First Halo of Ciazel,
Atera,
East Lily Drive,
-Two weeks later-
Val had fallen down a rather steep rabbit hole.
One thing led to the next, and currently she found herself a bit too familiar with terms that, for the most part, did not exist in her lexicon a year ago. Foreign nomenclature like managlyphs filled her head. If asked, she could rattle the definitions word for word.
Would it turn out to serve her well in the competition?
She may never know until Bicemeber 13th dawned upon Ciazel. Ever since Master Winsford gave the revelation on scholarships, her focus remained on runes, meditating, enchantments, eating, more runes, diving rifts and—did she forget to mention runes? Skidding feet shattered what little remained of her concentration, and she let out a faint gasp at what—at who, rather—arrived at the door frame.
Caro wore a textured ebony jumpsuit, white blazer swaying on her bare shoulders and golden hoops dangling off her ears. Her mascara-laced lashes fluttered as her gaze panned the room. Books bestrewed the beds in well-placed lines, hinting at the work recently achieved.
As it went for a practitioner of any art, discovering a streamlined road to tread helped simplify the route to advancement. General ideas cast a wide net and wouldn’t aid her past the title of being knowledgeable.
The types of enchantments she thought the best were operative, as they didn’t rely on an enchanter’s bound element. Generative runes were a close second, only since it just might solve her incoming ‘rite of specialization’ predicament. Fingers crossed.
“Val.” The half-Kidraan pinched the bridge of her nose. “Why are you just sitting there?”
“Caro,” she countered. “As amazing as you look, how come you’re all dressed up?”
“Cause we agreed you’d actually leave the house today.”
“I did?”
“It’s right here.”
Val squinted as her friend shoved a bright screen in her face.
Tripartite Trial Buddies - Groupchat of (5)
CareBear: guys
CareBear: guys
CareBear: guys
Mike.W: @CareBear do you mind?
CareBear: i really don’t
CareBear: i just miss everyonee and no one talks in this chat
Jerel_74: been a bit busy
Jerel_74: I wish we could meet up
Stone. Lau: If anyone here wants to sponsor my transfer to the First Halo, I’ll come
Mike.W: Can’t say I have the same problem
Mike.W: I just transferred into Atera a few days back
Valory. E: for real?
Valory. E: we have to meet up for a reunion
Mike.W: find a way to detach yourself from Hayes and we’re good to go
CareBear: Hold up
CareBear: I leave for 2 secs and now I find out Will’s in town
Mike.W: Stop butchering my family name
CareBear: No
Stone. Lau: this is my cue to leave
Val scrolled past pages of Williams and Caro arguing in the chat, screen bouncing up as it hit the bottom.
Valory. E: so should I post my top five options here?
Valory. E: also prepare to split the bill
CareBear: sry y’all my broke ass can’t afford anything too up there
Mike.W: Don’t worry about it.
Mike.W: My treat
Mike.W: Just don’t call me Will
The conversation ended there, with each of the supposed Tripartite Trial Group Chat leaving him on read. In the ten days spent in the depths of Thunderstone, she reached a certain level of kinship with the four. As heart-wrenching as it had been on move-out day, she’d accustomed to the online rapport. It seemed, though, that it was about to go through quite a change.
“I feel like I would’ve recalled something this significant. But at this point, my brain’s storage is topped with runes.” Val’s eyes narrowed. “It says here we had this conversation at four am. No wonder I don’t remember it.”
“Too bad I do.”
“What’s that really gonna—hey! Caro, what in the—!”
A pair of arms snaked underneath her armpits and forced her off the night desk chair. Heavens. What does she eat?
Caro dragged her across the bedroom, in a direction straight for the washroom. “We are getting you dressed and outta here!”
…
An hour later, each minute consumed by the desperate struggles that often accompanied deciding on an outfit, the pair exited the apartment. An ivory sweater draped off Val’s shoulder, slightly hidden by the beige trench coat that brushed at her low heels.
