Black clouds draped a red sky above.

               There was a haze in the air causing everything he saw to sway and swish.

               On second thought, it wasn’t just the air, it was… everything. Like all of his senses were being muffled.

               Nick stepped forward and heard a splash. He looked down to the ripples forming in the puddle, and his reflection wavered back at him as a dark shadow. In fact, he was surrounded by puddles. Had it rained recently? There didn’t seem to be that many clouds.

               For that matter, where was he? And how did he get here?

               Ahead, the land sloped up to a hill. There was nothing else except three other figures standing at top, two to his right and one to his left.

               Before Nick could call out to them, light flashed from the slope’s edge. Violet. Yellow. Orange. An explosive rumble followed soon after. The noise awakened his hearing, and he began to make out other sounds. A low shriek like metal grinding against metal, fading into the distance. As well as a steady clack like rhythm of boots when one of Vislanda’s mercenary regiments visited Sevola years ago.

               The strangers at the edge, didn’t respond.

               Nick stepped forward, driven by curiosity and anxiety. The strangers ahead looked human enough, but their black clothes revealed neither their gender or their kind. In fact, he never saw the like before. Clipped and neat, sauntered into odd sharp angles.

               They just stood there. Watching.

               Nick made it to the top, and stopped, realizing it was the edge of a cliff. His eyes were drawn to something in the horizon.

               Enormous rectangular constructs, as tall as Seraphil’s Spire, rose up in the distance. Light gleamed off their surface, brighter than any quartz, gemstone, or glass. Surrounding them were smaller constructs, built with geometric precision.

               Nick knew this was a human creation, a city in fact. A thought he found preposterous. Such a marvel could not have been formed of human hands. Not the Seraphil’s Spire, not the Imperial city of Rexus, not Reclaimer City, or the lost ancient capital of the First Civilization could fit this marvel.

               Violet flashed from one of the smaller buildings. Replaced by orange and yellow, followed by a shockwave sweeping across the landscape.

               Nick watched with horror as the building collapsed. Hundreds of other violet bursts followed, reducing entire structures to dust.

               He turned his eyes away, and saw what lurked under the cliff.

               Dark figures marched forward from a tunnel. Their steps perfectly in sync. Their gestures, their forms perfectly identical. Each held something resembling an aether-musket, one hand on the stock the other under the barrel. Something from the depths of his mind told him these weapons were far more deadly than a mere musket.

               They looked human, but from afar they resembled a hive of ants. Marching in organized squares.

               There were also larger block-like shapes between the formations, resembling turtles. A thin nose stretched out an angle from their backs, pointed toward the city. A whirring sound petered from the shapes, ending with the discharge of an array of violet bolts. The beams glided up, like glowing gemstones, disappearing into the sky.

               Nick turned his eyes back to the city. Moments later, violet lights erupted from the structures, another set of them falling to ruin.

               This was wrong. Why? There were innocents in those buildings. He wasn’t certain but it was likely.

               The figures below marched onward. Inching closer and closer to the ruined wrecks of a civilization. Nick remembered something, an order he had given. One he recalled giving to satisfy his need to be thorough.

               “Finish off what is left.”

               This wasn’t right. It wasn’t him. He knelt to the ground, grasping his head, trying to convince himself he didn’t give the order.

               However, where he expected to find skin, he only felt steel.

               One of the black clouds wandered into his vision. Moving opposite the breeze, and towards the city.

               No not a cloud. It was a ship. Bigger than any he knew to exist.

               A violet beam discharged from its bow, as bright as the setting sun. A high-pitched whine shrilled across his ears as it sizzled its way along the ground, obliterating everything in its path. The beam sheared through the tallest of the magnificent buildings, reaping it down like wheat in a harvest.

               Nick wanted it to stop. Something clicked in his head.

               The next instant, it felt like his mind expanded out, like everything below and above became a part of him.

               He felt a thousand other beings bind to his conscious. A melding neither like the joyous bonding of friends or the fiery joining of lovers.

               The only word he could conjure was nothingness. They seeped the feeling and emotion out of him like ice from bodyheat. Their thoughts were wound up like a clock, like the steady clicking of a merchant’s abacus. Soulless automatons. Machines. There was no judgment here, only calculation.

