The steady hum of the truck's Essence core filled the cabin, punctuated only by the occasional whir of mechanical joints and the rhythmic crunch of the vehicle's massive wheels over the barren Wasteland terrain. Eris sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. He tried to guide the Essence coursing through him, as Vince had instructed, but the energy was slippery and wild, defying his every attempt to control it.
"Stop fighting it," Vince muttered, his tone curt. "You look like you're trying to wrestle a shadow."
Eris opened one eye and glared. "It's not as easy as you make it sound."
"That's because you're doing it wrong." Vince didn't bother looking at him, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "Essence isn't about strength. It's about harmony. If you keep forcing it, you'll only make it worse."
Eris let out a frustrated sigh, slumping back against the wall. "It doesn't feel harmonious. It feels... chaotic. Like it's alive, but it doesn't want to listen to me."
Vince gave a dry chuckle. "Sounds like your Crest is a perfect match for you."
Eris scowled but said nothing, returning to his attempts to control the energy. The warmth that had briefly filled his hands earlier now flickered and waned, refusing to stabilize.
Vince watched him from the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable. The kid was struggling, that much was obvious. Most Awakened had some natural aptitude for channeling their Essence—an instinctive connection to their Crest. But Eris? His efforts were clumsy, disjointed, like a blind man fumbling in the dark.
"Not great," Vince muttered to himself.
"What's not great?" Eris asked, catching the words.
"Your aptitude," Vince said bluntly. "It's weak. Barely there."
Eris flinched, the words cutting deeper than he expected. "I'm trying..."
"Trying isn't enough," Vince said. He tapped the dashboard, bringing up a flickering display of runes and Essence flows. "There's a way to measure how strong someone's connection to their Crest is. It's called resonance. And right now, I'd bet yours is near the bottom."
"Resonance?" Eris asked, leaning forward.
Vince sighed. "Think of it as a frequency—how well your Essence aligns with your Crest. High resonance means strong abilities, better control. Low resonance means... well, you."
Eris frowned, his frustration mounting. "How do you measure it?"
"With a resonance orb," Vince said. "It's a device that uses Spire energy to amplify and read the frequencies of a Crest. Problem is, I don't have one."
"So what do we do?" Eris asked, his voice tinged with desperation.
Vince hesitated, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. "There's a place. Nyxoria."
Eris tilted his head. "Nyxoria?"
"My kingdom," Vince said tersely. "It's where I'm from. And it's where I can get my hands on a resonance orb to figure out if you're worth anything."
Eris sat back, the weight of the revelation sinking in. Nyxoria—the Kingdom of the Moon. He'd heard whispers of it, tales of a land shrouded in perpetual twilight, where the stars themselves were said to guide its people.
"You're from Nyxoria?" Eris asked, the curiosity returning to his voice. "What's it like?"
Vince shot him a warning look. "Not now."
"But—"
"Not. Now." Vince's tone left no room for argument.
Eris leaned back, crossing his arms and muttering under his breath. Vince ignored him, his mind already drifting to the next hurdle: his benefactor.
The thought sent a chill down his spine. The benefactor had financed their ill-fated expedition into the Wastelands, a venture that had ended in disaster. Lyra and Flumen were dead, the bead was missing, and Vince had nothing to show for his efforts except a stray kid with a weak Crest.
"How the hell am I going to explain this?" Vince muttered to himself.
Eris glanced at him. "Explain what?"
"None of your business," Vince snapped.
Eris frowned but said nothing, sensing that Vince's mood had darkened.
The truck rumbled on, its Essence core glowing faintly in the dim light of the Wastelands. For now, silence reigned, broken only by the hum of the engine and the occasional sputter of Eris's Essence attempts.
But as they approached the borderlands of Nyxoria, the tension in the air was palpable. Vince's thoughts were a storm of doubt and dread, while Eris clung to the faint hope that this journey would bring him closer to understanding his newfound powers—and his place in this strange, unforgiving world.
The truck's wheels groaned as it came to a halt on the cracked, barren terrain of the Wastelands. Eris, seated in the back, looked up with a mix of curiosity and apprehension as Vince killed the engine. Outside, the stillness was oppressive, the sky a bruised canvas of swirling greys and reds, and the faint hum of distant Essence currents crackled in the air.
Vince turned to Eris, his expression stony. "Stay here. Don't touch anything. And keep practicing."
Eris frowned. "Where are you going?"
Vince didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stepped out of the truck, shutting the door with a deliberate slam. Turning back, he leaned in through the open window. "This isn't up for debate, kid. Do as I said. If you mess with the truck's systems, you'll fry yourself."
Eris glared but nodded begrudgingly, muttering something under his breath as Vince straightened and began walking away.
The air seemed to grow heavier with each step Vince took, his eyes fixed on the massive shape looming in the distance—a colossal airship hovering just above the ground, its shadow stretching over the desolate land like a dark omen.
The airship was unlike anything built by the Four Kingdoms. Its hull gleamed with an otherworldly sheen, a blend of sleek, dark metal and pulsating Essence-infused crystal. Glyphs and runes danced faintly along its surface, their patterns shifting in ways that defied logic. The ship emitted a low, thrumming sound, as though alive, its energy radiating with a power that sent a shiver through Vince's spine.
As he approached, figures emerged from the haze.
The guards were clad in armor that matched the airship's mystic design—pitch black and seamless, their joints glowing faintly with red sigils that pulsed like a heartbeat. Their helmets were featureless save for smooth, reflective masks that distorted the world around them. Vince caught glimpses of his own reflection as he stopped before them, distorted and broken.
Without a word, one of the guards stepped forward and gestured with a gauntleted hand. Vince nodded curtly and followed, the other guards falling into step behind him, their presence a silent yet palpable threat.
The group ascended a ramp that extended from the airship's underside, the smooth metal warm beneath Vince's boots. As they entered, the air grew cooler, and the faint scent of ozone and burnt Essence filled his nostrils. The corridor was dimly lit, the walls adorned with shifting glyphs that cast eerie, moving shadows.
They walked in silence, the sound of their steps swallowed by the ship's ambient hum. Vince's thoughts churned as they navigated the labyrinthine passages, his unease growing with each turn. He'd met the benefactor before, but every encounter left him more wary than the last. This wasn't a man to disappoint, and Vince's recent failures were a weight he couldn't ignore.
Finally, they stopped before an imposing set of double doors, etched with intricate patterns that seemed to writhe and shimmer as though alive. One of the guards stepped forward and placed a hand on the door, the runes flaring briefly before the doors slid open with a hiss.
The room beyond was vast and shrouded in shadow, illuminated only by a faint, pulsing light from an unseen source. Vince hesitated on the threshold, his jaw tightening as he stepped inside.
The doors closed behind him with a resonant thud, leaving him alone in the dimly lit chamber.
"Vince," a voice purred, smooth and cold as glass.
Vince swallowed hard, his eyes scanning the darkness for the source. He couldn't see them, but he could feel their presence—a heavy, oppressive force that made the air difficult to breathe.
"You've kept me waiting," the voice continued, each word laced with an unspoken threat.
Vince straightened, forcing his voice to remain steady. "I came as quickly as I could."
A low chuckle echoed through the chamber, reverberating in a way that made Vince's skin crawl. "Let's discuss... the matter at hand."
The pulsing light intensified slightly, casting long, flickering shadows across the room, but the figure remained obscured.
And so the meeting started, the identity of the benefactor shrouded in mystery, leaving Vince to face whatever judgment awaited him.