Aiden met failure with emotionless composure. The sphere surrounding his astra could be called many things, but indestructible was not one of them. Another punch sent cracks worming their way through the entire structure until it crumbled to pieces—the fragments of yet another failed attempt, gone in an instant.
Another one.
He willed a new shield of Ekron to form around his soul, and the crystalline luster of the material graced his sore eyes once more. One punch cracked it like a broken mirror; another reduced it to pieces.
The cycle continued for hours. The pain became mind-numbing. Distracting. It pulled at him, whispering sweet, wordless lies in his ears. As time passed, Aiden understood its meaning.
"Let it go," it begged him. "You’ve done enough," it lied.
No. He would stop when his fist broke against the sphere—not a moment sooner. Three punches until the shield broke. Four. Five. Six. Progress. Aiden doubted he could keep the frustration at bay, if he did not see the fruits of his hard work.
How can Finn do this in a second? In one damned try? Unbreakable? The thing that guarded his soul might win a contest of durability against rotten wood. What a joke.
The tears in his soul howled a furious tune, like a wound exposed to frigid wind. Aiden willed the shield to form once more, but a pulsing throb shot through him, making his mind falter under the pain. Focus returned as the torture faded, and he floated next to his astra—the small red ball of flame that illuminated a world of darkness.
It almost spoke to Aiden through its warm, flickering flames, but he did not understand the words of hexion—only the Heightened heard its mystic tongue.
Nothing was going as smoothly as he had hoped. For every attempt at creating the shield, a spasm of pain sent Aiden crawling back to oblivion. If only the tears in his soul disappeared. If only they did not add to the list of things that took pleasure in making his life harder, perhaps he could forge something worthy of Helvan’s attention.
The cuts shivered and shrank. The change was so minute that it was impossible to confirm with sight alone, but Aiden needed no eyes to see inside his own soul. Within the domain of his shield, he was the master of all things.
Can it be this simple? He commanded the wounds to close, and they obeyed. I’m so stupid, it is that easy!
The wounds closed, their progress perceptible even to physical sight. Yet as they diminished, so did the flickering flames of his astra. What had been the size of a child’s head now resembled an infant’s closed fist. The crimson flames flickered and went out, as if blown away by a tempest. The only thing that remained was a ruby ball.
Shit! That can’t be good.
Aiden focused his entire attention on the piece of jewelry that rested at the center of his being—his astra. He might have done something bad, perhaps irreversible. Was it wise to attempt to will it aflame? Would it consume itself to heal, trapped in a cycle that ended in its destruction?
Something deep inside his soul urged him to try. It did not speak to him since the Sixfold Corridor—a voice hidden behind thought, the melody of his soul. He trusted it once more.
Heal, he commanded. Nothing happened. Heal! No perceptible changes.
If everything inside his soul obeyed him, then his astra remained unbroken—for something unbroken could not be healed. The only difference from before was the flames, the hexion that had burned warmly on its surface. If that were the case, then he needed the mysterious crimson fire to live once more.
Burn!
The core shivered. No, that wasn’t right. Something inside the core shivered—a place that even his perception had trouble reaching. He willed his body forward on a whim, and the projection of his consciousness shot inside it.
The interior of Aiden’s astra looked remarkably similar to his shielded soul. A crimson sphere of ruby material surrounded him, the darkness replaced by a deep shade of red—of blood.
At the very center, a hole in reality shivered, a gateway to a familiar, nameless place. It led to the mysterious land woven in crimson hues, where the three majestic bodies of flame hung suspended on the horizon. The source of his power. The homeland of hexion.
The crimson door chose him, its hexion filling his being and forging a precious core in his soul. The limits of his affinity were not recorded in the books provided by Helvan, and that meant the extent of his capabilities did not abide by common sense.
Helvan claimed only the Heightened could weave hexion into arts, and Aiden believed him. But the old man said nothing about him not being able to call upon it.
Aiden focused a wordless command to the other side of the black hole, urging the hexion to come. It obeyed. He had expected resistance, but the crimson flames were eager to comply. They yearned to fill the hollow husk that was his astra, limited only by the black gateway that connected him to freedom.
With relief, he projected his consciousness outside. The astra burned like a dead ember, but the little flames continued to grow as more hexion flooded from the mysterious land beyond the rift. The progress was slow, but if he took enough care, it would be enough to heal his soul from the damage of a failed shield.
Back to work.
