Moonlight spilled through the open window, bathing Crius's room in a soft, silvery glow. The gentle rustle of leaves outside and the distant rustling sound of crickets created a serene background, broken only by the faint scratching of his quill as he finished the last line in his notebook. With a satisfied sigh, he set the quill down and leaned back in his chair.
The desk before him was cluttered with papers, a half-melted candle casting flickering light across the worn surface of an old book. Crius gazed at the freshly inked notes beside it, his young heart brimming with the thrill of discovery.
He had spent hours poring over the Bloodline Aspects book, carefully recording what seemed to him the most important points from its pages.
At the top of his notes, he had written:
Bloodline Aspects.
These were no ordinary traits or skills but special powers, awakened only after a human reached the age of 13. Crius read over his first note aloud, his voice hushed in the stillness of the night:
"These aspects are tied to the eight great concepts that the Origins embodied throughout their lives."
He paused, letting the weight of the words settle in the air.
His gaze drifted to the list he had copied from the text:
Nature (Gaia)
Destiny (Moir)
Creation (Phaestus)
Destruction (Perses)
Retribution and Balance (Themis)
Light (Aether)
Each word carried an air of mystery, as though even writing them down imbued them with a quiet power. Crius traced the last concept lightly with his finger. His kingdom's reverence for the Light was well-known, but the book didn't delve further into its meaning than it had for the others.
The flickering candlelight seemed to waver as Crius turned his attention to the next section of his notes. His youthful curiosity mixed with skepticism as he mumbled lightly, his voice barely louder than a whisper.
"Even if the idea of Bloodline Aspects sounded absurd, the powers derived from them weren't always strong or dramatic."
He tilted his head, considering the thought. The book had gone into detail about how not all aspects were the life-changing gifts many imagined. Crius scribbled a line under the heading in his notebook:
"Powers vary between passive, scouting, defensive, supportive, and offensive."
Some people were born with abilities like healing, tied to the concept of Nature, or the rare gift of controlling fire, drawn from both Destruction and Nature. Others had scouting powers, like the ability to sense danger or glimpse distant places through clairvoyance. Then there were passive abilities like enhancements to physical strength or speed that didn't manifest with flash or spectacle but could still make a life-saving difference.
Crius frowned slightly as he wrote, his quill gliding over the page. The text had also warned that not all aspects were a blessing, and that some were a curse.
He read aloud the quoted line that had caught his attention earlier:
"'Not all aspects are a blessing.'"
He sat back in his chair, brows furrowed. How could something as incredible as a gift tied to the great concepts of existence be a curse? The book hadn't explained it outright, leaving the statement hanging in the air like an unsolved riddle. Crius couldn't grasp how someone could be unhappy with a power that was theirs alone.
"Maybe they wanted something different,"
he muttered under his breath, attempting to reason it out. But the thought only left him more puzzled. To him, it felt like a dream, one he couldn't imagine anyone rejecting.
Still, the unease lingered as he continued writing, the words from the book replaying in his mind.
"The aspects of each person were unique," he read next, emphasizing the line with a nod.
"There are no repetitive aspects in the world." The thought struck him as both incredible and intimidating. How vast must the possibilities be for no two powers to ever be the same?
He set his quill down for a moment, his mind drifting. What would his aspect be? Would it be something grand, like the ability to summon storms or weave illusions? Or something subtle, like heightened senses or a protective aura? The possibilities were endless, but that only deepened his wonder.
Crius flipped to the next section of the book and leaned forward as the candlelight danced across the text.
The Mystery of Ascension
Here, the writing grew even more enigmatic. Crius copied the titles of the three known stages with care:
Mortals: Ordinary humans without aspects.
Awakened: Those who unlock their aspect after turning 13.
Saints: A mysterious and revered stage, rarely achieved.
The book spoke of ascension with a mix of reverence and caution, but the details were extremely insufficient. Crius underlined the line that struck him most: "Methods to ascend beyond awakening are hidden by the kingdoms." He stared at the words, brow furrowed in confusion. Why would anyone hide such knowledge? What was so dangerous about it?
He gripped the quill tightly, his mind racing with possibilities. Why keep it secret? If ascension was so extraordinary, why would the kingdoms conceal the process? Was it because it was too powerful, or perhaps too dangerous?
After a few moments of silence, Crius sighed, feeling the weight of the unanswered questions. There was no way to know for sure, at least not now. He set the quill down and turned to the final section of the notebook, his curiosity pulling him onward despite the lingering frustration.
In the final section the book had been clear about two types of aspects: bloodline aspects and normal aspects. Crius had understood the basics of normal aspects, those powers awakened in people at the age of 13, tied to the great concepts of existence. But the bloodline aspects were another matter entirely.
He quickly flipped to the part that mentioned them again, reading the sentences that had caught his attention earlier:
"The word bloodline signifies a genetic tie to one of the prime concepts."
"Bloodline aspects are both a gift and a burden, for they carry the weight of history, expectation, and often... secrets."
