The two brothers, which fate has left alone, make their way out of the broken home. Amel walks past the garden dug below the stone, the flowers covered in the black substance which rained from the sky, only, it seemed to change into the colour of water as time went on. Femel crawled onto the ground, attempted here and there to lift himself on his feet, his bones not supporting him, holding Amel by the hand. Amel didn’t know what to do, but he knew that finding some other adults should be of help.
However, once they opened the gate of their yard, and stepped into the once busy streets, blood, bone and flesh is all that was present. Scattered against the house walls, coursing like rivers in the canals. The horrifying picture inside his house, was splattered all over the once beautiful city. The houses were empty of activity and from a corner, here and there, a person, confused as him, peeked from around, their faces coiled in horror.
While he was hoping to find another capable adult to help them, Amel was faced instead with the grim reality that there might not be anyone left to help them even. He tried to gesture towards other people, call them over and try gain their assistance, but people were sceptical of all their surroundings, as the monster took various shapes, and wouldn’t be far fetched if it disguised itself as a kid or a normal human, to draw out the remaining humans and kill them as well. Amel didn’t understand their fear, not now that his mind blocked all the trauma he suffered in order to survive. That, and the unknown fact to him, that the light which he possessed since he was given birth, was enhancing his mind, speeding up his thought process and impeding him from letting wild emotions run inside his mind.
Seeing as there would be low chance for other people to help them, Amel instead started to think on the available resources. The city of Amouldes prides itself on the strong architecture and infrastructure, as Mou the Builder personally designed the city down to the smallest detail, even their house before they were born or their parents or their parents’ parents. This was done through machines made of stone and metal, which Mou personally handcrafted a long long time ago, in a time where humanity barely emerged. These machines were called constructs, and the usual, observable ones where the Base Constructs and Builder Constructs. Amel was thinking of the Base Constructs of which to make use, as they were usually up to do menial tasks and simple tasks, while the Builder Constructs were personally commanded by Mou, and given that he was far away, in Opeldes, these wouldn’t be seen until his return. Another reason for choosing the Base Constructs were their scheduled routines. Having Femel who could barely stumble around, was a hard task as he couldn’t carry him due to his own small size. So, Amel thought it would be wise to make use of some Base Constructs and carry both of them around, conserving energy and observing their surroundings all the meanwhile.
With that in mind, Amel started looking around for some, seeing glimpses of some on the other side of the massive central road, where their country stood parallel from, and one coming form the south side of the city. Amouldes didn’t have any walls, as the only dangers lurking around were the wild animals and such. The construct which he spotted, was one of the carrier types, getting stone or other raw materials from the outside and bringing them inside, where they would be later used. It was perfect, as long as he could place Femel on top of it.
He waited patiently, the construct moving at the perfect pace, so not to arrive to slow or too late, as Mou wished them to. Due to his absence however, these constructs would just run in loops until Mou returned. It wasn’t a perfect system, but it is what sustained this city for hundreds of years. While waiting, Amel heard some noise from somewhere up the the street, an argument between two men. People were starting to realise that the monster was definitely gone, and those remaining, were the last humans of the city. So arguments started to erupt between those which wanted to get food for themselves and those which wished to establish a sort of order and split whatever is left between them.
“We won’t last a week anyhow!” the one wanting food for himself raged at the other man, who was holding a few sacks of grain and wheat behind him, where a few other humans were impatiently waiting, wanting to leave with the food and share it. “If this happened here, it must’ve happened all over right?!” he tried to pose his point.
“We don’t know that,” the one holding his stance argued back. “It barely has been a day since it happened, so we aren’t sure if other kingdoms, or even other cities from our own have been affected,” he was making a good point, to which the other people were listening, finding some hope in his words.
“Have you seen the clouds?!” the man continued to argue back, “They came from east, west and south! They had to have travelled all over the place before reaching here,” his logic wasn’t flawed, and others have started to realise it as well, that what he was saying, meant that the other kingdoms may have very well fallen the same as their beloved city did.
“Do you really think that the First Six, our great protectors and creators, would’ve simply fallen for this?” the words seemed to invoke a stronger reaction from the others, which the one arguing back didn’t like. “If you believe that, then you’re a fool. There is a reason as to why they have gathered in Opeldes, and it can’t be a coincidence that when our Lord Mou should have arrived, the next moment this happened,” he was starting to win the crowd, Amel noticed. But, much like he could see his own light, he could see the flickering weaves of light going off of each human’s back, something which even Masters of the Light would struggle with, all thanks to his unwillingly infused mind. Due to that, he was able to tell that the human holding his stance, was firm in his resolve, as the light didn’t flutter, however, the same could be said for the other. Not the same though, something within his light was unpleasant to Amel, as if he was ready to something regrettable.
