pair of her own breasts. Now, I just shot an innocent girl in the breast with a drugged dart. I was starting to wonder if I had been cursed. The boob curse, I mused in annoyance even as I circled around through the woods to reach the dorms.

From the treeline, I checked the front of the dorms to find what I expected. A pair of armed student guards were at the front door. A pair of Dracose, one Dezzar breed, and the other was a Damra breed. Both were large breeds of a large species and could snap me like a dry twig if one of them got a hold of me. And they were both armed. The warrior breed Dezzar was armed with a large maul. The metal hammer appeared to be integrated with myst circuits, meaning that it had some kind of elemental effect. The labor worker breed Damra was armed with a cutlass at his hip, sized to fit him, and an elemental Lance rifle, also built to his size.

So, the front door was out of the question. That meant Plan B. Keeping to the treeline, I circled the dorms until I reached the back of the building. The floor layout of the dorms was the same on each floor. Rooms lined the perimeter of the building, with four halls lined with additional rooms meeting in the center where the stairs and elevator were set. The rooms along the perimeter of the building had actual windows, while those set deeper inside had holographic walls that displayed the outside. Nennel had a perimeter room. Ferris, Nel, and I shared our room numbers the day before so we could find each other. Her room number was 674, and I remembered her being quite happy with having an actual window because she claimed she needed fresh air after a hard day.

I double-checked the floor layout on my therra, then counted the rooms until I found her window. After I found her room, I crept up to the wall and prepped the grappling hook on Venna. The device was a design I pulled together last year and had in nearly every version of my tactical gauntlet from MK 2 moving forward. Every part of the hook was a custom design of my own devising. A six-limbed, multi-jointed apparatus that looked not unlike a squid, with rows of pressurized deployable anchor spikes on each limb. These spikes released on contact with any surface to imbed in stone or punch through metal. With this newest incarnation of my squid hook, as I affectionately called it, the spikes could be released from the inner or outer surface. I designed the limbs to stretch out upon launch and clench once it made contact with a surface, but this incarnation, if the inner surface of the limbs didn’t touch a surface, they would bend backward into a more standard hook shape and deploy the spikes once the limbs reached the outer limit of their flexibility.

I was quite proud of the design, but enough of my gushing.

I launched the hook at the top edge of the wall, directly above Nel’s window. The squid hook attached with a firm grip that I tested with a few hard tugs before I began climbing. As I climbed, I retracted the mythril fiber cable bit by bit to reduce slack. My footing up the wet wall was slick, and tested my balance with every step. Once I reached her metal shuttered window, I tapped on it with a boot heel. When no response came, I tapped a bit harder. Soon enough, I was stomping against the shutter.

The window flew open in a fraction of a second, and the next thing I knew, there was a dagger blade pointed at the sole of my boot as I began to thrust another stomp. I stopped my thrusting boot only a fraction of an inch before impaling it on the blade. I reseated my boot against the wall and leaned my head down to look in the window. Framed there in the opening was a very ticked-off-looking Nel. She wore a heated glare and nothing else, her metal body on full display and with both a dagger and a pistol at the ready.

“Hey there, sis. Sorry I’m late. That last rite took a lot longer than planned. Can I come in?”

She glared up at me for a moment longer before dropping her guard and stepping away from the window without a single word. I hopped through the opening and retracted my hook before shaking myself off like a wet dog. Nennel flopped down on her bed, weapons in hand, as she crossed her legs. “Do you have any idea how late you are, moron?”

I stretched my shoulder and back as I answered, “Yeah. Sorry about that. The Burning Hand Rite involved forging a tool of my choice from a metal of my choice. I went a bit overboard. Did I wake you?”

She gave a weighty sigh before her shoulders fell. “No. I couldn’t sleep. What I wanted to talk with you about kept me up.”

I looked around her room as I strolled over to the seat at her workbench. Her room was a mess. Casual clothes were strewn across the floor in wads and heaps, while her uniforms were in pristine order and on display in her open locker. Her crafting bench was littered with tools and components for her body’s upkeep. Books could be found on any surface in a range of states, from tattered to fresh. But what really got me was the stack of stuffed animals on Nennel's bed.

I flopped into the seat, pressed my knuckles together, pulled them to my chest, and pushed my elbows and shoulder forward in another stretch. That was what I got for not warming up before physically exerting myself. Stiff joints and pulled muscles. “That’s why I’m here, Nel. What’s got you bothered?”

