“Awoken are those people who gained power in the face of adversity, who were baptized in trauma and forged in the crucibles of defeat. 

This is their Harrowing, the lowest point of their lives, their worst day ever: the trigger event for their aura to Awaken. 

From the ashes, they arose stronger than ever, able to use their aura to bend the very worlds around them to their will.”

Master of Poems

Dante Nostradamus

Chapter 1

Becca moved through the crowd, just one face among many. Her hair was hidden under a frayed toboggan, her body under baggy, worn clothes. Head down, she passed through the crowded square. Just another tourist, or maybe even a beggar. Nobody important.

She wore a half-grin, unable to completely contain her happiness.

Clouds dotted the sky, a soft fog filling the square. Warmly colored leaves littered the ground, smoke rising from various fireplaces. The air was cool and crisp, the harbinger of winter in the dying days of autumn, sunlight and drizzle lazily arguing back and forth across the entire Citadel.

Becca took in a deep breath, a pleasant sea of aroma hitting her nose. Flowers and fruits grew along every path, small cafes and restaurants were open for evening shoppers.

Her steps slowed somewhat, her smile widening a fraction. Still, she continued on.

The Citadel was a flying fortress, forever watching over the Capitol below. It had enough people living on it to be considered a second city. Some said it was the true seat of power for the Grand Kingdoms Alliance; others said it gave Albion far too much influence over the Alliance. It depended on if you asked someone from Albion or not.

Currently Becca was in Unity Plaza, in the perpetual shadow of the Radiant Cathedral of the Sacrosanct Covenant: the dominant religion of the Alliance, despite there being no officially state-sponsored religion. The square was always bustling with traffic, between tourists and merchants and diplomats and clergy moving every which way. The Citadel had people of every nationality, ethnicity, race, religion, creed, species, gender, sex, orientation, class, etc.

Becca watched them all, even moving through the crowd as she was.

Several tourists needed to gasp for air, leaning against walls or sitting on benches. A few of the less ‘altitudinally gifted’ races used oxygen tanks to deal with the extreme elevation: dwarves, gnomes, and drow. Merfolk, undines, and similar seafolk used water tanks for much the same reason.

In another world, Becca could see herself preying on that weakness, stealing wallets and purses. Ah, but she’d be caught by that salamander, who’d immediately call for the guards- 

She smiled and blinked very slowly, even as she dismissed the possibility. 

The Citadel hung in the air, so high up that looking over its edge would show clouds below, typically obscuring the Capitol from view. It was connected to the world-sphere by an enormous chain of wondermetal; otherwise it would shoot off into the horizon.

Becca had no problem with the thinner air, and as such, slipped through the crowds with only soft glances at the tourists. None noticed her.

A monumental fountain dominated the center of the square, a geyser of water and shimmering rainbows in the sparse afterglow of the setting sun. It was a work of Unity, a master sculptress known for her works in the name of the Sacrosanct Covenant; the statues at the fountain’s center showed the Founders during the Unification Accords: a human, elf, dwarf, and giant stood united, facing outward in battle stances against an unseen, surrounding enemy.

Becca knew the stories; everyone knew the stories, of what the Founders had fought against. There was no need to enshrine that horror in statue form. In fact, doing so was forbidden: any image or depiction of the Ancient Enemy was purged from Alliance lands with extreme prejudice.

Still, Becca was idly curious about why such a Law would be in place.

Regardless, that magnificent fountain and shrine to the Founders, was Becca’s destination. She reached it with beats to spare. Her face split into a huge grin.

“Told ya I could do it, Conor,” she whispered.

The scrawny boy who was already standing there smiled back at her, looking at her baggy sweatshirt with obvious greed. 

“Fifty heartbeats, five wallets. Now you have to let me join.” 

Conor’s smile dimmed, though his eyes never left her. He scratchily said, “They should start noticing any second, so we should-“

“Get going?” came a soft, deep voice from behind her. A giant hand came to a rest on her shoulder. A shadow loomed over her.

Becca nearly jumped out of her skin. Conor, who somehow hadn’t noticed someone following her, immediately ran away, not even looking back.

“Coward!” was all she could summon the effort to say, before she was spun around to face her accuser.

