Chapter 33: Demon

As I catch our conscious, I think of a quote by Joan, “Never a dull moment.”

According to Petra, the entity that fought with such feral ferocity is a fragment of Gaia. My mother told me many years ago that Gaia’s the primal spirit of the earth and from her spawns all that exists. Gaia supplies the world with its life. Considering our earlier battle, I believe it.

That leaves me wondering how the gemchainers stored part of Gaia’s soul in a gem. While Petra pounding through that massive steel slab with ease lessens my surprise, I shiver at the capacity of a fully formed Gaia. Either of their feats defy my comprehension, so I determine that I know a small portion of this world's knowledge. I'll need to rectify that if I intend to defeat either.

As I lay in my bed, my thoughts continue to race, but fatigue slows my mind until I fall asleep.

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As I dream, the darkness around me fills with white while I float in space. The waning darkness reveals a monolith made of malachite. Once fully revealed, twelve emerald orbs generate a circle unveiling around the monolith. They radiate holy light, and their splendor unveils a seed at the peak of the monolith shaded in darkness despite the green glow nearby.

The seed pulses and grows curling vines of wood and leaves surrounding the figure until a bipedal entity appears resembling a woman’s form. It raises its arms outward, and as she reaches her full extension, roots spawn from the twelve orbs surrounding her.

The roots shift and move with steady speed as trees and shrubs grow from their foundation. Life of all kinds spawns as a forest forms growing a canopy over the wooden deity.

It opens slits on its neck and sides while a serene voice that would calm seas says,

“Awaken little one.”

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Light enters my eyes as Luke pushes against me saying, “Yo. You’ve got to wake up man.”

I nod my head stretching my arms while yawning. The exhaustion of yesterday’s conflict debilitates my normal awareness. Deluge's coma explains the exhaustion. His tampering must mitigate the weariness whenever I neglect sleeping enough.

My breath also reeks when I normally have neutral scent, and my morning stiffness sticks with me longer than before. I’ll thank Deluge for all of his adjustments after he wakes up.

Leaning up, I notice my own nakedness. Deluge removed my clothing before last night’s peril. I should thank him for his efforts later. As I turn sideways, the frame of my bed snaps shaking me off balance as Luke bursts into laughter.

“Haha, you really let yourself go. Haha.”

I roll my eyes as I say, “I doubt that’s the problem.”

As I stand up, I look at my body noticing the oddness of it. Instead of flowing sheaths of muscle, ragged and overlapping fibers shift under my skin inserting into my joints in odd places. The mirror in the room exposes my structure allowing my observation.

My grayish tan and large hands generate an intimidating aura even without considering my 6’0 frame. My hair shortened and turned black despite never having cut or dyed it, and my shoulders broadened further. I remain somewhat aesthetic despite this thanks to the bulk of my frame, yet my muscular definition alienates me.

The best example is my bicep. Instead of one muscle, three muscles show themselves each with differing angles and structures. One connects my forearm and shoulder like normal, another connects my forearm and upper arm, and yet another connects my shoulder with my upper arm.

The overall effect leaves me looking like a strong and efficient abomination. I shrug my shoulders. Not so bad compared to what I expected.

Luke says, “Man. You look kinda...I don’t know...Weird?”

I nod my head gesturing my hands outwards as I say, “Yeah, I do.”

He lifts a hand saying, “You look strong as hell though. It makes sense considering how good you are at fighting.”

I meet his gaze as I say, “That and breaking beds.”

Luke suppresses his laughter while I don my clothes noticing a tightness around my shoulders and waist. Deluge consumes gargantuan amounts at night time, and my eating during the day exacerbates the issue. I’ll need new clothes at this rate.

Luke and I head our separate ways as I trot towards music class. I pass by several footsteps lodged in the earth along with craters and scratchmarks lining the walls of several buildings. Deluge’s primary strength has always been his subtlety I suppose.

I reach my music class right on time to the smile of Professor Brixworth. As we commence another lecture on the basics of musical play, I notice Antoinette. The fingers along her right hand expose fresh callouses that glow red while a pink mark on her neck shows her having played the violin a great deal. The signs bring a smile to my face.

