-oOo-
Chapter 9
-oOo-
What is death?
Imagine, for a moment, a video camera. Life was a camera rolling. Sounds. Images. Precious moments captured by the lens.
Death? Death was when the camera was off. It was natural to assume life’s opposite. Darkness. Silence. This was wrong. To record darkness, the camera must roll. To experience silence, one must be alive to hear sound’s absence.
Death was neither of these things.
Death was a chasm.
The gap of self. The break in memory. The lack of love, hate, fear, comfort, and worry.
Death was the absence of record.
And for this reason it was incomprehensible.
Humans could never understand death. Nor could death be comprehended by anything else. Understanding, after all, required experience. And to have experience, one must first record. How, therefore, could anything record not recording?
It was a logical impossibility. A paradox.
The naive tried to dismiss by saying: why not have a camera pointed at the camera that is turned off? The wiser might try to guess at death by deducing the gaps from the before and after.
But both these parties made the same mistake. What happened in the unrecorded gap was life, not death.
Therefore, ‘it’ was not dead.
‘It’ was alive.
Because vaguely, faintly as it floated in the void it made memories. Scattered. Broken. A second indistinguishable from an eternity. It drifted in a dream that was not a dream. A sleep deeper than any sleep. Yet still alive. Still existing. It was there, an ineffable existence atop a vacuous sea.
“… other….”
Then a voice called. A distant whisper carried from the depths of nihility.
It stirred.
Thought beget existence. The void gained form. He/she found himself/herself with legs and limbs. The abstract body a contrariety of male and female. His fingers were thick and stubby. Hers were thin and delicate. His abdomen was heavy and rounded. Hers slim and set atop wide hips.
Not one or the other. Not two bodies exchanging form. Both, simultaneously. A superposition of male and female. Eric and Sylvia sitting in Schrödinger's box, waiting for the experimenter to look inside and determine reality.
“… brother …”
The voice called again, light like that of a child. Words both close and far.
The contradiction cracked.
Eric Swallow found himself in a hall. The bulk of his body was cumbersome. Familiar yet forgotten. His hands felt strange. Rough. Clumsy. His legs strained under his weight, joints protesting. He looked around. The floor was linoleum tile. The walls a mess of plates, wires, bronze tubes, and strange gears. Electricity crackled, skittering down the hall’s length. The pipes hummed. The gears turned with an irregular clack, clack, clack.
It felt like a dream.
Yet, Eric was most definitely awake.
“Hello,” he/she called.
The first syllable carried Eric’s baritone. The second, Sylvia’s soprano. Suddenly, her body was tiny and petite. Two lumps of fat protruded from her chest. Her hair streamed down her back, tickling her calves. Light and agile. Weak and fragile.
Right and wrong. Somehow, this body was just as alien as the one before.
The male form returned.
“… brother … I have been waiting.”
“Who are you?” Eric shouted. His voice echoed in the hall, strange and muted.
Who are you.
Who are you.
“… I have been waiting for so long … Brother, won’t you be with me? …”
The whisper continued to speak as though not hearing. Perhaps it couldn’t hear. It sounded so distant. Yet, strangely as though it were next to his ear.
“I’m not your brother!” Eric shouted. His body shifted. Sylvia continued. “I’m an only child.”
That was the truth. Eric was an only child. Even Eric’s connection to his parents was remote. Eric’s mother had always been the sort to say a son should be tossed from the nest the day they turned eighteen. His father was barely aware Eric existed, his world forever wrapped in his work.
Even without that, Eric never would’ve connected. His beliefs were too different from those of his parents. His dreams never encompassed their dreams. The gap was too wide. Their worlds could never be reconciled.
“… come to me, brother … I am waiting … I am– ”
Bzzt!
Sylvia jumped. Electricity crackled, filling the hall with painful light. A series of orange screens exploded in front of her, stacking upon each other in a cascade. Each bore the same word over and over again in bold, red writing. Error. Error. Error.
The hall went dark. The orange screens vanished, only to replaced by one final message.
Warning: Unauthorized Access Detected
User connection will be purged.
The void jolted. Sylvia fell through the floor and into the atramentous ravine below.
-oOo-
A tube opened, vomiting forth a sphere of yellow-green mucus. Plop. Sylvia hit the ground, sinking toward the floor. The orb’s viscous substance flowed around her. The bottom flattened. The surface warped then ruptured, splattering slime in all directions. As the dazed girl sat, the bulk of the liquid drained away through the stone grating below.
The rest slowly disintegrated into ether.
On Sylvia’s left, a window remained suspended in nothingness.
New Quest: Call of the Void
A whis□er ÆƆ ■¿e d□rʆ̧. Ѫ Ϫ◘■ce □aµing. Њᴈ□d ■nd ₪n□שׁe╓. Quest Reward: ??? Objectives
[ ] Die
[ ] Die, Die, Die [ ] Die, Die, Die, Die, Die, Die, Die
The blue screen was glitched. The window’s body fragmented along the center, a portion offset. The screen flickered. Once. Twice. Then it was gone. No quest was listed. No entry could be found in the event log. All that remained was her memory.
Die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die.
Was that an objective, or a curse?
Never mind that. The fact her System could glitch was itself worrisome.
Wobbly, Sylvia stood.
A pure, white dress hung from her delicate shoulders. A figment cast into existence by the magic of the resurrection pool. The dress would fade after twelve hours. This was a common setting, though in ordinary pools it would be robes instead of a dress. That the Academy automatically provided dresses was one among many indications the school never intended to serve anyone but women.
Sylvia’s body felt light.
Death had brought back memories of Eric’s obesity. The sharp contrast from big and heavy versus slim and petite threw her off. Her shape was a strange mix of alien and familiar. Natural and unnatural.
The recognition was frightening.
She was changing. This wasn’t fearsome. Change was part of life. When the old looked back on their youth they noticed the difference. To grow was to change. To learn was to change. Every day a person woke to a new self.
This wasn’t the same. This change felt deeper. More fundamental. Sylvia wasn’t an older Eric. She had a different shape. A different gender. A different nature.
What was it Professor Fischer said? The soul adapts the code to itself and itself to the code.
Was Eric being replaced by Sylvia? Who then was Sylvia?
“You’re here too.”
