“No one had to die! All their works and monuments to the ingenuity of mankind did not need to perish! All these – just – just how many people perished in these wars? How many of us were killed?”
Professor Aionia answered solemnly, head held low. “Uncountable billions in the Millennium War. During Yanasura’s attempted conquests of the Aeteriite dominions, it claimed the lives of fourteen billion who lived upon Yanasura, majority of them human.”
Elwin squeezed his chest, his voice throaty. “Fourteen billion... not millions but billions... all of our Republics only number a hundred-and-seventy million in total...” Billion was a number so large that Elwin could not begin to fathom; his attempt only made it feel as if a stone was lodged upon his throat. It was as if Elwin could hear the weeping of the dead from beyond. He felt faint, and his head swam; he had to muster every ounce of effort not to crumple to the bed. Thinking of all the stories the peoples of the world would have once written, all the songs they’ve once sung, all the knowledge in all the libraries on earth and the memory of every monument, discovery, and achievement that in the end vanished to dust induced in the kismets a deep anguish, a pain too profound. Maximus was right when he confided in Professor Aionia the year prior, when he and his squadra was told the history of the world as champions; they were all too young to hear it, to grasp the magnitude of the loss humanity endured. But hear it, they must; they had no other choice.
“Why do we at every turn have to repeat the same mistakes over and over again...!?”
Isaac rested his hand on Elwin’s shoulder.
“We could have been sailing the heavens, and forged a utopia among the stars, instead of waging these –” Elwin gestured furiously, “these pointless wars!”
“The Aeterii did invade us first many millenniums before, right?” Isaac reiterated. “It makes sense for Emperor Yanasura to have been wary of them.”
“Wary doesn’t translate to genocidal tendencies,” interjected Mirai. “More likely that his experiences as a slave under the Aeterii gave him the impetus to wipe them off the map. Since I don’t have his experience, it will be disingenuous of me to try a judgment on it...”
“Then without Aeterii, none of our works and monuments to ingenuity had to perish, both in the civilizations of the FOUNDERS and later in the Yanasuran Empire! Just – these – who are these Aeterii, why did they invade us? Where are they now?” Elwin hollered, his indignancy palpable, his fist on the sheets.
Professor Aionia held up her palm. “Elwin, a measure of calm. I understand precisely how you feel, for I’ve been told the same before. But we mustn’t let hate steer the forefront of our thoughts. Allow me to explain everything to you.”
“The Aeterii,” she continued, “is an archaic name meaning Those from the Aether. We don’t know precisely when people started using that word on the ultracontinent, but it references their nature that they are not from the Earth, nor from even the same solar system we find ourselves in – otherwise our brave star-voyagers would have made their message through armonion. Ancient memory shards attest that the Aeterii emerged through great rifts in the atmospheres, the lands, and the seas, almost like parting veils. Beyond those veils were shimmering visions of other dominions and worlds, perhaps their prior habitations. It was evident that they did not have the same origin as humankind, because they did not use the Four Mahamastra that we know. That was another reason we surmised they were from the Aether, or the Aetherine Rift – a plane of existence that escapes the dominion of the Four Elements.”
“Dishonorable of them to just barge in and lay claim to what isn’t theirs to take,” Elwin remarked.
Katherine cocked her head, her eyes narrowed, seeming to recall something from her memory. “Doesn’t use the Four Elements? Wait, professor... what do they look like? Where are they now?”
“Their descendants, you have most likely heard already by a different name earlier in your education. Before you came to Aeternitas.”
“We learnt of them earlier in school?” Isaac wondered, racking his head.
Katherine exclaimed so loud that all the kismets nearly jumped out of bed. “The Avanian peoples! From Avan, yes! One of my father’s suppliers for Tenebriton is an Avanian! East across the vast sea! They can’t use the Four Mahamastra, instead their own powers!”
