Chapter 23

The Order of the Aegis is a global entity, if not in the public eye. They have Outposts across Anogwin with twenty-four academies across the globe training the next generation of members and agents. The entire organization is operated from its headquarters in the nation of Netarrum.

Day 155 Honarday

Slowly, I rose from the depths of the black void of unconsciousness. First, I became aware of my body and how heavy it felt. Then I noticed just how damned tired I was. Then came the comfort of warmth and plushness beneath my back. I slowly opened my heavy-lidded eyes when I heard low talking. I was in the medical center’s infirmary. I knew from experience that the beds here were a sad excuse for what they were, but at that moment, my mattress was as good as a Griffin feather-down the bed. At least the blankets were soft. Even with the insulation of the blankets, I still felt a bone-deep chill that never reached my skin. 

I looked around the private room. The lights were dim. As always, the walls were sterile white with a gleam like plastic or metal and a mint green strip running the perimeter of the room. My bed was pressed up against the center of the back wall opposite the automated sliding door. To my right, at the opposite end of the room, was an alcove with a holo archive display displaying what I guessed were my vital signs. Along the same wall, but closer to me, was a pair of chairs that looked of only mildly tolerable comfort. To my immediate right was an IV bag full of blood attached to a tube leading into my right forearm. The bed I lay atop was on a mechanical, self-adjusting frame. 

It was then that I noticed that the voices outside my room were getting heated.

“I just don’t think he’s ready.” Came the deep basso that could only have been Mystagogue Thrasher.

“Whether or not he’s ready doesn’t matter. You saw footage of that fight. The power he displayed without a focus is unheard of for someone his age. He needs more advanced training, and given his scores thus far, I feel he qualifies for becoming a Dark Hunter.” This was another voice I recognized. Thallos. He sounded even more agitated than Thrasher. 

“I agree that his display was impressive, but we have no idea how he’ll respond to such a strenuous lifestyle.”

“Impressive?! Are you kidding? According to his medical readings, he shouldn’t be able to access his Mystwell at all. And yet he just unleashed enough raw, unharnessed force to scar two students beyond healing, and that was from a puncture through his hand that lit half the field he was on. I went down there and saw the aftermath. It looked like a war zone right out of the Crastigane Incursion. Blood and scorch marks everywhere. The only thing missing were the bodies and dismembered limbs, and that’s because we got lucky. If we don’t train him to get a handle on this power of his, he will pose a serious threat to his class, himself, and maybe even the academy as a whole. We’ll have to condition him to the strain and stress of the regiment, ready or not.”

“I don’t think it’s safe, Thallos. You killed your last two disciples. Either you’ll go easy on him because he’s family, and he will be under-prepared, or you’ll push him to madness or death.”

“Tommies, I admit, was not a good candidate for the sect, and I regret pushing him to those extremes. But Sherra displayed all the talents needed, and she was dedicated. No one could have predicted she would go so far that we had to put her down.”

“How do we know that won’t happen to Iver? Could you handle your nephew going unstable and killing his only friends? For that matter, would you even be able to handle putting him down?”

“Come now, Thrasher. I can feel it in my bones. This boy is different. Different like nothing we’ve ever seen. I will only push him hard enough to teach him the needed skills. I’ll even allow him free time with friends and regular full nights of sleep.”

I wasn’t sure that I liked what they were talking about. What training? Which sect? What was a Dark Hunter? And what in Pandemonium did Thallos do to his last students? I had so many questions, and I needed answers. But I figured that I wasn’t meant to hear that talk. I wanted answers, but what was the better way to get honest ones? Did I let them know I was awake and ask or let them explain? Or should I play a corpse and keep listening and piece everything together myself? When I pulled myself up to a sitting position, I got my answer, regardless of which method was desired. As I pulled myself up to press my back against the headboard, the lights in the room brightened so sharply that it made my eyes burn. I heard a distant buzzer go off in time with the lights, and I knew they would realize I was awake.

“He’s up.” Came Thrasher’s resolute voice. “The choice falls to you, ma’am. How should we proceed?”

