I knew my time in this body had finally come to an end when I reconstructed the Colosseum. For a brief instance I had thought I had seen a former self gathering power in a distant courtyard. For a moment, fleeting as it was, I felt a rush of fear. It was the first time in centuries I had felt that, and the rush of it left me somewhere between dread and excitement. Sadly, I knew it was a hallucination, which plagues me every time my body is near its time. This one has served me well, better than most. I had thought that maybe the engine was ready, that it may be this body that I succeed in my seemingly eternal quest. Alas, I must take one more before my day of glory.
It might be upsetting to some, but what’s one more tally in my long list? What’s one more on my path to damnation?
Dazed, Dorian was wracked with a sudden sensation of guilt. Unsure why, he opened his eyes to a cooing Sister Brenda. Her concerned look didn’t match her face, where her usual doer expression carried lines on her face, this one didn’t. For some reason it felt very endearing to him, so instead of doing what he would normally do, ruin the moment by saying something crass, he held his tongue.
“There, there,” she said as she hugged Dorian’s head. What was going on?
Sister Brenda sat Dorian’s head down on something rough. He sat up quickly and instantly regretted it. His vision spun slightly, and he had to steady himself by hugging his knees.
“I’ll have that, well done Sister.” Movement behind him, Dorian recognized the barking voice of Brother Michael. Dorian closed his eyes, hoping it would stop the world from spinning. He quickly found the thought to be a false supposition. He could hear voices nearby, muffled and nonsensical, like the indistinct murmur of a conversation he wasn’t paying attention to. One voice rose with a questioning lilt, and another replied with what might as well have been gibberish. It reminded him of a warped melody, something vaguely familiar but utterly incomprehensible in his foggy state.
Opening his eyes, he focused on his hands. Gradually, everything became clear, and after a moment, he realized that the indistinct noise he had been hearing was his teachers arguing nearby.
Mustering himself, he came to the decision that he’d like to have a say-so in whatever the hell was going on.
“It’s not as though this is a simple affair, you saw what I did. You know what this will mean to the Arcanum, and if the Thirane find out about this, by the Gods there will be trouble. Now what are you going to do?” Brother Michael said, sounding more like a statement than a question.
“I…” Sister Brenda took a breath and said, “I don’t know yet, Michael.” She looked away, not out of shame, but in an attempt to think clearly.
“Come now, Brenda.” The Brother’s voice becoming suddenly patient. “You know he’s just a boy, I know you’re stern and stubborn. You’ve always been the one to follow the rules, but ever so often you must listen to your gut. What’s it telling you now?”
Pensive, she sighed out, “my gut is telling me I’ve made enough exceptions for the boy, and that the amount of dung I’ll be stacked in, if I allow this to go undocumented, will be absurd.”
“Do you remember the last early Ascension?”
Sister Brenda winced, then nodded. “Yes, and she was too young by half..”
Brother Michael gestured towards Dorian, unexpectedly realizing his presence as his hand extended. His eyes widened in alarm momentarily before he composed himself, a look of embarrassment crossing his face. Not unlike a child caught stealing treats, except it was his athletics instructor, which made the expression look odd in Dorian’s mind.
“Dorian,” he said, “so nice of you to join us.” The tone of his voice sounded like he was trying to save face, but knew there was no real way for him to do that at this point. Looking chagrined, he coughed into his hand, as if on cue Sister Brenda started speaking.
“Initiate, I think what Brother Michael was going to say is that he was just stepping out, as you and I have much to discuss.” She leveled a glare at Brother Michael, one that Dorian decided to put to memory. That kind of a glare could come in handy, it said “if you don't leave now, you'll do so in a moment, either emotionally or physically harmed.” A look like that belonged on an older face, but on Sister Brenda it seemed to fit.
“Yes, young Dorian, I look forward to seeing you in three days. We will speak of this again,” he looked to Sister Brenda, then back to Dorian. He nodded, throwing on his robes, he took his leave from the courtyard.
