Marcellus made his way through the cobbled streets, his senses overwhelmed by the cacophony of life around him.
The market smells were a heady mix of roasting meat, fresh bread, and the acrid tang of sweat and dirt. The air was filled with the cries, the clatter of carts, and the ceaseless hum of conversation.
As he ventured deeper into the city, the scenes grew more colourful. A group of street performers captivated a small crowd, their bawdy play filled with innuendos and slapstick humour. Laughter erupted from the audience, a mix of ladies trying to hide their amusement and commoners guffawing openly.
Further along, Marcellus passed a section of notorious taverns, its reputation for brawls and debauchery well-known. Rowdy laughter and off-key singing spilt out from its open windows, along with the occasional curse.
A burly man stumbled out, clutching a bottle, only to be greeted by a sharp-tongued washerwoman who scolded him with a string of colourful expletives that made even Marcellus blush.
At a nearby corner, a group of governor's guards lounged, their conversation riddled with crude jests and lewd comments about passersby.
Marcellus did not particularly have a high opinion of these guards on the island they reminded him of his village 'guards' from Wisbech who would occasionally make jokes about his mother's past.
Marcellus continued, his thoughts turning to Old Man Aulus. The old man was a well of knowledge and rumour, a living archive of the city's secrets and tales. He was the sort of man who thrived on the energy of the streets, the kind who knew the pulse of the city as well as the secrets hidden in its shadows at least that was how Finn described him.
Marcellus felt anticipation as he neared Old Man Aulus's dwelling, a modest house tucked away in a quieter part of the city.
The old man's insights could shed light on the mysteries that Marcellus grappled with, offering a perspective honed by years of observation and understanding after all he was a sequence 7.
Stepping away from the noise and vulgarity of the streets, Marcellus approached the door of Old Man Aulus west of Mythralis. He took a moment to compose himself, leaving the rawness of the city behind.
In the recesses of Aulus's dwelling, the walls bore the weight of time, cloaked in layers of rough-hewn stone, mud mortar, and sturdy bricks. Above, a thatched canopy stretched, offering scant protection against the elements. A solitary brick chimney punctuated the rooftop.
Throughout the previous fortnight, he had been drawn into an unusual camaraderie with Aulus, one that saw him undertaking a medley of tasks: hewing timber, tending to the piscine denizens of their aquatic realm, and addressing sundry chores. As the days passed, he became intimately acquainted with the nooks and crannies that defined the dwelling's layout.
Knocking on the door, Marcellus waited, the familiar sense of intrigue.
The door creaked open, revealing Old Man Aulus in his customary attire, a patchwork of worn fabrics that seemed to carry stories of their own. His eyes, sharp and weary beneath bushy eyebrows, lit up with recognition at the sight of Marcellus.
"Ah, Blackeye! How is Finn's training?" Aulus's voice was like gravel, seasoned with age.
Marcellus stepped inside, the interior of the house a stark contrast to the city's chaos. Shelves lined with scrolls and odd trinkets covered the walls. The air was heavy with the scent of old parchment and a faint hint of Incense, Beyond that Marcellus felt an unnatural coldness as he usually did every time he met Aulus.
"It should be soon, I think his body is about prepared to start breathing training" Marcellus began, his voice tinged with urgency. "However there are mysteries at play, and I find myself at a loss."
Aulus, with a gesture, invited Marcellus into his abode to occupy a small, cluttered table. As Marcellus unravelled the tapestry of his mysteries, his voice trembled with uncertainty, reminiscent of a haunted soul recounting a harrowing tale.
"I don't possess vivid recollections," he confessed, his gaze distant and haunted.
"But I came into possession of this diary by rather coercive means, wrestling it from the grasp of a cook who had threatened my life. From the moment this diary slipped into my possession, an enigmatic cascade of events unfolded before me. It was during my time within the Viper, that I first delved into the forbidden pages of this diary."
"The specifics of that period elude my grasp. Yet, in recent days, a disquieting truth has crystallized within my mind – I was not myself during my tenure with the Viper, my actions veiled in the shroud of an unseen influence, one that I now suspect to be the malevolent legacy of that accursed diary. I beseeched you with my fears, Aulus, seeking solace in your reassurances that all was well."
Aulus listened intently, his expression a blend of concern and deep thought as Marcellus recounted his tale. The room, with its walls, became a little darker as the sun completely set and seemed to close in around them becoming a little colder, as if eager to hear the secrets being revealed.
After Marcellus finished, Aulus leaned back, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "This diary you speak of," he began slowly, "I suspect it's more than just a collection of ink. I suspect It's a vessel, a conduit for something much older and darker."
