Type of mage: Name of Affinity Patron

Aeromancer Aer Aeris

Hydromancer Aqer Diane

-Glossary of Affinities and their Primals, Nys’vera Aesterith’s Treatise on Mana.

In a cave, water plinked on wet mossy rocks as wintry air whistled through the grotto. Elsewhere, clinging to the speleothems were hoarfrost and icicles twinkling in the meagre light.

Despite the harsh conditions, life still found a way to flourish. In various forms, fauna abounded, scuttling, flitting, and flying through the biome as it punctuated the eerie gloom with its bioluminescence. More air sighed from an open skylight roofing the cave, while a deep hum reverberated through the subterranean hollows like a bass rumble.

Everything seemed like it would go on persisting as it had until it was rudely dispelled by the sound of heaving, as if something was in its dying throes. The culprit of this anomalous occurrence was a young human in their tweens coughing up fluid from their lungs. Wet and tangled auburn hair was plastered to his scalp while foreign garb clung frame, equally soaked.

It didn't take more than a passing glance to identify him as out of place, but he didn't realise it because his senses hadn't yet awakened. However, he would not remain that way for long as the light of high noon streamed through the yawning fissure on the cave's ceiling and fell directly over his face.

His closed eyes could do nothing against the harsh light lancing past his eyelids. He felt as though someone was shining a halogen lamp in his face. With a start, the youth awoke. Sudden breathing triggered another hacking, phlegmy cough as fluid went down the wrong pipe.

“Hmm? Where am I? ” He rasped, his blue and bleary eyes darting to unfamiliar surroundings. The oddity of his surroundings wrought consternation on his features the more he took in his surroundings. However, his awareness yielded nothing but the fact that he was on a miniature island in the midst of a small pond. The further he looked , the darker his environs became until they were cloaked in semi-darkness.

For someone who’d woken up in a strange place, his reaction was a tad underwhelming. It would have been understandable that perhaps his situational awareness left much to be desired because of his apathetic state of mind. That, or he was simply confused past the point of indecision.

However, as his mind caught up, a painful throbbing made itself known on the sides of his temples, as though his head was a few sizes too small. He would have been forgiven for thinking that his heart was now a rowdy cranial tenant hammering away in his head. That would not have been further from the truth if every attempt to recall his memory kept sending pain lancing at his eyeballs.

On the list of thorny things in his side, the aforementioned was nothing compared to the incessant thirst ravaging his already sore throat. While the feeling of having eaten a handful of sawdust scraped his throat raw, his tongue tasted of foul bile that heaved from a stomach still roiling with nausea.

“ Water,” he croaked painfully.

Ultimately, what took precedence of his immediate concerns was the chilly air nipping at his skin through his clothes. Sooner or later, the soaked fabric was going to rob him of all but the smallest embers of warmth. It was with much difficulty that he fumbled, unbuckling the harnesses from the contraption he was strapped into. Thereafter, he started undressing, stripping down to his underclothes.

Most of his outfit, including his shirt, undershirt, as well as his socks, boots, and pants, were all sopping wet. That his aviator jacket was the driest of his garments was a godsend. Its water-proof leather had trapped some of the heat from the shafts of light that had roused him.

Still perplexed at this state of being, his immediate conclusion was that some thunderhead had seen fit to baptise him with several inches of rain while he’d been unconscious . The rocks upon which his seat lay were fast losing their moisture, putting the occurrence at a few minutes past.

His mind had started catching up that something about his situation was wrong; to what extent, he had not had the headspace to discern. Unless he took care of his immediate concerns, there wouldn't be much thinking to do if his brain shut itself down due to hypothermia.

The first thing he did was take stock of everything that was familiar to him. Shivering, he sauntered beneath the strongest of the sun’s rays to get whatever little heat they yielded him. The closest thing on hand was his watch, a glimpse of which showed a wonky compass bezel. The northerly pointer kept rotating whichever which way, as though the poles oscillated about the planet’s axis. The second closest thing was the seat he found himself in.

