Some tales tell us how Grim-Earth, for all its wonders and beauty, is a world steeped in misfortune and sadness. The High God, everlasting in his wisdom, sought to become even closer to his children, his essence dispersing out into the cosmos, becoming one with everything. He gave shape to the formless entity known as the soul, his essence becoming one with it, and all humankind, the infernal kind, the Celestial kind, all nature, all the universe…. But those are just some tales.
The truth lies in something much more sinister, a mistake that could not be unmade. The High God's greatest mistake that inevitably led to his demise. For all of his immortal and divine qualities, his constant need for companionship had led him to create humanity. Creatures that had been created from his grief and pain formed from his blood when it met the earth and sea. It was in man's nature to take from the High God, and if they had taken his blood, what would stop them from taking his flesh? What would stop them from taking and unraveling the very essence of his being… the answer is nothing!
The mistake he made was humanity. Because, unlike his other creations, the marriages of the earth and sea could give birth to life. Man and woman became father and mother and soon so too did sons and daughters and their own sons and their own daughters. On and on, growing, multiplying, dominating. With each new human life brought into the world, the High God lost more and more of himself, his very essence, the Source of all creation, serving as fuel for the birth of the human race. And that's why, till this day, the widely accepted name for a human soul…. Is The Source, and it is with this Source that man can do…. Magic.
Anonymous.
Azrael left his workshop a lot later than he had expected. Thomas was not going to be happy about it. Perhaps he could get the old man something to calm him down. He'd just swing by the open market and find something worthwhile for Thomas. Or perhaps it would be better to just head on home. Thomas was sure to appreciate his presence more than if he had gotten him a gift. Besides, Azrael had made it a habit of always getting Thomas random things whenever he felt like he might have pushed the older man a little over the edge. And he had been doing that for years. Their home was littered from top to bottom with random trinkets and accessories that Azrael kept 'rescuing' from the streets. He sighed. In the end, it seemed he was going to end up going to the open market after all.
Azrael liberated his motorcycle from the building's garage and made his way to the southside of the city. Chae city had three markets; the open market was the common market. There you can find a host of things that had to do with grimoires, but it was also a mundane market, so one of the best places to get your fresh groceries. It helped that the Open Market was right by the harbor too, so it was the first choice for a lot of goods that were shipped to the Island city.
Azrael loved the open market though; the stalls and different sections were so fun to traverse and just window-shop…. Well, it was something that passed as fun for Azrael. Not because it felt particularly enjoyable to him, but he somehow enjoyed the experience as it meant he got to learn. People from every work of life; the Path-Walkers and the common folk. There you will hear about how much impact grimoires and the path-walkers that use them have on society. Often, you'll get caught by a sales agent trying to peddle off the latest Grimoire-Tech. He'd tell you about some recently discovered speed spell card that could even go up against the forces of time, or a cleaning spell to undo the most stubborn stain your draws ever gained. Rather odd advertisement angle though.
At the very least, Azrael assumed the conversations always ended that way. He made his way quickly through the market, heading for the thrift stalls at the south-eastern end of the open market. Azrael also wanted to be done with this as he'd rather avoid another run-in with any of the numerous Covenant gangs that aimed to run the harbor. And without a Grimoire of his own, Azrael would rather avoid any sort of trouble…. The last time they had crossed paths, he ended up spending a few days in a jail cell, right next to an Irate police cadet, Emilia, and Thomas himself. Emilia never forgave him for that incident. Apparently it was traumatic for her to get locked up with her own father. Thomas admittedly just wanted the whole thing to end.
Azrael paused, his feet turning to point him in a different direction as he felt a pulse of mana in the air. The very atmosphere seemed to be charged with it, a presence that was thick and cloying. It overwhelmed his senses. This was dangerous. Whatever was letting off these massive waves of mana, it had to be quickly contained. Azrael began to move in the direction of the mana, relying on his natural talent to sense and manipulate ambient mana to track the source. Soon enough, he came up to an old fisherman's stall. Immediately, Azrael ignored everything else that was on display and pointed at what had drawn him here; a pitch black river stone that had been carved into it, as if it was some sort of diamond or coin. However, on giving it a closer look, Azrael realized it was not a river stone, but some sort of ore, and his senses were going haywire because the mana the ore was releasing was Death Mana.
