Daily routines were good for John, they kept him grounded, gave him control of his world. Wake up, work out, decide on something productive to do with his day. A predetermined path kept his mind on track, silencing the chaos that loomed in the moments of uncertainty. Today was the day of Calyton's rescue operation and he had to wait. Waiting was always the worst part of it, especially knowing there were scared children out there being kidnapped and exploited. He knew that he needed to fill the time wisely while he had it, even if all he wanted was for it to be over. For the necessary violence he knew might come in helping these innocents to be over and done with.
He started the day like always stretching his sleep-stiffened muscles. Their tightening and releasing becoming a physical form of meditation. As he breathed in rhythm with his movements, he saw his reflection against the dark windows, backlit by the still dim interior lights. He moved through a series of Guardian asanas, physical stretches and exercises taught to him and his cousins during their summer visits to the reservation. These poses were originally intended as physical challenges for the ancestral tribe's warriors. As he transitioned from one pose to the next, a sheen of sweat broke on his skin, cooled by the whispering ventilation system.
Clayton had told him about the missing children, most of whom were of Guardian decent. John was certain Clayton hadn't directly spoken to the council elders about this, choosing to avoid them as much as possible. His avoidance stemmed from a deep-rooted bitterness: the Guardians, Clayton believed, were responsible for his daughter's death, and many others besides. John's aunt held similar views but it was before Johns time, and buried too deep for him to go prying about.
However, Liz also saw value in the ancient guardian teachings and made sure that John and her daughters were exposed to them. Although John attended the lessons and heard the elders as they spoke, he couldn't share their faith in Loreth, the creator of the world according to their belief system. He had more immediate issues to grapple with than pondering over divine beings and the purpose of life.
Still, Clayton's insistence on thoroughness, mentally beaten into John over their years working together, meant that someone would have to approach the Guardians elders about the missing children soon. John owed his skill as a private investigator to Clayton, who had taken him under his wing after his dishonorable discharge from the military. The profession played to John's strengths – his uncanny memory, his knack for spotting patterns, and his quick learning were all strengths that had saved his life in high stress situations.
His emotions, quick to ignite and slow to disperse, were his real problem. His temper had cost him a university education, and later although not entirely, his military career. He always knew, in retrospect, what his reaction should have been, but he could never manage that control in the heat of the moment. Working under Clayton, he was thankfully shielded from taking the lead and had chances to vent his fury during difficult cases as the back up. This time though he knew that things would go smoother if he handled all communication with the elders.Their people were directly involved in this and they couldn’t be ignored.
The Guardians, as a people, had a higher number of magic users than the rest of Quorluna, let alone Sylverdol. No one knew if something marked them as special or if their people might be the original source of magic, mingling with the rest of the world. Ancient guardian teachings traced their lineage to the lost country of Atlans if you believed such things. Legend said the lost lands were across the seas east of Sylverdol and had fallen off the edge of the world.Their community, in combination with the Nexus of Balance helped maintain the secret of magic with limited loss of life where possible. Filious Vires on the other hand, when magic was exposed, would wipe out cities to keep their secret. They ruthless cut down anyone who potentially exposed the secret of magic to the world. Supposedly having ancient magics that could erase a person from existence, whenever something like this occurred. Whatever the case, the world at large was mostly unaware of magic. Hidden under the bodies of men,woman, and children who were deemed too much a risk to leave alive
Over thousands of years,magic while useful, always became an object of want and need for those without it. People would commit unspeakable atrocities in pursuit of even the smallest powers. WIth the discovery of blood magic, all magic users became subject to attack for the valuable and magical resource flowing in their veins. In the past Filious Vires had risen to stop the killing of those with magical blood and instead killed those without. Thus began the hundred years war. At least that was the most recent time it had happened, about 18,500 years ago. Prior to the dark age about 20,000 years ago no one knew anything about what had happened. All people knew that was once magic had been stronger, much stronger. A tool that everyone could use and relly on. Then something had happened and the magic had died, dwindling until people had begun to depend on technology. WIth that new dependence on technology and scientific advancement though, the resentment and greed to obtain magic began.