I tune back into the lecture, but boredom pounds against me along with my weariness from earlier. My eyes wave open and shut until my weight cracks the desk shocking me from my stupor. I look around alarmed as Brixworth says,

“Now tell me Jack. What are you looking for?”

I look at him saying, “Uh...An instrument.”

He places his hand on his chin saying, “Why would you need one during my lecture?”

After a lapse of thought, I gesture a palm outwards saying, “I’m sorry to say this, but my ability outweighs the difficulty of this course. I think I will journey to the auditorium and play rather than listen here if you wouldn’t mind.”

He claps his hands once before saying “Well then, if you suppose yourself so able, I will accept your request under one condition. You must play one of your own orchestrations in front of the class.”

“Done.”

He squints his eyes as he says, “You’ve written music my boy?”

I smirk as I say, “I dabble here or there.”

He grins creasing his full mustache as he says, “Then let us go class. We’ve an impromptu symphony to listen too.”

He walks to the back of the room where he inserts a key into a wooden wardrobe revealing several violins. As he takes one out he says, “Now be careful my boy. This is school property, and we wouldn’t want a 50 gold fine on your head.”

I nod taking the instrument noticing its well proportioned frame and superb balance. Mareovosa spends money wherever it can I suppose. We walk towards the auditorium as the students chat of their daily struggles and difficulties while Brixworth and I discuss different techniques on the violin.

We reach the auditorium where everyone sits down as I walk up the stairs onto the stage. I warm up with a series of scales while tuning the instrument before I begin my melody.

My initial notes begin like a sunrise. Streaks of orange pass overhead as the sound evolves from a faint glimmer to a majestic shine, but as the sight shows all its splendor, I veer from the sight as it blinds all who gaze upon it.

Even as I gaze away from the light, its influence reflects from the clouds overhead hinting at the sun’s significance. I tremble the note lowering my gaze. The wings that once propelled me from the sky snap under my own weight.

As I fall, frenzy and fire surround me as I launch towards the earth. I wobble the notes with visceral intensity mimicking my own descent until I depress my play with a jolting shift. I permeate the room with my despair. I orchestrate the vision of an angel falling from grace, and the bitter hatred of the crippled creature bound to this filthy earth.

Whenever my play ceases, a booming round of applause cannonades through the room as Brixworth says, “Bravo! Bravo! Good work lad. You’ve done well, but I believe, with a few adjustments and a little more passion, you can do better.”

I raise an eyebrow as I say, “Really? What would you suggest?”

He moves each of his hands while leaning up and down as he says, “A few adjustments with the flow of your notes and the orchestration will make your work easier on the listener. I also believe that will allow you to inject more of your ardor in your work.”

I lower my hands from my neck as I say, “Would you be willing to illustrate with a presentation?”

He beams a grin as he says, “Since you insist.”

He walks upon the stage to the cheering of the students. I entrust the violin to his able handling as I leap from the stage with the same poom sound as usual when I land. As I walk over to the other students, he begins his play.

His initial notes remind me of Joan’s play, and over the next several minutes, his play transforms from reminiscent to a copy. He executes each of the note without flaw, yet none of his passion for the craft translates. He must have taught her since he bottlenecks his play with the same overuse of perfection.

In many ways, a perfect performance falls short of an imperfect one. Perfection yields a flatness that in the end bores the listener while even minute mistakes may throw them off balance gaining their attention.

With a flawed performance, the symphony’s peak of feverish vehemence contrasts with the newfound excellence accentuating the display.

I employ this tactic except without using flaws. I wield abrupt shifts and unorthodox techniques for my impact. Brixworth's play glides smooth as an eagle, and the polished work eases my ears, yet no emotion stabs at my chest. No passion punctures my skin.

Despite this, His work still proves excellent. Learning his techniques will prove useful, so I captivate myself with his music until he halts his performance with a steady drop in the note’s pitch. The class room applauds with less frenzy than after my performance, but Brixworth elates over his success heedless of the comparison. His confidence overcomes any of his doubts about his excellence.

I say, “That was an excellent show. Well done.”

