616. Aether’s Memory – End of the Beginning

MEMORY FRAGMENT

World’s Middle, Copyette’s Era

Aether flew across the sky, the sun’s rays turning purple as they passed through. He had been flying over an hour, following the threads of magic over the world. In the distance, the Purple Moon was making its way to the horizon. Unlike half the other Moons, Galatea preferred when the sky was there.

Aiming to reach his Moon, Aether cast a spell, halving the distance. After repeating the spell a dozen times, the aetherbird was close enough to perch on the Moon’s shoulder.

“They’ve started rebuilding,” Aether said.

“It’ll take them a while to gather all the pieces.”

The Purple Moon clearly didn’t care, even after everything that had happened. As far as he was concerned, the problem had been dealt with and the star made an example of. Of course, the pesky little details didn’t bother him; details such as chunks of buildings surviving the destruction of Erekol. The Moons had made sure that even indestructible material was destroyed. However, magic always came with exceptions, and a very large part of the city was full of magic. Even “crumbs” left from the event were enough to set off the rebuilding process, especially since there were enough mages whose memory had remained intact. The star was one of them, and naturally, the Moons couldn’t care less.

“They’ll give up in a few centuries,” The Moon added. “Either that or calm down. And if they don’t, we’ll do this again.”

That was the answer for everything: repeat something. Looking back into his memories, Aether could see many things repeated time after time—events that occurred once in a millennium. For mortals, that was something that occurred once in ten lifetimes; for Moons and magical beings with long memories, it was something they had seen before.

“You think she’ll try again?” Aether asked.

“Everything that’s occurred is bound to be repeated,” the Moon sighed. “It’s the sad truth of life.”

“Then there will be another Erakol?”

“No, that’s something that’ll remain unique. They’ll try to remake it, probably hundreds of times, and all they’ll create is a pale shadow.”

“You’re terrible at fun.”

“You’ll be as well. Just give it time.”

That was a terrible thought, but Aether wasn’t bothered. He already knew that his magic nature had granted him that exception. Unlike the Moons, everything seemed interesting, as if it happened for the first time.

Flying off the Moon, the bird descended back to the ground. There was so much that had changed, so much to see. As time went on, the changes increased.

Towns developed into cities, some even into kingdoms, but among all the chaos there were three groups who had the greatest advantage of all. After the destruction of Erekol, most of the people had forgotten a lot of their past knowledge. Some of those with high levels of the magic had allowed them to focus on rebuilding a lot faster than the rest. The nymphs were the race closest to magic; however, the copyettes had an extremely high memory trait. Both races had already progressed far faster than most of their competitors, although even they were second to the achievements of the star’s group.

As the decades went on, two different approaches emerged. The cities of all races focused on subduing area guardians, carving their own bubbles of safety from an increasingly dangerous wilderness. The star, on the other hand, embraced the wilderness itself. All items and structures remained completely guardian-less, while void matter was amassed and shaped into whatever the inhabitants of the new kingdom wanted.

After another decade, Aether finally decided to return to something he found familiar—the building which had served as his old perch.

“The Star knew you’d be back,” a large man with platinum white hair said as he appeared a few feet away from the aether bird. He had used magic to get to this point unnoticed, although he wasn’t a mage. Clothes made of black void covered him from throat to toe. “Just not when.”

“I don’t like void,” Aether said, still admiring the view. In the past, he could see a large part of Ekerol from here. Now, all there was were a few half-build structures scattered about at random.

“My apologies.” The man took a step back. “We tried to keep your building clean, but void has a mind of its own, even when not intelligent.”

“Ha!”

It was obvious that the man was lying. He hadn’t even attempted to hide it. Even with the void shielding his emotions, Aether knew why he had come here. There was only one thing that the star pupil wanted—help in completing another device. Most likely, the same device that had caused the destruction of the city.

“You still think there could be a second architect?”

“Of course,” the man replied without a moment’s hesitation. “It’s a lot easier now with the past destroyed. All the Star needs to do is rebuild what was lost. Then the Moons will have no choice in accepting the truth.”

There it was—the arrogance that Aether had come to expect. Clearly, erasing a whole city and the world’s progress hadn’t been enough to teach some people a lesson. The second attempt at glory had already begun. The star simply didn’t know when to quit.

“Naturally, we’ll give you something for your assistance,” the man said.

The suggestion felt insulting. There was nothing a normal could give to a moon’s familiar. Aether had the knowledge of all spells created in the far past, as well as many of the star’s own devices.

“The grave marker of the only person you admired.”

“The first mage?” That was unfair, but it was also something he wanted. As the Purple Moon had said, even in an eternity of repetitions, there were a few unique things. A memento of the first person who had spoken to Aether was one of those things.

“The Star has managed to find it and will gladly return it to you for some modest help. All you need to do is—”

Clever, aren’t you?

