Odyssey of the Guardian Emperor

BA DUMP BA DUMP. His heart thumped in his chest, roaring over the sound of the aether swirling around him. Amber strands of sizzling light swirled into his back like a vortex, only to shoot out of his hands towards the gluttonous spell.

The wind howled under his tyrannical grip on the surrounding aether. As a place with dense aether, the Barren Mountains had enough fuel to keep Alaric just barely away from Aether Depletion. During all this, Alaric couldn't help but feel the weight of the Face Mask on his face.

Still, oblivious to the clap of thunder unleashed by his storm of aether, Alaric didn't see when the closest Eagles surrounding turned white and dropped out of the sky.

The Eagles scattered, giving the boy even more space and descending to catch their comrades. The falling eagles had lost the golden flecks in their feathers and returned to a snow white colour.

Far below, Scarlett's eyes widened as Alaric's aether storm surged, while Lucy clutched her Eagle's feathers, her face pale. LionHeart took a deep breath, but his face remained neutral.

Dara'k, who had survived the aether vortex, spared the boy a confused glance before diving after an eagle he knew.

"What's that child after?" the eagle yelled as it struggled to flap its right wing and control its turbulent flight. The gold flecks in the eagle's right wing were gone, leaving white feathers behind.

"You okay, Jarg'an?" Dara'k came to his friend's rescue. Wind surrounded them, giving Jarg'an enough lift to drift further from the scene of chaotic aether.

"I'm good, Dara'k. It will take more than this to bring us down," Jargan responded with a wince. The gold flecks had started to return slowly, but none of them would try to go closer to the boy after this. "What's with the fledgling, though? He seemed fine just a moment ago."

"He's struggling to focus," Dara'k replied.

"Struggling to focus, MY FOOT! That kind of suction rivals the High Sentinel himself," Jarg'an grumbled.

"You're right about that. Must be the power of the Great Protector," Dar'ak returned. He turned his attention back to Alaric, more interested in seeing what would happen next, "Still, I'm guessing this has something to do with what the High Sentinel said."

He couldn't be further from the truth.

Alaric hovered before the massive nest, blue markings lining his skin whilst wild storms of aether swelled around him in a turbulent mess sustaining the Storm Shield.

'Soren… who's Soren?' Alaric hyperventilated.

Why did the name make his breath stop? Why did hearing it make his blood go cold? The feeling was very similar to hearing your name in the middle of a dream, only to wake up to your friends calling you in the real world, over and over again.

It was the feeling that came after hearing a name called over and over again before realising the name belonged to you. It was the shock that came with realising he had failed to recognise his own name, an instinct that should have been drilled into him a long time ago.

It was the horror of knowing you've heard a name plenty of times and are now just realising it was yours.

Only this feeling in Alaric was multiplied a hundredfold without him knowing why that made sense. A sense of familiarity buried not just deep into his bones but at the very core of his very soul.

He was Soren.

That was an absolute truth, irrefutable and unchanging—carved into the fabric of the world. And yet, he was Alaric, as well.

"Giving up? Never!" the boy gritted his teeth and struggled to keep his focus. He wasn't about to let the High Sentinel distract him. Not even the sudden use of an alien name that called out to his soul would distract him.

Not even the burning curiosity that was Soren's broken promise would pull him away from his mission. The spell claimed aether even faster. 'Damn it! Now, I'm distracted!'

It wasn't the time to be distracted, but what's done was done. The gridlines of the sphere faltered, and Alaric swayed, losing grip on his hovering ability for a second… He hovered from place to place, then pulled himself back up.

'My aether!' he grunted.

Everything felt uncomfortable. His mind was swirling with multiple thoughts. His instincts pushed him to focus on what was before him, and yet his aether darted here and there, refusing to listen to his instructions.

It took him a second to realise what was causing all this instability. In a fit of frustration, he yanked the Face Mask off his face and sent it hurtling into his storage bracelet.

The moment his Face Mask came off, the world took on yet another fundamental change. The wind stirred, the clouds rumbled gently and the aether in the air hummed into submission. Even the chaotic aether swirling around him in a chaotic vortex stabilised, feeding into his back silently and more smoothly.

It was as though the world itself had turned to acknowledge the presence of someone important, then bowed in his presence.

Alaric took a deep breath, feeling the cold air flow into his lungs in a way that was rejuvenating. 'It's like breathing in air after spending so much time underwater.'

With the Face Mask off, Alaric's aether demands decreased drastically, and his thoughts flowed freely. The Eagles went silent all at once. The sparks of rumours came to a standstill and the Barren Mountains turned their attention to a single mage floating high in the air. A majestic white cloak with an inkpot and quill sigil billowed dramatically in the wind.

The spell was still going, but Alaric could feel the truth behind his guardian's words now. Without the Face Mask, it was indeed possible for him to be the indefinite source of the magic for this barrier.

