《Base Affection》
Pre-thought: Death
The end, the void, the afterlife, death. Many names and terms for one broad subject and idea. Many philosophersdebate on it, scientists attempt to unravel its mysteries. Mages and sorcerers of countless realms try to bind and control it. Many more, however, go about their days ignorant of death, whether out of fear or arrogance in their superficial worth. Me? I feared death.
I was eighteen when it first hit me, really truly gobsmacked me I was going to die. I didn''t know when I was going to die or how. I remember I was lying in my room after my high school graduation on my phone reading of some mass shooting in a place far away from me. Watching politicians play their politics, and people offering false condolences to look ''proper''. I always had an overactive mind, likely due to my case of high functioning Asperger''s Syndrome, and began imagining I was there in the situation listening to the music. Then hearing fireworks. Somehow I would know ahead of time what was happening, people would begin running and I would suddenly turn around looking heroic as my arm morphed into some sort of railgun and I fired on the assailant. I was a hero.
Then my thoughts turned mid-thought, as they usually do, and instead of knowing what was happening I was face down on the ground watching feet run passed as blood pooled around like a crimson lake vibrating to the stampede of soon to be slaughtered cattle.
I remember I began to cry at this moment in my life shuddering beneath my blankets as my mind continued to play out the scene at 8:13 PM without my consent. I was both enraptured and terrified at the visuals I self-presented. From then on I became acutelyaware of ''death''. I began to realize I was nearing my twenties, soon my body would stop creating new cells to replace old ones. My body would slowly shut down and wither and I would likely die alone in some apartment as I push everyone away even now.
I became pale in my thoughts of taking my final breaths, and what scared me, even more, was the thought of what happens when you die. Does it hurt? Do youknow you''re dying? And the biggest question of all, what about when you finish dying? When your body no longer moves under your direction. When your eyes become devoid of light and flame when no longer your ears hear life''stune.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
In truth, I realize now I wasn''t scared of dying. I was scared of beingdead. After all, I already died. Only three years after these first thoughts take hold did my last breath release. My brain felt like it was on fire as I suffocated from the flames of my home burning around me. My eyes ran with crusted tears as I had attempted to claw out with my bloodied scrapped hands as timber and wall collapsed upon me. I had felt the wooden beam that had penetrated my abdomen. I felt my life slip, no, ripped away from me as I shook in fear knowing the certainty of my end. People say your life flashes before your eyes, what you did. For me, what flashed was what could have been.
I saw myself as a doctor, as a teacher, a hero, a white collar worker. I saw myself married with beautiful children, with a dog, a cat, in a big red house and a nice car. So many possibilities snuffed by the flames of an early death, an early end. Part of me found such an end fitting, almost proper for a do nothing like myself. I hardly studied in school, had trouble focusing, and all around lazy. Though I caused no problems, part of me wondered whether or not I was truly not a problem if that makes any sense. I only did what interested me. Playing games, reading, imagining, sleeping, and eating.
In hindsight, I realize this was a tragedy of wasted opportunity. I was tall, had the body meant for physical activity. I had a quick learning mind and found conversation when in small groups simple and easy to do. I wasn''t attractive nor ugly, yet I tossed it away in the solace of sloth in my bedroom. Even in these thoughts I held, my fear of beyond gripped me tightly as the sole chain keeping me alive. My heart pounded as I tried to save myself as sirens blared in the distance.
By the time anyone who could save me arrived, even the chain of my own fear snapped, unable to keep me bound as I had slipped into the grasp of death and its whims.
Chapter 1: Reincarnation, First Months, and Philosophy
I remember now how it felt when you were dead. It felt like a weird weightlessness. I lost any sense of direction and all my senses save for feeling. I could feel movement on occasion, and I would twitch in a rare moment. For a while, I found it weird I was capable of twitching, but I eventually resigned it as whatever mental capabilities I had retained in this silent afterlife to keep me sane as long as possible.
After what could be felt as an eternity, I remember light flooding my vision. I cried aloud as a sudden gust of cold air touched my skin, as the light penetrated my eyes, as my body burned at every touch. Hazy sights danced across my vision soon to be forgotten as my mind felt dull and sluggish. I thrashed about in my pain and suffering, a part of my mind telling me ''I''ve been sent to hell''. Suddenly something soft and gentle was wrapped around my seemingly frail body. Relief was felt, as my thrashing slowly died down. I kept trying to open my eyes to look upon my surroundings, finding it impossible. I do remember seeing a pair of eyes. Huge and red like a blood moon yet filled with warmth. I was mesmerized by those eyes as I felt the pull of sleep upon me.
For a while I was in a blurry haze, unable to properly recant any occurrences during it. The only thing I could properly remember were those two huge red eyes. I saw them a lot in this time. By the time I could keep my eyes open good and proper and take in my surroundings, I had realized exactly four things. I had been reborn, the person with the red eyes is my new mother, this definitely looks like medieval gothic style architecture, and my mother can use magic.
