Journal of Fire Entry 1, continued (Atrein Diablon)

Year 0 A.D., The First Day of Winter - Krotrean, Ertore

My morning ritual was unlike any other in Rania, for I mustered no prayer to a god or goddess, and when I opened my eyes, no family was around me. Instead, I dove into an hour-long workout in what was a glorified closet. The sun was still sleeping, and my murky window let through no light, but that could not stop me. I saw myself in my mirror quite well. A simple twitch of my left eye gave me sight that could cut through even the thickest darkness as if it were daytime. When my left eye was in this state, it looked similar to an animal's eye, giving off a mysterious sheen.

After stretching my legs and arms well, I dropped into the push-up position and began spewing out an endless stream of push-ups. The wind outside raged against the side of my house, but I used the noise as cover. When I heard the wind pick up, I'd exhale and inhale. I hoped this intermittent breathing would help Craytar and Seimn's sleep go uninterrupted, but the task of waiting for the wind to pick up and timing my breathing to it proved to be a fun game. Around the 180 push-ups mark, I felt my pectoral muscles begin to weep in agony, but I managed to hit my goal. I grinned as I reached 210 push-ups in a row, which was a new record.

If the wealthiest man in Ertore paid me to, I still could not explain what had been happening to my body over the past three months. I would have chosen metamorphosis if asked to describe it with only a word. I always was among the stronger of my peers, but my strength rapidly increased out of nowhere. 4 months ago, I could hardly do 80 push-ups in a row. Perhaps the most significant change I noticed was my eyes. At first, I thought my right eye was deteriorating, but that was far from the truth. In reality, it was adjusting its perception of the world around me. Now, I could see the essence of everything through my right eye: soul. My left eye began improving its perception of the physical world, and I could see much further and in greater detail through it. The divergence of my eyes was something I left out on my health evaluations, and I planned on keeping their secrets to myself.

As light crept through my blood-red window, I twitched my left eye off and felt immediate relief. Though night vision was terrific, it proved to be costly. Overuse of it brought intense headaches and fatigue. I stood up and wiped a thin layer of sweat from my brow before getting dressed for the day. First, I slid on some questionably dirty socks before shaking my feet into a pair of rugged and stained brown boots. I let out a sigh as I forced on the dreaded red armbands. The friction from putting the coarse arm bands on chaffed my arms, but they did this to everyone. The priests claimed it helped wake up one's mind in the early morning and remind us of our duties. I doubted any of us in the city needed more reminders, though. The armbands lit up in a dull red glow, giving me just enough light to see clearly. The fabric of the armbands began to interweave and flow in a mesmerizing pattern of triangles as they slowly constricted, but I ignored them for now. I'd be giving my fair share of praise when I felt like it. Next, I became swallowed by my thick red robe, which held a slight musk of burnt leather. I felt grateful for it today, for the cold was invasive.

Before leaving my room, I ran a brush through my hair. I envied Seimn and Craytar, for they had soft, flowing hair. Mine was coarse and black. I attempted to make my hair presentable, but I gave up once the clump on the top of my forehead was tactically dangling to the side. I gave the mirror a final glance, and I remembered something as I stared at the man in the mirror. It was the first day of winter, so it was also my twenty-first birthday. My thoughts broke through for a few seconds, and I became bitter. The twenty-first birthday was known as a man's inheritance day. Yet I had nothing to inherit. Should Craytar have wanted, his father would happily hand over the family business. Then a sparkle of metal behind me caught my attention, and the bitterness faded.

I slowly walked over to a nail on the wall near my door. On it hung the only remnant of my past, a silver chain studded with diamonds that held up a solid orb of yellow mineral with a swirling, wave-like pattern. It was deceitfully heavy, which is something I appreciated. It reaffirmed that I had a past and that the past still carried some weight in the present.

I could not remember much about my necklace, but I knew it came from my mother. I lifted it and fastened it across my neck. I wore it out of sight and out of mind throughout the day, but I could always feel its presence. The fact that no one had spotted it yet astounded me, but it was a welcome blessing. It would have been taken from me, for it was a remnant of the Diablon horde, the most hated people in Rania. I stuffed the yellow orb into a small cut I made in the innermost layer of my robe, around the chest area. It kept the ornate jewelry from bouncing or producing unwanted sounds.