Marcellus's heart skipped a beat. The diary had been a source of enigma and trepidation, but Aulus's words painted it in an even more sinister light.
Aulus continued, "The way you describe your time with the Viper, the gaps in your memory, the feeling of being under an influence... it's indicative of a powerful curse or enchantment. Perhaps this diary has a will of its own, an ego, bending those who possess it to its unknown purposes."
Aulus's eyes, reflecting the flickering lanthorn, held a depth of knowledge that seemed almost otherworldly. "The world is full of objects that are more than they seem, relics of ancient powers and forgotten epochs. This diary, it could be one of those; An artefact" he said, his voice low and steady.
"Tell me, Blackeye," Aulus leaned forward, his gaze piercing, "have you noticed any specific patterns or symbols in the diary that recur? Any strange languages or scripts? What language was it written in? When did you start behaving normally again, in other words, when did the abnormal influence on you end?"
Marcellus nodded, recalling the bizarre diary. "Yes, there are no symbols I noticed or remember, although I remember reading in Valar well I am sure it is written in Valar because at the time I could only read Valar. I remember reading the thoughts of the author, they seem alive, almost... whispering. Yes like murmurs that happened a few days ago. I remember everything clearly after I killed the Wereshark"
Aulus's brow furrowed. "That's not uncommon for Artefacts. Valar huh,"
"The gaps in your memory and the sense of influence," Aulus mused, "it suggests that the diary may be manipulating your perceptions, perhaps even your actions. It's not just a passive recorder of events; it's active, sentient in its own right."
Marcellus felt a growing sense of unease. The diary wasn't just a curiosity from his past; it was a sentient entity, with motives and desires of its own. This conclusion made his hair stand on end.
As the conversation continued, Aulus's curiosity seemed piqued by another aspect of Marcellus's experiences. "Tell me about your encounter with the wereshark," he urged gently. His eyes, weary in the candlelight, reflected a keen interest.
Marcellus recounted the harrowing encounter, describing the fearsome creature in vivid detail - its immense strength, the terrifying transformation, and the primal ferocity that it had displayed. He spoke of the battle, the surge of adrenaline, and the close brush with death he had experienced.
Aulus listened intently, nodding occasionally, his expression thoughtful.
Mhmmm, it is natural; this makes sense, he murmured, more to himself than to Marcellus.
"It follows that as you strengthen your ether body, akin to a sword saint. Such a development, that you become less influenced by the diary, is indeed intriguing."
Marcellus absorbed Aulus's words, realizing the implications. The progression in the strengthening of his ether body might have inadvertently provided him with some resistance to the diary's insidious influence, well not resistance more like clarity.
"This is a significant realization," Aulus continued, his tone serious.
"Your growth and development as an Aspirant could be key in understanding and countering the effects of the diary. It's a double-edged sword, Blackeye. On one hand, your advancing abilities offer you protection; on the other, I might be wrong and you will die."
what I will die? don't curse me like that!
"According to the mainstream way of mysticism, the non-physical parts (soul) of a human are split into four levels. They are the Spirit Body (Soul Body), Astral Body (Astral Projection), Body of Heart and Mind and Ether Body."
Aulus, sensing Marcellus's need for a simpler explanation, nodded understandingly and began to elucidate in more straightforward terms.
"Let's break it down into simpler pieces, Blackeye. Think of the non-physical part of a human as having four layers.
First, we have the Ether Body. It's like an outer shell and reflects your life force and physical state. When people with spirit vision see auras, what they're seeing is this Ether Body. The aura's characteristics – its thickness, brightness, and colour – can tell you a lot about a person's health and emotional state. But remember, the Ether Body isn't something tangible; it's more like a manifestation of the energy that flows within you.
Now, when you practice those breathing techniques you've learned, you're essentially enhancing the energy in your body. As a result, your Ether Body, being a direct manifestation of this energy, also becomes stronger and more vibrant.
Moving deeper, there's the Spiritual Body, or what you might call the mental body. This part is crucial as it acts like a shield, protecting your Astral Body and Soul from external influences. It's the foundation where you accumulate power and the vessel where this energy is stored. In essence, it's your spiritual reservoir and defence mechanism rolled into one.
So, in layman's terms, starting from the Ether Body right down to the core, which is your Soul. Each layer has its significance and role in your overall spiritual and mystical well-being."
Aulus paused, ensuring Marcellus was following along. "Does that make more sense to you now?" he asked, his eyes reflecting the wisdom of one who had walked these paths for many years.
Marcellus nodded, his mind racing with the possibilities. The path of an Aspirant was fraught with dangers, both seen and unseen. He couldn't even use spirit vision.
"The diary remains a mystery, one that you should ignore if you can, if you can't you will have to investigate" Aulus advised.