At first, I thought it was my imagination. It was little things, an item appearing from nowhere. A candle suddenly being lit, a song coming from nowhere lulling me to sleep. Then one night I remember she was jovial as shouting and cheering erupting all through one night outside. People were obviously in some sort of celebration. My mother didn''t go out and join the celebration, and instead stayed in the house by my crib, casting illusions. She created visual stories for me to see, warriors dancing across the ceiling slaying great beasts, a prince charming saving the princess. She created wonders unlike any I''d seen before. I laid in the crib silent as a mouse my eyes following ever scene with rapt attention. I studied every detail.
The night ended as eventually did somany others. Different wonders I could never have imagined in my old life, one that already felt distant like a dreamless sleep provided. My mother carried me everywhere with her. I saw different people and heard many different conversations in a language I couldn''t understand. Some looked like the dwarfs and elves of Tolkien works, others looked like beasts and lizards with the scales and hides, and others looked like a strange hodgepodge of creature and man, though none of their features were telling which ones.
I was displayed like some sort of symbol, paraded around in my mother''s warm arms. She always had a smile on her face when she looked at me even as time passed and I found more control over my facilities. In consequence, however, I found my memories of my old life slowly slipping away. It wasn''t much in retrospect. Faces, names, places I had heard of once or twice. Minor things, that nonetheless felt disconcerting in some way for a short moment before even my worry would slip away without a care. I couldn''t be bothered to miss my old home, my old life.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
I had to keep so many false pretenses up just to seem ''normal''. Had to do certain things just to seem ''correct''. I couldn''t do this or that or the other if society dictated it. Thus I had hidden from the world in my ignorance behind screens and under bedsheets thinking myself unattached to it all. Part of me found this occurrence, being reborn, in my life to be a miracle to change myself, one I often imagined. A chance to do it right, better, proper. It was these thoughts I held in my late teens of such cynicism that I realize was wrong. Could I truly change from my depraved sloth filled ways? Though I was merely a young babe could I really become some sort of hero at my new life''s end? Could I be like so many protagonists of fantasy works who change in a day?
The answer I held to myself was no, it was an illogical notion without sufficient external pressure. Even then though changes wouldn''t be in any way immediate. It would likely take days or weeks for those new views to take proper root in my mentality. Even then would such change be those I dreamed? I never could stand the sight of blood and death as it gave me nausea beyond measure. I was incapable of taking action whether verbal or physical and hated both confrontation and decision-making. Thus I questioned whether it was plausible my mentality could take this one-eighty. As I had nothing but time between eating from my mother''s breast and sleeping in my soft crib I had the ability to properly ponder this. I realized I would likely go into a permanent ''flight'' mentality. Fleeing before any damage could be dealt.It saddened me that would be the likely scenario, but one cannot ever escape their base nature without some sort of ''divine intervention'' of a kind, and mine was that of a caged rat.
It was during these early months of my new life which I spent in a philosophical debate with myselfthat strange things began occurring. Lines of text would suddenly dot my vision for a brief millisecond, unreadable. They would dance around my vision, scattered without uniform or coherence. A letter here, a number there, a sentence in a strange shape. The only thing that was certain was, it was in English. At times I could catch a word or two, never more. There were long stretches between when these would occur at first, just long enough to make myself believe I was losing my sanity over being reborn subconsciously, however, these strange sights were increasing as time passed.
Upon guessing what I assumed was nearly a year of my new life, as I developed enough strength to crawl, these disorganized occurrences began taking more of a shape, like text boxes yet written by a two-year-old. Even then the words didn''t stay long enough for me to read in any way though I did make interesting connections.
Firstly, the words only appeared when someone spoke, and secondly only when it was directed at me or I was already connected to the current conversation. What this meant couldn''t be certain. However, magic was a thing in this mysterious realm, thus could it be some sort of innate talent? I had hardly seen beyond the walls of this home, and even then I hardly had seen any of it as most of my time still was spent sleeping.
Of course, I could ponder on more of this later, as right now I could use an afternoon nap. Thus I closed my tiny eyes and quickly fell into the realm of sloth.
Chapter 2: Perspective
Perspective is a funny thing when it comes to relevancy. Whether its matters of opinion, looking upon an object or other similar possibilities, it''s one with many plausibilities for looking at the same thing when different people are involved voicing their thoughts and ideas. In this case, however, I find myself looking at the perspective of growth in my own body. A year, or what was the equivalent of a year in this realm had passed. Mother seemed happier than per usual, and people came into the home in some sort of ceremony. People spoke in speech-like forms as best I could tell from the length and the attention given by others. Folks talked amongst one another, cheered, and shared some sort of green drink as strange people came to look upon me with alternating expressions.
For some, it was good cheer and faith, complete with smiles and what one could assume was well-wishing even if they understood none of what was spoken. Others came with a certain indifference, though still gave what was assumed as well-wishing. One person, however, caught me off guard in my lucidity of ever my increasing fatigue from all the noise and events. A child, likely only a few years older than myself, approached. My mother kneeled down so the young girl could get a better look at me.
