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2024-10-29 19:42:56Linden stood in front of the mirror. A "servant boy" named Tim draped a green cloak with a symbol of golden wings over his shoulder. His coal-black hair complemented his pale complexion. He had deep red eyes and sharp jaws. Lindon wore a green and gold coat and pants of a similar color. A golden wing-shaped broach was strapped to his chest. Again, he wore a brownish-gold belt with a wings-shaped buckle. A sword hung on his hips, and a knife was strapped to the back of the belt. All in all—Lindon hated it.
The clothes were ostentatious and taxing to the eyes. Whoever designed the formal attire for the Aether tribe must have done it during a fit of madness. He wished he could go back in time and murder the person.His hatred for the ceremonial clothes aside, he was ready for the ceremony. He could barely make himself stop fidgeting."Is there anything else you need, young master?" Tim said. Everyone may think that Tim was nothing more than just a servant, but he had a bigger role to play.Linden waved his hand to Tim. Tim bowed once and retreated to the corner of the room.Lindon sat on the table, sideways. Bloody cloak! It was so uncomfortable. He couldn't even sit right with the thing hanging on his back. Detestable!The bonding ceremony would begin at midnight—he would turn fifteen—thus, the bonding ceremony. A vampire without the spirit bond couldn't go far on their cultivation journey.It was one hour from midnight. His honor guard and escort should be here any minute now. He had to wait for almost twenty minutes, which felt like an eternity to Lindon.He heard a knock on the door. Lindon gestured for Tim to open it for him. A guard entered the room with a bow."It is time, young master," he said.Lindon nodded and stood up with some difficulty. These clothes were really uncomfortable. "Let us go then."Lindon stepped out into the dark hallway. Twenty guards were waiting for him. He followed the guards, who flanked him from all sides. Nobody spoke, not even Tim, who was walking beside him. He found it frustrating.They had to walk down the flights of stairs most of the time. There was one thing Lindon found strange. The guards would sometimes increase their pace—sometimes decrease it. Curious.They arrived outside the ceremony room precisely at midnight. Only then did Lindon understand the pacing of the guards. The guards announced him and they ushered him into the room before he could even steady his nerves. Lindon snarled and cursed in his heart. Outside, he was as calm as the winter breeze.There were seven men of women in the room, including his father. All of them were wearing similar clothes to his own. It didn't look good. Lindon sneered in his heart. No one in the room looked older than early 30s, however, he knew they were older than at least a hundred.His father, Iroh, who looked an older version of himself, was over three hundred years old. The oldest man in the room was the sage of the hidden transformation, the only man in the tribe who had managed to break through to Sage Realm. The sage was about seven hundred years old.The only sage in their tribe didn't even know how he had advanced to that realm. He didn't even know to cultivate further, the core of the beasts in the same realm didn't work.The Bankers probably had Sages in their ranks. Lindon refused to believe that they didn't. How else could they have become the controlling power in the world? The bankers probably knew the secrets of advancing to the Sage realm.They directed Lindon to the center of a circular stone slab which was etched with rune scripts. Lindon didn't understand them. Well, Lindon wasn't a Scriptor, so he couldn't draw the runes of power, anyway. The only thing he knew about them was that there were battle and formation runes."Who stands at the eye of the bonding circle?" The sage of the hidden transformation intoned, pulling Lindon out of his thoughts. All the people in the bonding hall surrounded him in a circle just outside the stone slab."I, Lindon li'Morgan, son of Iroh li'Morgan—sect master of Aether Sect. Son of Freya li'Morgan—Matriarch of Aether tribe, stands at the eye of the bonding circle.""For what purpose do you stand in our holy circle?""I stand here to summon the spirit I am most worthy of—spirit that is most worthy of me, to form a bond for our mutual growth."Lindon said everything word-from-word, as they had taught him for this ceremony."And are you worthy of this bond?""We shall become worthy of our bond as we grow together. As it ever was—as it ever shall be.""Then bathe the rune of summons with your blood," the sage intoned for one last time.Lindon's father stepped forward, carrying a golden knife above both his palms. He took the knife in a graceful motion. His father mouthed, 'Happy Birthday, son,' as he stepped back to his former position.Lindon gave his father a nearly unperceivable nod, showing no expression on his face. The bonding ceremony was the most sacred ritual