Chapter 7

  Those who fall should not wallow in the pain of their loss. Pick yourself up and try again, and those of you who see your fellows fall, reach out and help pick them up. Those will rise higher than any one man on a path alone.

  -Collected Teachings of the Exalted Sovereign

  Charon opened his eyes to the gray ceiling above. The late morning sun peered its way through blinders and made bars of light on the opposite wall where his old armor sat, dust beginning to collect from its disuse. The armor itself looked withered and rotted, reflecting its old user. He stared at it, unable to truly see it with how his eyes refused to focus properly and let his mind wander sluggishly to better days when he could truly wear it and stand tall among his peers. As the fog of sleep began to clear from his mind he sat upright suddenly. His brother was becoming Ignited today. He looked to the window again as his hand went for his nightstand to take his glasses and put them on.

  Guilt settled in over him when he realized that he had missed it, having returned home late after his encounter with the sacrament and fallen straight to sleep. His mind was then torn over to the book, which sat on a dresser in another part of his L-shaped room. From here he could make out the art on the silvered leafing and the dozens of teal eyes staring back at him. Curiosity burrowed deep into his mind at the sacrament’s words.

  Poor child, the victim of an abusive god burning any who do not march ever onward faster than the flame licking at their heels. You do not need such potential to wield the power of the Father, all that is required is a soul, and the knowledge of which to manipulate it. Read the book, we beg you to take the Father’s knowledge and see that we speak the truth.

  He could still hear its voice in his head, a shudder raked through him as he tore his gaze away from it and got up, walking into the living room proper. A plate of food meant for breakfast was waiting for him out on the counter. He frowned. He wasn’t there for his brother when he ignited, yet Phaidros had always supported him since they were young. Charon took the plate with a sigh and began to nibble on it as he leaned against the counter, thoughtful. His cindering had truly ruined everything and every new day he was beginning to grow more and more resentful of how much harder life had become. He couldn’t get it all back unless he went through the torturous first days of his soul burning once more, his very being in a constant state of pain until he had brought his potential back to a healthy state. It wasn’t fair. None of it was. Hadn’t he suffered enough? Why couldn’t the Exalted Sovereign just make it so the Cindered disappeared, or that when he tried to reignite there wouldn’t be so much pain? It was he who spoke of second chances, but it was easier to crawl belly first through broken glass than ever suffer through that pain again.

  His eyes were back at the doorway leading to his room; he couldn’t physically see the book, but its presence made him painfully aware of it. The pangs of hunger distracted him though and he tried to focus on his food. As he lifted his hand up to take a bite he realized he was trembling.

  Read the book, his own thoughts whispered to him. He took the plate, going to take a few bites while his blue gaze drifted to the doorway again. You and Phaidros can avenge Father together if you can learn how to use the power inside.

  Charon hesitated, then hobbled over to the doorway, food forgotten on the counter, and a small knife in his hand as he slowly approached the dresser the book was on. He stared at it for a long moment, then looked into the mirror beside him. His mind screamed at him for even considering it before he took the knife and pricked at his already wounded thumb again. He jolted in pain before then smearing the blood over the mirror, reaching out to it in a way he still could not describe, yet it felt natural to use the ritual now that he received from the book.

  As expected, when he blinked, the creature from the night prior was standing there in the room with him. Despite him having seen it before he still jolted. It spoke a moment later.

  Hello again, child.

  Its voice rang out, causing the surface of the mirror to shake. Charon winced, looking around suspiciously. Would others be able to hear it speak?

  Fear not, our conversation is our own. Though you must be careful of your own tone.

  That alleviated some of his worry as he grabbed a piece of cloth to hold over his wound. He looked to the sacrament in wary silence before he finally said, “You said that I did not need potential to use your father’s power…” He hesitated before continuing. “Would you be able to fix my cindering?”

  Your scarred potential will have no part in these powers of the Father’s. It is of life and the Father’s is of death. You will not fix your cindering… however you will be able to work around the disadvantages that have been given to you.

  That caught Charon’s interest. “How?” he asked, quicker than intended. The sacrament’s gaze turned from him to the book in the reflection.

