For the sixth time in the last six days, Val admired the Apprentice’s Office allotted to new Runic Mead members.
Requests and informational quizzes flowed in all summer. A few asked her the types of clients she wanted down the line, others were questionnaires to find the best mentor for her, and one wanted her preferred floor. She’d been cheeky and picked the highest available to her, and the shot in the dark awarded her a spot on the tenth level.
As a result, Atera’s nightlife thrived past the window from high on up—rivers of red rear lights glowing in the tangled streets, and the customary telling flare over a spot in the city that spoke of a bar fight gone wrong. Toeing her ergonomic chair around to the granite desk behind, her hand combed through greasy hair.
A three-foot-long scroll sat blank across the textured-grey surface, scratched up from an untold number of attempts. Despite the evident tries and attempt basically carved into the material, nothing glowed, or sparkled or gleamed. In simpler terms, despite her continuous trials, no rune had formed whatsoever. Setting her scribal pen down next to it, she propped her elbows on the desk and sank her face into her palms.
The visit to Restore Health before she departed the Second Halo healed her soul as much as it tired her heart. For Val—and she hoped for the majority of the world—a mother’s face alone did wonders. In her case, it stabilized her fond memories as something other than a keepsake for later. Evenings spent watering plants, school mornings where Mom rushed to braid her hair, and afternoon nature walks—they brought about nostalgic, rather than knocking the air out chest to make room for the pain.
Even so, Mom’s health deteriorated in the hospital. She was no more than a sack of bone and wrinkled skin, with hair the texture of straw, and eyelids forever shut. Val stupidly activated Vague View to survey the metaphysical illness for herself and she wished she could destroy the sight now burned into her mind.
Aether channels were the veins of the unseen—energy coursed through them, and they worked to alter the physical characteristics in higher ranks. Tiny, yet important and unfortunately as easy to injure as physical veins under the right conditions. However, “injury” to veins in real life frequently meant internal bleeding. Things worked differently when magic was involved, and it showed.
Instead of Mom’s channel bursting at the sheer aether strand surplus, they widened and stretched and strained to contain it. And technically, it did… Though it looked as precariously on the edge of exploding as a balloon full of far too much water. The channels, usually no thicker than a pencil, pushed up to the corners of her arms. Despite her prominent collar bones and ribs, despite her twig-like limbs, aether burst at the seams inside her.
Val knew what it was like to overload her muscles. As the amateur she was, they screamed at her on routine. Sometimes, she believed she was just one step shy of them breaking.
She could only imagine the sheer pain Mom’s condition must’ve caused, and could only hope she felt none of it in her deep sleep.
Val needed Life’s Hymn, and she needed it yesterday. Her efforts to truly become Apprentice title translated into over sixty hours—plus well past ten ordered meals—and her efforts translated into nothing. Nothing. Her fingers dragged down her cheeks, and she quickly inhaled. Self-pity wouldn’t do her any good.
It seemed the universe agreed, because the tranquillity of her room shattered as her door slid open. Lowell paced through, the red robes ascribed to metalsmiths billowing in his wake. She’d sent him a text earlier on during the day and—absorbed in one thing or the other—he must’ve finally seen it. With five long strides, he crossed the tiled flooring to reach the small carpet underneath her desk and chair.
“Val, dear,” he began his plea, shaking his head. “You promised you’d go.”
That was before I saw the pamphlet. The font by itself screamed self-importance, not to talk of the expensive banquet hall and the mind-baffling itinerary. He’d offered to take her to a party, but she forgot the word party meant different things to different people. To some teenagers, that meant a house stacked with influential substances; for people like Caro and Jesal, a get-together with drinks, snacks, and a multiplayer, couch-party game up and running would suffice.
Based on what she witnessed, Lowell’s social event involved a whole lot of small talk and very little of a good vibe. Which is a solid no from me.
Val made sure her frown was perceptive. “I don’t want to go to a party full of politicians—”
“Artificers, you mean.”
“—who’d throw me their fake smiles, shake my hand and look at me for what I’m worth, not for who I am.”
“You’ve been turtled up in your office for ages, ‘Lore!”
“And I still can’t bind a lick of aether for heaven’s sake!”
“You will soon!”
“Soon needs to be now.”
Lowell sighed through his nose. “The best things don’t come easy. Be patient.”
Val raised her hands in surrender. “Fine.”
“And you will come to that party. Connections don’t come easy either.” Lowell rounded the table, tapped her shoulder, and made his way out.
She understood he was doing it for her own good. The red target pinned on her back since the Rookie Competition only became brighter thanks to her growing media presence, and introducing herself would be incredibly beneficial on multiple fronts. It just sounded like a chore she wasn’t up for.
Val pushed the trouble aside and tried to find the serenity present before he’d entered, digging deep inside herself for internal peace. Once her hand stilled and her mind ceased throbbing at the headache that was the party, she gripped her pen and got to work.
Energy flowed away from her Aetherial Vessel, winding down her channels, and zipped into the writing instrument. Similar to cultivation, enchanting contained two contrary halves—the energy, and the philosophy behind it. Checking off the fuel required, she imprinted everything she comprehended about the rune firm.