A calm female voice answered. “We will let him choose his own future, but regardless of which path he takes, we will have to give him control training.”

The door slid open to reveal Trainee Healer Tessa leading in the group of instructors headed by the Mysteriarch herself. The Gnome girl pulled up a stool and began checking my contusion with diligence. She flashed a penlight in my eyes and drew it left and right, asking me to follow the light. “Are you feeling dizzy?”

“No.” I answered.

“Nauseous?”

“Nope.”

“Overly hot or cold?”

“I’m kinda cold, but it’s in a weird way.” To affirm my statement, I rubbed my hands up and down my upper arms in an attempt to warm the muscles.

“Your skin is warm, but your guts and bones seem to have a chill?” She asked as she pulled my mouth open to shine the light into the back of my throat.

“Yeah.” I answered as best I could while she pulled my tongue out and pressed her finger against it.

“That’s normal. It should go away in a day or two. We’ll have to keep you here till the IV bag is empty. I’ll test you again then and may put you on another, so expect to stay here for at least a day.” She hopped down off the stool and dragged it over to the IV bag to check it. “You’re lucky, you know. Since we can’t tell what breed of Darkling you are, we had to test your blood compatibility with each type we had in stock. We only had three Fiend-bred blood types and two Devil-bred blood types. Your body seems to be able to accept all the of the blood types we tried.” She hopped off the stool yet again, moved it to the alcove, and began taking notes in the holo display. “Our best guess is that your blood type is GZ+, but both breeds have this blood type, and it’s a universal receiver. It still doesn’t tell us what breed you are. But in the meantime, until your release, these instructors need to speak with you.”

The Mysteriarch pulled one of the chairs against the wall closer to my bed and took a seat.

“How are you feeling?”

I gave a shrug. “Physically, I’m a bit cold. Emotionally, I’m stressed out. Mentally, I’m all flavors of confused.”

She gave a single deep nod that conveyed deep wisdom. “All to be expected. We have some answers, but we also have some questions for you. To begin, how familiar are you with the laws of myst and the elemental mechanics?”

“Most of what I know is from class. I may be a little ahead of course, but everything I’ve been studying is from the academy archives. Why?”

“So you know that everything in our reality is made from myst, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am?” My response was half answer, half question as I wondered where this was going.

The Elven headmaster leaned forward in her seat, propping her elbows against her knees. “Are you familiar with the term Myst-Blooded?”

“I mean, I know that blood is formed from Water, Earth, and Life Myst.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

“Then no, ma’am.”

“It’s a complicated topic, so this explanation may be a little confusing. All casters need an item called a focus to cast magic safely beyond a certain low threshold. The focus needed varies based on what classification of caster you are. Wizards use staves, Sorcerers use rune bracers, and so on. A caster’s classification is based on their elemental affinities and how they channel their myst. Myst-Blooded have two different kinds of affinities. Do you want to guess what is the differences are?”

I numbly shook my head.

“Well, what makes up the Dualities, like The Cycle?”

“The Dualities are made up of opposing forces like Life and Death.” I recited from memory.

“Good.” She said with an encouraging nod that made me feel like I had completed something important. “Now, almost all the Dualities are split up into what two types?”

“Umm,” I stammered as I drew on old class memories. “The Dualities are separated by polarity, two sides of a coin. Like Life and Death.”

“Well done. Now, what are those two types called?”

“Positive and negative alignments?” I asked more than answered.

“Correct. Positive and Negative. A light side and dark side. Now take a wild guess what the two different alignments of Myst-Blooded are.”

“Positive and Negative?” My tone reflected that it was all starting to piece together.

“Correct again. Myst-Blooded are a very rare classification of caster with one of two sides of the affinity list. Positive aligned Myst-Blooded, called Light-Blooded, can use Fate, Synthesis, Life, Lumina, Stasis, and Resonance as well. While Dark-Blooded use Chaos, Ruin, Death, Umbra, Morphic and Distortion.”

