Chapter 22: CHAPTER X – Constellation of Memories

For their third night, Sphaere and Rhystea wanted something better to sleep on than the ground. Quickly deciding that even if Rhystea could conjure a bed, it would not stay clean for long, and was therefore not ideal. Even with Sphaere pestering her, Rhystea didn’t know any ‘scratchings’ to make a rock comfortable. Not that they didn’t exist, but until now, she hadn’t thought it practical enough to commit to memory.

After much deliberation, Sphaere suggested they go with a simple hammock. This annoyed Rhystea, not because she was somehow at fault for not being able to conjure a bed or turn a rock into a pillow; but because it was both a simple and logical solution, and Sphaere of all people arrived at it before she had. While they had wanted hammocks, plural, there just weren’t enough places for them to tie off from.

The Reptilia Series all but revered them by now, and were both intrigued and happy to help when Rhystea requested materials. Their basking chamber had a large convenient openings that Cekell would allow them to jump through with ease, making it an ideal spot to set up for the night.

Having a corner to call their own, they made themselves as comfortable as they could. It wasn’t much, but it was more than they’d find anywhere but at Tellamar’s observation station, and Sphaere insisted that she would rather sleep on the rocks than there. Even if the room wasn’t under the vigilant guard of their scaly friends, they were fairly certain that Cekell wouldn’t allow them to be hurt in their sleep. Exhausted from another long day, they were quick to drift into a deep slumber. They would find little rest, as Cekell would peek into their memories while they slept, and this affected their dreams.

It would be a while before Cekell would describe it as such, but upon closely inspecting a soul, they appeared similar to the constellations in the night sky. As he would one day describe it, the contents of a soul are memories, and each one is akin to a star. They have their own specific place in relation to other memories, and they shine in various sizes, intensity and even color. The first time Cekell peered into their beings, it was out of innocent curiosity, entranced by the light of such stars. 

Looking into Rhystea’s soul, he focused on the brightest star that was nearby. Even seeing what she had seen, he wouldn’t have been able to understand it; but as he was delving into her memories, and when he came into contact with that star, he could feel as she had felt. Unfortunately, of our most vivid memories, not all of them are happy.

He didn’t mean to intrude, he just didn’t know any better. It was bright, and it was warm, and he couldn’t help himself. Cekell was all but pulled into the deepest part of the light as he peered into Rhystea’s very soul. All the emotions and feelings that Rhystea had felt came rushing to him. Her senses and understanding overwrote his own as he broke the surface of what emit that light.

 

Rhystea was headed home from classes in an excited rush. Her parents had promised a surprise for her - something extra special. She never left the University in a rush, usually being pushed out the doors as it was getting late. Today, however, she had her surprise, and she had been waiting impatiently all day for it.

Excited as she was, Rhystea did not wait quietly. She wore her excitement on her sleeve and was happy to tell anyone that asked the good news. A fellow student that always looked down on her, even though his grades were not as good as her own happened to bump into her, and she told him just to ruffle his feathers.

For her final period of the day, Rhystea assisted the University to get work experience. She wasn’t fond of this, but both of her parents insisted that she get a taste of the real world. As she was a capable and learned individual, when her parents pulled strings to set something up with the University, they did not have to pull hard.

At the end of the day, Rhystea was literally an errand runner - though it was for important individuals to the University. While she was not fond of the odd tasks she would get assigned from time to time, anything from tutoring, to helping instructors as an assistant, to even being the mascot for a University sporting events, she was not about to miss out on the opportunity to solidify her connections within the University itself. 

Today, one of those connections happened to be in a position to not only get Rhystea out of classes early by needing an extra set of hands to pick up a delivery for the University, but the pick up point was close to Rhystea’s house - which was not far, but the security at the University was no joke. Being as she was an underclassman in a system designed to value the time of upperclassmen - who were released first, she was never in a hurry to get to the exit and get held up waiting for her turn to check out and go home. Getting to bypass that would save her no small amount of time. 

