Reial shivered as a chilling spring breeze rustled the frost from the red leaves. It appears remnants of winter would persist until late summer again. Just what they needed. If there was one drawback about living in the north, it was being so dwelling close to Geschen. Empyreans know how cold it could get there.
Although they were accustomed to the climate, that didn’t mean they were immune to it. One could only withstand the weather for so long until they too felt a chill in their bones. Charette folded her arms, shivering as she tried to keep warm.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to Stride us to the next town?” Reial asked.
“Yes, I’m sure,” Came Charette’s muffled response.
Reial frowned. The weather had cooled only recently, leading to light flurries of snow that melted away as soon as it made landfall. It would be mad to continue subjecting their bodies to this kind of torture. Even Scorch, warm as he appeared, was shaking. Rubbing up against their legs for warmth.
Reial fared a bit better, having brought gloves to keep his hands warm and a scarf their mother had woven for him. He had given the latter to his sister, who had wrapped it tightly around her neck and mouth. The fabric bore the same colors as Scorch’s fur and scales.
Suppressing a sigh, Reial continued down the road. He wished he could understand his sister, or that she would at least tell him what was bothering her. Mostly because he lacked the courage to ask her himself. That would be too insensitive.
Perhaps she would come to conqueror the fear plaguing her mind. Time could heal all wounds. In most cases that is. Sometimes they left nasty scars he’d rather not glance at.
Shaking his mind free of those thoughts, he investigated the depths of the forest for a brief distraction. The mahogany leaves of the redwoods were muted with frost like a frozen flame. Stout, frost-bitten clumps of wood sprouted from the ground, skeletal reminders of the shrubs that once filled the forest. None of that could compare to the eerie silence hanging in the air. On days like these, blinding red wings chose to burrow themselves in their hollows.
Rei’s Peace, that’s what they called this mini winter. Reial didn’t understand why it was called that, some said it was because he would use moments like these to retreat into The World’s Throne. Others said it was because he reflected on his past actions and accomplishments. To Reial, he saw it as little more than an opportunity to laze about.
Being subjected to workload after workload, even when he was being schooled, had never sat right with him. If people only focused on work, did that mean they were afraid of being seen as lazy? Or did they work to grow an appreciation of what they had? “Know that every answer, save for those of mathematics, is all a matter of perspective.” Eston had said. “History, philosophy, literature, and to an extent, economics. People want to do accomplish what they see as opportunistic, just, or scandalous.
Reial smiled. The kindly old scholar was his favorite of a long line of teachers. He was Uvandran, so of course he took a lax approach to education. Where other upstanding Aunesfernish educators would label him as lazy, Reial saw him as efficient. Voicing his opinions, and even asking for Reial’s own on subjects deemed sensitive. Saying that one shouldn’t be afraid to speak their mind, but neither should they neglect the facts and impact the events in question had on the world and its people. Eston was intelligent, an engaging storyteller, and above all else, open-minded.
Reial was grateful that his education had ended with him. If he had more teachers like Eston, would he have turned out differently? Perhaps he would’ve stayed home, preparing to leave for some grand university his parents had picked out for him.
No, nothing would’ve changed. Even if he had better teachers, it still would’ve happened regardless. Jadica, Charette, Scorch. It was his fault they were hurt. He was a coward. Not like Scorch, not like Charette or Jadica who had fought back while he watched. Being a Veil Strider wasn’t enough, it would never be enough.
Reial pressed a gloved hand against his numb cheek, rubbing it for warmth. How long had they been walking for again? Time seemed to blur whenever he was caught in his own thoughts. Would the voice chastise him for overthinking? It could listen to his every thought, even if they weren’t directed at It. Would It find them annoying?
Reial grimaced. What conjured it into being? Perhaps it only appeared when his consciousness was near evaporation. What did that make it then? A figment of his imagination, or his inner voice of reason? Maybe something in between? He thought curiously.
What if the answer didn’t matter? It could be something as simple as a broadcast he subconsciously clung to. There were stories of people doing that in their sleep and having them replace their dreams. Still, the voice’s uncanny ability to respond to his questions at a moment’s notice was perplexing. Too real.