At first, it was fine, just a curious child, until the child''s faced filled with pouty disgust, like one would find in a spoiled brat that''s not the center of attention. The child said only three words as best as I could tell, enough, however, to cause everyone to freeze. Eyes darted to and fro, suffice to say this occurrence was enough for me to snap awake to attention, taking in the newly eerie atmosphere.
I looked at my mother''s, normally clear and kind, red eyes to find them boiling with a silent fury as a woman suddenly grasped the rude child from behind, seemingly pleading in some form, obviously fearful of my mother''s wrath. My mother stood up with me still in her arms and without a word turned around, headed for the staircase, and marched up those stairs in her anger.
She laid me in my crib with a sad smile on her face, and I found myself confused. Why was she sad? Did I possess some sort of deformity? I began to be worried, already I had been taken care of for a year, so I assumed at this point I wasn''t to be abandoned. Yet what could this mean? Did that child speak some sort of grave offense towards me, or maybe a mother was simply embarrassed for her child? It wasn''t clear, and nor would I likely ever ascertain answers.
More time passed and this event fell from memory from all parties for the majority. As time passed I found myself capable of walking short distances, one or two steps only, but it''s progress. Still, I couldn''t understand what was said around me, though through context clues I held guesses. One thing that perturbed me was I had never seen my father. I had seen males in this new life, but none held an intimate look, beyond lust, towards my mother. At first, I didn''t notice mostly due to my mind being so dull and sluggish in development for so long, but as time passed it became self-evident. I realized there was no guiding paternal figure in this new life for my own. I had seen what one could call servants carrying trays the few times I was brought out of the room, and I had seen men talk to my mother with rather respectful, almost subservient actions.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!
It was puzzling, however, I remember learning of the Amazons and the little knowledge I held was that they kidnapped men, mated, and ditched them. Whether or not any of that was true wasn''t possible to find out any longer. Thus I wondered if it was simply a culture thing? As long as this world followed similar biology, Ihad to have a father right? Sleep began its call to me, thus this train of thought became deserted.
Months flew by into what became a year, I was now two years old. My first words came during this year, Ikewamu or mother in this place''s native language. I could now walk around my home as I wished and slowly realized how massive it was. From what I could infer, however, I wasn''t a part of any sort of nobility, my mother was justvery wealthy and had a lot of connections. Did that make me a pseudo-noble? I couldn''t be certain. Of course, I don''t even know if there is nobility in this world, and for all I know, nobility is simply just different from my stories I had read in what feels an eternity ago. Or maybe it''s not? Maybe I am just that ignorant of my surroundings, after all, there is so much I have yet to discover in this land. Part of me believes it''s impossible for me to be a noble as my mother never did anything but stay around me watching my every move. The other half, of course, sees the possibility of such from other people''s actions and reactions towards my mother. Well, I''d come to know as I grow I suppose.
I walked on my stumpy legs haphazardly through the corridors of the home under my mother''s watchful eye, until I reach the lounge, or what I would consider a lounge. Chairs were set in an organized fashion to promote sociality and conversation. Empty trays dotted the room in key parts, reinforcing the idea this lounge was used to greet people. Ornate paintings covered over the decorated walls at certain intervals giving the room a slightly claustrophobic feeling, or it would if I weren''t so small. To me, every room was massive and closets were normal sized. Everything from stairs to tables is akin to insurmountable mountains that fill me with dread to try and crawl up on. I eye the closest chair to me and slowly walk up to it. I grab at the sides and try to pull myself up onto it, reaching with my legs and pulling upwards from the waist, wiggling as I go. As I attempt to get onto the chair, I almost can swear I heard a quick bit of laughter somewhere behind me before two huge hands grab me and pick me up.
My mother sits down and places me on her lap with a smile and as she usually does, starts talking. Even now, I barely could understand a tenth of what she says. Certain words I could understand due to it being reinforced by being shown. Words like eat, food, sleep, and other very simple terms had become a part of my new repertoire of this language. I listened to my mother as she spoke, taking in every tone and accent her voice gave as she spoke to at the very least understand the emotion behind it all. Part of me wondered what the story she told was, and part of me found myself clinging to sleep and its creeping embrace, of which I found myself falling into in my mothers'' warm arms.
Chapter 3: Answering With Questions
I wasn''t crazy. When I hit precisely my third birthday the letters and weird disorganized boxes took shape, the result left me with more questions than answers. However, I was right on how it appears, only when I''m being talked to or am already apart of a conversation. However, it also can appear on its own if I am about to approach people and it''s terrifying.
Let me explain. Do you ever wish you could always say the right thing at the right time and never falter? To know what to say even if you shouldn''t know anything about it? The weird tables are bloody dialogue options for me to repeat like an actor. It can guess, no, it knows what I was about to say when I approach people. If I am talked to first three options appear and each holds a symbol next to it. A plus, equal sign, and a minus, or better called positive, neutral, and negative like an affinity system, though sometimes some symbols don''t appear and others do multiple times.
However, there is no way for me to track my affinity with people, and when I approach people first a fourth grayed out option appears, generally of what I was going to say though there is never been a symbol next to it as of yet.
