5. Chapter Five

The warmth of whatever liquid I had just swallowed was coating my throat like a syrup, but aside from that physical sensation, I didn’t feel any different as I entered the next room… until I saw them.

By the Fates.

Seventeen… Eighteen… Nineteen. I sucked in a breath. All nineteen of the Aetherborne were here today.

Apparently, that was not always the case. The Elders did not often leave Sophrosyne, but they would travel overseas on occasion. You only really needed one Aetherborne to approve your entry to the Arcane Studium. Because of this, I had almost been bracing myself for disappointment, half-expecting to meet a few of the Elders at most. But nineteen pairs of glowing eyes were staring me down as I walked into the Hall of the Seeing.

“Welcome, Arken Asher,” a sweet, melodic voice called out from the center of the dais where all nineteen Elders sat before me.

There was an unfamiliar lilt present in her voice, an accent that I couldn’t quite place. A female Aetherborne, one I presumed to be the Speaker, beckoned me forward with long, pale fingers adorned with ornate silver rings.

I proceeded forward with delicate steps against shimmering white tile until I reached the very center of the room, where the symbol of the city-state was inlaid in gold. Six circles overlapped one another, and each represented an element of aether, with a seventh circle in the center connecting them all in representation of the Source itself. Together, they formed what almost appeared to be a flower with six petals in the center, not unlike the white lilies that grew naturally all over the continent. It was also known as the Seed of Creation, and it was the official emblem of Sophrosyne and the Arcane Studium—both of which were synonymous with the Aetherborne themselves.

I personally recognized it as the silver tattoo on the inside of Amaretta’s left wrist, which had faded with age but still glowed gently from time to time. If all went well, I would soon bear that same mark that would identify me as a Conduit.

Upon arrival to the center of the room, I lifted my gaze upon the dais before me where the Aetherborne sat in silence.

All nineteen of the gods had titles specific to their roles within the Convocation and their arcane specialties, if I could recall correctly, though the details of what they all could do had been obscured over time. I had a feeling they preferred things that way.

The Speaker, the Oracle, the Priestess, Justice, Temperance—I had seen them all depicted in paintings and etchings in books, and yet nothing could have captured their breathtaking, ethereal forms as they appeared before me now.

“I am the Speaker,” the woman in the very center confirmed, her voice a pleasant song. It was so lovely, easy to listen to, and almost as entrancing as her beauty.

The Speaker was tall and slender, as they all were, with pale porcelain skin and long, pointed ears that peeked out behind thick waves of silver-white hair. She wore a complimenting sleeveless white gown made out of layered panels of sheer, semi-iridescent Irrosi silk, cinched at the waist with a silver cord and a broach that mirrored the symbol beneath my feet. Her eyes were such a pale blue that they appeared almost as silver as her hair with the wisps of aether flowing behind each iris, creating that otherworldly glow.

Gods, she was like pure aether. As the stunning immortal spoke, I could see her elongated canines flash and glint in the light, and felt myself shiver.

When I was younger, I thought that the stories of the gods having fangs was an embellished detail designed to scare children and remind us of their power. It was true, though. Those teeth were sharp as Hel and must have served some predatory purpose in an age long past. I should have probably found them fearsome for that reason, but they were actually rather pretty, in a dangerous sort of way.

I had always been attracted to danger.

They were all so entirely stunning. It was both enchanting and suffocating to stand before them in my plain mortality.

“We welcome you to Sophrosyne, young Resonant.”

“Thank you kindly, Speaker. I appreciate your time and consideration.”

Amaretta had instructed me to carry myself with grace and formality before the Elders without being overly reverential, and though I was so nervous that I thought I might faint, I somehow managed to speak the words clearly.

“What brings you to Sophrosyne, young one? What is it that you hope to seek from the Arcane Studium?”

That felt like a loaded question, though that was probably the point.

“Knowledge. Insight. Growth,” I answered honestly, unsure of how specific they wanted me to get here. For a moment, I felt slightly lightheaded. The Speaker’s lips curled into a slight smile.

“You may be seated at any time, should you need it,” she said, gesturing to a small bench behind me that I hadn’t noticed before. I nodded.

“And what is the nature of the knowledge and growth that you seek here, Resonant?”

As I could not tell her the full truth, I decided to go with... truth-adjacent.

“In all honesty, Speaker, I do not yet know the answer to that question. Having been raised by a retired scholar, I know there is a wealth of knowledge here, far beyond my current understanding of the world. I grew up in the woods, and so I come eager to learn, but without any one specific path in mind. All I know at the moment is that I would like to strengthen my Resonance, learn arcana, and hope to see where the rest takes me.”

“Ah yes, your Resonance…” she mused softly after nodding along with the rest of my explanation. “It has been quite some time, by mortal standards, since a potential Light Conduit stood before us. Several decades, I believe. Am I correct, Alexei?”

