Chapter 1 - The Kytra of Eredith
Faeron’s eyes were shut tight as he lay curled up on a couch in his father’s office. Footsteps approached and his heart skipped a beat. Would his dad fall for it? Several moments later, his question was answered as the front door of the office creaked open then shut. Faeron counted out the seconds in his head; one, two, three… all the way to thirty. When he was sure his father wouldn’t be coming back, Faron opened his eyes and sprung off the couch.
Eamon’s office was always grand to see. More than its size, or the fancy purple carpet, Faeron was always enamored by the artifacts. He darted between each of the standing display cases spaced along the walls and admired the many masks, statuettes, jewelry, and more. His favorite display held a pitch black ring with a glowing sapphire centerpiece. Beside the ring was a crystal pyramid, bigger than Faeron’s fist and reddish orange in hue. Its glow was much stronger, pulsing, like a little star inside the crystal. Brilliant as it was, this wasn’t the gemstone that Faeron was after tonight.
Faeron wandered to his father’s desk at the end of the carpet. There, on an ornate golden pedestal, rest the Hoststone. Beneath the glassy surface was a lightless void. Seeing it, Faeron always had the strangest feeling; it was like knowing that someone is watching you before you turn and see them.More than anything, he wanted to look back into the stone. No matter how hard Faeron tried to get a better look, his father never let him get too close. Tonight, however, his father wasn’t here.
Faeron put his nose right up to the orb, squinting deep into the darkness of the crystal. At first, he didn’t see anything. Then, deep in the void, a spark of light—
“Mr. Lovel? Are you with us?”
Faeron jumped suddenly back to the present. It had been a decade since that night, since his mother disappeared, and there hadn’t been so much as a sighting of Evolice Lovel. She had simply vanished. In that time the nineteen-year-old had become the spitting image of his father, tall and thin with messy dark hair and a strong arched nose. He sat, back straight, eyes closed in a comfortably padded seat.
“Lost in memory again?” came Mathas’s soft voice.
Faeron’s eyes were shut and, now that the memory had faded, his mind was growing quiet. Through the athenaeum walls, he heard the beating of music. The End of Highsun Bash was in full swing just beyond the athenaeum walls. With it, came a new set of challenges in his favorite game, Prophet’s Guard.
“Focus, Faeron,” said Mathas warmly. “Distraction does not benefit a kytra.”
“Breathe,” Faeron told himself. “Forget the stone, forget the game, just breathe. In… and out…. In… and out….” Faeron’s breathing slowed and his body went numb then fell away. With each inhale he focused on the stray thoughts, and with each exhale he released them. There was only darkness in his mind now, no thoughts or feelings, but the silence only lasted a second.
The light started faint, far off in the emptiness of his mind. It quickly grew brighter and larger until it was a great pearlescent wave washing through Faeron. He was caught in its brilliant white current, streaks of color shimmering all around him. In the colors he could see scenes painted in perfect detail. Some were simple sights, like an endless ocean in a streak of blue. Others were strange and alien. In a flash of green was a world of floating islands, crumbling and reforming over and over again.
“Good…” came a faint voice. It sounded many miles away, floating faint and distorted through the pearly stream. “What… you see…”
“Blue and green,” spoke Faeron into the stream around him. It was a trick Mathas had taught him only this semester, commanding his body to speak, even as his consciousness rode the current of peridom. He couldn’t feel his lips moving, but he knew the words were being spoken. “I see an ocean sprawling, then a sky full of islands, crumbling and forming again. Now, orange, a forest smoking and ashen. A fire has just died here.”
“Wonderf… Now show…” came his mentor’s voice, broken and barely recognizable. “Waking… meditation…”
Fearon’s heart skipped for a second and the light around him dimmed. “In… and out….” he told himself. He should have known Mathas would be testing him on this. “Okay Faeron, open your eyes.”
Faeron’s eyes batted open. He could still feel the rush of peridom in his mind, and every surface of the small rectangular room shimmered in its pearly light.
“Calm,” Faeron cautioned himself, “no distractions, only calm.”
“Steady. Hold it…” said Mathas, “just sixty seconds.” Unlike Faeron, the silver furred capillum had hardly aged in the last decade. He sat in a shaggy brown robe perched over his desk with his long fingers woven together. His sizable black eyes were locked on Faeron and for some time he simply sat and watched. “You can relax now, Mr. Lovel,” he said, finally breaking the silence. “Your waking meditation has come far this semester.”