               Nick’s felt horror as his own thoughts began to mimic theirs.

               He stepped back, almost tripping over himself. Nick prevented himself from completely falling, but his hands drenched themselves in one of the puddles.

               His own reflection stared back at him from the water. His visage made clear.

               A distorted mockery of a human face. Like a blacksmith tried to craft one from steel, using hammers and chisels. Rigid bumps and slopes for facial features. Black eyes with yellow irises, shaped like a hollow square.

               And like a craftsman’s creation, he was made with a purpose. Made not born.

               Realization dawned as he lifted his drenched hand. This wasn’t water. Red looks clear on a red sky.

               Another thread of explosions rippled behind him.

               This was his purpose.

               He had no mouth, yet he tried to scream.  

               Nick jolted up, his eyes opening into the blinding rays of the sun. One hand rose to block the light while the other landed over his chest. His hands touched the damp linen of his shirt, skin underneath.

               He was back in his room, the only sound the steady thrum of Miri and Ren’s snores.

               It was just a dream.

               He touched his face, relaxing when he could feel his mouth and nose.

               Just a dream, nothing more.

               With his thoughts in order, he took one deep breath and flipped away the sheets. His watch was broken but Ren and Miri were still asleep, which meant it was still early in the morning.

               There was no time to waste. Today was the Day of Ascension, and the Earl was not one to be tardy for.  

***       

               “Absolutely scrumptious,” said Head Chef Morel. The portly man stood in front of Nick, his mouth puckering as he tasted a handful of the spices.

               He was… wide-waisted, to put it kindly. Plumpness was not a physical virtue in Vislanda. However, his heart was as big as his appetite, and was the one servant he actually liked in the entire manor. The man also knew how to cook, and was an excellent teacher, to which Nick was an all-too willing student.

               He didn’t need to eat, but good food was good food.

               “Everything good then?” said Nick.

               “Yes.” Chef Morel ran his other hand to tighten bandana cowled over his blue hair.” Yes, I believe so.”  

               “That’s a relief.” Nick sighed. Chef was a stickler about quality.

               Chef Morel twirled a finger. Blue aether swarmed around it, forming into water. It swept around his hand like a snake, consuming the leftover spice-dust. Once the hand was clean, the blue creature leapt into an empty trash bucket, vanishing in a splash of dirty water.

               “Once more, you cast away my doubts,” he said. “I didn’t think you would produce, but you did. All of these will perfect for the feast. I believe the young lady and the master will be quite pleased.”

               “If that is the case.” Nick pinched his nose, resisting the urge to sneeze from the flour dust. “I’ll take my leave.”

               “Very well.” Chef Morel sighed, looking around fresh pork and vegetables in the kitchen cellar. Right next to the stack of barrels, Nick had hauled over. The effort took him four rubies worth of energy.

               “I could have used your help for this…,” said Chef Morel. “But alas, I suppose I must make do with others. You really are leaving then?”

               “My mind has been set on it for some time now.”

               “So be it then. You take care of yourself, and eat a good diet. A young man such as yourself needs to stay healthy.”

               Nick smiled, stepping toward the stairs. “I’ll remember your words Chef.”

               “Good,” said Chef, as he uncorked a vial with a mana potion and drank its contents. Afterwards, he turned and spun his hands. Pure water appeared above a few pots, and Chef began moving them above the braziers to boil. Nick made his way up the cellar.

               “Oh, by the way,” said Chef. “The young miss has been looking for you.”

               Nick stopped.

               “She is quite agitated.” Chef winked. “I hope you remember to give your congratulations to her on the way out.”

               “Will do,” said Nick, intending very much to avoid having to do so.

               He moved out of the kitchen and into one of the long red hallways of the manor.

               There wasn’t much traffic, everyone was likely at the third-wing, busy with preparations for the lady’s ceremony.

               It was perfect. He was planning on making his exit as quickly and as quietly as possible. Without exposing himself to anymore sneers and jibes of the other servants.

               The red reminded him of his dream. He shook away the thoughts as he left the building through one of the servant’s doors.