As I walked out my door, mental exhaustion hit me. I knew deep down that the norms and rules of Krotrean, the city I had in most of my life, were killing me. I had arrived in this city as a small boy who had just seen his entire family slaughtered and no longer had a place to belong. For the first 14 years, I tried my best to fit in. The bullying and ostracization never ended, and I felt like a ghost living for those who did not appreciate me. This lack of appreciation sent me down the descent to apathy. I was in the top 3 of my class at the Youth Academy of Krotrean. That's where all the kids in the city learned about Arterion and how to serve him. However, when Career Day came around, I was not chosen to be an entrepreneur, priest, or military man. I sat there in my seat and watched a countless number of my peers who scored lower on the daunting series of final tests find niches in some of the most highly envied and praised positions. I realized that those within the church and academy intended for me not to have any significance. Despite acing every test, both mentally and physically, they refuted all of my applications.

I slipped into the lowliest employment: a church laborer. I sunk to the bottom of the church's barrel, and they shipped me to The Line. Despite announcing all names in order of ranking in the final tests, they placed my name last. The grand priest of Krotrean had a boom in his voice to the very end.

When he yelled, "Roy Xanthro," all had risen and given a cheer and a complimentary round of applause.

"Last but not least, Atrein Diablon: the third-ranked graduate. He shall be taking a position as a church laborer," the grand priest muttered before beginning the closing ceremony. At that moment, I went numb. My heart raced, and a powerful silence overtook the crowd. I forced myself to focus on a spot on the ceiling, and I left my eyes open. The pain was dangerously stinging, one that I knew would never depart. I failed at focusing, and I let my eyes scan some of those around me. I saw what I expected.

Their eyes held flat indifference. A few even stifled laughs, but it was not noiseless. The grand priest forewent the usual pause for applause as he had for all other names. Then I heard a familiar voice give a cheer. The attention quickly went from me to Craytar, and I felt relief pour over me. I strained as I fought back tears while many shook their heads in disgust. The grand priest paused his closing remarks. Craytar's cheer and claps echoed through the silent ceremony for a few more seconds before he took a seat. That night had been tough, but my best friend had pulled through for me at his own humiliation. It was a humiliation I knew that he endured every day. It was silent, but one could feel it in every interaction. I knew that Craytar recognized that being the only Diablon left alive was a massive burden on my shoulders. Craytar had watched as I fought hard for every scrap of my existence.

"And now here we are," I mumbled, resigned to whatever fate was speeding my way.

As I stepped out of my room, I heard shouts and laughter from Seimn and Craytar, with whom I shared my tiny home. Their wedding was in a few days, and the last week had been bliss and joyful for them. They were gifted two days off to celebrate, which was a rarity even for wedding couples in Krotrean. When I walked into the kitchen, they both turned to face me. Seimn's smile faded, but Craytar's widened.

"And the pretty boy is up; Happy Birthday!" Craytar said.

"Morning, and thanks," I said with a slight grin. Craytar's energy always enlightened those near him. I scooped up a napkin and fork before tearing up a small gray blob that was supposed to be breakfast. It was rectangular and had a slightly fishy odor. I knew it was a concoction made by the mages of Krotrean, but they kept its production a secret. It was a creation that preserved resources and followed one of the simplest rules of Arterion, the god of time, who reigned over Ertore. The saying went, 'hungry dogs hunt best.'

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

This phrase was open to interpretation, but Barter the Fifth upheld his father's view. His view was that "Hungry Dogs" were all citizens of Ertore and that "hunt best" referred to the quality of work they produced. Therefore, rationing food was all the rage.

