“Shut up Remi, this is serious!” said Baelie, using all her strength to hold back her raging sister.
“RET ME GOW! I’LL GILL HER,” screamed Remi through her sister’s pudgy hands.
Theresa flicked her hair out of her eyes once more and turned her back.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t come here merely for pleasure,” said Theresa. “You three have been summoned by Lady Enies.”
Baelie was speechless.
Remi froze.
“Lady Enies, the acting Vice Captain of the Force Corps, commands that you are to report to the Valyti in one turn of the shade.” She paused for a moment before muttering, “I say, they should really have the low-ranking soldiers take care of these things.”
With that, Theresa turned with perfect elegance and walked away, the sun glistening down upon her ardent silver armor. An instant later, she vanished into thin air, leaving nothing but remnant gusts of wind and the perfumed scent of apple blossoms.
Baelie was stiff like a statue—except that she was drooling. An instant later her heart was racing and she came to the only possible explanation for what had happened. “They’ve recognized my fate and are going to make me Vice Captain!” she bellowed to the sky. A dozen tiny swallows scattered from the branches of the lone tree.
Remi was collapsed on the ground, staring at the torn pages of her favorite book. An unspeakable rage overwhelmed her and she swore revenge against the evil Lady Theresa for destroying what was most precious to her.
Far behind the tree, Maile was trembling in fear and could feel warm liquid seeping down her leg. Her fingers were clenched tightly, causing them to turn a pale white and she fumbled while she double-, triple-, and quadruple-checked to see if her helmet was secure. She was unable to shake the word “Valyti” from her mind. It was a place she had never, ever, wanted to step foot into, not in her entire life. And now they were to report there, for reasons completely unknown to them, within the turn of the shade.
IV – The Truth of Inner Depths
Back in the world of Soria, on the farthest-reaching tip of the floating land Falia, in a place known only as the Edge, were three levitating figures—two boys and one old man. The three floated calmly over the ground in a sitting position with legs crossed and eyes closed, perched upon the jutting of a cliff’s point. It was a place none of their kind had ever passed beyond, the very edge of their world, believed by all to be a place of no return, for stepping forth would only lead to the realm of Mortal Aeryx.
Caim’s eyes shot open as if he had just awoken from a nightmare. Instantly, the bright of daylight overcame his sight, forcing him to squint hazily. His breathing was heavy and his heart racing. His left hand was clenched tightly as if holding something dear, but upon opening it, only cool air filled an empty space. A chill breeze swept past Caim and his senses focused on the birth of the light: past the salient cliff they sat upon and far off on the horizon past a stretch of thin white clouds was the falling Sun, blazing orange beyond a sky of sapphire.
To his left was Storm, blinking as the same light blinded him; also slowly opening his hand as if what lay within was more important than his own life. Before them both was Ronin, who had yet to open his eyes; his great black cloak hung over his shoulders. The three sat cross-legged in a perfect triangle, floating a foot and a half over swaying green grass. Between them, each of their blades had been drawn and pierced into the earth, separating them, yet connecting them in ways unbeknownst to any who might have seen.
Caim felt like he had just emerged from a thousand-hour meditation—and that he’d taken a good thrashing, too. Taking a deep breath, and with considerable difficulty, he found his focus. It was not meditation they were emerging from. It was not anything so tranquil and peaceful. It was the world of Inner Depths: a dormant world within one’s own mind born of emotions, fears, joys and past experiences. A world that all Sorians had created subconsciously, yet most were unaware of. In fact, most never even knew it existed. It was a place of overwhelming difficulty to find, and only accessible through rings of rigorous training and the passing of certain stages. Caim shivered as he recalled the world’s destruction. It had been so real. He thought he could still feel the scorching heat of the flames, the pain of the ice and the cold of blades. A few more seconds and they would have succumbed and fallen. The world they had just exited had been the product of their grandfather’s mind, and it was through the touching of their blades that he had pulled them in. Accessing one’s own Inner Depths was one thing, but pulling others into your own mind was another—a technique that only their grandfather had become Master of—and the very technique with which he had trained them for most of their lives. Five cycles—five hundred rings—they had trained in that deathly world, losing over and over to their grandfather, and it was only now that the two brothers had finally overcome the challenge that had threatened to haunt them for eternity.