“What about the Core Elements? Earth, Fire, and so on.”

“Good question.” She said as she tapped her temple on her scarred side with a talon-like nail. “The Core Elements are each neutral, so they can be used by both Myst-Blooded types. Now, there are two sizeable differences between these types casters and other classifications other than the range of affinities. While a Wizard could use Chaos or Fire magic, they just wouldn’t have nearly as potent spells because of their affinity ratio, But Light-Blooded can’t use any negative polarity elements, and the opposite goes for Dark-Blooded. Now the biggest difference is how we know you,” she gently pressed a black painted talon to the center of my chest, “are a Myst-Blooded. Want to guess what that big difference is?”

I rolled the question around in my head as I chewed on my tongue in deep thought. Then I realized the answer was literally in the classification's name. “My blood.”

“Well done. Myst-Blooded use their blood as a focus, and this makes their spells very potent. But you need to spill your blood to cast spells, and the more blood, the more powerful the spell. I assume you can see both sides of the danger in that.”

I numbly nodded. If I spilled too much blood, I could kill myself from blood loss or kill myself, and goddess knows who else nearby if the spell was powerful enough. I looked at my right hand, a pale white scar raised in the center of my palm and another on the back of my hand. It was a lot to take in at that moment.

On one hand, I was elated to learn that I was a caster. The ratio of spell slingers to mundane in each species varied from species to species. The highest ratio of Mage to mundane in the native species was in Elves, where one in five people was a spell slinger. I didn’t know the likelihood for Darklings, but I was willing to bet that it was pretty rare. Being a caster put me a step above the common folk if I got good enough in wielding myst. But I couldn’t just conjure fireballs at will and throw them about willy-nilly. In my case, casting meant a steeper price than just vells of myst. I’d need to pay in literal blood if I wanted to control the fundamental building blocks of creation. 

I felt the scars of my right hand with the fingers of my left as I started thinking about how I was going to make it quicker and less harmful to cast spells than just stabbing my hand. Then a question came to mind.

“Which one am I?” I asked the room as a whole.

The Mysteriarch looked from me to Thallos, to Tessa. “Well, Iver, we ran tests while you were unconscious and found you to be Dark-Blooded. I’m sure you know just how dangerous that makes you if you’re not trained, so we are going to need to get you into some specialized classes for control and use of your myst.”

“Oh.” was all I could say, disheartened. I was hoping for Light-Blooded. Being able to heal, see far distances, or bless others would have been awesome, but most of all, then could've used Synthesis Myst, meaning I could make my own batteries or, for that matter, be my own battery for my creations. Ruin Myst was technically ten times more powerful than Synthesis, but it only destroy, turning things dust. I wanted to craft and create things. Not bring literal ruin to the world. I could also use Distortion, which was incredibly powerful for brief moments. But only a total schizo would use that power on themself for enhancement or to power an item on their person, let alone something they would use regularly. 

I had just been proverbially handed the keys to a War Machine, but this titan of catastrophe was just as much a hazard to me as a boon (irony intended). These new studies I was about to be thrown into were going to be critical, especially if I wanted to be as effective as possible as an adventurer.

I clenched my scarred hand into a fist, resolute in my will to master this power. I looked Mysteriarch K in her good eye, the crystal blue color of her sclera seeming to fade into the stormy blue-green of her iris. Her good eye gleamed in the room's light. I could read in her face that she saw my determination, and she wordlessly radiated pride for my choice.

“When do I start these classes?”

Thallos stepped forward to catch my attention. “That’s what brings us to our next question. This is the biggest question hanging in the air as of now, and only you can answer it.”

“Alright, shoot.” I gave confirmation that I was ready.

“Think long and hard on this before you answer.” Mystagogue Thrasher warned from his corner of the room. “This is a life-changing choice. If you act in haste, you may come to regret that choice for the rest of your days.”

“With the manifestation of this new aspect of your abilities, in combination with your current scores and class grades, you are technically qualified for a specialized form of training for an elite sect hidden even from most of the rest of the Order.” Thallos explained.