It has been three months as best as I can tell since my third birthday, and I have gotten used to seeing the giant boxes of text in my vision. Since my third birthday, I also started getting taught about the world by mama, and of course language lessons.
My mother sat across from me at the table with various scattered objects about on top, her eyes looking between them deciding which to do next. It has been a matching game of sorts, she points to an object and I try to guess the word.
She picks up on object and points to it, her red eyes looking at me expectantly.
Proving further it''s real, three boxes appeared in my retina.
=
- Iwana Teku
= Dennuo
It seemed I wouldn''t gain any affinity between these three options, though seeing the rare double symbol made me wonder if this was truly all my options? There had to besomething I could say to improve someone''s opinion of myself at any time right? I could think of this later and simply spoke as best I could the third option, though it came out as ''demwo'' due to my lack of developed vocal chords.
My mother smiled and moved onto the next object, and another, and another. Eventually, we reached the last object on the table, a book tobe precise. Once more she simply held the object up for me to answer.
- Iwana Teku
+ Noru
=
A plus sign was next to the correct choice this time, which was the only time one appeared thus far during this session, part of me wondered why and part of me didn''t care enough to bother, thus I simply gave the correct response.
If this was an innate magical talent I held in this new world, it was a bit unfair. If one used it precisely right they could easily go from commoner to noble just by saying the right thing all the time, to the right people of course. I tried to draw similarities between this dialogue system to other things I had seen, of course, the obvious connection was video games. However, there was no other menu I could trigger. After my mother put me to bed, I feigned being asleep and tried a dozen possibilities to see how ''game-like'' this ability was, with no results to show for it.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
The next question was would this ability grow as I grew older? Since this ability wasn''t usable until my third birthday would more features appear as time passed? Were their prerequisites? I frowned as I sat on my bed unsure. I carefully crawled out of my bed and walked to the window, pulling myself onto the small ledge to watch the outside world. This world had no electricity, thus the outside was as dark as inside save for natural light. My eyes drifted from the streets below to the stars and four moons above. It always amazed me to see those moons when I only had one moon in my previous life. Each moon bright and luminous with a different color, red, green, purple, and blue. Mama told me a story recently about the moons, of how each of them long ago were siblings in an orphanage forced to fight on opposite sides of a four-way war when they grew up. They met each other on the battlefield and ended up killing each other against each of their personal wishes. The gods took pity on them and cast their souls into the heavens to be immortalized, though the reason was unclear what exactly they did to earn this privilege. In my own opinion, the story was lackluster, though it showed this world still held common themes and tropes with my old, and it made my reality ever so slightly more comforting.
I continued to watch the scenery for a long time, till I passed out on the window sill. I woke up the following morning with a low groan and took in my surroundings. I plopped off my window sill and tiredly headed for the door. I got on my toes and turned the handle and walked into the usual large hallway. I yawned twice as I headed to and down the staircase to the dining room, where my mother was already eating breakfast delivered by a servant. Even now I found it weird to be served in my own home. It was a type of life people dreamed of in the old world, and yet it was given to me just by being reborn.
I was always a firm believer in karma, cause, and effect to be more specific, and believed in karmic reincarnation. Thus, I knew none of my actions in my old life earned me the right of this kind. If anything I deserved a rehash of my old life. I pulled one of the chairs back and crawled onto it, my eyes were barely over the table as I waited for my meal. My food came, and as I began eating my mother wiped her mouth, clearly thinking about something. She looked over to a door and sighed.
"Come in." She continued to stare at the door as an aged man walked in. Covered from head to toe in robes, wearing wirey glasses, he looked like a textbook wise man, or master mage. Immediately I could make a guess from cliches of my old world this was going to be my private teacher. My mother looked at me with a warm smile as she spoke, motioning to the new arrival.
"Arawn, this is Vendrick DuMont, he is going to be teaching you from now on." No dialogue option appeared interestingly enough, and I quickly realized why.
The elderly man coughed and gave a slight grin "Yes, yes I will be teaching you history and language among countless other subjects for the next decade, and of course most importantly testing you for Magicka training."
My eyes lit up at that last bit, magic training. It was interesting this worlds word for magic was so similar to my old.
"Now finish your food Arawn and go get dressed."
I nodded and wolfed down my food, nearly jumping off the seat, and ran up the stairs without putting my chair back properly.
"Well, that got him excited." My mother elicited a chuckle from my reaction.
"Hm, hm it usually does I find, the wonders of Magicka and mana always have a pull with children."
"Will you be testing his Magicka potential today?"
"If you wish mistress, though even if I test him today I''ll be doing it again on his fifth day of birth."
My mother waved her hand dismissively. "Of course, of course. I''ll leave my son in your capable hands grand magister, I hope you''ll surpass my expectations."
The old man bowed, showing his status in comparison "Of course my mistress, I''ll make sure your child is well taught,on my name."
"I''ll hold you to that Vendrick." She sipped her drink as her eyes shown an eerie harsh and ever so cold light towards Vendrick, ever so opposite to the warm, kind gaze she showed to her only child.