               The sun shone upon his face as he stepped onto one of the many cobblestone roads crossing the enclosure. Healthy grass surrounded the entirety of the manor, and the air was fresh with the scent of lilies and lavenders. Birds chirped along a few trees littering the flat landscape, a few perched along the chest-high walls in the distance.

               The manor itself was built and decorated in old Vislandan fashion, from red clay bricks found near the foot of the Spire. At the highest point of the house, winged marble statues stretched off the walls. The Eight Divines of Man, founders of the First Civilization and the architects of the Ancient Capital.

               Below them were similar winged figurines, each representing the Six Paragons who pushed back the monstrous tide and took the fight to the enemy, establishing the beachhead now known as Reclaimer City. The Paragons held their archetypal weapons forward. Sword, spear, axe, hammer, bow, and flail.

               Nick was aware the wings on the Divines would have drawn outrage from anyone who wasn’t Vislandan. Everyone agreed the Paragons were Nephilim, but each culture had their own view of the Divines. Some, such as the Barkhan Sultanate, forbid them to be depicted in human form.

               They were artifacts of a bygone era. When Nephilim and Innatum meant something beyond mere pomp and status.

               Besides that, though, Nick remembered marveling at the man-made splendor around him five years ago. It still did to this day.

               If he ever had the time, maybe once he was fulfilled his promises, he would love to own a home such as this.

               Nick paced toward the entrance, just barely short of running. He swerved around a fountain imported by the Earl. The enchanted sapphire spewing water from the top of a marble pillar. Nick was all too aware the Earl himself had no interest in such knick-knacks, and it was done to soothe the whims of an all-too familiar villainess.

               He turned left at the gate, stepping towards freedom when a voice perked up behind him.

               “And where do you think you’re going?”

               Nick’s heart fell to a pit. A creeping sense of dread crawled over his back. However, years of ingrained mannerisms kicked in.

               He stood straight, tipped his heel, spun while clipping his hands together, and bowed.

               “My lady. You look as wonderful as ever.”

               A fifteen-year old girl with wavy green-locks and dressed in an expensive-looking blue-orange dress stared at him. Tessa Valkemp, sole daughter of the Earl. Her lustrous eyes, soft face, and prim nose painted the picture of a proper lady on the outside, all while hiding the harpy within. One of the many banes of Nick’s existence. A devil who ruled the manor like a personal hell.

               He felt the madness within lurch awake. Nick bit his lip.

               Tessa’s arms were crossed and was tapping her left foot. It looked like the devil had a particular axe to grind today.

               “That didn’t answer the question,” she said.

               “I have been running important errands my lady,” said Nick. “As all the other servants are for your grand day.”

               Lady Valkemp’s left eye narrowed, an indication she didn’t believe him in any way shape or form.

               “Are you avoiding me Wendier?”

               “Of course not,” lied Nick.

               “Then where were you the past two weeks? I was quite taken aback when Elric assumed your duties. To me.”

               “Again, running errands for your lord father,” said Nick, feeling quite sorry for poor Elric. The poor lad didn’t’ deserve such treatment. “He is rather taken with preparations for your ascension.”

               She closed her eyes, bringing one hand to her head. “I swear… my father always obsesses about the smallest things. The man needs to relax.”

               “I am sure this is how he shows his affection,” said Nick. “I might say I understand the dynamic, I have a little sist-“

               “Hold your tongue or I shall have it cut off.”

               Nick bowed, saying nothing.

               “And where are your clothes?” She pointed a finger towards him. “Why do you look like some run-of-the-mill artisan?”

               “The preparations require physical labor for which my uniform would be unfit for,” said Nick. “After all I am but a common man.”

               “Ah yes,” she said, twirling a finger. Blue aether spun into the shape of a butterfly, whose wings flapped before setting on the tip of her nail. Then green aether flashed once, causing the watery creature to freeze in place.

               Tessa as it turned out had a second affinity for water. Discovered after she snuck into an Ascension Ceremony at a neighboring town a year ago out of youthful rebellion. The uproar when she vanished from the manor was well painted onto Nick’s memory as well as the other servants. One of the few times he saw the Earl lose his temper.

