25. Chapter Twenty-Five

Today’s lecture in Arcane Theory was hitting a little too close to home.

The subject matter at hand? The difference between human Resonance and the magick of the Aetherborne.

“It has yet to be determined whether the difference is primarily physiological, or if it’s more based in the compatibility of the magicks themselves, but one thing has been proven: The human form cannot sustain itself on aether alone,” the scholar droned on.

It was once theorized that the only limitation on human Resonance was the amount of aether we held in our bodies. Unlike the gods, we needed blood to live—our hearts and organs relied on the more mundane, organic fluid as a means to transport oxygen, circulate nutrients, and carry away the waste products of our slowly decomposing bodies.

It was a bit morbid to think about it that way—but that was the primary difference between the humans and the Aetherborne, was it not? Their flesh was eternal, their bodies did not age or degrade with the passing of time, and no blood ran through their veins—only aether.

“Any questions thus far?” the scholar inquired.

Several hands shot up, and she started calling on individuals from the amphitheater. I kept taking my notes, but my ears perked up at a certain query.

“Are there any theories as to why humans can only attune to one element? Resonant mortals have less aether in our bodies than the gods, but it’s still pure aether, is it not? In such a circumstance, shouldn’t we just have the same range of power as the Aetherborne, but to a lessened extent?”

“Ah, an excellent consideration. Does anyone here know the answer?”

The room fell silent, so apparently not.

“The more popular theory, of course, is that Resonance is impacted by genetics. Perhaps the first generation of humans had been impacted by random chance, but it became more predictable over time. We have clear examples of family lines producing the same Resonances over generations, with the most noteworthy being the ruling families of the Courts,” she explained.

This was true. It was also how each territory became somewhat synonymous with a certain element of aether: Samhaven and the House of Torrents, Vindyrst and the House of Gales, Ithreac and the House of Clay, Pyrhhas and the House of Embers, Luxtos amp; Stygos—the Astral amp; Umbral Isles, and the House of Light amp; Shadow.

“The second theory takes into account the more random nature of some Resonant births, and has us consider the possibility that when a child is born with enough aether in their veins to be Resonant, there is a certain developmental period where their Resonance has yet to be determined. This theory purports that a Resonant attunes to the strongest density of aetheric energy that they encounter first during that period of aetheric maturity.”

That seemed like a weaker argument, though. Perhaps one developed to excuse streaks of infidelity among the ruling Houses, but what did I know?

“Both theories, of course, rely on the base concept that the ratio of blood to aether is what limits us to a single element, which is all but proven at this point.”

Something about that explanation didn’t entirely add up, but before I could start to mull over why it wasn’t sitting right in my brain, my train of thought was interrupted.

“But what about the legend of the Harbingers?” A young male student interrupted. Merrick, I think his name was.

Harbingers?

The younger Conduit’s eyes were wide and fearful as he continued on. “I mean, according to the Irrosi, a mortal could be born with the power of the gods! But when that happens, it’s supposed to be a sign of the end of days, right? Because it would break all the laws of arcane science, disrupt the balance, and trigger a second Cataclysm. A single Harbinger could kill us all.”

My stomach lurched. It’s just a story, I reminded myself. Just a stupid legend that you’ve never even heard of.

And he was probably exaggerating. Embellishing.

“Such things would be better discussed in a cultural history or anthropology course, Merrick. We do not study myths and legends here, only science,” the scholar said firmly.

“Apologies, ma’am.”

The damage had been done, though. I struggled to pay attention to the rest of the lecture, and found myself getting increasingly frustrated with my wandering mind. Amaretta would be reeling to know that I put any sort of stock into some old Irrosi wives tale, but I couldn’t help but feel spooked—haunted by even the slightest of chances...

Because every legend had its origin, every tall tale carried some kernel of truth, some spark of inspiration that was anchored in reality. Such was the nature of storytelling.

So what if there was some truth there? Was I that dangerous? Did my parents know? Is that why they left me behind in the woods that night? Could it be possible that my parents knew what I was, and just couldn’t bring themselves to save the world? Was that why they had abandoned me out there in the wilderness? In hopes that someone—or something—else might do it for them?

I shook my head and took a deep breath, trying to let go of the paranoid and intrusive thoughts. I could always look into the legend later, find more tangible evidence or context to soothe my nerves.

Thankfully, the remainder of the lecture resumed free of any more damning theories about my existence.

My classes wrapped up for the day around half past three, which left me with a bit of a conundrum.

Kieran told me to meet him at four, and the Elder Guard headquarters were about ten minutes away from the lecture hall. My apartment was about twenty minutes in the opposite direction, though, if I wanted to drop off my things and freshen up. I was essentially trapped between being awkward and early, or late—and I hated being late to anything. I sighed, really wishing that I’d thought ahead.

Why, though? Who are you even trying to impress?

I cringed at the internalized snark, realizing that even though Kieran and I had agreed to keep things platonic, I still found myself wanting to impress him. I was going to have to get over that sooner or later.