Chapter 4: Things Betwixt
The sun beat down through the windows into the room that smelt of aged parchment and smoke. Books dotted the floor in messy hills and towers. Half-finished papers dotted the walls with notes and research. An old man sat across a table from a young boy. The old man''s robes came to the floor in ruffled waves as they sprawled about his feet and chair. Books lay open strewn on the table in a messy fashion as the boy read the contents. The boy''s eyes held onto the page, trying to understand what he was reading. Silent was rooms atmosphere until an exasperated sigh came from the boy.
"Master Vendrick, I don''t understand what this means! It says Magicka forms from the ''will of the world''. What is that?!"
The old man looked up from his pipe, a slight, albeit hidden, grin on his face as he monologues.
That is where you find yourself caught? Not in the entirety of the exclusion principle nor the Porelium phenomenon? Mhm, you are your mother''s child.
He put down his pipe and walked over the boy. "Arawn what are you and I?"
Arawn was hesitant in his own response to such a basic but tricky question "Er, humans?"
"Yes, but we are something else, more base."
"Animals?"
"Animals? What in the nine signs are you talking about lad?" Vendrick erupted into laughter "No Arawn, we are alive!"
Arawn''s brows furrowed as he took the words inside of his mind. Part of him wishing this room didn''t somehow prevent his innate ability. Vendrick returned to his chair and his pipe watching Arawn.
"Master."
"Yes, Arawn?"
"Does the world have a mana core?"
Vendrick stiffened for a moment before responding "What brings you to that thought?"
"Well..." Arawn gathered his thought for a moment. "Last week you told me every living thing has a mana, and since you say the ''will of the world'' is alive, shouldn''t it have one too?"
A wide smile broke out beneath the long white beard of Vendrick showing rows of poorly cared for teeth. "Well, you both right and wrong lad. The world doesn''t have a mana core because it is the mana core."
"I-I don''t understand."
"Well, let me explain then, hm?" Vendrick rose from his chair and approached one of the many piles of books lying around the room. Vendrick then began digging into one and pulled out a tome. He then walked over to Arawn, and lay the book in front of him, taking the one he was reading already away. "Read this one for now before we continue on."
Arawn studied the cover of the tome. ''The Voice of Ages'' was the name in aged gold embellishment. "I thought you said you were going to explain master?"
"I will, once you have read to page 422, paragraph three."
Arawn groaned. "More reading..."
Vendrick chuckled "You should know there always will be." He lit fresh mix in his pipe, puffing it as he cracked open a book himself.
The day''s studies ended like that. While Arawn wouldn''t admit it, his daily studies were the best part of his. As such he developed a craving for knowledge he had never before felt in his past. He walked outside of his masters home on his mother''s estate taking in the fresh air that greeted him. He made his direction to the main building. Arawn passed through the gardens and by servants as they catered to his mother''s gardens. He opened the door and stepped in. The hustle and bustle of the servants evident as they carried trays and decorations. After all, it was his eighth day of birth.
Eight years huh...
He tossed about the memories in his new life he had made. The faces he had seen, the people and compared as best he could to his old life. Arawn did this as he walked through the almost endless feeling halls and corridors to his room.
He turned the handle and entered the dark room. Shades covered the windows to let minimal light in as he walked to the chair given to him on his sixth day of birth. The room was large and spacious. Books lined shelves and he even had a writing desk in a corner for when he grew older, as of now he was too short to use it. Arawn''s gaze turned towards an orb sitting at the desk, black as night. He approached the orb, called a tuning stone. He picked it up and it glowed a faint white, representing his magical potential. He frowned as the glow hadn''t increased at all. He was first tested at age two, most children with magical abilities don''t show until age five. Yet, he had grown now beyond age five and his ability hadn''t grown further. It wasn''t that he had poor talent, it was at best average.
Average...
He remembered the look on his mother''s face when Master Vendrick informed her of the result''s. He watched and listened through a crack in the door, worried at the time when his eyes froze on her expression. It was a look of pity and disappointment. She never showed that look to himself, as she always smiling when he was before her. Yet Arawn still knew that his mother found his talent lackluster. After all, how couldn''t she with all the power she holds in her fingertips. He set down the swirling orb on the desk, watching as the faint blue light died out. That was the only thing interesting about his magicka talent.
When a person held a tuning stone the light is always white. Anyone can learn any magicka, so long as they are able to perform its mana rite, or its ''spell''. Magicka splits into categories of specialization from here. Among those were the main ones such as Elvit, Muro, and Gudan.
Elvit was the power of nature and was the most attack-oriented of the three main groups. Muro altered the perception world itself with alchemy and illusions listed as a part of it. Gudan was the augmentation of the body and the world with enchanting listed under it.
But, Arawn found himself unable to wield even the most basic forms of magic due to the blue light of his mana core. It frustrated him, he had mana but he couldn''t use it! Part of him felt fear. What might happen if he disappointed his mother again? After all, even if she had always been so doting on him, would it continue as he aged? Part of Arawn wished his innate ability helped him plan things out. Arawn was never good at considering possibilities in times like this.