Eventually, his thoughts faded to a whisper with each crackling footstep. It quickly began to wear on him. Each rhythmic step followed by a short burst of silence and breathing. First for an hour, then two. His legs stung as the cold seeped through his pants, and he was sure it was the same for Charette. Probably worse because of her leggings. Why was she so resolute on him not using his abilities? She would usually complain about the cold weather, yet she remained silent for not one, but two hours. Huffing into his scarf as if she had run a mile.
Scorch began whipping their legs with his tail, generating a weak wave of heat. They had never particularly trained him to use the Solvaylian Arts, they weren’t even sure how you taught a drog to do it. Luckily for them, drogs were one of the few species that were naturally gifted with the ability to use the Solvaylian Arts. Reial attributed the feat due to their intelligence.
The heat generated by his tail wasn’t enough sadly, and they continued to shiver. With a groan, Reial snatched the drog up from his spot, allowing it to coil around his upper body, then he grabbed his sister and Strode forward in an explosive leap of ruby sparks.
What would’ve taken them hours to travel was accomplished in a matter of seconds. Speeding past rigid animals, bouncing coaches, fallen logs, ponds, and rushing rivers. It still amazed him that he was capable of performing these actions. They shouldn’t have been possible, but much like the Solvaylian Arts, they defied physics.
“Steady…” The voice advised him.
Reial nearly jumped in surprise, but that would’ve propelled him to the tops of the trees. He had to watch his strength. “What’re now?”
“Don’t overexert yourself. You have others to case for.” It explained.
“I won’t.”
“You say that, but you don’t mean it.”
“I do.”
It hummed condescendingly. “Then stop after you crest that hill over there.”
Reial peered over with his Veil Sight. Making out the thinnest blades of grass and the treedint roaches that scuttled on fallen logs. Cresting the hillside road, he came to a complete halt. There, in the center of a massive clearing, sat the city of Macoula.
His Veil Seeing eyes flickered from corner to corner, making out the details of buildings and faces as if he were standing right in front of them, and not dozens of miles away. Although his body had stopped moving, his vision continued to register the world as frozen. It still boggled his mind that Veil Sight had been created for the purpose of birdwatching.
Glancing at his sister, he found her glaring at him, furious. Though her mouth didn’t move, he could already hear what she was going to say. He reluctantly relinquished his hold over the power, returning the world to motion.
“I told you that I didn’t need your help!” Charette shouted. “And let me down!”
Reial stood her on her feet and felt Scorch uncoil from his waist, alleviating the pressure immediately. “You were cold.”
“So?”
Reial narrowed his eyes at her. Why was she being so stubborn? “Charette, I couldn’t just let us freeze to death.”
“I didn’t want you hurting yourself again because of me, all right?” She said, her anger slightly diminishing.
“Hurting myself…? Is this because of what happened last week? Charette, I was going to survive regardless.”
“Don’t say it so casually like that! Putting yourself in danger for my sake, it just feels wrong. Like you don’t care about what happens anymore.”
“Charette…” What could he say? Reial cared about his condition, at least, that’s what he told himself.
Scorch came in between them, his head cocked as if in question. “It’s nothing, Scorch. We’re just talking.” Charette explained to the drog.
Scorch nodded, nuzzling her hand before prancing down the hill to the city. The weather was more bearable here, but not by much.
“Charette, you know that I’m just doing what’s best for us, right?” Reial said.
His sister regarded him hesitantly. Could she see past his lies? “Sometimes.”
Without another word, she left. It would take a few minutes to reach the city, but at least it would be warm once they passed the stasis dome. Sighing, Reial followed after her. His answers had never been enough. Half-baked explanations that his teachers scoffed at, all except Eston. They had good reason to doubt his judgment.
It dawned on him how little his powers aided him in his life. If they were to disappear the next day, nothing would change. He would continue to be just as miserable and lost as he had been for the last six years. If the Almagest was real, then why would They waste it on someone like him?
Falling back to his sister’s side, he studied the city’s architecture. Tall buildings, well made in the modern Aunesfernish style. Not a surprise, this city was nowhere near as ancient as Aunesfern itself. Dating back to the height of Vaes’s Crusade, the city was founded some six-hundred years ago as a military outpost.