Faeron grinned with pride and it was all it took to break the fragile connection. The light receded from Faeron’s mind, the aura in his eyes faded, and the classroom dimmed.
Mathas rose from his squeaky office chair and limped to the long table where Faeron and the other Kytra gathered most nights. Faeron sat in his normal spot at the very back of the table against a large window looking in on a dark and spacious workshop.
“I see you brought your journal,” said Mathas, pointing to the thin brown and gold book on the table beside Faeron.
“Yeah,” said Faeron. “I haven’t had much chance for one on one, but I was hoping I could ask you something.”
“What mischief is our friend Jakob getting himself into these days,” asked Mathas, knowingly. From his eager smile, Faeron could tell his mentor welcomed an open invitation to discuss the topic.
“See for yourself,” said Faeron, sliding the journal across the table to Mathas. “It’s not so much the ‘what’ of it I wanted to talk about. It’s more the ‘how much’ of it… if that makes sense?”
“Your dreams are getting longer again,” concluded Mathas, flipping through to the very back of the journal where the posts were lengthier, some taking up dozens of pages.
“It used to be so simple, a day as me, a day as him,” said Faeron. “Now, I don’t remember the last time I dreamt for less than a week. Sometimes, when I wake up, I can’t breathe… It’s like his memories and mine are crashing together, and I never know if I’m me or him. I just wonder, it’s been ten years and Jakob is only in his thirties. How long will it be until we see what chased my mom away? Will we be too late?”
“Faeron… I cannot imagine the weight of your burden,” said Mathas. “And to chronicle this all in such detail,” he flipped through the pages, “it’s truly inspiring. You’ve done right by Evolice, no matter what comes of your dreams.”
Faeron blushed, but the compliment couldn’t cure the ache in his gut. “That’s only what I remember of it. Most of the details are lost up here.” He shook his hands around his head imitating the stormy sea that was his memories of Jakob. Trying to pinpoint any moment in Jakob’s life was impossible. His memories were vivid and fierce like waves but too brief to make any sense of. “I just wish could see it all at once like my mom did, find the answers before it's too late to save her. I’m ready now, Mathas. I want to learn to shape my dreams.
“The stone your mother used to shape your vision was unique,” said Mathas, returning the journal to Faeron. “But seeing as it is your vision. There may be a way.”
“You mean, you’re going to teach me to shape?” gulped Faeron excitedly.
Mathas drummed his fingers on the table and looked past Faeron to the lifeless room beyond the glass."I’d say the workshop has gathered dust long enough," said Mathas. "What do you think?"
“Absolutely,” cried Faeron, positively beaming as he swung in his seat to peer into the workshop. “How long do you think it’ll take until I’m like her.”
“As I mentioned, your mother’s necklace was the source of her power,” warned Mathas. “Even then, she studied the old writings and practiced her shaping for over a decade before your dream. There is a long journey ahead, but you are finally ready to take that first step.”
Faeron pictured himself in the workshop, shaping the light just like his mother used to, moving objects with his mind and bending the laws of physics around him, but the image felt incomplete. “What about Auri?” asked Faeron. “Is she moving on to shaping as well?” He knew Auri still struggled with her deep meditations, and she’d never managed a waking one.
“That depends on how she does on her evaluation,” said Mathas matter-of-factly, “You, on the other hand, have just passed quite spectacularly. Congratulations, Faeron. Take a couple weeks to get settled into your classes and we’ll pick back up on the sixteenth.”
“Thanks!” said Faeron popping up from his seat. He snatched his backpack off the seat beside him and tossed his journal inside. “So, who’s next?”
“Miss Lem next, thank you.”
Mathas remained at his seat as Faeron shuffled around the table, his mind abuzz; he was finally going to be shaping this semester. “Thanks for talking about this stuff with me, Mathas,” said Faeron, pausing at the door for just a moment.
“It’s a pleasure,” responded Mathas and Faeron exited to the Athenaeum foyer.