He grins as he says, “But of course. Do you now understand what I meant earlier?”

I lift my hands facing my palms outwards saying, “In my own way.”

He nods murmuring, “Good.” He looks towards the class shouting, “Does anyone else wish to perform?”

The class’s gossip halts as they shake their heads. Brixworth continues, “Since we are here however, let us practice some of the basic techniques we went over last class.”

They pass around the violin I brought playing in front of the class as Brixworth chides them. This process speeds along with each student executing varying degrees of awful, but I keep my opinions to myself as no reason exists for smashing a budding musician's passion.

They must practice in order to develop, so the best instruction involves highlighting the pleasures of the craft. This enjoyment drives the hours of practice that follow, and that is what improves a musicians play more than anything else.

After the session, I pace towards the astronomy building dreading the next hour and a half. The content of the course bores me, and within moments of sitting and listening to the lecture, I sleep through the entire seminar. At least the nap refreshes my spirits before I jaunt over to the gemchaining building. Damn, that is a mouthful.

As I enter the GC, Joan detonates sound through the empty room that leaves wide spaces full of unused equipment. She alone trains, so her turbulence pierces the air with a particular acuteness due to the lack of other sounds.

In the middle of the display, Joan hastens her pummeling upon the target dummy. Vicious, primal attacks blare deep thuds through the room drilling kinetic force through the dummy as she whips her strikes and dodges the imaginary blows of an unseen opponent. The suave display ignites both fear and anticipation of her teaching as I watch following her movements with my eyes.

After several minutes of the impressive performance, she grabs onto the dummy’s shoulders heaving for breath, so I walk up saying, “What a savage display of skill.”

She stands straight up tensing her back as she gasps, “Oh, uh, didn’t see you there Jack. I was just unloading some steam.”

I laugh at her response as she looks around, and I say, “You’ve nothing to hide Joan. I’ve seen your ferocity, and I’m rather taken by it.”

She rubs her right elbow with her left hand as she looks away saying, “I believe that someday the ferocity may transform into masculinity. Sometimes I just feel so manly.”

I grab my chin as I observe her saying, “You do have rather broad shoulders.”

She meets my gaze with pursed eyebrows and squinted eyes, but as I brush her waist with my fingertips, I say, “Yet they support a brave heart.” I lean closer. “And seductive features.”

She hooks my hand inching it down the sleek leather covering her side as she says, “Oh, do they now?”

As I redden, she giggles pulling my hand closer to her voluptuous hips as she says, “Looks like you’ve lost your way again, sailor.”

My heart pulses in my chest as my thoughts numb. I reach towards her nudging the back of her head as I pull her lips against my own. As a soft sensation blankets my lips like warm velvet as I caress her sleek hair. She pushes against me with one of her arms in surprise, but I overpower her nudge pulling her body against mine with a tender strength.

As our lips melt against one another, my breathing accelerates as her supple chest presses against me. I embrace my hold on her hair pulling with a delicate squeeze. I caress her ass as my fingers sink into her luscious body.

Her thigh rubs against mine as we press against one another. The smell of rosemary and lavender flows from her silky skin as my mind collapses under the pressure of lust. We lose ourselves in the moment.

After this epoch of awesome, Joan pushes against me separating our lips. She pants for air with a flush face. The pounding of her heart pulses her skin against my fingertips as I caress her neck. I say,

“What’s wrong?”

She mumbles, “We can’t keep doing this here, and I’m all sweaty and nasty, and I smell bad-”

I lean my forehead against hers arching my neck. I interrupt, “You smell perfect, like flowers in the light of day. Your skin feels like soft silk...You’re enchanting.”

She presses her hand against her cheek as she says, “Didn’t you want to take this slow?”

I lift my head from her as leer down saying, “Didn’t you wanna take it fast?”

I lean back down towards her lips, but she places a finger on my lips saying, “Later, please?”

My eyes widen, but after a moment I nod while saying, “Alright...I’m sorry about pushing you. I didn't wish to divide us. I wanted to be closer.”

