Chapter 2 - Overture II
Ascension was a deceptively simple affair. A person could spend their entire life building up their soul’s strength through extensive study of magic and elaborate rituals, fortifying it until it was capable of withstanding the weight of essence on higher planes. But when it came to the process of ascension itself, it was a mundane matter of stepping into the realm gate and waiting. If your soul was strong enough, you would feel yourself pulled upwards, away to higher planes, but if it was too weak, then the soul would be broken under the force of essence and the person would fall.
For many, it was a calculated risk. Even the most confident ones would often feel a bit of wariness when they first stepped into that pillar of light. It was only the seraphs born within the highest plane who felt none of that fear.
Julius had been traveling through realms since he was old enough to remember. The glowing light around him, warm like soft sunlight, was as familiar as the white marble pillars of his home manor.
Within the realm gate, one had a clear view outside, though those standing near the pillar would see nothing but endless light. Julius felt a pull upwards, and he closed his eyes. Elysium, he thought, and the essence around him shifted, making way to abide by his request. In the next few seconds, the first plane around him became nothing more than a blur of browns and greys as he rose upwards, past realms of different skies and landscapes until he reached the one most familiar to him.
The swirling essence settled, and Julius stepped out of the light.
Elysium was made up of soft colors. The sky was a permanent field of pale blue, stretching endlessly over the floating islands in the center part of the plane. High above those islands, a bright light shone down, blurring the edges of the pure white buildings and the island earth that was a softer shade of brown than the dark, muddy hues of the lower planes. Eternally illuminated, Elysium was a realm of low contrast, high brightness, and transient borders.
People who ascended up from the lower planes often described it as ethereal while others claimed it was unnervingly sterile. As Julius had grown older and visited more of the other planes himself, he’d started to understand the sentiment more. He would never want to live anywhere else, but he did sometimes wish for more vibrant colors, at least until he breathed in the air and remembered the feeling of pure flowing essence.
It wasn’t just the wind. Essence permeated every blade of grass and every breath. Julius felt his strength returning and his lungs expanding again. His soul hummed in gratitude, and he stepped forward.
Before one could enter the realm proper, a large gate wrapped around the pillar. It was entirely see-through, visible only when the light hit it at just the right angle for its surface to shine. Most planes didn’t have additional gates—there wasn’t a need for them—but Elysium was the home of the Light, ruler of Elysium and bearer of the Cycle’s will, and so it took a few extra precautions.
Julius raised a hand, carefully placing his palm against the cool surface of the wall. A ripple spread outwards from his touch, and in a flash of light, the wall disappeared, allowing the seraph through. If anything other than a seraph touched the wall, it would send a warning to the guardians. Though it wasn’t strong enough to prevent the beings powerful enough to ascend from breaking in, it at least provided the guardians with a head start so they could prepare to dispatch any potential threat.
Julius felt a presence beside him, and he looked over to see Lazar just behind him. The air quivered, and the wall reformed again.
“Are you returning to the manor?”
Julius nodded, flapping his wings once and squinting at the distant dark dot where his home lay. He stood at the edge of the floating island the realm gate stood on, his feet half touching the earth. The wind was especially strong that day, or maybe it only felt like it was in comparison to the first plane. Perhaps it was that feeling of lightness that made Julius want to indulge a bit.
He turned to Lazar, smiling a little.
“I’ll race you back,” he said. Then he stretched his arms out to match his spread wings and let his body tip backwards into the breeze.
He only fell for a few, exhilaratingly light seconds before his wings beat on instinct and he twisted back around, surging forward. He heard Lazar’s wings flap just behind him, and he pushed himself to fly faster.
A flicker of white flashed in the corner of his eye, and Lazar shot past him, soaring effortlessly across the expanse of blue. His laughter rang out, carried back by the wind. Not one to be outdone, Julius strained his wings, beating them with more force.
He was under no illusion that he could ever win a serious race against Lazar. Many years had passed since they’d first met, and both of them had changed from the scrawny, flightless children they’d once been. One thing that hadn’t changed, though, was that Lazar was always faster than him. All seraphs loved the sky, but the silver haired man took it to a new extreme. He took to flight as easily as breathing, and it remained the one indulgence he still allowed himself.
Lazar had grown into an almost uncannily dutiful man, always mindful of his position and following rules to a strict exactness. And yet, Julius would still sometimes see him performing tricks when he thought no one was looking, or he’d take a less efficient path back from an errand just to be able to fly for longer.
Even now, as he looked over at Lazar who was even further ahead of him, he got the feeling that he’d forgotten the race entirely. Julius shook his head and smiled to himself.
When he looked up again, however, the other seraph had slowed. Julius furrowed his brows and glanced down.
They were crossing over the field of floating islands, and he could make out distant seraphs soaring around the tall buildings. Some hung wreaths of flowers and colorful woven tapestries, draping their surroundings in fabric and blossoms. If he focused, he could make out the faraway sound of music, the pure notes of a flute ringing across the wide expanse of the sky. He could even make out a few ascended humans walking along the streets and joining in on the revelry.
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Julius slowed until he was hovering high above the bustling activity.
“Is something happening today?”