The foyer was a round room with tables of neatly organized books lined around the outside. To Faeron’s left was a large glass elevator and there were narrow hallways to either side. The windows by the front door were filled with displays of books, but, as printed literature was uncommon even before the plague, the same six or seven covers would often sit in the display for months at a time.
There wasn’t a soul in sight this evening, except for Auri and Quinn, who were waiting near the elevator. They sat in comfortably padded chairs arranged around a squat round table. As Faeron shut the door to the classroom behind him, Auri was, as usual, nose deep in a book.
“So much for in and out,” she said, not bothering to look up from her reading. Auri was built as strong as her unruly temper. She wasn’t quite as tall as Faeron, but he had no doubt which one of them would come out on top if they ever got in a fist fight. Her straight black hair was plated in metallic bronze ends that perfectly matched the fierce color of her eyes. Auri was in a charcoal grey tank-top and athletic shorts, although one look at her tidy hair told Faeron that she hadn’t been at the rec center any time recently. More than likely, she was dressed for tonight. “We’re on a schedule you know.”
Faeron shrugged as he joined them and sank into the seat beside her, resting his backpack against his chair.
Quinn, meanwhile, was a year younger than Faeron or Auri and small by all accounts. He was slim, pale, and his hair was shaved on the sides with short orange curls on top. He wore colorful sweaters year-round and got along with most people, even if he wasn’t anyone’s best friend. “So, how was it?” he asked.
“You know the old workshop…?” said Faeron with a smile, sinking back into the comfortable chair.
“No way,” gawked Quinn, his purple sweater causing the green of his hazel eyes to pop. “You’re gonna shape this semester?”
“About time,” smirked Auri, setting her book down on the table. She looked pleased but not all too surprised by Faeron’s news. “You know, once you can move objects with your mind, you won’t have any excuse letting your dishes pile up in the sink.”
“Ah, yes,” said Faeron, “super chores, the greatest of all superpowers. Maybe I’ll finally give my bedroom a proper deep cleaning.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” laughed Auri. “Now who’s up? Time’s ticking.”
“You are,” said Faeron, giving her foot a light kick. “You gonna be joining me in the workshop this semester?”
“Is that even a question,” challenged Auri confidently, rising from her seat. “How am I supposed to whip your lazy superpowers into action without a few of my own?” She threw her backpack over one shoulder and smirked.
“Bold words,” said Faeron.
“True words,” stated Auri. She snatched her book off the table and placed it into a return cart near the classroom door.
“Oh, and Faeron,” she said, stopping in the doorway. “You do have your gloves don’t you? I didn’t ask on our way out.”
“In the bag,” said Faeron, motioning to his backpack.
“Good,” said Auri. “I was gonna make you run all the way back home now if you didn’t. See you two in a second.” She shut the classroom door hard behind her.
“So, Faeron,” said Quinn as soon as the door was closed. “you and Auri have plans after evals, huh?”
“Prophet’s Guard,” said Faeron.
“Hence the gloves,” concluded Quinn. “You know, the End of Highson Bash is tonight. Quinta Firum is playing in the park and I thought it’d be fun if we all went and sat out there for a while, you know?”
“Any other night I’d say yes,” said Faeron, “but the Bash also brings a new Prophet’s Guard expansion. We’ve never missed an opening night.”
“Never?” asked Quinn.
“Not since we were old enough to play,” said Faeron. “You should come though. It’s fun figuring everything out before everyone else spoils it.”
“That’s alright,” said Quinn. “It sounds like a sacred tradition you two got goin’. I wouldn’t want to intrude. Besides, the simulation rooms always make me queasy. I do have something to show you though, since you won’t be around later.”
“Oh yeah?” asked Faeron.
Quinn reached into the backpack resting against his chair and pulled out a black box. It was about six inches tall, three across, and had a white tree etched across the front. The box was clearly a Deity mystery figure; Faeron was an avid fan of the popular strategy game and had quite the collection of his own. The symbol of the tree on this box, however, wasn’t one he’d seen before.
“It’s a Lunar Grove series. Pre-plague, obviously,” said Quinn excitedly, “found it in the imports market. Remember when Baeric Dipper stomped you with that weird Accabadan support unit? It’s from this set. Only unit I’ve ever seen from it.”
“Well, you gonna open it?” asked Faeron, leaning forward excitedly. Older pre-plague sets were a rare treat and many of their figures had never been seen by anyone in Eredith.