               It made the point of the today’s ceremony rather moot, but the Earl had a healthy respect for proper decorum.

               “Tell me Wendier.” She observed the frozen butterfly in her hand. “Does it make you jealous, knowing you were born so lowly while others could fly?”

               “Of course, not my lady. I very well understand my place in the world. The Nephilim and Innatum hold their roles as decreed by the ancient rites of the Paragons, and so common folk such as I.”

               “Hmph.” She tossed the frozen butterfly away. “Good you are aware.”

               “I always stay aware to my lady’s wishes.”

               “Then I expect you to be fully clothed this afternoon.” She tossed the frozen butterfly, letting it shatter to pieces on the stone walkway.

               “Pardon my lady?”

               “Well you can’t be at my ceremony, wearing… whatever that is!”

               Nick dug through his mind to come up with some excuse. He had to be at Sevola, not only to bid farewell to the others but because he needed to leave this afternoon. Otherwise he’d miss the aetheral currents which would carry his boat south.

               His savior as it turned out in so many stories, came from a flap of wings above.

               A man standing at least two heads taller than Nick touched upon the ground as his wings retracted. He wore a brown coat spun from eastern silks complemented with trousers of the same kind. His green-hair was slicked back with pomade, a few gray strands hovering in the sides. Earl Vankempt had arrived.

               “Tessa,” said the Earl, his voice infused with worry and authority. “I was worried when the servants said they could not find you. Where have you run off too?”

               “Oh, Papa!” Tessa adopted a meek tone which made Nick want to gag. “I but wanted to take a stroll through the roads. It was getting stuffy inside.”

               “Stuffy? Oh, my darling, I shall fetch the servants to have the mansion cleaned from top to bottom at once.”

               “Really?” She stepped over, grabbing her father by one arm. “You’re the best!”

               Nick turned his eyes away. The Earl was a good man, but the way he doted and fulfilled his daughter’s every whim and desire did little to improve her temperament.

               “Nicholas!” said the Earl.

               Nick turned his head up.

               “Yes, my lord?”

               “I heard from Morel you arrived.” He stepped away from his daughter and grabbed Nick by the shoulders. Nick could smell the liquor from the Earl’s breath. “I wanted to thank you, for everything.”

               “It is my pleasure to serve my lord.”

               At this distance he could see the swollen eyes and puffy cheeks. Symptoms of withdrawal from the Earl’s favorite drink. Liquor from the Kingdom of the Isles.

               Although judging by his breath, the Earl had partaken in quite a few sips from Nick’s resupply since arriving.

               “Papa!”

               “Yes honey?” The Earl turned, revealing Tessa’s pouting face.

               She stepped forward, perched a finger at a stain on the Earl’s shirt, and sniffed.

               “Have you been drinking?”

               “Well… No-“ The earl said frantically.

               “Is that what you had Nicholas up too?”

               “Ah no, so I-… “

               “You promised you would stop! Didn’t I tell you that I worried for your health? Are you going to leave me like Mother?”

               Her eyes start to water.

               “Honey… look…”

               “I hate you!”

               She ran away in tears.

               The Earl reached out to chase after his daughter, but stopped. He raised a hand to his head and sighed.

               Nick said nothing.

               “Well, it appears once again I made a mess of things.” The Earl looked back with a crooked smile.

               “I will not comment my lord,” said Nick. There were circumstances surrounding the Earl’s family which he chose not to inquire on. Circumstances which left the Earl an alcoholic and Tessa as… well as the person she was today. In part this was why he couldn’t hate the poor girl, no matter how much she made work a living hell at times.

               “Anyhow. I wanted to thank you,” said the Earl. “You have served well in the last few years. It looks like I was right to take a chance on that common boy five years ago.”

               “The pain was worth it all in the end my lord,” said Nick.

               He had learned much under his tutelage at the Earl’s manor. Fine mannerisms. Access to knowledge in his library. The ability to navigate the aethereal currents. All things which would help him when he became a Reclaimer.

               And in return? Years as Tessa’s personal emotional punching bag and years smuggling goods past the border to serve the Earl’s rampant addiction for drink. The latter he wasn’t quite proud of. Nick wasn’t fond of liquor, as Valdric’s own drinking probably accelerated his demise.