Lazar shook his head, his own grey eyes trained below them. “There was nothing on the calendar.” He sounded unsure, and Julius felt his stomach churn with unease. The sight below was undoubtedly a joyous one, but the longer he watched, the more his skin crawled.
“Let’s hurry back,” he said. He felt Lazar’s worried gaze on his back as he turned away, but he ignored it and tucked his wings a little closer, pushing himself faster until he was far away from the bustling crowds and the heavy dread settling deeper with each passing second.
—
Lord and Lady Andire were waiting at the manor when they arrived. Julius slowed as they came into view, his lips turning downwards on instinct.
The two of them were dressed in casual attire, but even that was far more elaborate than most. Freshly pressed, pristine clothes were without a single stain or imperfection. Lady Andire had a single tasteful, elegant necklace adorning her neck, and her husband wore a matching brooch. Both of them favored white clothes, which paired well with their pale blond hair. Julius’s hair was jet black. At a glance, Lazar looked more related to them than he did.
What made Julius pause, however, was the third figure standing a little ways away from the couple, his massive wings and imposing form casting a large shadow across the white marble floor.
Sir Angus was one of the oldest guardians, having served the Light for hundreds of years now. In contrast to the Andires, he was in full uniform, his heavy armor gleaming in the light. The man frowned, and he appeared distinctly out of place in the halls. Despite the tall ceilings, the manor still felt too small to house him.
Julius landed lightly on the ground, and beside him, he heard Lazar land as well. The other seraph’s eyes briefly landed on Angus’s heavy axe resting at his side before he bowed his head and kneeled in a smooth, perfectly silent motion. Lord and Lady Andire were particular with their servants; they preferred for them to speak as little as possible, and so the servants of the manor typically eschewed the usual greetings in favor of silent displays of reverence.
“Mother. Father.”
Julius greeted them stiffly before bowing to Angus and speaking more reverently. “Sir Angus, it’s an honor to see you. What brings you to the manor?”
The massive man raised a hand, and Julius straightened. It was hard to tell what his expression was beneath his thick beard.
“I was just having a talk with your parents about your ceremony.”
Julius frowned. “I believe that’s in a month, correct?”
Angus and Lord and Lady Andire exchanged glances, and the guardian cleared his throat.
“Why don’t you join us for a stroll? There’s quite a bit for you to catch up on.”
Julius nodded slowly and stepped closer to the three of them. Lord Andire waved a dismissive hand in Lazar’s direction. “Leave us,” he said. He didn’t bother looking at him, simply turning around and stepping towards the inside of the manor without a second glance and expecting to be followed.
Lazar nodded his head and rose to his feet. With a single flap of his wings, he shot upwards, soon vanishing into the sky where he would likely circle around the manor to the back entrance. Julius wished he was still around. The wide halls of the manor felt terribly empty with just the four of them.
“I trust your assignment went smoothly?” his father asked as they walked. Their footsteps echoed, crisp and clear, and light streamed in between the pillars of the open hallway, outlining the white marble like beacons.
“The demons were dispatched before they could attack any humans,” Julius reported. “The majority were soul eaters, but I did encounter a few flesh eaters among them.”
Lady Andire wrinkled her nose. “Lovely,” she muttered. “Flesh eaters ascending.”
Angus cleared his throat. “I’m afraid that’s related to the topic at hand. You’re a smart young man, I imagine you’ve noticed how many more tears have opened recently and how many souls have fallen.”
When Julius wasn’t dispatched to deal with unruly ascensions, his duties typically involved handling fallen souls. Once a soul had fallen, it was permanently damaged and couldn’t be restored. Eventually, if not immediately in extreme cases, a tear would open and the soul would be dragged into the Void, where it would disintegrate into nothing, devoured by the Oblivion and forever removed from the Cycle.
The tears couldn’t be stopped once they appeared, but seraphs typically mitigated the damage by banishing fallen to the Abyss before the tears opened up in another plane. Better for the demons to deal with than humans. Besides, a soul eater devouring a fallen before they were dragged into the Void was the only way to avoid a tear opening up entirely, so Elysium had little qualms with the banishments.
One of Julius’s hands landed on his sheathed sword, absently gripping the handle. It was rare, but sometimes tears would open without any fallen involved, and those tears could become gateways between planes, allowing demons and other creatures to reach higher planes without properly ascending. It was simply a natural result of the constant push and pull between the Light and the Oblivion.
“Sir Angus,” Julius said, picking his words carefully, “Has something happened to disrupt the balance?”
“Nothing has strictly happened per say. The Oblivion has simply grown stronger with time, and now we’re beginning to see the consequences.”
“...May I ask how that relates to me?”
His father tsked. “Still foolish, I see. If you used your head, it would be obvious.” He stopped walking and finally turned around, his deep blue eyes cold and icy. For a second Julius felt like a child again, and he resisted the urge to shrink in on himself, resolutely keeping his posture straight as he met the man’s gaze evenly.
“In the event that the situation worsens, the Light will need as much support as she can acquire.” His nose wrinkled. “Seeing as I am no longer a guardian and you are next in line, you will be speeding up your induction process and making yourself useful as soon as possible.”
The weight in Julius’s stomach grew. Sir Andire’s expression held none of the contempt of his father’s, and his next words were solemn, heavy and resonant in the empty halls.
“Your induction ceremony has been moved to tomorrow.”