I loosen my grip as she pushes me away with her fingers lingering before we separate. She says, “On the contrary, I found you're boldness rather sexy.”

I raise an eyebrow as I say, “Really?”

She rolls her eyes saying, “Yes, really. We’d best start training. I don’t know when Petra and the others will get back.”

I snap my left hand’s fingers as I say, “That reminds me to ask. Where is everyone?”

She clamps her fist seething, “They’ve been hunting a hideous, shape-shifting demon.” She pauses then hisses with hatred, “The damn mongrel stole The Remnant of Gaia from the school.”

I wince at her words as she berates Deluge, so she looks up mollifying as she sees my discomfort. She continues, “I’m sorry. The Huxley family prides itself for its devotion to Gaia, and I take it from them, so I took the loss personally.”

I nod gesturing a palm outwards, “We all hold something sacred. It’s natural to express your ire, but that leaves a question unanswered. Why did you stay behind?”

She looks around saying, “Well, uh. Whenever I heard about the event I responded...poorly. I might have even had a tantrum.”

Flashes of her slamming her helmet after I fought her flash across my eyes as I nod saying, “You do have a rather testy temper. Me and you both share that quality.”

She smiles saying, “Great minds think alike.”

“But not the same.”

I grin as I walk to an arena, saying, “Let’s start our practice before the sun sets and tomorrow begins.”

We train much like yesterday for two hours of sweltering effort, but after the session, we reach the library where Joan wishes to study. The construct’s gray onyx reflects the torches’ cerulean glow, and the sight inspires my saying to Joan before we enter,

“The torches along the outside of this building resemble the color of my mother’s hair. She loved books as well.”

Joan raises an eyebrow saying, “She had blue hair? Was she an aquarell?”

I scowl saying, “Aquarell?”

“The aquarell are a race of ocean dwellers. They use leviathan ants for labor and phosphorescent creatures for light in their underwater cities. Think of them as sea equivalents to the geshians.”

I raise my hand outwards as I say, “I assume the geshians are a land species?”

She stops walking as she reels back saying, “Their a race that lies in the forests at the center of the continent. Surely you know that?”

I look around by moving only my eyes as I say, “Uhm. Yes.”

She shakes her head while pinching the bridge of her nose. She then points her hand at me saying, “How can you not even know the primary allies of our kingdom?”

As she speaks, I begin to understand my ignorance. I don’t know the kingdom’s name let alone its history. My father focused entirely on my musical talents or his latest topic of interest rather than any normal subject.

I had an inkling of my inept knowledge already since my lack of mathematical skill surprised even Antoinette. Now the gaps in my learning gape like trenches after an earthquake.

So after an awkward pause, Joan continues, “How much schooling have you had Jack?”

I shrug my shoulders saying, “Very little.” I raise my left arm pointing upward continuing, “I believe myself learned in life however.”

She squints her eyes scrutinizing me for a second before she says, “Hmmm. I thought you were a prestigious member of the Donovan Family, so I assumed you had access to excellent tutoring till now.”

I balance my hands as though shifting a scale as I say, “My parents taught me what they could, but I’ve yet to learn many things about this world. Consider my upbringing an insulated one.”

She places her hands on her hips as she says, “Well I’m not dating a moron. Get ready to beat this illiteracy out of you.”

I crouch downwards letting my arms slacken as I say, “Must we? I would rather focus on other, more interesting duties.”

She leans on a single leg as she says, “Either you educate yourself, or we’re done.”

I frown saying, “It was lovely knowing you.”

She stands back onto both legs letting her arms hang on her sides. I chuckle at her reaction before I continue, "And I would chronicle all that exists if it meant staying together. Come on, let’s get started.”

We enter the library with rows of bookshelves lining the floor to the edge of the building. There, a revolving staircase leads to yet another floor with bookshelves lining its entire expanse creating a tessellation of wood and books that consumes all of my vision.

The knots in the wood imply the use of hickory in the shelfs, floor, and walls that shows hundreds of indentions and scrapes, yet the aged appearance only adds to the ancient and precious feel of the books.