And to his anticipation, the man did, he snapped at the sacks behind, trying to snatch one for him. The others stepped in, the one standing firm especially stood against him, pushing him back, while others grabbed him by the back. In a flash, more blood was drain in those days of tragedy. Looking at his hand, the man standing firm, saw the red colour of blood coming from his belly. The man trying to steal the sack, was a clothier, so he was using things like short knives to cut the cloth clean, and he took one with him in case he would have to defend against the monster. In his wild mental state, he pulled the knife and pushed into the man’s belly. To Amel and most humans in Domaire, crime was a foreign concept. Thought by their makers that the should not raise the arm against one another, crime not only was harshly punished no matter how small offence, but was almost unseen in their history, with some rare exceptions and those being usually from intoxication with a foreign new fungus or some illness befalling them.
To the young mind of Amel, this seemed a logical conclusion to the conflict, even though he never was thought of such thing, it was something his primal mind started to assume in order to preserve. Seeing as a fight blew up between those people, and the prospect of death near him and his brother, he didn’t approach the people gathered there, even if food was present and may have been offered to these two innocent kids. Instead, the waited until the construct passed by his house, and without even helping Femel, they were both on top of the constructs, placing themselves in its arms and letting themselves be carried away.
As Amel already knew some of the routes of these constructs from his parents walking him around the city, he knew that it was headed for the far back of the city. Amel was planning to switch between a few constructs in order to assess the situation better, however, upon standing in the construct’s arms, he got mesmerised by the runes inscribed in its stone and metal of which it was made. The brightly colored runes, flickering at times stronger or weaker, were of deep fascination to him. The way he would build his own constructs was through sheer infusion of his light into a pile or put together raw material, like wood or stone. This, however, was something none, besides Mou, knew how to work with. Runes were something taught in school, even if no one beyond Mou after hundreds of years, has managed to master, besides the one exception of their time, Amelor, after whom Amel was named also. He didn’t understand the runes, much like anyone else, due to being scribed in the language of the Makers, those which made Mou and the other First Six. The way modern human language worked, was based off of that of the Makers, which the First Six could speak without issue, and through the hundreds of years which have passed and the many new words added, this language morphed into one unique to humans, the other long forgotten for its little uses.
Amel could read normal human language, and given his enhanced mind from the light, he could speed up his process of thinking to such a degree, that he managed to decipher the some of the runes by association of the old language with the new one. While he wasn’t able to decipher the more complicated ones, the basic ones, allocated for motor functions and such, were of enough ease, that he felt impulsed to try his hand on altering the value of the runes.
A rune’s value is based on the amount of light infused into it, since light can contain information, and Mou used this technique to infuse the runes with a lingering light, which would only need resupplied once every few dozen years. A high efficiency process which made these constructs true wonders of ingenuity. Amel looked upon these runes, and decided to infuse them with his own light. He expected the runes to either conflict with his own light or his light to overlap the values and for him to be able to reassign the values as he wishes. None, however, have happened. Instead, much like his constructs, the values assigned to the runes through his light, acted on their own instead, as if they had a mind and life of their own.
This was due to Amelor’s ability, which instead of infusing the runes with static information, which he could then assign different values, his light infused whatever he choose with fluid information. This fluid information would manifest in the form of an almost sentient, basic entity. The one thing which stopped them from becoming fully sentient, was the attachment to Amel. Through this attachment, at first, Amel would infuse his light with parts of his mind, memories and actions. So, once he performed his infusion action, the runes were rescribed into new ones, with the properties of some of his mind’s memories. Walking, talking and even acting like a human, were all things which he subconsciously infused into them, which meant he didn’t have control over which memories were brought into them. Given his current memories and events, the ones which were infused, were the memories and personna of his mother which he thought of. By overwriting the runes, the construct was brought to a halt. While it’s true that new, fluid information infused values were placed inside the construct, conflicts would still arrive between all the other runes which haven’t been.
Amel understood the issue without much thought, so he began infusing all the other runes with his light, the memories and thoughts brought into these runes, were random yet worked in tandem with the others. Where a rune lacked enough information to fulfil its role, the others would combine their own information with that of the almost completed one, in order to bring it to capacity. This interaction was so unique, intricate and special, that not even Mou or one of the Makers would be able to decipher or hope to understand. Amel was the only one capable of understanding, as he was the maker of these runes and the constant flow of information was infused with his own light.
It could be said that while Mou’s constructs have the advantage of being capable to be fully remote, Mou’s light not having to interact directly, Amel’s had the advantage of being capable to become self reliant, without pre imposed instructions or the need for a constant feed of information, like the Builder Constructs. The only danger laying in these constructs, was Amel’s possible death, as these constructs would gain will of their own and act of their own volition. However, Amel had the option of retracting the light from them once he understood his own powers better.
With the construct subjected to his own will and stollen from Mou, Amel felt like he made the first right step into a better direction. These constructs were large and powerful, for two kids like them in times of death and devastation, it could be said it was a blessing from the heavens, except it wasn’t, for Amel was the one who managed to bring the construct to their side.
