Asabasha 22, 350 AOR
Rain lightly pattered the canopy of the Twistclaw Trees, keeping Cal and Airetore relatively dry as they silently made their way through the Throle Woods just around midnight. Since leaving the inn, no more than four sentences were shared between the two men, a foreboding sense of necessity and responsibility carrying both their muddied boots forward.
Maybe it was that need to accomplish what they started that caused them to reach where they previously stopped in just three hours. Regardless, it was once they reached the creek surrounded by Livta Fala that Airetore broke the never-ending silence.
“Take the lead.”
Cal understood. He stepped forward, knowing that only he knew where his father’s last stand was. He needed to steel his resolve further. Words were cheap when faced with the actual problem. In this case, the light Cal had lost ages ago.
Unlike last night, the woods were quieter. Aside from the flowing creek, tapping raindrops, and squelching of boots in the mud, there was not a sound. It nerved Cal, especially with the Glowders and Leylehs having seamlessly disappeared, leaving them entirely alone—well, aside from the inquisitive eyes.
It didn’t take long for Cal to start seeing familiar sights. Even if it’d been four years, he could never forget that night and the haunting memories it left him.
It only took twenty minutes for the first memory to be relived as the sight of a half-buried skeleton lay entrapped within the mud and a handful of roots. The silver necklace around its neck told Cal what he already knew.
“Lyka… ” he muttered as he dropped to a knee.
Airetore walked just a dozen feet ahead, where he paused and looked at the ground. Cal’s eyes followed. There he saw another skeleton, this one stationary against an aged oak. It was without both its arms and had a fracture along its sternum.
It was Revoul.
A pained sensation tore through Cal’s heart as he dropped his head, the few recollections he had of them—including their last—vibrant in his mind and soul. As he exhaled roughly, a hand laid on his shoulder.
“We should give them an honorable burial,” Airetore said in a surprisingly soft manner.
Cal nodded, head still lowered, and with Airetore’s use of Earth Magic, they were able to give both boys a proper grave, one that Airetore topped with an assortment of gladiolus’ and lilies. The two stood before the graves, heads bowed and hands clapped together in prayer.
“To Lucius, our guide to the Eternal Light, seek the souls of these young men and welcome them into your benevolent arms, where safety, love, and sovereignty reign,” Airetore chanted before Cal joined him in the final utterance, “Te To Daviihr, Dema Pau.”
The pain he bore was somewhat alleviated, though before he left, Cal pressed a kiss to his clenched fist before lightly thumping their graves. When he stood up, he ignored Airetore’s lingering gaze as they watched Cal with an unreadable expression.
Cal’s voice was hoarse when he spoke. “Let’s move.”
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“I don’t blame you.”
The cold anger in Airetore’s tone was unmistakable as the two men looked down at the Livta Fala beneath them. They’d walked just a few hundred yards when the glow of the wondrous lights drew their attention, only to freeze as their empty gaze took in the two bodies lying atop the bed of Spirit Flowers.
“I would’ve done worse, I think,” he continued.
The desire to be saddened or even disgusted by the sight fell short, paling to the pure hatred that coursed through Cal’s veins; however, as he gazed upon Fana’s corpse, left in the same condition as it was four years ago, he controlled his anger. Even if her body was mangled and bloodied all over while she cradled her nearly born child—its condition no better than Fana’s—the mother never looked more at peace with a mother’s smile and soft embrace
Cal watched silently as Airetore circled Fana and her child, kneeling down and placing his hand on her brow with a voice so gentle that it almost took Cal by surprise. “Amazing… How beautiful we can be, even at our worst.”
Placing his hands on the ground, Airetore repeated the process of giving both mother and daughter a proper burial, making certain not to separate them from the other’s everlasting embrace. When their bodies rested within the hole in the ground, Airetore covered them before glancing at Cal, who nodded and placed his hands together in prayer.
“To The Divine, Your End,” both men said before Cal knelt down, pressed his lips to a closed fist, and thumped the ground softly.
“So long, Fana,” he whispered.
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Following Fana’s burial, his body grew colder with each step into the woods.
They’d buried three, meaning only one was left; to Cal, the most important. The light in his life who taught him everything, a calm soul who never batted an eye at doing the right thing. Even if he raised his voice, became agitated, or even killed another, he never let anyone see his lowest moments for long. Damian Gray was kind, strong, and the embodiment of being human, and Cal couldn’t be any more glad to have been his son.