Another shield surrounded his soul, and Aiden got back to punching.
***
Aiden dismissed the crumbling shield with a flicker of his will, opening his eyes to face Helvan as he sensed the Sovran’s foreign presence crashing down on him. Damned old man. He had been so close to improving the technique just a little more, but it all went to pieces as Helvan’s pressure weighed on his soul.
“We head to Elysium tomorrow,” Helvan said, making his way back to the door, his message delivered.
“Wait! You promised me some answers.” Aiden stood up, his joints grinding painfully from the uncomfortable position.
“I believe I said that I would consider it, but it all depended on your progress.” Helvan regarded Aiden with a raised eyebrow. “Shield yourself. It is time for your assessment.”The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Aiden grasped the shard of Ekron in a white-knuckled grip and scrunched his eyebrows together to form the image within his soul—a visualization of a concept he still thought impossible. That was the problem. Deep down, he believed nothing was unbreakable.
Imaginary chains, that’s all it is.
If only he knew how to break them. Finn did not have those, so why should he? It was so simple—just will it to be indestructible and his soul would obey. That, however, was as far as the theory reached. If his mind refused to follow, then his soul had no reason to comply.
Mustering all the pain of hours of incessant repetition, Aiden willed a shield around his soul. Unbreakable. Like the Torch. Can’t break it with a punch. Can’t break it! Helvan’s presence bombarded him like the weight of an insurmountable boulder crashing on top of his head.
The transparent boundary whined, cracks spreading throughout its spherical creation, little pieces falling and willed to oblivion in an instant. Aiden mustered his will to strengthen the shield, to reinforce it against the assault, but he might as well have not bothered. The fissures grew wider, the broken fragments stabbing at his soul, until it gave in and crumbled to nothingness. Cold stone greeted his knees as all the strength in his body fled with the last shreds of his will.
Two seconds. What a joke.
Aiden did not raise his head to look Helvan in the eye, for he knew the man did not need to follow up on his promise—his progress was nonexistent.
“Finn, leave us.” Helvan’s voice brooked no disagreement.
Finn knew when not to provoke someone in a sour mood, Aiden would give him that much. He left without a word, almost fleeing from the room. The silence stretched between the two of them until Helvan broke it.
“Your soul is undamaged, a ridiculous notion after how reckless you have been.” Aiden looked at him and saw no disappointment, but acknowledgment. “There is only one way to accomplish that. You have channeled hexion, if only a measly trickle. But that is not all—you have commanded it from beyond the rift.”
“So what?” Aiden crawled to his bed, and exhaustion hit him like a hammer.
“It’s not possible with an Unheightened soul,” Helvan said without hesitation. “Or it should have been. Perhaps the core of the Hemomorph is at play again. Say, have you perhaps felt an instinct you couldn’t quite explain?”
“No,” Aiden lied.
“It matters not.” Helvan sighed. “But I will grant you one answer for that feat alone, if it makes stop frowning.”
“Really?” Aiden stammered.
Helvan moved his head in a minute nod.
There was so much Aiden needed to ask. Runes and his ability to see them were out of the question; he did not trust the man enough to reveal something that could get him killed. He wanted to ask about his family, how they were doing, but wasting this opportunity on insecurities did nothing but keep him away from the power needed to protect them.
Aiden needed to know more about his Path, a clear road to tread forward in search of power. But Helvan was not the best person to teach him about the Blood Path; the man was a wielder of time. Myra had the knowledge and experience to guide him, much as he dreaded the idea of spending time in her clutches.
“How do I make my Providence stronger?” Aiden asked. It was the best use of Helvan’s reluctant concession.
“Use your Providence on me.” Helvan nodded, as if expecting the question already.
“Are you sure? You might piss yourself or… worse.” Aiden’s voice carried a mocking tone, but he still remembered Helvan’s previous threats to kill him for this very reason.
“Do it—”
Say less, you shitty old man! Aiden grabbed his hand and unleashed one-third of Dyad Vessel’s stored power. Helvan’s eyes widened, but not a whisper or grunt escaped his mouth.
“Quite the bite,” he merely said.
That’s it? Aiden remained still, stunned into silence.
Helvan withstood a moderate amount, given that Dyad Vessel had not been full, with nothing but mild surprise. Whoever he truly was, Aiden knew the Sovran was not someone to mess with. Perhaps even a full release would not hinder the man for more than a second—which meant little to those who embarked on the Time Path.