  The section on basic vitaemancy will have the answers you seek. Be careful though, child, as the Ignited will not take kindly to seeing such powers used.

  Charon’s gaze followed the sacrament’s. Was he truly considering this? It had only been one night, one more night of being useless to his brother and the world. The book was too good to be true, yet what if it was? He was in front of the dresser before he realized it, hand outstretched. It was so tempting, surely he could just try it once and stop, right? If it turned out bad. The book might be shaped to give him power, but the chances of it having Domination or a similar identity was slim. He carefully opened the book a fraction, hesitating, then closing it again. Not here. “…then perhaps we should head to the jungle. To practice.” He looked back at the reflection. “Will you still be here when I return?”

  You have bound us through this mirror. You will not need to recreate the ritual when you return.

  Charon nodded. “Then I will return soon… with more questions, I’m sure.”

  We wish you a swift victory, child. We rejoice to know that you will use the Father’s power, may it bring you great fortune in the coming days.

  Charon smiled half-heartedly at the creature before stuffing the book into a messenger bag and getting dressed properly. He then left the house, food still forgotten, and made his way with haste towards the jungle. I’m doing this for my brother. I will not make him stand alone, he told himself.

  As usual, no one questioned Charon as he made his way out of the city and into the jungle proper. At most he’d get a nod and a friendly smile, at worst he would get someone creating more distance between them as he walked by, like he was some omen of misfortune stalking through the streets of their holy city.

  He walked uncontested out the gates into the jungle beyond. This time, he would dare to walk a little farther past the gate’s influence and off one of the main paths. The last thing he needed was someone walking in on what he was about to do.

  When the vines of the trees started to snap at him and the bushes bristled angrily at him, he knew he was in the right spot. With a few new cuts on his arms, legs, and pride, he moved to a clearer patch of jungle and reached into his bag to pull out the book. He opened it, finding the table of contents. There was still a section of basics waiting for him but he ignored it for now. He was just going to use the parts in the book he needed; if he could just fix his potential then he could toss it or give it to Suneater and be done with it. At least that was what he kept telling himself.

  Charon found the page number he was looking for and flipped through the book to the section in question. His eyes trailed over the pages, taking in the diagrams and text in an unknown language, focusing all of his attention to the best of his ability. All life is connected, the book read, that connection is severed upon death, but while it yet lives the vitae yearns to be whole again. Just as a creature consumes a plant for energy and then is itself consumed by a predator, one with this power can consume the vitae of others for new vitality. Be warned, the fires of ignited vitae will burn the user of this power.

  Charon furrowed his brow, the following explanation beginning to go into depths he could not understand and yet, just as before, the knowledge slowly trickled into his mind. He could not fully conceive what that knowledge was, but more importantly, he could replicate it. He shifted his stance, trying to hold the book more comfortably before a vine from a nearby tree lashed out at him, whipping against his shoulder and making him cry out. The book dropped, and anger boiled within Charon. When he went out into the jungle it used to become silent around him; it had always been an insult since then that not even the plants and animals gave him the respect he once commanded. He lashed out, hand outstretched towards the tree as he growled. The tree’s vines and branches reared back as Charon felt like his hand was touching something. Instinct told him to grab and pull at it. He did so, and felt as if he had just inhaled water as the tree struggled, then withered.

  Charon dropped to his knees, coughing as whatever he felt he was holding dropped as his hand hit the dirt. He shook his head, the feeling of choking passing as he heaved in breaths. That’s when he noticed it, the silence all around him, no more did the trees and bushes rustle and bristle around him in anger. It was as silent as the grave. His gaze turned up toward the tree he had done… something… to it, and saw that its leaves had turned a dusty brown, the furrows in its bark seeming dry as its branches and vines slumped and shriveled. It was dead.