               The former however, lent him a degree of mental toughness, more than any scarring. Something which made dealing with the bullying of others easier. Nobody he met was as mean-spirited as Tessa.

               “I am glad to hear of it.” The Earl watched as Tessa slammed shut the mansion’s door. “It appears I shall have to endeavor to make things better, especially now that you will no longer be around.”

               “Are you thinking of quitting my lord?”

               “Yes, with Tessa leaving for the academy, I think it is time to stop wallowing in my own pity.”

               Nick nodded his head.

               “As my late father said my good lord. Better late than never.”

               “Bah. I don’t need any more lecturing, especially not from you. It isn’t all just for Tessa though.”

               Nick narrowed his eyes.

               “Pardon my lord?”

               “Something big is afoot. I cannot divulge it, but bear things in the world aren’t as it seems. Whatever happens, do take care of yourself boy.”

               “Noted my lord. Have a pleasant day.”

               “Of course. I wish you the best fortune wherever fate takes you.”

               Nick spoke, this time without the honorifics.

               “I intend to drive my own fate. Not be driven by it.”

               “That’s the spirit.” The Earl winked once. “You remind me of younger self. Take care of yourself Nicholas.”

***

               Nick crested the hill, the same one from the night before. In place of the noon, however the sun shone down, illuminating all in its bright glory.

               The quiet town from the evening was now bustling with activity. In honor of Ascension Day, the garrison had issued out triple mana rations, allowing the denizens to practice their powers in full.

               Flashes of fire, yellow lightning, and watery sculptures whisked from street-side performers, applauded by willing audiences. Families and children wandered stalls lining the streets, vendors and neighbors selling homemade foods and goods. The laughter and simmer of conversation filled the air.

               A few winged figures, dressed in pale uniforms flew above. The few Nephilim who were born from Sevola visiting their home after taking leave from their posts. All returned to witness the younger generation rise on this day. A few of them appeared to be carrying gift baskets.

               Nick adjusted the strap holding the bundle on his back. Inside were a silverite spear and sword. Made from the same material as Lara’s armor, and each worth almost a year in servant’s wages.

               Valdric’s sword was mounted to his belt and in one hand he held his father’s journal. The two belonged to his siblings, and it was about time he returned them.

               His belongings, save for the trunk in his room, were with the air-boat in the cove. Packed and ready to move once the ceremony was over. He’d be able to catch the aethereal currents all the way to the Kingdom of the Isles, and from there take a ship to Reclaimer City.

               Nick’s eyes caught a crowd outside of Sevola, surrounding a large spherical pit that wasn’t there the night before. A sparring circle.

               It was tradition to have the ascendees of each town or city practice and test their skills against each other in a competition. One measure among many to prepare them for the military. Sevola was no different, and by this time at noon, only the best of the best remained, while the rest joined the audience.

               A few adult overseers, clad in black and white uniforms, watched closely, keeping the spectators away and stopping bouts once there was a clear winner. There was also a blue-haired woman with a brown-blue strap around a shoulder marking her as a possessor of dual affinities. Earth and water in this case, which made her a healer. Probably one of the most sought combinations in the world. Healers were rare and were always in demand, being treated with the utmost of respect even as prisoners of war.

               Two combatants stepped to the pit below. Nick could recognize Ren’s messy yellow hair and over-confident stance even from here. He held a training sword in a lazy slant over his shoulder.

               His opponent, a red-haired boy whose hair draped over his neck, tipped his own training sword on the ground.

               Nick crouched to watch. The two combatants consumed a mana pill. An overseer waved an arm for the fight to start.

               Ren’s opponent wasted no time. He drove forward, fire crackling off his arms, strengthening his lunging attack.

               Ren veered, lightning stuttering off his legs. His opponent’s sword struck went past and struck the wall, sending out a puff of dust.

               The battle continued with the red-haired boy swinging while Ren dodged, in the most goading manner possible. Some of his peers cheered him on, while others grumbled.

               It was an impressive fight for their age, in part because they could channel their affinities into physical strength.

