The Celestial Forge
By: Schin Ka’Tharos
CHAPTER 2
I did not seek power, I only sought to hold onto peace. But they came and tore that away from us. So I sought their death and an end to my pain.
When my grandfather was murdered, it had only been half of a year since I had returned home from my age of traveling journey.
You may be familiar with the age of traveling as in most continents and across many cultures it is the common name given to the ubiquitous phenomenon. Even in Krevat they speak of The Traveling. However, in case you were ill taught or you come from a Sect that refuses to acknowledge it, the age of travelling occurs for most after they have seen sixteen to twenty summers. It is in one part tradition and one part a law of nature, a phenomenon in which the turning of the world calls the soul to wander or explore, a burgeoning insatiable need pulling each individual to embark on a journey. Most heed the call, some do not. I have never met a soul that did not regret leaving the call unanswered.
Certainly there is much to say on my five years abroad on my own Traveling but this is not that story and I cannot do the tale justice within these pages. In short, my grandfather had encouraged me to sail southeast across the Tilted Sea for my Traveling, and explore the continent of Jaspen, where they eat not of the Celestial Rain and know not of the Arcane. In Jaspen I continued my studies in Jun’Dok and The Way and suffered many trials but gained lifelong friends. If interest holds, my old friend Sho’har of The Seven has compiled the tale of my Traveling into his writings on this age and you can find them at any of the Severed Sky Libraries.
I had come back from my journeys in Jaspen in my twenty fifth summer, progressed in knowledge, experiences, temperament, stature, and skill. More than anything, though, I had come to see the true wisdom in my upbringing and my grandfather's ways, and I solidified his teachings within my ethos.
Uncle Cyio had not shown his presence in over a half a year, well before my return from Jaspen, an unusual but not unprecedented absence. Even so my grandfather had remained in good spirits, bolstered by my return. I had resumed my life and tutelage under grandfather with fervor, wishing both to enjoy my time with him and glean from him. We fell back into our old routines easily and it became the most comfortable and enriching times. I look back on these months fondly and view them as some of the best days I’ve lived.
Life was such when calamity befell us, and thus, I suppose, the entirety of the world.
That day started like all others spent with grandfather, rising well before light and immediately entering into meditation, Forging, and katas. For me, I most looked forward to the katas, although upon my return I had found myself falling deeper into meditation than I ever had before. Katas were an old friend though and I had always felt more alive when physically engaged.
Jun’Dok is a martial art my grandfather had taught me since my earliest days. Over the years I had deduced that he was one of the founders of the martial art though he would never explain his involvement in its origins nor the history behind it, always turning attention to the art itself.
“Focus on what you are to become. You are forming yourself into the image of battle and violence. War itself is imbued within you. However, you are not brutal but a flowing elegance, a raging water harnessed into a river. This is not achieved by means as one builds a house, but rather as one builds a mountain or the sky.”
We were in the middle of a Jun’Dok kata next to the early morning fire when my grandfather abruptly fell to one knee and sharply looked to the North, concern etched across his face. I cannot impart to you how deeply this unsettled me at the time. Never in all our years together had grandfather shown any semblance of weakness or apprehension in the slightest, save for his desire to see Uncle. He was a pillar of unwavering confidence, strength and self assuredness, traversing the world as if he were its king. To see him falter in that moment unnerved me to my core.
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He wavered only briefly, for in response he rose from the ground to stand stalwart, and his face solidified into the embodiment of resolute strength. He was adorned in simple plain magus robes of gray, the only color coming off of a simple necklace he wore of dull yellow. Simple in appearance but commanding in presence.
“They’ve finally come” My grandfather muttered to himself, barely audible.
A ripple of unseen energy crashed through the world around us, resetting and warping the very fabric of reality, altering it to a degree indiscernible to my senses. It was not of my grandfather, but rather what he had sensed coming from the North.