“Okay,” said Quinn, “here it goes…” He set the box on the glass-topped table and pulled at the packaging until the top popped open. Reaching inside, Quinn pulled out a figure with a six legged back-half, hooves, and deep purple fur. The front half was a man with beet red skin. Glorious golden wings sprouted from his muscular back and he held a similarly gold trident in both hands.
“What in the world is that?” asked Faeron.
“I don’t know,” said Quinn, examining the figure in awe. He took a nervous look around and dove back into his bag, pulling out a small glass cube. It was his homemade index, Logic, a personal project of his made from old pre-plague parts he’d bought off nomad traders. Whenever Quinn wasn’t playing Deity, you could bet he’d be in his workshop coding or tinkering away at the inner circuits of the device. “Since there’s no one around… wanna, find out?”
“Of course, load it up,” said Faeron mischievously. He knew full well that any sort of index or projection tech was banned in the athenaeum commons, but it wasn’t like there was anyone around for them to distract.
“Okay, but… promise not to tell Auri!” said Quinn.
“Alright?” Faeron shot him a confused look, unsure what Auri had to do with anything.
“I mean it,” said Quinn urgently. “She hates people who use projection tech in here. You know, I’m trying to ask her to Unity Fest this year.”
“Oh, really?” asked Faeron, not wanting to tell Quinn he had about as high a chance with Auri as Faeron did with going pro in Deity.
“Yup, I really think she’s starting to see me as more than just a friend,” he said with cheerful ignorance. “Last week, when you were out sick, she walked me all the way home after class and we talked the whole time. I just really felt the connection. I don’t know if it was a kytra thing or if we were just both in the moment, but I’m telling you that it wasn’t like anything else I’ve ever felt. I just know she felt it too, ya know? I mean she had to.”
“That’s great,” said Faeron, knowing Auri would likely have a different take on the story. “But you know, if you want to check out the fig before Auri gets out of her eval, we’d better get a move on.” Faeron pointed to the strange figure.
“Right,” said Quinn. He set the glass cube on the table then placed his figurine on top, “Logic, load up character information for this piece.” The glass began to glow, and a large-scale version of the figure appeared on the table beside the cube. He trotted back and forth across the table and struck a heroic pose in front of Quinn, perfectly detailed as if he were alive.
“I am Vykett of the Rowastroke people,” said the figure in a mighty voice, “how may I serve my deity?”
“Can you talk just a little quieter?” squeaked Quinn, looking nervously at the classroom door.
“Of course, my deity,” said Vykett much softer than before. “Would you like to know my specialties in the field of battle, or perhaps see a preview of my techniques?”
“Start from the top,” said Quinn excitedly. “Gimme everything.”
“I am a proud leader, tested and true at the front of any team,” said Vykett proudly, holding his trident to his chest. “Charge me with a squad of beastmen and you’ll find them inspired to run faster, hit harder, and survive even the deadliest blows.”
“Sounds perfect for your aggressive digger team,” said Faeron. “Maybe you could run—”
SLAM
Faeron and Quinn both jumped in their seats as a pair of young twin girls barreled through the athenaeum’s front doors, giggling as they collapsed onto the floor.
Myllie and Kaelynn were the youngest of the five Kytra, only ten-years-old, and covered head to toe in sports gear. With the twins came a pair of pink canvas bags, littering the athenaeum floor in clothes and equipment for the popular sport, bunball.
Myllie had less in the way of pads than her sister but she still wore her bright pink targeting mask, hiding all but her wavy ombre hair.
“Hey girls,” called Faeron. “How was practice?”
“Good,” said Myllie, jumping to her feet. She lifted her helmet revealing soft cheeks, a pointy nose, and shrap brows above bright blue eyes. “Kaelynn was a pro. Thirty-two shots on goal and she didn’t let a single one in.”
“Dang,” said Quinn with a whistle. “I don’t remember Faeron ever pulling off something like that.”
“Because I never have,” said Faeron. He had never been amazing at bunball. It was a chaotic sport involving eight teams of two each defending goals around a big circular field. Faeron was decent enough at keeper, but Auri had always outclassed him on both sides of the field. Even next to Auri though, the twins were borderline savants at the sport. “Really, awesome job Kaelynn,” said Faeron. “Those are some killer numbers.”
