Chapter 3: Shadow of the Radiance

In the land of Aetheria, the passage of time was a captivating spectacle, with a day-night cycle that deviated from what was known on Earth. Aetherians experienced an extended day, equivalent to 50 Earth hours, with a relatively shorter night, lasting just 10 hours. The concept of minutes in Aetheria, known as "lurin," was also different, with one lurin equaling 65 Earth seconds.

The most fascinating aspect of Aetherian time was the unique arrangement of their six suns. These celestial bodies rose in succession, creating a dazzling display of light and color across the sky. The lowest three suns would emerge first, casting their vibrant hues across the landscape. Following this, the highest suns would appear, completing the breathtaking panorama. The morning in Aetheria was divided into six distinct phases, each corresponding to the arrival of a new sun.

True morning, the time when Aetherians typically began their day, was marked by the appearance of the sixth and final sun. Its first rays of light would break through the darkness, bathing the world in a warm, welcoming glow. As the suns took their positions in the sky, the people of Aetheria went about their daily lives, their routines harmoniously aligned with the celestial dance above.

Aurelius awoke with a sense of excitement that he couldn't shake. He had been promised a tour of the castle, and today was the day. As the first rays of light from the sixth and final sun broke through the darkness, Aurelius sprang up from his bed and called out to his attendants.

Outside his window, the sky gradually filled with light and color, the suns rising in succession to create a dazzling display of beauty and power. The scene was like nothing Aurelius had ever seen before, and it filled him with a sense of awe and wonder.

Cassius, the First Prince of Thalassa, was a prodigy unlike any other in the thousand-year history of Aetheria. His innate mastery over rucain and deep understanding of the natural laws and magic propelled him to the esteemed position of the world's highest-ranking Arch mage.

Magical prowess in Aetheria was measured in circles, each consisting of nine sub-circles known as orbits. The Deificheir, considered the governors of magic, boasted the highest magical prowess in Aetheria. Their most powerful mage reached the impressive 7th orbit of the 6th circle. However, no one had ever managed to cross the barrier of the 6th circle.

Cassius defied all expectations and broke through this limit, reaching the extraordinary 2nd orbit of the 8th circle. Legends and whispers spread across the land, claiming that the First Prince had transcended the laws themselves and become a living embodiment of magic.

While it was true that Cassius was no longer bound by the conventional laws of nature, the claim that he had become a law in his own right was an exaggeration. The prodigious prince was still three orbits short of achieving that unprecedented feat. Nevertheless, his extraordinary abilities and power inspired both awe and admiration from the people of Aetheria.

Aurelius' excited for his venture found his brother waiting outside his door.

"What's up sleeping beauty," he said funkily.

To which Aurelius' gave a sarcastic laugh.

However, an ancient decree dictated that a prince or princess could not leave the imperial palace before their Investiture – a solemn ceremony held after their debutante ball. During this hallowed rite, the young royals were officially recognized as princes or princesses and bestowed with a prestigious title and responsibilities befitting their station.

The Investiture ceremony was of paramount importance, for it granted the prince's or princess's body a sacred protection against the wild and untamed rucain that swirled throughout the world. Newly metamorphosed royals, with their delicate and untrained flexes, were susceptible to the ravages of the murky rucain. Exposure to these volatile energies could lead to debilitating afflictions and agonizing pain that ultimately resulted in death.

As they entered the dining hall, Prince Aurelius greeted his parents with a cheerful chime.

"Mother! Father!" The warm smiles of the emperor and empress enveloped him like a soft embrace.

"Are you feeling better, my son?" the emperor inquired with concern.

"Yes," replied Aurelius, "but I want to venture outside."

"My dear," the empress cautioned, her tone laced with understanding, "your newly metamorphosed body is extremely sensitive. Even the slightest mana turbulence could wreak havoc and cripple you for life."

"But the Investiture is two years away! What am I to do until then?" Aurelius whined.

"We could hire a tutor," the emperor suggested, only to be met with the empress's resolute refusal.

"I do not trust anyone with our son's well-being, especially with that scheming stepmother of mine lurking in the shadows." The empress pondered for a moment, then her face brightened. "Aurelius loves to read, so why not grant him access to the Pleroma Codex?"

The emperor paled at the suggestion. "Preposterous! The Pleroma Codex is far too dangerous for a youngling like Aurelius! And the Luminary...even I cannot guarantee that he'll allow his entry."

Realizing his mistake, the emperor's face contorted in frustration. A silent exchange between the arch mage and the emperor conveyed the gravity of the situation. The Luminary, the Keeper of Eternal Secrets, was bound to be drawn by the emperor's unwitting invocation.

