The faint scratching sound of Sebastian's pen cut through the stillness of his cramped room.
Books lay in uneven stacks on his desk, their corners creased from years of late-night study and herbs, oil bottles etc scattered and placed around as always.
A single lamp lickered, its light dancing across the dark leather of The "Foundations of Esoterica", its pages brittle and stained with ink older than the yellowed paper itself.
His notebook by contrast was crisped brown, its pages gloomy white with hurried words. He wrote as if someone in future can read it without having confusion with every lines perfectly intact like it might just slip away if not pinned down soon.
He pictured a stranger finding his notes years from now—someone who'd need plain words to make sense of the book's cryptic and strange words. His hand moved quickly, distilling the dense text into fragments he could grasp. Though it wasn't completely understood by him he still wrote.
"Concepts"
The primal forces of nature or the entire universe, probably created by someone beyond comprehension. Time, Space, Fate etc—things like these of which each was alive. It was not just an idea but a powerful force shaping the world. A merchant's knack for trade, a mother's instinct for her child—they carried faint signs of these forces, unnoticed by most.
"Awakening"—meant a phenomenon of finding or starting something like an "Organ" which in common sense looked like a core that already existed within a living being's body but not in a working state and a spark tying them to their "Concept" births a "Verse", their personal well of power.
A "Verse" was a kind of inner book, unique to each who holds a power of "Concept", holding their power's shape. Each "Verse" unfolded in numbered stages called "Perspectives" though the book gave little more than hints—ordeals, steps, trials of some kind.
"The Celestial Realm" is a hidden place or a personal pocket dimension tied to the Core, described as a vault of knowledge or a place library which holds all the "Information and knowledge" about you- even your "concept" and "verse". It unfolds like a part of the soul, vast and half understood."
…Those rare few who awakened that "Organ" and their "Concept", those who have their "Verse" sparked by chance, insight or raw emotion, those who control the world and universe being a part of itself, those who hold the immense power and are connected to the Creator of this vast universe- are called "Ascendants".
And all these mysterious and logic bending things are part of the particular study called "Esoterica".
"Esoterica… this word probably relates to Esoteric religions…" Sebastian's pen faltered. He was having minor goosebumps. His breath was caught and he was hallucinating. The room's walls seeming to press closer and all of the things around him was flying.
Thud
He stroke his head to the wall and the hallucination was over.
The ideas which he got from this book felt too precise and too eerily aligned with the Vorthain scrolls he'd pored over in his first year- to be mere myth. His candle sputtered, wax pooling on the desk. He rubbed his red eyes, the weight of it all settling into his bones. With a slow, deliberate hand, he wrote one last line:
"If this is true, everything I know is just a shadow of something vaster."
But all these terms seems kind of like a joke or a bunch of ideas made by some overthinking kid…atleast that's what most people reading this would think but not me… things like concept, verse, awakening are strange terms but the mention of "Esoterica" directly connects to the 16 churches so there's a good chance that this book is genuine, though I'm not completely sure. Besides I have experienced "that incident" before which was just as strange as these words…I think I have to study it more and investigate things after I'm done with my graduation…Sebastian made up his mind.
He closed the crisp brown notebook and decided to give it some thought in detail to process it completely.
Outside, the sound of chirping bird was a little pleasing. The city hummed faintly. The carriage wheels on cobblestones, distant voices. The world felt smaller and stranger now, as if it might change or crack under the weight of what he'd just read.
…
Hawthorn Avenue, Norham. Tuesday of March 8th.
"Young master, it's nearly 9" she called, her voice gentle but edged with reproach.
Reinhardt woke to Lucy's soft knock, the sound pulling him from a dream of endless pages and half-formed words.
"But I didn't even sleep for an hour" He groaned, rolling out from the desk where he fell asleep. His eyes catching the open yellowed copy of the "Foundations of Esoterica" on his desk.
Thud!
"Ouch" The moment he stood up- his left toe hit the bottom part of the wooden desk.
Lucy quickly opened the door at the sound. And with just one glance she judged the entire scene.
"As expected of young master Reinhardt—you fell asleep at the desk again, sitting in that chair with your books. And this time, you even hit your toe on it."
