Ozymandias’ empire weakened, and those under its rule began to resist, began to push back. They began to look deeper, past the visible and into the law behind them, into the power that wrought existence itself. Alexander was the greatest of them, he who peered behind the veil, and grasped at the truth of reality. He who carried the blinding torch of knowledge. But the world was not ready for such knowledge. And neither was he.
The air was chilly, a light breeze sending the folds of Alexander’s white robes fluttering. The stars gleamed above, a smattering of faint lights in the eternal void.
Alexander took a deep breath, feeling the ever present weight press down on him, the mountain weighing him to the mortal earth.
Stop they whispered you are but a man. Reach not for the domain of gods.
He shivered, heaven’s whispers far more tyrannical than the frigid wind. His head turned from side to side as he looked around uncertainly, unsure of how to proceed.
He was so young, only the hints of muscle on his arms and chest marking what he would become.
And that glint in his eyes, that hard flint, that spark.
He reached out, with hands wrought of will and soul.
And he lifted.
Reality bent before him, groaning as it gave way to the will of a were child.
For a second, he just stood there, the world distorting as it struggled to contain him. Then he moved.
The rock beneath him shattered, sending gray shards careening through the starry night.Still soaring higher, he outstretched his hand, as if reaching for mine. Wild joy danced across his face, lighting up his pale blue eyes and casting dimples across his tanned face.
For a moment, suspended in the starry void, he was free.
Then his hold slipped, and the world, contained for mere moments, came crashing down. Alexander's eyes widened, the moments of time translating into magnitude, joining the weight to strike him from the sky.
He plummeted down to the earth like the proud son of heaven he was, cast from the sky.
And was caught by me.
I know not what his panicked and exhausted mind saw in me, but his eyes widened and a gasp escaped his lips. Before he could say anything more, exhaustion dragged him under, and he sank into the depths of dreams.
I laid him down in the long grass.
And left him to his dreams.
—--------------------------------------------
“No!” Aristotle snarled, “How many times have I told you, you stupid boy?! Think! Don’t act like a brute!”
Alexander growled at his teacher.
He received a smack on the back of his head for his insolence. “Don’t growl like an animal! Think! Reason is your sword, and logic your shield. Until you understand that, you are naught but a beast!”
Alexander seethed, but still made an effort.
He fixed his gaze on a swaying wooden pole, and the rock poached atop it. It was an unstable contraception, the pole swaying and groaning under the rock's weight, looking like it would fall at any moment.
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Of course, that was the point.
Alexander’s eyes narrowed, his mind racing as it reached for the truest, most logical statement he could find.
He extended a hand.
The sky is the domain of the winged he intoned, letting the words spill through his mind. He felt a strain as the world pushed back on him, its resentment crushing the gossamer threads of his rhetoric.
His eyes sharpened, flint revealing itself. His hand clenched, a thumb sticking out from the side.
Rocks boast no wings.
The strain disrupted his control, scattering his will even as he asserted himself.
He struggled, managing to gather the last meager scraps of his energy together.
His thumb turned down.
Fall!
The pole shivered and flexed, for a moment looking like it would give under the weight of the rock. Then the moment passed and reality reasserted itself.
“Pathetic” Aristotle scoffed, looking at Alexander's panting form. “That was among the easiest of tasks. Do you understand what your father is paying me for this education? And you are squandering it.”
Alexander groaned, slowly pushing himself to his feet.
His legs shook. He could feel reality pressing down on him, laying its chains upon his back. It meant to force him within its order, make him obey its laws.
And, at the moment, its laws told him he had no right standing after such an exertion.
It asserted its will upon him, trying to drive him to his knees.
So he asserted himself in turn, declaring to all that he would stand.
Aristotle nodded. “Better. Much better. Now, tell me, why was that easier than influencing the rock?”
Alexander thought about it. “Because I am the origin of my power, so it's easier to make changes closer to me?”
“Close. It's because the rock is outside the scope of your authority. It doesn't belong to you, so when you contest its place, you have to first assert your authority over it. And even then, you are at an advantage, because you need to maintain that authority. But for yourself…” –he waved a hand at Alexander– “You are naturally within your own authority, so it becomes less of a struggle to establish your authority, and more of a simple expansion of your already existing authority.”
Alexander tilted his head. “So why even bother establishing authority over specific things outside of yourself? Why not even bother with rhetoric? Why not just expand your own power till all things become trivial?”
Aristotle sighed, muttering something under his breath. “Just because it's simpler to do, idiot child, does not mean it is better. The harder you push against the world, the harder it pushes back. I can topple mountains with the amount of authority it would take you to punch through a small boulder.”
Alexander furrowed his brow, deep in thought.
Aristotle sighed, and waved a hand, toppling the poll and depositing the rock between them. “Say you wanted to break this rock. You could assert yourself until the rock would bend before you, but the effort of such a thing would be absurd. But I can just simply…”
He ran a gentle finger over its length, whispering words under his breath.
The rock split into two pieces.
“It's easier to work in line with the laws of nature than to blatantly disobey them. That is what rhetoric is for, to align with nature's laws. Pushing against them blindly like a brute will get you nowhere.”
“Why does the world limit us like that?”
“That is simply how it is. All things are free to exist and exert authority within certain bounds, but the second they exceed those limits, the world will push back.”
“What defines those bounds?”
Aristotle huffed. “What will it take to get this through your thick skull? It is simply the way it is. A falcon will always be faster than a man. The second a man intrudes upon that domain, the world will limit him, for he is not a falcon”
“What if he was?”
Aristotle looked at Alexander as if he had sprouted another head. “What nonsense have you got in your head now?”
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe it is futile for a human to push against the walls of nature. But what if they didn’t do so as a human?”
“That’s the stup-”
“Instead of trying to outrun a falcon as a man, do so as lightning. Instead of trying to imitate authority and natural law with knowledge, simply become what you wish to alter, and it will naturally fall within your purview.”
“Child, sto-”
“In fact, I bet it's even possible to b-”
Aristotle smacked him over the head. “Quiet, idiot child.” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re forgetting the fact that you are a man. How do you expect to become a lightning bolt?”
Alexander wilted, prompting yet another sigh from Aristotle.
“Chin up, idiot child. At least it was original.”
He reached over and reset the rock-and-pole contraption.
“Now, back to rhetoric practice.”