It didn’t help that I hadn’t been with anyone else since arriving in Sophrosyne. I had flirted, had a few close encounters at the tavern once or twice, even exchanged a kiss or two with pretty strangers in the city. But I hadn’t slept with anyone since Graysen. I had barely even thought about Grays since leaving the Brindlewoods, and we had broken up long before I left for Sophrosyne, so to say that I was in a bit of a dry spell was an understatement. That explained a lot.

I was able to find the guard headquarters without issue, and had been about to seek someone out to direct me to Kieran’s office when, speak of the daemon, I heard his voice booming from the grassy fields behind the main building.

“Again!” he shouted, and I followed the sound to find where he was training a group of younger looking men and women—fresh recruits, I’d presume.

I settled in on a nearby bench, content to flip through my notes and steal glances at them all glistening with sweat in the midday sun. Kieran smiled when he caught my eye a few minutes after I’d arrived, glancing towards the clock tower with a raised brow. You’re early, he mouthed. I shrugged and nodded towards my textbook to indicate I didn’t mind waiting, but he still jogged over in between a round of sprints.

“Hey you.”

“Hey,” I replied with a smile. “Class ended early today, but I’m in no rush. Is it alright if I just hang out here until you guys wrap up?”

“Yeah, of course. I think you might be distracting my recruits though,” he said, still breathing hard. It seemed like he often joined his trainees in whatever drills he was running them through, and I wondered if that was expected… or just Kieran being Kieran.

“Ah yes, distracting them with my feminine wiles,” I replied sarcastically, glancing behind his shoulder where a small gaggle of prospective guardsmen were indeed standing together, eyeing us both, and giving each other slight nudges.

“Exactly those. It does give me an excuse to make them work harder, though,” he grinned. “Speaking of which, please hold.”

I raised a brow.

“If you’ve got time to ogle her, you’ve got time for another lap!” he shouted across the field, his voice taking on a low rumble of authority. “Get on it, freshlings!”

I bit my lip, trying not to laugh. At least I wasn’t the only one who got assigned dumb nicknames, though I had a feeling that my other one was a little more exclusive.

“It’s gonna be about another twenty minutes or so here, and then I’ll clean up and we’ll head out, okay? Hang tight. Your academic education will resume shortly, Little Conduit.”

Yeah, that nickname. It had sort of grown on me over time, though. I’d found the diminutive irritating at first, but these days it felt friendly and affectionate, and only made me blush sometimes—depending on how he said it and in what context.

I also couldn’t help but notice the way Kieran’s voice softened into a husky rasp when he was directing it towards me instead of the recruits… but maybe that was just because he was out of breath.

“I’ll be here,” I chirped cheerfully.

As he jogged back towards the center of the field, I attempted to return back to my texts, reviewing the notes I had taken on the theory of arcane fractals and opposing aetherflows.

The key word there being attempted. I found it fairly difficult to focus on my academia as Kieran shrugged off his uniform jacket, revealing the black sleeveless top he wore underneath and the way it hugged his torso.

I was only human. Given the choice between the intricacies of the aetheric spectrum and the deep golden tan of the scouting captain’s muscled arms—now freely exposed and glistening with sweat as he dropped to the ground and held himself in a plank position…

I was going to look respectfully.

He was instructing his recruits to mirror his pose, counting down from sixty. My abs hurt just watching them. Just when I felt like this couldn’t get any more distracting, Kieran hopped back up to his feet with an irritating degree of effortlessness and grace.

“Keep it up!” he called out with that same sharp, authoritative tone.

I had to admire the nuance he was able to command among his men, because while there was no doubt an aura of seniority and leadership that he carried about him at work, he was also encouraging and respectful. You could tell that he was pushing these recruits to challenge them, not to break their spirit. That wasn’t always the case when it came to people in positions of power, and I admired him for it.

Though speaking of admiration…

I swallowed hard as Kieran stretched one arm behind his back, biceps flexing. He was still watching his recruits as they held their planks with pained expressions, but I was watching him.

What struck me first was how much of his tattoos were visible now that he had taken off his jacket. Even from a distance, the dark black ink embedded in his sun-bronzed skin was a stark and mysterious contrast. The strange, jagged markings peeked out beneath his shirt, appearing to cover the entirety of his right shoulder blade at least, creeping up one side of his neck. If I had to guess, it was some kind of script... but with so much more of Kieran on display right now, I could not be bothered to wrack my brain to guess the language.

My gaze drifted over him lazily, and I realized that his trousers had slipped down dangerously low on his hips. That skin-tight undershirt of his was riding up just enough that I could see… Gods, I could see a lot. Too much. This was just rude, really. Had he been carved out of fucking marble?

I really should’ve just looked away, but instead I was hungrily studying the toned dips of his hip flexor muscles, and that thin trail of black hair traveling from his navel to… well. Lower.

Fates above, I needed to stop staring. As I quickly glanced back up and attempted to recover, Kieran caught my eye… and winked.

Fucking Hel.

That man was a menace to society.