"What can I help you with, young man?" the fisherman asked, before spiraling into a massive coughing fit. Azrael took notice of the man, noticing his pale and sickly appearance. His gaze shifted back down to the ore, noticing a stream of grayish smoke moving from the ore and going on to become a ring of spinning smoke around his head. On his forehead was a tattooed circle symbol that was glowing a dull purple, almost black. The circle itself seemed to be in the shape of the ore, and it had somehow marked the fisherman. Azrael knew a spell when he saw one, but this was unprecedented.
"How much for the rock?" The fisherman looked at what Azrael was pointing at. For a moment, it seemed as if he wanted to say something, but he shrugged and replied: "It's just 30 credits. I fished this from the edge of the Gossamer trench. " That's a fair price, boy." Azrael raised an eyebrow, it was definitely not a fair price. For one, the fisherman had no idea what he was holding, a naturally occurring spell of the death element, in the form of some sort of rock or ore. This was something that had never been discovered before and even if it had, not many covenants would be willing to let lose the fact that they have a death-attributed spell. But more importantly, was the fact that the death element was rare to the point of being impossible to occur in a living person. But it was also the same for the life element, which was just as rare.
For context, all humans are born with some innate affinity to the elements. Some affinities are nuanced and very situational. Like you can have the ice element, but it could be awakened as something like a sculpture. These extra caveats to the elements are called Aspects. You can see the appeal of this individual as an artist, and if they choose to focus on that perhaps, but every Path-walker with a Grimoire wants to aim for more than just being an ice sculptor. But regarding the elements, all humans are born with an innate affinity to the elements. It could be any of the Elemental, Conceptual or Null elements. But one thing no one has, yet everyone has, is the Life and Death element.
Life affinity is only ever seen and recorded to be in a human body once and only once in their lives. The day they're born. And death affinity is only seen and recorded to be in the human body only once…. The day they die. But Azrael was a special case after all. Perfection they called him. The first son of death. Azrael shook his head, burying the thoughts of the past as he paid the fisherman for the ore, purchasing a simple cardboard box also from the fisherman, before dumping the ore inside. It didn't do much to mask the death affinity mana being released, but that was also not that much of a problem. You can't detect life and death Mana without special implements to help you or certain identification spells. He left the area and the open market quickly. He now had twice as much of a reason to get back home.
He had no grimoires because, 1: there was not a single death spell out in the market. There were necromancy spells, of course, but outside of raising the dead for limited communication and control, there has never been a true death spell. 2: even if it has been shown he has the death affinity, Azrael's source has never awakened. Usually, the source of an individual awakens once they hit thirteen years of age, but he was twenty years old and, apart from having the death affinity, an unnatural ability to heal from any injury and the rare talent for manipulating ambient Mana, like it was drawn from his own source. He was completely un-awakened, and, as such, incapable of utilizing grimoires that functioned by drawing mana from your source.
Whatever spell was stuck in this ore, Azrael wanted it. Death was his affinity, but he had no way of getting a Grimoire to use with it. And he had no secondary and tertiary affinities to rely on. Not that it would have mattered if he did, though, Azrael was limited in what he could do without his awakening. But this was good, and it was most definitely a step in the right direction, because with this, it's now possible for him to start training and getting stronger. He might have had a peaceful five years, but he knew it was only a matter of time before all that came to an end. Father was still out there, and he knew he could never really be safe until that angel was banished back to the celestial dimension, or dead... personally... Azrael would prefer dead.
It took Azrael almost another hour before he could get back home. He and Thomas lived in a suburban neighborhood, much to Thomas's chagrin and annoyance. The old man loved his peace, but the house had been inherited from his parents, so it had a special place in his heart. The house was also the first on the street, which made it easier to access the road out of the neighborhood. A placement that Azrael really appreciated because, should anything go wrong, it wouldn't be too hard to evacuate the neighborhood. Since it was already quite late in the night, the streetlamps were aglow with their soft fluorescent lights, the air was crisp and the feel of the wind on his skin was.... ominously cool. He shuddered as he rode forwards, but the moment he stopped his motorcycle in front of the walkway to the house, he froze.