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Spires partially made of cosmocury drilled into the sky, shining like obsidian obelisks. A short wall was erected around the city to keep out wildlife, however, what caught his attention was the massive building sprouting from the center of it all. Its surface was pocketed with windows in the Mirsian fashion as arches supported its weight. Then there was that curiously swirling rooftop. It was as if the sky were trying to rip it from the earth. Of course, Charette couldn’t see the finer details without Veil Sight.
“Isn’t that the Empyreans Haven?” She asked, squinting to get a better look at it.
“I believe so,” Reial answered.
“I can’t believe we’re already halfway to Recunda.”
“The Veil Striding probably helped.”
Charette huffed, though he knew it would’ve gotten a rise out of her. “The murals were painted by Layrlet, right?”
Reial blinked. “How did you know that?”
Charette gave him a flat look. “Because I learned it from Yi’Len.”
“You did?”
“Will you stop acting surprised every time I remember something from my tutoring!” She pouted. “I’m not dumb. Mostly.”
“Sorry, it’s just that…never mind.”
The air around them warmed as they passed through the stasis dome. An artificial barrier that averaged the temperature in a city. Even on the hottest day of the summer, one could expect fresh spring weather. Since his family lived outside the city, they owned a small generator of it.
Macoula was different from Osafa and Aunesfern in that it was quiet despite the people roaming the streets. It was almost humbling. Reial knew that the place was recognized as the center of religious worship in the state. From Mechora’s Followers to the Almagestian church. Although the former would never admit to being religious at all.
It felt as if speaking above a whisper would cause a Nether Dweller to stir from its slumber. People weren’t outfitted in robes or holy clothes, though they did wear jewelry and wooden necklaces displaying the symbols of their past asylums. Yuson—the world’s founder—had described the heavens differently in his accounts. Reial didn’t understand why though.
The rumble of a nearby coach drew his attention as he watched it roll down the street. Disturbing the peace that had draped over his mind.
Considering the weather, it was best that they stayed the night in an inn. Preferably a cheap one too. Besides, news of their disappearance has yet to hit the Sygnal. Reial suspected his parents’ pride had a factor to play in that equation. However, the part that worried him the most was the thought of them hiring a Courser. They had the money for it.
Perhaps that’s why his fears had altogether disappeared. Why should he be afraid of something his parents wouldn’t openly announce? No one was actively searching for them. Even if they were found out, they could Stride away. He only needed her approval now.
Luckily, he knew how to broach the subject. “Charette?” He called.
“What is it?”
“About my Striding- “
“No.” She said firmly.
“Charette.”
“I don’t want you doing that to yourself again.”
“Will you at least hear me out first?”
Charette’s lips thinned. “Fine.”
“Thank you. For your sake, I won’t Stride us across the countryside haphazardly. Instead, we’ll map out the towns closest to us, and use those as checkpoints for me to Stride to. If the distance is too great, we can simply walk there. How does that sound?”
“And we’ll only Stride to the locations closest to us?” She repeated.
“Yes.” He reaffirmed.
Sighing, she nodded. “Okay, but you better make sure you won’t try anything dumb.”
He couldn’t be a greater fool than he already was. “I promise.”
As they traversed the city, they happened upon what appeared to be the market district. Here, there was more noise. Like a coach, the air rumbled with voices. Soft and steady, as if they were afraid of breaking the sanctity of the city. People still laughed, and babies cried, but it was never too much for him.
Reaching a food vendor, they found Scorch standing at his full height, staring down at the food arrayed on the warm, steaming metal. Give him a long coat, pants, and a hat, and he could probably pass for a person. The thought made Reial’s lips squirm with a smile.
“Umm, sir? Ma’am?” The vendor called. She looked to be in her early thirties. “Is this your drog?”
“Yeah, sorry about that. He was just hungry.” Reial explained.
“I can see that.”
Charette and Reial read the small Solvaylian Projection hovering to the side of the cart. A menu. “What’s a uralé?” Charette asked.
“Meat stuffed with vegetables and cheese. It’s a Mirsian dish.” She pointed to the various items on the grill. “Five dollars for a basket of three.”