  More importantly, Charon didn’t feel the ache of his new cuts any longer. Inside of his body he felt as if water had been thrown over a fresh burn. The feeling didn’t go away as he pushed himself to his feet and nearly lost his footing from how his body had responded quicker than it usually did. The delay was still there, but less so. The jungle around him remained still. A small grin spread across his face as he threw out another hand and made a tugging motion, breathing in as he did so and watching as another tree shriveled and died before him. Then another, and another. The once vibrant and lush colors that surrounded Charon became dull, brown, and lifeless.

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  Charon felt alive for the first time in months. It felt good to see the world that had mocked him now sit still again in quiet respect and fear of his power. He reached down and picked up the book again, seeing it in a new light than he had previously. He saw the endless potential that was held within it. Already after killing merely a few trees and bushes that had made him angry, he was feeling like he could walk with newfound strength he didn’t have before. He looked to his cane then, considering discarding it—but no. If he simply drained the entire jungle dry and walked into the city as a new man, then they would ask questions. A part of his mind told him that if he sat down and read this book in its entirety, he’d be able to fend off the whole city—but no. He did not let such ambition take his mind for now. He was doing this to help his brother, he reminded himself. His fingers brushed off the dust that had gotten on the cover, which despite falling onto the jungle floor still seemed to be in the same condition despite the weak brush of his hand.

  He needed to find Phaidros. Perhaps he could convince him to allow Charon to assist him in the hunt. The idea made him pause. Would Phaidros treat him like all the others now that he was Ignited? Anxiety swelled within him again, his hand gripping the strap of his messenger bag. The display of power today brought some confidence back to him and he let out a huff of breath. No, he would be able to convince him this time. Even if it was something small like helping train Phaidros. Charon was the Ring Champion before all this; even if he could not fight personally, he could help guide Phaidros while slowly taking the life of the jungle around them. In a month’s time? He would definitely be able to stand alongside his brother, he was sure of it.

  For now, he would have to think about what to say. He was sure that Phaidros would be out training right now so all he could do was go back home and wait until he returned. Charon took one last look down at the bag carrying the tome with a new sense of reverence. Whoever ‘The Father’ was, Charon owed him for giving him a second chance so freely while the Exalted Sovereign taunted him with it. He looked ahead again and began to make his way back to the city with newfound energy in his steps.

  This time when he returned home, the jungle did not snap, hiss, and bristle at Charon; it remained completely quiet and still. It was the most peaceful walk Charon had taken since he became Cindered.

  The sun was beginning to set by the time Charon had returned to the city and home. He returned the book to his room for now, the sacrament was still in his mirror as he passed it just as it said it would. He did not exchange any words with it however, some part of him still felt a creeping dread looking upon the thing that he could not place. He cleaned up the living room and waited, trying to piece out what the right words to say would be.

  It wasn’t long until he heard the door beep and slide open for a towering figure with a sword resting against his shoulder. Despite knowing this, Charon still felt a drop of fear before Phaidros’ familiar voice came out with a tin filter around it. “Evening, Charon,” he said, Charon being able to hear the smile in his brother’s voice despite not seeing it. He sounded exhausted, and only now did Charon notice all of the cracks across the plates.

  “Hey,” Charon replied, brow furrowing. He questioned himself on whether or not he should let Phaidros rest but pushed through anyway. “Can we talk?”

  “Yeah, just give me a minute to put away my armor and weapon. It’s been a long day.” He stalked off towards his room, the door to his room sliding open and then closing behind him, leaving Charon alone again. He would have to get used to seeing his brother in armor; it didn’t seem to match his vision of him at all. Phaidros was a kind soul, deep down, and yet in that armor he looked like some towering, intimidating knight with way too many points on him.

  He sat there mulling over the sight for another minute before Phaidros came back in his comfortable clothes and walked over to Charon before pausing for a moment. He looked his brother up and down before his head tilted. “Are you okay?”

  Charon blinked. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Your eyes, they seem… different,” he said, squinting. “Just barely.”

  Charon had no idea what he was talking about, but the paranoid side of him blamed the book he brought home and so he answered, “Your vision was enhanced when you became ignited, you’re probably just noticing more detail than you had before.” It was technically true and seemed to make Phaidros stop inspecting him so closely.

