20. Spirit Society (IX)
Time to figure out how to channel his mana.
Raziel sat in a meditative pose and closed his eyes. He held the handle of his knife in his hands.
After his near-death experience, he found that he could easily visualize his mana system now. Before, he was a blind man sensing a distant fire, trying to map its dimensions by feeling alone.
Now he knew his soul was a blood jewel which soaked up all light.
He knew his meridians ran red.
Currently, his mana system operated on its own. If he wanted to manipulate it, then he needed a deeper connection with his own magic. That meant he needed to learn about himself.
Mana was extremely personal. It reflected one’s personality, experiences, and lifestyle.
As of right now, Raziel’s aura was quite bland, like a blank canvas. This was because he’d only awakened his soul recently.
In a few years his mana and aura would naturally deepen and develop character with more life experience. Raziel couldn’t wait - nor would he wish to, if given the choice. Neither Father Linus nor the wraith seemed to think Raziel’s age was an issue blocking him from mastering his mana.
At the Nexus, Father Linus even allowed Raziel to try activating the gateway, as though it wouldn’t be unusual if he were able to do it.
Raziel shook his head. He was thinking again.
Clearing his mind, he refocused.
Twelve meridians and two-hundred and eighty-seven capillaries blossomed outward, welcoming him home. However, Raziel only had eyes for the star of the show. His soul. It was hard to believe something that beautiful existed inside of him, the wild, F-Rank kid from the outskirts.
When Raziel’s consciousness traveled into his soul, his feet touched down, his form solidified.
Blood - no, mana - came up halfway to his calves, darkening his trousers. He stood in a giant circular pond of mana. At the heart of the pond floated a lotus the size of a room. The twist of its petals protectively shrouded a dais where three statues stood. Subtle was on the far left, Sublime on the far right.
A figure towered between the two hounds, their slender fingers reaching out hopelessly, a red ring sparkling on their middle finger. The top half of the statue was in ruins.
Raziel waded towards the dais.
A hand grabbed his arm. “Where do you think you’re going, Raventrash?” sneered a familiar voice.
It was Olster Wealcroft - or rather, a wispy shade of him. His eyes burned the same red as Raziel’s.
Stunned, Raziel allowed the boy to yank him into the pond. What the hell was Olster doing in his soul? He backhanded the white-haired boy, a satisfying crack ringing through the dome.
Luckily, this shade brawled worse than its flesh and blood counterpart.
He was about to launch a bevy of questions at the shade when several more shades materialized near them. Words dried up in his mouth, recognizing them all. His mother. His father. The other three True Family boys. Mayor Wealcroft. Last Wish. His ancestor. Kindred. There were even four copies of himself, their faces missing.
“You’re just an F-Rank,” said Olster. “Why haven't you killed yourself already? It’s not like you’ll be able to do anything with your life. Who’s stupid enough to waste resources on you when there are A-Ranks prodigies like me around?”
“Outskirter,” Huck Bastion spat in a clotted voice. “Filthy, inbred peasant.”
The Mayor’s gold monocle shone sinisterly. “Go back to school, child. How will anyone respect you if you can’t read?”
Ferrin Ravenbone glowered down at Raziel. “You are no son of mine.”
“It’s your fault!” sobbed Kindred. “Why couldn’t you save me?”
His ancestor laughed maniacally.
Raziel spun around, crowded on all sides. He faced one of his clones - but there was no mercy there either.
The faceless boy’s voice was pure ice. “Coward.”
Breaking away from the shades, Raziel ran up to the dais to put distance between them. Their baleful eyes followed him as they sank back into the pond.
Raziel had heard of these things - what were they called? Heart Devils?
The villagers got sick from them sometimes. When that happened, Father Linus exorcised the Heart Devils out of them and they returned to normal. Raziel clearly needed to request the same treatment from the priest.
He approached Subtle’s statue. A perfect depiction, carved in matte white stone. Raziel placed his hand on the beast's head and its eyes began to glow. The feelings of warmth and affection traveled up Raziel’s arm. There was also a hint of rebelliousness, as Raziel hadn’t exactly tamed him yet. He was very glad that [Elusive Dreamhounds] were much more docile than the [Vilehounds].
> [Subtle the Elusive Dreamhound]
>
> Level 1 Beast
>
> XP: 895/15000
>
> —------
>
> Species: Basic Hound
>
> Specialization: Spirit
>
> HP: 25/100
>
> Mana: 20/100
>
> —---------
>
> ABILITIES
>
> Common Abilities
>
> [Mind Sense] - Rank IV
>
> [Dream Rend] - Rank IV
>
> Uncommon Abilities
>
> [Spirit Claws] - Rank III
>
> [Entrance] - Rank II -> Rank III
>
> [Shapeshift] - Rank II -> Rank III
>
> Rare Abilities
>
> [Play Dead] - Rank I
“Your XP went up,” praised Raziel, trying to distract himself from the thought of the shades. “And you ranked up your [Entrance] and your [Shapeshift] too. Well done.”