Instead of appearing decrepit, the age brings a value and depth akin to an antique treasure. Each book stores vast vaults of knowledge while the scent of worn paper overwhelms my honed sense of smell. The atmosphere reminds me of a suave old man. The debonair spawns from his experience adding to his charm.

We reach a series of tables and chairs surrounded by rows of books from all angles giving the impression of privacy. Here Joan begins her tutelage. She elaborates on the aquarell and geshian's alliance with our kingdom apparently called Bichen.

As lectures bore me, I interpreted the history for what it truly was - a story. The empire of Bichen began with the man himself having united many city states into one entity. He lived his life expanding his empire by conquering the surrounding territories until he died with an arrow through his chest during one of his many great battles. He lived as a man of action and bloodshed, yet his sons held no such fate.

They only fought amongst themselves as they all desired the power their father retained. With their strife fueling the fires of division, the empire collapsed into three factions as they battled until the geshians allied with Bichen’s oldest son, Nelastra. They united the states together forging an alliance that lasts to this day.

The aquarell prove far more mysterious. As they rest during the day, few have seen their cities, yet the tales of their luminous luster enthrall me. They slide and soar through the water without resistance while they live in harmony with the creatures of the ocean. They use jellyfish for lamps and other creatures for their tasks.

They even battle using the leviathan ants Joan mentioned earlier, but the their champions use enormous crustaceans called deafening fires. When they strike, massive explosions detonate under water killing all that stands before them. These discussions exhilarate me satiating my curiosity.

I wish to see such sights before my end, but this relentless study begins to kill me with slow, methodical torture. Boring fact after boring fact without meaning assaults my poor mind. No interesting incidents nor compelling causes evoke my passions. Only the useless droning of unrelated fact followed by another unrelated fact.

Yet I retain what I hear. Joan’s statement was final, and I will not allow some trivial difficulty to separate me from her. I bend my attention as I recite her words and facts in my head as though engraving my principles on stone. Instead of dwelling on the knowledge’s frivolity, I think of the facts as building a chain that connects me and Joan.

Yet after three hours of focused consideration, my mind wanders as my thoughts explore my own daydreams and delusions. My thoughts sink towards my earlier lust, and right as I embrace Joan in my dream, a loud BAM sounds shocking me from my stupor.

I raise back from my chair glancing straight at Joan’s fist on the table then at her. She glares at me as she says, “Have you been listening at all this whole time?”

Deluge chimes, “I have been. Let me recite what she’s spoken so far.”

“What if you-”

Deluge shoves me from my conscious as he says, “I’m not going to crush your relationship, but your lack of focus will.”

I let him take over as I say, “This is a terrible idea.”

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After I shift my shoulders while clasping my hands, I say with confidence, “You’ve discussed the geshian, aquarell, Bichon, Terile, and Macaedine cultures and histories. The geshians are a culture that involves themselves with nature. They sacrifice aspects of their sentience to Gaia for their own quality of life.

As we are a society that worships Gaia, they allied with us versus the other factions during The Great War of Fracture. The aquarell remained neutral, yet they assisted the geshians as they worship Gaia’s power rather than the entity itself. We view them favorably because of this.

Terile is a rival empire, but we’ve maintained peace for several years now. They harbour a Remnant of Gaia as well. Must I go on?”

Joan’s eyebrow raises as she says, “You were asleep. How did you understand everything?”

I grin as I say, “I own keen ears.”

She leans towards me with eyes squinted as she says, “You seem...different.”

“Care to explain?”

She leans on a hand saying, “You seem almost arrogant all of a sudden.”

I tilt my face so that I gaze down on her as I say, “Almost? I suppose my disposition hasn't shifted far from its norm then.''

She raises an eyebrow as she says, “You're usually rather humble. I would say it's near irritating at times, but you carry the quality rather well.”

I say, “As you're a scholar who battles, I am a fighter who observes. You have many faces Joan, but so do I.”

She looks around as she says, “Uh. Yeah. Alright. Well, this is an excellent stopping point. I think we’ve been studying too long and you're starting to fry.”

I lean my chin against my hand leaving a single finger tracing up my cheek as I say, “Excellent. I have an appointment later today I need to attend to.”