  “That’s true enough…” Phaidros muttered, seeming distracted before going to sit on one of the seats in the living room opposite of his brother. Charon let out an internal sigh of relief that Phaidros didn’t press further. He would have to examine himself if his eyes had changed later.

  There was a moment of silence between them before Charon broke it. “So… how was it?” he asked first, not quite willing to go straight into business just yet.

  Phaidros smiled but Charon could see strain behind it. “It was like I was breathing in smog my whole life and took my first breath of fresh air,” he said with delight. “Like I was truly made alive and all moments until then had been in a haze… then I trained with Zenovia.” His smile turned into a deep grimace.

  Charon nodded slowly, that was how it felt for everyone, the igniting that is, he had never trained with Zenovia. He smiled. “It really is life changing,” he replied, tone soft. “Zenovia isn’t going to go easy on you so just try and bear with it. It’ll get better, I am sure.” The way Charon spoke made Phaidros pause, looking worried that he might have made Charon upset, but his brother held up a hand and shook his head. “I am happy for you. Truly,” he began. “I wish Father could be here to see you as you are. I know he would be beaming with pride.”

  Phaidros’ grin returned. “And probably order me right into the jungle.” The two of them shared a somber chuckle, both of them looking off to the side as they each reminisced about their lost father. Silence followed.

  Charon would break the silence again. “I know you are set on this hunt,” he started, voice still quiet as he flicked his gaze back to his brother. “…and I know that I behaved horribly yesterday when you needed my support most of all. Father is gone, I barely even remember Mother’s face anymore, all we have is each other now.” He hesitated before continuing. “So, I wanted to apologize, Phaidros.”

  Phaidros blinked in surprise before his grin softened into a smile. “I know you mean well,” he said with a sigh, one hand reaching up to scratch at the back of his head. “I’m in a bit over my head, but the Exalted Sovereign always wants us to challenge ourselves, yeah? Well, killing a beast that killed a trained Ignited as a person who has only been ignited for a few days should rank itself pretty high with him I think.” Phaidros’ smile disappeared completely by the time he finished speaking.

  “I don’t want to lose you too, Phaidros. If you go out there on your own there’s a good chance of that happening no matter how good you are,” Charon cut in, tone serious. “Let me help you.” Phaidros had opened his mouth to speak but Charon raised a finger, having anticipated the initial objections. “I know I can’t help you much physically,” he admitted with a heavy heart. “I know on the hunt itself I will probably just get in the way, but I was still one of the best duelists in Dasos. Let me at least teach you how to best use your armor.”

  Phaidros shifted in his seat, obviously a little uncomfortable with the topic. Charon narrowed his eyes in offense and Phaidros brought his hands up defensively. “Charon, I love you,” he started. “But what can you show me? Sure, you can tell me what to do, tell me how you used to move and how best to do it but I’ll have no practical way to replicate it if you can’t do it yourself.” Charon’s shoulders slumped and Phaidros kept speaking. “I really do appreciate how much you want to help me but… unless you ignited and fixed your body, I don’t know what you could do that I couldn’t get from another.”

  The words were like a shot through Charon’s heart. Was he truly so useless in his brother’s eyes? Of course he was, it was exactly what he had feared. “Am I just a burden then?” he asked, voice strained.

  “No!” Phaidros quickly answered. “Of course not.”

  “Then please, let me help in some way, any way. Don’t let me sit here and do nothing. If you died out there while I was stuck here I’d…”

  Phaidros moved over to sit beside his brother and put a hand on his shoulder. “You know what you need to do then,” he said, voice consoling. “Igniting will hurt at first but if you move past that it’ll be as if it never happened. Like the Phoenix.” At least that’s what they had all been told. “Or just… move on.” Phaidros looked pained to say such a thing but continued, “If you didn’t want to ignite I don’t know what else you’d do. I want you to be able to help. I wish we could both go out there and kill that thing that killed Father and bring its head and hide back to Suneater. I have to be realistic though. I only have so much time to train and get ready to face the beast. I can’t wait for you.” He pushed up and out of his seat, turning to look back at Charon who was now glaring at the floor, defeated. “…if you somehow get to a fighting state by the end of the month though? I won’t deny you that, brother.” Charon blinked, looking up at his brother. “I can’t wait for you, but if you close the gap fast enough on your own then I’d happily have you along.”

