“Light pierced the veil, shattering the shadow,
and all in creation witness its arrival.”
Light’s origin,
Page 1, Line 4
“PALOS,” THE MASTER PURRED, as if testing the word on his tongue. He sat behind a huge desk, piled high with ancient scrolls and books, his fingers steepled as he looked down his nose at the boy.
“Yes, Master,” Palos nodded, trying to calm his inner panic. He felt the presence of the bearded man and thin woman looming behind him but couldn’t turn from The Masters’ gaze.
Over the years he, like all the others here, had grown a healthy fear of this man. His decisions alone could send you to the fens or worse, and he took pleasure in doing so. Palos turned his gaze down to where he kneaded his hands in his lap.
“It seems you have been acting…,” he paused letting the words hang in the air “…erratic of late.” Palos flinched at the words but kept his mouth shut. “This is something we must rectify, however….” A glimmer of hope appeared within his chest, and he looked up again to meet The Masters’ eyes. Purple specks drifted across the white of his eyes in the silence that followed.
“We have some troubling news. It seems a servant of the enemy has infiltrated our school, one that has been using magic.” Palos’ heart fell through his stomach, and he gasped. His mind raced and he felt his heartbeat in his head. The Master acknowledged this reaction with a nod.
A servant of The Enemy? Is it Trista? She did magic! She taught me! I did magic!
His eyes widened with shock as he sought to put the pieces together.
Did she use me? But we trusted each other!
The image of the rune glowing on her forearm appeared in his head and he swallowed.
“Yes, that was our reaction, too,” The Master continued. “Anyone who serves The Enemy could be a danger to us all, their very presence could corrupt the young minds here. Young minds that need to learn discipline and hardness so they can one day handle the magic they are to learn.” Palos returned his attention to The Master and nodded along.
“Of course, wh.. what can I do to help?” he enquired, weakly. The Master smiled reassuringly in response.
“Well, have you seen anything unusual? People out at night or…, “he paused again, “… runes marked around the school. These are signs of The Dark and their magics, seeping into our institution.
Palos stopped short of choking. He clenched his hands into fists to stop them from shaking and swallowed.
“I… I… don’t know…” he whimpered.
“Come now lad. We have been watching you, and I think you know what we want from you.” Palos started to breathe heavily as he visualised the punishments that awaited him. The Master grinned again, this time not in a friendly manner.
“We know the temptation of magic is sweet and those of The Enemy are subtle,” he cooed. “We could forgive such transgressions and even reward you should you co-operate. The Path of the Ascended is walked by those who show unwavering loyalty to us. What is a more conclusive display of that than turning in one of The Enemy?”
Palos struggled to breathe as he visualised Trista’s face and the feel of her hands on his. The gleam in her eye as she taught him magic, and the kiss on his lips.
Had it all been lies?
“And… and… if I don’t know?” Palos stammered. The Master shook his head in disappointment.
“Well, being out after dark holds a heavy price, and working with The Enemy. Well, that has only one answer.” He nodded at those standing against the back wall, “The Path of the Forlorn.” The man seized Palos by the shoulders and lifted him from the chair, as if he was a child.
“Noooo!” Screamed Palos, “Not that! I didn’t work with them. I didn’t!” he wailed as the man pulled him effortlessly towards the door.
“If not you, then who? Who is this servant of The Enemy?” The Masters’ voice cut through Palos’ wails, his tone one of absolute authority.
“T… Trista,” he sobbed in despair. “It was Trista Elmshadow! She did magic!” The man released him, and he crumpled to the floor, grief overcoming him.
“Thank you for your loyalty, Apprentice Palos, we are men of our word. You will ascend. You may go now. We will deal with this.” He gestured to the two disciples, who nodded and left the room. Palos managed to gain his feet and staggered after them. He felt The Masters’ eyes upon him right up until he shut the door.
It closed with a bang, and he slumped against the wall, burying his head in his hands.
“What have I done?” he breathed.
Trista trusted me. How could I do that?
His mind warred with his emotions as he struggled to grasp his situation.
Is she the enemy? She had a rune on her, and used magic. Is that the temptation of The Enemy. They would not say it if it was not true. She knows magic is forbidden and she practised it. She broke the rules. She must be one of them. How did I not see it before? Have I strayed so far from the path?’