It would cripple him as a mage but it was possible. Such was the difference between the quality of his aether when wearing a Face Mask and when he wasn't. He understood this now… and yet, he wasn't satisfied.

'There has to be another way.' He thought to himself for a moment before groaning loudly, 'Ugh! What's missing here?'

Then, he froze. 'Wait, what's missing…? He said it was an ancient spell.'

Oblivious to the mess his spell-casting was causing, the boy looked back at the spell he was constructing. It was impressive, but there was something fundamentally lacking. The spell itself was lacking in self-sufficiency. It performed its job well but failed to operate without his presence. It failed to operate without the need for his constant aether supply.

Normally, this wouldn't be an issue, but today, Alaric found himself looking at things from a different perspective. Self-sufficient spells weren't unheard of, but resorting to them was something rarely done as they were not only complex but also rarely used.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

One such spell was a Holy Barrier, which ran on aether from an Aether Crystal Bank. Every settlement, town, village or city with a Holy Barrier had a place where aether crystals were stored to fuel the Holy Barrier.

'What's missing… is a source of aether,' he thought to himself.

[ What are you thinking, Alaric? ] Alia asked the boy, intrigued by the thoughts milling through his head.

[ I'm thinking of… I don't know… I want to give the spell a way to sustain itself. Hold on, let me think… I would need the aether in the air to circulate through the spell. That means the spell would need Aether Circuits that pull in Aether, power it before sending it back out… No, they only send out the excess aether. The rest is used to keep the barrier operational. ]

[ Aether Sufficient… Aether-Supplied… No, nurtured… Aether-Nurtured… Which Constellation do I need to invoke? A Constellation powerful with aether. Hmm! ] Alaric mumbled to himself.

The guardian remained silent, listening to the boy thinking. His mind was churning more than she had ever seen it go, pulling ideas out of thin air and formulating words in the Old Tongue to fit the description of what he was trying to achieve.

To the guardian, the boy was piecing together bits and pieces of information at a very high speed, making sure everything went where it was supposed to. It was tedious work she could appreciate.

And yet, to everyone outside the boy's head, he was just floating there. The only reason no one bothered to mock the boy was his lack of a Face Mask. His original appearance stood out too much to be ignored, or mocked, for that matter.

As the boy's thoughts churned, his theories eventually hinted at a single Constellation. It was the only way he could see himself achieving something like this.

Circe, the Constellation of Aether and Magic.

Yes, he was close. So close in fact that he could feel his heart racing. He felt the rush one got when they finally closed in on an answer they'd been pondering for weeks.

Simply knowing the right Constellation to invoke wasn't enough, though. It was close, but not quite there. This wasn't Basic Magic after all.

Not to mention, he'd just thought of perhaps the most ambiguous Constellation of them all. Circe, the Constellation of Aether and Magic, was quite peculiar considering every other spell used Aether and could be referred to as magic.

What use was a constellation of the Magic and Aether in a spell that already used Magic and Aether? The paradox existed, and yet, it made all the sense in the world. To Alaric, at least.

When he opened his mouth next to speak the Old Tongue, his voice thundered, overcome by a force that would see his will done.

In the moment that he spoke, he finally managed to grasp the source of these 'unfamiliar' words. It was the reason his knew to think of the spell from this perspective. It was the reason he knew the Heaven-Crested Eagles were also called the Sentinels of the Stone Gate, and much more.

The source of this knowledge, seemingly embedded into his very essence, was him. Or rather, Soren.

"By the name of the Constellation of Wind: Aero, Patron of the Skies and the name of the Constellation of Aether: Circe, Patron of Magic and Runes. I cast a barrier unyielding to the Storms, Gentle to the Breeze, Life Nourishing, Forever Tranquil and Nurtured by Aether: Gluttonous Storm Shield"

Without meaning to, alien runes began to appear in the grid lines of light before everything vanished right in front of him. There, the nest stood undisturbed.

Alaric let the aether flowing into him go. His work of done. The gentle hum of aether coming from the nest proved it.

The spell was done, and it no longer needed his aether to survive on its own. He was panting and exhausted. He had a lot of questions, but when had he ever been without questions? All he ever had were questions.

On the bright side, he'd gotten one answer.

The names of the creatures he kept coming across. The innate knowledge that spilled out of him when he spoke the Old Tongue. He now had an inkling of where it came from.

All of it had something to do with the name Soren. An identity that was seemingly tied to him, yet he'd not known of it until the High Sentinel mentioned it.

In a way, the golden Eagle had helped him out in the end. The High Sentinel had called out to a part of him with answers and brought them closer to the surface, allowing him to complete the spell.

"It is done," Alaric declared.

Oh, it wasn't just done.

Alaric's whole understanding of magic had evolved because of this spell. He might have been exhausted by the spell, but he now knew how important his will was in controlling that magic.