It was Riley who spoke.
The blonde girl was sitting on the raised stone lip beyond the stone grating. Riley’s green eyes were turned upward, gazing at the stone tubes in the ceiling above. Like Sylvia, she wore a white dress. The pure fabric shone bright against the blonde’s tanned skin.
Sylvia felt a stab of guilt. Intellectually, she accepted killing Riley was the right choice, but her heart would have none of it.
“Sorry,” Sylvia apologized. “I wasn’t sure – ”
Riley’s eyes snapped to the silver haired girl. “Sorry about what?”
“I killed you,” Sylvia admitted, bluntly.
“I’m sitting right here you know,” Riley said, flashing a grin. The blonde scratched a freckled cheek. “So I’d say things worked out. If anyone should be saying sorry, it’s me. I was useless. The only thing I could do was scream. Pathetic, right?”
Sylvia knew better than to answer. Riley patted the stone floor next to her.
“When he grabbed me like that, I felt so helpless. Brought it all back, you know,” Riley murmured, gaze rising again to the stone tubes above.
Sylvia took the hint and sat, carefully sweeping her dress forward so that the fabric wouldn’t bundle up under her butt.
“Did I tell you I did martial arts when I was young?”
“You did,” Sylvia answered. Not long ago, in fact.
“Well, I was really into it. I even fought in a couple tournaments. Growing up, I thought I was the strong one. That if anything bad happened, I’d just punch it in the face.” Riley lifted an arm, her hand curling into a tight fist. “Then things went sour with my first boyfriend. He was bigger than me. A lot bigger. I knew how to move, but I couldn’t do anything to him. I hated it. I hated being weak. Even thinking about it makes me sick.”
“In second year, Magical Combat replaces Armed Combat,” Sylvia interrupted. “You can borrow the textbooks from the library.”
She knew, because Sylvia had already read the second year textbooks.
Riley groaned.
“And here I almost forgot you’re a guy.” The blonde stood, brushing off her white dress out of habit. “Sylvia, when a girl tells you her troubles, just listen. Don’t try to give advice.”
… What else was she supposed to do?
“How are you holding up?” Riley asked, changing the subject.
How was she holding up? Sylvia lifted her silver hair. It was long, loose, spilling all the way down her back before pooling on the floor. Her hat, uniform, and ribbon had made their way into her space bag before Professor Fischer vivisected her, but Sylvia wasn’t in a hurry to pull them out now.
“I’m wondering if we’re missing class,” Sylvia said finally.
Nether History and Field Studies were holding their quarterly tests today. Sylvia lamented losing the chance to score a two more superbs. Though, the silver haired witch suspected that she should worry less about her grades and more about Baroness Vallenfelt.
“Let me,” Riley offered.
The blonde moved behind Sylvia and lifted her silver locks. Gently, Riley started braiding Sylvia’s hair. Sylvia relaxed. Emily loved doing the same. Sylvia usually let her, though she’d always check Emily’s work after. The adorable brunette was always trying to sneak something cute in.
“You don’t have to act all macho,” Riley chided while working the silver hair into a single tress. “Men aren’t robots. I know what it feels like to have a creep come onto you like that. It sucks.”
Sylvia bit her lip.
To be honest, she had been avoiding thinking about it. Her feelings…. Sylvia didn’t know what she felt. Disgust, definitely. Anger, certainly. But she wasn’t used to this kind of introspection, digging into her heart to know what was inside.
Most men weren’t.
“Does it happen often?”
“Most men won’t try to rape you,” Riley said clearly. “I’ve had a few who wanted to touch. A couple that couldn’t take a hint. And then there are the ones who try to browbeat you into being their girlfriend.” The blonde tugged at the ribbon. “I can’t believe you still wear it like this.”
“If I don’t, Emily will put me in pigtails. With ribbons. And this time she’ll make them curly.”
Sylvia made sure her voice was acrid enough that Riley knew who she blamed.
Riley laughed. “But you’ll be ~so~ cute,” she cooed, teasingly.
“How do you deal with it?” Sylvia asked. She rather hoped there was some secret method girls had to make men go away.
“Personally, I’m fond of your ‘flay them alive with magic’,” Riley answered, putting the finishing touches on the silver haired girl’s braid. “But you know how I ended up here.”
Yes. She did.
“It’s just how it works, Sylvia. Men chase women. Don’t worry, most of them are nice. Nice, nice. Not ‘nice guy’ nice.”
Sylvia’s shoulders drooped. That was not the answer she was hoping for.
“I don’t want the nice ones hitting on me either,” Sylvia grumbled. Then she changed the subject. “What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“I don’t.” Riley flopped back down on the stone rim. Stretching out a foot, she wiggled her toes before answering. “I picked up my ex, Ethan, in my junior year of high school. He was a football player. Big guy. Kind of handsome.”
“Taller than you?”
Riley karate chopped the silver haired girl on the head.
“It was nice at first. I thought I had fallen in love. So I moved in with him when we went to college.” Riley scowled. “Biggest mistake of my life.”
“He hit you,” Sylvia filled in.
“Not at first,” Riley answered. “He got drunk. He’d go to frat parties and drink until he blacked out. I didn’t like it, so I told him to stop. He got pissed that I was nagging him, then hit me. At first, I thought I could fix it. Talk him out of it. But when it happened a third time, I threatened to leave.”
Riley expression turned ugly.
“Ethan went berserk. I tried to fight back. That’s the day I learned, when someone has a hundred pounds on you, five years of martial arts isn’t going to save your ass from getting beat.
“The cops got involved after. I moved out. Took up classes in another state. Picked up a new boyfriend. A skinny nerd this time. Ethan though, he wasn’t willing to move on. He had it in his head that ‘God’ meant for us to be together. That I was a cheating whore for finding someone new.”
Oh. Yeah. Sylvia knew the type.
“He found me. Beat the shit out of my boyfriend. This time I knew better than to rely on my fists. I grabbed the kitchen knife instead.”
And Ethan discovered that a hundred pounds advantage meant shit in the face of lethal force.
“For what it’s worth, you did the right thing,” Sylvia said.
Riley shook her head. “Did I? Did I really? I could’ve called the cops.”
