The dewdrop slides down the vein of the leaf, hanging from its tip for a moment, shimmering under the first rays of the sun. It drops down onto the forehead of the sleeping man leaning against the trunk of the tree. He frowns slightly and as his eyelids flutter open, he takes in the sight of the sunlight streaming through the canopy.

Turning to his side, he finds his wife studying his face with great interest while sitting on a rock with her chin resting on her hand. With a booming laugh, he rises with a spring and gently pulls her up, taking care not to jolt the seven-month-old embryo forming in her stomach. Drawing her by the hand, he walks back to the camp of his people.

Conical tents made from hide and wood bustle with activity as the camp comes to life to greet the new day. Spotting the chef, the man calls out to inquire about the menu for breakfast. The portly man turns around to answer when all of a sudden, the tail of an arrow sticks out from his throat. His eyes that are normally narrowed into slits bulge out from the shock. Sputtering blood, the cook stretches out his hands in a silent plea towards the man. One staggering step, then two and he falls down on his face. He’s dead.

Recovering from the shock, the man embraces his wife and dives behind a nearby tent to take cover as the bugle warning of an enemy raid resounds through the camp. It is too late as the cavalry soldiers come bursting out of the treeline, the sunlight from behind them creating a halo and casting deep shadows that obscure their faces.

They charge into the camp like troops from the netherworld, their lances sinking into the flesh of whoever stands in their way. Arrows fly over their heads and into the camp targeting all irrespective of man, woman or child. The man runs through the maze of tents, with his wife in his arms, towards his own.

As the Chief, he must fight for his tribe and the weapons he needs are there. As he traverses the chaotic camp, he finds pockets of resistance popping up around the martial warriors of the tribe. Their Aura flaring as they batter into the cavalry, shredding horse and man. Arrows bouncing off their Theca harmlessly, they rampage in the enemy lines until they meet their matches in the form of enemy martial warriors.

The man finally reaches his tent in the centre of the camp. Leaving his wife with an injunction to stay safe inside the tent, he rushes out with his bow and quiver of arrows.

Concentrating Aura into his legs and hips, he charges diagonally across the enemy line of fire, keeping in the cover of the tents. Enhancing his eyes, he nocks, draws, twists and fires in smooth continuous motions. The Aura Enhancing the muscles of his arms and his back allow him to use the entirety of his strength and beyond without which he would be unable to pull open the heavy steel bow.

The arrows leave the bow leaving vapour trails behind in the moist morning air. Spinning rapidly, the tip and tail twist in opposing directions, taking the arrow in a slight curve that balances out into a straight line. They embed themselves into the heads and hearts of the enemy archers, halting their barrage as they dive for cover.

Running into an open area, he halts and using the strength of his whole body, bends the bow into a full moon while Enhancing it with Aura. Three consecutive arrows made of steel make a sharp keening noise as they fly towards the silver armoured leader of the invaders.

The first arrow seems to flicker in front of the enemy leader’s chest ignoring the distance between them. Armour glinting under the sunlight, the leader drops his spear and extracts a silver sword from his waist and tries to knock the arrow away. The emblem of the kingdom prominent on its hilt.

The explosive Aura stored in the arrow detonates upon contact, pushing the leader back, making his mount rear up on its hind legs to counter the momentum. The second arrow appears at this time, impacting the chest of the mount. Despite it being an Aural beast, the mount, a horse with scales all over its body, is no match for the combined momentum of the arrow and the explosive Aura. Its Theca is penetrated and a large crater is blown in its chest. Neighing in pain, the unbalanced mount falls backwards on its rider, inflicting injuries and disorienting him.

The enemy leader rolls away from beneath the beast just in time to greet the third arrow. A silver shield with two lion heads placed head to head appears in front of him. The shockwave from the impact blows away the injured mount and any other soldiers nearby, rupturing the eardrums of those without Aura. Most of the impact is neutralized by a layer of Aura on the shield, which explodes outwards on contact, while the rest of the force causes him to slide several metres backwards. The Conjured shield reverts back to Aura as the leader stands up.

Collecting his spear, he charges towards the Chief of the tribe, leaving craters wherever he treads. The Chief moves backwards explosively, shooting an arrow whenever the distance gets too close, using the recoil to spread apart. The battle devolves into one of attrition as the flames of war rage all around.

As they fight, the Chief notes that very few tribesmen have died due to the battle. Most have been incapacitated. The term ‘slavers’ comes to his mind. The battle leans towards the invaders as he is tied up by their leader, leaving their archers unbound. Their superior armour and equipment means that the tribesmen do a lot less damage with their bows.

Out of a total of three hundred of the swallow clan tribesmen, around hundred are combat capable, thirty of them having awakened to Aura. The Chief and his wife, the clan shaman, are the only two mages. The sixty invaders are outnumbered, yet they are the elite with thirty of them being martial warriors and their leader being a mage. The pregnancy of the Chief’s wife incapacitated her and the ten-man squad of scouts, having two martial warriors, had already been intercepted, leaving the tribe outnumbered in terms of martial warriors.

The Chief shoots another arrow at the leader but instead of blocking it with the spear as he had been doing all this time, he conjures his shield again. The explosive layer of Aura nullifies the recoil and he pushes onwards through the impact. Finally closing the distance, he pivots on a foot, pouring the strength of his entire body into a spear thrust. The Chief begins to dodge before realizing where he is. Somehow during the battle, he has been guided to his tent and if he dodges, the attack will fall on his defenceless wife and unborn child.

With a primal scream of rage, he releases the entirety of his aura concentrating it on his shoulder and Enhancing it to block the thrust. The leader grins like a fiend as his Aura at the tip of his spear explodes, changing its trajectory. It pierces through the weakened Theca on the Chief’s chest and comes out on the other side. He staggers backwards off the spear and coughs up blood as he desperately uses his Aura to Enhance his healing factor and stem the bleeding but the wound is fatal, a part of his heart having shattered.

