Eldric was more than a little shell-shocked at his usually calm mentor's sudden change in demeanor.
Rykard released the boy after a moment, realizing just how rough he had been. "I apologize… Where did you read this?"
"I-It was a book… here in the athenaeum." Despite his true age and past experiences, Eldric was reasonably shaken by his complete inability to resist the ginger giant's grip.
Rykard looked visibly perplexed. "Here? That's not possible…"
He muttered something under his breath, then addressed Eldric once more. "Where is this book you read?"
Eldric scratched the back of his head, thinking for a moment. After glancing around to make sure no stragglers lingered in the athenaeum, he extended his hand.
"It's right here."
At his words, the environment around his palm warped unnaturally, as though space itself struggled to contain something. Light bent, air rippled, and from the twisting chaos emerged a strange navy-colored book.
Rykard's eyes lit up with awe. "My word…"
His voice shook, his gaze never leaving the ominous text. "Are you certain you found this here, my boy?"
Eldric nodded. "I was searching for information on the Sigiled—since you're too stingy to share." He muttered the last part under his breath, careful that his mentor wouldn't hear. "And I came across this book."
Rykard didn't respond. He grabbed the book from the air and tried opening it, yet even with his herculean strength, the cover wouldn't budge.
"It doesn't open normally," Eldric offered. "I have to infuse it with ether."
The mustached man shook his head. "Your will should be enough."
Eldric tilted his head. "My will?"
"Give it a command to open. It will obey." Even while speaking, Rykard's eyes never left the book.
'Right…'
Eldric didn't quite understand, but he tried anyway. 'Open… sesame?'
Unbelievably, the book responded. The cover unraveled in his mentor's large hands. Rykard glanced at Eldric, nodding in approval.
He carefully flipped through the pages until he reached the fourth. "…I see."
He turned the book toward Eldric. "Can you read this?"
Eldric squinted at the page. "Yes, it's talking about Heralds and Seraphs."
Rykard nodded, though his expression had darkened.
Eldric frowned. "Why? Can't you read it?"
His teacher gave him a small, tired smile. "No. To me, the pages are blank."
Eldric's eyes widened. "What?"
Rykard chuckled softly. "I can't see a single word."
Eldric snatched the book back, flipping to the same page to confirm. The text was still there—uncanny opening and all.
Rykard rested a heavy hand on his pupil's shoulder. "I'm fairly certain this is a grimoire, Eldric."
Eldric furrowed his brow. "A what?"
"A grimoire. Most Sigiled possess one." He hesitated, clearing his throat. "Though… they're usually Bearers at the very least."
Eldric frowned. "A grimoire? What's that?"
Rykard shrugged. "I don't have much of an idea. I only know it's a tool most Sigiled use, granted primarily to Bearers."
"Granted by who?" Eldric pressed.
Rykard chuckled. "By the people responsible for granting grimoires, I assume."
Eldric rolled his eyes. "I'm being serious, uncle."
"And so am I," Rykard laughed again. "You hold my knowledge in too high regard. The fact that I even know about grimoires is a miracle in itself."
Eldric wasn't quite convinced, but he let it go for now. "What about those words I asked you about?"
Rykard's expression darkened. "Ah… yes. Those words."
He hesitated before continuing. "The first one—Stigmata—refers to your abilities as a Sigiled. For example, your phasing is a Stigmata, an extension of your Stigma, which dictates the very nature of the Stigmata you receive."
"I understand…" Eldric nodded slowly. "What about the second word? In that grimoire—or whatever it is, it was mentioned in my Stigma."
Rykard went still, absorbing his pupil's words. Reluctant, yet resolute, he finally spoke. "I see… so that's where you saw it." He fixed Eldric with a grave look. "What I'm about to tell you must never be repeated to anyone. Do you understand?"
Eldric frowned. "…Sure."
Rykard drew a deep breath. "That word is Void." He paused. "It refers to space—or rather, the absence of it."
Eldric furrowed his brow. "Space?"
"Yes. One part of the fabric we exist on. The other is time." Rykard sighed, then pressed on. "But it isn't the concept that makes the word dangerous, it's the word itself. You must never speak it aloud. Especially around another Sigiled."
Eldric scoffed. "And I suppose you're not going to tell me why?"
Rykard shook his head. "Not because I'm hiding anything. I simply don't know why. Only that it is dangerous. That word, and a few others."
"So what, say it three times and it summons some evil spirit?" Eldric said dryly.
Rykard stared at him flatly. "What? No. Not dangerous like that." He sighed again. "It's dangerous if the wrong sort of people hear you say it, or even hear about you saying it."
"Fine," Eldric relented. "I won't say the scary word."