Everything was turning up aces. Rhystea practically skipped through her front door, and was promptly snapped to attention when, before she could shut the open door behind her, she could hear a very loud and angry voice coming from behind the closed door of her parent’s study.

Intently trying to find out what was going on, Rhystea quietly closed the door behind her. She didn’t have to listen too carefully, as the voice was very loud and full of anger - and it seemed to be admonishing her father!

“...Not even going to begin paying that off, David, not even if both you and Julia spent the rest of your lives as slaves for the University! That was supposed to be divided up between a dozen different departments! You didn’t just steal from them, you are putting both important research and even lifelong careers on hold! I never even doubted giving it to you! Do you know what this is going to make me look like?! You aren’t just burning bridges here, you’re spitting in the faces of those who lifted you up! I thought we were friends, I think I would rather have had an actual knife in the back than for you to make me look like an accomplice!” The resounding voice reverberated throughout the house.

Rhystea was stunned. She could hardly believe what she was hearing. She refused to believe it, even as the voice continued, “And don’t you dare give me that bullshit about doing this for your daughter! The Univ-”

Something from deep within her welled up when Rhystea heard her mother interrupt, “You don’t get to call that bullshit!” Her mother retorted, a lioness fending for her cub. “The entire reason we work with the University is for our daughter! The only reason we ever agreed to work for you is for our daughter! You know damn good and well we’d rather not focus on applications of sigilism in government projects in order to make money for the university! Everything we do is to secure her future! You have every right to be disappointed with us, but you don’t get to call our reasoning, our parenting bullshit! We’re not proud of this, but we’re not going to stop, either. OUR career, first and foremost, is as parents.”

Rhystea’s world trembled. This sounded rather serious, and her parents weren’t only not denying it, they were almost apologetic. Rhystea didn’t fully understand what was going on, and the calm in her father’s voice sent a chill down her spine. “You have every right to be angry. You can’t stop us, and we’re not going to change our minds. We’ll sacrifice whatever we have to in order to ensure a future for our daughter. We realize that we are trampling over the careers of others, but it’s a hard world, and we made a hard decision. It’s simply survival of the fittest. We knew going into this, we wouldn’t be able to simply pay for it, and we never once hesitated.”

Rhystea’s heart skipped a beat. She was confused, and more than a little concerned, but she could feel her parent’s love and devotion in the weight behind every word. She was speechless. Confusion, concern and curiosity had paralyzed her. All she could do was listen as the admonishment continued, “Do you think you’re ever going to get to see your daughter again? You really think that’s in her best interest?!” The angry voice boomed back.

“If you’d silence your anger long enough for a complete explanation, we keep trying to tell you. The government is constantly trying to recruit us for some rather… distasteful projects. We don’t agree with human experimentation… but we’ve always been promised full access to any and all research materials we could ever want. No, it’s not ideal… But we could get the University involved and get you full access to any and all data we come up with - put your name next to the discoveries, and tie our legacy to the University. You benefit all the way around on this, but you’ll have to give us time.” David answered, eerily calm.

“And what makes you think this is all going to fall into place so neatly? If this deal of yours is so sweet, why haven’t you already taken it?!” The angry voice growled back. 

“We’ve recently learned some things. We’ve always known mana was key to Sigil activation, but we’ve only recently learned how to further interact with that mana. If we knew these things then, of course we would have taken the offer on the spot. These discoveries going public will make mana infinitely more valuable than… anything. We’re certain we can do this, or you can bet we wouldn’t test our theories out on our daughter. There is a lot we can learn from the procedure as well. This is how mankind gets a future, and we will bind our daughter to it in order to secure her own.” David explained with icy determination. 

Rhystea’s mind was racing. She was vaguely familiar with the government project her dad was talking about, it was a frequent topic of discussion between her parents. They agreed it was unethical to experiment on people, but the world was becoming largely uninhabitable; they often argued whether or not it was more unethical not to do everything they could in order preserve the future. No, human experimentation wasn’t ideal, but if it led to the salvation of the human race… was it not justified? No, the ends don’t always justify the means, but when weighed against extinction, maybe thumbing the scale wasn’t so… apprehensible?