‘ The seat!’ He started, coming to a realisation. Then his thoughts cut off, fuzzing as a mental wall blocked the rest of his remembrance. He winced as he felt another twinge of pain go driving through his head, and he immediately aborted that course of action. Until his head didn't feel like someone was constantly trying to press a vice against his temples, he would leave the mental heavy lifting for later.

‘Right... the cold’ he remembered. Stripped down to his underwear, he wrung and hung his wet clothes to dry on the seat's arm and head rests. Chattering teeth made him clench his jaw as the rattling movements exacerbated the pounding of his head. He rubbed at his elbows to try to coax some heat into his goosebump peppered skin as he tried to look for anything in his environs that would provide immediate relief from the wintry situation.

“Brrr,fire...” he muttered, flexing his pruney fingers, which ached along with the rest of his joints. He felt as if he’d been tossed through a grinder. Unbidden, another figurative headache announced its arrival through the gnawing sensation emanating from his empty stomach. On cue, his stomach gurgled.

“Great, now I’m hungry,cold, and blue,” he smiled deprecatorily. He was lost, cold, half naked and hungry. Things seemed like they’d hit the bottom of the hill. The only place lower than that was hell.

The youth ambled along the periphery of the rocky islet, scampering back every time cold water lapped the shore. It was then that he saw something bobbing on the pond's surface. For an indeterminate amount of time, he stared at the object, turning the familiarity of its features in his mind; then it clicked. Finally, something else that was familiar! It tugged at a memory somewhere in the back of his mind, but he could not place it where he remembered it from.

Unfortunately, the object’s location was beyond the reach of anything he had at hand. After some hesitant contemplating and sighs of swearing, he was soon dunking his feet in the water. He intended to test how much cold water he’d have to endure to get what he wanted. Resolute, he slowly waded into the pond but immediately regretted his folly. Precarious footing on dank, slimy pebbles acquainted him with a cold, jaw-locking bath that made his chest muscles spasm.

Despite this fact, he stubbornly clung to that thread of familiarity that edged him towards the object floating in the water. The water came up to his chest as the bank continued to slope further into indeterminate depths.

Nonetheless, his muscle memory kicked in. From an awkward flail every time his muscles cramped in the water, he transitioned into the graceful strokes of an athlete as he swam towards the floating object. For the first time, something seemed to be going right for him.

Sure enough, the youth secured his find. He floated on his back, hauled it onto his chest, and gripped its leather straps by his teeth. He kicked his legs backwards, using a practised backstroke to propel himself towards the little island’s banks.

Upon the pebbled shore, smooth from years of abrasion, the youth lay catching his breath. Heaving from exhaustion, he cast a sidelong glance at his haul. He’d fished out a genuine leather duffel bag, brown and hand stitched. Even scuffed from years of use, the leather bag, like his aviator jacket, had held its own against the water—a fortuitous occurrence given the circumstances.

A closer examination yielded a luggage tag still attached to one of its double zippers. As he grasped for it, the pristine appearance deceived him as the paper came apart; the lamination had let it water. Much to his dismay, its print was smudged from running ink, rendering the letters ineligible.

Frustrated, he tossed it aside and opened the zippers, hoping that its contents had not suffered the same fate; he was not disappointed. Inside, lay a set of clothes, untouched and dry as the time they’d been packed.

The youth rummaged further, unearthing another pair of shoes in a Ziploc bag that were just the right size for him. Aside from that, he discovered some random baubles and personal items, such as a used pocket knife and phone.

However, none of them were the focus of his search because he was looking for food. Even a measly morsel or a crumb was something he'd not have cast aside.

Digging deeper into the bag availed him an assortment of lunch bars and a water flask containing iced tea quenched his thirst. Thereafter, he found a beach towel, which was a welcome find for drying himself. Finally, he could make use of his other clothes to keep away the cold.