“You haven’t made your abilities a secret,” Aiden said. “That whole thing about making things appear out of nowhere to spook folk is not very subtle. Unless you’re wielding time to run around and bring things from a safe, then what you have is a Providence.”
“That’s what your broad knowledge of the Empyrean Arts tells you?” Helvan turned from Aiden and ran his hand over the opened books on the table. “You’ve read one of these, yet the shallow wisdom it provides is enough for you to be certain. Laughable.”
“You are not denying it.” Fancy as his words might be, they were only the elusive dance of someone avoiding questioning. “And if you have one, you know how to use it better than me,” Aiden said.
Helvan stared at him with obsidian eyes that devoured all light in the room.
“I want you to teach me.” Aiden stood up, taller than Helvan by a hand, and forced himself to meet his gaze.
“Very well.” Helvan sat down with a sigh. “I did promise one answer, and this is certainly a stretch, but I will entertain it. Now reveal your scripture to me.”
The word rang with a tune of hollow incomprehension, but Helvan had to be referring to the blue screen and its mysterious text. Aiden summoned it with a nudge of his will. “This? What do you think?”
“I am thinking it is impossible to read your mind or see through your eyes.” Helvan shook his head as Aiden frowned at his words. “Unless you will it to be shared, I will not be able to see it, Aiden.”
Start with that then, you shitty geezer! Aiden bit back a reply but did as Helvan said.
The screen flickered from blue to green, and he felt the attention of somebody else on it. The connection was one-sided, as far as Aiden understood—its existence based entirely on his will—so he let Helvan read it.
“Dyad Vessel.” Helvan muttered the words with a pensive frown. “A two-way passage, if I’m not mistaken, able to store and release. Interesting. And you have made quite a bit of progress in ascending your Providence—Median Corruption already in only a few weeks. You will have Myra to thank for that, I suppose.”
Aiden’s decision proved fruitful. With only a few meaningless words woven into the ethereal light, Helvan could dissect all the known information about Aiden’s Providence. It also confirmed Aiden’s theory of Helvan possessing a similar remnant of his own.
“There are realms of power, Aiden, each one providing a qualitative increase in the capabilities of your Providence. The first one, as you might have noticed, is the Corruption realm, followed by Refinement and Purity.”
“Each realm has three stages—Lesser, Median, and Greater—which provide a quantitative increase in the Providence’s capabilities. You will not learn new abilities, but you might understand how to use it in a better, less intuitive way.” Helvan paused for a moment, letting the words sink in. “If you want to get stronger, advance through the stages and break through to the next realm.”
“That’s a whole lot easier said than done,” Aiden chuckled at undergoing an abyss worth of pain to make the Providence stronger. It did not sound appealing. “Sure, just call some guys to beat me up. Oh, and make sure to bind them with oaths so they can’t run when I use the Providence on them.”
“Why would I do that? You have the perfect, most interested candidate at your disposal.” Helvan smiled.
“Who’s that?” Aiden blinked in confusion.
“Yourself.” Helvan nodded, as if the suggestion was entirely mundane. “It will be more efficient, as you can reabsorb a portion of each release back into the Providence. Probably… you will not know until you try it.”
“What—”
“I believe you heard me.” Helvan cut through Aiden’s voice with determined callousness. “Unleash your Providence on yourself. Reabsorb it. Repeat.”
“But that’s—”
“Painful? Insane?” Helvan chuckled. “The road to power is trod in blood and pain, Aiden. If you’re not willing to do it, others will. And when you face those whose resolve trumped yours, you will die. Simple as that.”
A gaping hole carved itself in the bottom of Aiden’s stomach. The idea sounded plausible as Helvan explained, but it meant experiencing the same excruciating pain more than once. It was possible, yet insane. What kind of person willingly underwent such torture? The regimen would shave away all that was left of him.
Once it was over, would anything remain? Aiden did not know, but that did not stop him.
“Remember, Aiden: those who flinch at every hardship usually die without even noticing.” Helvan departed, his words echoing in the empty chamber.
Aiden sat on the mat, killing his hesitation by bringing the image of his family to the forefront of his mind. He felt his Providence—its well of pain missing one-third of its capacity. With a shuddering sigh, he rolled up his pants, exposing the skin underneath.
Dyad Vessel opened, unleashing its ferocious bite upon Aiden. Pain stole his thoughts. Everything went blank.