Kaelynn, who had been dragged down by her sister, was blushing tomato red as she struggled to stand back up in all her keeper’s pads. She snatched up her bag and collected the strewn clothes and a set of footlong steel keeper’s rods that had rolled under a nearby chair. Slowly, she lumbered over to where Faeron and Quinn were sitting, collapsing into the chair Auri had used. Kaelynn, like her sister, had a pointy nose and sharp eyebrows. Her hair was shorter and lighter than her sister’s and tied up into a ponytail.
“What’s this?” asked Myllie. She had put her mask back in her bag and was now dragging a stool from under one of the displays over to the table with everyone else.
“I am Vykett of the Rowastroke—”
“DUMB,” shouted Myllie loudly.
“Ignore her Vykett,” said Quinn dismissively. “That’s all for now.” The beastman gave him a salute and disappeared.
“Who’s already gone?” asked Kaelynn quietly as she pried off her cleats.
“Just me and— Oh spirits!” cried Faeron, grabbing his nose. The unbearable smell of sweat flooded the room as Kaelynn pulled a sock down and peeled off one of her knee pads.
“Haha! Faeron thinks you stink,” giggled Myllie to her sister.
“Shutup!” shouted Kaelynn, blushing redder than before.
“What in the world is that smell?”
Auri stood in the classroom doorway holding her nose, a disgusted look on her face.
“AURI!” yelled the girls sprinting to give her a hug.
“Hey, you two,” said Auri, grabbing them both in a playful headlock, taking one sniff and letting them go with a visible gag. “Kaelynn you know you gotta take those sweaty pads off in the bathroom. Myllie, go help your sister get out of her gear.”
“Aye, aye!” cried Myllie and the two girls sped off down the hall.
“That didn’t take long at all,” said Faeron, relieved to see Auri in such a good mood. He had half expected her to storm out, stomp off back home, and refuse to speak with him for the rest of the evening.
“I told you it wouldn’t,” said Auri. “Now, let’s get moving before the colosseum closes. Oh, and Quinn, you’re up next.”
“Wait,” said Quinn, popping up from his seat. “You’ve got fourth hour AI Upkeep with Professor Bundst this semester, right Faeron? Maybe we meet for a game of Unity in the rec room before class tomorrow? We can put that new fig through his paces. Auri, you’re welcome too, of course.”
“I’m game,” said Faeron. He was very interested to see how Quinn’s new unit played.
“Depends on the time,” said Auri, not bothering to mask her disinterest. “I have back to back classes all afternoon.”
“Maybe during lunch then,” grinned Quinn as he wandered towards the classroom door. “If not, I’ll see you after classes or something, I’m sure. Now, time to go show Mathas I’m ready to join you guys.”
“Good luck,” said Faeron, grabbing his bag as he rose from his seat.
“See ya tomorrow,” said Auri.
“Okay bye!” said Quinn.
Shortly after the classroom door closed, Myllie and Kaelynn came bounding back up the hall in fresh clothes. Other than their hair, the only way to tell them apart was Myllie’s black shirt versus Kaelynn’s white one.
“Hey girls,” said Auri as the twins sprinted across the room and came to a sudden stop inches from where she was standing. “Faeron and I were just about to leave.”
“Aww,” said Myllie dramatically, “you don’t want to stay?”
“I wish I could,” said Auri, kneeling beside the girls. “But Faeron and I are in a real big hurry. You two go show old Mathas how much you’ve learned, and I’ll see you back here in a couple weeks, alright?.”
“WE’RE GONNA CRUSH IT!” yelled Myllie.
Auri grinned and ruffled the girl’s hair. “Come on, Faeron,” she said, “let’s get out of here.”
“Absolutely,” said Faeron, going to the door. “Myllie, Kaelynn, good luck on your evals.”
“Thank you,” said Kaelynn timidly.
“Yeah, yeah, like we need luck,” said Myllie, plopping down in the seat where Faeron had been just moments before.
“I like the confidence,” grinned Auri. “Until next time, girls.”
“Bye Auri!” said the twins.
Faeron shoved the plank-like handles of the athenaeum’s heavy front door. He was greeted by a warm breeze and the sound of live music dominating the chatter filled ambiance of Loem Park at dusk.