She cocked her head to the side as she pinned me with a stare that exuded just how tired and troubled she was. “It’s Tessa.”

At the name, my stomach dropped out. Tessa was a Gnomish girl that I had befriended last year. She was a healer who had been a critical part of my training under Thallos. The bastard of an uncle trained me with a method I called Stab Training. Every time I messed up, gave a wrong answer, or showed an opening while sparing, he severely injured me. I had been stabbed, slashed, crushed, shot, burned, shocked, poisoned, and nearly any other way someone could suffer. I was put through it, and it was Tessa who patched me up. But at the end of last year, when Thallos showed his true colors and went totally schizo, she was severely wounded. He severed her lower spine, and Gnomes can’t be healed by magic because they originated from another realm. They also can’t use cybernetics because of their biology.

Tessa was permanently paralyzed from the waist down because she tried to help me. It was my fault that her life was ruined. She was wheelchair-bound, and she had to blame me for it. “W-what about her?” I stammered.

Nel gave me a deadpan look as she said, “She’s asking about you, nitwit.”

“I-I don’t think I can face her.” I stuttered.

“What in the nine Hells are you talking about, Ives’? You need to talk to her. She deserves to see you.” Nennel scolded.

“I’m sorry, Nel, but I can’t.” I turned my face away from Nennel in shame. “I can’t face her after what happened.”

She pinned me with a glare of judgment. “Dude, grow a spine. Own up to the damage and talk to the girl.”

I opened my mouth for a reply I didn’t have when I received an incoming call. My focus shifted to the call, and Nennel noticed, raising a brow at me that said, ‘don’t you dare pick up.’ When I saw who was calling, I knew I had no choice but to pick up, and I thanked the Nameless Goddess for the stroke of luck.

“Sorry, Nel, it's Mystagogue Navor.” Without waiting for her response, I pressed the answer icon on my HUD. “Yes, Master?”

“Get your ass to Aegis Hall, Maverick. Your actual indoctrination rite begins in fifteen minutes.” The lady was gruff, brusk, and to the point.

“But, ma’am. What about the patrols?”

“Don’t give me that, kid. I know you were at the Burning Hand rite, past curfew, and I know you stopped in to talk to your metal girlfriend.”

“I-it’s not like that!” I defended. “She’s like a sister. There’s no way I could date Nennel.” I glanced over at the metal girl in question to see her glaring at me with accusation, and I knew I misspoke. I gulped in fear of the aftermath of what I had just said, but was brought back to the call when Navor scolded me.

“Use that training of yours and get here, NOW. I’ve prepped your B.I.C with clearance for subfloor one fifty.” My eyes bulged at the number in disbelief. The Academy went down that far? “Now, you have five minutes to get here before I start planning out your punishment. So chop chop.” Without another word, she hung up the call, and I started to panic.

I lept from my seat and moved to the window in three quick strides. I stopped, one foot on the sill to turn back to Nennel. “Sorry, sis, but she’s put me on a five-minute clock to get to Aegis Halls. We can talk about Tessa later. But… please. Let me have some time to build up the courage to talk to her.” Without waiting for a response, I stepped through the window.

I turned mid-air and latched my hook to the wall beside Nennel’s window and repelled only barely slower than falling speed. I hurried back into the woods at the perimeter of the crater and circled back around to get as close to Aegis Hall as I could. As I passed through the woods, I made sure to leave no trace and made not a single noise. I trusted none of the fauna I spied in the woods, now that I knew Druids were patrolling.

As luck would have it, my getting noticed earlier in the night made my job getting back into the main building that much easier. I was spotted heading back to the dorms, and the majority of the patrols were focused around there. The initial reentry into the woods was difficult because I had to avoid no less than five groups of searching guards and two of those groups were scouring the woods. To avoid capture, I traveled from treetop to treetop, careful not to rustle any leaves.

By the time I made it back to the front doors of Aegis Hall, four minutes had passed, and I booked it through the halls. I only stopped once, slipping into a classroom to avoid yet another patrol. I hid under the instructor’s desk just in case, and it paid off when I heard the door open and saw the passing circle of light across the walls. After I heard the door shut, I waited for a ten count before leaving the room, closing the door as quietly as I could manage without losing too much time.

