The Aetheric Path
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Season One | Tears of Woe
“We name many things we do not understand. We only know that they are,” Dr. James Edgar, C.IV, University of Edith, retrieved from the 1520 study aether and its role on the study of souls, published in the Archives of Psychology and Arcane.
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Introductory Arc
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AS THE NIGHT SKY watched on, gunfire echoed through the air atop a cargo ship. Muzzles flashed like cameras as bullets flew through the air, seeking their targets. Vincent "The Grim Reaper" De Luca shot and killed a dozen enemies with great precision, his bullet always finding its target.
He managed to take down three more until a bullet tore through his shoulder. He fell back against a steel storage and clutched his bleeding wound. The shooter then shot him in the chest. But Vincent was quick, even in his injured state, and managed to draw his second pistol, killing the only remaining shooter before he succumbed to his wounds.
Every day, mafiosos like Vincent tread on the precipice of death. Thus, he accepted his fate with a certain resignation. As he lay on the ground, his vision blurring, Vincent looked up at the night sky and saw a shooting star. He smiled at the sight before his eyelids grew heavy, and he slipped into unconsciousness.
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Vincent's surroundings were completely shrouded in darkness, leaving him disoriented as he woke up in a daze. He wore his customary black suit and overcoat. 'This couldn't be real,' he thought. He should be dead.
Confused and disoriented, Vincent voiced his thoughts aloud to the emptiness around him. "Where am I?"
"I believe we're in limbo," a voice answered.
Vincent turned to see a black-haired young boy wearing a white suit seated on a chair at a table, holding a book. The boy looked no less than 10 years old, and no more than 15. It was difficult for Vincent to tell, because the boy emitted a soft light, which was further enhanced by the gas lamp on the table - the only source of light in the otherwise pitch-black world. "Hello, Vincent."
The boy gestured for Vincent to sit on the only empty chair. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you," the boy said, closing his book.
Vincent studied the boy, tilting his head in curiosity, before nodding his head and taking his seat. The boy appeared ghostly, with his pale skin and ethereal aura. Vincent's mind raced with questions.
“You may be wondering why you're here... We've both been slain, and our bodies no longer habitable by our souls.”
Vincent was trained to contain his emotions, and through sheer will, he hid his confusion with a mask of indifference. 'Bodies no longer habitable by our souls?'
“Vincent ‘The Grim Reaper’ De Luca,” the boy said, noting Vincent’s silent gesture for him to continue. “The consigliere of the Lazzaro crime family based in Montreal, Quebec, Canada.” The boy proceeded to recount the events leading up to Vincent's death, including every detail that only Vincent himself knew.
Vincent was surprised by the boy's apparent omniscience and wondered how he could possibly have access to such information. "And you are?" he said and crossed his legs, leaning back against his chair in a relaxed position.
"Hiram Crestmore." The boy then waved his plain, old book. When Hiram showed Vincent the pages, there were no words written on them. “This book contains all your memories. Touching it allowed me to see everything. But. It doesn’t mean I remember everything, nor have I also felt the emotions you felt.”
“Even so... Throughout your twenty years of life... I’ve still recognized the emotions you've expressed - particularly your indifference when you reap your enemies’ lives,” said Hiram. Vincent has killed many for the Lazzaro family, and he became numb to it. “I’ve also witnessed your nightmares. The manifestations of your consciousness and guilt."
“Twenty years... For twenty years, you were trapped in a body you couldn't move,” Vincent concluded, switching the subject back to Hiram.
“You could say that. But it was more of a rush of memories. Then I simply recognized that those memories happened. Recollection of those memories is similar to recollecting my own. It was a strange experience indeed," Hiram said, his voice ringing out in the empty darkness that surrounded them. "I must say, however, that Earth is a fascinating place. A world devoid of aether, but instead filled with advanced architectures and technologies."
Vincent said, "I'm afraid you speak words I fail to understand."