“Alright. What is this hidden sect within the order that is already hidden?” I meant the question as more of a joke to lighten the mood of the room, but no one took it as intended.

“We can’t tell you what the sect is without you agreeing to truly walk that path.” stated the Mysteriarch.

Thallos stepped up to the foot of my bed, his arms folded over his chest. His normally confident smirk of sharp teeth was nowhere to be seen. That scared me more than anything I had heard before. “If you agree to join this sect, it would mean a complete change of daily routine, schedule, and lifestyle. But this offer is only extended to the truly talented, and I think you could be a good fit for the training.”

“But if you agree to this training, we should warn you that if you thought your current training was harsh, then this new regiment would be hellish on a scale the likes of which you would only ever encounter in nightmares.” Thrasher interjected.

My eyes went wide at that statement. Hellish training; this sounded like borderline torture to me. Between that warning and the mention of two dead students when they were arguing, I felt like I had just been offered an all-inclusive trip to the depths of the Hells or Pandemonium. But the academy wasn’t senselessly cruel. There had to be a reason for such a degree of training. What was the payoff at the end of the training?

“What would this training entail?” I feared the answer, but I needed to ask the question.

“You’re familiar with the position of the Mastlok, correct?” Thallos quizzed.

I nodded in answer, remembering the talk I had with Mystagogue Thrasher about my desire to become a Mastlok. Was that what this was? He had tried to turn me away from that path of training. Was the Mastlok training really so harsh?

“Well, this is a similar line of training only to a higher caliber. Only instead of you learning the trade of two or three sects, you’ll learn to master all five sects.”

I rapidly blinked so hard it must have looked like I was having some kind of seizure attack for a moment. “Wait, what?! All five sects? You want me to become a warrior, assassin, spy, craftsman, and a scholar?” I was baffled, totally speechless at the thought. I’m pretty sure the term for my state was gobsmacked, but vocabulary really didn’t matter.

“Not just become those roles, but master them.” Thallos seemed to get a sense of amusement at my astonished reaction.

“How in the hells am I supposed to master all five sect trades in less than a year?”

“Oh, you won’t have to master them by year’s end,” corrected Mysteriarch K. “You will have six more years to do so and with plenty of field experience. You will just have to meet a set of assigned standards under your training with Mystagogue Kiem.”

“What? I’ll be training under my uncle?”

“Well, why not?” Asked Thallos. “I’m already a member of the hidden sect, a master trainer, and I know your skills and talents better than anyone else in the academy. You probably didn’t know this, but I’ve been keeping an active eye on your scores, training, and progress. You’ve got a sharp set of sparking synapses in that skull of yours. You learn quickly when you have the drive. You’re proactive enough to seek out training from an upperclassman every Quenchenday to improve your martial skills, and you’ve got a sense of justice that drives you to stand up for those in danger.”

I couldn’t help but blush and give a shadow of a proud smirk.

Thallos rested both hands on the footboard of my bed and leaned forward. “Now, I’m not going to lie to you, boy; Thrasher wasn’t just trying to scare you off. If you start down this path, there is no going back. This training will test your mettle and will. You are going to hate me from the start to long after you’ve passed the trials. But I know you can pass these trials. I can feel it in my bones.” He flashed me a wild grin that set my soul alight with fervor. I wanted to live up to his expectations. I wanted to make him proud and prove to the world that I could become so much more than what I started as at the academy.

But I couldn’t just jump into this well without checking how deep it was. I knew this was going to be unbelievably hard. But what was the end gain? Would I come out the other side as some insanely skilled super-spy, able to topple empires with little more than wit, guile, and a paperclip?

“I’m not going to lie.” I started. “I am both interested and terrified of this course of action. But what’s the gain? What are the perks, either during training or after I graduate? I’ve seen a whole lot of sticks but almost no carrots. As amazing as it sounds to me, a master of all order trades, I don’t really see that as the only reason to undergo such brutal… guidance? I’m not sure if guidance would be an appropriate term for what I would go through. From what you all have been telling me, it feels like this is less guiding me to becoming something better and more of violently beating a square peg to fit into a round hole.”