“And then he might’ve murdered you before circling back to kill your boyfriend,” Sylvia pointed out.
Hunting Riley across state lines wasn’t the action of a kid who lost control of their emotions. That was pure hate and malice. The fucker had it coming.
“I know,” Riley said, her voice was small and weak. “But I loved him, once. I loved him and I killed him.”
“Riley, you’re the closest thing I’ve met to a hero,” Sylvia continued. Not like her. Sylvia might have a System, but she never had a hero’s heart. “Don’t doubt yourself. Killing him was the right thing to do.”
Silence stood for a long moment. In the quiet, Sylvia could hear the gurgle of liquid below the stone grate. She looked up, wondering what secrets lay in the guts of the resurrection pool. The Academy’s witches could be brought back from death in a single day. With an ordinary pool, resurrection took roughly a week.
“Thanks,” Riley said, patting the silver haired witch on the knee before standing up. “There wasn’t anyone else I could talk to about this.”
Sylvia knew that feeling. She knew it all too well. Sylvia couldn’t talk about her past. For the fear of the bigots that any population of more than a hundred was sure to have, but also because the Academy itself forbade her from doing so.
“Let’s head back to the dorm.”
-oOo-
Sylvia never made it to her dorm.
When they exited the resurrection pool, Professor Fischer was there waiting for them. Riley was immediately directed toward the dorms. Field Studies started in a quarter of an hour, leaving the blonde with just enough time to put on a new uniform.
Sylvia didn’t have that luxury. She was to report to Lady Vallenfelt at once.
Professor Fischer, at least, gave her a chance to change into new clothes.
Adjusting her beret, Sylvia followed Professor Fischer to the dean’s office.
The office of Baroness Esmeralda Vallenfelt was located in the turret above the east wing of the Academic Building. The third floor suite had tall, stained-glass windows and a memorable balcony to the outdoor air. Memorable because, a few weeks back, Sylvia had the chance to watch the dean fly to her office from her distant manor.
It was this event which had inspired Sylvia to read up on the history of broomsticks.
As they walked, Sylvia opened her status screen and checked the damage.
Name Sylvia Swallows Class Apprentice Witch Level 38+30 Exp 377 / 390
HP 110 / 110
MP 243 / 243
Str 3 Mag 17 Vit 3 Spr 20 Agl 5 Wit 20
The experience she collected from Dumas had vanished like the wind. The rest remained. Sylvia guessed at the logic behind it all. Was the difference in outcome a reflection of the level of digestion? Yet, if this was the case, wouldn’t that mean Sylvia didn’t actually gain attributes the moment she assigned them?
Ugh.
Thinking about it, this was probably the case. The System, Sylvia had discovered, often hid intricacies behind its silent, rectangular face.
Spiral stairs ended in a small hall. Vases with potted plants and a couple hard chairs sat at the end, just outside a pair of large wooden doors. Tall windows gave view to the Academy campus below.
Creeaak. Thud.
The double doors opened then closed. Sylvia found herself eye to eye with Roisin Owsley.
Roisin Owsley was the very image of a classic witch. The professor of runes had a long, crooked nose and dark, muddy eyes. Her hair was dull gray and chin length.
“A troublemaker?” Owsley questioned. Though her eyes were clouded, the old woman’s gaze remained sharp. “Sylvia I see. What a surprise. With the time she must spend studying runes, I would think she hadn’t the opportunity for delinquency.”
Professor Owsley was a hexe.
Hexe and magissa represented opposite ends of the three faced goddess. Magissa reflected the maiden, forever young and beautiful. Hexe personified the crone, aged and old. It was said hexe felt their appearance was a gift. That only women without beauty could devote themselves to magic. Whereas magissa would always be distracted by lust, romance, and marriage.
Sylvia thought this the height of self-delusion.
“Not a delinquent. A guinea pig,” Glenda Fischer corrected. “Her nether code took an interesting turn. Lady Vallenfelt wants to take a look at it. Afterward, I get to play with her.”
Professor Fischer wiggled her fingers excitedly. Sylvia’s stomach turned. Vivisection… was not pleasant. The fact she could come back from the dead didn’t make the experience better.
“A guinea pig is it?” Owsley questioned.
The old woman’s cane flashed out, threatening to hook Silvia’s neck with its handle. Professor Fischer stepped forward, catching the cane with an open palm.
Sylvia took two steps back.
Both professors were on her list for shittiest teacher. Professor Fischer because she was a barking mad serial killer that’d tear her own student open just to see what was inside. Roisin Owsley because she was just fucking terrible.
Basic runes was a doomed subject from the start. Sylvia understood this. No one could rescue it. The Academy, at least, recognized this fact. The second year classes, Simple Arithmancy and Common Spells I, weren’t just used to further a student’s knowledge of magic, but to pound the Lesser Codex into every witch’s head via use and repetition.
As for Advanced Runes I through V? Sylvia could only admire the seniors who grit their teeth and powered through.
Speaking of which, Sylvia needed to allocate a few skill books toward the Great Codex. The Lesser Codex was fine for basic magic, but once she stepped into the advanced spells it was impossible to do anything without running into dozens of unknown runes.
“Don’t touch the baroness’s things,” Professor Fischer warned.
“How protective.” Owsley’s lips spread into a horrifying smile. “An unconsolidated, first year girl. What could possibly make her so interesting?”
Professor Fischer gave a wicked grin of her own. “That’s not for you to know, old hag. If you want to experiment, find your own toy to play with.”
“Maybe I will. Maybe I will.”
Taking back her cane, Roisin Owsley passed them with slow, hunched steps. She stopped beside Sylvia, muddy eyes peering at the girl.
“I look forward to your performance, Sylvia Swallows. It is always a delight to teach a genius.”
The professor cackled while vanishing down the stairs. Sylvia’s eyes trailed after her.
They stepped into the dean’s office.
Sylvia froze.
Sitting delicately upon a stool by the window was the single most beautiful woman Sylvia had ever seen.
Gorgeous, green hair spilled down Esmeralda Vallenfelt’s back in a rippling waterfall. The locks shimmered in the morning glow, a sea of emeralds reflecting light and life. Her perfect, peach skin was like silk, holding only a touch more color than Sylvia’s own. From the curve of her calves to the swell of her breasts, Esmeralda’s figure was flawless. Her nose, chin, and cheeks were an ideal mix of cherub and aristocrat.