Sister Brenda let out a long sigh, when Dorian looked at her, she was in an iconic pose of consternation. She had her eyes shut and was pinching the bridge of her nose. She spoke without changing her pose. “Dorian, there is a bit of explaining due, but more importantly,” her eyes snapped open, “what in the name of the lesser Gods was that?! You killed my tree!” She pointed to the dead oak, sundered on one side, leaves already wilting. “Uh, sorry?”
The conversation wasn't long, but the lecture associated with it was. Sister Brenda primarily provided him with information about what was theorized to be the opposite of Gia. Shade, also sometimes referred to as Kraken, which was a nickname given by the second Grand Elder. The Elder's pet name for it was inspired by the mythical sea creature due to its movements when not under direct control. If Gia was the power of life, then Shade was the power of death, in theory. The interplay between the two wasn't exactly such, but comparable enough for the metaphor to work. This was described to Dorian in six different ways, but all effectively meant the same thing. When it had finally sunk into Dorian's thick skull his eyes widened, and he became alarmed. “Wait, Sister, please. Does this mean I'm cursed or something?!”
Sister Brenda chuckled heartily over the statement for a little while. After a moment she held her hand out, visage abruptly intense, a black mass solidified in her palm and extended in a solid shape. Before his eyes a stave was formed, but at the ends they curved out in three prongs, almost like a flower. She twisted it, and it shrunk down until the three prongs rested snugly against her hand. “No, Dorian, you aren't cursed.” She smiled and the black went soft, then disappeared into her hand. Dorian was entranced by the sight. “You do have a fair bit more than I've ever seen, save The Elder himself.” She commented absently. "Most students don't access this side, or the other, until they are eighteen. Even then, summoning and solidifying it is rare. We aren’t even supposed to train the initiates, I only took to instructing you because I knew something was off with your cultivation.” She grew somber then, as though the following words were heavy. “Shade is the basis for which most are allowed to become a Brother or Sister of the Path.”
“As odd as it sounds, Sister Brenda, I've never understood what that meant. Path to where? To what?”
“That isn't something I'd like to comment on as of yet, master Dorian. What I will say is that technically, and I mean technically, you should at this moment take to either ascension or become a brother.” She took a moment to let that settle in, as if Dorian’s brow wasn’t heavy enough. Ascension? Now?
A long moment passed before Sister Brenda stared at him. Unblinking she said, “but that's not what's going to happen.”
Dorian's eyebrows shot up, “so what is going to happen, Sister?”
She took a deep breath and turned her gaze to the valley. “I’ll continue your private tutoring, help you learn to control this, and hopefully, before your eighteenth, we can figure out what’s blocking your Gia and wake it up.” She turned back to Dorian then said, “but before we do any of that, I need to clean this courtyard.”
Dorian gave her a curious look, but the Sister only smiled. She summoned an orb of Gia, the sphere lofted there above her palm when black tendrils swarmed it. Within the sphere the Shade shifted and swirled, but in the center, Dorian could make out a distinctive shape. It looked like a crescent moon, but with the points pointed up rather than to the side. With a snap, force leaped from the sphere shooting out to the dead Oak tree. It began degrading, and rapidly. Within moments the towering oak was nothing more than black dirt. Dorian gaped open mouthed at the display and looked over to see Sister Brenda grinning. Walking up to Dorian she said, “And guess what you get to do for the rest of class today?” He tilted his head as she reached out and closed his hand around something. As he looked to inspect it, he found an acorn. Shit.
For the next two hours Dorian did all he could to begin the restoration of the stunning oak tree. He was able to grow it to a sapling, but little else beyond that. Still, Dorian had a feeling that Sister Brenda would be using the young oak to stretch the reserves of his Gia for the next several weeks, a process that left him more exhausted than any kind of physical activity. It was draining, from what he understood if he drained himself too far, he could become completely insensate. All living things used Gia, and if you drained something of it completely it would die, inevitably. Not right away, but if you drained a thing long enough, apparently you could kill it, a rule which also included oneself. Dorian couldn't manipulate Gia that wasn't his own, not yet at least, so stretching his reserves was always done with caution in mind.