Breaths later eight figures materialized before us, hovering above the landscape a mere fifty paces away and a stone's throw high in the sky. Their collective presence crushed me like a mountain and sent me to my knees. The weight of the overwhelming pressure induced a dreamlike drunken stupor within me, but I will recount what I can of what transpired.
The eight waited there and looked down on us, spread apart subtly into a few groups.
Grouped to the right, three figures stood together. A broad chested middle aged man with traditional Magus cloaks of soft yellows and blues. Next to him, a hooded figure shrouded in shadow under a dark brown cloak which dripped like rotten honey. At the head of the two stood a lady dressed in flowing silks that shone of pearl, she spoke first and was calm and serene in both voice and demeanor.
“Hail brother Jian, it has been far too many years since we have seen each other, Blightbringer. It seems you have found some years of peace.”
My Grandfather stood unhindered and untouched by any pressure or power forced upon us, and met her gaze with his usual sense of dominion.
“Greetings, Moonseeker, another thousand years would have been too short. I am honestly surprised to see you among those who came.”
“The future is shaped by the unpredictable” Was her simple reply, her face a tranquil pond of undisturbed emotion.
Another voice cut in, from a short slender woman covered in a form-fitting scaled armor of varied colors.
“Oh, don't be like that First One, I have missed you ever so much. Do you know how long I’ve looked for you? After you disappeared things just weren't the same, I became lonely and so very bored after a few hundred years. So, I’ve been searching for you ever since. Plus we have some...unfinished business you and I.”
Most notable was her serpentine eyes which held a deep cruelty. She was flanked by three guards, all three bearing the same black scaled armor covering their bodies, save for their hands and forearms which were wrapped in bandages. Their eyes too were yellow serpentine slits.
“I’ve come to know of many of your deeds over the centuries, Thei’esolla, and I assure you, your presence would not have been welcome nor long suffered. I am no longer the man you knew.” my Grandfather replied.
A man standing apart from all others spoke then. He was covered head to toe in dull gray armor that shifted and changed shape before my eyes. His words had the shape of a smile behind them and as he spoke his palm opened face up. A small black dot appeared above his hand and then inverted into a large object the size of a man's head.
“Jian, you seem to need a little pick me up, the Arcane is barely perceptible within you. It is pitiable. It hurts me to see you like this old pal. If I had to venture a guess I’d say you haven't Forged any Arcane essence at all in the past thousand years.”
A large thud resounded in my ears and I turned my attention from the visitors to notice a large rock that had landed at my Grandfather's feet. After closer inspection I realized the object the man had tossed was a large piece of Celestial Rain. It thrummed with a violet glow nearly all of the Ore’s essence singularly Arcane with no visible signs of impurities.
Up to that point in my life I had seen my fair share of the coveted ore that falls from the heavens, grandfather had even shown me some himself during our lessons on the topic in my youth. In your lands it may be known as Celestial Rain, Ore Essence, manna, heavenly shards etc. Most of the Celestial Rain shards I had seen were in the E to low D Tier, and the one C Tier I had encountered was owned by the Grand Elder of a powerful Sect in Jaspen. That C Tier Ore was primarily of Celestial essence and the impressive clarity and “large” size, similar to that of a large grape, had earned it a C(+)2 rating. Here, the “gift” laid before my grandfather was beyond the scope of anything I had ever heard whispers of. Before us, flippantly thrown to the earth lay a S(-)1 Tier Arcane Ore, priceless and legendary in its rarity.
My grandfather paid it no heed, not even stealing a glance at the treasure.
“I no longer Forge the Arcane, I am no more a slave to it's call. Please, begone from my home, there is a reason this giant sleeps.”
“Come now Jian, we came all this way and Thei’esolla searched so long for you. Is this really the hospitality you want to show to other Ascended?" The armored man responded, cocking his head sideways.
“Ah, but maybe Jian’s young companion will be more...accommodating.” Thei’esolla said. She turned to me, her slitted eyes gleamed desire as a smirk crept across her face. “Who might you be, young man?
Next Chapter...
CHAPTER 3: What A Great Fool I Was, For There Were Many Things I Should Have Known.