Subtle wasn’t fond of being patted, but the prideful beast didn’t shy away from having his ego stroked. Subtle gave off the impression that he was standing taller with his chest puffed out.
Raziel had a sudden thought, moving to the mysterious figure.
If he could feel Subtle’s thoughts and emotions through physical contact with his statue, would touching this figure give him insight into what the Spell Card did? There was a good chance that he would be overwhelmed again but he wanted to try anyway. He needed any possible advantage.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Hesitatingly, he placed his hand on the figure’s forearm.
Cool stone met his touch.
Raziel waited but nothing happened. No sensations, no surge of horrible emotions, nothing.
Sighing softly, he removed his hand, accepting that the Red Figure Card was a mystery for much later on in his life.
Stone scraped against stone. Bewildered, he looked up, and saw the glint of the red gemstone coming closer. The slender finger bearing the ring touched the space between Raziel’s eyes. The next thing he knew, a memory took hold of him.
-
There were no secrets in the small village of Bramblebog. That was the sort of place this was. Except, well, maybe there was one.
There was a shed on the Ravenbone’s property.
Inside, a young man with stringy black hair hunched over in his worn, wicker chair. While it was a sad scene, there was also something unnatural about it. Despite his youthful appearance, looking at him was harder than staring at the sun. His radiating presence was a physical thing. He sat in the chair with all the gravity of a king on a gold throne.
The door to the hovel opened, revealing his descent and his descendant’s wife. They both bled with anxiety.
The man thought they were cute. What was so bad about death? Living was the real trouble.
Something surprised him, though. Enough so that he raised his head. A pair of burning red eyes stared unseeingly at the bundle in the woman’s arms.
“Who is he?” his voice rasped out.
“Our child,” said his descendant’s wife gently. “We have come for your blessing, Honored Ancestor.”
This child… was not crying.
He should be. All of his own children had wailed in his arms, the feeling of magic too much for their senses. Even this older descendant of his shied away from him now, his instincts marking him as the prey that he was.
“Bring him closer.” He held out a hand.
Hesitatingly, she gave him the swaddled newborn. Their names… wasn’t this descendant of his called Ferrin? And yes… Isara, the boy’s strange wife from the sea. She seemed pleasant enough. Strangers needed to be.
The man placed his finger on the child’s chest. Slowly, a smile cracked across his face. To the couple, this sight was probably quite scary, but they had no choice but to endure it.
“Indeed I have a blessing for him.” The man laughed gleefully. “There’s a loose floorboard in the closet. Pry it open and bring me what’s inside.”
He knew Ferrin had found the treasure by the horrified gasp in the other room.
“Hurry, come here,” beckoned the man impatiently.
“Is that-“ whispered the wife, hands coming to her mouth.
“Honored Ancestor?” asked his descendant with steel in his voice. His descendant lowered his eyes. He didn’t seem too shocked. After all, the Ravenbones had always known their ancestor was hiding something big - why else would he obediently stay in the shed all these years? Still, this surpassed their wildest expectations. “Is this a dragon egg?”
The egg was the size of a cannonball, cream and bronze swirling over the shell. It felt pleasantly warm to the touch.
“It is.”
Ferrin’s fists balled. “We could’ve sold this egg for millions of crowns. Lived like royalty. Instead, we’re scraping for the bare minimum, serving the Wealcrofts with no end in sight. Do you not care about the livelihood of your own kin?”
The red-eyed man snorted softly. “What do I care about how ants live? I only care about your son. Now that he’s been born, I can pass away peacefully. With this dragon egg the entire world is in the palm of his hand. Royalty would beg to live like us for a chance at this egg.” He paused, weighing Isara and Ferrin both with his gaze. This wife of Ferrin’s… he had to be sure nothing would go wrong. “Vow to me that you won’t tell anyone about the egg. Not even your son. I have a hiding spot for it planned. If he’s strong enough to obtain the egg, then he’s strong enough to protect it from the villagers who will come for it. Luckily, this generation hasn't forged any alchemists. Your son merely needs to be the best among mortals.”
“You think our Raziel has the talent to bond with dragons?” asked the wife.
He chuckled, dark and mockingly amused. “He’ll be the greatest dragonrider to ever live.”
“We promise,” said the wife, then the husband. The pressure inside the shed increased dramatically as the two were bound by their words. Then, it diminished, much weaker than before the vow.
The dragon egg vanished.
