Rune of Immortality

It had been four years since Lucas awakened his Aspect. Time had moved both slowly and quickly in that strange way it always did, and Jacob, now twelve, often found himself glancing backward, trying to piece together the mosaic of moments that had brought them here. Lucas was sixteen now, taller, darker under the eyes, and more consumed than ever. A lot had changed in those years most of all, their obsession.

Jacob walked alone through the estate's quiet corridors, his footsteps echoing softly off marble tiles and cold stone walls. The air felt colder in this part of the house, or maybe it was just his nerves getting to him. His hands hung at his sides, clenched and unclenched without rhythm. He knew where he was going, and part of him wished he could stop, turn around, pretend it didn't matter but his legs kept moving, drawn forward by something heavier than logic.

He reached a small door, made of plain oak and sanded so many times over the years that even the grain had grown faint. There was nothing outwardly special about it. No glowing inscriptions. No strange symbols. But beyond it, behind that simple threshold, lay the beating heart of his life for the past four years his greatest ambition and, truthfully, his greatest burden.

He pushed the door open and sighed under his breath, muttering to himself, "It's not just mine anymore."

The smell hit him first burnt herbs, scorched roots, the acrid scent of smoke that never quite cleared despite the open windows. Then came the visuals: dozens no, hundreds of pages plastered across the walls, ceiling, even parts of the floor, each one etched with delicate runes, scrawled symbols, and half-finished diagrams that hurt the eyes if you stared at them too long.

Some of those runes were borrowed from known systems, copied meticulously for reference or comparison. Others were their own fragments of personal madness new scripts that neither glowed nor sparked, that often failed without explanation, but which represented countless hours of trial and error. Jacob stepped around leaning towers of books, some teetering dangerously, others pressed flat beneath stacks of parchment.

And in the corner, half-hidden by the sprawl, was Lucas.

He sat hunched at a worn desk, his frame swaddled in a loose black robe, ink stains on his fingers, dark bags under his eyes like bruises that never healed. His brown hair stuck out in wild tufts, and he muttered to himself as his quill flew across a page. The sight should've been familiar. It was familiar. But Jacob still found it unsettling.

"Father's agreed to speak with us," Jacob said quietly.

Lucas didn't respond at first. He merely paused, blinked once, then looked up. Slowly, a smile spread across his tired face, and without hesitation, he shoved his book aside and rose from the chair.

"That's good," he said, too fast, too eagerly. "Really good. The materials have been too expensive lately this might be the break we needed."

Jacob offered a thin nod. What had once begun as a scholarly curiosity a quiet interest in understanding Akashic's writings had twisted into something sharper. Obsession might have been too strong a word once, but not anymore. Now, they were in deep, both of them. The only reason Jacob had left the room in the first place was to schedule the meeting. Otherwise, he'd be buried in parchment too.

"I'll bring Akashic's book," Lucas muttered as he paced in a tight circle, already gathering documents. "And our most promising attempts. The regeneration script, the resistance layering"

Jacob cut in, listing with practiced precision, "The foundational theory compilations, the biology textbooks, the rune logbook, and the safety protocols, make sure he sees we're not reckless."

Lucas nodded rapidly and swept the books into a clumsy stack in his arms. Jacob rushed ahead to open the door, and together they made their way down the halls, toward the one place in the estate where they were still just children beneath watchful eyes.

The family was already assembled when they arrived.

At the head of the long rectangular table sat Jeremiah, their father, dressed in his usual deep blue robes, face carved from stone. Beside him, their mother Hera, her expression unreadable as always. On either side were their older siblings Alex, ever-stern and composed; Henry, the third son, arms folded and eyes narrowed; and the twins, Isaac and Isa, their features calm but curious.

Jacob's throat tightened at the sight of them all together, seated in quiet judgment. But Lucas reached back, gave his brother a small pat between the shoulders, and stepped forward.

"We're deeply grateful for your time today," Lucas said with a slight bow. Jacob repeated the phrase and bowed too.

"Begin," Jeremiah said without inflection.

Lucas took a calming breath and raised his hand. A small rune materialized above his palm. With a flick, he tossed it toward the centre of the table. It flared into brilliant light, then dimmed to reveal the unmistakable image of Akashic's Book the ancient manuscript that had started it all.

"Our project," Lucas began, his voice measured but impassioned, "is immortality."

He let the word settle in the room. He expected derision or laughter none came.

"Yes, a forsaken pursuit," he continued, "but through Akashic's writings, we found a foundation. And we've continued his legacy."

He gestured, and more runes shimmered to life beside the first. Images of notes, diagrams, and dissected test subjects began rotating slowly in the air.