of the vampires. Showing any emotion before he summoned the spirit was blasphemy.There were two runes at the eye of the circle. The summoning rune and the blood rune—he had memorized these two runes before the ceremony.Greeting his teeth, Lindon slit his left palm with his knife and poured the blood over the summoning runes. Once he was done, he extended his spiritual sense to the blood runes and connected his blood core with them. That connection activated the summoning formation, and all the runes within it glowed red.He broke the connection with the rune as soon as his blood over the summoning runes vaporized and disappeared without any trace. Lindon took two steps back. Lindon waited.One minute passed. Nothing Happened!...Three minutes passed. Nothing Happened!'Come on,' Lindon thought. This can't be happening to him. He was the son of the two most powerful people in the tribe.Five minutes passed. Nothing Happened!He gulped. 'Please!' Lindon pleaded in his heart. Sweat beaded on his forehead. If no spirit accepted him, he would have to live a life filled with ridicule and scorn. He wouldn't be allowed to become a warrior.Ten minutes passed. Nothing Happened!His life was over. 'So not a single spirit found me worthy. How will I ever call myself the son of—'The air in front of him cracked. Lindon felt a sudden jolt of relief that he almost laughed out loud. He held his tears back with difficulty. He had never been so scared in his life before. Not even a year ago, when he was almost assassinated. Twice!
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The crack in the air spread like a hammered mirror. The crack bulged towards Lindon. A pair of small, glowing white hands emerged from the bulging crack. The two hands tore the very fabric of reality apart. An oval-shaped hole hung in the air that led to eternal darkness. A translucent white female spirit stepped out of the hole in reality. The spirit was no bigger than Lindon's palm, but she had a human figure even though she mildly glowed with white light. Lindon let out a breath he had been holding for who knows how long. He couldn't help but tremble. A spirit had accepted his summons even though it took its blue moon. 'Thank the heavens.' The spirit wore something like a shirt and skirt, made from, it seemed—her own essence. His spirit was beautiful, even if she was slow. Why did she have to wait so long before accepting his summons? Lindon felt a tinge of anger brewing within him. He didn't want to be petulant, but he couldn't help it. He had been so scared for a minute there.
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Jimmy listened to the elder, who taught them the properties of various metals. “This is Firesteel, this is Watersteel, this is Bloodsteel…” The elder got out seven metals and introduced them to the class. These were the best conductor of said Law and amplified their effect. The elder produced another seven metals and explained about each of them; Firebane, Spiritbane and Earthbane and so on. These were poor conductors of corresponding Laws—almost an insulator. These metals either diminished or nullified the effect of the corresponding Law. Jimmy learned much in his Blacksmith class. The identities of unique metals, their source, their properties—and how and what to forge with them. How to make an object of power? It was a simple process, impossible as it was to believe. First, forge a required item, take a beast core, and after that reach out with spiritual sense to the item through the core and push the power of the core to the item—the spiritual sense was the medium to such tran
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Only when Chris was well away from Linden and the arena did the consequences of what she had done dawn on her. What was she thinking dunking him in the water? If Linden had taken what she had done as offence and not as a joke, she would be howling in pain for who knew how long. Perhaps forever. She must have been mad. Why did she always let the anger get the best of her? She had to learn to control it better. ‘What’s done is done,’ she told herself firmly. ‘There is no point in fretting over it.’ Aside from her horrible mistake with Linden that could have ended up with her head on a pike, her days went smoothly—with only one sour note. It was, of course, Rina. Chris asked herself a thousandth time why she was sharing a room with her. The woman had no decency at all. None. Two nights a week, sometimes three nights, the woman brought a man to spend the night with. The partners she brought were sometimes young, sometimes old. The woman changed her partners like men changed their cloth
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Icy Water (Chris-Linden)