“Are you saying that you don’t think you’re not a good fit?” asked the Mysteriarch, a scarred brow raised at my vivid analogy.

“What? No, no. I meant that in more of a manner of reshaping.”

“I think a better analogy for what you would go through is forging.” Thrasher elaborated, “Most other students would be a tool with one or two uses. While you would become a device so versatile that you could be put into almost any situation and be used to pull success from the flames.”

“But to answer your question of what makes this all worth it, there are several reasons and perks.” The Mysteriarch began. “Other than the advantage the training itself will provide, you would also be issued maximum security clearance for any nation you are in, regardless if they with work with or against the order. You will have access to resources from any of the five sects, including some resources that are exclusively for the sixth sect. You would have access to the treasuries of each sect with limited access to the Sightless Eye’s slush fund for bribing officials. Your stipend of personal funds would reflect your skill set, meaning that each of the five sects will provide you with regular paychecks. All travel expenses would be covered, along with expenses that would be considered part of training. And finally, you can choose to live in any nation of your choice and work with the local branch of the order.”

That was a lot to take in. All I could manage to get out was a distant “wow.”

“Wow, is right, kiddo.” Thallos said with a smirk. “To put that all into frame for you, I have four houses, one on each of the livable continents. When I’m not on a mission, which can be for months, I’ve traveled the world for fun and leisure. I’ve also just hunkered down in one of my houses and played holo-games, watched vids, and read books. Oh, and did I mention that my time here at the academy is considered a mission? I’m getting paid some thick clatter to sit around, eat, smoke, and make fun of students.”

The headmaster shot the Wild Elf a look of warning. “Excuse me. You’re doing what now while here?”

“Just encouraging our students through abstract means, ma’am.” Thallos replied, without skipping a beat. His demeanor was somber, and the mask didn’t crack till the Mysteriarch rolled her eyes and turned back to me.

“Now, Iver, I am aware that your uncle here is a fairly recent addition to your life, and he gave you some rudimentary training before you joined the academy. No doubt you have noticed that the man is comical and easygoing while off the clock. But you need to be aware that when he puts on his mentor’s mask and has a job to do, he can be harsh. What you would go through under him is nothing like what he put you through before. He will push you, and if you’re not ready for what he will bring to bear against you, you will likely break. That being said, your test scores in most classes are at or above average, and your point scores are within an expected range, but the fact you have points in four of the five vectors is a feat worth noting. And the performance you gave on the day of your awakening shows that you have the martial skills desired for a Crimson Blade. All of this adds up to mean that you have a chance of being a uniquely good fit for this role should you not break under the pressure. But as stated before, this is your choice, and you will receive no repercussions should you turn the offer down.”

My gaze fell back to the scar that permeated my hand. I pressed the thumb of my left hand against the raised white tissue in the center of my right palm, causing the hue tissue to shift to pink as my fingers curled in.

This was a life-altering choice. I had just been handed an opportunity to possibly become one of the many legends that stepped out of this academy. Could I handle the challenge? Was I strong enough to shatter my own limits? On the other hand, could I really turn this offer aside?

Could I live with myself as just a standard member or agent and not regret that chance to be more? If I did regret the choice to turn down the offer, I would have to live with that pain on the daily. But if I did take the offer and I couldn’t take the pressure, I would regret every living moment till they wiped my memory and threw me from their numbers. They said that there was no going back. Would I be expelled from the academy and the order? How could I live with myself, having been kicked from the chance to be part of something more and earn a living?

I had three possible outcomes. I could be a typical agent, crafting or fighting based on my scores. I’d earn a living and possibly do something I enjoyed. I could break my limits and possibly become an honest to gods' Hero. Or I could break instead of my limits, be excommunicated from the order, and be left to wander the world as a cursed child.

My fists clenched as I came to my decision. I looked up at the Mysteriarch and gave her my answer.