Arawn sighed as a knock came to the door, an older woman in a uniform stepped in, wrinkles creased her features. Arawn felt as old eyes shown a dying spark of life, though still, they shined with kind gentleness fell upon him. He felt them even as his front faced away. "Young master, the mistress calls for you in her room."
Arawn nodded and turned his gaze from the stone to the woman.
= "Alright, Gres, I''ll go see mother."
Arawn always found it silly his talent showed up in the most basic of conversation. Yet, then again, it had helped him countless times too. The number of times he had been able to say the right thing at the right time was insane. Even at his young age, he had been building connections to people through their children. It helped that the parents wanted to get close to his mother themselves. Even now he didn''t quite understand his mother''s position. Whenever he asked it was always ''wait till you''re older''. Even the talent he possessed couldn''t wrestle anything out of them. This irritated Arawn. Hidden tension would immediately enter the air upon bringing up the subject. Like some sort of physical manifestation of fear.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.
Arawn walked out of his room. The maid, Gres, following shortly behind as he walked the length of the hallway to his mother''s room. His gaze traced along the countless paintings and artworks as his eyes fell on the dark oaken door at the end. Arawn knocked upon the wood thrice as his mother called him to enter.
Entering the room, one wouldn''t notice anything out of the ordinary. Though the expression too ordinary would fit better. Almost completely opposite of the rest of the home. This room alone felt as if it belonged inside of cottage on some distant hill. Here too, books lined shelves much like his own did. Except here there were magicka tomes. All tomes were bound by various spells and barriers to prevent them from theft. His mother sat at her desk in the center of the room.
"Mistress Idil, I have brought your son as requested." Gres bowed once she finished speaking. Idil continued writing without speaking. Idil waved her free hand in dismissal of the maid, who bowed once more before turning. The only sound being Gres shutting the door behind her as she departed.
Silence came over the room''s atmosphere save the scratching of the quill on parchment. Evermore did Arawn want to say something, but when all your options were these.
- "You called me mother?"
= Say nothing
- "I''ve come as you asked mother."
Arawn realized in this moment you weren''t supposed to speak till spoken too. Minutes ticked by, and neither did Arawn''s choices change or did his mother speak. The tension grew heavier as he began taking in the details he never noticed before. Scratches on the table, tiny scars on her face were among the discoveries. Arawn grew worried what he did, unsure of what trouble he had caused.
"Arawn." His mother spoke and he flinched. "Do you know why I called you?"
Arawn''s mind was still playing catch-up, so it took a moment to process the question.
= "I did something bad?"
In truth, if Arawn didn''t have this talent, he would have likely stuttered a no in response.
Idil chuckled "I''m surprised, it is your eighth day of birth after all."
Ah... In truth, Arawn had already forgotten what today was due to the tension. Even though not even hours ago he watched servants move passed him. Preparing the night''s festivities.
"So you had forgotten, hm? Well, it is good to invest in one''s studies, though not to the degree of forgetting one''s surroundings." Tension melted out of the room as if it was never there. "That isn''t why I called you here through my child." Idil rose from her chair and walked to a shelf. "Come Arawn, let me give you your gift early." She reached towards a dusty bookshelf and pulled out a tome, only to put it back after flipping it upside down.
A loud chunk rang out from behind the wall, as the shelf sank into it. Arawn watched with rapt attention as the shelf slunk to the side. Revealing a torch lit passage beyond. Idil held out her hand, and Arawn took it.
They descended side by side, step by step down the stone stairs at a slow, pace. Dust and cobwebs covered the walls, as the scent of mildew assaulted his nostrils. Arawn wanted to cringe. Yet he couldn''t as any action risked affection. Worse was he didn''t know how much either.
The stairs ended in a circular, cylinder-like room. In the center sat the sole furniture, a table with a tuning stone on-top. Arawn opened his mouth only to speak empty air with the warning of affection loss by his talent. Idil let go of his around and walked to the table, picking up the stone.
"Arawn, come."
Arawn''s legs walked without his own will to his mother, his eyes on the stone. It was now he realized what was before him couldn''t be a tuning stone. Arawn studied the orb as a black mass swirled within the dark crystal whispering sweet lust in his eyes.
"My child, it is the eighth day of birth. Thus the day in our family upon which you, my eldest and only child, receive your inheritance as is due." Arawn swallowed hard as anxiety-filled him like a basin the more he watched the mass move.
"It is time you come to know your history, your legacy, your right. Touch the stone Arawn."
Arawn moved his right arm as if in a trance. His fingers shook above the black orb, his heartbeat in his ear at a running pace. His breath quickened as his fingers grazed the stone. Arawn''s body spasmed as he touched the stone, his eyes glowed white and he began to scream.
Letters and number danced across his vision throwing his mind into disarray. They organized into feelings, emotions, thoughts, power. The numbers and letters became people destroying cities. Into people saving lives, ruling men, and beast, and ruling even the undead. He saw countless men and women, his ancestors, pass through his vision till he saw his mother, then himself. Arawn''s body froze in place as he saw himself come undone before his own eyes. Layers stripped off this mental image. Skin, flesh, bone, all taken away till all that remained were two dots. He understood what they were, his soul and mana core. They rotated around a fixed point, and something was there. His subconscious almost screamed that was the case, but Arawn couldn''t see what.
