Three years later...

  Engin

  The air was crisp like morning bread, the high-sun a mere glint in the swollen skies.

  Breathe.

  He said to himself... watching the grass beneath him sway as if it were a curtain to the wind.

  Just breathe...

  The long rest had served him well. He was ready. Ready this time... unlike all the others.

  “Tight rope, fake left.” A voice whispered into his ear.

  Engin nodded, glancing forward.

  His feet were set. His boots strapped tight. He fastened his gloves, letting the tips just barely hover over the grass.

  A whistle blew off.

  The breeze at his back, he lifted off the ground and ran.

  His gloves brimmed with aya, overflowing in potential. The embedded runes helped him create a consistent channel of power motes. He shaped it, surrounding himself in the aura, latching onto his aya and using the motes to add Influence to his speed.

  Ahead of him, the defender was ready.

  Jiban, the ginger-haired boy from Bael.

  He won’t win this time.

  Engin readied his mote shield, his eyes focused on the much larger body in front of him. He kept a straight and steady path, no fear of a collision or failure.

  Jiban’s long arms grabbed at him, red with power, but Engin swatted them away with his mote shield.

  They were shoulder to shoulder.

  He needed to create space.

  He slanted left, staging a fake. Their mote shields sparked red streaks as they slammed into one another at incredible speeds.

  Engin batted away another attempt at a tackle, before lifting his knees and immediately cutting back to the right.

  The goro would be in play now. Engin anticipated it. He turned around and scanned the skies.

  There it was, hurtling like a shooting star-rock, directly towards him.

  Looming behind was still the large shadow of Jiban. But if he could just... get a little more speed.

  The goro came spiraling, an ovular ball, golden at the seams.

  Jiban was breathing heavily, but he had caught up. Engin felt a weight press down on his shoulders. He whipped around and pushed back against Jiban’s arms. They spun in a circle, and then another, before Engin used one final burst of power to break himself away.

  A smile cracked his focused demeanor.

  He leaped and lunged, stretching as far as he could. The goro touched the tips of his gloves. His body hit the floor, his shield pulsing just in time to secure his fall. The grass had clung to his face, kissing him with the softness of the ground. It was a triumph.

  And he didn’t want to let go. The sweet feeling of clutching the goro so close to his chest felt like victory. After so many weeks of struggle, he’d finally gotten one over on Jiban. Just in time too.

  The stormrunner trials were coming to Sorens Peak...

  And there was nothing more that he had needed than this boost of confidence.

  “Oy!” Jiban halted to a stop at Engin’s feet, a smile atop his ginger stubble. “Not bad eh, Engy. Not bad at all. Didn’t think ye’had it in you.”

  Engin rolled over and rested the ball on his chest. He exhaled a hard breath. The clouds were breaking, letting the sun swathe him in a warm embrace.

  “I’ve always had it in me, Jiban.” Engin replied proudly.

  Jiban’s massive shadow partially blocked the light. “Yeah? What took you so long then, eh?”

  Engin gave him a smirk, raising the ball so Jiban could take it. “I needed to believe it.”

  Jiban laughed. He took the goro from Engin’s hands and tucked it between the crook of his arm. “So ye finally believe it now, eh?”

  Engin laced his fingers neatly over his chest, closing his eyes in reverence.

  It was dark inside. Filled with empty thoughts and quiet regrets. It reminded him of that night. Of all that he had lost.

  A smile will go a long way. Someone had told him. Someone very special.

  He put it on. A smile.

  “Oy… Engy. Yer making that face again.”

  Engin opened his eyes. Jiban was frowning.

  They met each other's gaze and shared a quiet laugh.

  Jiban offered his hand... but then pulled it back. “I won’t go so easy the next time.”

  Engin sat up and dusted off his baggy trousers. “I’ll be a stormrunner the next time.”

  “Hehe!” Jiban helped him to his feet, whistling comically as he patted him on his back. “I admire the confidence Engy. It's finally starting to suit ye.”