Ah. Should’ve paid more attention. How was this gonna go?

The man holding her shoulder was middle aged, but burly. He wore the grey robes of a priest, which blended well with his grey beard. An enormous black umbrella was opened over his head, blocking out all water and light from the outside world. Her heart sank; this was her very last victim. 

Deny. Deny everything.

Becca wrenched backward, squirming and calling out loudly, “Unhand me at once! I’ll scream if you-“

His eyes glowed green. 

Glowing eyes were called ‘nova’ for they were orbs of power marking their owners as Awoken.

Her efforts slowed to a crawl, as his brilliant glare bathed her face in emerald heat. This man was Awoken, possessing aura which granted him supernatural abilities. Thus, the smartest course of action she could take would be to…

Becca panicked.

She suddenly twisted with all her might, but his grip held. Her foot came up in a powerful kick right on his groin-

An ugly snap filled her ears, followed by an even uglier yelp of pain. 

Stars and blackness filled her vision as her foot smashed into what felt like a solid steel battering ram. Nearly falling down, she couldn’t escape his grip; he didn’t let her fall.

Was her foot broken?

The smart thing would’ve been to never cross his path in the first place. If only. But how could she know the priest would have superpowers?

His nova flashed even brighter green. With a voice that felt like an avalanche rolling down a mountain, he commanded, “Return the property you stole.”

She could only nod weakly at that, shakily retrieving his wallet from within the confines of her sweater. He put it back in his pocket, one hand still gripping her shoulder.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

“Return all the property you stole.” Becca slumped down in defeat. “You have fifty heartbeats. That’s fair, no?” Her head jerked up, her eyes staring into his. 

“H-how long were you watching us?”

Letting go of her shoulder, he ignored her question and advised, “I’d move quickly, girl. They’ll notice your sins soon if you don’t. The coward was right about that, at least.” He sat down on the edge of the fountain, watching her, his umbrella idly spinning over his head.

Luckily, his umbrella stopped anyone from noticing their quarrel.

Becca looked back across the crowd, at the four other individuals she stole wallets from. She bit her lip, her eyes flitting back and forth; they were even further apart. Her eyes closed, a long breath left her lips, and her shoulders relaxed.

There was no running away from this on her ruined foot. There was no hiding from the man when she didn’t even know what his power was, though he could shrug off a kick to the cock just fine (which certainly narrowed the possibilities for what he could do down). There was definitely no fighting the man off.

With only a nod, she left him behind, limping as she went.

The pain in her foot was sharp. She couldn’t put any weight on it. “How the Void am I supposed to…” but even as she asked the impossible of herself, an enormous black umbrella clattered next to her, leaning against her hip.

Looking back, Becca saw the man still sitting serenely on the fountain, sans umbrella, flecks of fountain spray finally reaching him.

He raised an eyebrow, though otherwise did nothing. His nova were no longer burning, though they still had a green shine.

Forty three beats left… She smiled a hard smile at him, and set off on her mission. Using an umbrella as an impromptu crutch wasn’t exactly how she imagined her day would go, but she quickly came to terms with events as they were. If anything, she shouldn’t have kicked an Awoken at all. 

Despite the continuous throbbing in her foot, or the threat of potential punishment looming over her head, Becca felt a strange sense of exhilaration coursing through her veins.

Life’s challenges were her favorite part of living. And for once, the consequences were dire.

_______

John twisted through the night sky, his flight path too jagged. It hurt, but no more than his bruised ribs or black eye. Or the deep cut in his hip.

He couldn’t keep this up. Flying was too hard.

Woozy and weak, he was too cold. He’d flown through too many clouds; his stolen legionnaire armor felt more like a frosted coffin than protective gear.

The world-sphere’s curvature was readily apparent to him, as high up as he was. If it were daytime, he would’ve been able to see how the lands were divided between the greens of farmlands, woodlands, and meadows; rivers and roads crisscrossed the land, only visible via reflected moonlight; and there were only small settlements and villages in these rural lands, nestled between the rolling hills.

But it was nighttime.

John only barely saw his hands in front of his face, let alone the world below him or the nearby skylands.