His mind bubbled with the questions, but one thought shone through. He had achieved his goal. He had been granted the right to ascend. He breathed a sigh, not wanting to be caught outside The Masters’ office and not knowing where else to go, he headed off towards his afternoon assignment.
I need to think.
He wiped the tears from his eyes and trudged down the corridor. A spark of excitement burned in his chest, but beneath was something hollow.
He stepped out into the bright afternoon light, crossing the length of the marshalling yard, and continuing down the mountainside until he came to a fenced off field. All kinds of animals wandered the grounds, grazing on the yellow mountain grass. He could make out several shapes on the distant side of the field, feeding and caring for the animals. He felt in no mood to join them, instead heading for the nearest barn. He pushed the door and found the wooden planks and hammer he was looking for.
The fences needed repairing anyway.
The barn was little more than a workshop filled with tools, piles of yellow hay and some stalls for the animals, though they all lay empty now.
“Where were you, Blackstone?” A voice came from the shaded corner of the barn and Palos jumped. He took a defensive stance and flinched back at the sight of Trista.
“You scared me,” he protested, turning back to his task of retrieving the tools. His heart beat quickly, and he was beginning to sweat. “Aren’t you supposed to be helping stable some of the animals?” Trista stepped from the darkened corner and followed him slowly.
“Yes,” she answered blankly, “…but there was something I wished to talk to you about first.” Palos froze for the briefest of moments as he reached down to scoop up the required tools.
“About?”
“The Path of the Ascended…. You…you should not take it?” she replied. Palos turned, slowly.
“What?” He stepped away from her, putting his back to the bench.
“You told me you figured it out. You said you knew what to do?” she searched his face, “…but don’t do it. There is another way.” It struck him and his mouth fell open.
“You knew,” he muttered. “You knew this whole time, and you didn’t tell me!” he shouted in disbelief. “I thought you said we were friends! Well, I’m glad I figured it out myself! I will ascend!” Trista’s head rocked back as if she had been physically struck by the words. She didn’t say anything at first and they just stared at each other.
“Did… did you give me up?” She asked calmly, though her tone told him, she already knew.
“I… I… had no choice,” Palos faltered “They threatened to send me on the Path of the Forlorn. What was I supposed to do?” Palos licked his dry lips uncomfortably and slid along the bench to put some distance between them. He could feel that knot in his stomach rising. “and…and, you’re one of them. The Enemy. And that the magic was … was…” Her face remained stoic, but Palos could see the ache in her eyes, and it tore something inside him. “I… I’m sorry, you can still run. They’re coming for you. I don’t know when they will be here, but you can run.”
Even if she was a servant of The Enemy, she had been his friend.
At least… I think she had.
His distrust gave way to his feelings, and he took a step forward as he pleaded.
“Please, please run,” she gazed at him, her eyes trembling in the dim light of the barn, somehow illuminated against the darkness.
“Come with me?” she said, and it took Palos aback.
“Wha…What…?”
“Come with me.”
“This… this is my home. I can’t, I won’t join The Enemy!” He said the last with a tone of triumph. She shook her head, disappointment clear on her face.
“It’s not right!” she said evenly. “What they told you isn’t right.”
“I need to go. I won’t become a minion of The Dark.” Palos pushed past her and hurried for the wide double doors. The doors crashed shut in his face. The sound itself enough to send him sprawling. He skidded backwards along the floor, looking around unnerved before scrambling to his feet.
He swung to face Trista. She stood close now, and in the dark Palos could make out the dimming light of a scar on her outstretched arm.
“What is happening?” Palos stammered, trying to regain his wits, and put some level of strength back into his voice. “What are you doing?”
“You can’t go back to them Palos! We need you.” Trista said again evenly, then paused. “The world needs you.”
“I can’t, I can’t,” he repeated, circling her. The other door still lay open and if he could get to it, he could get out of the barn and make a run for it. Trista, as if reading his mind, raised her arm again and a smouldering orange light of a rune blossomed on her forearm. The other door slammed shut and the barn was plunged into near darkness. Thin streams of sunlight peeked through the cracks, providing the only illumination.
Palos edged slowly back, looking for an escape.
“Stay back, you are not what you seem!” He whimpered, “keep your dark magic away.”