  Somewhere behind them, Sioban blew on her whistle to get their attention. The noble-born girl was sweating profusely, her jet-black hair slicked back with oil as she walked with a powerful strut, like a true-born athlete, confident, but mature.

  “How was that for a throw!” she asked, catching up to them.

  “A little too far to the right,” said Jiban.

  “Oh please, Jibby.” Sioban wrapped her arm around him, planting a kiss on his cheek. “I was trying to get it into his hands, not yours.”

  “It was perfect,” said Engin. “Thank you both for all your help. Really. I wouldn’t have come this far without you.”

  “Oy!” Jiban smacked Engin’s shoulder. “That’s what friends are for, eh? Just don’t forget about us when you’re living lavish somewhere in the sovereign cities.”

  “You two have enough money as it is.” Engin laughed.

  “Not exactly,” said Jiban. “The way I’m going with my father, I likely won’t be inheriting any of it.”

  Jiban made a funny face, pointing with the corner of his eyes towards Sioban.

  “Don’t look at me,” said Sioban. “I won’t be sharing any of my inheritance with you.”

  Jiban dropped his shoulders and put on a frown. “It’s my fault Engin. Father always warned me about getting with an Alarcon.”

  “Jibby!” Sioban punched Jiban a few times in the shoulder.

  “Ow! Ow! Ow!” Jiban pulled back.

  “Don’t ever speak ill about my family name!” Sioban scolded fiercely.

  Engin laughed. “The two of you will be married by the time I get back. Mark my words.”

  Sioban pouted her face. “Well, it's too early for that…”

  “Oy… Engin, heads up.” Jiban’s face had turned serious. “Father Meida.”

  Engin turned to see the older Archbishop standing at the far end of the playing field. He was draped in red and black; his arms folded neatly between two long stoles that trailed from his shoulders like molten silk, each stitched with a crimson sigil of the sovereign skyflayer, Tiol’s second form.

  Behind him, a stretch of bluefin trees framed a jagged outcrop of whitestone breccia, their bark a ghostly grey, ridged like old driftwood, made starker by the deep sapphire blaze of their leaves.

  The Church of Sorens Peak was a colossal property, as most churches were in the sovereign lands. It was a hallmark of sorts, to flag every settlement with the true power of the world... no matter who the ruling party was at the time. Here the Haastarian governance was weak, subjugated to the embassies of the Ministry and some little control they held over the bastions. But even that was under a watchful eye. The watchful eye of the Church of Primordial Sovereignty.

  “You’ll be alright, Engy.” Jiban pulled Engin into a quick side hug. “Don’t push yourself too hard after your commencement. It’ll wear ye down pretty good.”

  Engin said goodbye to his friends and caught up with the father who was waiting for him patiently. It was nearing that time. The anticipation had been killing him all day.

  “Are you well rested?” The father asked him as they walked. A pale makeup powdered the lean maturations of the father’s face, making him look a bit pallid up close. His hair was long and silvery, thinning from the front.

  “Well enough, father.” Engin replied respectfully.

  “Good.”

  They strode a rocky slope away from the playing fields, where the land peeled back into a lush, overfed garden -- swollen fruit vines coiling around wrought trellises, baroque flowerbeds spilling over like they’d been planted in haste and never reined in. Here, a pink-roofed gazebo, where a troop of girls in school uniforms sat legs-crossed and whispering. There, the fountain of the Matriarch, its basin slick with moss, where a lone noble-boy sat hunched over his compendium of key readings, lips moving silently with the words.

  The Lady had left them in a good place. A good life, that many would kill for. Lots of orphans would have been abandoned on the streets after what had happened to them that night. Not to say the Church wasn’t so charitable, but so many orphans, homeless, all at once... if the Lady wasn’t who she was, and if the story of the burning manor hadn’t spread so far and wide across the city, perhaps Engin would have been in the shanties, slaving labor for some don.