“So you’re going to steal precious materials from the University and use them to experiment on your daughter?” The voice sneered, twisting his question like a knife. 

“That’s one way of looking at it, but from our perspective, we’re just giving her the best chance we can.” Julia replied unflinchingly. 

There was a short pause, one that would have been longer - had it not been interrupted by the ringing of a phone, followed by a lower voice she couldn’t make out. The thought that she might get caught spurred Rhystea into action, one without prior thought on her part. This was rare for her, Rhystea always looked before she leapt; but she didn’t know how her parents would feel about her overhearing that conversation, and she certainly didn’t want to get caught eavesdropping. 

Compelled by something deep in her core, Rhystea quickly opened and slammed the door, and realized she didn’t know what she was doing as she called out to her parents, “Mom, Dad, I’m home early! I haven’t forgotten, you better not have either!” She immediately cringed as she realized she acted impulsively and would now have to improvise, something she wasn’t very good at.

There was no response, and her first idea was to run and hide. This would not be acceptable, as if Rhystea hadn’t overheard that conversation, she would be doing the exact opposite. The closest she could manage was to run to the refrigerator. 

Still no response. Rhystea had come up with a plan and acted on it. This gave her a sense of control in her situation, which made her feel on track and helped calm her nerves. Orange juice caught her eye. Not only was it a bright color, but it would spike her blood sugar and that might give her a brain boost and help her come up with something. 

Rhystea quickly retrieved the container of orange juice, closed the refrigerator, and hurried over by the sink to fetch a cup. She couldn’t avoid recalling the conversation as she went to pour, and her hand trembled. She sighed as she set what she was holding down on the counter and began to clean up her mess.

Thankfully, still not so much as a peep from her parents' study. Had they really stolen mana from the university? And in no small quantity it sounded like. Was that what her surprise was? Rhystea rolled her eyes at the thought. She was clearly missing something, mana was far too valuable for the likes of her. It was going to revolutionize the world on multiple levels. It could hardly be considered a dream, more of a fantasy really. Sure, she had heard them claim to have taken it on her behalf, but it could be for a number of reasons, such as showing her real world applications of sigils, or even just selling it for a tidy sum. It was an intriguing notion to entertain, and doing so took her mind off the unpleasantness of her situation.

Having cleaned up her mess and successfully served herself a glass of orange juice, Rhystea returned the container to its proper place before retrieving her cup. Turning to face the door of her parents’ study, she leaned against the counter and took a drink. Just as she drew in on the sweet juice of the orange fruit, the door to her parent’s study opened and revealed a man she recognized as the President of the University. Suddenly the situation became real, the gravity of it all hit her in that moment, and she nearly drowned in her drink. 

Rhystea would have died of embarrassment if she wasn’t so thankful to have such a convenient reason to be flustered. Countless thoughts were racing through her head, and the loudest one was of concern. She didn’t know how to react in response to what she had just learned. She didn’t think less of her parents, if anything she was afraid her parents would think that she did - and she found that thought to be unbearable. She knew exactly how much her parents cared for her, and she wouldn’t allow herself to tarnish that love, she had to reciprocate it in kind. Honestly, earnestly, and beyond doubt.

Her near death experience was short lived, and now she had another, even bigger mess to clean up. Rhystea didn’t even notice the startled look the University President gave her as they caught each other by surprise. She set to work on the simple task at hand, taking it slow and in paces in order to give her racing mind more time to sort things out. 

Not wanting this to color how her parents thought she felt about them, Rhystea quickly resolved to take the information to her grave. She started to force a smile, and immediately realized she was doing it wrong. She laughed at herself, her situation, and her plight. Thinking back to all the joy her parents had shared with her, all the knowledge they enjoyed passing on to her; knowing full well she was a spoiled rotten only child, an unwavering and gentle smile spread gently across her face.