The man laughed faintly as life left him. “Don’t you dare teach him any of your filthy magics either, boy. Any master of alchemy worth their name won’t touch your son if he’s corrupted.” He clutched the swaddle close to his chest, never letting go, not even as he took his last breath. The glyph on the man's forehead vanished. As if knowing something important had happened, the infant’s eyes opened for the first time.
Burning red.
–
The memory loosened its claws from his mind, and Raziel’s consciousness abruptly returned to his soul.
Dragon egg? There was really a dragon egg in Bramblebog?
Suddenly, Raziel clutched his skull, a rift opening in the space between his eyes. Hot, wet blood cascaded down the side of his face. It felt like knives were stabbing into his brain. Raziel bottled up his screams, gnashing his teeth together to bear the intense pain, worse than any headache he’d ever experienced.
The agony might’ve lasted a second or an hour - he couldn’t tell.
When the pain washed away, only the sticky sensation of blood on his temples remained. Raziel gingerly prodded his forehead, fearing the pain might start again. It didn’t. There was a small protrusion - smooth, like glass.
He crawled to the edge of the red pond and viewed his reflection.
With no better words to describe it, there was a small glyph in the center of his forehead. Except it didn’t shine and glitter like a gemstone. Instead, the red seemed to darkly absorb the surrounding light, like his soul did.
Didn’t the wraith have this same glyph between his eyes? Maybe this was a sign that Raziel was officially his heir.
Raziel glanced around his soul and felt like there was something off about his vision. Heart Devils swayed beneath the surface of the pond like reeds of seaweed. They were bright now - so bright that Raziel could barely make out their actual features.
Those shades… they were made up of his mana, weren’t they? A lot of his mana.
Clenching his jaw, Raziel waded back into the pond. The first shade to resurface was one of his clones.
“There’s something wrong with you,” whispered the faceless boy threateningly. Mana pulsed brightly around him. “Other outskirters have friends in the inner village, so don’t make more excuses. People don’t like you because of you.”
“You’re right, a lot of people hate me,” seethed Raziel. “But Verminta likes me. My parents like me. My ancestor even liked me enough to save my life and leave me a dragon egg!.”
A bit of mana escaped the Heart Devil and sank back into the pond. The color of the pond deepened a shade.
The boy shook his head. “Your parents are obligated to love you, but they don’t like you. It’s obvious that your parents wanted a different child. A sweet, obedient boy, who never got into trouble and always helped his mother with the chores.”
Those words caused Raziel’s heart to ache. Everything his clone said were things he’d thought himself a thousand times while staring at the ceiling of his bedroom. Yet, he knew these shades were manifestations of his worst fears and thoughts. The thing about insecurity was that, if you let it, it would always find a way to twist and turn and stay alive. No matter how Raziel argued against the Heart Devil’s words, it would continue twisting the knife until Raziel gave up and permitted it to fester and grow and consume him whole.
Raziel clenched his fists. “I don’t care if anyone likes me. It’s my life, so I’ll live the way I want to!”
Three ribbons of mana unwound from the boy and the strength of the pond increased measurably. There was a feeling to the mana now, a flavor - defiance. Raziel’s connection to his mana now felt like a rope instead of a thread. Something he could grab onto without it snapping.
However, the Heart Devil hadn’t vanished entirely. A bit of mana continued keeping it alive.
The boy laughed. “Powerful words. But do you really believe them?” A final statement before it sank beneath the surface.
An ugly expression twisted Raziel’s face. Splashing through the pond, he searched for the shade, intent on choking out the last bit of mana it held hostage, but he was unsuccessful.
An alchemist’s heart was one free of devils.
Hopefully Father Linus could exorcise him, because Raziel truly did not want to face all of these insecurities muddling his soul. The Heart Devil he'd just encountered seemed like the weakest of the bunch too.
Raziel returned to the dais and went into a meditative pose.
This time, with the stronger connection to his mana, he tried to focus his power outwards. Warmth flowed into his palms.
As he opened his eyes, he found himself back in the waking world.
The blade in his hands sparkled with red mana. Raziel pumped his fist in victory. It wasn't much mana, but it might be enough to repair his Beast Cards.
At this angle, a gleam crossed the metal.
The faces of his Heart Devils appeared in the reflection.
Raziel’s knuckles whitened and red mana burst across the blade, as though trying to scald it. This sight caused Raziel to pause. He glanced around.
The woods were filled with strange azure mist which sparkled under the moonlight. Subtle and Sublime looked at Raziel curiously, delicate swirls of pastel aura wafting from them. Before, Raziel had only been able to feel auras, but now…
Pulling up his soulpane he saw that the ring had vanished from the Red Figure Card’s hand too.
He touched his forehead, to the gem in the shape of a glyph.
Raziel could see magic?
All magic?