Crius felt a frown tug at his expression as he repeated the phrases softly to himself. "Gift and a burden," he muttered, still trying to make sense of it. What could it mean for something to be both a gift and a burden? The normal aspects were at least straightforward in comparison, they granted abilities linked to the eight great concepts, some offensive, some defensive, some subtle. But bloodline aspects? They were murky, too vague to grasp fully.
He read the sentences again, hoping for more clarity, but found none. The text didn't explain why bloodline aspects carried the weight of history, expectation, or secrets. What exactly made them different from the normal aspects? Crius felt as if the book was purposely holding back information, only hinting at something greater and more mysterious.
"Maybe it's something they don't want people to know," Crius thought aloud, his voice barely a whisper. He couldn't help but wonder if there was something significant hidden behind the word "bloodline." Was it more than just a family connection? Was it a secret power that came with a price, something only those chosen to bear it truly understood?
The vagueness of it all left Crius with more questions than answers, and yet, the curiosity still burned. There was clearly more to these bloodline aspects, but the book gave no answers, only fragments of information that raised more doubts.
Shaking his head, Crius sighed in frustration, closing the notebook.
As he turned to put the book away, his eyes landed on the second notebook; the one detailing the Healing Spiritual Arts. His curiosity shifted again, eager to explore what this new book might reveal.
With the same excitement as before, Crius opened the second notebook, to revise what he had written while reading the book. Shaking off the lingering confusion about the bloodline aspects, Crius shifted his focus, eager to explore the new subject in front of him. He reached for the second notebook, his fingers brushing over the worn cover as he opened it to the page he had marked. The title of the book, The Healing Spiritual Arts, seemed to glow faintly in the candlelight, its promise of new knowledge stirring his anticipation.
He began reading the opening lines, his eyes scanning over the carefully copied notes he had made:
Types of Spiritual Arts:
Supportive: Healing and protective arts.
Offensive: Techniques to incapacitate or harm opponents.
Crius leaned in closer, the flickering candlelight casting soft shadows across the pages. His heart quickened as he read on, absorbing the details about the different kinds of spiritual arts. Supportive arts seemed like something that would resonate with him, perhaps even one of the most useful types, considering the emphasis on healing and protection. He wondered if he could master such arts one day. But then again, the offensive techniques, the ones that could incapacitate or harm opponents, held their own kind of power.
As he flipped to the next section, his eyes locked onto the beginner spells that the book detailed in simple terms:
Beginner Spells Mentioned in the Book:
[Heal]: A basic spell to mend minor wounds. [Drowse]: A spell to induce sleep in targets.
Crius' fingers hovered over the words. Healing...such a noble and compassionate power. He could picture himself using it to help others, to heal injuries and make people whole again. The thought filled him with excitement. But then there was Drowse, a spell that seemed almost mischievous in comparison, designed to make someone fall asleep. It wasn't the kind of power Crius was as drawn to, but it still intrigued him. The book described these spells in such simple terms, as if they were within reach.
His mind lingered on the next section, where the book explained how to cast these spells. His gaze tightened with focus as he read carefully, absorbing each word with intense curiosity:
How to Cast Spells:
To cast a spell, you need:
Knowledge of its form and function. Proper hand motions and incantations. Enough mental energy, as spells require immense focus and drain.
The words resonated in Crius's mind like a gentle, persistent hum. Knowledge. Focus. Energy. He could almost feel the tension in the air as he imagined casting his first spell. A deep, quiet thrill surged through him.
Instinctively, without thinking, Crius mimicked the hand gestures described for the [Heal] spell, his fingers tracing the delicate movements in the air as he had seen in his mind's eye. He repeated the motions with a quiet determination, his brow furrowed in concentration, hoping for something...anything.
But nothing happened. His hands fell to his lap as he exhaled, letting out a soft laugh, embarrassed by his own foolishness.
"What did I expect?" he murmured to himself, shaking his head. "I'm not even an awakener yet."
Despite the quiet disappointment, a warm chuckle escaped his lips, the sound of his own youthful optimism filling the air. It wasn't the result he had hoped for, but the knowledge of what was to come.
The thought that one day he would awaken his own aspect, and maybe even perform these very spells, filled him with quiet joy.
With a deep, satisfied sigh, Crius closed the notebook, the familiar weight of it grounding him back in the present moment.
He leaned back in his chair, looking out the window where the moonlight spilled in, bathing the room in its soft glow. The world outside seemed so vast and full of possibilities, like a beautiful mystery waiting to be unraveled.
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he whispered to himself, his voice barely above a breath, "One day, I'll awaken my aspect. I'll ascend. And maybe…I'll discover all these secrets for myself."
The candle flickered once, its flame sputtering as the air grew still. Without hesitation, Crius reached out and blew it out, the room plunging into darkness. Yet, the thrill in his chest remained, the weight of the mysteries surrounding him still vivid, his heart alight with hope and excitement for the future.