Femel would start to analyze the construct more closely, as the memories of their mother and her personna got ingrained into the construct, a certain ‘warmth’ which both the light inside the construct emanated and the radiated information of their mother through the light started to touch the young boy’s skin, he felt comfortable in the construct’s arms. Amel knew the better, as he was the one who made the construct as is, even though he didn’t understand why he and Femel felt it from the construct.
While thinking deeply, his mind started to ache. Both the strain of his light infused mind and mental trauma, were starting to reach him. He couldn’t allow himself to rest though. While they did have the construct to carry them and somewhat protect them, they still had no place to sleep or eat. His eyes, from up the construct’s shoulders, focused on the central building of Amouldes, where Mou the Builder was spending most of his time. There, people gathered in the hundreds or even thousands, had large feasts and were coming to listen to Mou’s teaching and watch him perform his acts of energy manipulation through the constructs. To Amel, these might’ve mattered in ten years from that point on, but survival was his only worry, and that place had to have resources like food, clothes and warm beds on which they could rest.
He wasn’t wrong for thinking that, but that didn’t mean he was the only one. He could also see a bunch of people running to, what was called, the Builder’s Keep. Without hesitation, he sent the wish through the construct to make a dash for the Keep. Femel was sound asleep in the construct’s arms, who let go of the stone which it was carrying, as its tasks no longer mattered, but what Amel wished for it to do. The construct wasn’t made for running and such, but was still faster than the average human, not enough to catch up to the others, yet enough to reach the keep in time to grab something for the two of them.
As the Keep drew closer and closer, he saw the iron gates of the Keep starting to close from the inside. Some people have already managed to sneak inside and captured the Keep for themselves. The other people which have gathered there screamed to let them in, throwing rocks and spitting at those on top of the Keep’s outer wall, while some were looking for ways to get inside, like through the many canals which ran deep inside the Keep, through which some constructs were coming and going with materials. While the captors couldn’t close those, due to the constructs’ irrevocable ability to close and open the gates as they wished thanks to their runes, those inside chose violence. The armour and weaponry usually used for wild beasts and the like, were turned against their fellow humans. Amel would once again witness a meaningless act of violence. In his mind, “the food will run out either way, why not share it for some time, before hunger envelopes us all?”. His childish mind still couldn’t comprehend the greed of humans. Once the shield of security and prosperity were done, humans would act like wild animals, trying to snatch onto whatever they can so they can live in the fantasy of safety a bit longer.
Disappointed with the view and merciless acts of violence from his fellow kin, Amel turned with a sour face towards south, where, outside the city, their farm laid in wait. After seeing the way the Keep has been treated, he was fully expecting pillaging people to be there as well. So, in order to deal with any groups like the one at the Keep, he would look for another construct. This time, one of the Builder Constructs. Those were stationed usually inside the Keep, however, when his father would bring him out of the city and to their farm, on their way, there were small stone houses. In those, Builder Constructs which had accomplished tasks from far away, and didn’t have time to return to the Keep, were kept inside. He would like one or more of those, as they were twice as large as the Base Constructs and much stronger.
With those thoughts in mind, he wished upon the construct, which in his mind started to call Om, and they were heading beyond the city, in the wild landscapes, outside the city in which they grew.
The construct was making a steady pace towards the south side of Amouldes, and Femel was still sound asleep, despite all the noise and screams from around them. Looking around, Amel could see more fresh blood, burning houses and shadows moving where they shouldn’t. In their city, there were some Masters of the Light. Most of the already few Masters were killed much like most of the human populace, however, if one were to survive and turn their abilities against their own kin, they would prove of the highest degree of problem. Amel already understood the danger one such could possess, taking himself as the low example of what one inexperienced in the light could do, let alone someone who dedicated their entire life to it.
Thankfully, he wouldn’t encounter anyone as such inside the city and managed to progress smoothly until out into the open landscape. There were no forests nearby Amouldes, only green grasslands stretching for as far as the eye could see. There was only forest some two-three days of travel from the city further south, surrounding a large lake, but Amel had nothing to worry about there. He wanted to reach the farm before anyone could notice the odd Base Construct heading out of the city.
Om, after a few hours of the newly imbued light coursing through, has had drastic changes done to the inner structure. While the runes which Amel couldn’t understand still had the lingering power inside, it didn’t impede Om’s new light from acting as it wished. Thus, Om started to develop own inner ‘thoughts’ so to speak, but rather than thoughts, they were the result of tens of thousands of clashes of information between the various runes. This level of complexity gave birth to something akin to thoughts and feelings. Even though those were merely emulations of Amel’s mothers personna and outside view Amel had of her, they were still enough to make the construct think for itself.