Linden stopped laughing, gave her a lopsided glance, and struck. Chris brought her sword before it to intercept the attack. At the last second, Linden twisted his sword, and it landed on her wrist. She almost lost her grip on her sword. Still, she powered through the pain and kept her hold of it. Chris was just glad she hadn’t yelped in pain and had just winced. That would be beyond embarrassing. They exchanged dozens of blows, and with each blow, her anger spiked up a notch. Linden had thwacked her left and right—blows that would bruise. Yet, for the life of her, she couldn’t land a single hit. It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t. Why should she be bruised and in pain, while the other man was grinning like a fool? She knew he wasn’t using vital technique or any form of Drogen. That would have left behind a residue that she would have undoubtedly seen, being a collector as she was. So, what was it he was doing? There had to be something. He can’t really see the future, can he? No, that w
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Funny Shadows (Chris)
Chris watched as the heir strode towards them. The bare-chested man walked like any heir should, back straight, one hand resting on his sword hilt as if he were assuming a sword stance. He could have made any girl’s neck turn in his direction and made their heart flutter. Not hers. Her heart fluttered for someone else. Someone next to her, no less regal than the heir himself, standing there, hand poised on his sword hilt, ready to draw at a moment’s notice. The man she suspected to be Linden’s bodyguard. Tim, was it? He could do with an earful. Holding a sword at her throat like that. When her eyes shifted back to the bodyguard, her mouth went dry. Sweat glistened along his abs. She gulped. Her knees wanted to buckle. She wanted… ‘Heavens above, what am I thinking?’ She wanted to get into good graces with the heir. Not canoodle with his bodyguard. She wouldn’t mind doing it, though. It could be warming. Gods, she had always prided herself on having great control over her thoughts.
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Canvas and the Sword (Chris)
[PRESENT TIME] Chris Scoured through the sect library searching for information on collectors. She had hoped to find some record to understand her powers. Useless, there was nothing she didn’t already know. All that knowledge in here and they were all deadwood to her. Unless she broke into the restricted section of the library, there was nothing new she could learn. That meant she would have to learn everything by experiment. The thought of experimenting with her powers sent a shiver down her spine. Playing with something she didn’t understand didn’t sound healthy to her. All her classes went well, better than well actually. She was one of the best in her class—aside from a few mishaps like that one time when she had turned into a giant; it was one of the most embarrassing things that had ever happened to her. What surprised her most as she navigated through her powers was the fact that her abilities were incredibly similar to that of a Dweller and, at the same time, quite differen
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Chapter : Her Past (Part 2)
Chris stood next to her brother as she watched him paint on a massive canvas. The strange amalgamation of colours slowly began to gain cohesion and shape. Slowly, the paintings began to gain more shapes and details. She saw villagers washing clothes in the rivers. Children playing near them. Why couldn’t her life be so peaceful as well? Why couldn’t she be as happy as that? Children playing in the river. This was the first time her brother’s paintings had made her feel more pain than soothing her.However, she did not blame her brother for her mood. She knew something like this could happen. She had been lucky that it hadn’t happened before. And her brother had never drawn a painting with people before.When her brother finished his art. She asked him a question. “What will you call this painting, brother? I always like it when you name your paintings. It is the most enjoyable part of all this.”“I will call this one A Vain Dream.”“Why do you want to name something so beautiful? Somet
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Her Past
Five Years Ago. It had been about five years since her mother died. Killed was more accurate. A band of people made from Dwellers and Vampires had killed her mother. And even after five years, Chris still wept herself to sleep. She had abandoned her in her time of need. They punished the murderers of her mother for their actions. They were flogged and tortured publicly before being killed. And yet Chris still could not feel at peace for the death of her mother—like everyone told her to do. Even though they had already received their punishment. Even though they were already dead, she still hated them for taking her mother away from her. How could they do such a thing? How could they have no regard for human life? That question always haunted her. Their death wasn’t enough. Someone else deserved punishment—it was her.A part of Chris wanted to forget about her mother. So that she did not have to hurt, so that she did not have to cry so much, so that her father would not have changed
