His walk was steady. Sword gleaming along the unwavering edge. As the worn path brought nothing for Gregor to contest. He looked around, trying to find any threat, failing after a test of Arpsk. There was nothing here, so it seemed like an in between, a moment of reprieve from the dangers he’d faced. He shouldn’t have lapsed, no matter what conclusion he’d drawn, but his eyes tended to drift high above, the moon and the mountain peak beyond reach.
Gregor’s thoughts bounced around, his eyes half in and out of focus as he drew parallels to the lone journey. The great moon high above, and the mountain peak that tried to reach it. Only to be ever so far, to never reach the Stars. But it stood alone, standing proud in the only way it was, a mountain so high Gregor dared not test the steep slopes. Few if any would, if they were not a Seeker, and even then, they were not infallible. And still he thought most of them to be his betters, even if he only heard passing stories in taverns and old tales from his father.
Holding off reading future insights was one thing, but trusting himself, believing in this journey… that was another, he couldn’t yet grasp. Because, like him, like the written words he had yet to dive deep, both were just as they always were. Filled with potential, and yet, just the same, both useless before the present. A burden if nothing else.
Just… why, why couldn’t he know? What was the issue? Why couldn’t he prepare for the future now? Wasn’t this the whole point, to be prepared, to be proactive, and counter appropriately?
He felt the pulses of his heart, his mind felt squeezed and on fire. His mind felt bloated, filled with rumbling lava.
Gregor scrunched his face; his nose wrinkled, eyes narrowed to slits, and teeth a mad hard grin. It was all he could manage to do to handle the build up, the frustration, the— Ugh everything.
It was only when he came upon a new sight did things start to even balance themselves. If only it was the brewing unease and the familiar welcome.
A warm lantern light hung by the entrance of the passage. Illuminating just enough for him to see the long trek forward, and the edge of another warm light.
Did he have another choice— no, not really. He didn’t pause even for a moment at the entrance, resolving himself to dive into the darkness. Leaving the moon, high above as he went further below.
Further on, the deeper he went, the tunnel became less rigid, smooth, almost slippery as his boots tried to find their hold. The passage bent around, twisting down, flattening out to the point where Gregor lost his sense of direction. With each new turn, and decent, the edges of another light became softer. Until he could barely make the lighter shades of darkness, before there were no more shades.
He paused, to what he assumed to be, the final lantern.
A problem that he needed to manage, he waited in thought under the lantern, thinking all that he could.
But what was needed, what did he have that could allow him to maintain the light?
There was only one answer, and it came surprisingly quick, but he didn’t have enough Miasma for continuous casting. Nor the wait between the darkness, and for whatever was lurking would surely be waiting for the moment.
But he needed to try something, anything, if his notes mentioned nothing of cutting a Spell short then he would give it his all.
Gregor took his breath, finding himself at the edge of the warm light. Taking his stance in casting Arpsk. It bloomed alone revealing the path forward, and the steep descent that was out of sight. The Spell wanted to move, it wanted to be free, but he kept it firmly within his grasp. His sword held on by only three fingers, because he wanted confirmation, he needed this to work.
So kept on, for how long, five— ten minutes? It didn’t matter, only that the light did not falter; the Spell did not break. A small wash of pride came. His smile, less mad, and more proud. Even as he felt the Spell stunted, unable to feel the presence of others like this, but, out of everything, it was enough. A new way forward. Even as it tried to destabilize in the first few steps. He had to take it easy, take it slow, and practice in the safety of the warm light.
He could withstand the strain. Manage the Miasma. And find a new way forward, something mark his own, beyond his notes and Thame.
A way to make his own, even if it was the tiniest of steps.
----------------------------------------
There was an end to everything, and this passage was no different as Gregor stared at the small chasm before him. The light barely reached the other side, but most of it got lost over the edge, far down into the abyss below. The walls were smooth, the ceiling bare of anything to reach for, and for a good while he just stared. There was nothing, nothing within his power to close the distance, where his full sprint might make it to the half mark.
But an off colored white caught his eye. Gregor turned to the white marble embedded near the edge of the wall and chasm. Inscriptions of what he couldn’t tell were written on its face.
Cautiously, he went ahead and read it. The sharp plain text, broken into two parts. One he could easily understand.
‘Touch and let it flow. For the Spell you’re meant to know.’
He couldn’t read what was below, but he recognized their general shapes and the touch of knowing on his mind. Written in what could only be the characters of Elekio, was surely the Spell. A Spell that had not one, but three words!
