Chapter 2

  A path already laid out before you is a path where no lessons are learned. Take the path where strife and challenges await you.

  -Collected Teachings of the Exalted Sovereign

  People always talked about staying inside the walls at night, however Charon knew that if you were still in eyesight of them you were safe from predators. The sheer aura of potential in the city was usually enough to warn off most dangerous wildlife. This close to the city, only a few of the plants whipped at him as he walked through it, a minor annoyance, instead of the aggravated assault he would have faced further away from Dasos. He used to be able to stride deep into the jungle and watch as the jungle stilled before him like subjects kneeling to their king. No longer, however. Now even the trees mocked him with their whipping vines. If they could laugh, he could imagine they would do so.

  The sun was now setting beyond the mountains, leaving the sky to bleed into the dark purple of night with the first few stars beginning to poke through the indigo sea above. Charon’s mind stirred sluggishly. His cindered soul did not just affect him physically, but mentally as well. He wasn’t a child, just a little slower than he should be. His body and the world around him moved as if there was a one-second delay behind what he intended to do or think about, an echo in a cavern becoming his everyday life.

  He had gotten used to it by now, it had only been a few months, but now he could walk, talk in complete sentences. He had improved so much and yet…

  His memory stirred, everyone’s look of pity. All of them looked down on him. To be Ignited required one simple thing, improve yourself, and he had failed. A failure that had continued to be a stain no matter how much he worked to fight it off. They should be proud of him for even getting this far. Yet all they saw was a man who failed. A disgrace to their order. An omen of misfortune to point at and be a reminder for all others what happens when you stopped the never-ending march to stay ahead of the fire that licked at your very being.

  The thought made his grimace return as he walked through the underbrush of the jungle, careful of his step, cursing at the occasional thwap of a vine or fern, until he came to a small clearing in the trees where a small pond lay undisturbed. Charon took a deep, relieved breath, then went to sit down by the mossy earth beside it. Here he could finally have peace and quiet. Here no one could look at him with those pitying, disdainful eyes. Insects chittered in the background amidst the calls of birds and the sound of wind blowing through the leaves of trees. Despite all of the turmoil in his heart, all of the pain he had suffered, life continued on as if he were never even there. Charon reached into his coat pocket and flipped out a pair of glasses he did not like to wear in public and looked up into the night sky, thoughtful. Countless stars painted colorful speckles in a swathe across a backdrop of midnight blue. If you looked hard enough, you could see the billowing smoke trails of star dust marking the edges of the galaxy.

  That’s when he saw the traces of white light dashing through the air above. The meteor shower. He had forgotten. His brother wanted to watch it with him. A pang of guilt stabbed at him. He was too harsh. His brother thought of everyone but himself, he even said he was doing all this partially for him. Charon couldn’t shake the feeling of dread however, that if Phaidros were successful, if Phaidros could become a true Ignited, a Shaped even, then he would look at Charon with the same eyes as all the others. The thought sent a shiver through his spine.

  He paid more attention to the falling stars above. In old books he read, people wished on shooting stars for good luck. Perhaps that was what he needed right now. A bright one flashed overhead, teal fire burning in its wake as he closed his eyes and made a wish. “I wish to be able to help my brother.” His eyes opened and the star was still there, burning, until he noticed it was getting closer. Like a thin, teal bullet it shot across the sky and landed in the jungle, causing the earth to shake briefly before stilling once more.

  He blinked, struggling up to his feet as he looked toward where he saw it crash. He glanced back over to the city, hesitating, before hobbling out towards the source as fast as he could. Luckily for him, it wasn’t too far, and much easier to find once he saw the snapped branches and small fires at the head of some of the great trees. All of it led to a line carved through the landscape ending at the base of a tree trunk, dirt kicked up in a large pile. At the center of the impact zone was…

  “A book?” Charon muttered. Something about this was wrong. Books didn’t just fall from the sky. Yet before he knew it, he was next to the book, leaning down to get a better look at it.