I stand up lifting several books as I say, “I shall return these for you. Goodbye.”

I turn around as Jack shoves me from control. I handled the conversation rather aptly I thought. At least he isn’t viewed as an idiot.

Regardless of his distractions, we will discuss the matter with the souls. He evades me for now, but there is much I need to say, and there is even more he needs to hear.

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I jump back into conscious stopping Deluge from spouting more nonsense. I turn back towards Joan saying, “I’m sorry Joan. I’m just feeling off today. Do you still wish to study tomorrow?”

She snaps, “If you can stop being an ass.”

I give her a mischievous grin with squinted eyes as I say, “Then it’s a date.”

As I turn back around she says, “Review on this before tomorrow. I don’t want to reteach you.”

I wave my hand as I walk away saying, “Thank your professor Joan.” I grin as I look back at her continuing, “Though I wouldn't mind more of your teaching.”

She cracks a grin, so I assume I mended Deluge’s damage. Fixing his lack of tact proved simple enough, and I extend to him saying,

“Leave the talking to me next time.”

“Hah, if you could listen then my interference wouldn't be necessary.”

“Fair enough. What’s happening with the souls?”

Deluge Snarls, “Repairing these entities will take an enormous span of time.”

“But you can repair them?”

“Yes.”

I sigh in relief before saying, “That’s amazing.”

Deluge snaps, “The only amazing part of this is the wicked nature of humans. We must stop this.”

I say, “Let me think for a moment.” I check out the books Deluge grabbed before thinking to Deluge, “The easiest way to solve a problem like this may not be to tackle it directly. We may need to incorporate more finesse.”

Deluge growls, “We should consolidate all the beasts who use souls like this.”

I cringe for a moment as the implications of his words dig under my skin with rusty claws, but I reply with a semblance of sanity, “Alright. Do you remember Petra slamming the iron door open?”

“What of it?”

“Do you not believe that such overwhelming force offers at least some danger to us? And the scale of such an endeavor may take hundreds of years. Hell, if they keep training people to gemchain, we will be adhered to perpetual combat for all time."

I raise my eyebrows as I think, "Lets think of a less blunt and murderous solution."

Deluge roars, “I will not watch as the souls of creatures are rended apart without reason!”

His words inspire an idea. I say as I lift a finger, “I think that’s what we need most.”

Deluge hisses, “What?”

I say, “We have to learn why people gemchain. I doubt they do so without purpose since gemchaining requires a plethora of resources. We will act after we learn more. Is that reasonable?”

After a moment’s pause, Deluge replies, “I hate, hate, HATE doing nothing...But your plan is logical. We shall try your method first.”

I smile as I say, “Thank you for your understanding. I know it's hard for you.”

He says, “Oh yes, I feel much better now that you understand.”

“I liked you better when you didn’t understand sarcasm.”

“Hah. I liked you better when you were unconscious.”

I concede, “Alright. That was clever.”

“I know.”

I roll my eyes as we arrive at my dorm. I enter through the now light wooden doors reaching my room. A whispering conversation begins as I enter, so I listen. They say,

“Woah, it’s Jack. I heard he killed a cave slime.”

“What? I heard he killed a tarantula slime.”

“Naw, he slew a behgydra.”

“That’s just dumb.”

“Yeah. Your right. Sally-”

As I tune out their conversation, I enter the dorm with Luke sketching a fassar. The sleek curves of the cat come together creating a vicious creature rendered with care exceeding my expectations, so I say,

“You never said you could draw. That's an excellent depiction.”

He leaps before he says, “Well you know. I uh. Hmmmm...I just saw your cloak and I thought it was cool, so I started drawing and I found it uh, absorbing I guess.”

I raise an eyebrow as I say, “So you like fassars?”

He raises both hands turning towards me as his eyes widen while he says,

“Fuck yeah. They are the coolest things ever. They leap from trees onto their prey tearing them to pieces as they hold them down with their super muscular necks. When they run, their fur blurs if it's night making them near invisible. Their so badass.”

I take off my cloak gesturing towards him as I say, “Would like it?”

He squints his eyes as he says, “What?”