So as the inquisitive eyes observed him and his trembling body, Cal stood strong, walking further into the woods until his most vivid nightmares came to fruition once they walked into an all too familiar clearing. Cal’s heartbeat grew frantic. He felt as if he could hurl at any moment. But he didn’t, for it’d be a disservice to his father if he buckled now.
Damian Gray needed to be found, as well as the truth that was supposedly uncertain.
“Is this it?” Airetore asked as he stopped beside Cal.
Cal nodded, and Airetore fell silent. Green eyes scanned the area, shaking as they noted the skeletons and corpses within the clearing.
“It’ll be okay,” Airetore said as he placed a reassuring hand on the top of Cal’s head. When Cal looked at Airetore, the professor smirked. “Let’s see what we can find.”
With a curt nod, Cal stepped forward, looking over the corpses and their belongings, searching for anything that could possibly be a clue to the traces of Dark Magic Airetore claimed to be there. Past the equipment, rotten food, and modest amount of coins each corpse possessed, Cal found nothing. However, Cal had counted fifteen corpses, and despite the morbidity, he found a sick satisfaction in the fact that his father had killed them all.
But… that meant…
Cal’s head snapped up, his heart suddenly racing as his motivations changed. With renounced fervor, Cal stood up, scanning the clearing until his eyes landed on a Leyleh looking right at him.
Despite his disbelief of superstitions, Cal approached the Leyleh, which turned around and began rushing through the woods. Cal glanced back at the clearing before following the Leyleh, their path illuminated by Livta Fala. The spark of hope Cal held increased the longer they ran through the woods.
Could his father be alive? Was he lost? What if he needed Cal?
All these thoughts rushed through his mind, coming full circle as the Livta Fala grew more numerous, spreading in almost every direction as the Leyleh finally stopped next to a cave’s opening within a cliff, the entrance a small crack, big enough for someone to squeeze through. Cal’s eyes widened.
It couldn’t be. Was he right?
Rushing forward, Cal nearly tripped over a root as he called out. “Father! Father!”
He reached the entrance, quickly sliding through the crack, though making sure to calm down and slow his breathing as he was thrust into a narrow stone passage, his only light coming from the Livta Fala that continued through the winding corridor. Following the flowers, Cal silently made his way down the natural corridor, breaths heavy in both anxiety and anticipation. His hands ran along the sides of the rocky walls, their touch cool enough to ease his mind just a little as he made the final turn into a small cavern.
It was circular in shape and smaller than the plaza back in town, illuminated by hundreds of Spirit Flowers and a hole in the cavern’s ceiling, its light shining down to the middle of the cavern. When Cal’s eyes followed the light, he froze. Every part of his body ceased as every spark of hope he carried was doused by the cold waters of reality.
Surrounded by the life-preserving flowers of the Erah Isles, Damian Gray lay on his back, his remaining arm over his chest as he held his sword. The deep-green eyes he had given Cal were closed, and the dark brown hair Eri inherited covered his brow. He looked just like he had four years ago… even down to the soft smile he had given Cal before their final farewell.
Cal stumbled forward, willing what little energy he had left to approach his father. He collapsed to his knees then, bunching up the fabric of his pants as he clenched his fists. The desire to cry, to scream, and to laugh all ran through Cal’s body.
But he didn’t.
Instead, Cal grabbed his father’s hand and squeezed it, his voice shaky as he could hardly even catch his breath. “Father… I found you. I—I’m sorry. I couldn’t be with you. I left you to die, b-but I haven’t failed to keep your promise. Mother, Luce, Eri, and the Melds—they’re all fine and well. I’m going to keep protecting them… okay?”
Despite wanting to hear his father’s supportive voice one last time, Cal knew it wouldn’t happen. No matter how much it hurt, Damian Gray was dead.
Cal took a deep, shuddering breath before looking up, his heart somewhat eased as his eyes drifted to the mysterious satchel next to his father. Curious and also confused by the sight of the satchel he’d never seen his father with, Cal grabbed the bag and sifted through it.
A handful of gold and copper coins, a map, and a number of herbs and medicines. Nothing special. However, when Cal dumped the bag of its contents, he found more. Gems of different colors, a few potions, and then a vial full of a black, almost pulsing liquid. Cal grabbed the vial, looking at it closely until something in the corner of his eye caught his attention.
It was an envelope, yet it was empty. The only thing he could make sense of was the purple wax seal that had previously sealed the parchment. Its design was simple with a large bird holding a staff in its claws as its head was downturned as if to pray.