“What? Wait – I know it too! Avan! Avanians!” Elwin blurted out, recalling his father’s childhood stories. He’d told Elwin that there was a shattered continent through the storms and unruly seas to the west of Mythrise. The peoples that inhabited it had distinct appearances resembling those of the various species of animals, though they found it an insult if a human was to compare it to them. There were a great variety of them, he had said, although he was only able to visit one nation on that continent of Avan before a war broke out and he had to leave. The nation he’d visited featured peoples with the heads of ferocious ice-tigers with black and icy stripes, fleecy bodies that stood twice as tall as him, and flexible paw-like hands with claws as long as his foot. They would race on all fours as a means to travel fast, but walk on two legs for industrious activities that required care and finesse. When they roared to communicate over vast distances, it was loud enough to burst his eardrums, so he used the Ayumastra to dampen their sounds when he was nearby. Despite this, some of them knew how to attune to the language of humankind, so his guide – a friendly frost-tiger-Avanian – spoke to him in the modern Mythrisian tongue when he was bringing him around.
The name for these specific peoples with tigerlike features – whose name Elwin forgot since he heard it too young – lived in a wild nation of frosty mountains, or so his father told, and constructed entire cities under them in vast halls of stone and metal. They were going to war with another nation down south, who the guide referred to as Ursals in the Mythrisian tongue, but his father had to stop his journey prematurely. This was before his major archaeological expeditions to the Empire of Jin.
“These Avanians are – were – the Aeterii?” Elwin exclaimed, smacking his forehead.
“They must be!” answered Katherine.
“Your father’s supplier, right? What did they look like?” asked Isaac eagerly, expectant.
“They looked like a mix of, how do I say –” paused Katherine, contorting her face in difficult recollection – “he – I’m pretty sure it was a ‘he’ because my father referred to that Avanian as a ‘he’ – he had the head of a bearded lizard, almost like the dragons that feature in our own myths, and he had bronze scales all over mixed with a tint of red. He stood taller than me of course, and stood about two heads taller than my father. He also had a large, scaly tail that could grab small crates and lift them up from the deck. I recall that he moved with surprising agility, both upright and crawling with speed when he needed to. There were many like him on the ship that came to dock.”
“A bronze Atarsk,” Professor Aionia nodded. “One of the many subgroups of the dragon-like people who descended from a branch of the Aeterii.”
“So all Avanians are descendants of the Aeterii?”
“Correct.”
“Wow, how come I’ve never heard of them until now? I mean, I must’ve learnt about Avanians sometime in school, but I forgot about it...” remarked Isaac, a little sheepish.
“It is not your fault – textbooks of today often do not mention them in detail as they deserve,” Professor Aionia elucidated. “They lived together with humankind on Mythrise during the First Republic.”
“Why’re they gone now?” Mirai asked, brows furrowed.
“The Empire of Jin tried to exterminate them when they invaded Mythrise and established rule here, eleven hundred years ago as you know. Encarnacion Astinel tried to protect them, but by the time he liberated the continent, most had perished or fled across the seas west, finding the shattered continent of Avan. They felt rejected and betrayed by humankind, because Consul MITHRA had promised long ago that they would establish a new world of peace where humankind and Aeterii could exist side-by-side, and no errors of blind bloodshed like that committed by Emperor Yanasura will ever occur in the future. Sadly, this new era didn’t come to be, when the Empire of Jin – humans – discriminatorily slaughtered them with impunity while merely chaining Mythrisians.”
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Elwin felt a pause. In just moments before, he felt incensed that it was the Aeterii who once took everything from humankind and had robbed it of its dignity, and effaced its achievements. But the Aeterii were still people – not human or necessarily sharing human sensibilities, but still sentient and intelligent, having felled by both Emperor Yanasura’s hand and that of Mahanai’s, huddling together with humankind and hoping for a better future under Consul MITHRA. Humankind and the Aeterii seemed to possess the same errors in their nature – the drive for conquest, the need for safety. Perhaps love, too. Maybe Elwin was too quick to judge.