  There appeared to be a title in front, but the crash had torn away whatever was marked and had marred the purple leather that bound the book. Charon reached out with one hand, poking the book once. He expected it to feel hot and was surprised to find it pleasantly cool. He gently picked up the book, looking it over. There were no other letters on the cover, but in the light of the rising moon he was able to make out through the ruined leather the outline of a stylized skull stitched in black across the cover. The paper on the thick tome had silver leafing and the depictions of what looked to be several dozen different humanoid figures. At least that was what he found on an initial inspection; each figure had no mouth and a single, large, eye with bright teal irises like a hieroglyph taking up the majority of their heads. The longer he looked, the less human-like they appeared, multiple arms, bodies stretched and twisted in unnatural ways. Charon squinted, curious, before he could hear the sounds of boots stomping through the woods, the roar of jets accompanying soon after.

  His mind lagged for a moment before he panicked and quickly hid the book beneath a pile of wood and leaves nearby left behind in what he assumed was the book’s wake. As he stood he turned around to see the silhouettes of three Ignited in their armor stalking through the underbrush toward him, helmets on. He could hear a series of clicks, like an insect tapping its mandibles together coming from one of them, which was another capability of the Ignited’s armor, encoded speech. There was a single click from each of their companions as they spread out, visors scanning the area while the leader with a crested helmet approached Charon. He didn’t bother hiding, there was no reason for him to hide, and would look more suspicious if he did.

  “What are you doing here, cindered one? It is dangerous out in the jungle at night,” the leader spoke, their voice having a tin-like quality to it through the helmet’s speaker. Charon’s eyes flicked to the other silhouettes, the moonlight creating a gentle sheen across the ridged, black surfaces of their armor.

  “I was out on a walk to try and think,” he admitted. It was partially true. The leader was in front of him now, the armor giving them a good few inches of height over Charon, who tried his best to stand tall. “It is usually not so dangerous if I stay within sight of the walls,” he quickly added.

  There were a few clicks coming from the surrounding Ignited. The leader tilted their head to one side, sizing up Charon before looking back toward the path of destruction the book made as it fell into the jungle. “And you thought it wise to take a detour to see whatever just fell from the sky?”

  Charon raised an eyebrow. “Surely if a meteor dropped it would be no harm to me after it had fallen? How often does one get to see a fallen star, let alone one that apparently harms others?”

  A few more clicks from the others and they all gathered around the leader again and all looked to Charon. The leader was the one to respond. “If it was a meteor,” he mused, glancing at the impact site. “Yet there is no meteor here. Did it get up and walk off?” he asked, incredulous.

  Charon shrugged. “How would I know? It was barren when I got here. Perhaps it shattered as it passed through the jungle? It seemed to burst through plenty of trees.” He could feel the leader’s stare and narrowed his eyes at the man. “What? You think I picked up a meteor. I’m cindered. I can barely stand up straight.” It pained him to tear himself down like that, but if it would make the others feel guilty and leave him be it would be worth it. The self-jab seemed to have the intended effect. The Cindered were still brothers and sisters, ones meant to still be protected despite their failure. Unity guides the sword of valor and the Ignited must lift each other up whenever they can and whatever else the Exalted Sovereign spouted. To subtly suggest that these three were calling the person they were supposed to protect suspicious and a liar would not hold well. The leader of the group took a single, defensive step back.

  “I would not begin to think you are lying to us, cindered one,” the leader replied. “Please, forgive me if I led you to believe that.” He bowed his head, then looked to the others.

  “You are forgiven,” Charon said with a nod, frowning. “…You are right though, a meteor wouldn’t have walked off as it did. What are you expecting exactly?”

  The leader hesitated then shook his head. “We were simply on orders from Sacred Suneater to keep an eye out for falling stars near the city. For what reason? It is not my place to question them.”

  Charon nodded. “Very well, good hunting.”

  “Are you sure you don’t need an escort back to the city?”

  Charon smiled softly. “Whatever danger there may be, you’re heading in the direction it would be coming from. I know I am in safe hands.”

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  The leader nodded, stepping past him. There were another few clicks and the three disappeared into the jungle. Charon sat down as they left, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He felt dizziness threaten to take him before he shook it off, breath steadying. Why was he hiding the book from them again? Perhaps because he knew they would take it. Once he was a little more confident he was safe, he retrieved the book from its hiding place and walked back to the pond he was at earlier, not ready to return to the city just yet.