"Right but how did you know?",Reinhardt questioned while touching his toe in pain.
Lucy put some kind of paste on his toe to lessen the pain. "I'm your maid after all", she said in proud tone.
"Right!" Reinhardt exclaimed.
"I'm waiting outside, young master"Lucy got out of the room telling him to get tidy up himself.
Reinhardt stayed in the room, his eyes pointing at the dark green covered book.
He remembered the few words he deciphered last night. He was not some intelligent scholar but he still did managed to figure out some.
Its ideas clung to him—Concepts, Cores, Verse, Perspective, Trials, Churches.
Unlike Sebastian he didn't take this even a bit lightly as he had heard a few related terms in the cathedral.
They stirred something restless in him like a bad feeling he couldn't name. He thought of his father, the High Priest of the Church of the Two-Faced God with his mirrored altars and solemn rites.
Does he know these things? Is he aware of these being connected to the churches? He might know something or the entire thing but is just not telling me for some unknown reasons. This could even be related to my mother's death…the thoughts left Reinhardt uneasy. His father's stern face flashing in his mind.
Asking him would yield only polished platitudes, not answers.
"Sebastian," he muttered, tugging on his boots. "You'll see through all these strange and mysteries better than anyone, you are a scholar after all."
Lucy waited outside of the room. Her apron slightly crooked as her hands already reaching to smooth his collar. "You are already late for breakfast and you'll be late for your etiquette class as well" she said, her tone half-scolding, half-fond.
He let her fuss and lashing a lopsided smile but his mind was elsewhere.
Remembering the book's ideas were making him uncomfortable restless. A quiet mystery beneath the routine of sword practice, family dinners, church studies and empty chatter with nobles. He moved through his day like half awake man with the spark of curiosity burning brighter with every step.
…
Time slipped forward, and soon it was
Thursday, March 10th.
Stemford borough, Cindrallis.
Sebastian stood in the courtyard of Crown University of Cindrallis, his black graduation robe heavy against the summer breeze.
The stone buildings loomed around him, their tall arches carved with faded crests of forgotten kings. Ivy crawled across the gray walls and iron lampposts lined the paths. Their glass bulbs faintly faltering even in daytime with the newest spark-light technology as the sound of distant train horns from the station of Central Square could be heard.
Founded nearly three centuries ago by the royal decree, this university was known as the heart of learning in the Ivansia kingdom. Where nobles sent their heirs to polish themselves with knowledge and machinery where a rare few from common births like Sebastian clawed their way in through merit.
Though Sebastian's case different because he got a chance here because of his own genius and his father's position as a Archbishop in the Church of Dreaming Goddess.
Scholars discovered that within its sealed archives lay books older than the kingdom itself.
The morning sun glinted off the cobblestones on the road and the air carried the faint sweetness of blooming jasmine. Laughter rang out as students called to friends and their families clustered along the courtyard's edges, their faces bright with pride.
Sebastian's hands trembled—not from the nervousness but because of the secret knowledge he acquired. He was still thinking over it.
His family stood among the crowd. His father, rigid in the Archbishop's black suit with a robe type extension. His gaze sharp but distant and his mother, her smile soft and warm; his younger sister, waving wildly until Sebastian bit back a grin.
When his name was called he stepped forward with the scroll and the certificate in his hands.
The crowd's applause washed over him steady and warm.
The speeches followed. Some dragged, others crackled with nervous energy. When Sebastian took the podium, his voice was steady but quiet, carrying a weight that silenced the crowd's murmur.
"We leave here with wisdom, but it's our questions that will shape us. May we never stop asking. "
The applause swelled, louder now. His father's nod was slight, but it felt like a crack in his usual stoicism. A fairly rare acknowledgment.
Later, there were also photographs sessions where people with stiff poses in crammed together. Their laughter and joy was caught in frozen in the black and white photos.
The day felt both fleeting and heavy. A milestone shadowed by the book's secrets whispering in Sebastian's mind.
Soon the day turned dark as the sun goes down and the moon comes up .
That night back in his room upstairs he set his diploma on the desk. Beside it lay The "Foundations of Esoterica" and a deck of tarot cards which he bought for fun.