Yet he wanted it, he needed it. A craving for the unseen crept from within, and he reached for it. His vision turned black and he lost consciousness.
Idil''s face twisted into a disturbed grin, her face like that of a beast having found fresh prey. Her eyes took in every feature of her collapsed child and she began panting as if a dog in heat. She said not a word, but picked up her child and laid him bare upon the table, the orb on his chest. She waltzed back up the stairs and triggered the hidden door to move back. The sadistic smile upon her features gone like a dream.
For you, my child shall possess everything I have and am...
A wet spot appeared in her lower section beneath her multi-layered dress, hidden. She licked her lips as she opened the door. Night had long fallen as she approached the hall, already many guests had arrived for child''s day of birth.
As such worms should.
She smiled at all who looked her way, the mask of the kindly mother back onto her features. She walked up the impromptu stage and waved her hands to become the focus of the hall. Of course, not that such a hard thing for her of people to do though.
"Apologizes, but may I hold your attention for a moment." Silence fell into the hall as if no one was there at all.
"Thank you from the bottom of my heart for coming for my child''s eighth day of birth. It is unfortunate for me to say but Arawn has taken ill so cannot join his own celebration."
With perfect movements did this she-devil in disguise bow as if a princess of the oldest blood. "Yet, I doubt my son would want to cause anyone such trouble after you all took the time to gather for him. Thus will have the festivities still! Enjoy yourselves on the food and the activities." She spread her hands wide as the bards took up a tune. She stepped off the stage to immerse herself in the crowd to perform the pleasantries she so did hate. Idil walked among the guests with smiles and sweet words. Ever so fitting the convincing act she had created and acted for fifteen years now. After the hours grew into the late hour, the guests dispersed from her home. The guests left the gifts they had brought in another room, and Idil smiled and waved them off. Only when the last guest left and her door shut did the smile melt off her face like wax leaving a cold air about her. The head butler Serrant stood by her. Being the only member of the household privileged with the secrets of the family. Then again when you had served a family as long as he had loyalty wasn''t a question.
"Mistress Idil, how has the young masters awakening gone?"
"Better than expected, beyond in fact. If I understand things it may be the closest we''ve gotten." Idil walked up the ornate staircase with Serrant close behind.
"Of course, such an outcome is understandable since you are at the helm mistress."
Idil cracked a cool smile, loving whenever she heard compliments. Her perfection was clear was it not. "Mm, so it is. Now we wait to see what the outcome of the awakening will be."
"I await the new lords commands with vigor." Serrant bowed as Idil entered her room.
Serrant didn''t budge until the door clicked shut. He turned back down the staircase and walked towards a wall, and melted into it. On the other side was a bedroom, Serrant''s own. He walked to a shelf a plucked an aged tome from it and sat in a chair before a crackling blue fire reading.
Will his wish finally come true? Serrant''s mind turned to memories of the past, a time where he held a different name and title. How joyous it would be,
Oh young master Arawn, grow up soon so I may be of use to you too.
Behind Serrant on the wall sat his shadow as he read. If one paid attention they would realize it was not a shadow that should belong to a man, but to a beast.
Arawn''s eyes flickered as his consciousness returned. He groaned as he felt the weight of the orb on his chest. He looked around the dark room as the memories of what had happened surfaced. He shot up into a sitting position causing the orb to roll off his naked body towards the floor. Instead, it was caught by someone before it reached.
"Good morning Arawn." His mother greeted him as she always had, no trace of anything out of the ordinary. He calmed down as seconds passed, his body shivering as he came to realize something.
It''s cold in here. Idil smiled and handed clothing to him, a robe to be exact. Arawn hopped off the table and felt the soft silk and tuft robe and put it on himself. Almost the moment the robe touched his skin he felt cold wash away. Part of him began to wonder why he felt fear and confusion towards his mother. A warm feeling crept up in his stomach washing it away.
"Come with me Arawn."
"Uh huh..." Arawn''s eyes gained a hazy hue as he followed behind his mother through the sole door in the room.