A purple rectangle appeared, bringing the memory to an abrupt end. It took tremendous force of will for Dallion not to leap back. Being ripped out of memories was ten times worse than being ejected from an awakened realm. Memories and questions stirred throughout his mind, trying to match up.

“You knew the Star?” Dallion managed to ask after a while.

“I knew everything there was,” the aetherbird replied. “To a point. It became a bit difficult to keep track when the Moons started banishing races. What did you think you’d get, by the way? The effort was amusing, but futile. I can erase every memory you’ve glimpsed. Maybe I’ll go further back?”

“You won’t,” Dallion said as he attempted to pat the creature on the head. Same as before, his hand went through. “You’re too bored for that.”

“Oh?” Aether turned his head, to get a good look at Dallion. It wouldn’t have been a bad thing, except he did what every bird would do—turn his head sideways. “Managed to find some backbone in my memories? Maybe that’ll help you show some progress.”

The way the bird said that suggested that Dallion wasn’t the first to have been a focus of the Moons by a long shot. That was to be expected—the Moons had their favorites, which given the amount of time passed had to be in the millions. The real question was, what were the Moons expecting from him? According to one of Dallion’s awakening trials, people were nothing more than entertainment for them, but somehow he felt there was more to the story. The answer was on the tip of his tongue and at the same time so far away.

“Don’t worry about the Star,” the aetherbird said. “There’s nothing he can do. And neither can you, for that matter. Don’t worry, I’ll give you enough feathers to impress your noble and whatnot. You’ll be able to claim that you caught me, or enough of me.”

“This was your home,” Dallion changed the subject. “It was built for you.”

“The only remnant of a forgotten city. It was supposed to be destroyed twice, but I couldn’t help myself. Galatea said I’m too sentimental. Maybe I am, but I like unique things, especially those that belong to me.”

Things weren’t making sense. If the phoenix was so powerful, how had he been captured? Actually, Dallion had a pretty good idea, although not why the Star wanted him? If the memory fragment was any indication, the Star was already a mage and a very powerful one at that. There was no reason for him to want to obtain a skill gem… unless the Moons had taken the skills away from him. That too didn’t make sense, though. They hadn’t bothered the first time the Star had acted up and clearly weren’t bothered by the subsequent chaos he created in the world. For all intents and purposes, they didn’t seem to care… or didn’t they?

What now? Dallion wondered. Before the memory, he had decided to go all out. After learning what he did, he was no longer sure. Should he meddle with forces far exceeding him?

“No,” Dallion whispered firmly.

“No?” the aetherbird asked. “No, what?”

“No turning back.”

Gleam hadn’t sacrificed herself so he could quit halfway through. There was no guarantee that what he was going to try would have an effect, but he intended to do it, anyway. The secrets of the past, however interesting, had no hold on him. Dallion was in the present, and planned to act accordingly. Without a second thought, Dallion split into instances. The effect was effortlessly negated by the aetherbird, but that wasn’t of consequence. It was all meant to create a distraction lasting a fraction of a second long. During that time, Dallion grabbed the hidden artifact given to him by the general and pressed it against his chin. A flash of brown light blinded him.

PERSONAL AWAKENING – REALM INVASION

The mountain Dallion was standing on vanished, replaced by a new one.

You are in the realm of AETHER

You are not supposed to be here!

The purple rectangle floated around Dallion. When he tried to instinctively wave it away, the rectangle moved back out of his reach. This was the realm of the aetherbird, alright, and it was not pleased.

Dallion looked around. The entire terrain beyond the mountain was in constant flux. Forests changed into trees, then into grass, before moving on to desert, and then sea again.

Lux, Dallion ordered.

The firebird enveloped him in its blue flames, lifting him off the ground. Surprisingly, the mountain didn’t disappear or even change. For some reason, it remained the sole spot of stability in the entire realm. Possibly that had to do with its significance in Aether’s life. The firebird clearly valued it to the point that it had allowed it to go against the creature’s nature—an exception against the exception.

What did you do? Aether asked.

“Something I might regret,” Dallion replied.

The purpose of the artifact he had used was to reduce the level of the Star to Dallion’s own, in the event he got into another fight with him. Some might say that it was a gamble using it on the aetherbird, but Dallion was fairly certain that it would work, and indeed it had. He was just about to provide an explanation to Aether when someone interrupted him.

“Well,” a familiar voice said a short distance behind, sending chills down Dallion’s spine.

Summoning his harpsisword, he split into a dozen instances and turned around. As he did, he kicked the side of the blade, causing it to vibrate.

Dallion’s fears turned out to be founded. Less than twenty feet away stood the familiar figure of Arthurows, his Earthly clothes now having an inky black gleam.

“Isn’t this awkward?” the Star asked.