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“What in the—”
“Aldera Academy.”
A strangled yell shot out of Cal’s mouth, causing his heart to thunder as his head whipped around to glare at Airetore, who stood above him with passive eyes.
“What?” Cal inquired impatiently.
Airetore snatched the envelope from Cal’s hand. “This letter—the seal… it can only be found at Aldera Academy.”
“How do you know that? What does it even matter?”
“I know everything.” Airetore then seized the vial in Cal’s other hand. “Do you know what this is?” At the shake of Cal’s head, Airetore crouched in front of Cal. “What is it that I’ve been looking for, brat?”
Cal’s mind stilled before his eyes widened. “Dark Magic?” Cal said breathlessly.
Airetore nodded before looking at Damian. “Which begs the question of why your father had it.”
“What are you saying? You think he’s involved?” Cal questioned in disbelief.
“That’s nonsense,” Airetore stated. “Rather, I think your father understood what this was, leading him to escape here before he finally died… Maybe to hide it from ignorant eyes. However…” Airetore’s voice faded as he looked at the vial more closely.
“What? What is it?” Cal probed.
“Impossible,” Airetore muttered before looking at Cal. “This… This isn’t Dark Magic.”
Confusion ran amok in Cal’s mind. “What do you mean? You just said it was?”
Airetore waved his hands in dismissal, his expression scrunched in annoyance. “No. No. This is Dark Magic, but it’s fake!” He stood up, scratching his head before stomping the floor with his boot. “Fuck!”
Surprised by Airetore’s behavior, Cal stood up. “So what does this mean?”
The professor whipped around, his eyes blazing with both anger and excitement as a deranged smile spread across his face. “It means that this investigation is nothing like I imagined!” He chuckled then, turning around and cackling into his hand before throwing his head back to laugh at the ceiling. “By the gods, this just got interesting, brat!”
Cal, thoroughly confused and understanding that getting a valid answer at the moment would be impossible, crouched down to pick up his father. “I’m glad you found what you needed, Airetore, so I hope you’ll uphold your part of the bargain.”
“Yes. Yes. I’ll assist with the raid.” Airetore waved him off, placing the envelope and vial into his pockets before looking at Cal. “What are you going to do with him?”
Cal looked at his father from where he lay in his arms, the weight his heart carried somehow both heavy with grief and light with a resolution. Then he looked at the professor. “I’m going to give him a proper farewell.”
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Asabasha 23, 350 AOR
Sail away, sail away, the ocean waits for you; raise the anchor, cast the sails, and seek eternal blue.
The waves rolled before him, calm and peaceful despite the rain that graced the ocean, falling on the near-hundred souls who stood on the beach.
Beyond the waves, where sailors rest; beneath her waters, you’re truly blessed.
Cal’s feet shuffled, his sandals sinking into the gray sand beneath him. He exhaled, glancing at his family and Bea behind him, their expressions as somber as they could be given the situation.
Where moons and stars combine; your vessel glides to sands unseen.
His eyes shifted to the raft beside him. Atop it, Damian Gray lay, his eyes closed as flowers surrounded him. A fire burned to Cal’s left, warming his side as he tightened the grip on the bow in his hands.
Journeys cease, your heart’s complete; all is calm, all is green.
Dirah’s somber, deep voice continued to lift over the sound of rain and waves, the sailor song from Sherma causing the eyes of Markstead’s citizens to moisten not from the rain.
Umiko will accept your fear; through the storm, she holds you dear.
Cal tightened the hold on the bow, grabbing an arrow with his free hand and lighting the cloth at the end on fire. Airetore approached, placing a hand on Cal’s shoulder. Glancing at the professor, Cal nodded.
A sailor’s soul, eternally free; through every wave and every sea.
Airetore whipped his hand in a quick motion; in turn, Damian’s vessel began to move away from the shore. Once it was well away, floating across the tranquil water, Cal knocked the arrow and pulled the bowstring.
Sail away, sail away, the ocean waits for you; raise the anchor, cast the sails, and seek eternal blue.
Inhaling deeply, Cal recalled memories of his father. His guidance, his smile, and his perseverance. How he taught Cal to read, to fight, and to live. He wasn’t who he was four years ago, and a lot had changed—enough so that his own father would probably not recognize him if they met again—but Cal had no intention of forgetting his promise to his father…
Gentle swells, your soul will glide; now rest in peace with the endless tide.