Traversing the puddle-ridden sidewalk, Caro hailed a cab. As safe as Atera was, public transit and fancy attire never mixed. Their home address didn’t help matters, of course. East Lily Drive displayed the shadows of the modern city, one many cared not to see.
Free-heating areas lined the sidewalks, becoming the lone structures remaining whole. The rest of the neighbourhood was in decrepit condition, with moss hoarding the walls and cracks spreading out into a spiderweb. The typical huddled wherever they could—the FHAs, the deserted houses, the alleys.
A stark difference was made apparent in a snap when the driver turned out of Lily Drive. It was difficult to perceive, like a framed image wrongly angled by the slightest measure.
As the minutes flew by, a dazzling avenue came into view. Massive IBR billboards spanned across the city structures and goods lined the streets. Supermalls filled the blocks, affluent customers making those in business immensely happy.
“Welcome to the Gold Road,” the driver said into the silence. “Commerce Central.”
Val didn’t hear a thing.
Even oxygen seemed second-rate in comparison to the surroundings. Vehicles in the lanes next door had an inch on them, hovering well above the sleet-covered concrete. High-end restaurants perched on top of high-rises, one of which was their destination.
The glitter-and-glamour atmosphere seeped past the tinted windows of the cab. So much so, she suffered a small case of window-shopping withdrawal as they drove into a building’s underground parking space. The pair thanked the driver, going on to find their way through the concrete maze.
Following the holographic signs, the lift upwards proved easy to find. Caro’s gaze flickered from her phone’s screen to the vast number of buttons nailed to the elevator door. Deciding on the 114th floor, she tapped a circle and let it do its job.
Her eye caught on the golden-crimson ring adorning her finger and she sighed. "I think our artifacts are broken," she prodded at the piece of metal. "They've been dead silent ever since Ashless Forest, no matter what's going on.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
“We talked about this, Cee. It said ‘fear detected,’ which, in fairness, has been on the lower side,” Val said. “The more we dive, the more we get accustomed.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that it sucks.”
Val had nothing to say to that. All they could do was wait until the first day of university. You think any school would accept you? A faint voice wriggled into her thoughts. The shaft doors split apart before she could head down that spiral for any longer.
An ambience of peace hit her straight in the face. Translucent paper coverings split the space into hidden compartment, an aroma of fresh wood wafting about in the the timber-walled restaurant. Flickering candles sat on ledges, a cause for anxiety each time the flame crept too close to the flammable, shoji room dividers.
Down the lengthy hall, a sleek Erydian smirked their way, the new-gained strength of a mage laying low beneath his pale grey eyes. Lean muscles flexed under his tailored pants and tucked polo, speaking to months spent under vigorous drills.
“I almost feel as if I’m back in the trials," he said, meeting them in the middle
“Almost,” Caro grinned. “It’s good to get the group back together, even if it's just us three.”
“Indeed,” he replied, continuing the pace across the corridor. “My winters." He glanced back at Val, irises aglow in a light blue. "Efron, your ASC is at nineteen. You feel... different.”
“Could say the same to you. Training's definitely been treating you well.” By the demeanor in his walk alone, she could detect the assurance he held in himself. She saw it every day in Caro’s steps. A certain confidence hung off their clothes. “Also, enough of that last name thing. Call me Val.”
“To answer your first statement, yes it has. I’ve joined a guild back in Nocelle and they’ve been a great help.” He slid aside the paper dividers and a plush table awaited them. "As for the second," he took a seat opposite the girls, “I’m known as Mikhail to those I call friends.”
His gaze met Caro's and an intangible fight occurred as the they traded silent stares. To Val’s shock, the Striker caved first. “Does it actually bother you whenever I call you Will.”
“It’s a further injustice to my line and believe me,” he said, “we’ve been through an ample amount of such.”
Caro’s expression faltered. “Sorry for being an asshole, then. I meant it as all fun and games, but it didn’t come across as intended.”