A sudden feeling of happiness, stronger than any emotion Caim had ever experienced, surged through his heart and mind. They had done it! After so many cycles of failing, losing to the unconquerable power of their grandfather, they had finally done it. Without thinking, Caim smacked his fist into his hand as a mighty grin curved across his face and he screamed to the skies above in triumph.
“YOSHA!!!”
He heard his voice carry on as if reaching for the distant horizon. From behind, birds erupted from a line of steep trees. Caim grinned at his accomplishment, taking note of the many birds in the sky.
“A little excited, aren’t we?” said Storm, flashing his bright eyes from underneath his black hood. “You might as well jump up and run around in circles.”
Caim looked to his brother with a sharp expression and watched as Storm hid his face, concealing a grin that he didn’t wish to share.
Their grandfather had a wide smile shining from his bearded face, not trying at all to hide his pride. This was a moment he had much anticipated, yet all the while, was never sure if he would live to see. In all the world of Soria, he alone was the only one who had overcome and mastered Inner Depths. He took a long and deep breath, as if the air brought forth something new he had never quite felt before. For a second, he couldn’t believe it was real, but the thought of the two boys holding the bells underneath the moon resonated strongly in his mind – he had made the right choice.
“Well, I must say …” began their grandfather.
Caim’s eyes looked up in anticipation.
Storm’s ears perked up from under his hood.
“… I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Never underestimate our awesomeness,” said Caim. He grinned widely and rested his hands on the back of his head, staring towards the sky.
Ronin laughed. “I never expected you two to actually work together. Foolishness on my own part, I should never have underestimated my own grandsons. I suppose that is the reason I fell so easily for your trick—although Caim, that was pretty convincing.” He looked to Caim who was about to pick his nose. “I’m surprised you were able to make it through … but, at the end, with the world’s destruction rising … you two really were together as one! Nevertheless … next time don’t waste so much blood cutting each other.”
“There isn’t going to be a next time,” said Storm. A strange feeling suddenly came over him. The thought of their training being completed was almost unfathomable. Everything they had worked for since they were little kids … all the blood, sweat, endless hours without sleeping … the mental torture, or so it felt like such at the worst of times—it was all over. Over! Now, what could possibly come next?
Caim stared with blank eyes at Ronin. “What are you talking about?”
A strange expression crept across Ronin’s face and Storm grinned, snapping out of his daydream. He had been waiting for this.
“Sorry to break it to you, but Caim has no idea what you’re talking about,” Storm said. “We both know Caim couldn�
��t tell a lie to save his life. He just happened to be in the right place at the right time, nothing more, and nothing less. So don’t get all emotional about it, old man.” A wry smile curled across his lips.
Ronin’s eyes grew shadowed. “You did it again,” he whispered.
“Wait,” said Caim, looking confused. “I don’t get it.”
Storm looked up at Ronin, feigning an innocent look. He knew what was coming.
“How many times do I have to tell you,” whispered Ronin under his breath. His eyes grew sharp and cold, staring straight at Storm as if he they were piercing him, and with a heavy breath, his shout boomed like thunder. “I’m … not … OLD!”
WHOOSH!
Storm ducked just in time to dodge the old man’s strike, his cross-legged sitting posture shifting in the air as he maintained his levitation. Over and over, Ronin’s strikes sliced the air faster than the eye could see, but Storm merely grinned, leisurely dodging the blows each time as he floated there; the wind of the missed strikes shook the leaves of all the trees.
Ronin stared hard into Storm’s eyes as he attacked his wily grandson. Now he got it. Storm had been pretending all along to want to fight on his own. He knew that Caim’s mind and personality were not capable of carrying out such a delicate mental strategy, so he adapted his strategy in order to make Caim react like he wanted him to. That’s why I was unable to read the trick, thought Ronin. Because from almost every angle … it wasn’t. It’s almost scary how the boy’s mind works… .”
WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!
One of the old man’s angry blows came quite close, and blew his hood back onto his shoulders. He shook his black hair from his eyes, and the face of a teenage boy with bright green eyes came into view.
Caim raised his eyebrow in confusion, watching the flurry of attacks. He had no idea what they were talking about. Couldn’t tell a lie to save his life? His eyes narrowed. “I could totally tell a lie if I needed to save my own life!” he said. He didn’t even notice the twitching of his eyes as he thought. And then, out of the blue, he remembered his brother’s wounds.
“Um, Storm? Shouldn’t you be pretty close to dead?” said Caim, holding his fingers over his ribs. “You took the most blows out of all of us, and you were all covered in blood… .” And then, as if the answer to his question had been obvious the whole time, Caim’s eyes grew wide with a sense of betrayal. “Did you … DID YOU GET A NEW POWER!? WHAT THE HELL, STORM, WHY DIDN’T YOU—“
CRAAAACK!!! Storm’s fist ran straight up into Caim’s chin. Caim was launched upwards in the air, tumbling head over heels with his legs still crossed and fell perfectly on his head, his white vest falling down over his face and to the ground.
“You’re an idiot, you know that?” said Storm, holding his fist up in the air. Behind him, their grandfather was breathing heavily after attempting to smack Storm so many times and missing. Apparently his age did catch up to him at times. Storm’s eyes flashed back to his grandfather, his lips twisting as he pieced his words together carefully.
“And why don’t you take a seat. You look tired, old man.”
Their grandfather raised his clenched hands to the sky as if he were beckoning towards the Gods. Flocks of birds rose from the trees as he roared, “HAVE THE HEIRS OF MY YOUTH ABANDONED ME SO!?!?”
“Yes,” said Storm bluntly.
Caim pointed straight at the birds. “Why do they keep doing that!?” Nothing but the flutter of wings answered his shout. He looked back to Ronin and raised an eyebrow.
Ronin felt as if a giant black rain cloud were hovering only above him. And then, just when he thought it was impossible to get worse, a big wet drop landed right on his forehead.
Caim’s eyes grew wide. Storm’s eyes grew wider. And then Caim pointed at their grandfather. “YOU TOTALLY JUST GOT POOPED ON!” He fell to the ground, laughing loudly. Storm cocked a grin as he watched the horror on their grandfather’s face. Ronin started running around in circles, before taking a turn towards them, dashing at Storm in the blink of an eye and wiping his face with Storm’s black sweater.
“Hey! HEY!” shouted Storm, but it was too late. “Gods be damned!!!” He quickly collected leaves from the one tree perched before the edge of the cliff and cleaned his sweater.
Now that was a sight that brought a smile to Ronin’s face. The leaves did little more than smear the poop around. Storm cast Ronin an angry glare and put his hood back on. Caim continued laughing until finally he calmed down and asked what it was they were talking about before.
“You always forget everything,” Storm said. He rubbed his sweater on the grass. “Stupid old man,” he muttered.
“What was that?” asked Ronin, as if he had supernatural hearing.
“Nothing,” said Storm. “I was just going to explain to Caim, again, that wounds inflicted during Inner Depths do not travel back with us. So, no matter what happens in Inner Depths you will be fine upon returning. However—”
“You’re wrong!” Caim said with unbelieving eyes. “You’ve got a secret new power that you didn’t want to tell me about. But you have to tell me the truth, Storm!”
Storm took a deep breath and continued. “As I was saying… However, if you die in Inner Depths, it’s the same as allowing your mind to die. You will return to the normal world, but not the same. You will be a mindless person in your former body. In other words, exactly … like … you.”
“What!?” screamed Caim, jumping to his feet and shaking his fist at Ronin. “OLD MAN, YOU WERE TRYING TO KILL ME IN THERE! I KNEW IT!”
