"What the hell do you mean he's missing?" Asked Lawrence, rubbing the back of his neck. He could feel the pounding sensation of a headache coming. They had become a frequent occurrence ever since his arrival in this backwater village.
"I haven't seen him since yesterday." Replied Caleb, watching his superior pacing.
"Did you look in all the brothels in the village?"
"There are no brothels in this godforsaken village." He replied, with a hint of frustration in his voice. "I've searched the whole village. No one has seen him since last night. The watchman at the gate said he saw him leave at midnight but never saw him return."
Lawrence billowed a heavy sigh, massaging his temples, he placed the parchment in his hand down. "Search the town again, just to be sure. It seems we might have to stay in this god-forsaken village for another month."
"Another month?" Caleb face scrunched, "What about our academics? I only took this mission as a favor to professor Lupin. It was supposed to be a two-week mission at most."
"And now it isn't," Lawrence said. "And it seems it is not just professor Lupin who is interested. In a few days, an armed battalion from the empire of Ignus will be arriving."
Caleb did not look pleased. "Who's the commander?"
Lawrence shrugged, organizing the papers on his desk. "Who knows with them. Come on, lets look for Willard."
And for hours, they looked, from dawn to the hours of twilight.
Thy found him on the morrow, hanging, his eyes, tongue and skin being pecked at by crows and ravens while his lower half seemed to have been gnawed at by a wild bear or panther based on the entrails sprayed about. But there was no mistaking it, It was Willard based on the bloodied cloak still billowing in the wind.
"Fuck!..." Said Lawrence snapping at the swordsman. "Who did you say found him here!"
"One of our youngsters!" Hurriedly said the swordsman. "They like throwing rocks at the bandits we catch. We hang the bodies here as a warning."
"And how many Arcanists are there in this village!" Caleb snapped, reaching into his robe to grab his wand but Lawrence snatched his wrist before he did anything rash. He looked him in the eye, and shook his head.
"Not yet," He whispered to Willard, turning to the frightened swordsman. "Take us to your elders, we've much to discuss."
***
"That ought to be it." Muttered Veythar, staring at the intricate magic circles that bore the sigil of the heavens in a complex array of runic symbols and glyphs that brought a subtle grin on his lifeless face. "With this, Eosira and I ought to be able to create the purest form of Arcana." He nodded again, admiring his work. "This might not be one of the best of my works, requiring frequent circulation, but hey, who ever complained of having too pure Arcana."
Straightening his crouched form, he circled the magic circles, categorizing and analyzing the imperfections in his design. "I can apply the Nihil concept to the twelve refinement points to increase the purity of the energy. Hmm, but I don't have that kind of power yet. Well I can always do a partial..."
He rambled on, crouching to modify his work. Making sharp gestures with is hands, the Arcana flared, inscribing complex calculations and re-writing the glyphs in a beautiful canvas of magic. He made slight adjustments, incorporating features that weren't necessary but would aid the user. He nodded, again he frowned before continuing to tinker, somehow feeling it wasn't perfect enough.
For the next week, he continued to tinker, pulling at his hair until he wanted to weep. "... I hate myself." He said looking at the formula once more, it seemed unrecognizable from the one he made a few days ago. "It's now optimized to contain all forms of energy not just Arcana. Ooooh, I forgot to account for body refinement, stupid me. Well while I'm at it might as well add Dual cultivation. Girls like sex right? He thought for a bit, recalling how his mother would flip out after his elder brother came home with some whores. He chuckled softly "Well it'll be of no use to me, but I guess Eosira can use it."
And for the next few days, he continued to tinker untill the bags under his eyes had doubled in size. "Shit!" He cursed, wiping sweat from his brow. He looked like shit. 'I feel like it too.' He thought collapsing onto the ground.
It had taken almost all his willpower but he had been able to stop himself. The formula was now complete, atleast for now. Rolling over to his side, he looked at the unconscious Eosira, he could feel their bond strengthening. When he closed his eyes, he could hear the soundless rhythmic hum of her soul connected to his own. "It won't be long now." He muttered.
***
A sea of multicolored light, a rush of unfamiliar energy. An obsidian blade, darker than night, glinting silver at the edges driving effortlessly through her chest. A smiling devil bracing her fall.
The scene played out in Eosira's mind like a movie. In this scene, Eosira was the most exhilirated she had ever been. She felt the touch of something beyond her understanding in her very depths... and it was amazing.
She had been in the prescense of power, and she wanted it. She wanted it all -whatever it was. It came from her very depths, bringing with it the overwhelming feeling of greed. So potent and deep it was, that she felt like she was drowning. Before all of a sudden, the feeling vanished, like it had never been there.
It was only when the feeling vanished and a wave of darkness slammed into her that she awoke. Her eyes snapped open to a bright night sky. The air was warm, and the wind was calm. Following what she had just witnessed in her mind, Eosira expected to wake up with a gaping wound in her chest.