  He felt lucky. Lucky for all that he had. And that’s why it hurt him even more that he was underperforming. Failing his classes, falling behind. It was time to get his act together. So what if the world had dealt him a couple of bad hands? Life was so much more than just a few avenues left behind. The stormrunner trials were going to be his proof of that. He wasn’t going to let this chance go. He wanted to get out of Sorens Peak. Get away from it all. See the world in its entirety if it were possible.

  “Father.” Engin raised his voice as the belltowers tolled noon. “I was wondering... what changed their mind about approving my commencement?”

  The lunch-time rush crowded the courtyards of the seminary school, a loud stampede of students cloaked in a myriad of accoutrements from all of the programs offered by the church.

  Father Ameida stopped Engin beneath the colonnade that wrapped the courtyard’s edge, where the stone pillars rose like old bones, sun-bleached and pale, holding up a shadowed roof of carved lattice and hanging ivy. The air here was duller, touched with the scent of dust and old incense. Sunlight spilled towards them in angled blades, casting shifting patterns across the flagstones, the kind that made you walk quieter without knowing why.

  “Engin-” the father started but stopped himself as a group of students burst out of a nearby door.

  Their vestments flared as they hurried past in stripes and robes of differing ambitions; Ministry initiates in slate-blue surcoats, trooper hopefuls in runed bracers and black toolbelts, aspiring healers with trailing sashes marked by Esteleron sigils. Someone’s bird also darted overhead, crying in a voice that sounded almost too close to human.

  “As you know, child. I hold a profound amount of respect for your Lady-Mother.” The father continued, adjusting his stole as they moved farther inside, away from the noise. “Which is why I fought tooth and nail to make sure you children were going to be treated right. What happened that night was... a terrible tragedy. One that I still cannot wrap my head around to this day. Why the sovereign lords took from us such a brave and talented woman, and her wonderful children... only they can know. But, as it is written; Tiol shall vanquish he who reveres the devil, for it is in his faith that we shall find the answer to our sorrows and shortcomings.”

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  Engin tried to make sense of the father’s words. He knew that they were coming from a good place. But answers in riddles was not what he needed now. He wanted some clarity.

  “Father, you told me that if I ever get another chance at commencement, that you would tell me why I was denied in the first place. I can’t help but feel like I've done something wrong. All of my brothers and sisters have long since been commenced, never held back like me. Why me then? What did I do wrong? Is there something wrong with me?”

  The father halted in his tracks. His gaze turned sincere. “Far from it, child.”

  “Then why can’t I know?”

  “It is not that you can’t.”

  “Then?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to live a life without such burdens? To bury the past away-”

  “Father, forgive me, but not knowing, is in itself, a burden.”

  The father’s eyebrows raised, surprised at the boldness of Engin to cut him off.

  “I’ve lived with the burden of not knowing for longer than a year now.” Engin continued. “I want to know.”

  The father studied him. A lingering tension between them faded as the father exhaled a long sigh. “Very well. But I don’t have all of the details. I am very much in the dark on some things as you are, however, I know for certain it has something to do with what happened that night. After they pulled you out of the fog, you and your brothers and sisters spent more than a week in our remedy rooms recovering from the incident. You, in particular were having a rough time, not as much physically, but rather up here.” The father explained, tapping the side of his temple. “It’s a cruel thing. To be so young and see such horror. You had night terrors for weeks, waking up kicking in your bed, shouting things you shouldn’t be shouting.”

  “Like what?” Engin asked.

  “Things a fourteen-year-old orphan boy, shouldn’t know...”

  What does that mean, thought Engin. I don’t remember any of that.

  “Let’s just say there were a few people that got to hear of these incidents, and didn’t think you were in the right state of mind to be commenced into the aya machine.”

  “But what about afterwards? I was fine after that. After I recovered, why did they continue to block me?”

  The father hesitated with his answer. “The Haastarians can be a superstitious people, Engin.”

  So it was the Haastarians... they stopped my commencements from happening.