The Chief’s wife, unable to watch on anymore, comes out of the tent and embraces his creaking body with tears in her eyes. Her eyes steel with determination as her Aura explodes out of her and she screams, “Freedom or death.” The Chief desperately tries to prevent her but fails as the blood in his windpipe renders him mute.

Her Aura spreads over the battlefield and resonates with that of every conscious swallow tribesman, be they martial warrior or the un-awakened, be they man, woman or child. The black light of Curse emanates from each of them and latches onto the invaders, most of it concentrating on their leader and the martial warriors. The invaders scream and writhe in agony as the corrosive curse light eats away at their life force while the tribesmen fall to the ground soullessly.

The reason why the swallow tribe could survive in the beast infested Southern Wilderness was their community curse technique. Their Aura were quite similar to each other and after being planted an Aura seed during a baptism ceremony at birth by the shaman, they could combine themselves and Sacrifice their lives to reduce their opponent’s lifespan. Thus, Aural beasts, who were quite sensitive to danger, left them alone as the gain did not equal the loss for attacking them.

The Chief’s wife lovingly caresses her stomach. Shrouded in the curse light, her tears drench the Chief’s face as she bends down to kiss him one last time before pouring the black light into him and going limp as life leaves her. Her last words reverberate in his mind: “Live on for all of us and exact vengeance.”

The black light merges with his Aura and enters into his core and then reaches deeper until he can perceive a transparent orb. He subconsciously knows that it is his soul. When his Aura mixed with the black light touches it, it trembles and blooms in radiant splendour, absorbing all of it. The soul radiance mutates into a black light and it takes the form of a swallow as the resentment and hope for revenge of the entire community is imprinted into it. As his soul expands, so does his sensation strength. Floating in the black light, he finds another transparent orb. This one is tiny and when he inspects it, the feeling of being connected and dependence radiates off it. His heart trembles as he realizes that it belongs to his unborn child. Without a body to support it, it dissipates as he watches. Desperate to save it, the swallow enfolds it within its wings and before it can react to prevent it, the immature soul instinctively touches it.

Memories of floating within the womb, warm and protected, submerge the Chief as the souls fuse. His eyes snap open as he revives, his heart repaired by his wife’s sacrifice. Tears streaming down his face, drained of Aura and unable to pierce the leader’s Theca, all he can do is grit his teeth, depress his hatred and carry the limp body of his wife as he runs into the densely forested mountains before the invaders can recover.

He runs through the forest doing his utmost to hide his trail. After a few miles, his newly repaired heart nearly gives out forcing him to stop and recover. Discarding his heavy bow and arrows, he starts running again with his wife in his arms. This time he lasts for another mile before he leans against a tree, clenching his shirt above his chest, gasping for breath.

Looking down at the pale face of his wife and her swollen stomach, his eyes blur. Her last words reverberate within his being and he gently lays her down inside the hollow of a tree. Gathering dried leaves and twigs from all around, he covers her. Sparking a fire with some tinder and a branch spinning in his palms, he lights the makeshift pyre, covering the hollow with vines to delay the leakage of smoke. Then he walks in the opposite direction, the smoke a decoy to put the invaders further off his trail. With each step his eyes darken until they seem like a portal to a bottomless abyss. And in their depths a swallow screams of its resentment to the world.

The sun travels on its eternal journey from horizon to horizon as the man numbly walks deep into the mountains, stopping from time to time to chew on leaves to replenish his moisture content. As if sensing his mood, storm clouds gather in the sky and as the sun sets, with a sudden thunderclap, it begins to rain.

With every step, he can feel his body failing, his newly repaired heart deteriorating with each beat. His soul moves restlessly, feeling the failure of its mortal shackles. The wind picks up and the drenched man feels that it is indicative of the unrest in his heart. His Aura spreads out, farther than he has been ever able to spread it before. He seems to merge with nature as the wind and rain flows around him, leaving him unaffected as he trudges up the sloping ground.

He feels connected to the world and his soul resonates with its rhythm.

When he reaches the summit, his soul’s sensation stretches for mile upon mile centred on him, he can feel the Aura of each living thing, from the overbearing presence of Aural beasts to the infinitely subtle breath of the trees. He feels some of the Aura they leak out into the world gathering on individual creatures while the rest dissipates into the world where it becomes nourishment for all lives. He names it Aether.

Guided by an instinct from the depths of his soul, he draws upon the Aether and a vortex forms around him. His soul cries out as endless streams of energy pour into it, making it substantialize. Pointing at a city he can sense, he releases his soul into the world.

His soulless body combusts as the Aether vortex loses control.

Protected from dissipation by the layer of Aether surrounding it, the swallow speeds off towards the city, searching for a suitable host.

It finds a boy whose Aura has a high conjunction with its own. With a noiseless cry, it slams into his soul.

Then there is pain.

…

As the morning sunlight filtered into his room, Cyn Pavone awoke from his dream with a sharp intake of breath. Sweat had soaked his night clothes and bed and the pillow was wet with his tears. Getting out of bed, he poured himself a glass of water to assuage his thirst.

Sitting cross legged on the bed, he sank into a deep meditative state as he inspected his soul. The swallow had undergone several changes. Its neck had elongated and several plumes had sprouted from its bifurcated tail, resembling those of a peacock.

The curse light surrounding it had also been diluted quite a bit. A sign that his souls were merging. He hoped that the process would terminate before the Awakening ceremony as he knew how dangerous it could be even without adding an unstable soul to the mix.

When he opened his eyes, they shone with a spooky brilliance which was gradually restrained.

After all, for a new chance at life, nightmares were a small price to pay.