The University President was quick to pull out his phone, find and select a contact, lift it to his ear, and face her with a guilty grin of his own, having witnessed Rhystea’s spectacle, and finally nod at her on his way out the door leading outside. The weight having been lifted from her, Rhystea gave him her best smile and waved excitedly as she turned her thoughts back to the surprise her parents had promised her, and her attention back to her mess.

There was a silence long enough for her to finish cleaning the juice she had spilled. She was in no hurry, her excitement had calmed, but still smoldered in wonderment. Rhystea kept glancing up at the recently opened door to her parent’s study expectantly. It wasn’t until she was about to take another sip from her cup when her mother called her into their study, “Rhystea, sweetie, in here!”

“Coming!” Rhystea called back, stoking her excitement as she hurried to the doorway. (What if it really was my own mana? How amazing would that be?!) She thought to herself as she leaned against the doorframe. “Was that the President?! I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important!” She stated in over exaggeration, explicitly happy that she had managed to interrupt the conversation. 

“He was actually here discussing your gift!” David stated with a laugh as he turned and flashed a smile to his wife, who cocked her head to the side and gave a partially concerned yet somewhat surprised smile before replying, “Oh don’t worry about that dull bag of wind, more importantly; how would you like to be a next generation Sigilist, with your very own mana?” Julia burst with excitement. “And not just the crystallin form hanging from your neck, but one that no one could take from you, that you could interface with on a much deeper level!”

Rhystea’s eyes went wide, and her grip loosened as her cup of juice fell to her feet. She could scarcely believe her ears and choked on surprise. Her jaw fell to the floor with her cup and she didn’t even acknowledge the puddle she was standing in as she completely forgot about her concern.

“Sweetie?!” Julia chastised in dejection. 

“Now that’s the reaction I was hoping for!” David shouted with a laugh, “This was NOT an easy deal to set up, but that alone made it worth it!”

Rhystea’s heart skipped a beat. Her father’s words struck a chord with her. She trembled, and tears started pouring down her face. Love and gratitude exploded in her heart, and she was completely overwhelmed.

David’s guffawing grew distant as Cekell reached up and touched his own cheek. There was nothing there, but he could still feel the warmth. With growing excitement, he eyed the next closest star. Before he could start for it, he felt Rhystea stir. Wondering if he had caused that coupled with the desire to not disturb her, he begrudgingly pulled himself away from the warmth of her spirit.

Retracting himself from Rhystea’s memories, Cekell watched a gentle smile spread across her sleeping visage. He had to hold in a chirp as she clenched down on him. Turning both his attention and his probe to Sphaere, he did not notice her hands were tightly clenched into fists. He noticed that, what at first appeared to be an extra bright star, was actually two smaller stars in close proximity. Like a child at the edge of a pool, he dove in with reckless abandon.

 

Calm. Sphaere opened her eyes, pulled from her sleep. It was pitch dark, as she couldn’t stand trying to sleep with a light on. She was a very light sleeper, and usually had trouble falling asleep. She was young when her father taught her how to find her center, and she would usually have to meditate herself to sleep, otherwise she could not turn her thoughts off. Light impeded this process, so she blocked off her window and even set something in front of her door to block light from intruding underneath.

Sphaere was not a morning person. She usually woke up groggily, often trying to will herself back to sleep, but usually unable to do so. It was highly irregular for her to wake up so sharp. It’s like rather than having gone to sleep, she had simply paused. She was fully alert, and struck by an overwhelming calm.

There was no hesitation. She sprung into action as though the words were etched into her being. Sphaere would forever be haunted by the placid tranquility in her father’s voice, “Sphaere, get the guns out of your closet. Your mother went to get your brother, and will meet us out at the barn. We’ll stick to the tree line, stay in the shadows, and stay silent.” 

She could still feel her father’s grip on her shoulder. From training, to discipline, to warnings, he would always place his hand firmly on a shoulder, and squeeze like a vise. When she was in trouble, it almost hurt, just enough pressure to be uncomfortable. In training, it snapped her into attention and made her focus. In uncertainty, it made her feel secure. Quickly crawling out of bed and throwing yesterday’s clothes on in the dark, Sphaere started making her way to her closet. “What’s goin’ on, Papa?” She asked, shivering not from fear, but from the icy calm in her father’s voice.