The Guardians had steeped up to protect both those with and without magic. Attempting to bring together what was left of the old knowledge with the new advancement being created in our world. They believed that a public revelation of magic would spark an unprecedented witch hunt, echoing the atrocities of a thousand years ago, and did their best to stop it from becoming known wherever possible. This fear stemmed from a time when magic users were almost exterminated but they had survived, subtly blending in with the global population, and were slowly regaining their strength.The Guardians, true to their heritage, kept their beliefs and culture alive as the original inhabitants of what would one day become the country of Sylverdol.
The asanas John performed were a part of this cultural preservation. They were meant to channel and balance emotions, an area John struggled with, hence his practice. He didn't know if any of it actually worked but it sure as hell made his muscle scream. As he moved through a difficult form, he focused on his breath, steadying his center.
After completing his exercises,he showered and prepared to begin the day. Walking out of the steaming hot bathroom he quickly threw own his clothes and went to his work room. He began the task of cleaning his firearms and arranging his equipment. John checked that the barrel was clean and took out each component methodically, inspecting them one by one. After close inspection and approval they were cleaned and reinserted into the guns. John had his magic of course but these were always his first line of defense. The less he had to rely on the powers the better. He truly didn’t know if they could be relied on at all.
On a large desk cluttered with computer monitors, small spheres were lined along its length. Across their surface, runes were etched in swirling script. The words a combination of the Guardian runes. “Find and stun” it read.
John waved his hand over his computers screen booting them to life due to his proximity. He didn't possess his father's natural talent for invention, but he had taught himself programming and engineering. The logic behind programming and the creativity of tinkering with a machine always helped calm his mind. Something about the slow mindless work, fixing something over and over again until it finally worked brought him joy. He scanned his messages, making sure he wasn’t missing anyone. There was a message from Richard about meeting up. There was another from his cousin, she like having him screen her research papers from time to time. Him being the only person in the family that seemed able to keep up with her thoughts and technical babble as his cousin max called it. He turned from the computer. It was time for him to head to the Guardian reservation.
Dawn had hardly lifted the veil of night as John stepped out onto the still-sleeping streets of Quorluna. Even the city, a living entity of steel and glass, seemed to hold its breath in the early hours, quietly humming with the pulse of distant machines. Shivering slightly in the crisp morning air, he pulled his jacket closer around him. His nose immediately went numb as he made his way towards the subways system.
Navigating the labyrinthine cityscape, he soon found himself descending into the bowels of Sylverdols subways system, the city's arteries that pumped life from its heart to its farthest reaches. The trains, like metallic beasts, roared through the tunnels, their lights piercing the subterranean gloom. John could feel the vibrations in his boots as one passed nearby. Calmly he waited on a deserted platform for the train to the guardian reservation to arrive. Usually one passed every hour, unless there was a problem further down the track that hadn't not been reported to the local news yet.
John saw the dim light in the mawing distance of the tunnel and took a step further back from the edge of the platform. It rattled to a screeching halt and with a grinding the car doors opened to allow John on.
John stepped aside as an elderly woman stepped off the train car first.
"Well thank you my child"
"Of course." John said with a smile and a small bow of his head.
John got on and with another grinding the doors closed behind him. He stood off to one side and grabbed on to a rail above his head. Feeling the slight swaying that always tested its passages balance the train began towards the reservation. It took a few moments but after passing two other platforms they emerged out into the brightening scar light. They rattled through the city, the towers growing smaller and smaller around them as they traveled. As the journey wore on, the bright mirrored lights of Quorluna's center gradually dimmed. The polished surfaces of the city's beating heart were slowly replaced by a patchwork of cracked tiles and defiant graffiti - the indelible ink of the city's downtrodden.