“Encarnacion Astinel’s failure to protect humankind and the Aeterii equally is one of his greatest regrets, because we as the Encarnacion hold not just the souls of humankind but Aeterii within us – the spirits of those who fell by Mahanai’s hand, trying to escape the ultracontinent. We upheld our promise to protect the descendants of humankind, but failed the descendants of the Aeterii.”
“So the reason why no Aeterii – well, no Avanian – lives on Mythrise is because of Consul Astinel?”
“We cannot pin it entirely upon him,” Professor Aionia explained. “Because Astinel did not become Encarnacion by choice, rather by chance. The previous Encarnacion unfortunately passed away prematurely during a diplomatic mission to the Empire of Jin, without having chosen a successor. The souls bound to the Encarnacion were therefore left without an anchor. They traversed the world in the weaves of ORI for many years and by chance, affixed themselves to a little boy. That boy then grew up to be Astinel, and as he did not receive any of the guidance or knowledge of the previous Encarnacion, had to re-discover the Encarnacion’s duties entirely on his own. By the time he realized what promise the Encarnacion must uphold, and could finally unleash his full power, the Liberation War against the Empire of Jin was already over.”
“Oh no...” whispered Isaac.
“And this is one reason why Astinel founded Aeternitas – an institution of learning where the Encarnacion could both secretly preserve and transmit the knowledge of their duty to future generations, and to find a worthy successor. In this way, those who live after him could always have a system by which they could learn and unleash their potential as the Encarnacion, and not commit the same mistake as his predecessor.”
“So Aeternitas is not just any academy of learning, but...”
“Founded by the Encarnacion, to choose future successors and equip the world with the means to prevail against Mahanai when he returns.”
The revelation struck the kismets like a clarion drum.
No wonder we were taught to defend, develop, protect, and preserve the peoples of the Republics, and to go out there and improve it! What better way to equip the world against evil than by inspiring people to make it a more radiant place? Elwin thought.
“Returning to the Aeterii,” asked Mirai, concerned, “Did Encarnacion Astinel’s failure to protect them harm his... your capabilities, in any way? Since your Kaha is composed of the souls of both humankind and Aeterii, right? The souls of the dead who wanted to protect their descendants?”
“Regrettably, it did. Through the failures of the Encarnacion before him, and also of Astinel, the Aeteriite souls came to deny us their full power. This amounted to almost half of the souls within us.”
“Is it still that way?” Elwin asked.
“Thankfully no. I’ve managed to convince some souls within to lend me their powers once more. I’ve sojourned to Avan in my younger years, and in the war that embroiled two of their nations, I helped them towards a solution. As a result, the ancestral souls within me – representing their descendants who are the peoples of those two nations – offered to give their power once again.”
“But I’m guessing that’s not all the Avanians?”
“Only two out of the nine Aeteriite kin.”
“So there are nine nations in total!” exclaimed Isaac.
“Only seven,” Professor Aionia clarified. “Two groups were erased by Emperor Yanasura long before humankind fell.”
“Oh...” Isaac murmured.
“Who are they ruled by now? Do they have a consul? A president? Maybe a king?” Mirai chimed in.
“Long ago on the ultracontinent, each distinct Aeteriite speciea was led by a singular individual with divine powers, each group venerating their own divine figure. We called those divine figures Aesh, the Wrath from the Aether, and collectively referred to them as the Aesynir, in contrast to the Mahanir that are divinities of our human pantheon.”
“Surely these Aesynir were not as powerful as our FOUNDERS?” Elwin asked, eager to know why it was that they won the first war.
“Their potency ranged greatly. The least powerful Aesh held only the fraction of the power of the FOUNDERS. But the strongest performed feats that rivaled an individual FOUNDER, at least by metaphorical comparison. It is challenging to state whether they were evenly matched. All the FOUNDERS had ascended to the heavens long ago, after all; there were no one-on-one contests, and even so, it would be like comparing apples to tangerines. The Aesynir do not use the Four Mahamastra, and instead control the environment through their own unique sets of abilities.”