This wasn’t a bad thing, far from it. As Amel and Femel had a third ‘person’ to aid them in their journey, and not just a somewhat sentient machine. With a mind of its own, the construct would start to analyse its surroundings. The information which didn’t possess value, like a tree’s movement or the clouds on the sky or a small critter running around, was replaced by more thoughts of the construct’s own. With this self developed ability, the construct was able to perform basic assessments of its surroundings, and upon notice, would point for Amel where it thought it might have seen something. Amel didn’t understood at first what the construct meant or was becoming, as he merely infused his light and the information flowing through his mind, was outside the comfort of his memories and thoughts. It could be said that because of the inner connection he had with the construct, he would experience things from multiple angles and like no other human. A powerful tool in capable hands, a frightening thing a kid could feel.
Even so, Amel would make use of it, his still light enhanced mind, thought and processed different variations and outcomes of the construct having a mind of its own and acting, with the safety of him and his brother in mind at a basic level, for their benefit. It came out as a positive. “Two pairs of eyes, are better than one,” he thought, “and when I fall asleep, it can keep us safe even when I don’t will my intention to it,” he further assessed. His mind was starting to work on cold logic, something absolutely necessary.
A few more hours would pass until they reached the lands where their farm was at. Om helped Amel to watch out for wild animals and rogue humans or Masters of Light. They only had one encounter with a rootworm, an ancient species which once dominated the lands of Domaire and west of Ilianor, but once the Makers enacted some grand genocidal plan against them, their numbers dwindled and were forced to adapt. From the once fifteen-thirty metres long beasts, to measly one-five meters long. Still a huge issue for the kids and the constructs, but Om was able to learn from this experience, replacing more of the pointlessly filled information inside the runes, with measures of defence and attack. It was still a rough experience, but aside from Femel waking up and crying, there was nothing Amel had to worry about.
The few golden and green fields of grain and vegetables, were covered in specs of red, pink and white, from the dust of bones. Wherever Amel went, the massacre followed, to him, it became clearer and clearer that the disaster brought upon them, had happened beyond their city and might’ve as well destroyed the human kingdoms as a whole. The First Six were the only hope, in his child mind, that could come to their rescue. But given the far distance between Amouldes and Opeldes, Amel wouldn’t suspect to see or hear of Mou until weeks later, even if him and the others were still alive. Whether they were or not, Amel knew he couldn’t wait for any other help. So, he approached their farm, Femel still carried by Om, its four metres tall stature making Amel look more like a small infant, than the three years old kid he was. Femel, who was on its right arm, held much more like the baby he was, was suckling on his thumb, hungry and fascinated by the environment in his vision. He was never brought out of the city, as it was certain that anyone two years or younger, might be afflicted by a certain disease which stunted the growth of their teeth. Amel was close to four years of age, as he was given birth in autumn, while Femel still had a while before his second year of life.
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Looking around, like he usually did when his father brought him there, he saw the mill his father built over the course of the summer prior to his birth. As it was an old tradition, fathers would build something for their yet to be born children over the course of a season, this was something only done in Amouldes, to honor the name of Mou the Builder. For Femel, their father built a wonderful house of stone and wood where he could rest after a long day’s of work, and where he hoped one of his sons or daughters could spend their days after a long day of work as well. That day would come to be that one, which wasn’t the happy, blissful moment of peace their father would’ve hoped to have, but rather the moments of high necessity and desperation which brought them here.
Amel walked on his own feet towards the farm, he wanted to feel the earth which his father walked, to keep those happy memories of him in his mind. Om would follow close behind, its steps careful and silent, as if the construct wasn’t weighing a house’s stone floor. Once Amel was in front of their large field, he could see it all as he usually did. The grain portion of the land, the vegetables sprouting here and there, the trees bearing sweet fruit, and the animal pen, with the few livestock they managed to afford. He didn’t have time to take it in, the sight of their farm for one of the last times, as his worry became the state of the house.
Inside, he knew of the underground room, locked behind a latch with a lock. While crime wasn’t known to humans up to that point in any major capacity, wild animals like bears, could still make their way inside the house if they tried hard enough. So farmers would build such underground rooms, and given the available materials, they would prove really well made and good at preserving foods even in summer. As long as no one has made it here and though of it, then they would be safe for the next few months.
Amel headed first, but Om stepped up from behind, picking him up on its shoulders. The behaviour of the construct started to become more and more independent. Amel didn’t know if he liked it or not, since as a child, he wished to be nourished and protected.
Amel simply let the construct do its duty of keeping them safe, and let it take them to the house, since Om had the memories needed to make its way through. Amel climbed down once they were at the back of the farm, where, between the fruit trees, the house laid almost in disguise. “Here it is brother, the house our father built for you, what do you think?” Amel would only get a burp for a response, more than he expected. Before heading inside, Amel checked the windows and back door, as his father taught him to. This was in case some bear broke through and must be cautious of it. It also helped then that, given the behaviour of humans, it wasn’t that different from bears. There were all kinds of small clues for if a bear broke through, like wood stops and cloth placed carefully between the door or windows’ hinges. None were disturbed.