"Why is it so cold?" Azrael silently whispered as his eyes took on a hard edge.
The cold was a lot more intense around the house itself. Azrael turned around, there was magic in the air, powerful magic as he could feel the hairs all over his body standing up. But the most important thing he noticed was the fact that the cold felt more intense the closer he was to the house. He paused and moved back, leaving the yard as a whole and stepping back onto the street. The moment he did that, the chill in the air seemed to have reduced to a somewhat dull, cool evening air. He stretched his hand forwards, past the curb and into the yard one more time, and he could tell and feel the extreme change in temperatures.
"There was a barrier here."
The effects of the barrier spell were already fading, as the cold was already leaking out. But still, it was strange. Why the cold? Emilia had already said she would not be making it here tonight. And she was just at the first level of the mortal realm. Her ice magic was not yet powerful enough to completely change an environment. Azrael wondered if for a moment Thomas had started working on one of his side projects again. The old man was always tinkering with one new thing or the other. Azrael shrugged and moved towards the house. At that moment, the wind blew one more time, carrying with it a feeling that Azrael was all together very familiar with... Death.
He sighed, his heart skipping a bit, but only once. A moment of panic and horror that was quickly suffused and buried by the veil that has stood vigilant and kept his emotions imprisoned since he was born. He didn't run or rush, but instead took his time. Going around the house now would be stupid. If there were enemies around, they would have definitely seen him coming. Using the front door was a good enough way to catch them off guard, assuming they were still there. Azrael lacked a lot of training. Much of what he had been taught back in the facilities had been foisted aside for a quiet life. Nevertheless, he could utilize his natural gifts to sense enemies. But in this scenario, it was much to the annoyance of the logical part of his mind that he rushed forwards, spurred by a few moments of panic and fear, before his rippling veil snapped taut, securely locking all emotions down as Darius opened the main door of the house and went into the foyer.
The wind was stronger here. Opening the door had been easier said than done as it felt heavier than normal, and the cold that spread up his palm the moment he twisted the doorknob still lingered in his hand. His breath came out in a fog, as mist covered a few inches of the floor. Azrael breathed out, releasing a billow of cold air that seemed to clear the path in front of him. Straight ahead was the living room. The hallway leading to it had jagged spikes of ice stabbing out. It was like a cave with natural crystal formations, but in this case ice. It was almost as if the ice had stabbed out of the wall, like the jaws of a monster attempting to clamp down on prey. Darius looked around, noticing burn marks all over the house and quite a few home appliances in shambles. The wind blew one more time, carrying with it the wail of the recently departed. Azrael shuddered, he could feel it, right on his skin. There was lingering resentment in the air, he shuddered one more time, a pit in his stomach that seemed to drag and tug at his heart. The emotion, this feeling of.... fear! It was so strong that his veil was struggling to keep it under control.
Azrael could no longer put it off as he moved past the hallway, ignoring it as the ice tore jagged strips of flesh from his body, ripping his mundane clothes as he passed. His blood bubbled and evaporated the moment it left his body, but Azrael paid no attention to it as he went into the living room and turned to his right. His heart dropped to the bottom of his stomach, and then lurched back and beat so loudly it felt as if it wanted to rip itself out of his chest. The veil rumbled, the strange mental construct stretching and thickening, adapting and growing to the intensity of the emotions Azrael was feeling. He swallowed as he moved closer, taking a seat on the couch that faced the area he was looking at. Right there hanging over their fireplace was the crucified form of Thomas. His blood had frozen solid, turning into spikes that stabbed out of his body while two massive ice spikes already stained red with his blood held him aloft after stabbing through his biceps. At the end, only two words could come out of Azrael's mouth as, for the first time in his life.....his veil failed to keep his emotions in check.
"Dad? No!"