“Dark magic?'' Now it was Trista’s turn to look confused. Palos gestured at her arm with a nod of his chin. “Oh,” she exclaimed, slightly taken aback. “This is rune magic.” Palos recoiled.
“Then why haven’t we been taught it, if it’s not some dark magic.” Palos asked, feeling confident in his assessment. “Did you come here as a dark sorceress or simply fall down the wrong path? For Dargoth’s sake Trista, we were friends! I’m sure if you come forward, they can help you!”
Her face darkened more than the lighting of the barn could have affected.
“I am not a servant of the dark,” she whispered. Palos stopped his inane babbling upon hearing the ice in her voice. Hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and his eyes must have bulged, for Trista’s demeanour softened upon seeing his reaction.
“Palos,” she said gently. He bumped into the back of the barn and raised his face to stare straight into her golden eyes. She stood bare centimetres from him.
How did she move so quick?
He could feel her warm breath on his face. His heart beat through his shirt.
“They are not what they seem,” she whispered. “They are….” A shattering explosion like the cracking of the earth split the relative silence of the barn and sent Palos to the ground. Shards of wood and shattered beams bounced along the floor. Palos squinted against the blazing light that washed over them and felt an unnatural heat.
He scrambled away and blinked the tears from his eyes, struggling to make sense of the scene. The barn was gone, and waves of fire poured towards them, bounding along the earth in great torrents.
The only thing that kept the fire at bay was a blue shimmering bubble. It encompassed him and…
Trista.
Trista stood over him, one arm outstretched towards their attacker, the other held back defensively over him. The fire cast her shape as a dark shadow. One that shook under the onslaught.
She took one step back and Palos saw a blue rune on her upper leg dwindle to nothing more than a scar as a white rune flared to life on her forearm. She flung the arm forward and the bubble vanished.
The heat washed over them, now in full force and Palos felt the air ripped from his lungs. There was another thunderous explosion and whatever of the barn had remained standing, collapsed. The force knocked Palos back to the ground and extinguished much of the fire.
Trista turned to him, sweat and strain evident on her face and in the silence that followed the tolling of the bell became clear. One they knew well, one that signified an attack.
Trista jumped away from Palos, her head snapping towards the academy as indistinguishable shouts grew closer.
“Yeiyen’s Mercy!” she mumbled, turning to face Palos. The curse itself enough to condemn her “Tell no one of the magic I taught you,” she grabbed him by his tunic and shook him. “Do you understand?!”
“Y…yes,” he managed weakly, still trying to grasp what was happening. She stopped shaking him.
“…and whatever you do, don’t die.” She planted a passionate kiss on his lips before releasing him. “I will find you again,” she said with an intenseness that shocked him.
She turned on her heels and ran, disappearing over the side of the mountain. Palos looked around dazed for a moment, then realization struck. He had just seen some form of magical combat. One in which the agent of The Dark had won.
He shuddered at the thought, her last words turning over in his head.
I will find you, again.
Then another thought struck him; the bell was still ringing. He staggered to his feet and out of the remains of the barn. The insistent ringing drove him on, and he wobbled as he tried to run up the steps. He barely managed to get out of the way as two teachers sprinted round the corner, passing him without so much as a nod.
Where are they going? Usually all would gather in the yard for something such as this.
His brain was struggling to work, and he felt dizzy from the ordeal.
Trista!
Absolution washed over him as he ran. He had been right; she truly was The Dark traitor amongst them.
The school and arrayed students came into view as he cleared the last step, though no one had come out to address them yet.
Good, I still have time.
He lurched through the other students and into his position. Perspiration clung to him, and he sought to wipe it from his face. He sucked air into his lungs and his head span. His heart continued to race, though no longer from the exertion.
Was this his time?
He thought. Had he gained the right to ascend now. As the last few students filed into place the doors of the school opened, though not with their usual slam but a gentle push. The Master came out flanked by two others, one was Careth, the other a massive mountain of a man hidden beneath a dark cloak. They moved to the bottom of the stairs together and stopped.
A wave of discomfort passed through the assembled students. Something was off. His usual manner was one of excitement, as if throwing children into the fens and dispensing punishments was as pleasurable as fine wine or great food.