With a small breath, and a confident turn of the front door’s handle, he walked inside. Om was barely able to fit inside, but with the inconsequential help from Amel’s push from behind, with a stumble and a crash forward, they were all inside. Amel on Om’s back, Femel tumbled away from the fall and Om with its face planted to the stone floor. It was a cute, little accident, but Amel could read the intentions of the construct, and he could tell it could’ve avoided the fall, even catch all of them. Once again, the runes decided on their own, this time, based on feelings, not a sense of duty. Amel grew concerned with this, for if need may come to be, then the construct may not be able to leave one behind in order to save the other. Of course, Amel didn’t want for him to be left behind in case of peril, but his mom told him to take care of Femel, for he was the older brother and should do as such. So his sense of duty overlapped his feelings for self preservation.
Before he could think on how to deal with Om, the headaches would start stronger, pulsating through the shell of his brain. It started to bother him to a point where his thoughts would stop all of a sudden and the awareness of his surroundings would cease to come. It was the constant influx of information from the construct, the light which enhanced his mind and a bit of the relief which he let himself feel as they were safe and sound inside the farm’s house.
It was close, the moment for him to rest after all the chaos that took place, but he still had to ensure, that their food supplies were there. Where the three of them were, the entrance room, it went further ahead, then, with only the frame of the door in mind, to the right was another room at the back of the house. It was small and had stairs leading up to the next floor of the house. Below the stairs, where some farming tools and sacks of compost would be, below those was the latch to the underground room where the food supplies for selling and consumption were.
Amel swallowed dry. He still kept in mind that if a Master of Light was to think of this, they could’ve sneaked inside the house without leaving a mark or raising any suspicion. It would be bad if they found one such individual in that room, for he didn’t know how he would react to them being there, and if they would tolerate to at least leave them alone, let alone spare food. Worst case there could be, was if all the food was gone, for that meant they would have to either venture on some other farms, or into the forests some days away from where they were. If that came to be, he wasn’t sure Femel would make it, or him for that matter, as both of them were too young to last a journey of a few days without food, then learn to hunt and cook their own food.
Om placed itself on the floor, legs almost crossed, but not there since they were too round and thick to even touch at the bottom portion. Femel stood between its legs, trying to escape at times from the open prison, but being put back by Om with the grab of its two fingers from his clothes. Amel would first take out some toys from the room on the left, separated by a thick wooden door, where his father and him would eat dinner and talk like father and son. The room was devoid of life, only empty marble plates would sit on the table, the chairs out of order, for their mother didn’t have the occasion to return with Femel in need of someone to look after him. There were some other wooden furniture, and in a small stone container, there were his toys. His first construct was amongst them as well. Four stones, connected only by knots of rope. When he touched it, it had life once again. The smaller his constructs were, the faster the light faded from them, as it would be lost throughout the surroundings. But the memories and feelings he poured, were still lingering in a faded way.
The construct had pointless, useless memories and feelings, something which he didn’t understand when he made it, and neither could it understand. He didn’t want for that to change, for already too much has. So, he brought it back into the entrance room, and gave it to Femel to play with. He usually disliked giving things to Femel, since he would break them with ease. But these four stones, stumbling and falling around, couldn’t be broken even by him, and Om would keep watch of him to not break his toy before they even settled or left.
After that was done with, he headed towards the latch. He didn’t like what he felt. He would rather not open it, let Om do it, but besides the fact that Om couldn’t fit in that space, he also didn’t want to grow reliant on it, attached to it. Om was just another one of his ‘toys’. Even if it developed in a more complex manner, it still didn’t change the fact that it was a creation out of his own will. He had wondered if by giving it such complex memories and feelings, if he gave birth to a new being, those thoughts however, would be stomped by his father’s teachings, that he must be of a certain age before such things would be possible. He knew that he had to at least have a beard like his father, before he could create some new life of his own. His childish foolishness impeded him from understanding the act of his own creation.
With that in mind, he headed for the latch. Throwin to the side the farming tools and pushing with a lot of struggle the sacks, the latch stood before him. The lock on it was of no issue, he simply infused his light into the lock, and focused it at the locking mechanism. While he couldn’t give complex emotions and memories to something as durable and sturdy as metal, he could manage a really small portion, make it obey him and do as he wanted. It was one of his more basic applications of his ability, really useful in such cases. He would usually apply it to his father’s chest, which he hid from both his brother and him. There were some letters from a past love of his, which he didn’t want even their mother to know. But when Amel discovered and unlocked the chest, he didn’t hesitate to show them to his mother. The fond memory quickly washed away, as the lock snapped away from the latch.