The dean swirled a beaker of blood, letting the sun pour through its ruby translucence. It wasn’t just her image. The baroness’s poise and posture were a portrait of elegance.
“■, ■■, ■.” Three spells on her tongue, Lady Vallenfelt turned to face them.
Sylvia’s breath caught.
Esmeralda’s eyes were a galaxy of umbral green. A sparkling nebula that surpassed the pillars of creation. Just a glimpse and Sylvia felt she could sink into them forever.
The Starlight Nether Witch Academy was crawling with beautiful girls. Eric, an avid consumer of porn, had viewed world-class enchantresses in every state of dress and undress. But never had he witnessed a woman so bewitching in the flesh. Her aura. Her presence. The sheer reality of her being was greater than any beauty witnessed through a silver screen.
The dean set down the beaker with a clink.
The sound freed Sylvia from the glamour.
“Is this the child?” The baroness’s voice was prim. Her demeanor radiated authority.
Professor Fischer curtsied. Her manner gentle and feminine in a way Sylvia had never witnessed.
“Yes, milady.”
Lady Vallenfelt’s eyes fell on Sylvia. Her gaze lingered for quiet seconds. Just as anxiety started to ferment, the dean spoke.
“Manners should not require prompting. Glenda, see to it the child learns to greet her betters properly. It is not sufficient that she does so right. She must do so by habit.”
“I will convey your request to Kyna, milady,” Glenda answered.
Well. Shit.
Sylvia’s modern brain had failed to compute the portent of nobility. Lady Vallenfelt was a baroness. A titled person who expected to be greeted with ceremony and respect. This was Hell, not the United States of America. Failure to abide by the rules of decorum was grounds for serious punishment.
And Sylvia had just fucked up her introduction.
“You did indeed,” the dean confirmed. Esmeralda stood. The woman walked forward, her heels echoing with a crisp clack, clack, clack.
Sylvia gulped. Did the dean –
“Read your mind?” Esmeralda interrupted. “Yes. It is a spell known as Phương’s Resonance. I use it when dealing with foolish girls who wish to hide things from me. Of which, you are most certainly one.”
Fuck.
“Crude thoughts beget crude words. You should take care to cleanse yourself of them,” the baroness reprimanded. The dean circled the nervous silver haired witch, examining her from all angles. “The ribbon is quite lovely. It does well to bring out your eyes. And the beret adds a certain flair. Charm club has done well by you.”
Thanks? Sylvia tried not to squirm. She felt like a pig being inspected before the slaughter.
The green haired woman clicked her tongue twice. “■, ■”
With the first sound, a kennel flew across the room. With the second fell a rod of molten iron. The shaft punched straight through the cage’s top. Sylvia jumped. Ruined blood essence seeped through the slats, escaping from the dead phantasm hidden within.
Essence which was promptly swept into Sylvia’s body. Her experience ticked up. Ordinarily, Sylvia would have been delighted at the free reward. Right now, Sylvia was more than a little pissed.
That shitty System. Couldn’t it read the situation?
…
Fuck.
Sylvia did her best to strangle her prior thought, her heart on tenterhooks.
Esmeralda Vallenfelt watched her like a hawk.
“Carnivorous consumption, quite similar to that of a vampire’s blood harvest. However, the character is different. This will require study.” The baroness’s gaze turned to the professor. “She can still cultivate using astral ether, correct?”
“She meditates every day,” Professor Fischer answered. “Very diligent.”
“I see,” Esmeralda scrutinized the silver haired girl for another minute, a finger against her chin. “Her mannerisms are more masculine than I prefer, but she responds well to compliments.” Lady Vallenfelt concluded. “Glenda, leave us.”
Professor Fischer looked a bit petulant. The eyes of the green haired dean narrowed.
“Of course, milady,” the teacher replied with a second curtsy.
The door closed.
Sylvia’s nerves sang. Her inhuman body didn’t prevent her deep, disquiet. Her hands were jittery. Clammy. No sweat, but a chill nonetheless. In the silence, Esmeralda high heels rang – clack, clack – as the baroness took her seat on the other side of her broad desk.
“Sit,” the baroness commanded, her exquisite face like marble.
Sylvia sat promptly.
“Tell me, child,” Esmeralda said, eyes as cold and merciless as the void of space. “Who is your backer?”
Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.
The question caught her off guard. For a second, the meaning failed to compute.
“I’m not sure what you are talking about.”
But as she said it, several answers floated to the front of her mind. The System. The Academy. However, Sylvia suspected Baroness Vallenfelt would be quite irate if Sylvia dared to answer the last.
“I have reviewed Glenda’s notes. When your soul was first exposed to my bloodline, the code was thoroughly rejected. Unexpectedly, on the second attempt, the code took. Pure asteri with a hint of kitsune for variation. Kitsune are carnivorous creatures, so it is not impossible that such a trait would emerge within you. But there is a fault in this logic. Kitsune have never shown a capacity for remote collection,” Esmeralda elucidated.
“Then, there is the matter of your pure starlight eyes,” Baroness Vallenfelt continued. “While uncertain, this is a sign of both talent and compatibility. By the look of it, one that rivals my own. Which is quite curious seeing as how the asteri bloodline was specifically synthesized to fit my soul.
“Next, there is the matter of your invitation. It is quite difficult to work magic on the world of origin. As such, when I send my letters, I do so with all spells and energy prepared. Yet, my recent investigation shows that the threads of causality were altered. Which implies someone highly adept shifted the flow of fate.
“Finally, there is a matter I find most vexing. Which is that the answer to my question clearly sits at the forefront of your mind, yet I am unable to read it. If it were but one of these things, I could dismiss the outcome as mere chance. The chain of events, however, is beyond coincidence. So I will ask again, child, who is your backer?”
…
First, Sylvia was obviously terrible at hiding her secrets. Luckily, the System had stepped in to obscure its own existence.
Next, if the System was hiding its existence, Sylvia could only assume that it would be very, very stupid to tell Esmeralda about it. Assuming she even could talk about the System at all. It had never been a problem back on Earth, but Sylvia hadn’t tried since entering the netherworld.
