“...He is not here, like always,” Ernith said, gazing into the direction of the north-western part of the core city. Seeing the mist in his eyes, his mother sighed, and gently patted his head.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “He will come.”
Grumbling to himself, Ernith gave the North-western Altar Road another look, before pushing his mother’s hand away from his head, and turning towards the Origin Altar. Placed right in the middle of the central plaza, and consequently, the entire city, the Origin Altar, or the Altar of Origin, was an obsidian black stele, standing on a stepped circular platform, raising the base of the stele higher than anyone’s head.
Ernith had always considered himself quite tall for his age, almost coming up to the shoulders of his mother, but when he saw how large the stele was, for the first time in a while he felt that he was not tall enough. Shaped in the form of a stepped tower carved on a circular base, the stele was at least twice as tall as him, and just as wide, if not more. However, the most eye catching thing about the Origin Altar was not its size, but the countless Glyphs carved along its entire length, giving it an odd, and mysterious look, that screamed of fascination, and wonder.
Even more wondrous though was the man dressed in black, and golden robes, who climbed the steps of the platform, and walked up to the Origin Altar, just as Enn reached his Zenith, signalling the time for the Spirit Awakening Ritual. From the way he carried himself, and from the fact that he was up on the circular platform, it was certain that the man was a Wanderer. What Ernith wondered was what kind of a Wanderer was the man?
He did not have to wonder for long though, as soon after climbing next to the Origin Altar, the Wanderer took out a small circular disc, and a carving knife, before beginning to carve something on the disc. Unfortunately, Ernith was standing near the back end of the plaza, right next to the Northwestern Altar Road, and as such, was not able to see what the Wanderer was carving. Though from the pace at which the Wanderer was carving on the disc, he doubted whether he would have been able to see anything even had he been right next to the Wanderer.
While Ernith was lost in his thoughts, gazing at the Wanderer, the disc in the latter’s hand burst forth with a golden light, which then soon detached itself from the disc, flying away from the Wanderer, and into the Altar beside him, submerging into its surface. In response, the Glyphs on the Altar soon shone in an even brighter golden light, before they detached themselves from the Altar, and started revolving around it, shifting their places, and rearranging themselves while they were at it, drowning everyone in their awe.
It was not as if Ernith had never seen Glyphs being activated. He had seen both his mother, and father activate Glyphs back at home, and soon, he would be able to activate them himself. Yet, those were just normal Glyphs that kept themselves attached to the objects they were engraved on. Not like the ones on the Altar. Only a Scholar, a Wanderer specialising in the field of Glyphs, could activate Glyphs like that.
The Scholar at the Altar did not even show the usual signs of drawing on Oren, the unadulterated power of the Origin Sea, to activate the Glyphs. Whenever his mother had to activate the Glyphs, she would always close her eyes for a few moments, and concentrate a little. The Scholar, however, just stood there, facing the people in the plaza, not even looking at the Glyphs. Yet the Glyphs still shone, as if they were acting on their own, drawing all the Oren they needed to be activated from the Origin Sea by themselves.
Ernith, of course, knew that was not the case. He did not know how the Glyphs were working, but at the very least he had seen the golden light drilling out of the disc in the Scholar’s hands, before merging into the Altar. That was enough to tell him who was activating the Glyphs. Still, being able to activate Glyphs without even touching them was awe inspiring in itself, and a bit enigmatic as well. After all, it was the first time he was seeing Glyphs behave in such erratic way.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Unable to subdue his curiosity, he tried to peruse through the Glyphs shining in the air. Unfortunately, that proved a little too difficult for him to do so. Standing at the far end of the central plaza, all he could see of the Glyphs were just glowing blobs of golden light. The Glyphs were too far from him. And too bright as well. And though the light of Glyphs gradually dimmed, they did not stop moving. Quickly rearranging themselves, they flew back onto the surface of the stele, giving a faded golden glow.
“My fellow brothers, and sisters,” the Scholar said, using his powers to make his voice reverberate across the entire plaza. “Today, on the first day of the month of Ilea, the day that the Goddess of Luck and Good Fortune is said to be closest to our world, we are going to witness another miracle created by us, humans, and Wanderers. For today, our children will enter the Origin Sea for the first time, and lay their Roots…”
With the mesmerising Glyphs fading away into the stele, Ernith soon lost his interest in the Scholar, while the thoughts of his father and his promise came to the fore again, forcing him to shift his gaze to the North-western Altar Road. It had always been like this. His father would always say that he would come, that he would be there for him. But in the end, he never was. He was always in the core city, working for the Redbud family. Mostly to help test their Arcanas. Arcanas. It was always the Arcanas. They were always more important than him.
“Don’t look so glum,” his mother said, caressing the back of his head. “The ceremony will take some time. Let’s wait for a bit longer.”
“It’s fine,” Ernith said. “I always knew it was going to be like this.”
“He will come,” his mother said. “We will just have to go through the ceremony a little later than the others.”
Ernith did not reply, nor did he look at his mother. He did not wish for her to see his face. He was going to be a Wanderer. A Warrior. He was no longer a child. He could not let her see the tears in his eyes. And so, he turned away from her, and faced the Altar, clenching his fist, and hiding them in the cuffs of his sleeves. Promises should not be broken, he said to himself. It would have been better if his father had not promised at all.
Why was he so hung up on Arcanas anyway? What was he so proud of? He had only created one Arcana, ever. Ernith did not know what it was, but it was probably not something too great. His father had said that it was what had allowed him to become an Arcanist, but at the same time, it had also left his father too afraid to give it his all in trying to create Arcanas. And so, as a Wanderer, he was forever stuck at the Initial Stage of False Rank.
Ernith did not know what that meant, but he knew enough to know that a False Rank Wanderer was the lowest of the low amongst Wanderers. And that his father did not create Arcanas anymore. Instead, as a retainer of the Redbud family, his only task was to test the Arcanas that the members of the Redbud family created or were in the process of creating. It was much safer than creating new Arcanas, he had said.
If he was only trying out the Arcanas created by others, then why was he still not coming to him on the day of his Spirit Awakening? Could he not have done it a day later? Why, on one of the most important days of his life, on the day that he was about to lay his Roots, was his father still not with him? Why was he still breaking his promise? Would he be with him if he became an Arcanist, and created Arcanas?
“...Becoming Wanderers would not be easy, and many of you would fail in your path. But if you do not even have the courage to face that failure, if you do not even have the courage to overcome your fears, how can you become Wanderers? It is said that a Wanderer’s journey starts in the Origin, and ends in the Origin. But the truth is that a Wanderer’s journey is endless. And it is time for the children, for the future of our world, to take their first step of that endless journey. To step into the Origin Sea, and lay their Roots. Let the children come to the Altar one by one…”