This was the slums of Qorluna, its shame and failure. They sprawled across the city's outskirts to the west like a defiant stain. It was a world apart from the glimmering skyscrapers where business in their fancy suits ran the country and women in dresses that cost enough to feed multiple family's threw outrageous parties. Deteriorating buildings, their once proud bricks bared and weather-worn, loomed overhead. Vines and weeds wrestled with the masonry, gnarling around the rusted iron and splintered wood in a relentless battle between nature and man. It was a miracle some buildings stood standing, held together by a blend of nature and man that would eventually give way to time.
The streets were filled with potholes and rubble, a testament to the city's neglect. Yet, life thrived in the cracks and crevices of the decay. Stray dogs lounged in the scar-light, makeshift markets bustled, and the bright, untamed laughter of children filled the air outside.
Through this urban jungle the train continued, stopping at the only functioning platform within the Slums were two young men entered the train as well. Moments after leaving the platform the tall buildings gradually receded, giving way to the gnarled silhouettes of trees. The rumble of the city softened to the whispering rustle of leaves. The neon glow was replaced by the dappled scar-light filtering through the thick canopy.
Sylverdol had dedicated a large portion of its land to the guardian people. Once there had been fights and debates to move the line that determined its borders but it had always remained the same. After realizing they could no longer expand west, the government of Qorluna had begun looking to the south. Large expansions of urban development to the south of the city like the county in which John's aunt lived had been developed rapidly. The portions of the city between its downtown proper and the guardian reservation were all but forgotten. Buildings were deserted and roads were allowed to waste away. Quorluna had built its city as much as it could, right up to the border of the reservation and then turned its back on the mess it left there.
The Guardian Reservation, in contrast, was a verdant oasis amidst the concrete desert. It was something the country like to boast about when marketing for tourists to visit. The forest stood majestic and wild, an echo of an older, purer world. A symphony of bird songs greeted him, while the cool scent of moss and damp earth filled the air. As he stepped off the train and onto the platform he walked across the large parking lot and down one of the trail's into the forest. Here, the chaos of Sylverdol felt like another world, a distant memory. Here, amidst the towering trees and the dappled scar-light, There was a sense of peace, a harmony that the city lacked.
As John ventured deeper into the forest, the ambiance changed subtly. The air seemed thicker, resonating with a latent power that thrummed against his skin. He had walked less than a mile when he felt it. An invisible force brushed against him, like the delicate touch of a spider's web but he felt the warmth of magic, sending a shiver up his spine. This was the ward that safeguarded the Guardian village, a mystical boundary invisible to the uninitiated.
Almost immediately, he felt a shift in the surroundings. Shadows seemed to stir, the quiet rustling of leaves and the gentle sway of branches fell into an eerie silence. Then, as if materializing from the very air, figures began to appear. Guardian scouts, their forms cloaked in colors of the forest, materialized from the undergrowth. It was as if the forest had breathed life into them. Their faces, painted with intricate patterns, were solemn yet welcoming.
One of the men clasped his hands together and bowed at the waste. A history filled with magic made these people careful about physical contact.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
John clasped his hands and returned his own deep bow before saying, "Hello Jiresh. I have questions for the one of the elders if anyone is available."
The oldest of the men, their leader nodded, "Boleck is off in the city right now, Catrel is on his way back from a trip to the west coast, and most of the rest are currently in the middle of council meeting. I believe mistress Ataya was free. I saw her walking in the square."
"She isn't joining in whatever the other council elders are talking about?"
Jiresh shook his head sadly, "They talk about dark things in there. She chooses to stay out of it as much as possible and will only get involved if they need a vote to break a tie"
John nodded. Any of the elders would know about what was going on if it involved Guardian children being kidnapped. She was as good as any. Jiresh motioned with his head to follow and continued down the way John had been traveling before meeting them. The scouts moved with an uncanny grace, their steps making no more noise than the falling of a leaf. Leading him through the undergrowth, they navigated the labyrinthine forest with an ease borne of generations of intimacy with the land.