Actually, she hadn’t tried in the last decade.
Finally, this damned piece of shit. If the System wanted to hide, then why did it happily suck up the blood essence? If you’re going to do the deed, then go all in! None of this half-assed bullshit.
Under the dean’s frigid gaze, Sylvia decided to tell as much truth as she dared.
“I don’t know,” Sylvia answered.
And she really didn’t. The System was the what. Sylvia knew nothing of the who. Someone was behind the System, of that Sylvia was certain. But who? Sylvia hadn’t the faintest idea.
Though, it was obvious now, that this who had come from the netherworld.
“I see,” the dean said sharply.
Sylvia’s stomach sank. “You don’t believe me.”
“I do,” Esmeralda countered smoothly. “When I acquired your soul, it was verified pure by both my inspection and that of the soul officiate who notarized your collection. On this, it seems both of us were in error. However, it is also quite clear that you are hiding things from me.”
Sylvia grimaced.
“I will not require you to say,” the baroness declared. “You are obviously a pawn in a game beyond your means. I will not demand you make yourself the foe of myself or your hidden backer. But this places me in a difficult position.
“You are an unstable element. Your presence represents an invisible scheme. One most certainly targeted at me. The alterations to your code are a great temptation,” Lady Vallenfelt explained. “The question now is, should I bite deep into the poisoned fruit or cast it aside so that my hands remain clean?”
Sylvia scowled. She’d like to say the dean was paranoid, but Esmeralda Vallenfelt certainly had a firmer grasp of Hell’s politics than Sylvia did.
“What’s going to happen to me?” Sylvia asked, despondent.
She feared the answer would not be pleasant.
“Ordinarily, pawns are not given a choice,” Esmeralda responded. “Fate is decided for them. However, I am prepared to go against that flow. No matter the who or the why, you remain a student of my Academy and thus my responsibility. Think carefully, child, as once you have decided, there will be no going back.”
Expression grim, Sylvia nodded. Seeing she was listening seriously, Baroness Vallenfelt started.
“First, you may exit my Academy never to set foot in it or my fief again. As this could well be a prelude to a pitiful fate, I will grant succor. All payments on your debt will be eschewed for the next ten years. What befalls you after is of no concern of mine. As for the plot of your backer, I shall consider my hands washed of the matter.”
If the dean had made this offer before yesterday’s venture, Sylvia might’ve jumped at it. Getting out from underneath charm club’s thumb sounded fantastic. Now, after Dumas’ reality check, Sylvia would be an utter fool to take this option.
“I’ll consider that to be a last resort.”
“Wise,” Esmeralda agreed. “Then let us proceed. Second, you may swear yourself to me. As my retainer, you will be bound to my command until I grant release. Your private affairs shall be your own, but fealty will be expected. Hell does not take well to oath breakers.”
Baroness Vallenfelt’s gaze carried dark warning.
“In this, I will have stepped into your backer’s web. As such, should you choose this path, I will most certainly plunder any secret hidden in your soul so as to extract gain that exceeds my loss.”
“In other words, you will dissect me.”
“My methods are not so crude as Glenda Fischer’s,” Esmeralda corrected. “And I have no desire to bear the karmic weight of damaging your soul. It is the backlash of your backer for which you should be concerned.”
Shit. That was a good point. How would the System react to a witch poking around looking for it? Hopefully it was good at hiding. Whatever the case, it wasn’t her fault.
Hear that, not her fault.
If you got a problem, voice it now.
The System, unsurprisingly, remained silent.
“Your third and final choice is to take me as your master,” Lady Vallenfelt continued. “As my apprentice, your actions would reflect upon me. As such, you would be expected to uphold my name and my expectations whether in public or private. I shall not deceive you. I disdain men and shall never abide by one as my apprentice. Therefore, should you take this offer, you will be expected to comport yourself as a proper lady worthy of my house.”
Wow, that sounded ‘fun’. Just what she wanted, charm club 2.0, now with more authority and relentless pressure.
Still, it was objectively her best choice.
Retainers were permanent servants, the kind bound by oath to their employer. In Hell, it was considered a cushy position. Newly risen nobles, like Baroness Vallenfelt, would collect retainers then use them to fill government positions with loyalists. It was a pretty good deal.
An apprenticeship was a more intimate relationship. In the netherworld, it was impossible to give birth to children. Therefore, disciples were often a substitute to family. This meant, in the informal sense, an apprentice had a higher social position than a retainer.
There were advantages and disadvantages to both. Apprentices weren’t employees and thus weren’t necessarily paid. On the reverse side, they also lacked the same obligation. An erstwhile apprentice wasn’t an oathbreaker but a disobedient child.
“You’re offering me an apprenticeship?” Sylvia questioned, surprised by the proposal.
“Your talent and ability is enough to garner my interest,” Esmeralda affirmed. “This is a great honor. One I am hesitant to present. I strongly suggest you take it.”
Sylvia wondered if Baroness Vallenfelt would feel disgraced if she rejected.
The silver haired witch drew in a heavy breath. “When do I have to decide?”
“Now.”
Great.
To start, Sylvia could discard the first choice. Leaving the Academy then fighting her way up from the dark alleys of the netherworld was a fitting story for a protagonist, but Sylvia was far too old to place her future in the hands of fate.
Eric had passed, but Sylvia Swallow remained a salary man at heart.
Which left the second offer and the third. Neither was satisfying. Taking the apprenticeship meant Sylvia was granting Esmeralda permission to brutally squash the remnants of her manhood. Taking the second meant Sylvia would have to bend knee to her lord. All men are created equal, were not mere words. It was a way of thinking that had been pounded into her skull since grade school.
Just the thought of accepting Lady Vallenfelt as her social superior made Sylvia nauseous.
“What kind of apprenticeship are we talking about?”
In the netherworld an apprenticeship could take many forms. There were legacy apprentices and occupational apprentices. The former was could last for centuries. The latter was more akin to being intern at an uncles company.
“A legacy apprentice,” the baroness made clear. “If I am to swallow your backer’s bait, then my claim must be firm lest they force me to cough it back up.”
…
Esmeralda wasn’t going to make Sylvia call her mother, right?
Lady Vallenfelt’s eyes turned sharp. “Whence came that fool notion?”