  “Engin...” The father put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s better not to dwell too much on the past. What’s done is done. It’s time to look forward. If you go into things with the right head, I am sure you have a very bright future ahead of you. And it starts today, hmm?”

  “Yes, father.” Engin nodded.

  “Have you had lunch?”

  “Not yet.”

  “I won’t hold you any longer then. You don’t want to go into a commencement on an empty stomach. Remember to be ready on time however, the arbiters are always running on a busy schedule. They won’t appreciate a tardy patient.”

  Engin left the father amongst a growing chatter in the seminary halls, heading straight for the dormitory where he could wash down the stress of the morning with a hot shower and a change of clothes.

  How did you manage to make it out of all of that completely unscathed?

  It was a question he would find himself asking his sketchpad every day, hoping for some sort of response.

  Perhaps it was by some miracle. An omen? They had dug it up among piles and piles of charred rubble. But this one thing, this one pad of paper, had not marked a single scar on its surface. It couldn’t be a mere coincidence, right?

  But the more Engin tried to find some meaning behind it, the more he realized how much he hated being superstitious. How could it possibly have any meaning?

  I’d gladly trade you in to bring them back! He found himself yelling at it.

  There were nights where he wanted to burn that damn book. Throw it into the fire where it belonged.

  But something stopped him every time. That one page. That one page that he treasured the most. The sketches that Lady Elenora had drawn of him. The young man with the bandana and poncho. The young man with a purpose in his eyes. That’s what he wanted to be. He wanted to be exactly that. He found himself running his hand over it every night, dreaming of a better tomorrow.

  “Madame Song!” Engin shouted in surprise for who had come to see him in his dorm after his shower. “I didn’t know that you were back!”

  The Esteleron maiden pulled him into a tight hug, planting a kiss on the tip of his forehead. “When I heard that you were being commenced today, I took the first veil I could afford. I didn’t want to miss your big day.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.” Engin smiled, holding the hug for a few seconds longer. “I know you missed your family a lot.”

  “Nonsense.” Madame Song brushed it off. “My family isn’t going anywhere. But a commencement... now that happens only once in your entire life.”

  Engin made some space in the small room for Madame Song to sit. He used to share it with Krip, before Krip went off to Trooper Training. Now, he was all alone. It wasn’t a big deal... it just meant he had a little bit more space to work with. Besides, he and Krip never really got along, and they’d hit a pretty rough patch before he’d left. It was nice to finally have some peace and quiet in his life, even if it meant some nights would feel extremely depressing.

  Madame Song was wearing a very traditional Esteleron dress, a long and intricate gown, violet in color and silver at the stitching.

  Her bangles slid down into a golden line of rings as she held up the woven basket in her hands. “I’ve brought food!”

  They shared a proper meal; seedflour cubes dipped in heavy broth, surrounded by a large serving of rice and oiled vegetables. The honeycakes from the Estelas were Engin's favorites, the last time he’d remember having them was when Madame Song had brought them to the manor a few years ago. It brought back memories. Happy ones.

  “Mm- are you well rested?” Madame Song asked through a mouthful of rice.

  “Everyone keeps asking me that.” Engin laughed, sorting out the green beans from the carrots in his tray.

  “Well, it’s important. Not an easy process by any means.” She pointed a fork at him. “Takes a whole lot out of you. Don’t want you passing out halfway through the commencement now do we?”

  “Does that happen often?” Engin raised his brow.

  Madame Song gulped down her food. “Maybe not. But that’s how my brother scared me into taking it seriously, so I’m just passing on the word.”

  “It’s a good thing you’ve brought me this food then. Not a chance I pass out after putting down a meal like this.”

  Madame Song’s eyes grew wide. “Mm!” She murmured, cheeks full, still chewing. “Exactly my thinking!”

  They shared a few more laughs, before cleaning up what was left of the food.

  “I’m going to go drop in and say hello to the others,” said Madame Song, putting back on her sandals. “But I’ll meet you in the Aya halls? I don’t suppose they’ll let me come inside with you, but I’ll be waiting outside with some more food when you’re finished.”