The moment the searching figure turned the corner at the end of the hall, I booked it to the hidden elevators at the center of the building. I barely even came to a stop in front of the hidden doors before I swiped my B.I.C over the obscured scanner. As I waited for the car to come, I paced back and forth at a manic pace.

While yes, I was in a hurry because I wanted to avoid punishment, but I also wanted to make a good impression with my new training Master. I had only met her twice before, and one of those times was pulling my ass from the Hellfire of Thallos trying to cripple and capture me. I knew for a fact that I was going to be following her on a training mission into the nation’s hive-city capital, and I wanted to prove to the woman that I could be depended on to get the job done and follow orders. While thinking about the training mission, I made a mental note to check in with Nel and Ferris to make sure that they were okay with joining me. I’d also need to be careful to keep my sect hidden if there were other students beyond those two joining me.

After what felt like an age, the doors to the elevator slid open, and I hopped inside before they even finished opening. I was thirty seconds behind schedule and trying not to panic. I would just have to tell Navor that I was at the elevator within the designated time window and hope that she believed me.

As always, the elevator car dropped at stomach-lifting speed. I could hear the floors pass by at a whizzing pace so fast I couldn’t keep count. As I dropped through the floors, I watched my clock with painful intensity. By the time the car slowed to a halt, four minutes had passed. The moment the doors were wide enough for me to squeeze through like a Slime through a crack in a door.

I stepped into a natural cavern of a room that, while large, was not nearly as large as the past three rooms I had taken rites in. The space was circular, with a floor formed from perfectly shaped bricks of purple jade, each precisely fitted square marked with natural starbursts of white and gray, and even a few threads of white and gray that reminded me of my own skin. The circular wall of the room was marked with thirteen large braziers lit with dancing purple and white flames. Between each brazier was a throne, each crafted from a single piece of a different, rare magical stone. Just from a glance, I noticed Grave Stone, Scaiben Crystal, Starlight Quartz, Baddrum, and Mirrorloom Coesite. Each throne was carved in a distinct style. Just a few of the themes I noticed at a glance were styles based around life, death, hope, despair, love, and hate. I assumed that there must be some form of symmetry to the themes, but what really caught my eye was at the center of the room.

A statue of glass stood at the epicenter of the room, standing nine feet tall. The figure was that of a nude woman with a tattered cloak framing her face and running down her back. Her face was half beautiful maiden with an eye of Luminite, half skull with a maw of needle-point fangs, and an orb of Umbranite nestled in the eye socket. In her left hand was a skull with a dagger lanced through the crown. Her right hand was reaching out and down as if accepting something from someone much smaller than her. But most shocking of all was her chest. Half was bare ribs, while the other was a just-as-bare breast, but between the two was a cavity. Held within the cavity was a heart that pulsed like an actual organ, but I could tell it was formed from Ikor Crystal because of my recent experience with the substance. The organ throbbed with an inner light that brightened and dimmed in time with its pulsating. Reaching out from that living core were veins of the same crystal that laced through the whole of the statue.

In the room, sitting at each of the thrones were obvious masters, most of whom I did not recognize. Every single adult in the room was scarred, and displayed some form of cybernetics, and every single one radiated danger. That is, all save for two figures.

One was the Mysteriarch, who stood at the foot of the statue with a kind and patient smile. The other was Master Navor, who lounged in a throne of Starlight Quartz carved to show powerful mythic monsters. Her left leg was draped over the arm of the throne. She had a pocket knife in her left hand that she used to trim the nails of her other hand. While everyone else in the room looked to be taking the event very seriously, she simply looked bored.

I looked to be the only student in the room at the time, and I found that surprising. When Navor noticed me, she waved me over with the knife in her hand. I nervously hurried over, feeling the eyes of everyone in the room pressing down on me. As I stepped up to her, she said in a lazy tone, “Nice job, kid. You got to the elevator with time to spare, and you didn’t get caught. Just as I hoped, you just showed every stuffy jackass in this room that my pupil is quick and skilled.” She gestured to everyone in a throne in the room with her knife in a single sweeping motion. “You just won me six gold. Remind me when we get to Grimvale, and I’ll get you something nice with a bit of those winnings.”

I fidgeted nervously as I eyed the room. “Thanks, Master. But, um, what am I supposed to do?”