His eyes burned golden light, his pupils shaped like spades. He needed to get to… he needed to go… he couldn’t think straight…

Damn. Couldn’t remember where go? Oof. Thoughts getting bad. Where?— Breathing? Barely. Seeing? Fuzzzzy.— Yellow light in cliffside. Yellow light good? Probably. Usually.

Get closer. Light from cave. In the sky? Dunno, whatever. Go inside. Light from rock. Ayy yellow rock good. Surrounded by monsters? Touch it? Yes, grab it. Go in super fast, get out even faster.

He did it!

Yellow light warm. 

It felt good. 

It felt really good. 

He felt better. 

His thoughts came more naturally. 

Was he getting over a concussion? 

…

It felt like it, but he still wasn’t completely sure. 

The golden light wasn’t actually… light, in the strictest sense. He perceived it as light, sure, and it had qualities which he would define as ‘yellow’ but it was something else.

Aura.

The yellow aura wasn’t exactly healing him, that much was certain. Actually, it helped him ignore the injuries he’d sustained this far. He could better focus on the task at hand.

It was a corestone, extracted from the fresh corpse of a beast. It produced a steady flow of aura; it’s color, yellow, corresponded with his own newly Awoken aura. That was absurdly lucky. 

His ribs weren’t better. He took a deep breath without wincing. His leg wasn’t healed either. But he could ignore the pain far easier with the help of the yellow corestone.

Now where was he? The last thing he remembered was being tied to a pole, a firing squad aiming at him, and then… He’d stopped the bullets. His executioners came at him with bayonets. Those weren’t anymore effective. His manacles exploded, and he grabbed one of the men by his helmet-

Oh. 

That wasn’t a pleasant memory. At all. But then he’d escaped his execution and flown off into the sunset. 

… And now he was a criminal. Actually, he’d likely been labeled an outlaw by now. Which meant a substantial bounty hung over his head.

“Shit,” he groaned, though he felt physically fine.

He saw movement out of the corner of his eye.

Standing in the mouth of the cave he’d just vacated was an enormous bird, gleaming in the moonlight. It was a Stymphalian Skarmory: a giant, man-eating, bird-shaped Beast of razor-sharp metal. It’s eyes burned with a harsh yellow glow.

It screamed. It’s harsh metallic siren reverberated, scraping the inside of John’s skull.

Then hundreds of other Skarmories took up the call, an earsplitting cacophony which flushed cold fear down his spine.

He brandished his stolen sword and stolen shield, storing the stolen brightstone safely in the stolen coin pouch along his stolen belt.

He’d stolen a lot of stuff in the past two hours.

The Skarmories launched from the cliffside towards him, an army of metallic, golden-eyed death.

“Double shit.”

_______

“I’m impressed.” The words came easily, a jovial tone that’d been wholly lacking from their previous interaction. The giant of a man was smiling behind his graying beard, his nova no longer scouring her soul.

Her dormant eyes met his awakened nova, and she refused to look away

Becca found herself angrily grinning, despite her previous terror. “Who cares if you’re impressed?” A harsh gesture escaped her arm, vaguely indicating the self-inflicted injury of her foot. “I won’t be able to…”

As her words trailed off, her bitter smile deepened.

A gust of wind blew through the square, colorful autumn leaves swirling among the population. Several fell into the fountain, clumping together. Clockwork custodians would fish it out later, once curfew entered effect.

The man’s answering smile was far too smug for her liking. “You returned all four wallets within the allotted time, remembering who your marks were and tracking them down, all with the additional handicap of a sprained ankle. And you were smiling the whole time. At least, until you came back.”

“I’m smiling right now, aren’t I?”

He tilted his head, stroking his beard as if in deep thought. “No. Not like you were before. That look on your face right now, the one you’re wearing and showing consciously to the world… it’s a lie, no?”

Becca turned away from this man she didn’t even know, observing the crowded plaza. 

Brilliant marble statues lined the open space, many depicting the Covenant’s saints. The stonework was beautiful and intricate, lifelike depictions of the various martyrs and warriors whose deaths were remembered even centuries later. Plaques underneath identified who they were, and what they did that was so important.

They were more works of Unity.

Her attention left the artwork, turning to the upscale restaurants and high-end stores encircling the square.