For the time being, he thought himself out of immediate peril. Some creature comforts and dignity later, he diverted his pursuits to finding his bearings. Another glimpse of his watch put the time at four o’clock in the afternoon. He was well within his rights to be rather sceptical because his shadow was in the twelve o’clock position. That meant he’d either lost time or gained some; he didn't know which was which.

Looking skyward through the crevice, he spied the clouds taking on heavier tones. A draft began to pick up somewhere in the cave as he felt the ambient temperature drop even lower. The man shivered.

Suddenly, he picked up on the scent of ozone pervading the air amidst the scent of musty humus and other unrecognisable things. Rain was undoubtedly in the forecast; he could at least tell that much. He shuddered to think that all the effort he'd put in thus far would be watered down if he didn't find shelter. Another wet towel for his troubles.

‘Erm, I guess I’ll go deeper into the cave?’ he thought as he frantically packed his half-dried things and clutched his soggy boots by the pits of his arms. Eyeing his surroundings through the diminishing illumination, he frowned ‘ Can’t say I like going in blind. And it's so cold too. The hell? I guess summer is not forever; I wonder where I heard that?’’

A few moments later, the youth swam in undisturbed waters as he charted a path across the lake. He kept an eye out for unsavoury things that would have made the water their home. Per expectation, the frigid draught got weaker the further he swam, but in return, the depth of the water plunged sharply.

Without the trapped air in the duffel bag buoying him, he would’ve been in peril. Some parts were too deep, perhaps twice his height. Also, visibility was getting poorer as the clouds continued to converge above the fissure in the cavern’s ceiling. He could only hope that his paranoia of an untold creature lurking in wait for him was ill-founded. Need one repeat that he could only hope?

The youth was more than three quarters of the way to the other side when the once tranquil water started rippling as an eerie electric blue glow lit from its depths.

‘What in the blue?!’ He swore as he furiously kicked his legs. It was to his horror that the water grew increasingly turbid as indistinct silhouettes glided from the depths.

Whether by human instinct or otherwise, the hair on his nape stood on end, a precursor to something terrible about to happen. His intuition was screaming at him to get out of dodge, so he paddled for all he was worth.

As soon as he reached the other side, he threw his bag ahead and scrambled for purchase atop the rocky bank. He almost slipped on the colony of algae, almost skinning his knees in the process. Despite the unstable footing, his bare feet found purchase where the smooth pebbles had given way to silt. A burst of adrenaline had him scrambling clear of the pond’s shores.

On autopilot, the youth extracted his pocket knife, holding it in a reverse grip. He did not bemoan the futility of a utility knife as his choice of weapon. Anything that counted as sharp, cold steel that he could interpose between a threat and his squishy flesh was alright in his book. All that mattered was that, if worse came to worst, he could mete out just enough pain to make making a meal out of him unrewarding.

With bated breath, he waited for his pursuers’ appearance, and they were not long in coming. The glow that announced their proximity increased with every passing moment, so much that he could see more of the cave from where he stood. The scent of ozone in the air grew heavier, prickling uncomfortably against his skin like standing next to a live electric cable.

Whatever predator he was about to face, he thanked his lucky stars that he didn’t have to fight on their turf. That was asking for a one-way ticket to an excruciating death by electrocution, drowning, and maiming. His mind imagined giant mutated eels, because that was the only thing that could generate an aura that smelt like air after a lightning strike.

Anxiety made him want to run further into the cave. Yet, it was his morbid curiosity that shored up his false bravado . So it was that the young man’s emotions warred, swinging from one extreme to the other with the tenuity of a rocking pendulum as he waited to encounter the residents of the pond.

The water started frothing, giving way to a pair of inky black eyes. A flat head ending in a snout featured whiskers followed by external gills that branched behind its neck like a mediaeval nobleman's medici collar. And the outlandish creature that was neither a reptile, a fish, nor an amphibian, was easily the length of a gator.

The closest approximation was if someone had crossed a catfish with an axolotl and pumped it chock full of growth steroids. The dendritic appendages forming its external gills crackled with electric currents, giving the air the smell of burnt rubber.