A swift glare from those eyes silenced the uncertain murmurs, but it was already out there now, the winds of change were coming, but what had caused it. Palos licked his lips in anticipation and naturally glanced to the left where Trista stood.
Had stood.
Her spot was empty now and instead of the excitement he usually felt, there was a twisted knot in his chest.
The Master cleared his throat as if all eyes weren’t already on him.
“I bring you all dire tidings, for what has happened today has not happened in the history of this academy.” Another wave of murmurs passed through the students and was quickly silenced with another glare. “One who wanted to bring about the destruction of our ways, a servant of Yieyen, infiltrated our school and sought to learn our secrets. Their presence itself spreads toxicity and corruption, and had it not been for the actions of one student she would have succeeded.”
Palos held his breath in anticipation.
“Palos, please step forward!” He felt the blood thumping through his head and struggled to concentrate.
This is it!
He realised he had not moved. Several nearby students were looking at him, waiting. He lurched from the line, legs shaky, and made his way forward. Careth graced him with a gentle smile that put him at ease.
“This fine student had the inner strength to turn away from that dark path. To report their agent. For the words she spoke were as poison.”
That’s not how it happened…
Palos puzzled but kept the emotion from his face. The Master lowered his eyes to meet his. “Thank you, Palos. You have earned the right to ascend today.”
Relief and excitement threatened to overwhelm him. He bowed awkwardly in return and felt the weight of years of anxiety and worry fall from his shoulders. Careth indicated he should come and stand next to him as The Master continued to speak. The elderly man rested a hand on his shoulder and squeezed reassuringly.
“… there are many that seek to act against us, and target us, for you all will become the feathers that tips the scale of many things in this world. There are those out there that would wish you not to be here. For this reason, additional instructors will be present in the school. They are here to remain vigilant and protect us should it come to that.”
He gestured to the back of the square and for the first time Palos saw a group of twelve figures in dark cloaks, standing in a loose formation. A man appeared from the stairs that led down to the farming fields and made his way straight for The Master, stopping to whisper in his ear.
Palos tilted his head as he watched the man, then it dawned on him.
He passed me on the stairs, running down to the…
His chest tightened as he watched The Masters’ smile widen into a grin.
“I have just been informed that the traitor Trista Elmshadow, has been apprehended trying to flee the grounds and for her dark thoughts and words is being taken to the Path of the Forlorn, as we speak.” Another wave of muttering passed through the crowd. This time The Master let it before raising his hand to bring silence.
The Path of the Forlorn! No, Trista.
Palos clutched his chest and felt the emptiness eclipse the joy of his ascension.
Why do I feel like this? She was an agent of The Dark. She was a traitor. She would have led you astray. She would have killed you.
He repeated, trying to alleviate the feeling that had settled on him. He felt it like the breaking of a chain and his breath came quickly. The guilt threatened to overwhelm him. Another squeeze on his shoulder brought him back to the moment and Careth smiled down at him once again.
He took several deep breaths and felt his heart rate slow, though those feelings and thoughts still lurked in the recesses of his mind. The Master continued to speak of changes to the school as a reaction to the infiltration.
“…And finally, as of tomorrow you will have a new Master.” Jaws dropped all around, as none there had ever known another Master. “I have other duties that must be fulfilled, and my current role will be replaced by Master Hendal.” He swept his arm around towards the mysterious figure to his right. The man removed his cloak and revealed pale white eyes that stood out against his dark skin.
Palos swore he felt the ground shake with each of the mans’ footsteps. His height exceeded The Masters’ by another two feet and the audible gulp of several of the students reached his ears.
He stopped before them and grinned at the students, his white teeth splitting his dark countenance.
“Thank you, Master,” his voice was a deep baritone and it rumbled through the amassed students. “It is a great honour to take ownership of this school. I will review the classes and make some changes as I see fit, but for now, things will remain the same.” He turned to Palos for a moment and nodded his head in acknowledgement.
“You have done well, Apprentice Palos,” his accent slurred his name slightly, “your exposure of a dark agent should be what all here aspire too and I wish you luck on your ascension.” Palos hesitated before bowing to the giant of a man.
Together the teachers turned and re-entered the school, The Master matched the big man’s stride and the new instructors hurried along behind. Careth gave Palos a final squeeze on the shoulder and followed. The big doors slammed shut and the students were once again left without supervision.