I managed to scarf down my breakfast in a meager four bites, and I wiped my mouth with the backside of my right hand, leaving some grease on it. After that, there was nothing left to do but watch Craytar and Seimn chat. They were both cheerful, but I knew a mutual awkwardness was lounging above our kitchen table. Yesterday Craytar had broken the news to Seimn and me that he had received a bonus for assisting his brother in some job related to the church. The statement had sent direct messages to both me and Seimn, and not a word more was said. Seimn was soon to have her wish come true, and I would quickly find myself alone in a home I could not afford.

Initially, we could only afford the house due to my and Seimn's hefty salaries, as we were two of the best workers in The Line. With money not being an issue, I knew it was only a matter of time before they would purchase their own place. Then I'd be out on the streets and into even worse accommodations. The looming separation was a crushing blow to the only friendship I'd ever known, but I knew deep down this day had been unavoidable.

My friendship with Craytar was one of deep brotherhood and friendship, and it stemmed from the time I saved his life. An ancient building on the northeast side of town, where we lived together in the Sen house, collapsed above Craytar. In that instant, I acted before I thought, revealing my true power to him. I threw my arms up, and a heatwave of my soul sprouted into an arching brace above Craytar. Craytar had looked up in fear, and above him were tons of stone blocks mere from his face. He sat there in awe before scurrying out of the way.

I was only five, but I managed to hold it there for several seconds as Craytar escaped. The young Craytar had been perplexed, for most magic was visible, but he saw nothing holding up the collapsing building. He did tell me later that the air suddenly grew hot around him. That day, someone learned the truth about my magic: that I did not use arcane energy.

From that moment forward, Craytar became very fond of me, and he became my only true friend. I had finally found an ally. After that day, our bond remained strong throughout childhood. We competed against each other, and our skills and academics were among the best in our class. Being the adoptive child of the Sen house turned out to be both a blessed and a curse. I enjoyed an upbringing in a more comfortable setting than most within Krotrean, for Mr. Sen was a prosperous business owner. However, this only added to the hate against me, who had it so well while true Ertorians suffered harsher conditions.

Most people believed Craytar would take over the family business, but his thirst for combat, simplicity, and defending his homeland reigned supreme in his mind. He volunteered to be both a guard for the military and a worker in The Line. He got both positions while I was assigned to be a church laborer.

"Atrein, we are about to sing some prayers. Want to lead us today?" asked Seimn, feigning politeness.

"No, but thank you, Seimn," I responded.

I gave them the sincerest smile I could muster before turning around and heading to the door. I quickly lifted the door and pushed it out. The next instant, I was greeted by the chill winter air as it swept through the narrow alleyway. I popped a squat on the steps leading to the entrance. The cold wind picked up enough to make my ordinarily stationary hair move, and I watched my breath create a massive, warm cloud of steam that drifted upwards.

I rested there for a few moments as I felt an internal pressure crush my heart. Whatever was going on inside me was several times stronger today. The pain was also changing. I felt a rapid shift occur. It was like pain and euphoria were having a tug of war within me. The pressure on my chest weighed heavy for a few seconds. It was followed by a snapping and stabbing pain, and then a rush of euphoria would hit for a bliss moment. It felt like a series of straps were being unleashed. The straps produced loud echoes from within as they were freed, one by one. Then, the familiar sound of prayers whisked me away from internalizing my pain, which was most welcome on this occasion. Even as a vicious headache began to sink in, I was thankful for the distraction. I hated the sound of song and prayer. I had a deep hatred for music from my childhood before Krotrean. I had no idea why, but I always associated music with a sinking, sinister feeling.

I managed to stand upright as Seimn and Craytar joined me in the alley, and we began to head towards The Line. Before turning right, we strolled out of the cramped yet clean alleyway in a single file line. As we emerged into a wider alleyway, Craytar grabbed Seimn's hand, and they walked together. Once we were on the main street of Krotrean, called Arterion Lane, the sunlight truly hit us. Seimn and Craytar's eyes shone like honey, but I knew mine remained the same flat black it always was.

