19. Chapter Nineteen

I was studying in the Biblyos one afternoon, entirely engrossed in my notes when suddenly, I felt a gentle peck at my left hand.

I blinked twice before processing the fact that a small raven was now resting atop my stack of tomes, looking at me expectantly with strangely intelligent eyes. It tapped its tiny foot, where a small scroll of parchment was tied up with twine. I unraveled it to find a note that had to be from none other than Kieran.

I’m terribly bored, Little Conduit. What are you up to?

The raven continued to rest atop my books, waiting. It was staring at me as if it knew to anticipate a response. How did a bird even get in here? I sighed, rummaging through my satchel to pull out a pen.

I’m studying. How did you even know where to find me? This isn’t helping your case against being a stalker, you know.

Upon receipt of the parchment with my scribbled response, the raven simply disappeared into a puff of smoke and Shadow. Well, that explained it. That wasn’t a bird at all, it was a mail sprite—a conjured bit of complex arcane energy, summoned by Conduits to deliver correspondence within the city. Some sprites were even powerful enough to take letters across the continent, though often that sort of spellwork would cost you.

They usually weren’t quite so realistic-looking, often more semi-corporeal and elemental in nature, but Kieran was clearly a man with an eye for detail. That sort of thing took a great deal of power and finesse, though… I could practically taste the aether in the air when the raven returned.

There’s a chance that I looked up your aetheric signature in the Archives. Wanna go on an adventure?

Gods, the audacity of this man. At least that saved me the trouble of seeking him out for lunch, though. It would seem that the interest was mutual… though that hardly excused the literal crime of pulling up private information from my files in the Archives. Rolling my eyes, I tore off another scrap of parchment to send my reply.

That seems like a gross misuse of administrative power, Captain. And as exciting as that sounds, I have class soon.

Poof. The mail sprite was back within moments, as if he was waiting on my replies with bated breath.

Skip. I’ll make it worth your while.

I bit my lip, praying to the Source that I wasn’t blushing at his phrasing. That damned man had a way of making even the most perfectly mundane sentence sound intimate.

Aren’t you supposed to be some sort of authority figure around here? Should you really be the one to suggest that I start breaking the rules and blowing off my education?

Five or ten minutes must have passed before I received a response. I couldn’t help but fidget in anticipation, paying very little attention to the notes I was skimming. He had spoiled me with such quick responses earlier, and I hated how eager I already was to hear back.

Breaking the rules can be fun every now amp; again.

Seriously? He made me wait that long for yet another vague one-liner? I swore under my breath and attempted to shake off his idle distractions. I had work to do, and sure, maybe I was already ahead in this course, but that was no reason to skip my lectures on the whims of a handsome stranger.

“Shoo,” I murmured to the mail sprite, flicking my hand through its tiny, false raven effigy with a flicker of Light, causing it to dissipate back into Shadow.

“Now that was just rude,” a low, velvety voice murmured from the stacks beside me. Lo and behold, the aforementioned handsome stranger was slinking towards me with a feline sort of grace and a cocksure grin.

“Besides,” he continued. “Something tells me that you don’t always follow the rules, now do you, Little Conduit?”

I gave him a withering look as I glanced up from my notes. Regardless of our prior encounter in the jail cell, he had no idea how accurate that statement was.

“Yeah, didn’t think so,” Kieran said, reading my expression for what it actually was. Interest. “So… How about a field trip?”

“You’re a menace,” I groaned, silently cursing the Fates. I didn’t have the willpower to resist this man in person.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You take everything as a compliment, you cocky bastard.”

His answering grin was admittedly infectious.

“Fine,” I conceded. One missed lecture wasn’t going to kill me. “Where are we going?”

“A museum,” Kieran replied simply.

You’ve gotta be kidding me.

“Seriously, Vistarii? Your idea of rebellion is to have me skip class… to go to a museum?”

Truth be told, I was delighted. I loved museums. I loved the study of history and arts and all the stories one could unravel from within the archives. But the fact that this was his idea of an adventure as well? This was how he wanted to spend his time off? That’s what caught me off guard.

“It’s a quiet sort of rebellion, I will admit,” he mused, tapping his chin.

I just stared at him incredulously for a moment.

“Just trust me on this one, Little Conduit. Allow me to be your tour guide for the day—I have a feeling you’ll like what I have to show you.”

I had a feeling I’d like damn near anything this man had to show me.

Fucking Fates, Arken. Get it together.

Thank the gods that Shadow Conduits weren’t mind readers. I pictured myself being doused with cold water just to calm down before responding.

“Lead the way, then, Captain.”

I wasn’t sure what to expect as Kieran led me through the bustling streets of the Academic Quarter, away from the Biblyos and towards the center of the city.

Though I peppered him with questions along the way—What kind of museum? Didn’t he have anything better to do? And just how in the Hel did he find my aetheric signature so easily?—the man gave nothing away.

“Just trust me,” he said again. “I’m taking you to one of my favorite places in the city.”