She clutched her chest, but found no wound.
Suspicious, she looked around only to find the young boy collapsed by her side. He looked... So thin. Like he hadn't eaten in days, maybe weeks.
"Big bro... no, Veythar." She said, the name felt human in her lips. "You look terrible."
"And you still look homeless, so I guess we're even."
Eosira let out a weak chuckle, still clutching her chest. She could vividly remember the blade entering her chest. It hadn't hurt... in fact, she couldn't remember the sensation, but some part of her did.
Taking a breath, she rose to her feet nearly tumbling face-first into the ground.
"Neither you nor I have eaten in nearly two weeks." He warned, as she caught herself with her hands. He closed his eyes, but opened them just as fast as the haunting images flashed in his mind. "And I haven't slept in... I don't even know."
"Come, let's go find something to eat." He said, rising to his feet. Feeling a wet sensation on his nose, he brought his fingers and touched. "Well that's not good." He looked at the bright red blood on his fingers.
"You think!" Eosira shouted, practically lunging at him. 'Was he sick?'
Waving off her concern, he tilted his head back to stay the bleeding, before he reached into his tunic. He fished out a wooden flask containing a cocktail of herbs and spices to stop blood loss.
The Eldergrove was an oasis of all kinds of herbs. Ranging from Clausebane, Murkroot, to Solvane. To Veythar, it was just a matter of convenience to pick herbs for later refinement during their hunts.
"Sit and strip." He demanded, pointing to the ground.
Eosira hesitated, still concerned about his health. She watched as he steadied himself before she started undressing.
By the time she had dropped the last of her clothing, Veythar was over her. He looked into her bright golden eyes before he placed his sword squarely on her naked chest.
Eosira shivered, feeling the cold sensation of the tool of death on her skin ...again, but when his wrist flickered, Eosira had no time to react much less understand, s his sword seemed to dance on the surface layer of her skin like a blur.
With the precision of a master sculptor and the poised calm of a surgeon, Veythar inscribed into her skin, his nameless cultivation formula.
Eosira felt merely tickled, and the unsettling sensation of a tool meant for killing crawling over her skin.
For a whole hour, She sat there before he was done. Pale and weak, he squatted down, feeling exhaustion flood his muscles. Nearly two weeks with no food or water had pushed his frail body to the limit.
"Go... fetch... water." He rasped, before falling to his back.
Beads of blood trickled from almost every part of the young girl' body, sparing only her most intimate parts. Standing up, she rushed to the half complete cottage and pulled a bucket of water to Veythar and fed him until he could drink no more.
Coughing, he cursed the gods feeling like sleep might find him, and yet, when Eosira rested him over the trunk of a tree, the sensation slipped from his grasp.
"I had wanted to eat first, ...but you'll have to do the hunting today." He said indifferently. "Now listen up. I'm going to tell you how to absorb the arcana, I've built a tutorial on how to do it into the formula but this is important."
Eosira stepped closer, her face a mask of intrigue and wonder.
"To absorb the Arcana or any other type of energy, ne needs a spirit to do so and a will to command it." He said, cold and hard. "Arcana will not just bent to kindness, it needs a master, a ruler to bend it to our will. Remember this, Eosira Morningstar, just as we steal from the heavens, it will always find a way to punish us." He paused, "And if you are too unique, the heavens will crush you."
'Just like me,' he bitterly thought. 'Barely a babe, I was born a cripple and in turn lost everyone close to me.'
"How does one wield the spirit?" Eosira asked, closing the distance. Excited, she nearly forgot how weak and hungry she was.
"Now that, that you will have to find out for yourself." He said, pushing her face away, feeling a little uncomfortable with the little distance between them. "For me, it came naturally, but for some, it may take days, weeks, months, or even years. It depends on talent. But if you've got the heart of rebellion in you, it'll come easy."
" A Heart of rebellion..." She repeated, feeling the word roll of her tongue. Touching her bare chest, which no longer bled.
Reaching into himself, deep where his spirit resided, slivery light billowed like the kindling of a flame around Verthar's form, so soft it was, it seemed nearly ephemeral and yet in seconds, it flared bright like a jewel carved from fire.
It spun, dancing in the air before converging on his seated figure. It bled into his pores, making him look like a spark in the dark before congealing into his meridians. It rushed through his body passing through the gates of his nameless formula, shrinking in size as it was purified until it became blinding, like a light beyond the dawn, so bright those who glimpsed at it became blinded entered his heart.
The essence whirled, bent, and twisted like and endless otherworldly whirlpool. They formed onto a small crystal the size of a grain that blazed brighter than any star.
Veythar opened his eyes with the shadow of a smile. "It'll take about a year to form your core and longer to form your first star. So don't feel the need to rush, ...we've all the time in the world."