               All elements granted physical prowess but some in one dimension more than others. In this case it was the speed of lightning against the strength of fire. An even match, with enough differences to prevent it from getting stale. Neither combatant had an element weak against the other, and both used the same weapons.

               Ren’s opponent stopped, evidently tired from expending his effort on fruitless attacks. Ren leaned against his sword in a comical and disrespectful show to his opponent, garnering a mix of laughter from the crowd.

               Nick just sighed and shook his head.

               The red-haired boy didn’t think it was funny either. He raised a hand in Ren’s direction, yelling out words even Nick could make out.

               “Ignis Amnis!”

               The crowd gasped in surprise as a stream of fire whistled out from the hand.

               Nick raised his eyebrows. A pre-academy Innatum using a first-tier spell was quite unheard of.

               Ren ducked away, like he did all the other attacks. When the fire abated, he came to a stop, looking at his opponent with a serious face.

               He held the training sword like a bat, disregarding any convention or fighting style, and barreled forward.

               His opponent yelled again, sending another stream of fire. Ren sidestepped the assault in a roar of thunder.

               Fire crept around the red-haired boy’s arms as he shifted into a fighting stance and swung to meet Ren’s attack. Ren, as Nick expected, met the attack head on, lightning crackling around his arms.

               Fire would beat lightning in a physical bout, all other things equal. This was however, was Ren.

               The two training blades clashed, and the red-haired boy’s guard shattered, losing his grip on his sword. Ren’s sword struck the boy on the arm sending him spiraling to the wall of the pit.

               The overseers announced the winner and the crowd went wild. Nick shook his head. His brother depended too much on brute force to win bouts. Something he felt would bite him back at the academy.

               Ren leapt off to join the crowd while his injured opponent was brought to the healer. The next two combatants stepped down.

               Nick recognized Miri’s side-knotted hair. She held a spear, poised and with respect to her opponent.

               The opponent returned the gesture with her bow, her own brown hair tied back to a ponytail.

               Nick frowned. A bow would force Miri to close the distance, eliminating the spear’s advantage. Her opponent’s affinity was also earth which countered lightning. A defensive element which was perfect for the situation at hand.

               In other words, the battle was lopsided, all factors taken into consideration.

               An overseer signaled for the fight to begin. Brown aether swirled around the girl’s right hand, forming into arrows, and she wasted no time using her bow to lob them in Miri’s direction.

               Miri batted a few away while dodging the others. Static sparks struck out from her feet as she shifted from side to side. Unlike Ren, she used her own affinity sparingly and with efficiency.

               When her opponent ran out of bolts, Miri lurched forward.

               Miri wasn’t in striking distance however, when her opponent was able to conjure more arrows. The brown-haired girl readied her bow to fire.  

                Miri shoved her spear forward, and lightning spiraled out from its tip.

               Nick was as surprised as everyone, judging by the shocked gasps from the crowd. Her opponent less so, as she let go of the arrow and raised a hand.

               “Terra Parma!”

               A wall of earth snapped up the ground, and the lightning bolt splashed against it, leaving behind a smear of char and smoke.

               Not only was Miri able to cast a tier one spell. She could do it with her weapon and without reciting the words. It was a skill not even academy graduates could use.

               The crowd erupted in applause. Not one to be distracted by accolades, Miri went on the offensive, launching lightning bolt after lightning bolt with her spear.

               Her opponent raised wall after wall to block the incoming attacks, not having the time to fight back with her bow. She attempted to close the distance to grapple, but was unable to keep up with Miri.

               Miri maintained her distance. She spun and swerved, launching lightning from all directions, forcing her opponent back. Her opponent reacted by conjuring more walls, but her need to recite the words slowed her down.

               The attacks moved closer and closer to slipping past the earthen defenses, and eventually one did.

               A lightning bolt speared between the walls, striking and paralyzing her opponent. Miri used the opportunity to leap over the earthen walls.

               She landed next to the fallen girl, kicking away her bow, and pointed the tip of the spear at her neck.

               The overseers called the fight over and a final round of applause came from the crowd. It looked like this was the last fight for the day.  

               Nick got up, leaving for the gate with a proud smile.