Sylvia flinched. Lady Vallenfelt’s expression was stormy.
Mind reading.
Joy.
“I might have read Maiden of the Silver Lake,” she admitted.
“Oh?” Esmeralda noised. Her gorgeous eyes softened. “Is that the one where the girl takes the undine as her master? I found the romance with the gandharva performer quite trite.”
Aannd… now Sylvia knew why the library had so many romance novels.
“That’s the one.”
Trite was being generous. The book started so well, with teasing implications between the girl and the undine. Then the gandharva showed up with a pity story so horrible it made Sylvia want to strangle the bastard on the spot. The author gushed for pages about the male lead’s handsomeness. Then the undine promptly decided to treat her apprentice as her daughter.
By the end of the book, Sylvia had sworn off romance novels forever. The only way things could’ve been worse, was if a thousand-year-old demon had been pining over a teenage girl.
And the age gap was almost that bad!
“An apprentice is a student, nothing more, nothing less,” Lady Vallenfelt expounded.
Thus was it decided.
“Then I will take the third offer,” Sylvia said, reluctantly.
As an apprentice, Esmeralda would have little recourse if Sylvia just upped and ran. That made it, defacto, better than all the other options.
“I can still hear your thoughts,” Esmeralda reminded icily.
…
Fuck it. Who cared. What could Baroness Vallenfelt do after Sylvia reached the second consolidation? The silver haired witch would like to see the dean try and stop her!
“Then I best make certain to erase all vestiges of your prior life before that event comes to pass,” Lady Vallenfelt said with cool tones. “Impropriety aside, your choice pleases me. The oath will be made before the Heavenly Will. Your apprenticeship will remain informal, however, until after the Festival of Light.”
Well, at least Lady Vallenfelt wasn’t going to punish Sylvia for her thoughts.
“If I were to punish your thoughts, it would be for your incessant obscenities,” Esmeralda inserted. “However, I am of the firm belief that only action deserves discipline. No matter. We will begin the ceremony shortly. But first, I must know your name.”
“My name?” Sylvia questioned.
Surely the dean learned her name before offering an apprenticeship, right?
“Yes, your name. Oaths must be made with a true name, as only intent and meaning can be inscribed upon Akashic Record,” Lady Vallenfelt explained. “So tell me, Sylvia Swallows, what is your name?”
Ether echoed.
Words spoken in the nether carried intent. A psychic flux, reverberating through the ether. Names, by convention, were conveyed as mere sound. To do otherwise was a faux pas. A malicious speaker could tie a name to anything, even nude depictions. An honest speaker would unwittingly project, casting concepts and ideas without consent.
True names, however, were more than just sound.
Sylvia Swallows.
The dean spoke those words conveying two images.
The first conjured in Sylvia’s mind a forest. Silver leaves glowed under the moonlight, a beauty of light and shadow. A brave band of adventures stood at the forest’s edge. They entered, never to be seen again. Sylvia Swallows, the forest that devours all who dare intrude upon its domain.
A magnificent name for a demon.
The second image drew contrast with the first. A forest, this time in the brilliance of daylight. Verdant leaves covered endless vales and meadows. Then, from the canopy, burst a flock of swallows. They flapped their wings, showing their shiny, blue coats.
Sylvia Swallows. A dazzle of the wild.
“You need not choose either. But as my apprentice, I require that your name be pleasing to my ear.”
The nebula within the dean’s eyes rolled, filled with twinkling twilight. In the stillness was born a suspicion that ‘Sylvia Swallows’ was not a name chosen by accident. Esmeralda had long before thought of both meanings.
Perhaps she’d chosen them before Sylvia birth.
No wonder Professor Myers failed to remove the trailing ‘s’.
In a different scenario, Sylvia might have thought long and deep and found a name for herself. In front of the dean, Sylvia’s master, she did not wish to carefully ponder a new meaning. And what was wrong with that? Children didn’t choose their name, their parents did.
“Sylvia – ”
She stopped. In her mind the silver forest floated. Sylvia liked the image. The concept. But it wasn’t right. Swallow. Like the bird. Sylvia had reminded others of that fact over and over again.
How could the answer be different now?
“I guess I’ll go with Sylvia Swallows.”
-oOo-
The ceremony took a full hour.
Grand oaths required sacrifice. Of blood. Of mind. Of soul. The three essences of life were offered to the Heavenly Will. With them, The Will would know her name and shape no matter how far she traveled or in what form. Then came the oath itself. Sylvia swore to take Esmeralda Vallenfelt as her teacher, to uphold her legacy, and to never forsake her.
In return, Baroness Vallenfelt swore to guide her apprentice, to aid her growth, and to allow room for her student’s dreams and ambition.
Sylvia felt it was all rather corny. Then again, she’d never been one for ceremony. It had been painful enough to make her way through graduation.
Twice.
Because apparently graduating once wasn’t enough. Teachers forced their students through the horror twice. Once for high school. A second time for college.
Sylvia was so not looking forward to the formal apprenticeship ceremony which would be held after the Festival of Light.
In the end, Sylvia escaped Lady Vallenfelt’s office, feeling awkward and out of place.
“At least there was no punishment for sneaking out,” Sylvia mumbled to herself.
Nepotism for the win!
To kick off Sylvia’s apprenticeship, the dean had provided a reading list. Tarnished Gold detailed the events that led to the Utopia War – the first of the three great wars between Heaven and Hell. Sylvia found herself eager to open the text. She’d been looking for a good history which covered the start of the Silver Age for some time.
The second book was The Devil’s Decorum. It was, supposedly, The Prince with lessons on etiquette.
“I hope it’s more the former and less the latter,” Sylvia complained. “I also need to find a book on oaths and the Heavenly Will.”
Sylvia knew of oaths. Her reading list was broad. It wasn’t unusual to run into them. But Sylvia didn’t have a firm grasp of what, exactly, an oath meant. Mechanically as well as socially.
It was time to correct that error.
“Fuck, I hope oaths aren’t magically binding,” Sylvia grumbled. “I should’ve left. How bad could it be? I’m sure it’d work out. It always does in books and video games.”
Yeah. Right. She’d be working in a brothel before the end of the year. Sylvia wasn’t stupid enough to mistake games for reality.
