by Marc Mulero
That’s new information. So my ooma and fata’s espers both contain a bit of the first’s vision. What else do they see?
Eres’ eyes were to the floor in thought.
Ren looked pleasantly at him. “Is that all that was wrong? Are you just plagued by curiosity?” He extended a trinket wrapped hand onto the boy’s shoulder. “I was worried about you.”
But why me? Eres thought, but didn’t have the courage to say. Perhaps he wanted Alfonze Ren to be ‘the eye’ watching over him, and was too scared of the possibility that he wasn’t.
“Thank you, Proc-, I mean Alfonze, sir. I’m fine.” He bent down do grab his bag. “And thanks for talking with me.”
“Anytime, my boy.” Ren waved him farewell and watched him closely all the way out of the door.
Eres was lost in thought while making his way throughout the enormous, empty halls of Kor, considering whether he should even go to the rest of his classes for the day. He’d just be dwelling anyway, on why Windel couldn’t keep her mouth shut, how he almost lost his most prized possession, and the renewed awareness of being completely alone. Losing friends was as terrible a feeling as it was great to have them. Fortunately, though, being by himself was something he experienced for the majority of his short life. Save for the presence of his ooma, his books and his chair were most of his company. That’s why he decided to venture to the great lawn on Kor grounds, eyeing the dwarf tree where Windel would usually sit, and deliberately picked another far away from it. Ignoring the heartache that grew with each step that took him further from where they would usually meet, Eres finally plopped down, took out the book Ingora and its spheres by Pr. Esteen Brin, and pulled out his live map for reference. It was time to dive back into the duties his father gave him before disappearing – to know his geography.
Before he began his studies, he took one last look at the vastness of Kor Vinsánce – the stillness of the Academic Wing, the flashing lights, creeping vines, along with the noise of the Practical Wing, and the powerful presence of the Elite Wing at the center. After a deep breath, he opened his book, intending to wait out the rest of the day until his first and potentially only class with Proctor Wudon during off hours.
Eres was lost in study through the suns’ rise and fall, even past free period with commotion running high around him. Everything became white noise. It stayed that way too, until his focus was eventually broken by someone approaching tentatively on all fours.
“I don’t know what caused such a harsh oob, but Windy apologizes for what she did yesterday. Come work it out at the normal spot, Eres.” Mun nudged his arm with his head.
Eres painstakingly pulled his eyes from the text, feeling flustered by the notion that a simple apology would ever cure the potential danger she’d put his family in. “What I said stands, Mun. I want her to forget that I ever existed. It’s safer this way, obviously.”
Mundella grimaced like he’d been slapped. “How could you be so final? We’re all friends?” He posed it as more of a question than a statement.
“Not anymore. I prefer to be by myself now,” he said matter-of-factly.
The disappointment was evident on Mun’s face. “Well, you know where we’ll be if you change your mind.” He began to pad away before looking back one last time. “I hope you cool down soon. We miss the old Eres.”
Confronting some of his problem caused no release, because there was no resolution. It hurt, and he seethed. It took nearly twenty minutes of furiously reading the same line over and over again to get his brain cranking once more, but eventually he got there. And the next time Eres looked up from his book, it was dark. Finally, it was time to head to the class about which he’d been wondering the most.
The Practical Wing was different at night. Candle light danced on his way to the spiral, giving an eerily peaceful vibe that contradicted the daytime fuss. This ambience, though, did nothing for Eres but increase his solemnness, making him feel as though he was in mourning. Fortunately, distraction quickly came as he made it to the floor and onto the long line waiting outside Wudon’s torium. Arching doors that were latched shut began to bellow open, causing some onlookers to gasp. It wasn’t until an older student came sulking out with his head slumped that Eres knew he was in for something unnerving that night.
“Orgal Reed knew the rules, and showed up early to get it over with.” Wudon’s unmistakable voice echoed before his silhouette emerged from the fog filled room. “For everyone else, you will be inspected, one by one, to test your Reach, your connection to Gushda.”