Hardened to the point of resilience.
Resilient enough to withstand change.
Unchanging, persistent, steady.
Strong.
Firm.
Her pen touched the paper and drew the dashes of the character easily. When it came away, luminescent lines pulsed on the beige scroll, fluctuating, fizzling. Seconds later, it winked out of existence. No luck.
Val swallowed the expletives on her tongue and settled to clutch onto her pen and seethe under her breath. “Are you kidding me!”
Time waited for no one, and although she knew her mother had years—decades even—left in her strictly speaking, Val’s true window of success shrunk with every minute. How long would be too long? How long would it take for Mom to become less of a person and more of a fleeting memory she desperately chased?
Would their relationship remain unaffected when her mother came to, realizing the daughter at the side of her bed was vastly different from the one she remembered? Would she even want to wake up in a world that abandoned her in the past? Further down the line, these doubts would solidify into reality, and that scared her more than most things.
So no, she didn’t have time to bumble into a stroke of luck.
Val clicked her tongue and pulled her legs up into her office chair, interlacing her fingers. She fell into the patterned breaths of her meditative technique, and her frustrated thoughts filtered away and left a clear mind. Attempting the same thing repeatedly would derive no success. She’d never been bullheaded—stubborn, though she was—and she didn’t want to start now.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Not when an alternate avenue of growth opened up for her. At the end of the day, she had to obtain those connections and, in due time, work her way up to find the right alchemists to produce Life’s Hymn. Mom’s clock ticked onwards without fail. Attending the party could be the first step of many to prevent it from ticking any further. Only time will tell.
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First Halo of Ciazel,
Atera,
Youth Health & Aid Hub
-One day later-
Laughter and muttered curses rose above the indistinct din of downtown clamour, scratching at Val’s curiosity. She nudged her charcoal bucket hat upwards, blinked a couple of times to clear her bleary vision after an unplanned nap, and focused on the pair keeping her company at the roundtable.
Two red braids draped over Caro’s graphic tee to rest on camo shorts. One hand idly grasped Kenneth in an arm-wrestle and the other held her iced drink. She chuckled over the rim of the clear cup, eyes sparkling as Kenneth moved to bring his other arm to help in the fight. The soon-to-be thirteen-year-old, still clad in his school uniform, swore once more and kept trying.
A blaring, digital bell sliced across their battle. With a grin and a groan respectively, the two agreed to find a middle ground by calling it a tie and turned to the source of the noise. The daycare center, situated at the heart of Atera, spanned the entire block. Dark fences wrapped around a brick building and a small field of grass stretched for meters beyond the enclosure. Combined with a picturesque playground and perfectly placed benches, the area inside seemed almost peaceful.
Nevertheless, outside on the bordering street, the downtown life thrived, honks, traffic, racket and all. Val and her company picked a spot with random tables and seats to wait for Anderson’s release. As such, the three were up and about, heading into the premises.
“Have you decided on what to wear to the party?” Caro asked, crouching low to tie her shoelaces.
Val stopped beside her, slanting her chin downwards. “I don’t know, I’m kinda on the fence about going.”
“It could be fun,” came the muffled response.
“And dreadful.”
“But still fun.”
“And boring.”
“You know what.” Caro glared at her from down low, and the angle made any exasperation comical. “I give up.”
“I'm... sorry?”
The magma mage sighed and pushed off her knees, settling into an upright position. “It’s alright. Can’t be mad when it’s time to pick up my favourite Efron.”
Kenneth snorted and strode ahead, pushing the black gate and holding it open. “Am I supposed to be hurt?”
“No.” Val nodded her thanks, ignoring how her slitted jeans flapped against the wind. “I am.”
Caro grinned in acknowledgement and joined them as they made their way to the daycare. A pavement walkway wound its way through the field to the building’s double doors. Parents streamed out of their cars in the attached parking lot, leaving few to walk behind them.
Five teachers hid from the sun under an enveloping awning, each worrying over the line of children attached to their hips. Val found it easy to spot Anderson’s warden for the day. He was, to her luck, the only male among the employees. As parents drew closer, kids would promptly tug on their teacher’s pants, point in their guardian’s direction, receive a grateful nod from the said teacher, and then bolt to the loving—or tired—arms of a mother, father, relative, or sibling.
Anderson was no different. Well, no different as far as things concerning Anderson went. Upon seeing her, the bundle of energy bolted across the field and a beeline for them—taking no care to follow the paved path—and barrelled into her.
She huffed a laugh and returned the hug, waving over Anderson’s shoulder to his teacher. The man had jogged after his little student in alarm, only to shake his head in exasperation and return the gesture.
“Andy…” Val pulled back and donned her sisterly voice. “As much as I am very, very happy to see you too, you have to tell Mr. O’hare first before leaving. Okay?”
He canted his head to the side, his sad pout nearly winning out against her sternness. “But…”
“No buts.” She bent low, staring into his golden eyes, big from guilt and confusion in an equal measure. “Okay?”
He gave a tiny nod. “Okie.”