As they journeyed deeper, the forest began to thin out, revealing the heart of the Guardian village. The village was a harmonious blend of nature and craftsmanship, an embodiment of the Guardians' respect and reverence for the earth. Here, the city felt like a world away, and the slums seemed a fleeting nightmare. For in this sacred space, only the song of the wind and the rhythm of life prevailed.
They arrived at the edge of the village, and John was struck anew by the sight that met his eyes. A tableau of wooden structures stood amidst the forest, their natural materials blending seamlessly with the surrounding trees. It was as if the forest had opened its heart and cradled the village within its bosom, embracing the people who lived in harmony with its rhythm.
The focal point of the village was Harmony Hall, the largest structure and the heart of the community. It stood tall and firm, like the ancient trees surrounding it. Carvings depicting the Guardians' lore and beliefs covered its wooden exterior, telling tales of bravery, sacrifice, and unity. To the east stood the grand Temple. Its spire reaching above the treetops. John knew from experience the breathtaking view of the forest and the sprawling city that could be found there.
John began to navigate his way towards the Hall, his footsteps softened by the verdant undergrowth. However, before he could get far, a figure emerged from a side path. Dressed in traditional Guardian attire, the woman's face bore the intricate markings of the tribe's elders. It looked like John was in luck, he wouldn't have to search for the elder. She’d found him.
"Johnny?" she greeted him, her voice carrying the musical lilt of the Guardian's tongue. "What are you doing here?" Her eyes, sharp and intense, studied him with a blend of curiosity and respect.
John groaned at the nickname that still seemed to stick here. His summers with the guardians had been enjoyable times. He had made many close connections during that time.
John clasped his hands and bowed deeply to Ataya, " Hello mother. I am helping with the investigation into the recent kidnappings. I was hoping i could speak with you about it. If I'm interrupting you i can wait until the speaker is available."
Atay smiled and laughed, "Someones lucky today. I am actually the speaker for this turn, "she led him down a path and then added somberly, " and luckily for me the speaker can abstain from certain decisions unless a tie breaking vote is needed."
Ataya led John through winding paths, each turn revealing more of the village's natural charm. There was a timeless quality to this place, as if the rhythm of life here was tuned to a different clock, one that beat in harmony with the pulse of the earth.They finally reached the Great Harmony Hall, the heart of the village. Even at this early hour, the hall was abuzz with activity. Elders, draped in ornate tribal garments, were engaged in fervent discussions, while younger members of the tribe scurried about, their roles as aides evident in their dutiful movements.
"Someone out there caught Filious Vires's attention??" asked John.
Ataya nodded sadly, " A young girl. Poor thing has no control over her powers. Keeps bringing the dead back to life around her, and without any direction. Well, it hasn't been pretty. The nexus of balance is sending a team and we are sending our representatives as well."
While the guardians and the nexus both said they wanted the same thing they never actually seemed interested in helping each other. That interested John. Anyone of the guardian's he asked would say they strove to protect the human species, both magical and not. The Nexus said the same thing. They were more recently formed, by generations of citizens within Sylverdol who saw the atrocities that Filious Vires was willing to go to to cover up magic and felt that the guardian's efforts to save such victims was bearing no fruit. But some distrust kept the nexus and the guardians from formally combining their efforts and sharing their resources.
Ataya motioned for John to follow her into a secluded section of the hall, a space that breathed an air of solemnity.
"But you aren't here to talk about that. We have another problem it seems"
Once inside, she turned to him, her gaze serious. "John," she began, "We appreciate you taking an interest in this as well, all of the elders, myself included, are deeply concerned about these events. We have been conducting our own inquiries, but our resources are limited and we haven't been very successful."
Ataya paused, her eyes meeting John's. "We want to help. We hope to be of some help to your investigation. In return, we ask for your discretion and respect for our traditions and customs."
John nodded. So she knew why he had come today. Despite his personal reservations about their beliefs, at least their belief about their god and creation, he recognized the gravity of the situation. He was prepared to work together with them, for the sake of the missing children and the peace of Quorluna.
