by A J Witt
THE SOURCE
THE
SOURCE
Origins
A.J. WITT

SPRING CEDARS LLC
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by A.J. Witt
All rights reserved.
Printed in the United States of America.
First edition, 2019
Book cover, design, editing, and maps by Spring Cedars LLC
ISBN 978-1-950484-00-3 (paperback)
ISBN 978-1-950484-01-0 (ebook)
Published by Spring Cedars LLC
Centennial, Colorado
[email protected]
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
PART I
PART II
PART III
PART IV
EPILOGUE
PROLOGUE
Conception 1:2
1 They used something greater, and they exclaimed, “Let us control the stars!”
And they became so great that they created life itself.
2 And when they witnessed all that had been created, they rejoiced.
For they had become Gods, destined to reign from their cities of Red.
[…]
Hubris 5:8
[…]
5 But when they saw It, they wept.
Colossal tears, filling entire oceans, sweeping through the lands.
6 Because only then did the Gods comprehend the strife that had accompanied It.
And only then did they realize the outcome that was bound to occur.
7 “Did we not reveal to you the secrets of life?
Did we not reveal to you the provisions of space itself?”
8 And in our pride, we ignored them.
Using It to fulfill our greatest desires, to quench our selfish thirsts.
[…]
Castigation 14
[…]
14 And despite our protests, we were cast to start anew.
Forever bound to the earth.
PART I
CHAPTER ONE
Kyran would often gaze at faraway stars, reveling in the thought of sailing among them, just as the Dominion’s forefathers did before being cast down by the Gods. It was an impossible dream. And besides, the aura of dawn was already succeeding the dark night sky, glimmering specks of light fading until they could no longer be seen.
The young man was sitting at his usual place near the rear of the hall, close to the high-arched windows that offered a spectacular view of Phaidros. A perfect distraction from Zarkat’s dreary lessons, especially in the morning, when Kyran would survey the great city as it came to life. Now, something else drew his attention.
A new Overseer had been assigned to monitor Zarkat’s class, replacing a crusty old woman who had despised every Adept at the Academy and considered them filthy blasphemers daring to partake in sin forbidden by the Gods. She had met an unceremonious end, much to the pleasure of the students.
Mutual hate between Adept and Overseer was deeply rooted, stemming from the frightful Dread Days. A time many centuries prior when the Dread Shepherds, a group of renegade Adepts shunning the pacifist teachings of the Academy, used the Source to spread war and terror. In Dominion lore, they leveled entire villages. No way that actually happened. Though only Adepts could access energy from the Source, Kyran had trouble imagining such a display of power.
The Academy cracked down on the Dread Shepherds but lost what little goodwill existed between the factions. The Dominion’s two most prominent institutions seemed destined to clash, until a compromise was reached. They established the Council of Five, composed of an Adept from the Academy and an Overseer from the Temple, as well as three impartial lords from Phaidros’s ruling Noble Assembly. It maintained a fragile peace, enacting laws designed to placate the Temple, while providing the Adepts with enough autonomy to remain in the arrangement. One such provision allowed a number of Overseers within the Academy’s walls to observe lectures and ensure none of its students or teachers were planning a rebellion. Or to prowl through the hallways with stern faces.
Only in recent past had Adepts started venturing into the western neighborhoods of Phaidros, and little was known about their capabilities. This subjected the small minority to Dominioners’ wild imagination which was often boosted by the Temple’s public relations efforts. Incredible Source-powered technologies developed at the Academy yet shared with everyone failed to remedy the perception that Adepts were withdrawn and dangerous. Moreover, current events yielded a surge of support for the Overseers. Mystifying attacks left towns on the Dominion outskirts ravaged, with accusatory fingers pointing at the Academy. And then, an unthinkable assault on the Council itself, so savage it had shocked Phaidrosians to their core.
