Rune of Immortality

"And what exactly have you been so desperate to talk about?" Jacob asked, his voice laced with dry sarcasm as he leaned back in his chair. "Must be something extremely important, given how persistent you've been."

His thoughts drifted somewhere between ordered and chaotic. On the surface, everything was calm, he was thinking clearly, emotions subdued, his mind free from the usual haze of anger and resentment. The rune Samuel had used was effective, too effective perhaps. Without the usual flood of feeling, he could assess Samuel's words with clarity, with logic, and that, he admitted to himself, wasn't entirely a bad thing.

Still, something in the back of his mind kept whispering at him, nudging him like a dull ache in the chest, a voice that repeated again and again that he was supposed to hate Samuel, that he shouldn't be sitting here, shouldn't be listening, shouldn't care. But that voice was faint now. Distant. Muted by the rune's influence.

Samuel didn't seem bothered. "It is, in fact, quite important," he said after a short pause, his gaze steady. "I wanted to offer you a deal, a kind of contract between the two of us."

Jacob gave a small, thoughtful hum, not out of surprise but more out of obligation. A prince wanting to make a deal wasn't unexpected. There was only one thing someone like Samuel could want from someone like him.

"You really believe I'm in a position to support you?" Jacob said flatly, lifting a brow. "You must be delusional. I'm not close to anyone important in my family, and I probably never will be. I'm not even sure why you'd meet me of all people."

He already knew what this was about. Samuel likely intended to make a bid for the throne, and this was just another step, one of many, on a path that had to start years before any formal succession would take place.

The process of becoming king in Eterna was long, demanding, and deeply political. A royal with that ambition had to begin preparing early, laying the groundwork over years or even decades.

The first requirement was simple: strength. Regardless of the path they walked, be it sword, spell, or something else, every contender had to prove their power. The kingdom respected strength more than anything else. Each royal child trained relentlessly, and Jacob had seen firsthand how brutal that training could be. Castor, for instance, had gone through sessions that bordered on torture just to stay ahead.

The second requirement was even more complicated. Influence. They would need their own forces, loyal knights, battle-hardened mages, scholars, spies, healers. But more than that, they needed alliances. At least two or three of the five great families had to stand behind them, and that was no easy task.

That, Jacob suspected, was the real reason Samuel had brought him here. He wasn't looking at Jacob as he was now, unimportant, distant from his house, but as someone with potential to rise. Someone who might, someday, hold sway over his family's choices. It was a long bet.

Jacob just couldn't understand what made Samuel so confident. There was no reason to believe Jacob would ever hold that kind of weight. And more importantly, there was no reason to believe he would ever want to use it on Samuel's behalf.

"You're already assuming what the deal's about without letting me explain it," Samuel said with a faint smile as he took a slow sip from the glass in his hand. "That's not the best way to do business."

Jacob scoffed lightly. "Well, there isn't really anything else it could be about," he replied, voice dry. "And speaking of bad business, you did forcefully invite me here and didn't even offer a drink."

Samuel gave him an unreadable look, then quietly poured out a glass and slid it across the table. Jacob took it without ceremony and drank deeply, the bitterness of the liquid grounding him in the moment.

"Anyway, let's not drag this out," Jacob said, placing the glass down with a soft clink. "I don't want to talk to you, and I hope this ends sooner rather than later. To make it clear I can't support you. If you're looking for help, speak to my elder siblings instead."

Samuel didn't seem offended. He simply tapped the armrest of his chair with a measured rhythm and said, "You underestimate yourself, and more importantly, you keep pretending I don't matter. But I said I was here to offer a deal, didn't I?" He leaned forward slightly, his tone still calm. "So here it is: you give me your support. I don't need real influence or authority from you, just your empty endorsement. In return, I'll back you to become patriarch of the Skydrid household."

Jacob blinked. It took him a few seconds to register what he'd just heard. Then, with a bemused shake of his head, he muttered, "You're insane."

Patriarch? He wasn't even a knight, and unlike the others in his family, he hadn't carved out a reputation in battle, in leadership, or in the court. What future did someone like him have? The idea alone was absurd, and yet, Samuel didn't seem to think so. He wasn't laughing; he wore that same confident smile as always.

"I'm not insane," Samuel said smoothly. "And I'm not joking either. It's a simple trade, you lend me your name now, and when I rise, I'll pull you up with me. You'll have the position, the power, and the influence. Once you're at the top of the Skydrid family, you push them to support me."

Jacob stared at him for a moment, then let out a quiet exhale. "You're arrogant," he said, raising the glass to his lips again. "My siblings have already established themselves. They're respected. Meanwhile, I've spent the last few years doing nothing, no training, no appearances, not even attending the basic events. I've done everything wrong. I'm just a washed-up dropout with a bad reputation. I'm hopeless."

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Samuel responded with a shrug and poured himself another drink. "Hopeless? No. From my perspective, you have more potential than all of them combined. A Grade 1 sorcerer under Lazarus, that alone makes you a figure worth watching. No one will care how you behaved before if you start showing progress now. People love a comeback story."

He leaned back, relaxed again, voice calm but unwavering. "And naturally, I'll help with the... less pleasant parts of that climb. I'm not going to pretend I deal in clean methods. What I offer is messy, discreet, and effective. You'll get results."

Jacob looked at him quietly, the taste of the drink still lingering. "You'll have to try harder," he said. "Even if I can't feel it right now, I'm sure my hatred for you outweighs everything you've said."

"All right then," Samuel said, voice cooling slightly as he leaned forward, lacing his fingers together atop the table. "Let me put it more simply, if you don't accept my help, you'll die. Or are you going to pretend you're unaware of how brutal your family really is?"