Rykard laughed heartily and ruffled his hair. "Cheeky brat."
"How do you even know about this stuff anyway?" Eldric asked.
"I was taught by my own mentor," Rykard replied with a faint smile.
Eldric's expression turned somber. "I see…" He didn't press further, knowing his teacher disliked speaking of his past.
A glance out the window told Eldric it was nearly sundown. His mentor smirked. "Past your curfew, isn't it?"
Eldric mirrored the expression with a grin. "See you later, uncle."
Rykard gave him a small wave as the boy left the athenaeum, the clunky doors shutting behind him.
He sat alone in silence for a while before muttering to himself, "I forgot to tell him not to use the grimoire in the open…"
Rykard paused, weighing whether to go after him. Finally, he leaned back with a sigh. "…I'm sure he'll be fine."
---
Eldric walked through the tattered streets of the slums, he had made this trip so often that the road no longer demanded his full attention.
It was strange to think that he'd been living in this alien world for almost six years now… away from Alex, from his child, if he had one…
'This is why I hate taking walks…'
With a sigh, Eldric tried to stop thinking idle thoughts. He decided to think dreadful ones instead.
Being a Sigiled entailed many things, positive for most people. Yet he was not most people—he was a lowborn of Sickle, dukedom of Larkos.
A relatively small dukedom within the kingdom of Raxon. A warring nation, present in the southern borders of the bastion of Valtherra, one of the six great human bastions. Bastions were the protective strongholds in which humans lived, keeping them shielded from the clutches of the Aghorath.
Aghorath was a word that simply meant monster, yet when used in a certain connotation it referred to the ghastly abominations that fed on human hearts. There was one such class of creature that terrified all newly branded Sigiled—the Harriers.
Whenever the world chose to speak into the ears of a human, offering its sponsor, one such creature would spawn somewhere out there. It could be in the middle of a human settlement, or deep in the reaches beyond the gargantuan bastions.
These creatures could sense where their prey was—the specific heart they were meant to feed upon. And so, Acolytes lived in constant fear, scared to sleep, wary that they might wake up in the belly of an Aghorath.
Harriers were much too powerful to be defeated by an Acolyte, no matter how much strength one managed to amass. The world did not spawn these creatures out of spite, however—Harriers were what stood between an Acolyte and their ascension into Bearers.
They were the trial of reckoning itself. That's why early Wielders of the Sigil had to conspire together, looking for ways to outsmart their monstrous stalkers. Although, working together was not easy—this was where the cruelty of the trial truly revealed itself.
The Harriers were completely invisible to anyone except their target. They could still harm and be harmed by others, but fighting a completely invisible opponent was quite the tall order.
Once an Acolyte's assigned Harrier was slain, either by them or another, they would evolve into a Bearer, gaining all the benefits of such a title. A Bearer was an individual that had evolved beyond human capabilities—they could lay siege upon a fully armed town without much trouble. And the stages beyond them exhibited strength beyond understanding, placing Sigiled at the top of the human hierarchy.
Nowadays, the trial was mostly a mock exam, merely exposing an amateur Sigiled to the tribulations they would be facing throughout their remaining days.
This was due to the presence of the Paladins—experienced Sigiled of Bearer status or higher, specifically trained to defeat Harriers.
Of course, Paladins walked in almost every city of Raxon and defanged the worst of the threat—except in a few weak dukedoms that lay out in the boonies. The Sigil was sudden and capricious, usurpers and revolutionaries among the commonfolk were not uncommon.
Noblemen, fiercely protective of their standing, denied any real avenue for social ascent. When a commoner's Acolyte nature was discovered, they were imprisoned, often executed, or sent to war—their Harrier unleashed upon the enemy.
That was why Eldric hid his power. Fortunately, thanks to the Radiant Seraph, he knew roughly how much time he had before his morbid counterpart would appear.
"Only a few years left," he mumbled under his breath, expression listless.
He didn't know what his mother had planned for him when the time came, but he had his own ideas. He wasn't going to hurt anyone anymore. If he couldn't find a way back to Alex, he would spend this life repenting for his last. He would live for anything—anyone—but himself.
"Easier said than done," he sighed.
Muffled laughter drifted from a large wooden building ahead; a carved sign above the door told him he'd reached Hargette's Inn.
As Eldric moved toward the entrance, he noticed a small figure standing nearby.
A boy no older than ten, with onyx hair and deep azure eyes, watched him. A tasteful mole marked the boy's cheek. He was breathless, sweat slicking his pale skin, and he held a sword with both hands—a blade far too large for his slender frame.
Eldric approached without expression.
Draven glanced up from the corner of his eye. "Mother's going to kill you, you know?"