Ten minutes later, we arrived at a tall building, several stories higher than those in our immediate surroundings, though it was still white limestone, much like the rest of the buildings in this quarter.

I struggled to make out the letters carved into the marble facade above the large entryway, as they were written in a very flowery iteration of the ancient Elder script.

“It’s the Museum of Arcane History,” Kieran supplied.

“Wait, can you read Aetheric?”

“I can, actually,” he replied.

Of course he could.

“But in this case, I just know the names of almost every building in this quarter. I know most of this city like the back of my hand.”

“Did you grow up in Sophrosyne?”

Kieran glanced away for a moment, suddenly interested in the grit underneath his fingernails.

“Nah, I grew up in Pyrhhas, but very close by. And I’ve lived here for… Gods, I think it’s been five years now? Maybe six.”

“Ah, okay.”

Only five or six years, and already a captain of the Elder Guard. There was more to Kieran’s story, it seemed. Much more. I resisted the urge to pepper him with further questions as he led me down a series of halls. Instead, I turned my attention back to my surroundings. He seemed a bit closed off about his past, and I could respect that. I had my own secrets, after all. Things that I preferred to keep close to the chest.

“It’s rather empty, isn’t it?” I observed. I could hear our footsteps echo, but not much else.

“That’s why it’s one of my favorite places in the city,” he explained. “For whatever reason, this museum doesn’t see much foot traffic during the week.”

“I wonder why not,” I mused, thinking out loud.

“I’m not sure, actually,” Kieran said with a shrug. “But it does make for a nice place to unwind after a long day.”

“Aw, have you had a long day, Captain? It’s barely noon,” I teased, glancing toward a room that looked to be filled with old globes, maps and star charts.

As I started towards it, Kieran caught me by the hand—and I felt my breath catch in my chest. There was something about the sensation of it, the warmth. I hadn’t really been touched by anyone in… quite some time. In those scant few seconds, I memorized the roughness of his calloused fingers as they’d wrapped around mine. The sensation was lovely, and it left me wondering what they might feel like against my cheek.

“This way first,” he said, interrupting my reverie and nodding his head towards a hall to the left.

Wordlessly, I let go of his hand and followed him into a large, seemingly empty room that was absolutely flooded with natural light pouring in from the skylights above. It was only when we’d made our way into the center of the room that I realized it wasn’t empty at all—but rather, the walls were the exhibit here. It was one massive, sweeping mural.

I strained my eyes again, attempting to read the plaque that was, again, carved in Aetheric.

“The… Mur… Mural, I’d assume, so… The Mural…” I murmured under my breath.

“They call it the Mural of Creation,” Kieran offered. “It’s the Elder’s depiction of the universe.”

Oh. Wow.

I took several steps towards the wall in front of us, marveling at the whorls of color, the elegant brush strokes that had somehow captured the beauty of the cosmos—not in an exact sort of way, but the artist had somehow managed to capture the essence of the night sky as the backdrop to several scenes. I tilted my head back just enough to take in the full picture, having been immediately distracted by details.

“It’s… the Source…” I breathed.

Kieran nodded, taking it all in beside me.

“Some of the Elders depicted it as this massive cluster of silver crystals, others shaped it more as an entity, a divine feminine form, if you will,” he explained quietly.

In this case, the artist had chosen both.

An ethereal looking female figure with eyes of pure silver sat atop a veritable mountain of what appeared to be crystalline aether—faceted with glimmering iridescence. A quicksilver liquid spilled from her cupped hands, the streams of pure aether parting and weaving throughout the rest of the mural with such painstaking intricacy. As if they were the very threads of fate.

It was the most stunning work of art I had ever seen in my life.

“Incredible, isn’t it?” Kieran said, still speaking softly even though we were the only ones in the room. There was something odd in the tone of his voice, though. Something unexpected.

It was admiration, I realized as I nodded in agreement. It was reverence.

Despite living in an era of relative peace, there was no denying that Kieran was a soldier. He carried himself with that lethal grace, and clearly bore scars to prove what he’d survived over the years.

But beneath the surface… I could’ve sworn that I saw glimmers of an artist. I caught glimpses of a man who valued beauty, and creation. Whether that was because of the bloodshed he’d witnessed over the years, or in spite of it—I wasn’t sure yet. But it fascinated me all the same.

Hefascinated me.

“Do you know that the Aetherborne don’t believe in reincarnation?” Kieran inquired.

“They don’t?”

That was news to me. It was the most widely-accepted theory among humans—that our spirits would return to the Source of All Life alongside our aether, allowing us to be born anew in the next cycle of rebirth. I was surprised to hear that the gods disagreed. Those cyclical concepts of growth and decay—that inherent need for balance preserved—it was all practically embedded in the laws of arcane science.

“They do not,” Kieran confirmed. “At least, that’s what the history texts claim. They say it’s how the concept of the Fates was born.”

As I turned to look at him, his eyes continued to roam across the mural. There was a certain sort of… nostalgia in that glacial gaze of his now, as if Kieran was recollecting a familiar old story.

