615. Aether’s Story – Execution of a City

MEMORY FRAGMENT

Erekol, Second Age

“The star pupil wants to see you, divine one,” the man said, bowing so low that his head almost touched the ground.

Aether could feel a significant amount of magic within him, just as he felt the other thing—the coldness of the void. Lately, his roost was the only place in which it couldn’t be felt. This was one of the inventions of the star pupil that disgusted him. Ever since its initial discovery a decade ago, the aetherbird had stayed as far away from it as possible. He had matured enough to know not to interfere with events in the city, even if he really wanted to. Normally, Aether wasn’t one to care. The physical didn’t affect him as much as it did the mortals. He was fine with the development of the cities. Of the new devices that brought in ease and chased away so many people. Even the new set of mega-buildings and monuments didn’t bother him in the least. The void, however, was an entirely different matter.

The star pupil, of course, claimed that it was merely another different form of magic, and from what was demonstrated, no one could say any differently. Aether had asked the Moons on the topic, but they had refused to answer. That didn’t stop them from spending more time in the sky than in Erekol itself. There was a time when they’d stay in the buildings the architect had created for them, even walk about the streets among mortals. Those times were gone. Now they only appeared briefly within their temples, and even that was becoming rarer and rarer.

“I don’t feel like it,” Aether replied.

“The star pupil will very much like to discuss an important matter with you, divine one. The plans of the device are almost complete and your input is required to ensure that—”

“I said, I don’t feel like it.” Aether remained calm, but his tone was as hard as ice.

He knew that the real reason the star wanted to see him was to discuss the prospect of gaining the title “second architect.” Apparently, a century effectively ruling over the city as “the architect’s star pupil” wasn’t enough. In the past, that hadn’t been a particular issue, but apparently now it was. The star was starting to lose patience.

“Tell the star I’ll come when I feel like it,” the aetherbird spread its wings and flapped off into the sky. At least there he could have some calm.

Given everything that had happened since the dawn of time, he thought that it would take at least as long before he started to find the world annoying. Sadly, it had already started to happen. Erakol was getting wrapped with the unpleasant chill of the void, while the rest of the world remained exceedingly boring. Even the Purple Moon, who had insisted that things were certain to become interesting, was no longer pleased with the current developments. One of the reasons was the star being one of his followers.

As Aether flew, a piece of cloud peeled off, forming a condor-like entity.

“Are you going to avoid me forever?” the cloud-condor asked with a crackling voice. It didn’t take a genius to guess what was the cause of this. “Aren’t we friends anymore?”

“Not since you stopped using your name.” Aether changed form, growing twice in size.

“I’d like to change that. The device I’m working on is going to change everything you know. It’ll change everything the world knows, Moons included.”

Aether was getting annoyed. Why couldn’t the star understand that Aether didn’t have the power to make anyone the architect. In truth, even the Moons couldn’t. It was all up to the people—those with the strength and dedication to level up to the point that they could become one. In theory, there was nothing stopping the star from doing just that.

She was right about you, Aether thought. Part of him missed his companion—the being he had been closest to since the first mage. The saddest part was that the copyette had glimpsed the truth of the star pupil decades before anyone else and no one had believed her, even the aetherbird.

“I know I’ll never be proclaimed the second architect,” the cloud condor said. “I’ve given up on that. All I want to do is go back home. It’s not just for me. It’s for all the otherworlders as well as those who want to see what it’s like in my world.”

Aether had no way of telling whether the Star was lying. Some people became so good in the art of deceit that even magic wasn’t able to see through their disguise. It was possible that the star wanted to go to another world to be admired.

The best solution was to refuse to provide any help. That was what Aether had decided before flying off. Somehow, the conversation just now had changed his mind. There was no magic or music involved, just a common curiosity on his part, and the faint hope that once the star was gone, the void throughout the city would decrease.

A few days later, work on the grand device began. The construction of the device was both simple and complicated. The magic part was beautifully intricate and easily understandable. The technological part, on the other hand, was completely foreign to Aether. In a way, that was the point. The device, like many others created by the star, merged magic with technology from Earth. In more cases than not, the union of worlds created true marvels. There were cases in which, though, nightmares were created.

It took over a year for a test version of the device to be built. Its role was simple: just prove that something could be transported from one world to the other. When the grand day came, the entire city was there, watching. Magic infused light crystals covered all buildings, showing a picture of the star activating the device throughout the whole of Erekol. Even the Moons had gathered to mark the occasion.