When they finished the private tutoring, they exchanged some general pleasantries, and Sister Brenda stated, in no uncertain terms, that he wasn't to discuss this with anybody. She expressed this to him three or four times, each of which was delivered with the absolution of an angry god. Whether it be fear or respect he couldn't be sure, but he vowed he'd keep the entire ordeal between Brother Michael, Sister Brenda, the Gods and himself.
Glad to be done with the day, Dorian gathered his things and headed back to his rooms, hoping to steal some quiet time for himself. He was tired from stretching his Gia and thought a small nap before dinner sounded like a small piece of the divine. Wary of running into Danny, he took the long way up, taking the easternmost stairwell up three flights, then taking the long corridor down to the dormitory section. Doing this involved a series of short corridors and hallways that inevitably circled back to his room, and if he were spotted by his asinine roomy, Dorian would be able to duck down a hall. The reality of his relationship with Danny was that Danny, among other things, was a bully. Dorian had a tendency to be entirely too nice and often found himself scorned or made fun of for it. It wasn't that he thought himself weak, he just liked to give people the benefit of doubt. When Dorian first met Danny, he figured the guy was just having a bad day. Then he thought it might be a bad week. By the end of the first month, it was clear—Danny was just that kind of person.
It was early one evening, about a month in, when Danny barged into their shared room with a few Brutes in tow. They spent the better part of an hour harassing Dorian before literally throwing him out of his own space. From that point on, anytime Danny had company, he’d order Dorian to leave. If Dorian was busy or trying to sleep, Danny would simply remind him of how many of his friends were Brutes. It was always the same unspoken threat, and Dorian learned to leave willingly rather than risk being forced out.
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Most of the time, he returned to find his belongings in complete disarray—if they hadn’t gone missing altogether. That was why Dorian had started stashing his spare Vega tokens with Jack. Jack might’ve been a bit naïve, sure, but there wasn’t a soul more honest or dependable. Dorian had never explained to him why he needed someone to safeguard his tokens; he feared Jack would take issue with how Danny treated him. And if Jack got involved, there’d be trouble.
It was easier, or perhaps safer, to just endure it. Only one more year, Dorian told himself. One more year, and I’ll have a new roommate.
This, and a few other unpleasant instances, were precisely the reasons why Dorian didn't like Danny. The reasons Danny didn't like Dorian was an honest mystery to Dorian, but he decided to settle on the belief that Danny was a dick because he could be, and some people were just like that. Because of this Dorian did what he could to limit the time he spent in his rooms, but by the grace of Gwendos, he needed a nap.
Finally making it to the adjacent hall, he peeked around the corner noting that the door was shut. He quietly opened it a slant. Lights off and silent, Dorian opened the door. He lightly touched the Giastone switch, and a light kicked on. He smiled at the fact that the light had broken earlier, which is why Danny was so late for class. It was a bit passive aggressive, but the few victories Dorian could win for himself, he had to savor. He went to his wardrobe and retrieved a small device given to each initiate. Basically, it was an hourglass you could attach to the Giastone switch by the door, when the bottom filled enough it would activate the switch thus shutting or turning on the light in your room. He attached it to its place, hit the switch, and stumbled over to his pallet. He was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.
Dorian dreamed, not the heavy serious sort, but the simple sort. He stood at the balcony of the courtyard, arms resting on the ledge as he watched a thunderstorm cutting across the valley. Despite the awesome power of the storm, the gusts and lightning only served as an amusement to him. The storm a reminder of the power of nature, and the power of the Gods. Then the rain came, just as the first raindrop struck his chest, it seemed to radiate pain. Then another, and another, and the thumping continued.
He opened his eyes to see the shadowy silhouettes of three people swinging down at him. He tried to cover himself, but they were coming down with all speed. The thumps and pains that emanated from the impacts were distinctive, and the abrasive pain that made his chest feel like it was collapsing was all too familiar to him. Each of the individuals had put a few bars of soap inside a woolen sock, it was an easy way to beat somebody without leaving too many bruises. This had happened to Dorian before by Danny's goons, of which Danny wholeheartedly denied playing a part. Dorian tried to get up, but as soon as he did, a decidedly feminine hand shoved him back against the wall. Dorian’s head hit the cold stone with a sickening crack, sending the world spinning. Curling into a fetal position, he braced himself as the three laughing initiates swung those brutal sacks at him again and again. He tried to look up, but as soon as he had, a blow landed squarely against his nose which took little time to begin gushing.