"I'm not from Earth," the boy said, his words heavy with meaning. "I'm from the world of Inar," he began. "A world different from your own. It was a surprise to me as well, upon the revelation that another world of humanity exist aside from ours."
Vincent then asked if Hiram had an idea how they entered this black world.
“Do you remember the last thing you saw before you died?” asked Hiram. Vincent nodded and said he saw a shooting star. “That’s also the last thing I saw before I died. I believe it brought us together, and I believe we’re stuck in this darkness until we both find a way out."
“And that is?” asked Vincent.
“While I’m not an expert, I still have rudimentary knowledge of aetheric theories with regard to the souls. I believe we will be freed if your soul enters my body,” said Hiram, much to Vincent's confusion. “This will then result to you continuing on to live as me.”
“...I reincarnate in Inar as you.”
The boy nodded. “Reincarnation. I believe that term is properly correct.”
Silence weighed in as Vincent closed his eyes in thought. Then he finally broke the silence and said, "You have seen my life, Hiram... You would understand I seek no more than rest."
Hiram looked at Vincent - narrowing his green eyes. “And rest you've been denied... rest we've both been denied. I wish to live on, Vincent, and you wish to die. But the universe sees not our pleas nor our wishes. We are but two souls trapped in eternal darkness. The final choice is yours to make.”
Vincent met Hiram's gaze - he saw eyes that were cold and nigh of hope - before nodding his head in understanding. "Am I to assume that book is the key?"
Hiram nodded. “Yes. I believe the book is a manifestation of both our consciousness. How it took the form, that I do not understand. But books, in both our worlds, are pillars of society. A concept we both understand.”
“The source of learning," said Vincent in agreement.
Hiram then held the book toward Vincent. “You will not recall everything. What you will immediately recall is up to you. It may be my heaviest of memories, or the memories of my learning. But it is with the greatest hope that upon the end of it all... we will both find release.”
Vincent looked at Hiram, before moving both hands to hold the book. He aimed to find a way, that perhaps with Hiram's knowledge, he could find solution so the boy may live.
It simply isn't right that the person who seeks to live the most is the one fated to die. Meanwhile, the person who seeks his final rest is the one fated to live - to live on as the one fated to die.
Upon touching the book, Vincent was hit with a sudden, sharp pain in his head. Then, he grabbed at his temples and accidentally dropped the book, trying to make the discomfort disappear, but it seemed to grow more intense.
He screamed when the pain in his head became nearly unbearable. Then a flood of memories rushed into his mind, overwhelming him completely.
"I'll be waiting," Hiram said as Vincent's consciousness faded into darkness.
The first memory that stood out to Vincent was when Hiram was no more than five years old.
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The crackling of the flames echoed through the night as Hiram's grandfather sat on a log while Hiram perched at his feet. The warmth of the fire wrapped around them like a comforting blanket while the soft glow of the embers illuminated their faces. They were night camping, and Hiram's parents were out for a hunt.
"So, my dear boy," Hamili said, his voice low and gentle. "What have you been up to lately?"
Hiram beamed up at him, eager to share his latest learnings. "Well, Grandpa," he began, "I read about sorcerers! But, I don't get it. Mom and Dad can manipulate the elements, but the book only said that sorcerers could manipulate the aether. Can't you also manipulate the element, grandpa?"
Briefly, Hiram saw a tinge of sadness on Hamili's face at his mention of sorcery. But that sadness immediately shifted back into Hamili's usual happy demeanour.
"Ah, yes, but manipulate is not the proper word. Wizards manipulate the aether, and they can manipulate the elements. But sorcerers can make manifest the aether. If they reach a higher level, they can also manifest elemental spells," said Hamili with a smile. "But reaching a higher level is easier said than done."
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Hiram thought for a moment before saying, "What do you mean by when a sorcerer reaches a higher level, Grandpa? Aren't sorcerers all the same?"