  Charon’s eyes widened, meeting Phaidros’ calm, challenging smile. “I… I will,” he found himself saying. “I’ll be able to stand beside you, brother, just you watch.” Charon found newfound strength in his voice, rising to look him in the eye.

  “Good. The Exalted Sovereign will surely be watching your journey, and I believe in you wholeheartedly. Now if you’ll excuse me, I am about ready to pass out. I’ll talk to you soon?”

  Charon nodded. “Soon.” Phaidros began to walk towards his room, Charon watching him the whole way. The Exalted Sovereign probably would not watch… but someone else would. Once his brother disappeared from sight Charon slipped back into his own room, new determination on his features. He looked towards the mirror, seeing the sacrament standing ominously in its reflection already looking at him. He had a month to figure out how he could build himself back up to a reasonable fitness level to be able to don his armor again. At the thought he looked to his old armor, still collecting dust, still looking as if it was wasting away. He had half a mind to clean it, but decided against it, instead going up to the mirror, now that he had spoken to his brother and a goal had been set he felt less odd about going to the creature for assistance. “Exaltation?” Charon asked, voice quiet. The creature was always there but Charon still wasn’t sure if his attention was always there as well.

  We are here.

  The trembling surface of the mirror made him wince; he quickly looked in the direction of Phaidros’ room to see if he heard… but apparently he did not, meaning it wasn’t lying to him. That was a relief. “I read the pages in the book you had mentioned, the ones on… vitae absorption? I feel better than I did before. I need to know what happened.”

  A wise choice, child. You have now tasted the Father’s power for your own and have drunk on the raw potential of a living being, filling your own.

  “Raw… potential?” He had only ever heard of it as ‘potential’ before.

  We have tried to put it in terms you might understand, but a better term for it is Vitae. It is so sad to see your god give powers so freely while also refusing to teach his followers on the true nature of it.

  “But what is it?”

  To answer that question, one must ask the question: what is life? What is death? All life has potential in it, all living things grow, move, and change. Death is static, there is no more change, no more growth, and therefore no more potential. The vitae is what makes you alive, gives you the capacity to grow and change. This is what ‘burns’ when you become Ignited. It is the fuel source that forges your soul anew when it is shaped like iron being tempered in a hot forge and just like fuel, you may siphon more from something else.

  “So… I took this ‘fuel source’ and siphoned it into my own soul, how did that heal me? I felt as if some of my cindering had been cured or at the very least…” He felt over his chest again. “It feels like there is something there.”

  You had almost completely burned away your potential. Thus it made it harder for you to be alive, you were one step away from death. As you have refilled it through another life’s vitae, you have therefore filled your reservoir and your ‘potential’ to live has been healed. The amount would depend on the potential of what you siphoned from. An insect will barely give you a drop, while a powerful beast could fill you to the brim with potential. If it doesn’t kill you first, that is. Your soul is still scarred from being cindered, however. Your vitae will slowly deplete again unless you renew it.

  Charon blinked, curiosity raging inside of him now. “Wouldn’t that make me infinitely more powerful if I just kept drinking others’ potential? Beyond where I was before I was cindered or ignited?”

  You can be overflowing with vitae, but what use is an over-filled canister of fuel that has cracks in it or a large pile of logs without a fire? You cannot make a sword from an ingot by dousing it in gasoline. Even if you were to become ignited again, it would only guarantee that you would burn for far longer before you cindered again. Your actions are what stoke the flames hot enough for your soul to be shaped; vitae, or potential, as you call it, are a fuel source, nothing more.

  That was somewhat disappointing, though Charon knew it would be odd to show up suddenly as an Ignited brimming with potential after only a month. He hesitated before he found the next question on his mind. “What would you do with the excess then?”

  The creature’s pupil seemed to focus on him, making Charon feel more than a little uncomfortable.

  That is a perfect question, isn’t it?