They aren't going to stop this time, he thought in alarm. Without much recourse, he decided he had to get out of there. He rolled towards them, picking one, he vaulted himself towards them. He shoved away at the unknown with all his excessive bulk. The other two kept at their pummeling however, so Dorian covered his head as best he could and shouldered the two others in the dark room. He headed towards the door and was nearly there when a new and paralyzing pain shot through his nether regions. A bout of laughter erupted from the three of them as Dorian fell to the floor clutching his valuables.
“You-” he started to say but was cut off, something hard having collided with his skull. Dazed, he tried to understand where it came from but didn't have a clue. He started to edge towards the door when Danny's voice came clear.
“Dorian, my favorite little fatty, I was so hoping to have a chat with you.” Danny’s voice was cheery, as if he was completely satisfied with himself. Dorian's vision was a bit blurry, but his eyes had finally begun to adapt to the dark room. The light from the cracked door was extremely dim, though he could faintly make out where the speaker was. Danny was squatting down, looking down at Dorian, there was something in his hand. The slanted light from the hall behind Dorian cast Danny in an ominous light. “Don't ever speak to me the way you did today or there will be,” whatever was in his hand began floating on its own accord. Shit, Dorian thought, Danny is telekinetic. “Consequences,” and whatever he was holding lashed out. The resounding crack across his temple shook his entire world. Dazed, Dorian curled into himself, trying in vain to shield the parts of his body that hurt the most. The pounding in his ears and the relentless fog of disorientation drowned out the voices around him, reducing them to meaningless noise. A part of him burned with anger, a desperate, smoldering urge to grasp his new power and wield it like a hot poker, consequences be damned. But then, Sister Brenda’s stern gaze flashed in his mind, a silent reminder of the vow he made her. The desire to be reckless abated, the fire inside dimming, slowly replaced with a hollow, aching shame. When he realized he was alone in the room, he was overcome by his emotions. Too disoriented and exhausted, he lay there huddled in on himself. Alone in the dark, cold stone his only companion, Dorian wept.
He let time go for a while. He brewed on his day, chastising himself for believing that things were getting better. Somehow, he managed to convince himself that he was at fault for everything that had happened. If he had just woken Danny, perhaps his day wouldn't have gotten so mucked up. Then, he spent a fair amount of time considering if that was true. Not waking Danny led to him destroying a tree and later getting beat senseless. He wondered whether his victories that morning were worth the defeats he felt now. I wouldn't have gotten so worked up at Danny if he hadn't already got my only friend removed from class, which was also my fault. Then the mess with the Shade wouldn't have happened, I wouldn't have needed a nap, and I wouldn't have gotten ganged up on. I'd be sitting with my friends, laughing instead of lonely.
He thought his thoughts in a circular path, but eventually it was the thought of his friends that got him up. Ken could always cheer him up, and he felt like being alone in this kind of mindset wasn't doing him any favors.
He straightened, cleared his eyes, and moved to hit the switch, realizing only when he got there that his hourglass had been knocked away. He had no idea what time it was, so he hurried as he cleaned himself up as best he could. On the way, he stopped by the privy and used the wash basic to clear the blood off his face. His nose was swollen, and he felt like his eyebrow had been cut. He could taste the blood from a split lip that was likely swollen as well. He gave a long sigh, and left for the dining hall two floors down.
On arrival, there were no lines which meant he was either way too early or way too late. Seeing the doors shut to the enclosed section, the actual serving area next to the kitchen, Dorian peeked through the small window in the door. He was surprised to meet the eye of Clarice, the woman who had served him his lunch. She smiled and opened the door quickly.
“Eager to show off then, are we?” Clarice asked, holding the door open to enter.
Dorian hadn't spoken in a while and had to clear his throat before speaking. “Uh, yes ma'am. Didn't have anything better to do anyhow, most classes haven't finished yet.”
