After a quick self-check, the man discovered that he indeed retained the same bells and whistles as his previous mortal shell, the man noticed that his surroundings were exuberantly decorated with many needless luxuries strewn about. The man, wait no… child? Looked at the supple hands that always held him, they were surprisingly his fathers’ hands his mother an elusive angel. His father looked sophisticated with a full suit, gold rimmed spectacles and most jarringly an impeccable posture. Despite dressing intolerably snobbish, the man was smiling warmly at the child in his arms, it was such an affectionate smile the child found it intoxicating. The man had short ash grey hair and deep crimson eyes, his nose was surprisingly subtle and his cheeks smooth with little to no blemishes. A month thereafter the child was able to partake in the beauty of his mother, her glossy midnight hair flowed lavishly, her pallid skin shimmered like an evening winter day, her eyes were of a subtle turquoise and her hands moved as if they were flowing water. The child was able to observe and look in awe, yet he could do few things, let alone talking he could not yet control his bladder and thus was left with the pain of inaction for many winters.

The child was rather content with its parents, they were loving and kind, most importantly the child’s brain didn’t have the capacity yet to think otherwise. the child forgot of the endless sea and his past and found himself content with life as he aged.

In the blink of an eye the child was eight years old and had learnt a few things first was that he was abnormally smart for his age analysing what he knew so far of his household he made a list.

1. Family wealth: 12 caravans, 458 minor trade contracts, 36 noble connections, 2 major trade contracts

2. Workers: roughly 3650

3. Parents: smart, big brain, kind.

4. Great grandpa: got dad title of baron, gives sweets, is nice.

5. What is baron? Dunno.

6. People working for dad: butler, workers, chief attendant, 14 mercenary companies and the village guard-

7. Dad strength: strong, never fall.

8. Mum strength: kind, never fight.

9. Little brother: annoying, always ask questions, is cute.

10. Fruit tasty…

11. Ask butler for more fruit…

Of course the list trailed off as he wasn’t a genius, just above average enough to raise interest and be lauded over at such a backwater region like coredim, the empire where the boy resided was large and far reaching occupying the entire western peninsula which was a natural fortress with riches beyond compare, of course few of those riches were allowed near mere commoners but the empire was rich nonetheless and such a small region was of no importance to anyone of mention in the empire.

The child was dressed in a cute little suit and had polished off his next fruit when he heard his mother call for him from the door.

“Ciaran why are you hiding up here”.

“How did you know!?”

“And who told you we had an attic?”

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

Glumly Ciaran replied “You…”

Ciaran had turned the attic of their mansion into a workshop of ideas, (none of which worked) he had filled it with contraptions materials and tools hidden away from the prying eyes of others.

“Come on down your father has something to show you”.

Ciaran would never think of disobeying his mother’s orders, so he begrudgingly looked past her transgressions and headed down a neglected staircase to the kitchen and then followed an old servant’s corridor to the hall where he saw his father. Now that all three were in the same room it was undeniable that he was their child, Ciaran bore two different colours that intermingled in his eyes, crimson and turquoise, his hair was swaths of black and ash while his skin had the softness of his father and the pale colour of his mother.

Though Ciaran’s father was wearing a monocle today

A monocle was abnormal since spectacles normally adorned his father’s face... getting bored waiting Ciaran asked.

“Why are you wearing a monocle instead of glasses?”

“Great observation, it’s a gift”.

“For whom?”

The man chuckled a little before continuing.

“Why you of course, soon you will enter the academy and you need an artifact.”

Ciaran asked in anticipation “really, when do I start”.

“You start the first morning of next week, you have already been enrolled”.

“Then why give it to me now?”

“You got to have a little fun with it, why not?”

As the Ciaran had never been disappointed with his father’s gifts in the past the boy was indeed eager to delve into what this seemingly normal monocle held. In general Artifacts were objects created through the infusion of aether into an object to create an affect. It was very simple in theory but created items with fantastical affects.

Ciaran knowing that his father would not give it so easily even if it were a gift tried jumping to get the monocle off of his father but inevitably failed and pouted at his father’s smug face. Ciaran’s father’s gentle hand graced his face with its warmth, placing the monocle on his right eye. Ciaran needed not to adjust it as surprisingly the monocle shrunk to fit his eye nestling itself comfortably and Ciaran saw one of the affects immediately, there was a subtle foreign hue to everything he saw, some were subtle like red floating around a candle, but others were obvious like a light green around a wooden table.

Taken aback Ciaran forgot to say his thanks and immediately sought to quench his thirst for knowledge.

“what’s with all the colours”.

Ciaran’s father was going to say “guess” but after seeing the look in the child’s eyes changed his mind, who could ever resist such temptation?

“it’s aether”.

“Really?”

“Yes, it comes in many different colours, blue for water and red for flames, green for natural elements and white for light. There are many more, but you will learn that at the academy.”

“I can’t wait” the enthusiastic Ciaran then proceeded to bounce off the walls in a mad search for different colours of Aether.

Seeing that the boy was distracted with delving into the monocles other features Ciaran’s father felt a little contentment as it was a genuine struggle to get Ciaran to slowly enjoy one thing. There was nothing Ciaran’s father felt the boy struggled in, although the boy had innumerable failures under his belt already the boy had overcome each one with ease, the man believed there was never true growth or mastery until there unless it was a struggle. He believed that knowledge and skill were split into two worlds the surface and the underworld, struggle was the key to find understanding and enter the underworld where true skill resided.