  “Aye.” Engin nodded, handing her the basket. “Thank you for the lunch.”

  “You’re very welcome, my liege.” She bowed with a sarcastic smile.

  As she was about to exit the door, Engin had the sudden urge to stop her.

  “Wait-”

  “Hmm?”

  No, no, no. Why would you do that?

  “Umm... I was wondering if you remembered anything about that night. About what happened to Mabe?”

  Engin wanted to slap himself. He wanted to jump into a pool of leeches and let them suck the life out of him.

  Why would you ask her that, you fool! She’s already gone through enough. She doesn’t need to tell you anything.

  Madame Song stepped closer and put her hand on Engin’s. “We’ll talk about this. I promise you we will. Just not today.”

  She gave him a hint of a smile before disappearing into the dormitory halls.

  The Aya halls were a strange amalgamation of the past, present and future of sovereign society. The Monarch King Soren’s wife, Queen Alicia cleaved an entrance to the chambered atrium, a stone plinth beneath her statue marking her title as protector of the Aya node in Sorens Peak.

  The atrium itself was dimly lanterned, ghastly to its highest reaches, lit by an almost spectral, haint-blue, terra star radiance.

  Engin followed a boney fingered arbiter as they directed Engin towards a chamber at the far right of the atrium. “Chamber number 13,” said the arbiter, their voice vibrating strange and eerie through a dark headpiece that made what little of their face that showed seem almost, ancient.

  The door to the chamber opened at its own will as Engin entered, shutting him within the confines of a room that was made up entirely of black tiles. The far end of the chamber was an expansive glass cage filled with white sand, its ceiling centered by a golden engraving in the shape of one large spiral.

  “Engin Auclair?” Another arbiter, similar in garbs and vocal pattern as the other, called to him from a long desk with a series of white contraptions laid across its surface.

  “Yes, sir." Engin replied. "Well, that noble name is not exactly mine, at least, I’m not aware of it ever being bestowed to me.”

  The arbiter showed no change of expression. If they did, it wouldn’t have been visible anyways.

  “Sit,” he said, ushering Engin to a chair in front of his desk. “Now, this process may be painful at times... patients have reported; throbbing muscular spasms in their arms, legs and shoulders, sharp agony in the eyeballs as if a knife has been shoved right through, and in some cases a violent urge to retch up their last meal. Hopefully you haven’t had a large lunch today?”

  Come again!?

  “Um...” Engin gulped.

  The arbiter looked up from the paperwork on their desk.

  “I was told it would be good to eat a hearty meal before this session.”

  “...well, you were told wrong.” The arbiter sighed, disappointed.

  “Oh. Will that be a problem then?”

  The arbiter ignored Engin and continued with his practiced speech. “We will first conduct a preliminary biopsy of your aya flowrate, and pulse grade with these here instruments laid out on the table to confirm that your prima lobe is indeed still in an active state.” The arbiter waved his hand over the desk, as if he was a baker showing off his pies at the local fair. “Then, we will proceed with your commencement into the aya machine. This here big machine.” He tapped his fingers on an oddly shaped, giant white machine on the table made of a strange metal. It had an ocular lens built into it, pointing to the side Engin was sitting.

  Perry’s told me about this before. Engin hearkened back. A primalens. The machine they use to encode engrams into the prima lobe.

  “This here machine will pinpoint the location of your prima lobe,” the arbiter continued. “Which we will then use to connect your brain to the aya machine, with the help of your very own initialization engram.” The arbiter slammed a dusky, onyx colored box onto the table. “Following all of this, you will be asked to enter the initialization chamber, where a full biopsy scan will be conducted, giving both you and us a comprehensive judgment of your abilities, and resulting in the conclusion of our session here today.” The arbiter heaved a heavy sigh. “Shall we begin?”

  Engin felt that a nod of acknowledgement was at the very least necessary after all of that. “I'm ready.”

