The echoes of the child's cries were the only thing that could be heard on those desolate streets, his voice laced with heartbreaking sorrow. "Mom, Dad!?" The boy wailed, his small hands trembling as he tried desperately to wake his lifeless parents. But no matter how hard he shook them, their bodies remained limp, their eyes devoid of life. Warm blood stained his innocent hands and body, a cruel reminder of the violence that had shattered his world.
A mere five years old, had short black hair that framed his cherubic face, and his eyes were as dark as the night sky. The sound of gunshots still echoed in his ears, a haunting symphony of danger and despair. With a determination beyond his tender years, he mustered all his strength to drag his parents' lifeless bodies to a safer spot, away from the chaos that surrounded them.
But as he struggled with his burden, a presence made itself known, sending a shiver down the boy’s spine. He turned his gaze, fear pooling in his eyes, and found himself face-to-face with a towering enemy soldier. There was regret etched on the soldier's face, a fleeting glimpse of humanity in a sea of violence.
A sudden shot rang out, its deafening sound tearing through the air. The soldier's voice pierced through the chaos, commanding the kid to take cover. However, the words were lost on the young boy, their meaning drowned out by the overwhelming fear that gripped his heart. Sensing the urgency, the soldier, his eyes filled with a mixture of compassion and determination, grabbed the boy’s head and forced him down, sheltering him with his own body. At that moment, the boy’s fear of this stranger momentarily subsided, replaced by a glimmer of gratitude. Had the soldier not forced him to duck he would have died.
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As Zak's eyes fluttered open, he found himself in a different place altogether. The Highest Judge, an elderly man whose name still remained a mystery to Zak, stood before him. They were deep within the catacombs of Paris, an eerie labyrinth of darkness and decay that Zak had never experienced before.
The old man paused and instructed Zak to wait for a moment. With a nod, Zak complied, his eyes darting around the dimly lit tunnels as he anxiously awaited the old man's return.
After a few minutes, the judge returned followed by a woman who emerged from the shadows, her black robes billowing around her. She wore a Venetian carnival mask, her identity concealed behind its elaborate design. She bowed gracefully when she noticed Zak.
"It’s nice to meet you," the woman greeted him, her words laced with a hint of playfulness. She exuded an air of confidence, her presence commanding attention.
A smile tugged at the old man's lips, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Everything is going well, better than I thought," He replied, his voice filled with a sense of satisfaction. There was a silent understanding between them, a shared secret that Zak didn’t comprehend.
Zak's heart pounded in his chest as the woman walked towards him, her figure shrouded in darkness. He strained his eyes, trying to make out any details, but the dim light of their lamps rendered her features indistinguishable. Frustrated, Zak reluctantly gave up, resigning himself to the mystery of her appearance.
Silently, the woman stood beside him, her presence both comforting and unnerving. Zak couldn't tear his gaze away from her mask. A mask that under the dim light and the darkness surrounding them looked more like that of a looming demon ready to attack him.
"Be a good boy," The woman said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Good boys won't have problems in the future." But before he could say anything, the woman vanished into the shadows.
The old man, who had been silent throughout their encounter, finally spoke up as they continued their walk. He informed Zak that they would soon reach a dead end, forcing them to navigate a hidden passage. Placing the lamp on the ground, the old man braced himself and delivered a powerful blow to one of the blocks. The wall creaked and groaned, giving way to a narrow, dimly lit corridor.
"What is all this?" Zak asked, but the old man remained silent, his gaze fixed on the tunnel ahead. Eventually, he turned to face Zak and offered a cryptic response.
"Welcome," he began, his voice filled with a mix of awe and caution, "Welcome to the Underground City of Saint Germain.
Zak's eyes widened in astonishment. He had heard Völundr mention it. Now, standing amid this hidden realm, he felt a mixture of fear and excitement.
As they ventured further into the darkness, Zak struggled to see beyond the limited radius of their lamps. The old man explained that this passage was an ancient route, seldom used in recent times. The newer entrances, he revealed, were scattered throughout Paris, heavily guarded by the city's formidable army. Zak couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude towards the old man for guiding him through this treacherous path.
Suddenly, a faint glimmer of light appeared at the end of the corridor, drawing Zak's attention. As they approached, he noticed a massive granite slab obscuring their way. Rays of light peeked through the gaps, offering a tantalizing glimpse of what lay beyond.
Without hesitation, the judge traced a square in the air with his finger, moistening it with his saliva. To Zak's astonishment, the slab slid to the side, revealing a hidden entrance. The judge motioned for Zak to enter, and he reluctantly stepped through, the slab closing behind him with an ominous thud.
Zak found himself face to face with a breathtaking bronze statue. Towering twenty feet high, it depicted a fierce battle between a Jana and an alchemist. The intricately detailed figures seemed to come alive, frozen in eternal combat.
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"Do you like it?" The judge asked. "These are the founders of this city, Saint Germain and Agostina D'Incceco."
Zak's eyes darted between the two imposing figures, captivated by the intensity of their struggle. "Are they battling?" He asked, the question escaping his lips before he could even register it.
The judge smiled knowingly, his eyes gleaming with ancient wisdom. "In a way," he replied enigmatically, leaving Zak with more questions than answers.
Zak stood in awe, his eyes fixed on the magnificent bronze statue before him. The statue depicted Saint Germain, the renowned alchemist, in all his glory. Saint Germain stood tall, his arms outstretched to the sides and his body slightly tilted back, as if he were embracing the world. He was dressed in an impeccably tailored suit coat, many bronze lines flowing around him like a liquid.
In front of Saint Germain stood Agostina, the illiterate gypsy who had once lived in the poverty-stricken neighborhood of the Cour des Miracles. She wore a dress adorned with intricate embroidery and shimmering jewels. In her right hand, she held a wand, from which strange bronze waters flowed, encircling her opponent. And behind her, a sword, controlled by the man, pointed menacingly at her neck.