  Charon sat back at the edge of the pond, the moon high enough in the sky that he could look at the book again. There was no lock or anything on it, how did it survive the fall…?

  Unable to contain his curiosity any further, he opened the first page, which had the consistency of aged parchment. The text on the page was in a language he was unfamiliar with. “That’s disappointing,” he said with a soft sigh… looking back at the page again at the marks at the top of the page.

  Death is not the end. It is a new beginning.

  Charon started. The words were coming from inside his head. He glanced this way and that, had the Ignited come back? No… he was alone. He looked back at the page, looking at the first line again and heard the same words repeated in his head a few seconds later. Intrigued, he continued ‘reading’ the page.

  Death is not the end. It is a new beginning. Take my knowledge and see that you have been lied to. The God of Life would see you march underneath his banner under what his definition of true potential is. I offer an alternative. One that tosses away the shackles to life, the shackles placed upon mortality itself. Read my works and become eternal. Read my works and become greater than any Ideal raised by Life.

  That got a small laugh out of Charon. Greater than an Ideal? Hard to believe. Let alone possible for a Cindered… still, the opening page had amused him enough that he flipped to the next page to a table of contents. “Let’s see here…” The book had a list of topics that he began to read through. Basic Vitaemancy, Advanced Applications: Soul-Binding, Reanimation, Fleshcrafting, Bone Molding, Soul Manipulation, Dead Matter Manipulation, Soul Sight, Geas Formation. Each one had dozens of pages listed as being relevant to each. Rituals: Gate Construction, Ascension, Mentor. This was… morbid. Such powers seemed like powers reserved for a particularly macabre Shaped and beyond. That last one made him double take. Mentor? He flipped through the pages towards the end of the book, giving him glimpses of diagrams and blocks of texts in the same, strange language until he got to the ritual described.

  Mentor Ritual

  The following ritual is for struggling practitioners. The only requirement is an offering of blood and a reflective surface along with the following.

  Beyond that was an intense series of complex diagrams and explanations that someone would have to study for years to be able to truly comprehend. Yet… the longer he stared at the page, the more it seemed to make sense, the innate knowledge of the book seeming to bury itself directly into his mind. Even though he could never describe or put to words the knowledge that the book contained, he could recreate it, a thought that should have terrified him.

  Charon gently placed the book down on a nearby rock, looking from its pages to the pond. This will do, he thought, then shuffled on his knees to the edge of it. A look at his reflection in the water made him hesitant. Am I really about to try this? he thought to himself before he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a pocket knife he kept on him—it was about all he could wield efficiently without tiring himself—then gently pricked his thumb on it with a small wince. Blood welled onto his thumb before he squeezed it out into the pond. He reached out with his thoughts, with his will, doing… something, something that he could not describe as he held his hand out and watched the reflection. There was no flash or shimmer, or any other thing one might expect from a flex of power. Instead, when Charon blinked down at his reflection in the pond, another figure stood beside him, just behind. His mind lagged again before he yelped, spinning around gracelessly to see that there was no one there. He stared out at the jungle for a long moment, wondering if the other Ignited might have heard him. His heart was pounding in his chest before he slowly turned his attention back to the pond.

  The figure was still there, its single teal eye staring unblinking at him through the reflection in the pond.

  Hello.

  The voice that came with it was like countless voices all calling out in perfect chorus with one another with a deep bass that made the surface of the pond tremble. Its tone was singular, as if trapped in a permanent state of exaltation. Charon couldn’t help but stare, wide eyed with terror. The creature on the other side was no mere humanoid. It looked to be about ten feet tall and had two long, atrophied legs that connected to a stretched-out torso. It had eight arms ending in clawed fingertips, two crossed over its chest, fingers digging into the flesh, two before itself beneath the other arms clasped in prayer, and the final four splayed behind the creature and bent unnaturally as if imitating the wings of a bird. The upper half of its face was taken up by a carved, teal eye outlined in black around the unblinking lid. The figure itself had lines tracing across its entire form as if it had been yarn twisted together, waiting to be unraveled; yet the quality of its skin appeared to be more like porcelain. He had seen a depiction of this creature on the book itself.

  You have called and we have answered, it rumbled.