The Overseers smelled blood, Kyran saw it in their leering eyes and pathetic grins. Gods, I hate them all. Wait … maybe not all. The new monitor in Zarkat’s course that morning was not the archetypical Overseer, and Kyran had trouble keeping his eyes off her. During his years of studies, though few, he had never come across a Temple official quite like this one. They tended to act rigid and sour. She seems much more carnal.
Barely older than the students, she introduced herself as Gwen. Standing near the front of the classroom, the Overseer had her back to the high-arched window closest to the instructor’s dais, and as the sunlight engulfed her figure from behind, Kyran could make out the sensuous shape of her legs beneath the long white dress. Lucky I came to class today. I’d be missing a revealing sunrise. She shifted her weight slightly to the left and brought her thighs close together. Kyran’s heart leapt. Her voluptuous hips appeared ready to burst through the clothing. When Gwen turned in his direction, her dark hair shimmered in the sunlight. The young man looked away. Did she see me staring?
A glance back and, much to his relief, Kyran found Gwen’s amber eyes focusing elsewhere. The Adept moved his gaze down her body and wondered how he would ever pass the class. Not that I learn anything in the first place. He shook his head to clear his mind, but any effort to concentrate was short-lived. Gwen walked toward the window. The Overseer’s entire body moved with a seamless flow, each step more pleasing than the previous. Kyran conjured up suggestive images in which they were alone. She was kneeling, a lustful smile on her lips, playfully sliding the dress up and off her body.
“Kyran!” barked Zarkat. “Would you please focus on the task at hand, rather than on our Overseer’s backside?”
Horrified, the student found Gwen staring at him, a look of indignation contorting her otherwise enchanting features. How embarrassing. Kyran heard concealed snickering from his peers.
“Good, now that I have your attention,” Zarkat said, “perhaps you can answer the question I have just posed to the class.”
The young man realized that since the start of the lecture, he had not captured a single word from the teacher’s mouth. “Can you please repeat the question? Uh … sir.” Kyran ran his fingers through his long hair, trying his best to appear annoyed.
“Well, if you paid attention,” responded Zarkat, “you would know what to say. Instead, you were too busy contemplating other matters.” Following the overt barb, the class found little need to mask its laughter, much to the teacher’s delight.
A lonely student by his own volition, Kyran had few friends at the Academy. Anything to avoid living in his shadow. The young man’s predicament kindled a nascent fury, and everything started to anger him. Zarkat’s obnoxious smile, the laughing students, Gwen’s disapproval. A flush of heat ran through Kyran’s face, an
d he knew his eyes were shining brightly, just as they would for any Adept drawing energy from the Source.
“Stop right now!” Zarkat shouted.
Kyran ignored his teacher. That he was in grave violation of Academy rules, specifically those prohibiting Source usage outside of supervised classroom activities, bothered him little. Then again, his lack of obedience on the matter was not a newfound issue. Kyran relished the surge of energy in his body. It percolated through his core and pulsated in his veins. The Source made him feel stronger, more powerful. Zarkat’s muted shouts were coming from a distant place, and Kyran pictured himself in a bubble, one that could roll over anything. Had he seen Gwen’s expression change from disapproval to one of concern, maybe he would have stopped. But I can almost touch the Source. Taste it on my lips.
A powerful shock wave reverberated through the lecture hall. Papers flew in all directions, jugs of water were knocked over, and the chalk splintered into pieces. Kyran opened his eyes to survey the damage and was met with looks of stupefaction and condemnation.
“Get out of my classroom!”
CHAPTER TWO
Peering out of a window high in the South Tower, Edvon cringed as the restive crowd thickened. He could sense the hate emanating from the group gathered down below. Dread them! Don’t they have anything better to do? Students joined him to see for themselves what was taking place outside. The rioters were now shouting in unison to draw the attention of anyone who cared to listen.
“Rapers, murderers, pillagers, stay away from our villagers! Rapers, murderers, pillagers, stay away from our villagers!”