Not a chapter Just some info
Just for your info I made a rough affection system info, just the basics with different categories and a small description of said categories (Isn''t finished 100% still have a couple things to add for mental states)
Affection system
+ means an increase
= means no change
- means a decrease
?% is the amount of change (unless there is a = next to the option in which case no ?% is shown)
anything above 50.1% means positive affection
Anything below 49.9% is negative affection
Scale:
100%: Slave devotion (if you reach this point affection can¡¯t be lost except by something akin to divine intervention. If you ask them to do anything they would without hesitation no matter the request)
95-99.9%: Absolute loyalty (will kill themselves if asked)
85-94.9%: Very loyal (Fully trusts you, will protect you as best they can)
70-84.9%: Loyal (Fully trusts you but may not always put their life on the line for you)
65-69.8%: Trusting (doesn¡¯t 100% trusts you but won¡¯t question your every move. This is the starting level of ¡°friendship¡± )
55.1-64.9%: (Positive) On the line (they don¡¯t hate you and have begun enjoying your company in some way)
45-55%: Neutral (Neither neither friend or enemy)
40-44.9%: (Negative) On the line (they don¡¯t like you but they aren¡¯t going to try and start problems with you or kill you on sight, though they definitely have a difference or two with you)
35-39.9%: Distrusting (Doesn¡¯t 100% not trust you but will likely question a lot of your motives you have and may pick a fight on occasion)
30-34.9%: Foe (will likely stand in your path)
15-29.9%: Enemy (They hate you and will definitely try to kill you most of the time
.1-14.9%: Archenemy (You are a thing they live to destroy, your end will bring them pleasure in some way)
0%: Demon (if you reach this point affection is impossible to gain without divine intervention. In their eyes you are literally a living sin, they will do absolutely anything to defeat you by any means, even killing others)
For reference, Sedris, for example, is around 82% affection
There are other factors that will eventually be unlocked for Arawn to see such as statusThe narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
The statuses are:
Love: the person seeks intimacy (so in the case of "Very Loyal"+ they will want to marry Arawn)
Defeatism: One of the best chances to increase a negative affection into a positive. It covers a range of reasons included defeated in battle, lost purpose, etc. Defeatism in certain cases can be considered ''divine intervention'' due to how powerful its ability to change one''s mental state
Betrayal: Opposite of Defeatism, but harder to use. Though similar to Defeatism it cannot be considered a form of ''divine intervention''.
Traitor: This is the ''divine intervention'' version of defeatism for losing affection. If the person is inflicted with the ''traitor'' status from Arawn''s action they immediately plummet to ''distrusting'' at a minimum. It is possible, and only possible with the traitor status, to go from 100% to 0% affection depending on the cause and effect of actions.
Prostrating: They have almost religious belief in you. Status makes it harder, if not impossible to lose affection.
Demonizing: Requirement to reach 0%. It is the reason its almost impossible to get out of zero, similar to how prostrating makes it almost impossible to go under 100.
Inspired: Lesser, far more common version of Prostrating.
Ire: Lesser, far more common version of Demonizing
Fear: Can cause results normally reserved in positive affections with negative who are not beyond Enemy
Terror: Stronger version of fear, affect Archenemies and increases results.
Cowed: Automatic 100%. They live in absolute fear of you, they obey your every command fearful of you. (While people under ''cowed'' status appear as 100%, they are really at 0% as this status can only affect people with negative affection)
Eventually, Arawn will also be able to see people''s mental state.
Mental States:
Happy: Easier to increase affection, harder to lose
Sad: Easier to lose affection, harder to gain
Jubilee: Greater increase multiplier
Depressed: Greater loss multiplier
Warped: Possible to lose affection when one would gain (if the result is opposite what it should, the result is mitigated. For example if one should gain 5% affection to someone with a warped mental state but it triggers automatic loss, they would lose 2% instead)
Deranged: Unpredictable, can lose or gain without even doing anything
Anger: Huge loss multiplier
Impressed: Huge gain multiplier
Teaser:
Shadows danced upon the halls of the palace. Formless whispers long ago spread rumor and guile. Eyes watched and ears listened. Here none had found privacy. Here none had found safety. Blood was once this castle''s currency, its prime product. It had run through its obsidian floors, its sewers, its feasts, and politics. Here stood ruins of a forgotten kingdom. A kingdom that deserved its fall into the darkness.
The patter of steps became the sole sound in this cavern where this kingdom sunk into the abyss. Greenlight followed behind the source of the steps as a cloak kept their form hidden. Bones and ash lay on the broken stone streets and if one looked carefully on the stone walls, they could see scorch marks from the source of this city''s long forgotten demise.
An ill-omened wind rustles the cloak of the figure, stopping them in their tracks before the great walls of the inner palace. Even now one can pick out faint gold flecks in the architecture showing how wealthy this kingdom once was before it fell into ruin. The figure removes the hood of the cloak, and the sourceless flame behind them vanishes as they step into the ancient throne room. Broken statues, pieces of chairs, and mountains of armor with bones hanging out cover the hall, all leading up to a sun-colored throne, that even now retains its golden hue without a speck of the dust of time upon it. Sitting upon the throne was a thread covered skeleton with a golden crown seemingly having fallen from its head, with a giant spear, one might think wielded by dragon slayers from the age of the gods, burrowed inside, piercing through even the throne.
Even from this distance, the figure saw a faint glow coming from the crown, for at the crest of this ancient mark was a blue jewel radiating some sort of ancient magicka. The figure approached the sundered throne, and gently picked up the crown, the glow of the jewel cast light upon the figures head, revealing a woman with spiked ears as if they were crafted from a blade''s mold. The woman placed this golden crown upon her azure hair.
Green specters appeared wearing armor with the symbol of this lost kingdom upon their shield. They spoke to the specter of a man sitting upon the throne. He was aged and tired, one glance would tell you his life was nearing its end.