Caro took his affirmation as a sign to play the fun older sibling. She snuck around during the lecture and grabbed him from behind, ignoring his surprised gasp and putting him atop her shoulders. “Who’s ready to fly?”
“Me!” he giggled. “Me!”
Caro's smile took on a wicked edge. “As you wish, good sir. Buckle in—”
“Cee, wait. I didn’t—”
“And we’re off!” Caro started her adventure with a twirl, and then proceeded to run towards and out the gate, Anderson in tow. The boy lifted his arms in the air—on the shoulders of the 5’11 Striker, he truly must’ve felt airborne—and squealed.
“—check if he had any homework.” Watching the pair disappear past the fences, Val sighed. “I swear, one of these days I’m going to report her for kidnapping.”
“Good luck convincing the authorities. That kid is more his sister than yours.” Kenneth exhaled like he lived twelve decades instead of twelve years. “I’ll follow them and make sure they don’t get themselves killed. Better yet, I’ll make sure they don’t kill anyone else.”
And then he was off, stalking after the energetic buddies in a cloud of doom and gloom. Val’s gaze trailed his departure, and a second sigh escaped her. Losing his one friend to familial responsibilities hit him hard, and he had little available in the First Halo to help him cope. Val hoped that their presence—hers, Caro’s and Anderson’s—mitigated his distress somewhat. I wish I could do more…
Her phone buzzed and she checked the notification, only to softly scowl at the screen. Her daily reminder to “enchant” went off, immediately ruining her mood. She would try at inscribing a rune, fail at it miserably, and do it again in that order numerous times until Lowell ushered her off to bed. She would blissfully forget her struggles for a time before the reminder set it off anew.
Lowell had been wrong about two things he said would come soon.
Rowan had been and still was MIA.
She had been and still was struggling with enchanting.
He did, however, know the details surrounding the auction that reserved most of Rowan’s time. If she understood the circumstances a little better, perhaps she could do more for Kenneth. Perhaps, if the small hopeful idea of hers came to pass, the information could do more for her. Plus, it was high time to find out about this auction and—let’s face it—she had just about nothing to do.
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As the sole class allowed an entire building for themselves, finding the smithery required a trip down the stairs and outside through several stone archways. Vivid, crimson flowers rimmed the cobblestone pathway as it weaved around the courtyard, connecting the primary building to an ancient-looking fortress.
A broad staircase—carved from the purest of marble—stretched almost wall to wall, resulting in an elevated porch huddled beneath a smooth overhang. Young and weathered metalsmiths alike trickled past her in many degrees of disheveled, depending on how deep into a project they were.
Unsurprisingly, she garnered a lot of glances on her way up. She looked nothing like the part of a new Novice or rising enchanter and entirely the picture of an exhausted teenager. To her defense, she at least tried to alleviate that picture.
Her bucket hat hung low, obscuring the dark patches beneath her eyes. On top of that, she made the time today to wash and straighten her hair, allowing cedar-brown strands to cascade over her shoulders. Still, her posture slouched inside her denim jacket and her strides up the steps were stiff. Even the unobservant could tell a few hours of sleep would do her well.
Val heard the smithery before she saw it—muffled banging and an undercurrent of laughter. She had an idea of what it'd look like once she slipped inside; smoky air, smudged aprons and multitudes of metals melting at white-hot temperatures were just the beginning. She’d been somewhat correct, though she forgot the modern improvements the smithery installed.
There was no lobby or receptionist desk of any sort—this establishment existed for crafting and crafting alone. As such, on the metallic swath spread inside, tens of metal pieces were underway inside the workstations. Clear dividers separated the Apprentices’ forges, and overhead fans vacuumed the smoke coming from the hearths.
Apparatuses she couldn’t name—some larger than her, others as small as her palm—ruined the otherwise organized smithery, blocking the aisles, and cluttering a desk. In the far back, a spiral staircase alluded to other floors occupied by Journeymen, Meisters, and the rest of the ranks.
Either way, creativity lingered in every corner.
The nearest metalsmith, busy pouring molten iron into a sword-shaped cast, did a double take at her atypical presence. “Can I help you?”
A hint of a smile blossomed on her lips. “Sorry to be a bother, but I was wondering if you point me in Lowell’s direction?”
“Sure thing.” The metalsmith dropped his bucket and cupped gloved hands over his face. “Lowe’s got a visitor! Get him over here!”
“Lowe’s got a visitor!”
“Lowe!”
“Visit for Lowey boy!”
“Lowe! Don’t keep the visitor waiting!”
“Lowell, get moving!”
The metalsmith’s colleagues echoed his cry and, before Val knew it, the voice she could scarcely hear over the din transformed into a loudspeaker sounding from everywhere. I guess that’s one way to do it.
Lowell came storming through the aisles. “Christopher, what are you trying to pull—oh hey, Val!” A sunny mein came over him. “Something about the party?”
“No.” Val shed her hat, and her viridian-green eyes hardened. “The auction.”
Lowell’s bright expression turned grim, his lips bending into a calculating frown. “Come with me.”