“Simple. Stand next to me and look pretty till I say otherwise.”

I eyed her warily as I stepped up beside her and took an at-ease stance. One by one, students entered the room, each called over by one of the masters in the thrones, spoken to in hushed tones before taking up an at-ease stance beside their instructor. thirteen masters in total, each with only one student. Every single student in the room looked like an elite, ranging in age from sixteen, like me, to twenty. The adult students looked like they found everyone else in the room younger than them weak, and I hated the arrogance that radiated off of them. While I felt like the weakest student in the room, deep down, I knew that I had survived training that none of them could imagine.

A few minutes after the last student took their place, the Mysteriarch spoke to the room. “Each and every single student in the room will have the hardest life of any other at this academy. Your duty to uphold could be called monolithic. The training you will endure moving forward will be brutal and harsh. In the days to come, you will be forced to make choices where there is no good answer. You will take lives. Some of them will be innocent. You will be faced with impossible challenges and will have to weigh the lives of the many against the lives of the few. Your role in the Order must be kept a secret until you graduate. Once you are a full Order member, you can be open with what you do but do not expect any love or praise from your peers. What you do for the Aegis is dirty, bloody work that many will see as corrupt and heartless.” The Mysteriarch circled the statue, making eye contact with every one of the students as she continued to speak.

“As some of you may have been told, there is an act that some of you may need to perform every seven years. It is a terrible act that should not be revelled in, but it should be honored. Your Fragment has a heart that rots away over the course of seven years as she takes on the sins of the world and acts as a bulwark against many of the darker deities that seek to ruin our world. On that seventh year, seven of you students from across the academies will be sent to find her seven hearts. You will need to find the heart of an innocent with a just and uncorrupt sense of self and view of the world. They are someone who must have loved someone with all their heart and lost that loved one to tragedy. You will have to carve out their heart and offer it to Her Fragment of the Blighted Heart. This is a role that should be done with the deepest of solum honor, and you will have to live with what you have done till the day you die.” She stepped away from the statue at this point and walked up to the doors of the room before turning to face all of us.

“Today, you shall take on the Rite of The Beloved Lost. Each of you shall step up to the feet of the statue and kneel. Your Master will be given a knife, and they will tell you what to recite even as they carve a sigil into your flesh at a site of their choosing. Now let us begin.”

One by one, the students went up to take their position before the statue while their instructor was given a ceremonial dagger of a strange green crystal by the Mysteriarch. Each student stripped off an article of clothing and recited a chant through gritted teeth as they were carved. Some students were marked on their chest or back. Others were marked on their thigh or calf. One student was marked on the sole of her foot, which made me wince. I was the last to step up to the statue. All eyes were on me as I kneeled down before my Master. I looked at her and said, “I will carve myself.”

“Are you sure?” asked Navor.

I nodded in answer. “I’ve memorized the sigil, and I know the words. I need to prove to the others what I am worth.”

She eyed me for a long moment before handing me the dagger and stepping back. I performed the rite alone. I pressed the tip of the dagger into the heart of the statue until only the tip was marked with crystal scarlet. I stepped back and stripped off my shirt. At the sight of my scars, the entire room started muttering, but I tuned them out. I pressed the tip against the flesh over my heart and cut deep as I recited the chant. The blade was scolding hot, acting more like a brand than a simple knife. I drew line after line even as I spoke in a clear, and unhampered voice.

Because this is such a long vow, I’ll give you a line-by-line translation.

“Nemor sellona soll bloonra tu heru connus.” (I do swear my blood to her cause.) “Bennora bloonra nemor tavnar jounoss.” (By blood, I walk the just path.) “Nemor tavnar sollon twissen solleph.” (I walk alone beside myself.) “Nemor fennor rudnuss sellonm pukrad merrousious.” (I choose the path less traveled paved in bones.) “Nemor am teth wuroon impaithen nexurron.” (I am the tool for a better tomorrow.) “Twisson soll corren nemor proveth plentia ov solleph tu theen purroses.” (With my heart, I give all of myself to this cause.) “Bennora bloonra nemor fussun revoos ten corruppus insunnu ak insunnat.” (By blood, I push back the blight within and without. I trust in my duty.) “Nemor tethanna nat soll jusson.” (I shall live for the justice of others.) “Nemor vowen pathen fos bloonra twisson nu regos.” (I shall walk this path of blood with no doubts.) “Nemor am teth lunus umberoo.” (I am the light in the darkness.) “Nemor am teth umberra passun eyien.” (I am the shadow beyond sight.) “Nemor am teth sharrew tethu bloonek.” (I am the edge that bleeds.) “Nemor am teth umbra wardroonex.” (I am the Dark Hunter.)

