Imperium

Chapter 16: And Then There Was Nothing

Warning: This chapter contains mention of sexual assault.

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"Before I begin, let me explain a few things..."

"As you could probably guess, the continent of Aramora is very... different, compared to Utopia and Eutria. There, magic exists. There are elves, centaurs, dragons, and at the top of it all, there's the Dev'al Ordon, or the High Order. They exist to control these things, namely, the four primary schools of magic. These being Elemental, Summoning, Life, and Mind. There are more kinds than that, such as Tus'Felnis magic, or 'Renajra'. And of course, Tene-Medeis; Dark Magic."

"In Aramora, if a person discovers that they have any of the main four schools of magic, it is obligatory that they report to the Dev'al Ordon in order to learn how to use their gift. But as you could imagine, people resisted. Wars were even fought over the concept of conforming to the High Order's demands to try and 'control' them. Due to these wars, a village on the Isle of Manatria was burned to the ground by none other than Athemar Du'Keldan, back before he became the Grand Master of the Dev'al Ordon, which was his method of 'changing his ways'."

"When someone is sent to the Order to join them, they become a disciple of their school of magic. After two years of training and practice, they are free to leave and return to their normal lives before their magic was discovered. But, for those the Order considered 'prodigies', they were to be tested to see if they qualified to become either Magisters – professors who specialize in teaching magic – or agents. Agents are basically the Dev'al Ordon's version of the Cogency Elites."

"The Dev'al Ordon was stationed at the Divine Temple, which was at the heart of Ecrin – the capital city of Aramora. And that's where I was born. In a small house, just off the market and down the road from the best tavern in the city. My family wasn't exactly 'wealthy', but we were modest,"

The bustling streets of Ecrin rang to life with each passing crowd, colorful banners wove their ways from rooftop to rooftop of nearly every towering rustic home and shop that lined the cobblestone streets.

And just off from the lively market was a small home made from wood and stone, with a wall of vines creeping their way up, graciously threading through the cracks in the stones and twisting around an open window with wooden shutters, and inside, a child is born. A boy with bright green eyes and black hair that was almost dark grey.

"I had just about everything a kid in Aramora could ask for. I had kind parents who loved me, access to good food and a warm fire. Music and mirth from the tavern down the road. And once I learned to play a lute in my teenage years, I even gained some... 'admirers'. Looking back... I think even I would have beaten me up."

"Well, one night, my parents were away in Whiteridge on business, and I didn't know how to cook yet, so I went to the tavern for dinner..."

As the sky grew dark, fading with a haze of navy blue over the orange hue of the disappearing sun, the lights of the tavern rose to life, along with the music and laughter inside. Walking down the street towards the building was Colin, then at the age of eleven. He approached the tavern, but stopped at the edge of the market when he saw something.

"Before approaching the tavern, I saw some people walk by a kid my age who was sitting outside the building, looking like... You know how sometimes you'd walk into the Watchman and see Tyrell sitting in a corner looking ready to punch the universe in the face? Well, that's what this kid looked like. Dressed in rags and looking like the world was his greatest enemy."

Another little boy, eleven years old and also with bright green eyes, only his weren't full of life like Colin's were. They were full of anger, frustration at constantly being either ignored or pitied. Mottled dark brown, almost red hair. Skin and clothes covered in dirt. A young boy who had lost so much so soon in his life.