Ataya's gaze softened as she continued, "Our children...they were not the only ones taken, but they formed a significant portion of those missing. We've found that all of the children who were taken showed some evidence of magic."
John blinked in surprise, but remained silent, letting Ataya continue.
She gestured towards a small table beside them. Upon it sat a variety of tribal artifacts and a small glass vial filled with a luminous liquid. "John," she began, "You know our people practice what is known as 'blood magic.' It has such a bad conotation but it is not evil in itself. We believe that the divine blessings, or magic as you call it, is not an external force but a part of what makes all creation. It is within us, flowing through our veins. The intensity of a person's magic, or their connection to the divine blessings, can be gauged through its concentration in the blood. That intensity is what we call magic and we can see it in those that are truly blessed"
This part wasn't anything new to John, but he did his best to keep from rolling his eyes. Whether magic was a part of him or something he could grab made no difference to him in this moment. He knew that the stronger the magic users powers, the stronger their blood magic but had never thought that it went as far as the reason for having magic at all. It was intriguing, even a little unnerving, but what did that have to do with the missing kids.
Ataya picked up the vial, her fingers delicately encircling it. "The children were not chosen at random. Each of them had a strong connection to the divine blessings, stronger than most in their generation. Someone is selecting these children based on their potential for magic."
John absorbed this information, his mind spinning. The pieces were beginning to come together, painting a worrying picture. This wasn't a series of isolated incidents, it was targeted. The kidnapper was hunting magic users, and they seemed to have a way to discern the strength of their victims' magic. The implications were dire, and the stakes were escalating quickly. This was no longer just a missing persons case, it was a race against a clock they couldn't see. And why only children if it was magic they were after. Was it just easier for them to be caught?
At least in the very worst case scenario, he had a final destination. He would get them back. John thought of the painting depicting the Sovarian lab and the children being experimented on with distaste and shuddered. They were looking for magic children , and not all of them were going to survive the trip if he didn’t save them first. Maybe they all would survive if he put a stop to whoever was behind this.
“It is such a shame what happens to our peopl, to anyone blessed by the gods. We give thanks to Lorenth for blessing our people above others but these gifts also bring us to ruin. Better that we had never received magic in the first place. This gift is too much of divinity for mortals to ever hope to survive.”
John thought it was such an odd thing to say,” Dont we say that is what makes us special?”
“Yes special. But im not sure that the cost is worth it. There must be a limit at which the cost is too great for a mortal to accept. Must we always be persecuted for something we never chose?”
John probed deeper, his mind mulling over the puzzle. “Ataya, is there anything in common among the children beyond their connection to magic? Anything peculiar that could set them apart?”
Ataya took a moment, considering his question. Her gaze held a thoughtful look as she dug into her memory. “Aside from their significant connection to the divine blessings, these children were ordinary. They belonged to various families, were of different ages, and exhibited no unique strengths or weaknesses. To put it simply, they had their own individualities like any other child. No discernible pattern that we could find.”
John nodded, taking in the information. No shared lineage, no unique traits, just their connection to the divine blessings, their magic. Whoever was taking these children had a way of identifying their magical potential, but that was the only lead they had.
Ataya sighed in frustration, "I am sorry John. I wish i had more to offer."
John bowed his head," You've helped me alot with this already. Thank you speaker. Please keep watch on the children still here. The rest will be back soon. I promise"
As Ataya bowed in gratitude and thanked John, he prepared to leave. It was good he had come today. Even if they didn't know how the children were being taken they knew why and it was more than they'd had before. At least he hoped it was new information for Clayton. It would be nice if the man shared more of his plan with John. The man never shared where he got his ideas from and would disappear for days, suddenly coming back with a new lead or evidence to assist in a long thought dead case. He still didn't know how Clayton had pinpointed Devito and Kierin as the kidnappers but Clayton hadn't felt the need to elaborate. That was ok though. Clayton was trying to do good in his own way and John could follow his own leads. Eventually they both ended up at the same place anyways.