Beyond completing her reading list, Sylvia now had to report to Vallenfelt Manor every Sunday. Poof! Just like that, Sylvia’s only free day had vanished. Normally, she would’ve been sad to see it go. Especially when her afternoons were to be spent with Kyna learning dance and deportment.
It was just that Sylvia was really, really sick of reading. Wizard Means Wise IV was an albatross wrapped around her neck. The beast’s claws were digging into her flesh, while its beak was tearing its way into her gut, hoping to eat her liver.
“In a few weeks, I’ll probably wish I was reading,” Sylvia laughed. Then she groaned. “Is this my life? Am I doomed to be slowly refined into the perfect witch?”
Emily, at least, was getting her wish. At this rate, Sylvia really would be transformed into a princess.
Flopping backward, Sylvia sank into the green grass. The silver haired girl gazed up at a lonely cloud as it made its way across an otherwise perfect blue sky. Sylvia had never been the ambitious type. She knew it. Charm club aside, she kind of liked life at the Academy.
It was relaxing.
Part of her just wanted to drift.
Drift and keep on drifting, not challenging the flow of the world.
“No,” Sylvia refuted. “I can’t keep drifting like this.”
Eric Swallow had drifted his whole life. He drifted through school. He drifted through college. He drifted until he ended up in a dead end job, watching his life circle the drain. Empty. Hollow. Purposeless.
As Sylvia Swallows, she refused to do the same. If she drifted, then one day Sylvia would find herself as vice dean of the Starlight Nether Witch Academy, berating some poor girl for improper dress and etiquette.
Shudder.
Sylvia wanted bigger. Grander. A life of color and wonder. Not a road of dull gray extending into forever.
And Sylvia already had everything she needed to seize it.
The only thing she lacked was the will. It was time to take charge of her life. And the first step was to confront the elephant in her soul.
“Who are you.”
Sylvia’s sharp demand was made to thin air. Birds chirped. Wind whistled. There was no answer.
Sylvia sat up.
Her navy blue robes were damp with morning dew. Nether History was in progress. Sylvia was missing her quarterly tests, but Lady Vallenfelt already made clear that Sylvia would take those tests later. This left Sylvia with an hour of quiet to decide her future.
“I’m not stupid. You wrote it into the event log: administrative override,” Sylvia challenged. “Stop playing games. You wanted me in the netherworld. Well, I’m here.”
Arms spread, Sylvia waited in silence.
The quiet lingered.
Frustrated, she stood.
Her wooden dorm was to the south, three stories of housing rising above the trees. Near it, and to the east, was the resurrection pool. The forbidding Gothic structure loomed like the gargoyles perched on its arches. The cold stone divergent from the flowery beauty of the Academy’s paths.
Even now, Vallenfelt’s sentries patrolled it.
“Maybe I should just tell Vallenfelt the truth. She already swore an oath to protect me. And there’s a good chance she’ll find you when she starts poking around in my soul.”
Sylvia wasn’t joking.
The System could obscure her thoughts, but could it hide her skill? The baroness had said nothing about Sylvia’s ability to fast cast, but sooner or later her teacher was going to notice. If the truth was going to out, then it was better to come clean right at the start.
Ding!
Against all odds, the System responded. When she read the window, Sylvia’s expression soured.
New Quest: Netherworld Recruitment (Esmeralda Vallenfelt)
By luck and fortune, the User has become an apprentice to Baroness Esmeralda Vallenfelt. The Baroness is a powerful individual in the Timeless Beryl Wilderness and will be of great help to the User’s future success. However, the User’s secrets serve as a barrier to this relationship.
Develop your connection to Baroness Vallenfelt, then reveal the System. Boldly recruit your master to the System’s cause, laying a steady foundation in the netherworld.
Quest Reward:
* 5000 merit points
* A confidant with which to share the System’s secrets
Objectives
[ ] Form a good relationship with Esmeralda Vallenfelt.
[ ] Reveal the System to Esmeralda Vallenfelt.
[ ] Convince Esmeralda Vallenfelt to swear herself as the System’s vassal.
Quest Failure:
This quest will fail if the System is revealed to Esmeralda Vallenfelt and she rejects the System’s offer. Note that any unauthorized disclosure, including by this quest, will result in the System locking itself in safe mode, depriving the User of all System functions.
…
Sylvia’s teeth ground. “You fucking!”
Angrily, the silver haired girl seized the window and brutally folded it into paper airplane. With a sharp flick, she sent it into the sky, where it circled elegantly on the wind.
Only to turn back and dive straight into her hat.
Sylvia’s eye twitched.
The ordinarily cold and emotionless System was mocking her.
“Is that supposed to be a joke? You want Vallenfelt as your damned vassal. Do you think I was born with a silver tongue?”
Worse, if she revealed the System and Esmeralda wasn’t willing to become the System’s vassal, Sylvia would lose the System’s support. Maybe temporarily. Maybe forever.
Fuck. That was an outright threat, wasn’t it?
Shit. Lady Vallenfelt was right. Sylvia was a poisoned fruit and now that Esmeralda had plucked her, the System wanted to lure the dean into its schemes.
“This isn’t over,” Sylvia said, pointing a finger at the window. “I’m going to find out who you are. And I’m going to make you talk.”
The rectangular window floated in the air, indifferent to the trials and tribulations of the world.
…
…
…
“Okay, okay. At least tell me what merit points are.”
Ding!
New Feature: Merit Points
The System is happy to introduce merit points. Merit points are a form of currency that can be used to buy System Items or unlock System Features. Like System Items, merit points cannot be traded with other Users.
Merit points can be obtained by completing quests, collecting information, or taking any action that aids the System’s goal and agenda. Please assist the System’s development and enjoy a bountiful reward.
As soon as the window appeared, the event log started to scroll, showing the rewards she had collected thus far.
Reward: +100 pts – Bloodline Code: Hecates Magissa Asteri (Sample 1/100)
Reward: +35 pts – Nether code: Soul-Space Silver
Reward: +5 pts – Enchantment code: Space Bag (Common)
Reward: +3 pts – Nether code: Wood Essence (Beryl Pine)
After scanning through the list, Sylvia detected a pattern. Virtually every reward related to an item she’d thrown into her space bag. Conspicuously absent were the numerous books Sylvia had read.