The cold air from below inundated him once he pushed up the latch with some effort. There were wooden stairs leading down below, he followed them, and arrived on the cold stone. Barrels filled with smoked and salted meats, sacks of grain and wheat, fruits in wooden boxes, they were all there, not a thing missing. Amel finally sighed in relief, let himself touch the cold stone with his hands as he fell.
A sudden wave of pain and relief washed over him. His mind felt immense fatigue and pain, while his body could barely withstand the stress he had endured so far. Before he knew it, Amel fell into an unwilling slumber. In his sleep, he would run across the streets of Amouldes. He was tall and a bit skinny, holding a book in his hands, written by Amelor. Behind him was his brother and a girl his brother held hands with. His brother was taller, faster and his body rivalled that of his father in his youth. Their mom waved her old hand towards them, as their father held his back while hugging her from behind.
“Brother,” Amel woke up. The call of Femel from above. He saw him peeking, his head slowly letting gravity take over and, tud, he fell on the stone floor on his face. Amel jumped at him, scared that he might’ve injured himself, but nothing, when he picked him up, Femel was just giggling and laughing to see his brother was fine and awake. After that, his nose started to pick up the smell of the meats, fruits and other foods there were. He struggled against Amel’s clutches, freed himself and crawled to the foods, taking from it without a care for tomorrow. Amel didn’t bother trying to hold him back, there was plenty to last them for a long time. He climbed back up the stairs, looked outside, he fell asleep for some time, night was almost there.
Om was standing facing the front door. Once it knew Amel was behind, it turned its head. Although it had to face, but two gems for eyes through which the light coursed through, and the, sometimes glittering runes, Amel felt as if he could sense a smile from it. Was it because of the body language or the connection which they shared, he couldn’t tell. But Om was developing more complex feelings the longer his runes were able to interact. While its memory was limited due to the nature of runes, some core and very strong values were stored. That’s what worried Amel. If what it considered of utmost importance were the feelings, then its duty may come in second after everything else. That, he couldn’t allow, not for him and especially not for Femel. Even though they needed a parent to guide them and connect with them, what they needed most was a guardian.
Om could read Amel’s intentions through their connection. Its feelings, indeed, started to conflict with the imperial task which Amel imposed upon it. In the struggle which started between the runes and their many interactions, Amel took that time to close the gap between them. With a touch, he could reimpose his will upon it, this time, not clouded by his fascination for it and a clear goal, it wouldn’t be in question whether or not the construct will behave more like a guardian, Amel was starting to gain control over his powers at a rapid pace.
Once his hand almost touched the stone layer of the construct, Om stopped his hand with its own. Turning against the will of its creator in order to preserve what it thought to be the greatest asset it had, its feelings. Amel knew for sure, this would only bring trouble, so, he sent a strong influx of information from his side. Imposing his will meant a certain transfer of information from Amel to the constructs, and given the core principle behind it, Amel understood a further appliance of it: sudden surges of information sent in bursts. He was sure the runes would adapt to it if he did more than once, but since this was the first time, it overloaded the rune system, the sudden quantity of information required the full extend of the runes’ capacity to handle. And while it managed to adapt in just a few moments, it was more than enough for Femel to be able to touch Om and reimpose his will as intended upon it.
Once he did so, the warmth he felt coming from within Om, faded. It wasn’t the literal warmth, but that of his mom which both him and Femel, of which to a greater extent, confused it with. Amel felt like crying again, he felt like he lost whatever was left of his mother by his act. His lightfree mind became more alike to that of a child, and acted on impulse. He tried to reimpose his will upon it to give it his memories and feelings of his mother. But Om stopped him, like the first time, and the same surge of information wouldn’t work on the runes a second time, they adapted. The consequences of his actions were small in comparison to the results, for Amel though, it felt as if he did something bad. Even though he had his cold logic, he still had his childish impulses. Once he could better think and analyse what he did, he found the illogical within his actions. Trying to reverse your actions is not something feasible, if he couldn’t do it in his case, much less in the case of another, like the monster which took his family. A realisation imposed by the absolute state of reality.
As night befell the empty fields, Amel would start setting up precautions. Picking up twigs and stones from around the house, while keeping Om around and a wide eye for his surroundings, he assembled a small squadron of constructs. They were about the same height as Femel, and were only infused with basic motor skills. Their only attribute was the sense of duty for surveillance. He would let them run around the farm and house, given their small size, they could spread around and be hard to see. Thus enabling Amel to cast a net of surveillance around the farm’s perimeter, while able to sleep in peace with his brother. Om would be kept in the entrance room. Were there to be someone foolish enough to enter the house, Om would take the appropriate actions, and press them into submission or worse if they tried to fight back.
With all being set and done, Amel would indulge himself to eat some of the plentiful food there was available. Then, dragging Femel against the floor, who ate until he puked, up to the second floor where the master bedroom was, they fell asleep like rocks in a river.
