The cold mountain air bit at his skin, and the Scholar pulled his cloak tighter. His breath misted his glasses as he walked, forcing him to step carefully up the narrow path. He crested a ridge and wiped the lenses clean to look down at his destination — the Aeshi village.
The Aeshi lived quite modestly, high up in the Helvonien Mountains. For almost two centuries, this clan isolated themselves from the Asrean Empire, away from civilization. The small village consisted mainly of wooden huts and dirt roads, with one unique structure — a stone temple nestled under an overhang in the cliffside. With only a couple hundred buildings, the entirety of the village was visible from the ridge, and the Scholar noticed that no walls nor fences lined its perimeter. That made sense, the Aeshi were a peaceful people, and bandits wouldn’t travel this far, to a place with nothing of worth.
Well . . . almost nothing.
The Scholar continued carefully down the trail to the outer rim of the village. Children burst through the door of a nearby house and their laughter stopped once they saw him. He looked into their wide eyes, wondering if he was the first outsider they had ever seen. A young woman followed them out of the doorway and hesitated as well when she noticed him.
“Run along kids,” she whispered, keeping her eyes on the Scholar. “You should leave here.”
He raised his hands. “It’s all right. I’m simply a scholar, and I’ve been writing to your village elder. Is he around?”
The woman gestured towards a well farther into town where an older man stood hunched over, working a crank.
“That’s him?”
The woman nodded, then hurried after her children.
Such a pretty face, full of youth . . . This will be hard, but the decision has been made. Eternal unity was possible, but it would come at a price.
He continued farther towards the well. As he approached, the elder finished pulling up a bucket and handed it to a nearby girl.
“Go run that to your father please.” He patted her head to send her on her way, then looked up at the Scholar.
“You must be Elder Rennick?”
The man smiled. “And you must be that curious scholar. I hope the journey wasn’t too difficult?”
“I’ve traveled worse.”
“Good, well you’re late as is, and I’m sure the priest is eager to get the ritual over with.” The elder gave him a look over. “But first, let’s step inside. The acolytes don’t like outsiders and won’t allow any weapons or Airacite onto the holy ground.”
Following the man into a nearby hut, the Scholar placed his pack in a wardrobe. He untied the small knife from his belt and pulled out a piece of Airacite, setting it on the shelf in the cabinet. Rennick glared at the ruby gemstone with distaste.
The Aeshi people rejected the use of Airacite. In truth, its creation marked the beginning of their isolation. The Scholar knew this from his research but seeing the elder’s eyes fill with a burning rage set him on edge.
“My apologies for even bringing it into town.” the Scholar said.
Rennick locked the wardrobe. “Just as long as it remains hidden away in here. Don’t need anyone finding out about it.”
Good, he doesn’t suspect the others I have tied around my leg.
Rennick guided him back out into the village and walked towards the shrine.
The Scholar fell into step with the elder and felt the eyes of the villagers watching safely from within their huts. Looking around, it was clear how primitive these people truly were. It was known the Aeshi didn’t use Airacite, but it looked like they’d abandoned the use of Airiya altogether. The structures were crafted using the ancient techniques — no evidence of casting in sight.
What a perfect place to hide it . . .
They approached the shrine and ascended the steps to a covered entrance. Two acolytes stood on either side of the entry dressed in layers of furs and leaning on long spears. Upon seeing the Scholar, they straightened, but Rennick waved them aside.
“He’s with me, as a witness to the sacrifice.”
They scowled at the Scholar but let them enter the shrine.
The temple’s construction made the Scholar pause. For an outpost that didn’t utilize Airiya, this temple was built with unusually high craftsmanship. The number of intricate carvings in the stone cornice would have taken years, along with the skills of a world class mason. Could these same villagers construct something like this? No. It’s more likely they discovered this place after their fall and built the village around it.
Rennick gestured for the Scholar to continue deeper into the shrine. They passed another pair of armed acolytes and walked into the main sanctuary. The space was double height, and an upper window on the wall behind them cast a harsh shadow onto the stone floor. Dust flickered as it floated through the beam of light.
A large marble altar sat upon a stone plinth at the far end of the sanctuary. Crude grooves were carved into the altar’s top, and matching trenches in the plinth floor outlined the altar. All the grooves conjoined into a singular trough that led toward a basin in front of the plinth. From the harshness of the cuts, they appeared to be an addition to the original design.
Ten acolytes entered the space from side rooms, all wielding spears, eyeing the Scholar like he was a viper in the brush. The threatening tone was a stark contrast to the quaint mountain village outside.
The Scholar heard a clattering of hooves on stone behind him and turned to see two more acolytes pulling a pure white deer by a lead. A taller man followed behind. The man wore long robes with a gold chain across his chest and carried a bundle of rope.
The priest.
The acolytes guided the deer up to the plinth and the priest threw the bundle of rope on the altar. As he did, the Scholar saw it.
A curved dagger entirely carved from amethyst hung from the priest’s belt. A crude leather strap wrapped around the hilt of the blade, and the sunlight glinted off its numerous surfaces.
The acolytes grappled the deer, and the priest began to tie up the animal; first, by its legs, then down to the altar itself. The Scholar steeled himself as he watched the creature struggle desperately against the men.
Once the final knots were tied, the priest walked behind the altar and raised the dagger up into the air. As the blade moved, the Scholar thought he saw a deeper movement within the gemstone. Shades of violet seemed to swirl in a depth far greater than any normal crystal.