The male Aetherborne to her left, dark-skinned with wine-red eyes, nodded slowly. If I could recall correctly, the god she referred to as Alexei was known as The Archivist. He was just as stunning as the Speaker and the rest of the Convocation. It was becoming quite clear to me why there were still some mortals who looked upon our living ancestors and saw divinity.

“Twenty two years,” he said, voice slow and thick like honey.

A coincidence, I told myself. Just an odd coincidence.

“The pursuit of knowledge for the sake of knowledge is a path we honor and respect, and you need not justify it. We are pleased to see another Lightbearer seek entry to the Arcane Studium.”

There was that term again—or was it a title? Lightbearer. One of the other Resonants on the ship had called me that, but I was unfamiliar with the origin.

“Tell me, Arken,” the Speaker continued. “At what age did your Resonance manifest?”

“I was just about twelve when it first appeared.”

An instinctive lie. It had manifested much earlier than that. I offered a silent prayer to the Source, willing that the Speaker wouldn’t be able to detect the untruth.

“And how old are you now?”

“Twenty-two.”

The Archivist exchanged a glance with the Speaker, as they too noticed the coincidental timing of my birth and the last known arrival of a Light Conduit. I tucked that observation in the back of my mind for future research. Perhaps it wasn’t quite a coincidence, if the gods themselves took note of such things.

Seemingly out of nowhere, that strange sense of lightheadedness returned in waves, and I had to blink a few times to steady myself, shifting weight from one foot to the other.

“And you have been able to access Light ever since the first manifestation?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

A light, sparkling laugh fell from her lips.

“Oh, you are far more polite than some of your peers have been today. It is comforting to know that at least some of our children retain their manners. You may call me by name if you wish, young wise one. I am known as Elura; the Speaker and the Eleventh Elder of the Convocation.”

I dipped my head in a slight bow.

“It is an honor,” I breathed.

When I raised my head again, my eyes wandered over the other eighteen members of the Convocation, all of whom continued to sit in silence and perfect stillness as Elura spoke. Every last one of them gazed back, studying me intently with ancient, seemingly all-knowing eyes.

Those haunting eyes were all aglow in various colors—some of which we humans did not seem to inherit. Lilac. Crimson. Copper. Though I envied the beauty of their brilliance, it was the depth of the eons carved within that was truly breathtaking. Somehow, you could see how thousands of years had passed before those eyes, though most of the Aetherborne did not appear to be any older than thirty.

The long pointed ears and the sharp fangs were the most obvious features that they did not share with their mortal descendants, but it was the eyes that made the truth of their immortality apparent.

I lowered my lashes again, tucking my chin towards my chest in a show of respect. I had regained my bearings, no longer feeling dizzy, though I did notice a slight throb in the back of my head beginning to form. What the Hel was in that elixir, anyway? And what had been the damn point of it, other than making me feel slightly sick?

“We will be concluding here shortly, Arken, but first we would like to measure the strength of your Resonance in its current state. Are you sure you don’t wish to be seated?”

Concluding? Hadn’t we just started?

“I’m fine standing, thank you. What would you have me do?”

“In just a moment, we will remove all Light from these chambers. You may find it more difficult to summon your Resonance when this happens, but what we would like you to do is try and illuminate the room to the best of your ability. Do not hold back. We want to witness your full strength, without hesitation. Understood?”

That was all? This was the trial that I had been so worked up over for the last six weeks of travel? I just had to use my Resonance with some extra effort?

“Understood,” I answered, despite my disbelief.

Surely, this was too simple. I hadn’t known what to anticipate here, but I had expected something more challenging than just proving I could summon Light with a basic example.

“Are you ready?”

I nodded once, still confused. There was a knowing look in the Speaker’s eyes, as if she knew exactly what I was thinking. She almost looked... amused.

“Then you may proceed.”

And before I saw a single member of the Convocation even so much as blink, the room went black. Pitch black, ensconcing us all in total darkness.

This was a different kind of darkness—it wasn’t anything like the familiar shade of nightfall, though I could still sense the aether all around me. This was Shadow, but it was heavy. Oppressive, even. As if there were layers of it weighing down on me. Nineteen layers, perhaps? It certainly felt like it. There wasn’t even an ounce of Light aether that I could draw from…

Well, fuck.

Anxiety began to pulse as I attempted to draw on my Resonance and felt nothing at first. It was then that I realized that I was enshrouded in both total darkness and total silence. I couldn’t hear a single whisper of ambient noise—no rustle of clothes or breathing outside of my own. If I concentrated, I could probably hear the sound of my own heartbeat as it steadily elevated.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

One of the last lessons Amaretta had taught me before I left had been about the concept of aetherflows, and how supposedly Shadow aether was the strongest resource for Light arcana. But that... that was arcana. Not Resonance. There was a difference.

Resonance was what came naturally to mortals born with it, the clumsy channeling of existing aetheric energy drawn from our surroundings. The aether in our bodies allowed us to attune to one element—or all six, in my case—and allowed us to essentially channel that element. With enough practice, we could learn to command its form and shape. When I toyed around with my dancing lights against my fingertips, I was pulling that Light aether from my environment. It became mine, but it remained Light.