The next morning came by. Amel waked up to his brother on his chest, hugging him and leaving drool all over his chest. He pushed him aside, placed the blanket over, and head down. Om was standing watch by the door as per intention, while the other constructs returned from time to time to give a simple nod or shake of their stone heads if they saw anything. Those which have seen anything, carried a bit more information, which only Amel could read. From the dozen of constructs he made, three of them have seen something. Upon further review, one saw a regal deer around a neighbouring farm, far away from its usual home. The second saw passing people, their faces drained from hunger, horror and fatigue. The third saw a shadow moving by the trees of the farm from the left side, Amel would consider the second and third, the first, while unusual, not something he knew whether it was as such or not.
He reimbued them with light, to resupply whatever was lost during the night. Then, Amel went behind the house, where a pile of logs was standing uncut, with Om. The axe was still stuck in the large bottom portion of a cut tree. Amel knew that in this world, he had to arm himself. Om was a powerful asset, but wasn’t meant for fighting or killing, which Amel needed. The age that was set before these kids, is something it shouldn’t have been allowed, yet there he stood, a young three years old kid, thinking of the best methods to arm himself and kill people. Amel would of course like to avoid killing anyone, but seeing as the people back in the city started to murder for food and resources, he would consider himself a fool if he wasn’t going to adapt to these circumstances. Om was ordered to leave for the other farms and look for rusted tools. While Amel knew he couldn’t make constructs out of metal, it didn’t mean he couldn’t learn how. His main issue with infusing his light into sturdier or harder materials, was the point of entrance. His light, at a microscopic level, enters the molecules of the materials and intricately coordinates them. The weaves of light act in such complexity, that the inorganic molecules, are brought to an almost cell-like life. In the case of Om, Mou didn’t have such an ability like Amel, so he had found a way through which he didn’t have to coordinate the molecules, but rather make his light control portions or segments of something. While it’s a much more simple and approachable way to make constructs, it is time consuming, as it would take a long while to both construct a suitable shape for the construct and inscribe the runes, which is an art in and of itself. It is why, besides Amelor, no one has been able to master the arts of the constructs.
Amel’s intricate nature of making constructs, could be said to be, much more unique and advanced than that of Mou. Besides him, it might be impossible for another to be able to accomplish the same, making him possibly the only person in the world able to create sentient constructs. The issue with his approach, however, is that he can’t, unlike Mou, use sturdier or harder materials without prior training in understanding them. And it is why he is in need of rusted tools. The gaps formed by the rust at a molecular level, will allow Amel to speed up his learning process. For if the food runs out by the time winter comes, he will still be but a young child with an infant brother, left to feed for themselves. So, making constructs of metal, out of his own design, would mean he will have access to powerful tools of both hunting and attack.
After Mou gathered all the rusted tools from around he could find, Femel woke up, making noise upstairs, then downstairs. Amel sent after him through Mou, while he took a look at the tools brought to him. Most were decently kep, only some rust at the portion where the wood handle met the iron. There were only some old sheers that would prove useful, rusted all across. He started to let his light course through the metal, closing his eyes to feel the patterns and a way to the core of it. A couple hours go by, no progress, still at the same level of lockpicking. When he opened his eyes, Om would just sit down in front in silence, Femel on top of its round head, watching confused his brother. Amel thought he maybe wasn’t interested in the weaves of light, he heard from his parents that not all kids are, which is why not all people are Masters of Light. But that wasn’t it, he moved his weaves around, see if he would at least follow the with his eyes, nothing.
This brought the attention of Amel, could he not see his weaves of light? He wasn’t tested before, like he was, but he should see the weaves, all babies and infants do. Due to their high perceptiveness, it’s much easier for a kid when is young to see the strands of light. If they grow older and don’t harness that skill, it is lost with time and hard to regain. However, there weren’t any cases were those of a young age, couldn’t see the weaves of light, it was unheard of, and that’s what Amel believed since he could remember, which wasn’t too long. But given his young age and inexperience, he wasn’t aware of just how uncommon that was for a human, to not be able to see that which unites them, the First Six and their Makers. He thought that maybe his parents just exaggerated or haven’t been anywhere beyond Amouldes.
After he was certain that his brother couldn’t see the weaves of magic, he returned to his training, but was then interrupted by one of the constructs. It came in a hurry, something urgent. Amel extracted the light from it to gain the information as fast as possible. A band of looters, they were going from farm to farm and stealing everything they found inside the houses, having filled sacks of food and weapons drenched in blood, some of it not older than a day. With the coming danger in sight, he willed Om back inside, carrying Femel on top of its head, then when entering the house with both its round hands. Amel panicked, he still didn’t know how to deal with such situations properly. The rootworm was just a wild beast, but humans were cunning, smart and could do things outside his range of expectations.