"No, no," said Hamili with a laugh. He said that there are five sorcery levels classified into five different realms: the first realm, the second realm, the third realm, the fourth realm, and the fifth realm. "The realms are called by different names to set them apart from each other: Novice, Sorcerers, High Sorcerers, Grand Sorcerers, and Sovereigns. A sorcerer can reach a higher realm by cultivating their soul core. This system is called the Aetheric Path."
"What you read probably refers to Aetheric Spells. For both Novice and Sorcerers, they can only learn and use Aetheric Spells," said Hamili. "But when they reach the third realm and become High Sorcerers, that is when they can start learning and using elemental spells. Grand Sorcerers, on the other hand, need less time when simultaneously casting spells, making them able to weave and string spells together at a much higher rate."
"As for Sovereigns, even I don't know much about them. But they are the peak of sorcerers, and there are only a few in Inar," said Hamili as he reached over to a nearby table and picked up a bag of marshmallows and a skewer. "Not even a bunch of Grands can hope to defeat a Sovereign. The difference in their power is too big."
Hiram's eyes widened in excitement when Hamili handed him the skewer and placed a marshmallow on top. Together, they held the marshmallow over the fire, watching as it slowly turned golden brown and began to melt. "You're a High Sorcerer, right, Grandpa?"
"Yes. I am what you call a pyromancer, a wielder of the flames. Your mom is a hemomancer, and your dad is a cryomancer. Both are advanced archetypes of the aquamancy class," said Hamili. "You should be proud of them. They're both Grand Sorcerers."
"Are Grand Sorcerers that strong Grandpa? Can you beat them?" asked Hiram, unimpressed, as he looked up at Hamili.
Hamili laughed merrily in response. "It would probably take several High Sorcerers to beat a Grand, Hiram! There is a famous saying that a single Grand Sorcerer can take on a small army on their own. In the whole Alardice archipelago, there are only five Grands. Other places don't even have one."
"Mom and Dad are that strong?!"
"Yes, they're that strong," nodded Hamili. "Like I said, they also utilize the advanced forms of their elements, so they're even stronger than the average Grand Sorcerer. So, not unless you find several Grands to fight them, I don't believe your parents will be harmed. Not to mention the other Grands have no reason to fight each other. One of them is that old Lieutenant Governor who serves under your father."
As they enjoyed their sweet treats, the grandfather regaled his grandson with other stories - the legends and the tales of old. Hiram was entranced by his grandfather's stories; particularly the Blight, who almost covered the world in darkness hundreds of years ago.
Hiram asked how the Blight was repelled.
"The Blight was repelled when the wizards found a way for non-wizards to use the aether. Those people were the first sorcerers," said Hamili.
Hours seemed to pass by in the warmth of the fire as they talked, with Hamili imparting wisdom and knowledge to Hiram. The fire eventually died down to glowing embers. Hamili lit more logs with a fire spell, much to Hiram's enjoyment.
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Vincent continued to watch Hiram's memories; as if they were his own, but at the same time, understood they were not his own. Many days passed, and since the night camping, Vincent saw how Hiram had been ever so excited.
Hiram dreamt of the glory of fighting the Blight. Hiram dreamt of protecting the world from darkness. Hiram dreamt of becoming a hero. Hiram dreamt...
Then Vincent witnessed that fateful day. The day that shattered Hiram's dreams...
⁂
Hiram curled up in bed, hugging his pillow as tears streamed down his face. He heard his parents knocking on his door and calling out to him, but he couldn't bear the thought of facing them right now.
The feeling of emptiness and despair settled over him as he tried to come to terms with the fact he had no soul core - that he could never become a sorcerer. As the minutes ticked by... the knocking also stopped. He felt all alone, trapped in his own pain with none to turn to.
Eventually, Hiram's tears slowed, and his breathing evened out. He lay there in silence, feeling hollow and defeated. He did not know how he would face the world tomorrow, the day after that, or the day after that.
It was a long time before he finally fell asleep, his pillow still clutched tightly in his arms.