  The first two tests seemed to go by with a breeze. An abnormally large needle was inserted into his arm, which at first, was highly daunting, but once it had gone in, it didn’t seem so bad. Of course, the arbiter himself was giving no warnings about what he was going to do, as if Engin had been through this whole process many times before.

  But eventually they moved onto the primalens which wasn’t nearly as painful, only slightly uncomfortable for how long he needed to stay glued to the ocular lens. The lens showed nothing of particular interest, at times it was completely pitch-black whereas others it was lit up by a few specks of light which made it feel like he was looking into the night sky.

  When the arbiter finally pulled out the initialization engram, which was a sort of ethereal, rectangular shaped piece of glassy rock, Engin felt gooseflesh rise all across his arms.

  Initialization wasn’t quite what he had expected. Although, Engin did not really have any grand ideas about what to expect going into it anyways. Only the disingenuous word of his orphan brothers and sisters who loved to pull on his leg, knowing that he was the only one of them who had yet to be commenced.

  It felt more like a really big balloon suddenly popping in his head than anything else. Maybe that wasn’t the best way of comparing it, but Engin really couldn’t think of anything else. It was a foreign feeling, something you couldn’t ever prepare for. After it happened, Engin sat back in his chair a little dizzy, unsure if something had gone wrong, or if it really was just, that simple.

  “Can you stand?” The arbiter asked.

  Engin tried to get to his feet. It took a second to find his footing, but he did eventually feel confident enough to walk.

  “Take off your shirt.” The Arbiter commanded. “It will make things a bit easier for you in the chamber.”

  Engin did as he was told, no questions asked. By this point he just wanted to get things over with. The room was so dark he already missed being out in the sun. He didn’t know how the arbiters did it all day long without going insane, it was commendable to say the least.

  I guess it explains why they are so miserable.

  Stepping into the white sands of the chamber was finally the sort of otherworldly, euphoric feeling that many had talked the entire process up to be. He trudged through the low dunes, feeling the soft sand between his toes.

  “Sit.” The arbiter's voice echoed like a god in the enclosed glass chamber.

  Engin found his spot in the middle of the chamber, sitting beneath the spiraled engraving on the ceiling.

  A moment later, the glass walls surrounding him flickered a different color. The arbiter was gone.

  Undulating, vein-like cracks spread across the walls, pulsating a cerulean glow. Engin’s heart began to beat at the rhythm of a thousand drums. A throbbing pain streaked across the right side of his brain, down to bottom left.

  When he touched his head to check, he felt nothing. As if it wasn’t there. As if it were empty space between his hands.

  Suddenly, the cracks in the glass began to congeal and contract towards a center mass, leaving clouds of crimson smoke in their wake.

  Aya Flow Rate: 5.5 m/s (motex/second)

  ...

  The center mass was like an ocular lens. Seeing through it created words, relaying the results of his biopsy.

  Aya Pulse Grade: C-15

  ...

  Engram Capacity: 4 units

  ...

  Engin felt his hands burn. A violent but familiar pain, bringing him back to that night... the first time he had conjured hex motes.

  Shield Motes Detected: Database Comparison - Tier 2

  Power Motes Detected: Database Comparison - Tier 3

  Hex Motes Detected: Database Comparison - Tier 1

  Flux Motes Detected: Database Comparison - Tier Unknown

  No Further Mote Channels Detected

  ...

  Latching Variable: 2

  Influence Variable: 4

  Bonding Variable: 1

  ...

  Full Data Biopsy Complete

  ...

  ....

  .....

  Engram Tree Detected: Unchained Dreamer

  storms side of this story, while our MC's journey continues. Would love some feedback on it in the comments. If people enjoy it, I will post some more in the future (Very sparingly. This is something I work on only in my spare time.). Main Story Progression will always take priority!

  Speaking of Posting. I am also working very hard to build a backlog this month, which would mean daily posts once my exams are completed. Hoping for the best!