He didn’t have time to think, he heard them, laughing and talking as they stepped onto the farm’s lands. He quickly headed inside, willed Om to stand guard at the door, if either the front one or back one or some window were to be broken, it was up to Om to stop them by any means necessary, and if needed, crush them under his weight and kill them. Amel didn’t have time to think about the morality of things, survival for him and his brother is all that mattered, and to that extent, he was willing to do anything it was necessary of him.
“Heh, these farmers were really rich weren’t they?” Amel could hear one of them speaking just outside the walls of their house. He took Femel and headed below the Latch, putting the few constructs around the house to push the sacks and other things on top of it. One stumbled, making a thud and getting the attention of the looters outside. “Did you hear that? Was it from inside?” the same one asked.
“Probably some rat, hurry and open it, or I’m going kick this shit open,” another added, seemingly impatient for some reason. Om wouldn’t let them, standing as a dead weight in front of the door.
“I’ll be damned, the door just won’t budge,” the one trying to pick it up stated. Amel could barely hear them, but gathered whatever he couldn’t through Om by getting information of his surroundings. “Should we kick it down?” the one trying to open the door asked the others.
“Let me try,” another one, with a thicker voice and casting a larger shadow through the windows said. Slowly, Om was being shoved with the door, Amel panicked once more, whoever was pushing Om, was incredibly strong. Om wouldn’t let it be though, so he pushed against the floor, letting only a small crack through the door to be opened. The contradicting forces were so great, that the floor started to break below Om’s feet. The man ran out of breath and the door remained closed. “What in the Creator’s name? I should be able to lift a rootworm on one shoulder, yet this door… might it be the farm of a Master of Light?!” a sudden silence befell the area.
“No, just think about it. They spend their days in the libraries and at the Keep, why would one have a farm?” another, who seemed to be the leader assessed. “They might’ve hired one to reinforce these doors or something, that sounds about right,” he concluded.
“Do you think we should still try? There might be traps and the like, for bears you know?” the one who tried prior to open the door asked. There was silence again and then a bit of noise, like the kicking of ground and cursing.
“Imagine what’s inside though,” the leader started to rile up them, he seemed the determined kind. “If you go to such extent as to protect your house, there must be a lot of good stuff I say,” and given the time there were, it could be said that Amel and Femel had inherited one of the most valuable properties there were in Amouldes.
The large one spat the ground, brushed his hands, “Let’s do it then, I’ll open this door,” then, with a sudden forceful push, Om found itself in the next room, blasted through a wall and onto the floor. The one who pushed destroyed the door, fragmenting it. “What the-a construct?!” the one making the observation, called Omalk, started to panic upon seeing Om.
“Does that mean, this is one of Lord Mou’s properties?! We should run away before more of these constructs show up!” the one who tried to open the door at first, called Malour wanted to flee.
“Hey! Everyone, cool down,” the leader, by the name of Elmedes, said. “Lord Mou doesn’t make any constructs to harm others, have you all forgotten through this madness?” he reminded them, as he made his way inside, looking at Om. “Look at it, this one is not even a Build-” before he could finish, Om lifted himself up without any support from the back, almost as if puppeteered, and with a clasp of his hands, crushed the skull of the leader between the palms of his hands.
“Wh-what is going on?!” Malour was frightened to his core, standing in the doorway. Omalk saw what happened, and while disturbed, didn’t back away, instead, took his stance to take on Om, hands open, ready for it. “What are you doing?! Let’s run away, these constructs are possessed!”.
“Shut your damn mouth. I haven’t spent my days at the Beast Academy to be done in by some-” much like Elmedes, before Omalk could finish, Om leaped in an unnatural way, too graceful for its four metres tall body and thick frame. Omalk tried to respond to this aerial tackle, but it was in vain, Om had some experience with larger creatures, so for it, Omalk was like the baby of a rootworm, once upon him, crushing him between its arms. His spine made a crunchy noise, while blood erupted from all points of his body. Horrified by the onslaught, Malour started to run away, in a desperate attempt to escape. However, in the fields, the remaining constructs out for scouting, gathered. It wasn’t upon Amel’s will, but of their own accord, the small bits of memories and feelings infused into them, producing results of their own at a slower pace. Which culminated in them being willing to sacrifice their bodies in order to protect Amel.
“What is going on?! What are these things?! Get off me!” he was desperately grabbing at them and throwing them in all directions, stepping on top of some and destroying their rope held body. While they couldn’t stop him, it was enough for Om to catch up. Om was looming over him, more than twice his height and eyes made of gems which could only see the danger posed to its creator. “Wa-wa-wai-” splash. Om clasped its hands, drenched in blood and bone, it let the body of Malour fall on the ground. The remaining constructs gathered around and took the body away, carrying it outside the farm. They did the same for the other two bodies, Om helping them. They didn’t want him to see it again, that which he hated. It was ingrained in the feelings Amel would always imbue subconsciously, and this would make the constructs form the idea that, besides the physical harm, the trauma which he lived, must be avoided.