As if on cue, the room filled with the musty scent of ancient tomes, and a portal materialized before them, adorned with cryptic inscriptions. The gate creaked open to reveal a majestic figure—the Luminary himself. Tall and slender, with long, flowing hair that radiated an ethereal light, his pale skin seemed to shimmer. His deep blue eyes exuded a calming energy, and his robes, adorned with intricate symbols, pulsated with power. A crystalline staff in hand, the Luminary's every step left a trail of sparkling light.

The royal family bowed before him, and as it was the Luminary whose legend was entwined with the birth of the universe itself, a time when the first light shattered the darkness, forever altering the fabric of existence. His vast history spanned the cosmos, his name etched in constellations that burned bright across the heavens. The Luminary's wisdom and guidance were so coveted that his name was spoken only in hushed whispers, as though invoking it too loudly might summon his divine presence.

Through eons of peace and prosperity, the Luminary's radiance illuminated the path forward. In times of war and chaos, his ethereal light guided civilizations, leading them through the tempests of strife. His existence transcended the boundaries of mortal comprehension, placing him beyond the realm of gods and immortals. He who stood on the precipice of eternity, the Luminary's greatness could scarcely be fathomed.

The mere presence of the Luminary commanded reverence and awe, for he embodied the very essence of the universe, embodying its infinite wisdom, its boundless mysteries, and its eternal cycle of creation and destruction. He was the living embodiment of the cosmos, an ageless entity that defied time and space, and in his eternal gaze, the fate of countless worlds rested.

Aurelius could sense the otherworldly being's presence. In the blink of an eye, the Luminary stood before him.

"We are those who came before and those who will come after," the Luminary declared, addressing the emperor's unspoken question.

"Then you wish for Aurelius to be your successor?" the emperor cautiously asked.

"It is not a matter of wishes, but of decisions already made," the Luminary replied cryptically.

"Two paths, infinite fates, choose wisely. Furthered Luminary

Before the empress could object, Aurelius inquired about the Pleroma Codex. As he did so, an ancient book materialized and seemingly entered his mind, filling him with awe and wonder at the knowledge it contained. His insatiable curiosity overcame his fear, and he boldly declared his desire to accompany the Luminary.

The emperor reluctantly consented, and as heartfelt farewells were exchanged, the Luminary and Aurelius vanished through the portal, which closed behind them.

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"You remember that kid, Father?" asked Cassius.

"Set it up," replied Emperor. "The Imperial House already has too much power. If this news leaks out, we can expect the neutral factions' betrayal."

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The 9th continent stood divided, governed by a federation that held power over the rich lands in its heart. However, corruption of rucain plagued the periphery, giving rise to sprawling slums where the federation's influence waned. These neglected corners existed beyond the reach of emissaries and legal houses, rendering their rulings futile. Like scattered ashes, their authority was blown away. The outcasts of society, condemned to lives of misery and destitution, found solace in the meager contentment they could muster. The Senate regarded the slums as an enduring thorn, yet all attempts to bring change were in vain. The residents resisted cooperation, and the military deemed the slums indispensable as the first line of defense.

In the pitch-black embrace of night, within a chamber ablaze with a brilliance that could eclipse the sun, a man of seasoned years stood resolute. His silvery hair shimmered in the radiant glow, casting an ethereal aura upon his figure. Before him loomed a shadowy presence, a mysterious being devoid of any trace of its own shadow, even amidst the intense illumination.

"General-Minister," whispered the enigmatic figure, its voice laden with an otherworldly weight. "You must be aware of the weight of the words you just said?"

A surge of fury consumed the General-Minister, his voice thundering through the chamber, "Betray the federation? Is that what you ask of me?

With a commanding gesture, the shadowy figure conjured a card from the depths of darkness, a card so black that it appeared to absorb all light around it. Etched upon its surface was an intricate depiction of eight wings, their forms incomplete, while cryptic words scrawled below hinted at an unfinished pact.

The General-Minister's gaze fixated upon the card, his eyes welling with tears, a tremor coursing through his being. He slumped into his chair, gripped by an overwhelming despair as he comprehended the damning significance of the artifact before him.

"I believe you know what this is," intoned the figure, its voice a chilling whisper that echoed through the chamber. "You naelthirnir"

As heard it a haunting flashback unfurled within the mind of the General-Minister, vivid memories from the days he thought were buried deep in the recesses of his past, from which he moved on.

There stood a boy with silvery hair, no more than 10 years old. Before him was an unforgiving battlefield. The flora and fauna had been corrupted by rucain, necessitating their subjugation. These flora and fauna were considered the most useless resources, so worthless that no one was willing to collect them except for the lowest of the low at the bottom of all Aetheria. In the local federation language, there was a special word for them: "naelthirnir" (naelthirnir), which loosely translated to "those who eat the excretions of beetles."