"We've developed prototype runes and experimental vessels primarily rats. Our most recent iteration allowed a subject to survive drowning, incineration, and suffocation."

He paused, bowing his head slightly.

"I won't claim this is unprecedented. Others have reached similar milestones. But these results prove one thing we're on the right path."

Lucas stepped back and motioned toward the heavy pile of documents he'd carried. "Feel free to examine the materials. Every step is recorded. Every test. Every failure."

He stepped beside Jacob, and they both waited. The members took their time reading through the documents.

Isaac began to speak, but was cut off by the soft thump of Jeremiah closing a book. His expression had darkened. Slowly, deliberately, he stood and looked straight at them.

"I need you both to disband this project," he said.

Jacob's stomach dropped. Lucas stepped forward, alarmed. "Disband? Father, we're on the brink of something this is the chance to elevate the Skydrid name beyond knightly legacy--"

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Jeremiah didn't raise his voice, but it cut through the air. "Your work is promising. But this field has claimed better minds than yours. Entire schools have perished chasing this dream. I'm not asking. I'm commanding."

He raised his hand. The books on the table levitated, hovered for a moment, then with a sudden SLASH of compressed aura, every page, every chart, every hand-drawn rune split apart mid-air reduced to confetti, irreparable.

"Disband the project," he said again.

Jacob couldn't breathe. His mouth opened in a strangled cry as the fluttering remains of their life's work drifted down like falling ash. Four years gone in a heartbeat.

Lucas reacted violently.

"What the hell did you just do!" he shouted, storming toward the scraps, trying to grab them, piece them together. "Four years! Four years of our lives and you destroy it like it's nothing! Are you mad?!"

The weight of Jeremiah's aura descended like a falling mountain.

Lucas dropped to his knees, his body trembling under the invisible force. Jeremiah's voice was thunderous, even though he barely raised it.

"I permit you to speak freely within reason," he said coldly. "But there are lines. Know. Your. Place."

Each word was a hammer striking Lucas's skull.

The moment the pressure lifted, Lucas stood up shakily and took Jacob's hand. Together, they left the room without another word. Neither of them looked back.

When they returned to their hidden study, it was already in disarray. Servants had begun packing away the remaining books, sorting pages into boxes under Jeremiah's orders.

Lucas stared in disbelief. His jaw clenched, veins rising on his forehead. His grip on Jacob's hand tightened until the boy winced.

"Lucas," Jacob murmured, trying to pull free. "You're hurting me."

Lucas let go and stared hollowly at the half-empty room. Then, suddenly, he grabbed Jacob's arm and pulled him inside, locking the door behind them.

"That bastard," Lucas hissed. "He thinks I don't have backups? I'll install mana-dampening seals. No one will detect a thing. We're not stopping."

"We're continuing?" Jacob asked, voice caught halfway between shock and disbelief as he turned to face Lucas.

Lucas bent forward until their eyes were level, a small, familiar smirk on his face. "Don't you want to finish what we started? Become famous? Become Grand Scholars?"

The words struck something deep inside Jacob, a smouldering ember long buried beneath caution and self-doubt. The phrase Grand Scholar echoed in his mind, pulling up dreams he'd nearly forgotten. He stared at Lucas for several quiet seconds, then gave a slow shake of his head, more in surrender than in denial.

"Alright," Jacob muttered. "Let's finish it."

From that moment on, they resumed their work in secret. Hidden behind a rune-locked door in an unremarkable chamber buried beneath the estate, they erected layers of protection, mana-dampeners along the walls, binding circles etched into the floor, and insulation glyphs no casual passer-by would ever detect. A full year passed beneath their fingertips, filled with silent study, countless corrections, and slow but steady progress, until finally, they were ready to attempt their first real trial on a human subject. Lucas had volunteered.

Jacob stood beside the chalk-dry ritual circle as Lucas stepped forward into its centre, the runes carved into the stone beneath his feet glowing faintly with stored energy. At Lucas's side, a body lay perfectly still, an exact copy of him, down to the last hair and scar.

Jacob swallowed hard, then voiced the fear tightening in his throat. "Isn't this... too risky?"

Lucas turned to him, that same quiet confidence in his eyes. "I believe in you."

And the truth was, most of the runic design wasn't Lucas's. Jacob had always been the theorist the one who could deconstruct and reconstruct the language of the runes with near-obsessive precision. Lucas was more practical, better with structure and power flow, but when it came to understanding how the runes interacted beneath the surface, Jacob had no equal. This particular circle, this unstable, experimental miracle was his creation entirely.