  Charon sat there, stunned as his mind struggled to process all that he was seeing and hearing. Was it all a hallucination? Had he fallen asleep at the pond? He looked to his bleeding thumb, the ache swelling from the now open wound with more blood beginning to ooze out. He was definitely awake. His eyes slowly turned back to the ever-staring thing in the pond.

  “What… what are you?” was the first question that managed to push its way through the thick fog of his mind.

  We are the Father’s Exaltation, it answered, the final word making Charon’s throat dry and his body weaker than it already was, as if an invisible force begged him to supplicate before this creature even if it was only a reflection he was looking at. We are here to guide those who seek the Father’s power.

  “The Father’s power?” Charon asked, a tremble in his voice now that wasn’t there before. He gulped, feeling like a paralyzed rodent trapped in the gaze of a serpent. “Then it is not your book?”

  No. We are but a piece of him, his gift to the world, his sacrament.

  Charon could not think of another reply quickly, so many questions churned in his head. He realized that the normal ambiance of the jungle disappeared. It was now dead silent, save for the sound of his own breathing. “And how are you going to help me? I managed to use the ritual here somehow without even being able to understand the language in it.”

  Such is the ingenuity of the Father, it answered, tone increasing in reverence to this ‘father’ that it spoke of. To be able to give power so freely to all that seek it. A kindness to all mortals to conquer that which they fear most.

  “And what is it they all fear?”

  Death and the oblivion that follows.

  A deafening silence followed. Charon couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This was a madman’s talk. Yet, the book had fallen from the sky. It was clearly what the Ignited were looking for but why? What use did they have for a book with the power over death when they were already granted immortality by the Exalted Sovereign?

  You have questions, its voice broke through his thoughts. Ask, it beckoned.

  “People were looking for this book. Ignited. What would they want with ‘the Father’s’ power? Do you mean the Exalted Sovereign? Potential is the power of life after all.”

  Falsehoods. They seek to hide our Father’s power from mortals, it lamented, though its voice remained trapped in the rapturous Exaltation of this father it kept talking about. It is power that challenges them that does not require suffering to get it, so in their envy they seek to destroy it.

  Charon chewed on those words. Power to rival the Ideals and the Ignited. Were the Ideals truly keeping this from them? How could a mortal become powerful without becoming ignited? No matter how much he turned the thoughts over in his head it seemed impossible… and yet with no training he managed to summon this ‘sacrament’ in the first place. He… a Cindered, was able to do that. “How then? I am Cindered, such power should not be possible for me to wield.”

  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.

  His eyes trailed back to the book in question, still opened to the page on the ritual he performed moments before. He felt it calling to him, beckoning him to take its knowledge and use it. The idea was tempting, too tempting, overwhelmingly tempting. Charon licked his dry lips, staring unblinkingly at the book. If he could master it… then he would no longer be useless, the others would no longer look at him with those condescending eyes. His brother wouldn’t be able to leave him behind as he advanced past heights that Charon could only hope to achieve.

  Use the book, he heard Exaltation call from the pond.

  Fear broke through his thoughts like a hammer shattering glass. No, no he could not use this book. Any power that came from such a creature or whoever created it could not be good or right. Hands that were reaching for the book slammed it shut before hesitating, one palm flat on the cover. If he wasn’t going to use it… what would he do with it?

  He could give it to Sacred Suneater, but the thought made his stomach twist. That is what he should do, yet the pit in his stomach prevented his thoughts from focusing on that solution. No, not yet. He could try and destroy it, yet that seemed to be even worse. His fingers trailed over the ridges that outlined the skull on the ruined cover. The power to conquer death supposedly lay in the pages beneath. He set his jaw, fingers clutching at the edge of the binding before he picked up the book. “I… I need to think about it,” he said as quickly as his mind allowed, tucking the book into his coat. The creature did not respond. He was grateful for that, though he hesitated for a moment to wonder if he should look back in the pond and see that it was still there.

  Sense won out in the end and he grabbed his cane and began making his way back towards Dasos. He had much to think about, but he didn’t want to rush into a decision just yet and leaving the book out here for anyone to pick up or potentially take back to Suneater seemed like a horrible option in comparison. So, for now… he’d keep it, just in case. If it meant that he could progress alongside his brother without the need to go back through that pain again… then perhaps it was worth it.