A few newer students rolled their eyes, and Wudon’s keen sense sent his finger pointing briefly to each of them. “All three of you, dismissed.”
The others gasped. Two of the three bit their tongue and stomped out, muttering curses along the way, while the third looked left to right, flabbergasted that Wudon could’ve seen his expression.
The crowd parted for their proctor, who appeared as daunting as ever in the dim light. His sharp eye was brighter than his dull one, and his dark robes made him look like a servant of Death itself.
He bent forward, forcing the student to lean back. “Must I say it again?”
The student gulped, grabbed his bag and turned hastily away to exit.
Wudon corrected to full posture and raised his voice, “Our keeper demands I give the option to spend the night in Kor dormitory for those who decide that the dark is too dangerous to find your way home,” he taunted. “Truth be told, if you’re frightened of the night and choose not to combat that fear, you aren’t built for whichever professional aspirations led you here, with me. But nevertheless, the option is there.”
“Now we begin.” He started his way back into the smoky torium. “Ellisa Bont, with me.”
A tall female student scurried up behind him, and the doors shut seemingly by themselves as she crossed the threshold.
The crowd parted beside Eres unbeknownst to him as he stared ahead.
“Terrifying, isn’t he?” Joodah leaned in to say in a low tone, as though the proctor could still hear them.
Eres nodded. “I would prefer not being in a room with him alone.”
The huge Eplon chuckled and rested a large hand on Eres’ shoulder. “I missed you at free period. No sign of you at your normal spot, and your friends looked like they were on their way to a funeral. I thought we were supposed to meet up, what happened?”
Eres’ face flushed of all its color. “I’m so sorry, Joo. It’s been a terrible day. I was betrayed, searched by PAs… it was awful. I completely forgot.”
Joo laughed awkwardly. “Searched? For what? You wouldn’t bring a weapon into Kor grounds… would you?”
“No, of course not!” He was offended, but quickly realized that any more information could lead him into the same boat he’d just jumped out of with Windel. “It’s… nothing. Anyway, hopefully we have time to catch up now. So, give me some specific questions that tripped you up last time and we’ll work through them and expand on it. Crash course!”
Joo’s eyes went from being soft with concern to wide with excitement. “Yes, hopefully sixth time’s a charm. Okay, so, Harbingers. Wudon asked me last time what they warn people of and how they prepare.”
“Easy,” Eres assured. “They’re Mystics who warn people of impending fortune or doom depending on their ‘aura.’” He couldn’t help but sigh. “They use Reach to perform their tasks. Revered by the Umboro communities and detested by the Swuls. The other Factions are in between. Next!”
They both continued on their studies as the doors swung open to let out the next depressed looking student. It looked like they were haunted – dark rims around their eyes, cold looking even though the temperature was level. Joo and Eres felt a little more jittery with each name call, pushing them to train a little more frantically each time.
Joo looked like he was gaining confidence. He needed this, a peer who was native to these lands to coach him, dispel the mysteries of doubt that came in between the words. Perhaps t
his time it could work.
Eres was rattling off lore and facts about the philosopher’s past until Wudon emerged and called a name that made his mouth hang open.
“Crow, with me,” Wudon’s strained voice bellowed.
Unusually quiet and reserved for his normal persona, Crow trailed in behind the eerie proctor.
“No… why does he have to be here?” Eres stopped abruptly to say.
“Don’t worry, my good man. He won’t be bothering you while I’m here. Besides, odds are he’ll be kicked to the curb within ten minutes.”
But the bully remained inside Wudon’s chambers for longer than the others. More smoke poured out than normal, letting the others know that there was more activity in there this time around. It made Eres pensive. He kept asking himself - why is he here? What is his profession focus? He’s in Factions class with me… and now Roots class? What is this?
When the doors creaked open, vines on the floor retreated like snakes slithering away, and Crow emerged. His smug smirk was intact, crystal eyes radiating blue amid the fog. And then the announcement came.