He chuckled to himself, tone casual but deliberate. "There's a reason your family is the only one without branch members. No cousins, no distant uncles showing up to dinners, no aunts with vague titles. There's a reason you've never met your extended relatives and you know it, whether you want to admit it or not."

Jacob folded his arms across his chest, staying silent. These were things he had deliberately avoided thinking about for years, truths buried under layers of discipline and unspoken rules. Jeremiah had been clear about it: some subjects were not to be discussed. Not with outsiders. Not with each other. And yet, even without emotions clouding his judgment, the weight of that unspoken promise still lingered in his mind.

But Samuel didn't stop.

"You Skydrids act so noble," he continued, his voice quiet but sharp. "But every one of you is descended from monsters, patriarchs who murdered their siblings for power. It's not just some legend; it's historical fact. Your ancestors did it. Your grandfather did it. And your father? He killed three of his own siblings. The last one, his sister, barely escaped to the Holy Kingdom. Ask around. That's why none of you have met her."

Jacob kept his gaze forward. In another moment, another state of mind, he might've snapped back in anger or walked away in disgust. But now, with his emotions stripped away, all he could do was think coldly, clearly about the words and the implications of the traditions he'd been born into.

"Now look at Jeremiah," Samuel continued, tone softening slightly, as if trying to sound reasonable. "He's trying to change things, that much is obvious. Instead of raising you all as rivals, like every patriarch before him, he raised you as a family. He made you value each other. Taught you to protect one another. He's even begun crafting a new way to choose his successor, something that doesn't involve bloodshed."

Samuel glanced at Jacob with mild amusement. "But isn't it funny?" he said. "Your father, who gained his title through that exact brutality, is now trying to undo the system that made him. He used it when it served him, and now he's grown soft. Attached. And attachments make people vulnerable."

He leaned back again, smiling wider now, and his voice dipped lower. "But you're still Skydrids. All of you. Descendants of killers. That blood doesn't vanish. It doesn't dilute with good intentions. And when the time comes, when things fall apart, when fear and ambition take hold, I don't think all of you will be able to resist. Killing your siblings might come more naturally than you think."

"You're wrong," Jacob said simply, his tone steady, not forced. "Whatever our history was, it's been broken. My father's efforts weren't in vain. We've grown close, too close to ever consider turning on each other. The bonds we've built aren't so easily severed."

Samuel tilted his head, watching him, then gave a short, amused chuckle. "Maybe. Maybe not. What matters is the possibility however small that something could still go wrong. And if it does, you'll need to be strong enough to survive. If one of your siblings cracks... if you yourself lose control... I'm saying that whatever happens, you'll want power on your side."

He spread his arms, his voice turning almost theatrical. "And who am I? A Second-Rank mage. My understanding of runes follows an entirely different path from Lazarus's. I can teach you things he can't, subtle, practical things. Techniques that let you neutralize a threat before the battle even begins. I could end someone with a single rune, Jacob. Without them ever knowing what hit them."

He let the words hang there, not smug but confident, a quiet certainty behind every syllable.

Samuel raised his hand, and a soft, pale light began to glow above his palm as a rune took shape, lines forming, curves tightening, symbols rotating slowly in the air like they were alive. His smile widened as he studied Jacob's expression.
"This particular rune," he said with an almost casual air, "can seep into your mind, pull out every single memory you've ever had... and then, when it's done, it'll collapse your consciousness from the inside out, leaving you a breathing corpse without a thought left in your skull."

The rune shifted again, symbols rearranging, geometric edges straightening and folding in on themselves until the formation resembled something far more jagged, raw, and unstable.
"This one's more… straightforward," he continued. "It overstimulates the brain and nerve signals, induces violent hallucinations, unbearable pain, and in most cases forces the victim to tear themselves apart with their own hands. Horrifying, isn't it?"

He moved to change it once more, hands beginning another subtle motion, but Jacob raised a hand, his voice cutting through the space.
"What exactly are you trying to say by showing me all this?"

Samuel paused, then let the forming rune dissipate into nothing with a flick of his wrist.
"I'm saying," he answered, "that I'm one of the best mental rune users in the kingdom. And what I could teach you, if you were willing to learn, would be beyond valuable."

For a moment Jacob considered it, the cold logic brought on by the emotion-suppressing rune allowing him to assess things without bias. Samuel could help him. He was a prince, after all, resourceful, dangerous, well-connected. And his grasp of rune-based magic, particularly the kind tied to the mind, was probably miles beyond what Lazarus, who concentrated on time runes, knew. But the thought only lingered briefly. Jacob knew that even if he accepted the offer now, once this emotion-nullifying rune wore off, he'd be ready to throttle Samuel again. That hatred, it was simply too deeply ingrained to ignore.

With a quiet sigh, Jacob rose from his seat and straightened his clothes.
"You can lift the rune now," he said, tone even but firm. "I'm done with this conversation. I'll think it over and give you an answer later."

He was lying, of course. There would be no answer. He had no interest in speaking to Samuel again, let alone aligning himself with him. The moment this spell wore off, he'd be right back to loathing the man.

Samuel stood too, taking a few steps closer until he was just within Jacob's personal space.
"A shame you couldn't decide on the spot," he said lightly, not sounding particularly surprised. "The rune will wear off by tomorrow, so until then... enjoy the clarity. I'll send you back now. And please, until I know where we stand, try not to do anything reckless. If you end up like Lucas... well, I'd be devastated."

Jacob opened his mouth to reply, he had quite a few things he wanted to say, none of them particularly polite but before a single word left his lips, Samuel snapped his fingers. A rune lit up beneath Jacob's feet, pulsing once with a faint green glow, and in the next moment, his body vanished in a quiet flash of light.