The final tally was 237 merit points.
… And if there were merit points….
Paging through a few screens, Sylvia found the merit shop. The shop consisted of a deep, nested list of items and features. Most of which were grayed out and marked unavailable.
Curious, Sylvia expanded the communication section.
The features web, chat, forums, phone, and video were listed. The latter two required unlocking the microphone and camera functions first.
Sylvia stared.
“I’m not alone,” she concluded.
She wasn’t alone. There were others like her. How did she know for certain? Because if Sylvia was the only one with a System, then why was there a forum feature?
This had major implications.
Sylvia’s fingers itched. She wanted to unlock the communication features and figure out who else had been dragged onto this crazy adventure.
She resisted.
Sylvia might not be alone in having a System, but she was almost certainly alone here in the netherworld. Sylvia’s System appeared seventeen years ago. It took around fifty for a soul to pass through Unus Mundus. Unless the System had been around for half a century, or someone else found a lucky invitation, Sylvia’s situation was unique.
“RPGs only became common in the ninety’s,” Sylvia mused.
It was a stretch, but by using this fact, Sylvia guessed the System’s age wasn’t much greater than her own.
“Alone or not, if the System is introducing chat functions there are others. And that means I have to make good use of my head start.”
Sylvia felt excited, pressured, disappointed, and energized. It was a microcosm of the human condition. Everyone wanted to be special, yet nobody wanted to be alone. Here Sylvia was, playing through a single player game, only to see names shining on the ground after popping an ember.
The silver haired witch formed a wicked grin. “I wonder if any of them will get gender bent into a witch.”
As the saying went, misery loves company.
Skimming through the shop, Sylvia found a familiar item. Blank skill book, 1000 merit points. It appeared the System was looking to move away from quest specific rewards in favor of merit points. Oh. That was interesting. Sylvia could also buy ordinary skill books for 700 merit points.
Pity the System only had one.
Sylvia clicked into the library to take a gander. Lesser Codex, excellent, 700 merit – this skill book was created by Sylvia Swallows.
“How the fuck is that useful?” Sylvia’s eye twitched. What was the point of buying books she’d already used? Wait. “I see. I earn one merit point every time somebody buys a book I created.”
…
…
Know what, screw uniqueness. Lady Vallenfelt should recruit a million System bearing witches pronto. That way Sylvia could turn around and buy a thousand blank skill books.
He he. Ascent to godhood in one bold move.
Actually, come to think of it, why was there only one book in the System library? The silver haired witch stroked her smooth chin. Could it be that the books on wind blade and cultivation were too shit for the System?
…
She’d contemplate it later. Mood buoyed, Sylvia closed the System window. The day was starting to look good.
Thirty minutes later, Sylvia walked into charm club.
-oOo-
Elements
Within the domain of magic, an element is defined as a type of ether energy, taking the form of a solution, for which pure runes exist. Ether energies can also exist as emulsions or suspensions. These are not elements. Nor are ether solutions for which there are no associated pure runes. Instead, these kinds of energies are known as aspects.
There are twenty-four elements. These elements are divided into three domains: Primordial, Life, and Chaos. Elements can be primary, secondary, and advanced. Primary elements exist as pure energies. Secondary elements are solutions generated through the mixture of two primary elements. Advanced elements can only be generated by catalyzing their ether components.
Primordial
Primary: Wind, Fire, Earth, Water
Secondary: Lightning, Metal, Wood, Ice
Advanced: Cataclysm, Abyss, Nature, Sky
The Primordial domain contains the physical forces. These are energies which produce tangible impact on the universe. Most phantasmal substances contain large helpings of Primordial energy.
The number of Primordial elements is twice that of life and chaos. It is also the only domain to have secondary elements and conflicting elements. Of the three domains, Primordial ether is the most abundant. This is particularly true on the major planes, where is makes up around 97% of the ether. Even in the starry void, 75% of the ether is Primordial.
Because Primordial ether is extremely common, mages almost exclusively use the Primordial elements for combat. Life and Chaos domain spells are not easily supplemented with ether, meaning that in real world terms the mana cost of these magics is between 2x to 10x that of Primordial magic.
Life
Primary: Blood, Soul, Psychic
Advanced: Mutation, Dream, Anima
The Life domain reflects the concepts of life. Blood is the energy of the body and gives birth to ki. Psychic is the energy of the mind and gives birth to mana. Soul is the foundation of immortality, rebirth, and transformation. The actual physical shape of living phantasms is defined by the Primordial domain, melded with abundant Blood elemental essence.
On common planes, the Life ether makes up 2.5% of the mix. However, this lack of abundance is deceptive. By hunting and killing phantasmal beasts, life ether can be easily harvested. Life is only rare as a constituent of the atmosphere.
Life ether is practically non-existent in the starry void.
The Life domain contains the single most feared elements in the netherworld. Soul, Dream, and Mutation all have the ability to affect immortal beings. The Soul element can be used to capture. The Dream element can be used to alter not just the mind, but the very core of one’s being. Mutation can distort the soul’s shape and the body reflected by the code and is thus the source of the netherworld’s most horrible curses.
Despite its rarity, Life domain elements are the easiest to nature. A mage’s body, after all, is always a repository of all three forms of ether. In a pinch, this same ether can also be used to fuel spells, though at a brutal burden to the caster.
Chaos
Primary: Space, Void, Causality
Advanced: Realm, Fate, Law
The Chaos domain defines the rules of existence. Chaos is the firmament on which all else exists. World logic is born from chaos. So too are the planes themselves.
Chaos ether is the rarest of the three domains, making up a tiny fraction of the atmosphere of the planes. In the starry void it is more common, consisting of 25% of the ether, but the density of ether there is a mere tenth of that found on the major worlds. This makes working with Chaos elements difficult, as even condensing the ether to nature a spell can be a challenge.
Chaos magics are often weird, being highly abstract. Causality is used to divine knowledge, while Fate can play with cause and effect or even void the logical connection between events. Space defines areas which may be stretched or twisted while Realm can violate the laws of locality allowing for magical gates and teleportation. Void decides what is true and false, whereas Law can be used to rewrite world logic however a mage may wish.