My tail thrashed as blood streamed down my chest. The edges of each line of the fresh wound were blackened and smelled of burnt flesh. I stood and handed over the dagger to Mysteriarch with a false ease I didn’t feel inside. As I pulled my shirt and jacket back on, the sigil throbbed, beating like a second heart out of pace with my actual heart. I was faintly aware of an aura of power that radiated from the bloody design. The energy felt similar to my own myst, but just slightly different.

Even now, I can’t tell you the logic behind why I did what I did that night. By all rights, I could have been punished for not adhering to the rite. My actions could have been viewed as dishonoring my Master, the ceremony, and everyone in the room. But I felt like I had to prove to everyone in that room that I was not the weakest. There was no logic to my action. It was an impulse to display my mettle and show my worth through my scars and carving myself like a holiday turkey. I will admit I found deep satisfaction in the response the room gave at the sight of my scarred body.

With the ceremony finished, the room was filled with the murmur of low talk between the students and their masters. Navor watched everyone in the room with a quizzical eye. “You seem to have made an impression, kid.”

I watched the master before turning to see what she saw in the room. “What do you mean?”

“Listen closely.” was all she said in response. So I did as I was told and tried to pick out individual voices.

“What’s with that Darkling kid? Those scars… What happened to him?” asked a Wild Elf student to her Moon Elf master.

“That’s the boy that trained under Thallos, the traitor. If what the masters in this room were told is true, then the Darkling was literally tortured during his training. You should watch him and be careful. He might not be mentally stable.”

I raised an eyebrow at that statement before moving on to the next pair. A lithe Dekken Dracose master spoke to his Wolf breed Primal student. “Remember that Darkling boy. What he did today is a level of self-control and dedication you should strive for. Step up your game.”

That comment made me smirk in amusement and satisfaction. I listened in on three more pairs after that. Two masters told their disciples to keep a wary eye on me because I could be a threat to the Order. The last master instructed his student to watch my training as often as possible and work to beat me and, if possible, kill me. The student of this last master was a young adult Cougar Primal who looked like he wanted to eat me.

“None of these reactions were what I expected.” I confessed to Navor.

I turned back to her to find that she was picking her teeth with a dagger while looking at me with a question in her eyes. “And what did you expect?”

I nervously bit my lip before responding with a muttered, “I honestly didn’t know what to expect.”

She pulled air through her teeth as she inspected the tip of the blade in her hand before she looked at me with an aggravated expression. “That’s because you didn’t think before you did what you did. You were underestimated and easily looked over until you pulled that stunt. Now, you’re a Priority One threat, kid. Now every student in this room is gunning for you, either to be better than you, or to put you down like a Warg that wandered into town.”

I looked at the old iron war horse of a woman in shock, but before I could comment, she continued speaking. “And before you ask me why I didn’t stop you, this was the kind of lesson you had to learn yourself. If I had just told you not to make a scene, the magnitude of the repercussions wouldn’t have sunk in.”

I rocked back on my heels at the impact of her words.

“So, kid, what’s the first rule of the Sightless Eye?”

“To go unnoticed. Always appear as something you are not.” I recited numbly.

“Good. Now, will you make that mistake again?”

I muttered a sullen “No.”

“Good. This is the way I teach. I will give you pointers and straight info when you need it. But it’s up to you to think ahead and make the right calls. While I will step in to pull your ass outta the hellfire when things get hairy, don’t rely on it. I won’t be around all the time, let alone for your whole career after you graduate.”

I chewed some of the skin off the inside of my cheek while I rolled around what she said in my head. Navor seemed to know that’s what I was doing because she patiently waited for me to come to a conclusion. While I wasn’t going to be stabbed constantly day after day, I still needed to mentally prepare myself for the days to come. After a few moments of thinking things over, I looked Navor in the eye and asked, “So what comes next?”

The Master gave me an amused smirk as she said, “Invasive cybernetic integration.”