“O Ancient Lord. Defender of the Aeshi. Ruler of the Mountains. Please accept this offering for your continual protection and blessings amongst your ever-faithful people. For through the life of this creature, prosperity will fall upon the Aeshi. Praise be to Marda.”
“Praise be to Marda,” the acolytes repeated in unison.
The Scholar watched the dagger plunge down into the creature’s heart. With a cry, the deer spasmed briefly; then fell still. The priest pulled the dagger out, and crimson blood spilled out around the wound, staining the pure white fur. The animal’s lifeblood drained into the trenches carved into the table and flowed down through the slots into the stone basin. Slowly, the bowl filled with the red liquid.
The priest wiped the dagger clean with a cloth, then tucked it back into his belt, setting the cloth over the deer’s head. Again, the Scholar thought he saw something unnatural within the crystal as the priest walked in front of the basin.
Lifting the bowl from the mold in the floor, the priest carried it over to the acolytes. The nearest man dropped to one knee and looked up at the priest. The priest dipped two fingers into the bowl and spread a line of blood over the acolyte’s forehead.
“May the lord’s protection bless you.”
“Praise be to Marda.”
The priest moved on to each acolyte until finally reaching Rennick. After blessing the village elder, the priest offered the basin to the nearest acolyte.
“Go, bless our people.”
With a curt nod, the man stepped out of the shrine, careful not to spill a drop of the sacrificial blood. The priest walked back up to the altar and began to wipe his hands with the cloth.
“Outsider . . . I know why you’ve come.”
The Scholar looked up from the dagger to meet the priest’s eyes.
“For generations, members of my family have served as prophets for the Aeshi. When I was yet a boy, my father passed down the wisdom and knowledge of our people, just as his father did for him. I am the mediator between the Great Lord and the Aeshi, but . . . I am also the protector of our legacy.”
The acolytes blocked the exits of the sanctuary, encircling the Scholar. Even Rennick stepped away, hiding behind the acolytes to join the priest near the altar.
“I had my suspicions, but Rennick believed you were purely a historian. A simple man with an interest in our clan. But, from the moment I walked into this room, your eyes haven’t looked at anything else. Our ritual doesn’t interest you. No, you came here seeking this.”
The priest pulled out the dagger.
“This has been handed down for centuries by our people. Longer than even the Aeshi’s reign over Asrea. I don’t know how you’ve come to learn of our relic, but as the priest of Marda and a member of the Aeshi clan, I’m afraid I can no longer allow you to leave.”
The acolytes lowered their weapons, and the Scholar faced eleven spear tips.
I am sorry academia. Today, we lose a part of history . . .
He reached down at the Airacite strapped to his leg and bonded the stored yellow, indigo, and white hues. His skin exploded with light, and he reached his fingers out towards the acolytes on either side of him.
Expending his entire reserve of yellow, he connected himself with eight of the eleven men. Instantly, pure energy arced from his fingertips to the spearmen crackling like lightning. The men twitched harshly as they fell to the floor; the smell of burnt flesh filling the air.
The other three men thrust their spears, but the Scholar had already begun his second casting, sending a wave of solidified air out from his body. The blast knocked the acolytes onto their backs, but they scrambled to their feet.
Using the indigo Airiya, the Scholar took control of the remaining blood dripping off the altar. He split the liquid into slender darts and launched them at the acolytes. They didn’t have time to scream before the liquid plunged through their eyes and into their skull.
He heard footsteps from behind and spun to see the priest charging with the dagger held high. The Scholar raised his hands and launched another blast of air sending the tall man flying back, slamming into the far wall with a sickening crunch.
Looking around at the sudden carnage, Rennick began to panic. The elder rushed over to the priest’s body and tried to shake the man awake. With a whimper, the frail man picked up the dagger and scurried in front of the altar, dagger pointed at the Scholar.
“What have you done?” the man’s voice wavered. “For years we have lived in peace . . . why now? Why us?”
The Scholar walked slowly up to the village elder. With the remaining Airiya, he solidified the air around the man’s arms and legs and pinned them to the table, causing him to drop the dagger. As the old man struggled to free himself, the Scholar picked up the weapon. He looked around at the corpses littering the shrine.
“I don’t cherish this . . . these actions threaten to rip apart my very soul, but as you are aware, sometimes life needs to be sacrificed for the prosperity of all.”
He pressed the point of the dagger into the old man’s chest and forced himself to watch as the life from the elder’s eyes faded. He chose this path. He needed to acknowledge the weight of his actions. Rennick fell limp, and the Scholar released his castings allowing the body to slide to the floor. A streak of scarlet blood smeared across the back of the deer.
His stomach lurched, but the Scholar collected himself. It’s the price that needed to be paid. But was the relic worth it? Holding the dagger, it didn’t feel special, but when he stared into the gemstone it was like looking into eternity itself.
Just like the Crystal in Farhal . . .
Since the dawn of Airacite, many have tried to bond the Crystal itself, but each time, the immense power burned out their souls instantly. Would this be the same? If I die now, I suppose it’ll only be justice for this crime. He placed one hand on the blade and forged a link.
A torrent of power filled his soul. Hundreds of times more than could ever be stored in Airacite. This amount of Airiya . . . it frightened him. To think this existed for centuries amongst these people.
He never doubted his theories, but actually holding this power in his hands; well, it was truly remarkable. Just wait until you see this Brevis. With this, we can reshape all of Thera.
But there was something else hidden beyond the sea of power. A presence? Emotions surged into the Scholar’s mind: anger, loneliness, annoyance, and . . . curiosity.
“WHO MIGHT YOU BE?”