He'd always known his will shaped the magic of his basic spells, but he'd not known the true extent of that potential. Even now, he reckoned he was still oblivious to its true potential.

He was sure of one thing, though. He'd improved drastically during that one spell. He could now feel the way the world reacted to his whims. The way the clouds stirred or darkened when he was moody or angry.

'Child Loved by the World, huh,' he thought to himself.

[ Good work, Alaric. It's nice that you can see it now. ] Alia's warm voice congratulated him. The guardian was brimming with pride.

"That's not possible," the High Sentinel's deep voice snapped Alaric out of his reverie.

The golden eagle flew down, storms echoing in its wake. Alaric leaned back and glided out of the way. The Great Eagle came down with the power of a tempest wreathed with lightning and sent one powerful tornado after another at the nest, but no matter how hard he tried, it stood untouched by the calamities.

"I think this is my best work if I say so myself," Alaric thought to himself…

The High Sentinel turned to him, "You didn't use the spell I gave you."

"Oh, I did. Your spell was incomplete, so I completed it for you," the boy responded. "On a different note, I want to know why you called me Soren."

The golden white eagle stared at him for a bit, then sighed, "That's a long story. One that I can only tell over a meal. Will you be staying? We would be honoured to have you as a guest."

Alaric hummed in thought. He wasn't sure how he could possibly be treated with hospitality by a community of Eagles, but he wasn't against the idea.

[ Didn't you see how the High Sentinel appeared earlier? ] Alia asked the boy. Alaric briefly remembered the bird materialising out of thin air. [ They must have an alternate dimension here in the Barren Mountains. It would explain the weak domain I've been detecting. ]

"I'd like to first discuss it with my friends before I make a decision," Alaric replied with a short bow.

"Of course! The offer extends to your friends as well for as long as you trust them. Any friend of the Great Protector is a friend of ours," the Eagle spoke with enough respect in his voice to make Alaric get chills.

'Since when is he so nice?'

Alaric thought to himself as he glided back to his friends. The humans, in the wake of the storm raging high above, had been taken back a safe distance and placed on the ground.

As Alaric left, the Eagles flew past him, giving him a wide berth as they convened around the High Sentinel, "That's the Protector, isn't it?" "You didn't say he was that powerful?" "He's too overwhelming without the mask?" "Did the spell work?" "Is your daughter going to marry him?"

Alaric could feel his cheeks burning up from all the comments the Eagles were making. 'How did one magic spell equal marriage? Scratch that! Why does every leader we find somehow have a daughter? Elder Gregory had Crystal. Master Jill has a daughter with the elite guards. The Matriarch has Lucy, and this High Sentinel has one, too.'

Alia chuckled, [ I didn't realise you were into men. ]

[ No, I'm not. Hey, stop twisting my words. Did it even occur to you that the girl isn't human? ] the boy yelled back.

[ Oh, that can be fixed! ]

Before Alaric could get to how that was possible, a voice cut through his thoughts, "Hey, Weird Kid." Alaric turned to see an eagle catching up to him. This was one he recognised, "Hey, you! Since when can you fly?"

"Dara'k! Thank the Constellations! I thought for a fact you were all avoiding me," the boy sighed. Then again, he found it odd for the irritable eagle to be talking to him so casually, "I could always fly. I'm just not used to it."

"You have no wings," the Eagle grumbled.

Alaric looked himself up and down, "Hmm! I thought my hands would," Just then, his hands started to stretch and flatten out before he caught himself and pulled the transformation back to the half-point he was utilising. "It's… It's not a complete transformation."

"Transformation?! Everything about you makes less and less sense the longer I get to know you," Dara'k breathed in disbelief. " Your friends are there waiting for you. Dismiss the Eagles, protecting them. I do hope you'll be staying with us for a while. The High Sentinel has been preparing since we got word from the Tower."

Alaric nodded, "I didn't realise he was so eager."

The Eagle shrugged with his head, a gesture Alaric had never thought of until now, "He had to act tough to see if you were worth his respect."

The boy nodded, "I'm glad I didn't disappoint him then. Thank you, Dara'k. Let me go talk to my friends before jumping to any conclusions."

"Take your time," the Eagle nodded, then turned to join the swarm questioning their leader.

Alaric landed in front of his friends and allowed SwiftWind's transformation to dissipate, returning him to his normal form.

Scarlett was the first to step forward, walking straight up to Alaric until he could practically feel the heat and smell the scent rolling off her body. Curiosity had burned away all her patience so much that she didn't let anyone speak before her.

"Who are you, Alistair?" she asked.

"Straight to the point," Alaric smiled. The girl nodded, then waited.

Part of him was relieved. He'd lived as Alistair so long he couldn't remember introducing himself properly, "For starters, my name's not Alistair. It's Alaric, and I'm just a boy from the Five Hills who was appraised with an S-class guardian."