Some burst into life, talking hurriedly amongst themselves, others stood in silence, trying to discern whether the news of a new Master would be ill or not. Several crowded Palos, patting him on the back and offering congratulations, though Palos barely noticed, his thoughts elsewhere.
He half-heartedly thanked those, his mind turning to the mountain and what awaited. Since the earliest days of his life in this school it had been a source of mystery. Never were they to go near it for fear of punishment and now it held the path that led to his ascension. The students around him soon dispersed but some still stood, whether in disbelief or fear of what the future would bring he did not know.
He gathered himself and set off. Though he had never trod the path he knew it well. A small squat stone house, nestled deep within the pine forest marked its beginning. The building, like the mountain, was off limits for all but those with the right to ascend.
It took about half an hour to reach the house along the thin stoned path that led from the back of the school. Several passers-by had wished him well, though he had been too much in his head to notice, answering their well wishes with a nod and a thin smile.
The old wooden door of the house had a simple latch and as he reached for the handle, his heart pounded with excitement. The tempo of unknowable adventures. The door swung easily open, with the long creak of rust on old hinges. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the darkness and he peered around at the dim, windowless room.
Several hooks hung along each wall, all bearing a simple bag and a carved staff.
“Take one and go,” a voice came from the shadows, deep and grinding and Palos jumped with a suppressed yelp. He sought the source only to find the shadows shifting around the corner of the darkened room. He peered deep into it and for the briefest moment it resolved itself into an elongated humanoid shape before dissipating once again.
A tiny point of light appeared in the dark, like a luminescent snowflake drifting amongst the shadows. As suddenly as it appeared it vanished, and the wind began to stir behind Palos. He felt it pushing gently at his back before it took on more urgency, blowing him into the house and staggering him.
“Take one and go,” the bitter voice echoed through the wind. An unnatural chill that sent shivers down his spine. He all but ran to the nearest pack, pulling it on and taking up the staff. His eyes never left the flailing shadows that watched, formless and oozing malice.
The wind’s fury grew, and he shielded his eyes as the whistling became something akin to a scream. A door slammed open at the back of the hut, and Palos made for it without hesitation.
Passing through it was like entering a portal, back out into the gentle afternoon. Its light almost blinding after the dark of the cottage. The door of the building slammed shut behind him with a click and the wind ceased.
Palos stared at the door, perplexed at the interaction. The cottage once again resembled its former self. A nondescript building that all but faded into the nearby pine trees. He tried to process the events as his feet unconsciously carried him along the easily marked trail.
Every time Palos tried to call up the image of the being, a bitter chill eased into his body sapping his focus and filling his mind with dark thoughts.
Palos knew shadowed creatures were real, coming in many flavours and variety, though to find one here was beyond strange, and if it was a shadow creature, he had been lucky to escape.
Palos shook his head
Not escape. I was let go.
The more he considered it the more he realised it must have been placed there to stop any but those authorised from ascending.
An extreme consequence for a simple infraction. If someone was to…
The thought struck him like a falling rock and his foot caught a root. He stumbled and fell to the hard packed earth, coming to a stop beside a tree trunk.
…people had disappeared. They had been at evening roll call and not appeared in the morning.
He thought about times when someone had just vanished from their class, never to be heard from, or mentioned again. Like the breaking of a small dam, more distant memories trickled through his mind, and he shivered, though not from cold.
How many had it killed?
He rolled to gain his feet, eager to put as many footsteps between him and the cottage as possible. Palos adjusted his bag and sharp pain flared in his back. He reached around seeking the source of his discomfort, his hand returning with a smooth obsidian stone.
“Blackstone…” The word triggered a montage of fresh memories he forcibly suppressed.
How did it get there?
He turned it over, stroking it between his fingers. It formed a perfect oval, its rounded corners most likely worn smooth from running water. Light danced deep within, and he clenched the stone tightly, his hand shaking from the strain. Palos suppressed a powerful urge to throw it into the forest as he looked around, seeking an answer to this mystery.
His only reply was the rustle of branches under a gentle breeze. He tucked it into his pack and pushed it from his mind, continuing on.
The mountain loomed before him, and it cast a very long shadow.