Arcana was the conversion of one element of aether into something else entirely, drawing upon the pure aether in our veins to transmute that elemental energy at will. It was true control. True manipulation of the lifeblood of the universe. The complex science and spellwork of the gods.

I wasn’t trained. I didn’t know how to do it, only knew the very basics of theory at best. I hadn’t even paid full attention when Amaretta would…

But I could do this. I had to.

I had to.

I took a deep, slow inhale of breath and held it, tasting the purity of the air as it filled my lungs. I flexed my toes inside my boots, shifting my stance slightly so that I felt grounded, focusing on the power I could feel from the Earth below me. I tried to steady my mind the way that I had been taught, releasing that breath slowly, but my pulse was quickening instead of slowing.

What if I failed?

What if I succeeded, but it still wasn’t enough?

What if I somehow exposed my secret?

Did they already know?

Was this a trap?

What if? What if? What if?

How easily these fears found me in the dark, wriggling beneath my skin, biting into flesh, the venom of panic slipping into my bloodstream. I could hear my own breath grow ragged, unaware of exactly how much time had passed.

Was there a time limit? She hadn’t said, but surely they wouldn’t wait on me forever in the dark.

Again, I tugged at my Resonance and felt nothing. Was this the purpose of the elixir? Some sort of blend of herbs that blocked my aether, making the trial a test of strength and will? Or was I just choking under pressure, buckling under the weight of what I wanted so badly?

I felt as though I stood on the precipice of fate, the next step into a new life just out of reach. If I fell back now, what would be left for me?

Could I really go home to the Brindlewoods and pretend that it was enough, now that I had sailed through the Western Seas? Now that I had ridden through the lush hills and grasslands of Pyrhhas, and gazed upon the sparkling City of the Gods?

No. I really couldn’t.

I wanted answers. I wanted more. I wanted to live and to learn and to find whatever it was that had been calling me here, whispering sweet nothings in my ear for years and years.

Find yourself, Arken. You’re ready. It’s time.

I was going to pass this godsdamned trial if it killed me.

With another sharp inhale, I tugged hard against that core of arcane energy I knew I held within. It was mine to command, and I felt the familiar prickle against my fingertips as power awakened, answering my adamant call. This time when I pulled, the Shadows came.

Drawing in this form of aether did not feel the same as drawing in my well-acquainted Light. Though I had felt Shadow before, I had never used it with intention. Such was the case with every element for me, except for Light. This energy was cold and smoky, feeling foreign and much less pliant than the warmth of Light as I willed it towards me with outstretched fingers. There was a slight opposition—a tangible resistance that tried to suggest this element was not mine to wield, that this power didn’t belong to me.

But it did.

All six of them did. For whatever reason.

I had manifested this darkness before, accidental or not. If I could hold it like this, I could convert it. If I could hold it like this, it was mine. I pushed up against that internal resistance, gritting my teeth as I strained against an invisible barrier in my chest. A small bead of sweat formed on my brow as I struggled to use the power I had been wielding with ease for the last ten years of my life.

Gods. Why was this so fucking hard?

My chest was beginning to tighten and constrict, head throbbing and throat dry as the Shadow aether I held continued to resist. I could feel its chaotic nature tangling around and whipping itself back and forth inside of me, refusing to bend to my will. Nausea roiled in my gut and I fought off the urge to release it all. To just give up and let the Shadows go.

Stop, I commanded—as if the aether was a sentient beast. As if it could hear me. Somehow, the chaos stilled long enough for me to take another deep, heavy breath. I shut my eyes out of habit, not that it made a difference here. But the feel of my lashes against my cheeks was calming all the same.

Aether was aether.

If Light could fade to Shadow, Shadow could grow into Light. Night into day. Dusk into dawn.

You are the master of your fate, Arken. You always have been.

That hum of power beneath my skin surged as I smiled at the memory, those encouraging words from my mentor. Warmth pooled in my chest, gentle and familiar. I could almost taste the sunshine and the fresh forest air on the exhale, and then suddenly, the Hall of the Seeing was illuminated by pure, blinding Light aether.

Holy Hel.

I did it. I actually did it.

A delighted, somewhat childish peal of laughter escaped my lips in shock as I opened my eyes and saw what I had done. Orbs of shimmering Light aether were floating overhead like makeshift constellations, the glow of those tiny stars permeating through heavily conjured Shadow like it was nothing at all. Without instruction or tools, I had used arcana. Not my Resonance. Arcana. I had cast a spell.

Even the most impassive of the nineteen Elders before me had their eyes raised to the ceiling, some of them even looking slightly surprised.

“Most impressive, young Conduit,” Elura murmured, still looking towards the Light above.

Conduit?

I blinked back the tears that had already started to well up in my eyes as she spoke the words that forced them to spill forth regardless.

“Welcome to the Arcane Studium, Arken Asher.”