I signal the cloak towards him again saying, “Would you like this cloak. It’s made of fassar hide. You like fassars.”

Luke looks around then points at himself saying, “What? That’s worth a fortune, and I’m sure it has a story behind it just like your sword.”

I grin as I throw the cloak at his saying, “Would you like to hear it?”

“Well yeah, but I can’t take this Jack. This is worth a fortune.”

I sit on the floor leaning against my bed facing him as I say, “You listening to me at the inn the other day meant more than this cloak does, and I have another cloak that far exceeds its value.”

His jaw gapes as he says, “What? No way. Bullshit.”

My grin dampens as I say like a old tale teller who only owns sad stories, “Would you be willing to listen to another of my stories? This one is rather sad however.” I take out my father’s cloak saying. “Here is the priceless mantle.”

Luke inspects it inching over each detail before he says, “This is just a fox cloak. This is only worth two gold tops. Give this to me instead.”

I open my hands “Well the value of an object rarely depends on the actual object. Its what the object represents. In my case, this cloak represents irreplaceable memories that sweeten over time. Those memories are my stability on unsteady seas. "

A small grin laces my face as I continue, "You see, I was once a boy. I laughed each day with my mother and father enjoying guiltless days without worry. These moments are beacons of my past. They guide with a holy scripture. They offer divine light amongst oceans of hellish darkness. They are my center."

My eyes darken as I say, "However, one day during a journey across foreign lands, a bolt of lightning from the sky decimated the carriage we were traveling in. The light blinded and deafened all who could hear or see the sight. The very ground quaked. The stars wept. Nothing was left after such a cruel inundation by nature."

My eyes harden as iron creeps into my voice while the air around me decays as I say, "My father expunged across the carriage. My mother barely lived through the ordeal. Her skin peeled from her body as I pulled her. She bled and wept tears that scarred my soul and mangled my spirit.”

I close my eyes as as my voice cracks, "She...she sung of the joys of life and the depths of darkness. She gave her last breath in order to show me the might of the human heart. She gave me the last line of her life. She bestowed in me a will so deep, endless chasms cast tribute for my reckoning."

I gaze at Luke with softened features as I say, "And so this mantle remains my only means for maintaining their memory. It means much to me, though it worth little."

I close my eyes stilling the the trembling of my emotions. After several minutes, Luke says staring at the wall, "Yenno. I used to think I had problems. I would often get bullied by my older brothers and by people at school. My mother even gave my older brothers all the best presents while I got all the hand me downs."

He closes his eyes saying, "But I didn't realize just how awful some people had it."

He looks at me opening his eyes. "Everyday's a struggle for you Jack. I think...I think I need to change. when I hear you talk, you make it sound like your alive. You may suffer, but the way you talk about what happens to you...Its like everyone else is living through a ball of cotton by comparison."

He looks at me with fire in his eyes, "I remember reading the Magna Alma and remembering a specific line. 'Those who tread closest to death and despair are closest to Gaia, as they walk in the wake of his shadow.' I don't want to suffer, but I don't want to sit here avoiding the trails of life either. I want to walk near that shadow."

My voice laces with stone as I murmur, "Its a hard, long road. You may yourself bludgeoned and battered and beaten."

He nods saying, "But some roads are worth walking."

I lose my grim air as I say, "Well, you would be surprised at your potential."

His eyes harden as he says, "Not anymore." He closes his book before continuing, "Its getting late. I'm off to bed. That was a pretty epic story. I think you should write it down someday."

I roll into my broken bed saying, "Someone just might. Who knows. Goodnight."

"You too."

Before I fall to slumber, I think towards Deluge,

"He would be surprised just how close I am with Gaia."

Deluge says, "He isn't ready for such a crucible. He will fall in the face of crisis."

"I thought the same of myself, yet here I am."

"Hah, only because of my backing."

I smirk, "And who's to say there won't be someone to back him as well?"

"Hm. I suppose time will tell."

I say, "Rather wise words... Oh, Deluge."

"What?"

"Try for a more shrewd approach tonight.”

“Hah, hah, hah. Of course.”

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