“Apology accepted.” He hoisted a hand that she shook. “Does Carrie work as a name?”
“There’s baggage with that one,” she winced. “Caro’s fine.”
His lips quirked up for a nanosecond. “Mike.”
The waiter rolled a trolley overflowing with palm-sized plates. One by one, dishes began to cover their table, displaying items like edamame and dragon rolls. While appetizers for the most part, the last item turned out to be a perfectly-baked goodness.
Val knew her eyes shone at the dessert.
“So soon?” Caro asked the employee.
He smiled. “We believe in sweets after and before meals.”
“I like your thinking.” Val bit into the fluffy, velvet cupcake, content with the happiness overload that filled her mouth. The two snacked on the crab-themed courses they dropped occasionally, from crab melts to finger foods drizzled in seafood.
"So." Caro threw a look at the lightning mage, toying with the odd, life-like figurine of—you guessed it—a crab. "What discipline are you hoping to choose come September?"
“It’s rude to ask for information you haven’t yet given.”
She rolled her eyes. “If you must absolutely know, I’m leaning towards invocation.”
“You’re aiming to be a Striker?” Williams—no, Mike—had trouble swallowing his drink. “Magma and sand elements excel in evocative disciplines—hard to find either laying around in the middle of the northern plains. It’d be a different conversation were we in the Glass Dunes, yet even then, magma just clashes with every other discipline save conjuration and fortification.”
Mike rambled a paragraph both girls had lingered on day and night about. Yet, treading such a Path would make their artifacts obsolete. Hard to use a greataxe stationed at the rear. On the plus side, five months of experimentation lied ahead of the two.
Who said they had to pick a Path now?
“It’s… complicated,” Caro informed him. “Val’s going the same route.”
“I sincerely hope you two end up being able to minor in conjuration.” Mike clicked his tongue. “I’ll continue to advise otherwise, no matter the circumstance.”
“It’s okay.” She waved it away. “How about you? Traversal Discipline?”
“It’s probably conjuration.”
“No, conjuration.”
He glanced at Val, eyebrows tilted downwards as if he was frustrated she’d announced it a second before him. “What gave it away?”
“Your mannerisms,” she supplied.
“I see.” He sifted a hand through his short hair. “Either way, lightning Supports aren’t in the ordinary, which is the reason I’m attributing toward dust. Its erosion effects should sharpen the edge of my spell cache.”
“Attributing derails affinities, though,” she winced.
“The process is tried and tested in my family,” he replied. “The actual downside is finding energy cores with dust essences. They cost an arm and a leg,” he said between frowning lips. “Pales in comparison to one of my relatives, thankfully. No one points fingers my way.”
Val hummed, nursing a cold cup of a tangy cocktail. “How is your family, by the way. Last I remember, things weren’t in the best of conditions.”
“That’s the main reason why I’m here in the First Halo,” he answered. “It’s a family gathering of the Williams blood, extended and immediate.”
“Sounds like fun,” Caro said.
“Hardly.” Mike ripped into his food, relaying his hidden feelings on the matter into the task at hand. “It’s merely a ploy to bloat the ego of our family’s Master alchemist.”
“That’s…” She frowned, struggling to find words. “Why waste a perfectly good party?”
“My cousin, the relative I mentioned. She has an Aetherial Vessel Abnormality.”
Val stiffened, blowing unintentional bubbles into her cup. Caro stopped cutting into her meat.
Mike, oblivious to the grip the three words had on the pair, took it as a sign of interest and continued. “It would’ve done little to hinder her quality of life should she have been anything other than the eldest scion of a recovering bloodline.”
Caro popped a cube of rice into her mouth. “Doesn’t explain the alchemist business though.”
“It’s merely for the case that we somehow turn up the right ingredients,” he responded. “Wouldn’t want to have all the boxes checked just for him to say no, now would we?”