“And all of these Aesynir were slain? All nine of them?”
“Emperor Yanasura slew three of them in combat himself, before his fall. One was brought back to life by their peoples, but still shared the same fate as the other six. When humankind awakened once again, we found the remaining thrones of the Aesynir empty.”
“Why? Who killed them?”
“No one knows. Even the Aeterii themselves do not understand. Some believe that their divinities abandoned them for another world, or were lifted to celestion.”
“Did they really disappear just like that? How do the Aeterii know?”
“They knew it because the immortality enjoyed by every Aeterii ceased to exist. They had the power of their divinities no longer, and began to age naturally like we do.”
“So they can die from old age?”
“Correct.”
“By immortal,” Isaac interjected, “do you also mean they were immune to all harm? Or just natural aging?”
“Only natural aging. They could still be hurt through various means.”
“Wow, even still...” Isaac murmured. Deep thoughts glimmered in his eyes.
“Having lost their divinities,” Professor Aionia continued, “the Aeterii were left without leaders, which contributed to the bloodshed of the half century after.”
“What about now? They have their own nations, right?”
“Right. Some are ruled by monarchs, others by chieftains, and others a council of their own choosing. The politics in Avan is always tumultuous, shared only by their unified desire to keep humanity out. A few traders and travelers here and there aside, the majority of nations on Avan keep a fastidiously isolationist stance. They remember the pain of being involved in human affairs and wish never to suffer from it again. And it’s worked well – you can go your entire life without ever meeting an Avanian unless you are in engaged in prolific trading, or even have their names enter your thoughts outside of the school textbook. Our Mythrisian Republics understands their desire to be left alone, and do not want our own peoples venturing needlessly towards Avan out of curiosity and whatnot and plunge themselves into unwelcome, so they keep Avan as plain and uninteresting as possible in the textbooks. They hope people will forget about them.”
“Perhaps better that way, lest a destructive war embroil us again,” Elwin remarked, sighing. Perhaps it’s also the reason why his father kept his visit unusually quiet. Elwin could not recall seeing any past newspaper mention his visit, nor any book or journal mentioning Avan in his study, for that matter.
“Do Avanians often go to war between themselves?” asked Elwin, looking up from his thoughts.
“They used to. They currently keep a tenuous peace.”
“Why do they war when they’re from the same origin? From the Aether?” queried Isaac, cocking his head.
“The same reason we humankind used to fight each other,” Professor Aionia answered. “But perhaps it’s more so because the peoples of each nation in Avan are far more distinct in variance than what we find among humankind, leaving even less empathy to stay their hands. We humanity are only marked by superficial differences: the colors of our hair, eyes, skin, some facial features and perhaps a few notes of stature. Each Aeteriite speciea differs from the other as a tiger differs from a lizard, or a marlin differs from a falcon. They differ on almost everything imaginable, let alone what traits of personalities they have and the beliefs they hold sacred.”
“So you have the Atarsk peoples as you mentioned, and a variety of others on Avan?”
“Yes, some resemble tigers, some resemble great apenine foxes. Others are more of aquatic nature, and others more humanoid, though still quite different from us. They do find it an insult if we compare them to non-sapient animals in their presence, however.”
“I see...” Elwin trailed off, his head a flurry of thoughts. But wait! The demon in the city below earth – what was it, precisely? An Aeteriite? An Avanian that had invaded?
“Professor, it’s a bit – well, I was going to ask – do any of the Avanians that currently exist resemble centipedes? Insectoids? Snakes?”
“No. I understand this is about the demon you faced under the city? It is not an Aeteriite. Far from it.”
“Speaking of the demon,” inquired Mirai, recalling back to when her Quan growled at the visage of the cobra-centipede monster and its stench struck in her the same disgust as the MAHA from the beyond, “you mentioned the King of All Ends, right, professor? How did he arise? Who and what did he want?”