A young couple was sharing a quiet date at a small cafe, huddled close together. They laughed at some joke known only to them, the woman’s scarf catching the breeze. Her mug came to her lips, steam coiling ever upward from it. The boy reached out, tucking her hair back behind her ear, his fingers gently lingering on her cheek for just a moment.

Becca looked away, her lips suddenly painful. Jealousy ached her something fierce.

As time went on, and no more words were said, she grew bored. Leaning against the fountain, Becca jutted the umbrella out at him. “I appreciate your words, but-“

“Keep it,” he said, cutting her off and pushing the proffered umbrella back at her. “It’ll be more useful to you than it’s ever been to me. And… I want you to have a reminder of this moment.”

The would-be thief stared down at the umbrella for a few heartbeats. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, before she wordlessly pulled it back.

“Why?”

He looked at her, then up at the sky. His gaze became faraway before he answered, “You remind me of someone I used to know. And you have Talent. Dormant talent, to be sure, but talent nonetheless…”

She stared at him, watching as he drummed his fingers and tapped his foot. He finally met her gaze again, the diamond shape of his pupils softly rotating. It was oddly mesmerizing.

And she’d kicked this man?

Internally berating herself, she didn’t notice him put out a hand until it almost engulfed hers in a very firm grasp. 

“My name is Victor,” he growled. “And I’d like to help you.”

Becca snapped back to reality, hyper-focusing on the man shaking her hand. “Help me how? And why, exactly?”

Victor chuckled, leaning back enough to be hanging slightly over the fountain’s pool. Stretching out like bear after hibernation, the bones throughout his spine and arms all clicked and popped. With a groan, he leaned forward again, his green eyes piercing hers.

His eyes flashed green, and she felt his aura.

Becca felt her foot twitching and snapping and-

It was healed. 

She blinked very slowly.

His hand left her, his work finished. “Now if you could-“

She turned tail and ran away. Perhaps, in a world where she was more daring, she would’ve stayed…

_____

Knight Alexandria Vermillion paced along the narrow corridor of her airship, a harsh scowl marring her face.

“Listen up! John Butcher is an escaped fugitive. He’s an outlaw. He was dishonorably discharged from the Knight Force for insubordination and attempted murder of his commanding officer. His failed execution became his Harrowing. Now he’s a Yellow Awoken. Our job is to reapply his execution with a bit more firepower,” said Alexandria.

Misty, one of her spearwomen, frowned. “Captain, I really don’t think we should-“

“Captain Justeaze is in long-term care at Saint Mary’s. I’m still his Lieutenant. Just a Lieutenant; I’m not the Captain. And we’re gonna put Private Butcher down if it’s the last thing I ever do. Am I understood?”

Geralt, a swordsman, cut-in, “Right, but John’s still one of our own-“

“He betrayed us. He betrayed the kingdom. He needs to die,” said Tony, another swordsman.

“Oh that’s such bull-“

They all started talking at once, but Alexandria cut through the heated words. “This is not a discussion. Our course isn’t up for debate. These are our orders, and we’ll carry them out. Hell, even if there wasn’t any orders, I’d still go after that traitor.”

“But Cap-“

“CAPTAIN!” came pilot’s voice over the intercom. “You’ve gotta see this.”

Alexandria ressed a button on her helmet, opening up a scryline to the cockpit. “What is it?”

“Uhhh. Look out a window?”

She huffed, but did as she was told. And as she did, she saw the very target of their search barreling right towards them. Ordinarily this would’ve been a delight to Alexandria, but this was not looking to be a fortunate event.

Her jaw dropped, as she witnessed hundreds of B-Class Beasts chasing after her own quarry, himself flying right for their airships.

“Are those… birds?” asked a swordsman, one a little slow on the uptake.

“Not… quite...” Alexandria hefted her warhammer onto her shoulder, a harsh frown splitting her face. Her lips twitched upwards at the corner, if only for a second. She walked over to a drop hatch, a brilliant crimson glow erupting from her eyes.

“Our new, more immediate objective? Defend the airship,” said Alexandria, before pulling a helmet over her head. “And if possible, kill John.”

Then, the airship’s door opened, and the woman in full plate mail stepped into the abyssal skies below them.