I watched them stride happily in front of me, and I felt it was a metaphoric moment because they would soon leave me behind. Our footsteps transitioned from producing a muffled slap in the alleyways to a more solid smacking noise as our shoes' heels greeted the stone road. The sun was beginning its climb into the sky, shooting light through hundreds of red stained-glass spirals and ornaments hanging from every window down Arterion Lane. The filtered light cast an array of red illumination on the road and surrounding buildings. A pungent stench was present, for many people were changing their bedpans. While most people walked forward, some brown hooded mages with red robes stalked perpendicular to the crowd. They were known as Decomposer Mages, but I called them the shitheads. They regularly cleaned the streets and bins of human waste for a low wage from the church, which always emphasized cleanliness. However, they still made more money than Seimn and I combined, for they sold magically refined waste as 'fertilizer' to the farmers on the city's western outskirts. Soon, more workers began to join us in our morning march to The Line, merging onto Arterion Lane from all alleyways and doors. I noticed the customary smiles worn by every individual around me all too well, and there was not a frown in sight. Then, someone began to yell out.

"The road we travel, the path we live," a deep-voiced worker began.

A second later, everyone who had heard the man sing responded with the following line.

"A meaning without him is shallow, for Arterion we give!" they sang in tune, to the highest capacity of their lungs. The individual responded, and the masses spouted the chants for several minutes. However, I began to tune them out as the pain returned in force. I was thankful again for the thick cloak because my arms began to tremble as my heart went off to the races again. Suddenly, I felt apprehensive and panicked. I wanted to reach out to Craytar, but he was too far ahead and lost in the crowd.

This wave of pain wobbled me, but I continued forward, one awkward step at a time. Eventually, I passed the crest of agony, and my breathing returned to normal. For some time, all was quiet inside. Whatever strap had come undone was now finished. Once I returned to my senses, I was amazed to find that the men and women around me were still busy singing. The most devoted people in the kingdom of Ertore did tend to move to Krotrean after all, I thought. Each day, we marched forward towards a bold stand against one of the biggest militaries in Rania. We were armed to the teeth and continued to build up our defenses, and everyone around me did so with a smile on their face and praise rolling from their lungs. One of the main commandments of the Ertorian Bible was, "to die for your country willingly, is to sacrifice for me, and you shall reach ultimate salvation." These people lived by that.

It stirred up a wisp of envy from me. I wanted to feel the camaraderie that those around me had, but I was excluded by individual choice and the group's choice. My lips never stopped touching, and my mouth never opened. As the swarm of workers approached closer to The Line, the singing died down. The men and women around me began to greet each other and share stories, yet not one human eye met my eyes. Not one voice purposefully entered my ears, but I was pretty used to it.

We began to climb a steep incline up the last hill of Krotrean, known as Langston Hill, before the beginning of The Line. It resembled a miniature mountain and took several minutes to ascend to the top. I ducked out of the crowd and headed towards the side of the lane, away from the surging group. I felt another, more significant wave of pain coming, and I knew I couldn't be in the crowd this time. I walked off the stone road and onto the dewy grass, and I took in the rather majestic view of The Line.

I shifted my gaze to look up at the stubby Mount Ertore, which rose high above the hills of Krotrean to the north. It was a unique mountain with a color closer to a black shade than gray. Clouds surrounded the magnificent mountain, so the peak was not visible until I concentrated upon it with my left eye to see if I could see the top. A twitch later, I beheld the peak of the mountain with ease. As I appreciated the mountain's beauty, I spotted a large, predatory bird perched near the top of the stubby mountain. I was astonished that I could see the bird from so far away and couldn't help but laugh in awe. Then it reared its head, and I saw its eyes, which burned a sick yellow. Its eyes were dazzling, and the unsettling feeling which was manifesting inside me intensified. Then, my mind caught hold of a revelation.

Deja Vu rushed over me as I experienced a feeling that, for some reason, brought me back to my childhood. "Had I seen this bird before?" I questioned myself as goosebumps broke out on my arms. No, it was the eyes. I was experiencing the feeling of being observed from a distance by something intelligent. I could never feel for more than a fraction of a second, yet I somehow knew it was real. As if to confirm my thoughts, it lazily shut only one of its eyes. It stirred and flew north as I panicked over what I had just seen, and that intense wave of pain I had been bracing for began.