“That’s true.” Val bit into her lips. “If artificers themselves are a dime a dozen, Masters are one in a thousand—and they know it too. If you need an extra opinion, I’d fish for an alchemist on a lower rung, like Meisters.”
“Others have stressed the same point and we’ve all received the same answer: a Master is required to ensure the correct usage of the high-level materials. No more has been given due to ‘privacy reasons.’”
“Seems complicated,” Caro muttered. “Gotta always remember to be grateful for what you have.”
“Agreed,” Mike sighed. “Some of our other bullet points have been crossed off, at the very least”
Val didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Although he did not know it, it might as well been as clear as day that he was referring to Life's Hymn. The vast majority dreamed of having connections to a Meister. Now, one of the main requirements for the potion was a Master alchemist.
Information was power and she was glad to gain clues since it had grown stagnant over time. It didn’t affect the fact that the details heard were anything but good news. Nothing ever comes easy.
Val rubbed at her cheek. “Ingredients are still pending, aren’t they?”
Mike’s hand stilled as his gaze carried a confused haze. “How’d you know?”
“Had a hunch.”
----------------------------------------
Williams’ distant relative’s case of an Aether Abnormality resparked her fervent search. Though it manifested in the direct opposite of her mother’s condition, she used it as an avenue as she scoured the internet. Maybe she could find a thread to pull?
“Aether Abnormalities: A Sign of the Heavens, Magic is Forbidden,” Val muttered the title of the link she’d found, shaking her head at yet another article full of nothing.
Soon frustrated at diving through limited articles and finding nil, she shut her laptop and settled into a lotus position on her bed. Alone by herself—Caro having rushed to the duelist rings in search of a signup sheet—she quelled her temperament with well-timed breaths. Might as well channel my anger into something useful.
Plucking the last remnants available in their bag hidden underneath their night table, Val screwed her eyelids shut. Time flowed and she resolved into a blank, dark realm in her mind. Ripples pulsed into the edgeless space out at each exhale. Motes of energy remained still, akin to frozen snow.
Symmetrical wavelets throbbed in the immaterial plane and the aether particles bent to her will. A flux of blue streamed towards her, like an endless river.
A little more knowledgeable in breathing techniques, she cut the connection to the prevalent energy right before hitting her max. Ready for the next step, she exerted force on the tiny remnant in her hand. Draining the piece’s reserves, she seeped its energy into her AV, bit by bit.
Her state of concentration cracked as she felt the trickle of aether deplete. Breaking out of Growth Assimilation, she beheld a dried-up crystal in her grasp. Its healthy, luminous colour traded out for a pallid grey, sign enough of its end. Val blinked slowly as she returned to the plane of existence, stretching an IBR window from her artifact.
Wielder Info
Aether Strand Count: 8/19
0/16 Nodes Open
Aether Channel Density: N/A
Val could hardly believe it. She poked a finger through the illusion-based visuals as if they were a real number hidden beneath—a lower number. ASC at 19, she was nearly double from where she sat two months ago. Though it paled in comparison to the monstrous Caro and others who clocked into triple-digits, it was still something to be proud of.
It was only a matter of time before her silver PAST factored into her growth. She grinned at the thought.
In the Second Halo, Master Winsford told her the pain caused by pure aether emanation would edge out and mitigate the higher her ASC ascended, producing a protective aura of its own. He’d been right—surprisingly—and she often failed to remember she once had a crippling condition some days.
The pain up till now lingers and hedges her mental barriers any time a high-ranked mage decides to breeze by without their presence veiled. However, compared to the razor-like knife constantly stuck in her side all day during her years preceding the trials, her present condition was like a mild flick to the forehead. It's practically gone.
Light streaming from her window waned as night filtered in. She passed the time leafing through a tome worthy of being a weight plate on a barbell. Idly gnawing on the microwaved meat in her spare hand, her phone pinged. She tapped the device awake and checked it, grateful for the distraction. It was the new group chat Rick made. A slight smile spread on her lips the more she read.
Another rift dive was in store.