The young boy stood amidst a heartbreaking scene, surrounded by a towering pile of lifeless bodies. Tears streamed down his face, his sadness overwhelming. His face showed signs of hunger, as he hadn't eaten anything for days. The terrible smell of decaying plants and animals made it hard for him to stay on his feet. With unsteady steps, he approached the body of an Lronishx creature, and then moved to another one until he stood right in front of it. Tears continued to flow as he followed the example of others and took a bite, his sorrow and desperation etched in every tear.

Every 30 days, the twisted plants and creatures known as Orthals (pronounced Orthal) were brought under control. On that day, the boy would receive a single meal. But Orthals couldn't be saved for later, and even the naelthirnirs living in the slums weren't permitted to keep them. The boy lived — nay he existed in a harsh realm, where the unforgiving moons and scorching suns showed no mercy. It was not a life he lived, but a mere existence, as if he were an inanimate object rather than a living being. Time slipped away unnoticed, for there was no counting of days in this desolate place. Lost in an endless cycle of deprivation, he gradually lost himself. The essence of who he once was faded with each passing moment, leaving behind a hollow shell. In this barren wasteland, he became a forgotten soul, adrift and longing for the vibrant pulse of life that had slipped through his grasp. For how long he lost count…..things do not count their days.

One day, while the boy was being, he committed something unforgivable. He accidentally bumped into an emissary of the federation. It was a simple accident, not a deliberate wrong. However, he a naelthirnir, justice was swiftly meted out without any semblance of fairness. There was no impartial judge or jury to weigh the circumstances, but a verdict was instantaneously passed: a merciless slash.

Aetherians never truly die unless all three of their energy cores are destroyed, but it doesn't mean they don't experience the pain of being slashed. While higher members of society can photonize themselves, a naelthirnir has no means of learning such an advanced technique.

There he lay between dead Orthals, forgotten by all, and he felt detached from everyone.

"Why?" the boy thought.

"I never desired more,

We never asked for more,

Why, why, why, why, why, why, why?"

Tears streamed down his face as the last shreds of his sanity faded away, making him appear more like an inanimate object than a living being. The hope in his eyes was extinguished.

"Why did they have to kill my family?

We never betrayed them,

It was a scheme."

Random thoughts from the past flooded his mind, and as the sun gradually descended, so did the boy descend into madness. The scene was filled with his disturbing laughter followed by cries, indistinguishable from that of an Aetherian or an Orthal.

"Give me a chance,

Someone,

I'll be anything,

I'll do any job,

--Help."

The boy's cries and thoughts became jumbled. As he reached the end of his rope, something appeared before him. Everything fell silent and still. His desperate pleas were no longer audible, even though he continued to make them. There, he saw 8 wings fluttering.

Summoning whatever he had left, the boy managed to say, "Help nnn" But only one word came out.

The unaffected entity responded, "Favornnnnnn Getnnnnn nnn Pricennnnn nnnn Do nnnnnnnnn nnnnn nnnn anything nnnn nnnnnnnnnn nnnn Favor nnnnn nnnn. Return nnnnnnnn nnnnnnnnn nnn nnnnn Bindnnn nnnnn Contractnnnnnnnn nnnnnnnnn End of time —"

"Yes... Yes... Yes... Yes..." The boy descended into madness, shouting his agreement as if any delay would cause him to lose this opportunity.

Heup~

Heup~

The sound was akin to someone lifting weights. The boy felt as though his body had no pain from being slashed, and all remnants of the difficulties he had faced for forsaken years vanished as if they never existed.

Fearful, he dared not open his eyes.

"It must be a dream," he said. "A dream."

He laughed and laughed like a madman. Finally, mustering up the courage, he slowly opened his eyes and saw his room, his home. It was as it was before their family was charged with treason, which led to the loss of 10,000 soldiers' lives and an incalculable amount of wealth going down the drain. Of course, the boy's father, Freay vel voic, and the Vel Voic family were innocent, or so it seemed.

The boy sprang up from the bed, and then he heard a tap. Something had fallen at his feet. It was a pitch-black card, so dark that it made the illumination of the suns fade. On it, there was an incomplete figure of eight wings, and something was written: "Ani." Aniris Vel Voic—it was the boy's name, but it remained incomplete, much like the figure of the eight wings.

But the wings he had seen that day were not incomplete.

Why were they broken?

This question remained unanswered for years to come until the moment came when he appeared before him.

Holding a card darker than the darkest, with an incomplete figure of wings, below which read "ris."

This was it.

It had arrived.

The moment was there.

A price had to be paid,

Or else...

Or else...

Or else...

Or else...

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