Cal released both his breath and the arrow, and as Dirah’s song came to an end—and the tears of his family and the townspeople fell freely—Damian’s vessel caught flame. His soul would be released to the ocean, forever gone. Yet… Cal felt relief despite his stolid expression and the single tear that fell from his eye.
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“To the souls lost, past and present, we shall honor them tonight not in sadness, but in joy, as we ask Lucius to carry them to the heavens, where hardship and suffering cease. We drink tonight, celebrate tonight, not to forget, but to accept the passing of those who are gone. We shall meet them again one day soon, but until then, rejoice tonight, shed your tears tomorrow, and then live forth. Hah!”
“Hoorah!” The citizens in the plaza returned Dirah’s shout as he pushed his glass of ale into the air. They did the same, spurring the celebration to commence as festive music fluttered in the air and the smell of food and beer floated through the town, where paper lanterns hung from building to building.
Despite the drizzle of rain, the celebration roared, though Cal stood away from it, watching from a bench as he sipped at a glass of cider.
“W-What are… What are you doing… b-by yourself, G-Gray.”
Cal glanced out the corner of his eyes, watching as a man as large as Dirah with a bit more of a gut approached him, his blue eyes hazy and auburn hair all sorts of wild. “How are you already drunk, Gordon?”
“I-I’m not drunk!” the drunkard yelled with an accusing finger. “I’ve o-only had… uh, I don’t re-remember h-how many, a-acshually.”
Cal reclined against the bench and sighed. “Whatever you say, Gordon. How can I help you?”
“Can’t—can’t we drink together as o-old friends?” he bemoaned before chugging the rest of his beer.
“We hardly know each other, Gordon. We fight for the militia; we’re acquaintances at best, yeah?” Cal questioned.
“So cold,” Gordon mumbled. “You… You won’t make any friends like that, y-you know?”
“You’re probably too drunk to recall, Gordon, but me, Lucie, and Bea are the only people our age in this town. There aren’t many friends to make—not like I want them anyway,” he muttered the last part.
“You… have a real problem, man,” Gordon groused.
Gaze drifting to the plaza, where Eri danced without direction alongside Bea, Cal set his glass down on the bench and crossed his arms. However, the auburn-haired man grinned and pulled Cal into a half-hearted headlock with his burly arm. “But there ain’t nothin’ wrong with that!” he declared with renounced passion. “We all got problems! But that’s why we’re human—why we’re g-great!” he roared, shouting into Cal’s ear and causing him to wince.
“Now, now, Gordy,” a frail voice announced as its caller approached the both of them. “Don’t scream in the poor boy’s ear. Do you want to take his hearing?”
“Aw, Ms. Lee, it’s just some good-natured fun, you old bat?” Gordon mockingly scowled, releasing Cal as he waved off the gray-headed woman whose slumped form was supported by a cane as large as her.
The old lady used said cane to prod Gordon’s shoulder. “I was your mother’s midwife, you fool. I won’t take disrespect from the babe I brought into this world, ya hear?”
“Y-Yeah, and I bet you brought King Arthur himself into this world too, huh?” Gordon heckled, earning him repeated smacks to the head with Ms. Lee’s cane.
Cal rolled his eyes before glancing to the side of the plaza near the town hall, where Pierce stood with a few other militiamen. The lanky brunette nodded at Cal, who returned the gesture. When Cal looked back, it was to see Mrs. Lee looking at him while Gordon nursed his bruising head.
“You must feel some relief now, yes, dear?” she asked.
That was a safe assumption, but their discovery of the fake Dark Magic, the letter from Aldera Academy, and then his father’s possession of said items, didn’t allow Cal to feel entirely at ease. He figured that would be the case with Airetore’s arrival and the investigation, but with its perplexing conclusion, there was a part of his soul that felt unsatisfied.
“I do,” Cal admitted.
“Good,” Mrs. Lee smiled before motioning him toward her.
Cal leaned toward her, his eyes widening after Mrs. Lee patted his head, brushing her dainty fingers through Cal’s loosened hair. “You’ve been through so much, dear. Be sure to rest and enjoy the peace your heart has found. Can you do that for me?”
He nodded into Mrs. Lee’s touch, his chest feeling almost as light as a feather. When she released him, the old lady grabbed Gordon by the bottom of his shirt and dragged him away from Cal.
“Nice lady.”
Cal jumped in his seat, his arm unconsciously taking defensive measures before he scowled at Airetore, who stood behind the bench and to the left. Once Cal’s heart calmed, he scratched his head and glowered at the professor. “Can you find a better way of announcing yourself?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” he said with a shrug.