“Our first participant has only one name: Crow,” Wudon proclaimed.
Eres’ stomach lurched like he’d suddenly plummeted a thousand feet.
“Wow.” Joodah was aghast. “Not even a spectator… Crow is participating. That means he has Reach.”
For the first time in his life, Eres didn’t detest the ideas of Gushda and Rudo. He yearned to be part of them. But he wasn’t. A pang of jealousy clouded his thoughts and deepened his sullen feelings further.
How could he possess Reach?
Joo noticed the look on Eres’ face and said, “Stand tall, my friend, this is your first go around. For all you know, you could be one of the four participants too. Maybe you have Reach.”
Eres inspected his smooth hands. “I’ve never felt a thing.”
“Wudon has a way of pulling it out of you, if it’s there.” Joo was hopeful for him.
Crow’s eyes found Eres’ from his secluded, elite area where only he stood. Something that looked like distaste was written on his face, like Eres was less than dirt, unworthy to walk on the same ground. And now that Eres knew the truth of the orphan, all his disgust for him did was remind Eres that he was an imposter. A fraud. Someone trying to live a life that he did not deserve.
“Forget him!” Joodah raised his voice, stretched a long arm in Eres’ field of vision and spun him away. “Let’s make sure we both get in there so he can’t get a leg up on you. I don’t care if he can move the entire sphere, I’ll put him in his place if he even tries to touch you.”
Eres looked up at his friend with a forced smile. “Thanks, Joo. Alright, let’s keep going. Apa Kernikus was the philosopher who suggested that what we see and feel is not Universally real, but only real to us based on the interaction of the senses we’ve been gifted. And that’s where the idea of Gushda was discovered. The Eternal plane.”
Joo was writing furiously on his parchment. “I don’t know how all of this is stuck in your head, but I’m happy it is.”
The two went on for another hour, and in that time five spectators and one other participant were selected. Wudon materialized again with another sad soul moping away from the crowd.
“Joodah Roe.” Wudon paused. “Not for the first time. With me.”
Joo’s eyes bulged, and Eres could almost see the anxiety crawling about him.
“Good luck,” Eres whispered loudly, patting the highest part of Joo’s back that he could reach.
Once the ominous doors latched shut, Eres had no idea what overcame him next. He walked quietly among the dim candlelight, past a crowd that was much thinner than when they started, to Crow and the girl standing next to him. He was like a moth drawn to light, a prisoner yearning for his punisher.
The orphan considered him silently, wanting Eres to squirm in his presence.
“Liars and fansas don’t belong here, and you happen to be both.”
More silence.
“Step off of the participant’s circle, or maybe I’ll just use my Reach to remove you myself,” Crow threatened.
“Perhaps I’ll be standing right next to you in a few minutes,” Eres retorted.
Crow curbed his laughter, making the girl next to him visibly uncomfortable. “You have nothing. No connection, no Reach… I’m certain of it. All you can wish for is to watch my greatness from the sidelines, insect.”
Eres took a hard step closer to him while thinking of a retort. “Careful, Crow. I grew up exploring Dolseir. The forest calls to me.” The most empty and untrue words he had ever spoken just left his mouth like vomit. Crow brought out the worst in him, like he was forcing the sexless barren-in-hiding to set him up with a lobbed pitch.
The snicker that followed made Eres want to crawl under a rock.
“Nothing calls to you, imposter, because you are nothing. A pampered boy worth less than his silky hair. Be gone, before I snap you like a twig!”
Eres eyed him before grudgingly turning away, hearing the word “Pathetic” muttered at his back. But not a moment later Eres was forced to turn. Not for Crow, but the overarching doors that crept open to reveal the huge Eplon walking out, beaming unlike most of the others who had exited Wudon’s lair. His eyes found Eres, and his brow lifted as he mouthed, “I did it!”
This was a relief. It meant so many things – the materials Eres crammed into his friend’s head was the key, someone would be there with him to subdue the orphan, and that he, Eres, would be joining the fray even if he had no connection.