The words hit Jacob harder than he expected. He gave no reply, but a faint smile formed on his lips as he crouched and began cross-checking every line, every glyph, every weave of mana that made up the circle's fragile network. They hadn't made a single rune of immortality, such a thing was still too theoretical, even for them but rather, a complex interlocking of preservation, duplication, and soul-binding glyphs that, in combination, might act like one.

Lucas raised his head and looked at him once more. "You ready to make history?"

Jacob stepped back slowly, then nodded.

Taking a deep breath, Lucas closed his eyes and began channelling mana into the formation, first through the anchor glyphs, then the conduits, then deeper into the heart of the construct. The runes responded immediately, flickering to life one by one, each glow brighter than the last. As the light grew more intense, so did the weight in the air, the mana condensing like a storm cloud.

Jacob's brows furrowed. His heart beat faster.

"Lucas, stop!" he shouted suddenly, voice sharp with fear. "This, this is beyond what we calculated. The mana density's spiking. Something's wrong!"

Lucas nodded instinctively and tried to cut off the flow, but his expression turned pale. "It's not letting me stop," he called back, panic creeping into his voice.

Jacob's breath caught as he watched the energy continue to surge. And then, with terrible clarity, he understood.

"Lucas, get out now!"

Lucas tried to move, but his feet wouldn't budge. The circle was feeding on him, anchoring his presence to the floor while siphoning his mana. He clenched his fists and glanced toward Jacob, then, without a word, he etched a glyph in the air with trembling fingers. A translucent wall of force erupted from the circle, slamming into place between them with a crackling hum.

"No!" Jacob ran to the barrier and pounded his fists against it. "Lucas, drop it! Let me in! I designed the runes, I can find the fault and fix it!"

Lucas shook his head, sweat now running down his brow. "Too dangerous," he said, already turning back to the glowing circle and scanning it frantically. The glyphs around him were flickering violently, pulsing with unstable energy. He had to act fast.

Jacob's voice cracked as he shouted again. "You can't do this alone, Lucas! I'm the one who made the theory it's my fault this is happening, let me fix it!"

Lucas didn't look back, but his voice came clear through the barrier. "It's not your fault. I pushed for this too fast. I didn't listen. Whatever happens next don't blame yourself."

Jacob froze. He stared into the circle with wide eyes as a dense sphere of radiant light began to form beside Lucas, its glow blindingly white, its centre trembling with restrained power.

Lucas turned to look at it and muttered softly, almost curiously, "So that's it... That's the mistake."

The light grew until it encompassed the entire circle, then, just as quickly, it snapped inward, compressing into a ball the size of a fist. Lucas looked back one last time, his expression unreadable. His mouth twitched.

"Damn," he said quietly.

And then it exploded.

The white light burst outward with a soundless roar, slamming into the barrier and cracking it instantly. Jacob stumbled backward, his legs giving way beneath him as he collapsed to the ground in a daze. His eyes stared forward, unblinking. The light, impossibly bright and yet cold, began to creep through the cracks.

With a sound like shattering glass, the barrier broke.

The explosion engulfed him. Jacob flew back, torn from the room by the force of the blast, flung through the air and out into the charred ruins of what had once been their laboratory. Rubble fell around him, and somewhere in the chaos, he felt something foreign worm its way into his chest, then curl upward and nestle inside his skull like a serpent made of light.

But that wasn't what scared him.

A thunderous boom echoed overhead, and then Jeremiah landed hard in front of him, his cloak rippling in the settling dust. His eyes scanned the wreckage quickly then froze.

"Where is Lucas?" Jeremiah shouted, his voice raw with desperation.

Jacob couldn't speak. He tried, but only sobs escaped his lips.

Jeremiah grabbed him by the shoulders, his hands like iron. "Where is he!" he roared.

That was the last thing Jacob remembered. The force of Jeremiah's fury, dense and suffocating broke through the last of Jacob's defences. His vision darkened. He passed out.

Jacob woke up coughing, water dripping from his lips as he leaned over the edge of the bathtub, gasping for air. His heart raced. His lungs burned.

He sat up slowly, wiping his face with a trembling hand, and looked around his bathroom. Quiet. Still. He let out a shaky breath and muttered under his breath, "Another nightmare... and I still have no idea what they are, why can't I ever remember?"

With a resigned sigh, Jacob pulled himself to his feet and changed into clean clothes, the memory of the dream already beginning to slip into the shadows of his mind. He returned to his desk, pulled open a heavy book, and sat down with quiet determination.

"The nightmares don't matter," he whispered. "I'll read until I forget I even had them."

And so, he read. He read until the words wrapped around his mind like a shield, shutting out the echoes of light and screams, and burying the truth that still clawed at the edge of his memory.