⁂
Hiram woke up to the morning light filtering in through his window. For a moment, he lay there in bed, dreading the thought of facing another day. But as he got up and walked toward the door, something caught his eye.
His parents were asleep on the floor outside his room, their bodies curled up together. Hiram's chest tightened as he looked at his parents sleeping on the floor, their peaceful faces bathed in the morning light. He realized that they must have stayed up all night.
With misty eyes, he realized how much his parents cared, and how much he needed them and loved them.
He looked at their peaceful faces, looking so vulnerable and tired. He knelt down next to his parents and gently shook their shoulders, waking them up.
"Mom, Dad," he whispered. "I'm sorry for how I acted last night. Can we talk now?"
His parents stirred and opened their eyes, looking at him with a mix of relief and exhaustion. They sat up slowly and hugged him, pulling him close and promising that they would always be there for him, no matter what.
A sense of peace washed over him.
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Years passed...
While Hiram could not become a sorcerer, another path lay before him - wizardry. The first requirement of becoming a wizard is the absence of a soul core. But he could not become a wizard overnight, it would take a lifetime of study just to be able to start studying the aether.
When he tried studying the intricate workings of the aether, poring over ancient texts, he found them difficult to understand. He then realized that it was true. Prospects need to study complex and interconnected studies like math, science, history and many other fields of study just to understand the basics of the aether.
But he worked hard, for there was nothing else for him to do.
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Many more years have passed, and Hiram's almost 12. In Inar, birthdays for youths are not celebrated each year, but instead in milestones as they slowly transition into adulthood; 1, 6, 12, and 18.
The halls of his family's grand mansion were alive with activity. Servants scurried to and fro, attending to the numerous preparations that were underway.
"We should celebrate it at the forest garden," said Talia as she looked around.
Lucius agreed.
Despite the joy and excitement that seemed to permeate the entire household, Hiram himself was filled with a sense of unease. He began to wander the vast halls of the mansion, his small frame dwarfed by the towering statues and elaborate furnishings surrounding him. He could not help feeling that something was amiss.
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Finally, the day of the celebration came, but Hiram found himself retreating further and further into his own thoughts. He went to the balcony and stared out at the forest garden, stretching along the base of a mountain, where the birthday party would take place.
While the sun was long gone, the stars and the moon shone ever so brightly in the sky, illuminating the forest garden below. Hiram's mind was lost in a sea of unease. Was it excitement or just anxiety?
Talia, his mother, found him. "You look wonderful, my dear,” whispered Talia and pecked Hiram’s cheek. Her voice was like a tender wind with a hint of spring. "The guests will soon come. We must make haste."
Hiram looked at her, wearing a long, crimson dress simple in design, without the usual frills, ornate embroidery, or embellishments. It was cut modestly, yet it flowed so gracefully.
"Can we not celebrate my birthday, mother?" he said.
Talia widened her green eyes in shock. "Is something wrong?"
"No, I just have a bad feeling that something isn't right. A sense of foreboding," he said as he looked up at Talia. "A premonition that something terrible will happen."
She knelt down so her eyes would be level with his before wrapping his hands with her own.
"I understand," she said, her voice gentle and reassuring. "Sometimes we have premonitions, or feelings, that we can't explain. But I want you to know that no matter what happens, we will face it together. Your father and I will always be here to protect you."
Hiram saw the gentle smile on his mother's lips, bringing him a sense of peace. His parents are both Grand Sorcerers, after all. What could ever go wrong? None in Alardice could ever challenge them, especially when they are together. "Of course, mother," he said and nodded, but the sense of impending danger still lingered in the back of his mind.
"Come here," Talia said and pulled Hiram into a tight embrace.
As he hugged his mother, he could not help but wonder what the future held, wishing his premonition would not be true.
Lucius, Hiram's father, also found them. He's dressed in an elegant black suit. "I have been looking for you two," said Lucius with a laugh before looking at Hiram. "Are you ready, my son?"
Hiram nodded his head with a smile.