She looked at him, seemingly noticing him for the first time. “Oh dear,” she moved to touch his lip but pulled back. She looked him in the eye for a long searching moment. “Come along.” She waved and started walking. When Dorian didn't follow, she just said “now, Initiate.”
Dorian cast his eye downward and followed her feet. There was a small office of sorts where she gestured for him to sit. “Let’s see you then, chin up.”
Dorian felt like a child, sitting there being examined. Clarice took him by the jaw and made a few affirming noises. “You'll have to excuse me if it’s not perfect.”
A wave of calm washed over Dorian, and for a moment a certain clarity was set upon his sense. He noted the sound of dough being beaten, the smell of the herbs Clarice had handled sometime recently, the callus on her hand from using the obsidian knife. Then he felt all of his recently acquired aches lesson. They didn't disappear, but they didn't ache like they had.
Clarice looked him over, tilting his head back and forth to inspect it. “Quite thorough,” Dorian noted aloud.
“We all had classes here, we know what it can be like.” She held his head straight and put a thumb against his temple. “Trained as a healer, I help when I need to. Now tell me if this hurts.” She pressed her thumb against his temple hard, Dorian couldn't bear it for more than a second or two. “Yes,” he wheezed out.
“Well, it'll do for now. You tell someone if you get headaches for more than two or three days. Now, how are we feeling?” She found her own chair and sat, staring pointedly at him.
“We are feeling much better, thank you.” She nodded him to go on. Dorian let the silence drag a bit, then feeling the need to fill the silence he blurted the first thing that came to mind. “I apologize for my state, I didn't fully inspect myself before I came down. I,” he rubbed the back of his head, “I lost track of time.”
She looked at him for a moment and sighed. “Think you've got gumption to teach us how to bake?”
Dorian looked up, surprised. He inspected himself briefly and realized that he was there, after all. “Why not?” He shrugged.
She smiled, “good.” She ushered him up, “Let me show you where you'll be working.” Businesslike she drew him out of the small office.
Three hours later, Dorian presented a batch of the “Yule Love It” rolls. He had worked up a small sweat near the ovens but had fully committed himself to the task. Despite the condition of the dough he used, he thought it was a success. Clarice smiled broadly after picking up a second roll.
“Well done, I think we have some notes to take.”
After drilling Dorian for step-by-step instructions on the baked goods, Clarice removed her pen and notebook, and thoroughly suggested he find time to come back and show them from scratch, which would require he get up really early. He agreed to think about it before the end of the night and graciously accepted the two tokens she offered. She then offered to pay him that again if he showed up in the morning, which was too rich of an offer to refuse. That was more than a month's pay of working steadily, and despite his recent wealth, he was still too frugal to deny the opportunity.
Taking his prerogative of being a kitchen aid for the day, Dorian was served early and ate a fair portion of cinnamon spiced pork over a sweet potato mash. He took a few apples and an odd citrus fruit to have later. He exchanged some pleasantries and thought about what else he could do to kill time. With nothing coming to mind, he figured he could go to the library. He could catch up with the guys later, it was a rare opportunity to find enough time to privately enjoy the library.
Scant as the library was on well-conditioned books, just as many were frayed and torn at the edges, the breadth of the books was more than vast enough. Unfortunately, most anything recent put on an overt air of piety. Like a film over his eyes when he read, he had to look at the books through the guise of the Sister or Brother writing it, and that piety precludes all other notions. It led to absurd rationalizations in some texts that he just couldn't buy into. A fair portion of the newer texts always contained an entire section of reaffirmations, all of which supported the structure of their society. Explanations as to why it’s taboo to openly discuss your past, or inappropriate to have any preconceptions about somebody's family name. It may have been “inappropriate”, but people still did it all the time, they just didn't get caught doing it.
Still, the library offered more than just books and curiosities. It offered solitude, a rare and precious escape. For Dorian, the tangled maze of forgotten shelves and shadowed corners was a refuge from the world’s noise. Here, in the stillness, he could finally be alone. And for now, that was all he needed.