Sphaere felt her dad lower his head, even in the dark. He took a deep breath before he replied, “You know how daddy sometimes fights in underground matches to make money?” There was a pause, it was something her parents often quarreled about. Her father was a martial artist who had been practicing since he was four years old, and was also a trained soldier. They weren’t the most well to do family, but mom hated violence; and whenever they were having trouble making ends meet, he would almost get excited because she would let him fight.

These weren’t fights like back in his military days, where they wore gloves. Dad had only ever been beaten once, but after somehow willing himself back to consciousness, told the referee to check his opponent’s gloves - which had a thin, aluminum strip rigged into them that served as a concealed weapon. Having been made, his opponent had attempted to escape. 

In a rage, and with his gloves still on, her father beat that man to a pulp. His opponent didn’t take it laying down either, he fought back; weaponized glove still on one hand, the other a bare fist. To this day her father regrets how badly he beat his opponent. Since then, mom didn’t like him going to competitive fights, and not only because they had gotten even more brutal.

“Yea.” Sphaere responded to her father’s question.

“A group of fighters got together and decided they would be better off if I wasn’t around winning all my fights.” Her father continued on. They weren’t wrong, either. Her dad didn’t fight often, and never failed to bring home a hefty winner’s purse. He would never be beaten in a fair fight, and claiming to be unbeatable while only accepting challenges from tough guys that had proven themselves meant he could drive a hard bargain.

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Grappling, joint locks, pins, chokes, and striking techniques; her father had studied numerous forms of martial arts since he was a child. He had practiced kendo as well, but when he got into the military and learned knife fighting, he had found his calling as a martial artist. He excelled and progressed from a soldier to a skilled operative rather quickly, but the first time he killed someone up close and personal, he lost his nerve.

As a soldier, he had killed numerous people with guns. He was a crack shot, but never particularly cared for shooting. He had never given much thought to killing from a distance, he pushed it out of his mind and focused on the fact that he was only killing threats; and it was for not only his family, but his people. The first time he stared into someone’s eyes as their life faded away, something deep inside him broke. 

It was after that he met mom and settled down. Mom was a bona fide cowgirl, not only competent in the caretaking of livestock and corps, but also an expert from roping to riding, and even some trick shooting. Sphaere was reminded of this as she pulled her mother’s pistol belt from her closet and fastened it around her own waist. They were heavy. She retrieved a shotgun and a long rifle contained in cases and slung them over her shoulder before snatching up the prepared ammo bag and hurried after her Papa.

Her father led the way with a big knife, a big pistol, and driven purpose. Her eyes adjusted quickly, there was only a sliver of moon, but it was just enough to expose her surroundings. Sphaere was having trouble keeping up. She was fit, but she had a load and it was weighing her down. Her anxiety was nonexistent, utterly replaced with an almost eerily frozen tranquility. She was straining to keep pace, and her breath gave her away.

“Control your breathing.” Her father whispered. 

“Yes, Papa.” She whispered back as she began drawing deeper breaths. Her father’s constant, watchful eye kept a blanket of protection around her, and she was reminded of this as he repeated a mantra from the days she was in training. That security blanket was about to be torn away as they reached the barn and joined up with her Mama.

“Wait here.” Her father commanded as he immediately turned and started back for their house.

“Papa-” Was all Sphaere managed to say before her father silenced her.

“Sphaere.” He spoke up, a sharpness in his tone cutting off the girl, “You once asked me why we do not fight with anger. Do you remember this?”

“Mhmm.” Sphaere answered, emotion just below the still surface of the structure that was her calm - almost like a cage.