“Eres, at my heel,” Wudon’s voice scratched.
When all eyes turned on him, Eres felt like his soul had been sucked out of him. Blood drained from his face, leaving him pale and cold. For some reason it took him longer than usual to get a move on. Fear, perhaps? Nerves? But eventually, like everyone else, he scurried to be one pace behind Wudon’s dark robes before the haunted doors closed unescorted.
He waved thick fog from his face but more just swirled around him, making the proctor’s cloak look like a black jelly fish taunting him in the depths of the ocean. Noises like those in the forest began to whisper in his ears, but there was nothing there. No bugs in his face, no creatures slithering under him. So much unknown in here. The temperature was changing with every step; one second it was as hot as the deserts of Steen, and the next cool mist was tickling his face.
Thoughts were stopped when Eres nearly tripped over a branch in front of him, lost his footing and latched on to Wudon’s robes to regain balance.
“S-sorry, sir.”
Wudon snapped his fingers, and the sound of a match being lit echoed before four dim flames appeared on four raised branches.
“Sit, Eres. Cross-legged with your hands on the branch in front of you.” Wudon leisurely adjusted his cloak and began to sit where there was no chair.
Eres dared to look up, his eyes widening at the sight of multiple roots intertwining to catch the proctor in a newly constructed throne of thorns.
“You have never witnessed Reach?” His good eye pierced through him.
Eres thought back to his ooma’s teachings in the forest, to all of her speeches regarding Dolseir, but never did she show him anything worth remembering.
“No, sir. Just whatever took place at the Ceremony.” he muttered.
Wudon abruptly turned his head, the thick chain around his neck jangling. “Fascinating, truly. This generation is coddled and disconnected.”
The seed of Eres’ defiance sprouted quickly at the jab. He suddenly didn’t care that he wasn’t on his home court, nor that this proctor could’ve been spawned by his wildest nightmares. Crow had already riled him outside, and as far as Eres knew, those two, Wudon and Crow, were on the same enemy team if they possessed something that he didn’t. With all of this came words spoken from someone else that he now hated.
“Magic is dead. Technology reigns in my generation. Herim Vasa and Alfonze Ren teach us the truth,” Eres dared with a s
haky voice.
Wudon’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Speak a proctor’s full name again inside Kor grounds and I will choke the life out of you.”
Vines slithered up Eres’ hands too quickly for him to pull away. They tightened, gluing him to the spot to emphasize Wudon’s threat.
“I should cease the trial here and now. A boy so dense belongs far away from advanced classes.”
Eres became even more angry, picturing Crow at Wudon’s side. He began to fidget, perhaps readying himself to get up. “Fine. End it,” he challenged, forgetting in these moments his aspirations to become a Skrol.
“You’re hot-headed. Unmeasured. Undisciplined. A new student to Kor – like a year-one,” Wudon spat before his dull eye twitched. He looked down on the boy with judgement. “You will stay.”
“As if I had a choice,” he mumbled under his breath.
The fog cleared tactically, providing clear sight of the proctor and the four flames dancing at the corners around him, while still obscuring everything else.
“Close your eyes and keep your hands where they are, Eres. Extinguish the flame to your right.”
Eres could feel Wudon’s gaze eating through him, but he tried not to focus on that, and instead did what he was told. Ignoring the same doubt that his ooma evoked, he sat there, feeling the roughness of tree bark prickling his fingertips as he gripped it harder. But beyond that, nothing at all.
What could Crow have seen that I don’t? What does my ooma hope for?
Wudon abruptly interrupted him with a scoff of his own. “You’re too grounded, stuck on your feelings of others, living in your own head. You have no mind for this, but we will try anyway.”
“How…? Can you read my thoughts?” he asked unwisely, peeking through one eye.
“No! Foolish. So foolish. But I can feel the intensity of your Reach, or lack thereof. Stop fidgeting and concentrate only on what this room offers. I will not say it again!” his voice echoed ten times before evaporating.