Cal pressed his lips together as Airetore walked around and joined Cal, crossing his right leg over his left while sipping at a glass of wine. Emerald eyes fell on the glass, just to look forward a second later.
A surprisingly amiable silence lasted between the two. Cal broke it, however. “Thanks… for today and all.”
Airetore glanced at Cal before taking another sip of his drink. “Of course. I might be an asshole, but I’m not a monster. Life isn’t easy for anyone, so we should do our best to alleviate each other’s pain every so often, don’t you think?”
Slowly, Cal nodded. “I suppose you’re right.”
In the next moment, Airetore shifted as he turned to Cal and placed his free arm on the back of the seat between him and Cal. “Which is why I want you to alleviate some of my pain.”
The rather serious expression caused Cal’s countenance to shrivel. “I’m, uh… not really into that kind of thing… or men. Sorry.”
If there was not an expression capable of being appalled and disgusted with a slight hint of embarrassment, then Airetore would’ve been the first to pull it off as his mouth opened to retort, only to shut before he pointed at Cal. “Y-You! What the hell is wrong with you, brat? I’m not flirting with you, dammit! I just wanted to bring you to Aldera Academy with me, you freak!”
Cal’s hands shot up to defend himself or maybe calm the professor. At the same time, however, Airetore’s words finally processed in Cal’s mind, his hands lowering. “You… want me to go to Aldera?”
Chugging the rest of his wine and slamming it on the bench, Airetore ran his hands over his face. “It’s where I’m headed next. So, yes, I want you to join me.”
“Why?”
“Because though your family and father have found some peace, the investigation isn’t over. Artificial Dark Magic is circulating through Wyze, and it’s somehow connected to Aldera Academy. That goes without saying, there’s a high chance that it has something to do with the factions that have mercilessly ravaged Eastern Wyze, as well as your father’s death.”
“But what does that have to do with me?”
“Might I remind you of your little two-year escapade following Damian Gray’s death? If this reaches the scale I think it does, it’d mean your actions were for naught,” Airetore said before reclining in his seat.
“I’ve not told anyone but my family about those two years. How do you know?” Cal challenged despite the sinking sensation that came with Airetore’s words.
“It’s none of your business.”
“Considering it actually is, you’re wrong. Besides… it’s clear you need my help going forward. So tell me how you know or you’ll be leaving this town by yourself.”
“So you’re going?”
“No. I have my family and home to protect. My father told me to do so, so that’s what I’ll do until their safety is insured.”
“You don’t care to find the truth behind your father’s death?”
The question left Cal without a response, his gaze drifting to the ground before he looked up to see his family smiling and dancing with one another. “There’s one truth I know, and that’s my family’s love. I’m past redemption and saving, so the least I can do, after everything they’ve been through—oftentimes because of me—is to protect them and take on their suffering.”
“And how long until your strength isn’t enough?” Airetore questioned, his tone suddenly blunt. “The militia is nearly depleted and a raid could be here within hours. The only reason you have a fighting chance is because I’m here. If you were to go to Aldera, you’d be strong enough to protect this town by yourself… and we’d find out who truly killed your father.”
“What makes you think I need your help tomorrow?” Cal stated, standing up and turning to Airetore. “You didn’t exist to me forty-eight hours ago, so how do you suppose I dealt with worse circumstances before you? Do you think you’re a savior, Airetore, or perhaps you’re so arrogant that you think only you can solve the world’s problems? The raids exist and Damian Gray is dead. There’s nothing you can do to change either.”
Unconsciously, Cal’s breaths grew heavy as he glared down at the professor; however, Airetore simply stood up, looming over Cal. “And there it is—the pride of the forgotten. We’re cut from the same cloth, brat, and until you see that—see that your ego holds you back—you’ll forever be alone.”
“Speaking from experience?” Cal hissed.
An irritated grin spread across Airetore’s face. “You have some balls, brat, I’ll give you that… Fine,” he said before sitting back on the bench. “Let’s see how long you last with this raid then.”
Cal’s brow furrowed. “What—”
“A raid! It’s a raid!” someone shouted before a deafening explosion rocked the ground and fire soared high into the sky, instantly causing chaos to spread through the plaza as citizens shouted out in fear and scrambled for safety.
Eyes widening, Cal looked from the explosion to his family, and then to Airetore—who sat without a care in the world—before growling and rushing toward the battle to come.