“We don’t fight with anger because we prefer to only fight in order to sharpen our skill. But, there is a reason we sharpen those skills. It is unfortunate, but evil exists in this world, and anger is reserved for that evil. We hate evil, and it’s very presence should serve to anger us. When you fight something worthy of hate, your anger will erase your fears and hesitation. We do not hesitate when we confront evil. Evil, we slay immediately. We do not afford it the opportunity to threaten the innocent, or our loved ones.” There was no doubt in his voice, and when he finished speaking, he vanished into the darkness.

There was a brief moment as her mother rushed to Sphaere’s side, and tied her and her cargo up in an embrace. “Don’ worry, sweetheart, if anythin’, it’s them poor bastards that need ta be afraid.”

“Where’s Kai?” Sphaere questioned as she leaned into her mother.

“I told ‘im the AC went out again an’ we were sleepin’ out here where it's cooler. Laid ‘im down in the truck an’ ‘e were out like a light.” Her mother answered with a light laugh as she released Sphaere and started pulling her towards the metallic barn door that reflected the little moonlight they had.

They made their way to the door slowly and silently. The weight of her burden, both in material and purpose, was  wearing on her. She’d never actually thought about taking a life before. All she could do was hope it didn’t come to that as they reached the door and her mother pulled it open slowly and as quietly as possible. Her mother turned to her and froze. There was just enough moonlight to reveal her mother’s face was twisted in horror. Everything went black, and Cekell was ejected from the memory. Or perhaps the memory just ended. 

Cekell turned to the nearby twin star, and just before he could throw himself at it, he felt Sphaere clench up. Reluctantly, he pulled himself away from the constellations of memories that formed her soul. His world shook as Sphaere trembled. Her face winced in agony as a painful memory surfaced, and a tear leaked out of a shuttered eye. 

Guilt clawed at the center of Cekell’s being. The realization that this was his fault set in, and in desperation to take it back, he tried to put some distance between them for fear of making things worse. All he managed to do was fall face first out of the hammock. Slumping over on the ground, all he could feel was disgust for himself. Carelessly and thoughtlessly, he gave her the frown she was wearing now. He was responsible for the tears in her wounded eyes. No, he couldn’t feel her pain; but he could feel her heart flinch as though he were holding it in his hand. This was a feeling he would not soon forget, and it would fuel his resolve for a long time to come.

Before picking himself up off the ground, he lifted his head, and with intent, drove his frustration hard into the ground. Cekell was angry, and the only one he had to be angry with was himself. Climbing from the ground, his discontent and disgust throbbed. Guilt and remorse prevented him from returning to his place of comfort. He silently stared up at the hammock for a drawn out moment before deciding that he could neither accept nor tolerate such weakness. 

After quickly erecting a barrier around his sparks, he darted off and through the hole in the ceiling of the cave. Cekell didn’t know why, but his chest was heaving. He wasn’t taking in any air, but his insides churned and boiled. Unable to do anything about the situation, yet refusing to do nothing, he was fit to burst. He was so wrapped up in protecting his new found comfort that he never imagined driving it away himself. 

The way Sphaere’s heart jumped when Cekell had looked into her memories was similar to the way it jumped when she landed next to the iron hoof as it was being devoured by insect hatchlings. Cekell had caused it to happen this time, and needed something to vent his frustration on. 

Channeling his aggravation into action, Cekell reached skyward with the intention of coaxing a bolt of lightning from the heavens. Nothing happened. Surprised yet impatient, he tried again, this time coupling anger with his aggravation. Still nothing. 

Cekell’s eyes went wide with disbelief. If he could not call what he wanted to his side, he would tear it from the sky. Finding a charged particle from above, he intended to do just that. He could feel something welling up from deep within him as he latched onto the particle with all his might. Gritting his teeth, he poured everything into ripping this charged particle from the starry heavens above him. 

Failure. Cekell was perplexed, and this only instigated his anger. Rage racked his body for a moment as he trembled. Wild eyed, he glared upwards, and his anger was shattered as something crashed into the barrier above him. It didn’t make a sound as something landed on it and slid downwards, but the fluctuations in the luminescent bubble above him caught his gaze. 