All should have been well, and on the surface it was. Upon activation, the device managed to connect to the human’s world for a matter of seconds. The time was enough for the star to snatch a single item from Earth and transport it back to the awakened world. The item was small, foreign, made of materials that no one had seen. The star described it as a tool, but Aether considered it a weapon: it had a sharp blade that could appear and disappear at will. That wasn’t the greatest danger, though. Unseen to most, the device had created a significant side effect: a crack through which the void leaked through. It was different from the void already in the city. Violent, aggressive, with a mind of its own, it latched onto whatever already existed, transforming it into a monster.

If there was a time when the Moons had to get involved, it was now, but they didn’t.

The void was smart. It didn’t attack anyone in the city, even if it could have killed thousands. Instead, it quietly slithered out of the city. Since no one was harmed, the star’s failure was overlooked. What was worse, the experiments continued. Each time the device was activated, more cracks formed in the world. Unseen by most, the land between settlements transformed into a wilderness, very much like it had been at the dawn of time. The number of monsters increased, breeding more monsters in turn. Yet, even that didn’t stop the star’s ambition.

Four years after the device was first activated, an event occurred that changed the world forever. Seeing the limitations of her original device, the star had gone further. It was no longer enough to create a contraption that would allow people glimpses of other worlds. The new plan was to create a permanent connection. To achieve this, the parts of the new machine itself were taken from the other world. Cracks kept on spilling into the world, but that didn’t matter since it was all for the good of the grand machine. And when it was all but complete, the star requested an audience with the Moons at which the truth on the matter was revealed.

“Blackmail?” The Purple Moon asked, amused. “You’re blackmailing us?”

“It’s not personal, patron,” the star replied, not in the least bit phased. “You’ve made it clear that you’ll never give me what the architect had, so I decided to be a bit more convincing in the matter. You’ve seen the side effects of my device. Even a few seconds are enough to have a void spill into your world. Of course, the area guardians are keeping it at bay, but that’s temporary. If I start my latest device, the door won’t be open for just a few seconds. A permanent connection would be established and while it lasts, void would flood the world.”

“You’ll just destroy yourself,” Aether said, perched on the Moon’s shoulder.

“I doubt it.” The star pulled off a glove, revealing a hand completely covered in blackness. “I mastered the manipulation of the void long before I started work on my device. And I’m not the only one. My supporters also have that power. If the world is overtaken by void, we’ll be the ones left, not you.”

For the first time since his existence, Aether felt chills pass through his entire body. How was the star so calmly discussing the destruction of the world?

I should never have helped! The aetherbird thought. If he had ignored the star pupil back at the time, all this wouldn’t have happened. There would have been no void-magic, void-objects, or complex Earth-based technology. Everything would have remained the same as the architect had created it.

“Of course, I don’t want that,” the star continued. “This world is a magnificent place. I’m not talking just about Erekol, but everything surrounding it as well. Just do as I ask, and I’ll dismantle the device and erase the knowledge of it in everyone’s minds.”

“Is that all?” The Red Moon smirked. “You just want to become a deity?”

“I’ve done enough to deserve it! Everything in Erekol is created by me! The architect might have been the one to build this city, but I recreated it ten times better! Without me, people would take weeks to cross the city, they’d have to work months to acquire a harvest, or wood for the night. I created an age of bliss and I want to continue driving it forward. All that I ask is that you allow me to—”

“No,” the voice of the Blue Moon thundered.

As he did, a ball of blue light hit the grand city, shattering it to pieces. An explosion filled the space between ground and sky, reducing all structures to dust. Blue fires covered the land, though they were quickly put out by a heavy rain that appeared, pouring down through the entire world.

“Now you have no device to threaten us with. The only thing left of the city is this room, and it, too, will break up soon enough.” The Blue Moon turned around and started walking away.

“You killed an entire world?” the star asked in disbelief.

“No,” the Blue Moon replied. “We just destroyed the buildings of Erekol and all your inventions within it. The people will continue to live. They’ll have no memory of what happened. They won’t even know how the city looked, or even that it had been. History will start from scratch. You won’t live long enough to pick up the pieces back together again. But you’re welcome to try. Watching you will be most interesting.”

Barely had the Moon said that than the room itself was reduced to dust. Nothing but a wild world remained, a world full of members of the seven races, none of which knew where they were or what they were doing.