As Zak examined the statue, he couldn't help but be captivated by the story it represented. “Let me tell you the story,” The judge said.
Saint Germain had mysteriously appeared with a Messianic aura, offering the people of the Cour des Miracles a city of their own. Not everyone followed him, but Agostina, the matriarch of the Romani people, had eagerly embraced his proposal. Together, they had founded the second Hidden City, although, at that time, it was nothing more than a small underground hideout.
But as time went on, it became apparent that Saint Germain's true intention was to form his own army with the inhabitants of this new city. Agostina, however, was not one to be easily swayed. She challenged him to a Thaumaturgy duel, a battle that lasted for hours. And, as the legend goes, Agostina emerged victorious. Saint Germain, to his credit, accepted his defeat with honor.
In gratitude for his acceptance, Agostina renamed the new Cour des Miracles, the city they had built, after him. For it was Saint Germain who had lifted them out of poverty and given them a chance at a better life. And so, this once humble pigsty transformed into a powerful and influential city in the shadows, its influence reaching far and wide.
Over the years, the New Court of Miracles had gained recognition, even catching the attention of Paasilinna. Many scholars and erudite individuals claimed that the French Revolution had its roots in this very city. It had become the Hidden City with the highest number of Arlos and Janas. Nearly 40% of its inhabitants were skilled practitioners of Thaumaturgy.
As Zak's gaze lingered on the statue, the judge's voice snapped him back to reality. It was time to continue their trip through the Underground City. Zak reluctantly tore his eyes away from the mesmerizing artwork, his mind filled with wonder and curiosity. The city around him was bathed in the warm glow of artificial light, emanating from a towering structure that pierced the darkness above.
With each step, Zak couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation. This new city held countless secrets, waiting to be discovered. As he ventured deeper into the city. Unlike the size of the statue, the square where Zak loitered was small and with scarce vegetation. He walked to Miranda Avenue after the judge and hailed a taxi cab, its white paint gleaming under the city lights. The old man leaned in and politely asked the chauffer, "Take us to the Botanical Garden."
With a nod, the chauffer maneuvered through the bustling streets of the downtown of the city, reminiscent of old Paris but with a sprinkling of more modern architecture. Zak couldn't help but notice that the buildings rarely exceeded eight stories, as if the city itself was trying to maintain a sense of intimacy with its inhabitants.
After a short ride of no more than fifteen minutes, they arrived at their destination. The Botanical Garden loomed before them, its entrance adorned with intricate dragon-like shapes that seemed to absorb the surrounding light. They stepped inside the main lobby, the air thick with the fragrance of blooming flowers and the soft rustle of leaves.
Making their way to the ticket booth, they purchased their tickets and entered the garden. As they walked deeper into the enchanting oasis, a massive willow tree towered in front of them, its branches reaching out like open arms, beckoning them to explore the wonders within the garden.
The old man's eyes twinkled as he led Zak through the winding paths, away from the bustling crowds. They ventured into a tranquil wooded area, the artificial sunlight filtering through the canopy above, casting a gentle glow on their surroundings. After several minutes of walking, they arrived at a secluded spot marked by a cairn and a small sculpture.
“A grave?”
“It is,” the old judge said. “A grave of someone you just met.”
Zak glanced at the small sculpture and said, "Is this Agostina's grave?"
The old man nodded solemnly. "Yes, it is said," he confessed. "Legend has it that long ago, an old sage discovered the secret to cheating death. He claimed that only those who could control the Keres could transcend mortality."
Intrigued, Zak prodded further. "Keres? Völundr mentioned it once, but I don’t know what it is."
The old man's smile widened. "Ah, yes. The Aether is the life force that courses through all living beings. We all possess a limited amount within. Some have learned to harness the Aether of their environment, creating miracles beyond imagination. Thaumaturgy."
Zak listened intently, his senses attuned to every word. The revelation hit him like a lightning bolt, sending a shiver down his spine. "But there is a serious problem with this," the judge's voice echoed in his mind. "Using the Aether for Thaumaturgy dirties our soul, our very essence. Like when you burn fuel, you ignite the engine of a machine but end up releasing smoke. When Aether is consumed, it’s turned into Keres. When we burn out all our Aether and only Keres fills our soul, we die."
Zak's eyes widened in disbelief. Völundr, his mentor, had never mentioned this strange and dangerous phenomenon before. It was as if a forbidden secret had been unveiled.
As the weight of this revelation settled upon him, Zak's thoughts raced. The judge’s voice resonated in his mind once again, urging him to embark on his first mission.
"I want you to seek out the mortal remains of Agostina," the judge said. "Find out how she managed to reverse her Keres."
Zak nodded, his resolve solidifying. This was his moment, his chance to prove himself as a worthy apprentice. As the judge left the scene to go somewhere else in the garden, a sense of anticipation coursed through Zak's veins. He couldn't help but smile.
With newfound determination, Zak reached for the gleaming ring that Völundr had bestowed upon him. Its intricate design, crafted with meticulous attention to detail, seemed to shimmer with the small flame inside its jewel.
In one swift motion, Zak tossed the ring into the air, watching as it soared gracefully against the backdrop of the evening sky. The ring spun and twirled. With each rotation, Zak's heart raced.
As the ring descended, Zak's mind buzzed with questions. What secrets lay hidden within Agostina's tomb? How had she defied the corrupting nature of Keres? With each passing moment, Zak's determination grew, fueled by the knowledge that he was about to embark on an extraordinary journey.
With a final flicker in his eyes, Zak set off on his quest. He put the flaming ring on his right index finger and kissed it. Then he vanished.