Words are power, they are focus. An ask of yourself and of the world. Mingling with each other, to and through in order to create a wonder that was truly unlike any other. With each word more focus could be derived, and subsequently a potential Rank increase, but the complexity of the language; the interweaving of words into a single phrase changes the meaning of most words. Grinding their discovery to a snail’s pace.
It was something he didn’t have time to decipher, a warning and a waste of time noted in his pages.
That, and the consequences. Of what? Sometimes instant death was the best outcome one could hope for.
He caught himself drifting in thought— he was stalling, because underneath it all, he was weary. Not wanting to reach out. Not wanting help. But this whole thing about trust seemed like a mockery of choice, because what did he have of it? Above all, he just wanted to see this ordeal end and see the other side.
With begrudged courage, he huffed the air. And turned his back to the chasm, reaching out with his elbow, keeping his Spell steady as he warped his stance. Until he touched the words.
It was like the beginning, all over again. Emotions. Voices. Pressure. Gregor thought he was going mad till the words echoed so clearly, there could be no false tone.
Gethsrnt Safceiric Efturu
Gregor’s eyes went wind as he pulled away, the light wavered within his grasp. He backed off from the edge of the cliff, and resigned to gather himself. His head, still spiraling. Light, still flickering. And wanting to figure out the nature of the Spell in question.
The first thought, his only thought really, was to return. Return to the last light that was before the endless darkness. At least he tried.
Tracing his steps there was built up of pressure, of Miasma and dread. His breathing became harder, and soon the whispers came. Nonsensical spouting, but with his mind already worn, he stopped before they became blaring. It was only then that he noticed that the light within his grasp was a third of the size it once was. How? His control didn’t falter, nor did his stance or passage of Miasma. It just simply couldn’t handle it, the darkness, the weight about it given form.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
For the first time he knew the meaning of his own words….
‘You must run.’
He wanted to, he truly did. But his legs shook under the pressure. Only with careful steps did the light regain its strength and, himself; his own sanity.
But the darkness was getting closer. He felt it creeping, slowly, sure, but he didn’t have long to figure out another course.
Gregor quickly counted the step, the distance from the edge of safe ground to the cliff. Thrice to make sure he was ready, and prepared. Using two Spells in tandem, was impossible for him right now.
He practiced, thinking of each word. Each syllable. Before taking a safe distance.
He kept his breath steady, while his heart was a jumbled mess. Gripping his sword tighter, his pack nestled in his arm accordingly. He was ready, as he would ever be.
Gregor cast the final step of light free. Calling the words, “Gethsrnt Safceiric Efturu.”
For the brief moment he was in between the two Spells. He felt his eyes constrict, an awakening within, of power, of focus. His body tensed and coiled, as Tae surged forth, leaving his Miasma.
Everything was just so… slow. The light hanging in the air. The change in grip of his sword and pack.
He felt himself take the first step even before the light burst, and the surge of speed that came along.
Everything was well, hope was shining. Then the light fell, and all that was left was the sound of his feet racing against the stone… then, Arpsk completed its due and told him all that was there.
Mangled edges. Sharp ends. Things of unquestionable forms, made the very edges of his mind shriek away. The feeling of horror, heavy in its entirety, caused Gregor to gasp mid-run.
The whispers came, its slow, echoey shrieks of delight. Gregor dared not to look back, not to anything but count his steps.
A quarter left; two steps more. His arm tightened the hold over the broken pack straps. He gauged the momentum, readied, and hoped. Throwing it into the dark. His arms free of burden, he took another step, chasing the whistle of his pack. There he felt it, a tingle running up his spine, the sense of dread reaching out. He was fading and his mind was losing focus.
What was he doing? Why? How many steps? What’s there left for me?
Have I— NO!
His face scrunched in opposing anger. Beating the wave back, keeping himself; his center, his vindication, to the next step.
Gregor prayed all the same. He hoped. And his truth touched the ground, reaching up by the guided blade as he flew.
The moment was almost euphoric. He heard his pack touch the other end, joy filled his heart. He would make it, he knew he would. Still he reached as far as he could with his blade, should he fail to land, his blade might just catch the edge.
He waited in the air, desperation climbing, so when his feet touched the ground, he was unprepared. Gregor fell and skidded his pants, and knees, feeling the blood tricked out the stinging wounds. But that was put off, he reached to where he heard his pack would be. A growing well of despair, thought it wrong, that something had changed. That he should just leave it and run, but he couldn't. Anxious, until he felt a strap of broken leather.