It wasn’t a bolt of raw energy created from the friction of the air currents above him, but it was indeed something, and Cekell wondered if it was created by him. He hadn’t given much thought to how he had been manipulating energy, in truth he had just been latching onto energy around him and drawing it to him, then brandishing or throwing it on a whim. 

Calming himself, Cekell searched for another charged particle to latch on to. It wasn’t hard to find one, there were many; but the more he could line up in a row, the more efficiently he could call it to himself. Feeling it out, he realized he had been using the Astral Point within him as a crutch for energy manipulation. 

Taking a moment to consider the situation, he erected a barrier. Nothing seemed unusual, but then, he had more or less copied what the turtle dragon had done. He could tweak it, but was more or less just emitting a form of energy. Something felt slightly off, as though he had accidentally used his off hand, or an axis of movement had been somehow inverted. 

Clenching down on the particle above him, he tried to pull it down. It didn’t seem to budge, even with Cekell pulling rather hard. He didn’t let go, but couldn’t tell if he was accomplishing anything. Having realized he was using the Point as a focus, something of an anchor that remained stationary as he directed (or in the case, attempted to direct) that energy to. 

Having switched the Astral Point for the Umbral Point, his control over energy had apparently been greatly affected. While it had no effect over his ability to emit energy or mold that into a barrier, he was finding himself unable to draw upon the same external energy reserves he had been relying on until now, or at least prevented him from channeling them in the same manner.

Unsure of what else to do, he set his mind to wrestling the charged particle he had latched onto out of the sky. Where it would normally jump into his grasp, now it seemed to resist his efforts. Almost as if it were stretching out rather than sliding to him. Having forgotten his frustration, he set himself to finding out how to compensate. Raw energy in the form of lightning had proven itself to be both an effective and convenient tool in dealing with threats. Without it, he was disarmed and uneasy. Also, of course, he was simply curious.

Holding firm but getting nowhere, Cekell started to worry. Would he be able to protect his sparks if something happened? Sphaere’s kind smile twisting into an agonized grimace flashed into his mind, and he found his resolve. Necessity spurred him on, and he pulled until he felt something shift. Not knowing what to expect, he let go and released the tension. Exhaustion creeped in, and he fell to a knee, but he succeeded in keeping his attention on the barrier above him. Whatever he was doing, it was a wholly inefficient.

There was a short delay before something came in contact with the barrier, sending a ripple of light along its surface. Whatever had made contact was small, and slid down the side of the barrier. Not achieving anything resembling satisfactory results, he chose to go investigate, but not before peeking down into the cave to check on his comfortable place first. Seeing that everything was indeed fine without him, he turned and silently charged into the darkness. A curious Verakry followed from a distance.

 

“Instead of retrieving the Astral Point… You lost the Umbral? Does that sum up the result of your efforts? Do you even have any idea exactly what it is you’ve lost?” Kade asked calmly, but did nothing to hide the fury flaring up in his eyes. 

“Yes sir.” Devose answered equally calmly, but without meeting his father’s gaze. “And I’ll get it back. I’ve returned for a weapon, as soon as I’ve acquired it, I’ll-”

Kade cut him off, “Go and waste more time? What makes you so confident you can get it back? You were the one that lost it, correct?”

“Verakry was correct. You’ve been coddling me. I’ve spent some time out there, and I’ve learned much. I’d like to apply what I’ve learned to a weapon, something larger where I can apply maximum force to minimum surface area. Something meant for swinging, not so much thrusting. I’d like to be able to bring my full weight to bear, like an axe, but more focused; or perhaps something that will piece, rather than simply hack. I need it to be heavy, very heavy.” Devose explained.

“And you want me to snap my fingers and present you with such a weapon?” Kade questioned.

“No, but you can contact Verakry, he’ll be able to accommodate my requests as well as… assess my capabilities.” Devose answered. 

There was a short pause before Kade responded with, “So be it. He certainly won’t coddle you. Don’t disappoint him.” Before turning to leave.

“Father-” Devose started, but was quickly shut down.