As he walked towards the entrance of the hall he saw a lone figure sitting at a bench off to the side. From her cloak John could tell she was another of the elders. The meeting must have ended. From the faded cloak John would have never been able to tell that the young woman sitting before him was thousands of years old. One of the Immortals.
She looked young, too young to be a true Elder based on appearances along. This must be Aurora, one of the oldest guardian's alive. Her healing magic allowed her to remain young for ever. Very different from the Awakened whose bodies had stopped aging as part of their transformation. No one knew her true age and it was in part due to her existence that the role of Speaker could never be held by an individual for more than 1 year. Some said she had lived since the beginning, raising the Guardians and watching over her people as time moved on without her. That would mean she had lived through the witch hunts, the Hundred Years’ War, and maybe even knew the truth of what had happened to Atlan though she said she could no longer remember. No matter how hard John looked at her though, he only saw a young woman in her mid twenties.
Though her body healed, unfortunately the mind was not as resilient. It cracked and leaked over thousands of years of existence. Memories fading and blending until Aurora had trouble remembering who she was talking to or what era she lived in.
Before he could leave the hall she stood and held a hand to him in greeting. John smiled and walked over , hurrying so that she would not have far to go to him.
"Hello Mother" said John, using the title given to women of the Elder council.
Aurora smiled as he approached , "John! It’s so good to see you ."
John raised an eyebrow at that, surprise that she remembered him at all. She was notorious for misremembering names or forgetting where she was. The last time he had ever run into the Mother was had been years ago, when he still lived with his aunt. Since he had returned to Quorluna, he had not seen her during any prior trips into the Guardian reservations. Other elders had mentioned that Aurora had stepped back from her leadership roles, choosing to focus on a personal project. She'd started an orphanage for children on the streets and in the slums. Too many orphaned children roaming around was part of the reason no one had noticed what was happening for so long.
"I'm honored you remember me."
She smiled further but John's own faltered. There was something in her eyes, "Don't be. Son. Of. Gordon.”
John cocked his head befuddled as she enunciated each word, "you knew my father?
What had is father done to the Guardians, or had he personally offended the immortal mother?
"yes. I knew him well.A shame he never shows his face in Qorluna anymore. Well..... never say never. He might show up one day. Id appreciate it if you let me know if that ever happens" said Aurora still smiling.
"Of course. May i ask why you are looking for him?"
Aurora looked up at John. He dwarfed her by at least a foot in a half but it felt more like she was looking down on John, eyes cold and hard. The softened back almost immediately but the imprint remained.
"He took something of mine without asking and failed to provide what he offered. " She said,her smile brittle as ice as she laughed and patted johns arm to soothe his worried look, " I just want to have a talk, nothing to worry about dear. "
She pulled him in closer and lowered her voice ,"I hear you are looking for some of my children. Look for the candy man."
Interest piqued John leaned in, "The Candyman?"
Aurora nodded, "Apparently someone has been offering the missing children sweets. Little Ashley said her sister wouldn't share any the night she went missing from the orphange."
"Whats so suspicious about offering sweets to children?"
"I'm told he keeps a friend with him. Eyes are always covered but he points out the kids before Candyman offers anything. They wouldn't give Ashley any. Told her sister she had to eat it right then and there or she couldn't have any either. Said her sister was special."
She meant kids with magic.
Without another word, Aurora walked off and left John feeling very, very confused. At least he had something to go on now. DeVito might be setting up the transfer with Kierin but the Candyman was the one actually doing the kidnapping, whoever he was.Making his way back, John walked quickly out of the hall and back through the village.
Exiting the village, John's mind churned with the new lead Aurora had given him. The 'Candyman' and his mysterious friend seemed like their next targets. His mind swam with possibilities of who these people could be, how they were connected to the kidnappings, and what they planned to do next. And what was with Aurora’s fixation on his father? A man disappeared from the world for over 20 years now.