Gregor let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. All was right, he had taken another step forward. He wanted to cheer, a little gripped fist in pride.
But a feeling touched his mind, he shuddered. Turning back to stare into the dark, over from the other side of the chasm. Bracing for the whispers to come. Only they never did.
A white light… no a void taken in the form of the purest white revealed itself from the curtain of darkness. It had but one form, but then another came… larger… smaller. It didn’t matter as Gregor felt the rush of blood between his ears. His gut fell to the pits of this world, and his mind blanked at their malefic smiles of long, pristine, sharp teeth.
There was a laugh, then another, till all of them were laughing in discord. The blaring feeling of dread only grew as Gregor was stunned to inaction. Until they stopped one by one, their smiles grew wider as they began their march to the other side. To where he was, unencumbered the pit before them as they floated over.
Their smiles grew wilder.
And Gregor could only thank a surge of a single moment, a single thought.
Run.
----------------------------------------
Riker's attention was glazed over, watching in part along with the boy’s Avatar. Because the choice he made was something they both fell short on.
Agility— His second worst known path, Resilience falling to near obscurity. One could only take so much a beating, and have it only be a part of the unknown equation. It left him to face his inadequacy. He only knew that he did not know, and that it would be better for him to not be a teacher of Resilience at all.
But Agility… his frown deepened, internally he grumbled, was a product of finesse, dexterity, and speed. Something that the boy lacked, in all but part of his foundational development.
He thought back to one of the very first tasks he set the boy on. Stretches. Setting the body up right and checking for any malformed movements. Only what he got was a surprise. The boy’s body was not like a common man; rigid but powerful from the lifetime of labor. The boy was certainly lacking power, but in turn for his natural folly he had been given a gift. One that allowed the boy to do splits, and twist his arm in unnatural poses.
Henry was in awe. He told him he was not capable of this before.
It would have been the height of folly if he were to let this advantage waste away. Though, maybe, because of it, they were now; building up speed and managing his flexibility. Setting up the next foundation.
He grumbled. Catching the eye of the Avatar. Bellowing in response, certainly asking a question. Riker ignored the thing. It huffed and resigned to watching the boy’s sprints, being as it was a poor form of Agility. Maybe in time, they would push this boundary and Rank, even if Riker thought it to be a poor choice.
But, the boy’s decision was of his own. He would restrain himself to only advise and manage the pace of these last few days.
“Quit huffing and get to those stretches now!”
----------------------------------------
A lion couldn’t catch a gazelle in an outright chase. It needs to be young, injured, or have some other infliction slowing it down. In a pure contest of survival, if Henry was to live a solitary life causing trouble, then he would be a gazelle. Barb his horns, get into trouble in doing some good, and flee off to the horizon.
Little steps, in large strides.
Agility is the name of the game. It’s just that no one felt struck by the thought, not impactful enough, if he were to summarize Riker’s position. But he stood strong, and just a bit proud at using Riker’s own words’ against him.
“…So if no one is following the path of Agility, then I would be free to do as I do. No one would catch me, because no one has trained to catch me…”
The silence that followed was pure joy. Which he was paying the price for now.
Henry felt himself tired, but light on his feet after his stretches. Allowed to take a ten minute rest before he was smacked into starting up again. He hated that part, protesting it unnecessary, and yet, still, the bastard hit him.
The only thing that was making this hard, other than the training, was the look on Dimetrodon. Riker had warned him of the mismatch of him and his Avatar, but he felt no protest from his bond, only a strange sense of longing. Wishing to be as he was, struggling as he did. Henry felt a growing sense of shame, that he had to keep on fighting.
They would figure out a solution together, he knew it was possible. They only need to wait for the time to be right.
“Get into form!” He heard Riker yell, and then a whistle of the stick. Henry yelped, always giving a glare. “Again.”
Henry rubbed his bruise as he got into a shallow pose, a sprinter's start. Pushing his Thame to his legs, willing the path of Agility.
The green tendrils weaved themselves into his muscles, surging in a common force.
He didn’t hear Riker speak the command, but Henry saw his lips part, and followed suit. Yor surged, and his speed rose. He gave it all he had to reach the marked end, and another record was broken.
Henry smiled at the scoff Riker gave; the highest praise he could be offered.
He got back to prepare for another run, and another, and another… all in preparation. To manage his power, to set him on his path, and to call forth the Spells that would surge him further forward.
It was grueling. He wanted to throw up by the end, but Ize gave him a soft pat on the back and allowed him to rest before her training. And for that… for all of this, he would be grateful for.
To them all.