“I have other matters to attend to, give me some results, then I’ll give you some of my time; of which I have none for failures, understood?” Kade interjected without turning back to look at him.

“Understood.” Devose cringed as he said the word. He understood that he wasn’t good enough, so he must try harder, or continue to be denied the acknowledgment he so dearly craved. Afterall, it was a son’s duty to earn a father’s recognition, was it not?

 

It did not take Cekell long to reach the edge of the barrier as experience had taught him to be cautious and he did not want to be away for too long. He passed by many curiosities, including leaping off of a seemingly sleeping iron hoof. While he wanted to investigate, he was spurred on by a sense of urgency. With a one track mind, he raced to his destination, allowing no obstruction to hinder him.

Upon arriving at the point in which he was certain that the object which collided into the barrier had slid down to, he was unable to find anything. Cekell wasn’t even sure what he was looking for, nor would he even be able to determine anything that looked out of place. While he hadn’t expected whatever it was to jump up and greet him, he quickly lost interest in searching.

Deciding he was better served reattempting to pull another of… whatever it was that he had wrenched down earlier; he took some time to compose himself before locating, latching onto, and straining to pull down another… something. Being in a hurry did not help matters, but they did highlight how much he was straining in order to accomplish his goal. Cekell was used to just throwing himself at his problems (quite literally, and in more ways that one, in a number of scenarios) and that being the end of it. Trying hard wasn’t something he was used to, and only increased his sense of urgency. 

After a few minutes of pulling to the point of overexertion, he finally felt something shift. Tension turned to anxiety as he waited for something to happen, and fortunately he would not have to wait long before something about his size came crashing down into the barrier before him. On impact the object shattered and scattered, with the larger pieces landing before him, just on the other side of the barrier.

Diverting his focus from the object to the barrier, Cekell reached out and placed a hand on it. Upon making contact with the edge of the barrier, he felt out it’s frequency and fluctuation. As though it were second nature, he spread out his own barrier to match, and when they came into contact, melded together and permit passage.

Reluctantly, he pried his focus away from the barrier, and back to the object he had sought; he would have to explore the barrier some other time, as he really did want to return as soon as possible. In his haste and without hesitation, he nonchalantly reached down and snatched up a fragment of the object, and immediately regretted doing so. 

 

Tellamar looked into the eyes staring back at him in the reflection of the glass tube that contained his daughter, and for that moment all the world stopped. Weary eyes from a drawn out, uphill battle were pried open from surprise and dulled in disbelief. They were his eyes, but they didn’t shine with his intelligence. These eyes were as devoid of answers as he was of options, and stared back at him coldly. Without making a sound, without moving a muscle; unblinking and unyielding eyes took in the scene before him.

Alarms denoting the vitals of his daughter screamed out, but did not reach him; all he could hear were his own desperate thoughts of, “What now?” Years of careful planning, fortunes squandered on the smallest of possibilities; no effort, no cost was spared, and all of it was in vain. Failure. His life’s work, and it may as well have been ash.

As a father, he did everything he could. As an intellectual, no one could have gone further. Tellamar failed, and there was nothing left to do. Nothing but to mourn. That was what broke him. He didn’t just lose the last of his family. He didn’t just fritter away his life running a fool’s errand. There was absolutely nothing more he could do. All his brilliance, all his efforts, all his means, and all his desperation lead him here - lead him to the end of the line. There was no more path, there were no more steps to take. It was over, there was nothing more to be done; and that broke him, denial from on high.

He stared down at his daughter, a silent angel encapsulated in something meant to move heaven and earth that she might have a path of her own. Now it was an altar of false hope. A coffin. 

She was gone, and now there was nothing left. Unless… Tellamar gasped, choked really, before throwing himself at a terminal. What father wouldn’t do anything to save their daughter? If there had been warning signs for lines that shouldn’t be crossed, would he have heeded them? No, he would have ran over anything that stood in his way. The only thing that was forbidden was failure, desecration be damned. He would trespass on the divine and piss on holy ground if it would save his daughter. If it would save his daughter, he would even…

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