Reial examined a uralé. The meat appeared juicy and tender. “I can go for one,” Reial said. “What about you, Charette?”
Charette hummed, then looked at Scorch who was nodding, his tongue rolling out. “Sure.”
Reial dug into his bag for his wallet, taking out fifteen Yusanian dollars and handing them to the vendor. She handed him and Charette a basket each, then they walked off, leaving her confused. Scorch took their spot next, his jaw open and ready to accept the treat. The vendor awkwardly took a basket and dumped the uralé’s inside of his mouth. He fell back on all fours, chewing and savoring the stuffed meat.
Reial chuckled and bit into a uralé, pleasantly surprised by the mix of flavors. It had chewy potato bits in there too. His favorite. Finishing their snack, they continued forward.
The stores here weren’t as grand or familiar as the ones back in Aunesfern, save for the general store and a few restaurants. Scorch was often tempted to wander into one of them in search of food, but they specifically told him not to do that. Like any good drog, he followed their orders, albeit reluctantly.
Most of the windows presented nothing they haven’t already seen before. Kitchen appliances, the latest books, dresses and suits, furniture, pet toys, and costumes for some reason. Charette pointed out a silly drog outfit that she wanted to try on, and after much debate, they quickly went and threw the thing on. She looked ridiculous, especially with the cartoony hood of a smiling blue and black drog.
“I think it looks great.” She proudly proclaimed.
Reial failed to suppress his laughter all the while, which led to him wearing it too. After a bit of “gentle persuasion” on Charette’s behalf. Scorch bounced with excitement. Thankfully, the costume shop allowed for pets to enter. It still didn’t replace his embarrassment at wearing the thing.
“Can we leave now?” He asked, eyes to the ceiling as he refused to meet the gazes of the other shoppers.
“Just one more minute!” She begged.
Reial groaned. That minute turned into an hour of trying on different costumes. From Nether Dwellers to kingly robes, they must have gone through at least half of the store’s catalog. A part of him hated embarrassing himself so willingly, yet another adored it. The laughter, the rush to find the most ridiculous or stylish costume, the people who complimented them on their red eyes.
Pleasant, that was the word he was searching for. It was pleasant. His worries and guilt, those didn’t matter right now. There was only him, Charette, Scorch, and their laughter. What more could he possibly ask for?
He left the costume store feeling more pleased with himself. More alive. Like he belonged. Was it all right for him to feel that way?
“What was your favorite costume?” Charette asked him.
“The spiral ham was pretty good.” Reial grinned.
“What? That one was boring!”
“Scorch really liked it, right Scorch?” The drog yipped an affirmative. “See?”
Charette rolled her eyes.
“What about you? What was your favorite?”
“It still has to be the drog one. I really want to buy it.”
“Then why don’t you?” If his memory served right, it was fifty dollars. Pretty cheap for something of that quality.
“I don’t think my bag is large enough to carry it.” She explained.
The hours blended into an incoherent mess as they explored the market. Finding incredible, albeit niche items in more odd establishments. A tablet that could project images, like a Solvaylian Projection, a cup that condensed the moisture in the air to fill itself with water, and a dispenser that rolled out hard candies after a set amount of Essence was instilled.
His elation ebbed as they finally reached the foot of the grand church. The Empyreans Haven, a sculpted beauty, though it couldn’t match the grandeur of the Remnants. Nothing save Silk could. Here, his horrors crept back into his heart. His dread, his failings, his guilt.
Presented to their so-called God. The same one which had never revealed Itself to humanity. Not even to Hyvas. How could something they worship care so little about them? How could something they praise, and love turn a blind eye when they suffered? It, like the voice, confused and frustrated him to no end.
They walked up the flight of stairs. There must have been close to one-hundred steps by the looks of it. Building something on this scale was the best they could do to honor an Empyrean.
“Why are there so many stairs?” Charette whined as they were already three-fourths of the way up. She wasn’t breaking a sweat, but even she wasn’t as tireless as a Strider.
“Probably because it was built on the original hill Vaes found the settlement on,” Reial explained.
“Couldn’t he have picked a flatter area?”