Ronin smiled, “of course I was.”
“I knew it!!!” Caim screamed, his silver hair spiking furiously above him. Eyes like blue steel seemed to slice toward the old man, and one could clearly see the vertical slits of black within his eyes pulsating.
Storm took one look at Caim and laughed. “You look like a spiky-haired Tree Spirit, angry over losing one of its precious gems.”
Caim’s enraged aura suddenly vanished, and he immediately collapsed to his hands and knees, crushed by being compared to the pint-sized Tree Spirits. “But they’re only five inches tall,” whispered Caim in bitter defeat.
Ronin’s voice grew cold. “This isn’t a game, Caim. You have been training your entire life to master the Soul of the Swordsman. If I wasn’t trying earnestly to kill you, I wouldn’t be teaching you much of anything.” Ronin spoke in a serious tone, and Caim knew Ronin had deep pride in those he deemed Swordsmen.
“You are training in one of the most difficult arts of our world,” Ronin continued. “If you are not able to survive with the cold eyes of Death gazing upon you … then you have no place holding that sword at all.”
Caim looked to his Fallblade without words. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t unlock its true form, he thought. Caim was suddenly saddened, as if he had been defeated. He kept staring at the blade. It had returned to its original form.
“I was hoping it might stay in that form,” said Caim.
“Get stronger and unlock it yourself next time,” said Storm.
Ronin’s voice became gentle. “Remember, Caim, a sword is merely a weapon, a tool of destruction.” He walked over and pulled his blade from the ground. “Yet with it one can hone instinct and senses, come into wisdom, and mold philosophies. Death will always be a part of this cycle, and you must overcome it in more ways than one. Once your blade has seen blood it will be forever changed, in ways good and ill. The crimson stains may be wiped clean, but the memories will live with the blade—and you—eternally. That is why the Firstborn crafted their art around a task of protection. The key to the strength of all Swordsmen is not slaying those who are stronger, but protecting those who are weaker. We fight to protect, nothing more, nothing less. Do not fear Death, embrace it, for its shadow will always be ubiquitous.”
Caim focused only on the last word. “Ubi … coo …
tus.”
Storm sighed while Caim struggled over the meaning. He knew his grandfather’s words were harsh but true. He knew that Swordsmen, true Swordsmen, faced Death each time they unsheathed their blades. It was an art of mental and physical prowess. If a Swordsman’s mind was untrained and at any time he lost focus, even for a moment, then his own life would be the cost of his weakness. He also knew the stories of the Firstborn quite well, and their philosophies had been carved into his grandfather’s mind along with his own. He flexed his fist and felt his heart rush as he thought of their strength, and secretly his own dream was rekindled.
I will surpass all those before me. I will defeat those who deem themselves the strongest. I will become the greatest Swordsman to have ever lived. I will climb to the top of this world, then soar until I become one with the stars. Storm clenched his fist tightly at his side as he stared at the two moons. This I will do for myself.
Caim, in the meantime, voiced a question that had been bothering him ever since fighting in Inner Depths. “Wait … where did those monsters come from when we were fighting you?” The Volcanic Titans with their pale skulls and gaping black eyes were, by far, the biggest creatures he had ever laid eyes upon. A shiver crept up his spine as he thought of their pitch black eyes.
Their grandfather sighed. “Caim, you really do never listen. The world of Inner Depths is your world. The closer you are to mastery, the more the world becomes yours to craft. I envisioned those monsters and thus, they came to be. You can’t even begin to imagine all the hidden secrets of Inner Depths. One day, if you truly master the technique, and learn to enter other’s worlds, or allow others to enter your own, you may finally glimpse the wings that come with true transcendence.”
The wings? Storm asked.
Ronin looked hard at Storm, “That’s right, the wings. There are many things of this world that exist beyond your imagination. There are many things that can be greater than they seem. In time, as you progress as a Swordsman and as a Sorian, you may eventually be able to glimpse the wings. Only if you can transcend beyond yourself that is, beyond the level of a Sorian.”
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