“Tell me more?” I requested, my voice coming out a bit breathier than I’d intended, exposing the fact that I was hanging on every word. The corners of his mouth curled upward, though he kept his eyes affixed to the painting.

“It’s uncertain whether or not this applies to humankind, but the Elders at least seem to believe that they themselves do not reincarnate. The theory of the Fates predates that of rebirth,” he explained. “Because back before the Cataclysm, it was quite rare for an Aetherborne to die.”

I nodded, my eyes drifting back to the whorling patterns and brush strokes.

“So rare, in fact, that they would dedicate certain patterns in the stars to the fallen to honor their names—the constellations. But it went beyond symbolism for those ancient Aetherborne, I think. They believed that as beings of pure aether, while their bodies were immediately absorbed by the Source, that their souls would remain among the stars above.”

I felt a sharp, familiar tingle at the tip of my nose, the one that always meant I had tears welling up in my eyes. I tried to blink them back, embarrassed.

“And so their fallen brethren would find new purpose,” Kieran continued. “As celestial beings, ascending beyond the heavens. It’s said that from there, they could reach the Source herself, weaving her threads of Fate to guide the paths of the living by her will. Watching over Aemos for an eternity.”

I thought of the Cataclysm, the Awakening, and the Aetherborne’s sacrifices. How many souls they must believe still watch over us all, thanks to that fateful day alone. Again, I had to blink back tears, feeling oddly emotional about it all.

“That’s somehow both beautiful and terrifying,” I admitted after a few moments of shared silence. “The notion of… eternal protectors. The thought that the Fates might actually be real.”

At some point, I realized, Kieran had taken his eyes off the mural. He’d been watching me, instead. But there was no judgment to be found on his face as I brushed the stray tear back with my knuckles—just a soft smile. A gentle understanding.

“Yeah,” Kieran said after a slow exhale. “Yeah, it really is.”

We spent the remainder of the afternoon on a lighter note, meandering through the quiet halls as Kieran guided me towards exhibits of interest. It was a massive building, though—by the time the sun began to set, I think I’d only managed to see a quarter of what they had on display.

So much history, so much knowledge, so many artifacts and slices of the past, preserved. It was astounding.

As we left the museum, though, an uncomfortable anxiousness started gnawing at the back of my mind.

Kieran had called this little excursion an “adventure,” and it had been a good one. Truthfully, the entire day had been lovely—but did he consider our little adventure to be a date? Because it could easily have been interpreted that way, and even though I was painfully attracted to the man… I also really didn’t want to lead him on. It wasn’t fair. I had to say something.

“Hey, Kieran?”

“Mm?”

“I really enjoyed today. But… before we spend any more time together, can I just ask you something?”

“Go for it,” he replied easily, flipping a single gold coin that he’d drawn from his pocket.

“Are you okay with keeping things platonic between us?”

For a moment, Kieran looked oddly taken aback, as if he hadn’t expected this conversation at all.

“I mean, I’m sure you don’t get this a lot, huh?” I laughed nervously. “It’s nothing personal, I just… I don’t think I’m ready to settle into anything serious right now. My whole world just expanded in a flash, practically overnight—but I really enjoy your company and—”

“Arken,” Kieran interjected. “Hush. You don’t have to explain yourself. Honestly, you just saved me from an awkward conversation that I wasn’t looking forward to. I don’t really do the whole… relationship thing,” he explained.

It wasn’t lost on me how he’d said the word relationship with clear disdain, but looked almost apologetic about that as his glacial eye searched my face for a reaction.

“I would like to be your friend, though. I don’t really do that much, either… But for you, I think I’ll have to make an exception.”

I felt all of the tension I’d been holding in my shoulders melt down, ignoring the smallest part of me that felt disappointed. Still, I exhaled in relief. That was significantly easier than I expected.

“I do still need a tour guide,” I mused, fluffing my hair and trying to maintain the casual energy he’d so graciously provided for us.

“Oh, I am an excellent tour guide, just you wait.”

And there it was again. There was a certain lightness, an ease Kieran brought into every conversation, and I found myself craving it. The comfort of being understood.

“I do have to ask, though,” he said with a sly half-smile creeping up one side of his face. “Is it because I’m terribly ugly?”

I barked out a laugh. “Oh, shut up, you preening peacock. You know damn well how attractive you are.”

“Even pretty men enjoy a good stroke to the ego every now and again,” the cheeky bastard replied with a wink. “Among other things.”

“Platonic,” I reminded him.

“What? You can give platonic handjobs. I’ve given plenty of them.”

I resisted the urge to ask for details.

“In your dreams, Vistarii.”

“Perhaps,” he grinned. “You’re not half bad yourself, Asher. I’m pretty sure you’ll be giving me a run for my money on disappointing all the men in Sophrosyne soon enough.”

“And women,” I added.

“Oh?” he raised a brow and his grin widened. “We’ll just add that to the list of things we have in common, Little Conduit.”

That list of his was growing rather fast.