For the youth, there was no time to debate the peculiarities of their biology because the battle had already been lost before it got underway. As soon as the creature cooed, the man grabbed his bag and ran.

The youth half-stumbled and half-ran, putting distance between the strange creature and himself. With the cavern lit up like the stage at an electronica concert, there was no argument that there was more than one of them. He beat a hasty retreat till he could no longer see the illumination from the cave.

Only the adrenaline coursing through him drove him on, half naked, boots under his armpit, and a bag weighing on his left side. There was no time to put on shoes and clothes when his life was on the line. Regardless, the uneven ground underneath or the cold that annoyingly nipped at his body was of no consequence to him.

After an undetermined amount of time had passed, when his lungs burned and his feet were raw from running, he slowed. He ambled on, his navigation reduced to groping at the cavern's rugged walls. He was still determined to put prime nightmare material behind him. The further he went, the less craggy the tunnels became.

Gradually, bio-luminescent flora and fauna began to colour his surroundings from overhead. The ceiling was so high that he had to crane his neck to see the stalactites hanging overhead. Home to a colony of indistinct glowing creatures, they made for an awe-inspiring sea of scintillating stars.

However, some stalactites were noticeably bare of the things and hung haphazardly like several Damoclean swords. That promptly dispelled the remainder of his cheer, giving him an urgency to keep moving even as the muscles in his thighs and calves burned. Annoyingly, the dip in the lake started its own portion of the dividend of cramps.

The further his feet carried him, the richer the biodiversity, until he was bathed in the glow of light from several different colonies of moss and luminous mushrooms. He gave both a wide berth; nothing screamed toxic more than a neon puffball.

Were it under different circumstances, he would’ve enjoyed the scene resplendent of the nights on a fictional planet with blue-skinned giants. Now? He was avoiding the walls like the plague.

He shuddered, jumping out of the way of a mushroom puffing its luminous spores. ‘ I feel like I should start losing hair and having the skin melt off my face just from standing close to these things. I hope they’re not radioactive’ were his thoughts.

‘Even if I can’t seem to recall stuff, there is no way this is supposed to be normal.’ The last thought opened a pit in his stomach, the loss from knowing there were things he'd forgotten rearing its ugly head . He longed to sit down for a spell, gather the tatters of his thoughts, and rest, but his immediate surroundings were no place for such luxuries.

It was no surprise that his awareness drew inwards as he was lost in his thoughts. He became oblivious to the rumbling that emanated from further in the tunnel. He didn't even notice that the walls had turned completely smooth—until his frivolous slog snapped something underfoot.

“Scat!” He swore as he flinched away from the sudden sound. His nerves were fraying, and his situational awareness was in tatters. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus before rushing headlong into something he would regret.

Two breaths, five, ten passed as the migraine casting deliria over his mind settled to a dull throb. Hesitantly, he opened his eyes and paid more attention to his surroundings. It was then that he noticed the bones scattered around him. They were all in various states of decay, past the point he couldn't trust to step on some without splinters for his troubles.

He turned his gaze lower and saw that he’d stepped on a skull and flinched. One of its canine teeth had narrowly missed getting his big toe. He gingerly stepped away from it.

It was a hominid skull but definitely not human because its salient features were rather bizarre on a child-sized cranium. Looking closely, he could tell it wasn’t a child’s either; the dentition was all wrong. Children had no business having all thirty-two of their teeth and canines as big as a thumb.

A realisation dawned on him; the graveyard of skeletons and their positions looked like the aftermath of a chaotic battle.

A veritable pile of junk lay around them, like the remains of fungi-infested leather shoes, rusted sword hilts, dented helmets, and chain mail corroded into red-brown ferric dust.

Some bones looked scorched and covered in soot, while others were in various states of dismemberment. And they were still wearing whatever they had died in.

Dread crawled up his spine as unease knotted around his guts. The culmination of everything he’d experienced so far paled in comparison to the grim reminder of his mortality.