“Feels perfectly flat to me.”
His response only served to provoke her. Upon making it to the top, they were faced with a pair of solid gold doors parted open. Thousands of pristine wooden benches lined the main hall, covered with red and golden embroidered cushioning. There was a severe lack of large windows in the room, but that didn’t make the place dim nor stuffy. In fact, each breath he took felt as natural as breathing in the forest air. The walls were kept alight by chandeliers and Solvaylian Guides that bobbed around the many pillars inside. Then he gasped.
Despite the many breaks and spaces between the pillars, the murals of the Empyreans were painted seamlessly. Exania Mechora took up the entirety of the left side, surrounded in a lab by radiant ores of cosmocury. Striders Silk was arrayed behind her, each underneath an asylum. Her expression was one of gentle intrigue, like a mother finding a baby at her doorstep. She handled the pieces in her hands so tenderly it was as if she was caring for one. The stories surrounding here always made certain to stress this borderline obsessive thirst for knowledge.
Her skin was flawless, though from the looks of her burning orange eyes he discerned she was of Thírian descent. A master of both the Solvaylian Arts and engineering, she was a trusted friend and confidant of Vaes in his later years.
His eyes swept to the right wall, where Rei, his great ancestor, sat on the ancient Aunesfernish throne. An ornate seat of gold and jewel-encrusted beauty that did not sacrifice comfort with its efficient shape and cushioning. Despite his comfortable posture, his scarlet eyes were ever brooding. Thinking, devising a way to once again unite their world.
Save for the neatly trimmed beard, Reial could see himself and his sister in him. His features were gentle while simultaneously appearing firm. Rei was a king, a statesman, not a warrior. Yet despite being a king and surrounded by shadows, he came off as a solitary figure.
In the center wall at the far end of the building was Vaes. Resplendent in his black, silver, and gold Silk, standing above a barren battlefield. One cracked, pocketed with craters, newly formed split valleys, and ridges. Above him gleamed a star. Its white light pouring down around him in the darkened land. A lengthy staff with a cosmocury spearhead in one hand and a hammer the size of a man in the other. His Weapons of Fervor. Judgment made manifest.
Charette wandered ahead of him, almost as if in a trance. Admiring the striking, lifelike detail that went into the murals. Even Scorch stared at the mural of Exania Mechora, his orange eyes thoughtful. As if trying to comprehend if it was real or not.
A flash of colors from the ceiling drew Reial’s attention towards it. There he was. Hyvas, the First Veil Strider, sole savior, chosen of the Almagest, Nether Dwellers Bane. The piece was painted in a bottom-up perspective as if he were watching the events unfold from a hill below. He Strode across ruined earth towards a collection of horribly twisted abominations. Far too many limbs, far too many eyes, far too human. Why were they like that? Hyvas’s weapons were shattered, some mere fragments, others to the point of breaking. No Strider could use ordinary weapons without risk of breaking them upon first strike.
Despite Hyvas being one of the most revered figures in their known history, no one knew what he looked like. Sometimes he was depicted as a shadowy, armored figure. Other times a humble priestly man. Then there were the odd depictions, like the one with him wearing an outlandish, sleek helm that didn’t quite resemble a Silk hood. This was one of those times.
“Empyreans…it’s beautiful,” Reial awed.
“Layrlet certainly was passionate about the project,” Charette whispered back.
There were only a handful of people in the church, some at prayer, others regarding the murals with awe. Were they travelers just like them?
The building hummed with a holy aura. That was the only word Reial could think of to describe it. Speaking above a whisper wouldn’t have felt wrong, it would’ve been wrong. Is it special simply because we believe it’s special? He pondered.
What made something significant? Was it the history behind it? The context? Or the general impact it left on its populace? If he had never entered the church, he would’ve thought the building like any other. This day, if he hadn’t taken the chance and carried Charette to Macoula, would’ve been like any other. Miserable as he sought purpose and excuse.
Instead, he had laughed, eaten, and explored. The day was special not because he wanted it to be, but because he thought it was. Because he made it special.
“Perhaps belief serves more than a spiritual purpose.” The voice hummed.
Reial smiled. “Perhaps.”