Edvon rolled his eyes. As a beacon to Source users throughout the ages, the Academy had repeatedly been the target of such aggressions. These were increasing as a result of the unexplainable attacks on Dominion villages. How could they think we’re responsible for such atrocities? Just because we make for an easy scapegoat.
That the Academy allowed for such demonstrations to occur within its walls was puzzling, yet the Court of Grievances did permit those with objections to Adept practices to voice them peacefully. Those shouts don’t sound very peaceful. Edvon shook his head and noticed the worried expressions around him. “They can protest all they want,” he said to provide reassurance, “but it won’t ever diminish our abilities.”
They were skeptical. “I hope you’re right,” one of them replied. “Though you have less to fear than the rest of us.”
Edvon shrugged off the compliment, one he had grown accustomed to hearing during his time at the Academy. While the young man self-acknowledged his superior talents, he avoided flaunting them. The Adept’s humility stemmed from the fact that although he had been gifted with Source drawing capacities, he spent countless hours practicing and refining them. A diligent work ethic combined with an unpresuming attitude earned him high regard among his peers. Edvon was well-liked, and he knew it. Dubbed a prodigy by his teachers, the star student carried himself with pride. Some even pegged him as a future major source manipulator.
“You know, maybe the preceptor should just close the Court of Grievances,” someone suggested.
Not a bad idea. Marrek should … Marrek! The thought of the preceptor snapped Edvon back to reality. I’m supposed to meet him in five minutes. He spun around. “Sorry, got to go.” Politely pushing his way through the small group of students gathered by the window, the Adept dashed toward the wooden door near the back of the room. He swung it open, revealing a steep staircase serving as the South Tower’s sole entryway. Often congested with people, Edvon was pleased to find the path unhindered. He made his way, making sure not to slip on the uneven stone steps. Got to be careful. Too many times students would race down the stairs, only to crash at the bottom.
The Academy, a splendid architectural landmark in Phaidros, was a circular building. An outer ring, through which Edvon ran, contained modest living quarters for the students. The raised inner ring was more luxurious and housed the teachers. Each had his or her own suite with a personal washroom, in stark contrast to the communal showers Edvon used every morning. In the middle of the Academy rose the Ivory Tower, home to the preceptor. Visiting Marrek required traversing several buildings and climbing many staircases, a veritable expedition, yet one that Edvon found worthwhile.
The young Adept crossed the narrow courtyard sandwiched between the rings, picking up sweet honey scents from the jakarhandas bordering the walls. They were blooming in the wake of a long and harsh winter, exhibiting a stunning array of purples. Students occupied benches under the trees, socializing or reading from thick leather-bound tomes. Edvon sighed, realizing he too had much studying left. One thing at a time.
He followed a long flight of steps to the Crimson Garden, named after the red brick covering its ground. Teachers or the occasional Overseer frequented the outdoor space separating the inner ring from the Ivory Tower, providing the young man with an excellent reason to hustle along.
“Edvon!”
Exactly what I wanted to avoid. The Adept grimaced and turned around, expecting the worst. A bulky man was walking in his direction, wearing the Temple’s distinct white robes. “Broque,” replied Edvon with a half-hearted wave. “How are you?” Though most Adepts despised Overseers, the young man found himself rather indifferent to their presence at the Academy. Fake courtesy when required and otherwise ignore.
“By Auralus, I’m doing well!” exclaimed Broque. “And I’d be doing better if you’d accepted my offer.” The large Overseer grinned, teeth visible underneath his bushy beard. Soft hazel eyes and a lethargic demeanor made Broque look approachable, unlike his more reserved and unsociable brethren.
Edvon assessed the sincerity of the smile. “I appreciate your offer, but I’m sorry to say … I’m not interested.”
“You’d be happier at the Temple.”
“And why is that?” asked Edvon.
“Leave this place and you’ll find out.”
“Not a risk I’m willing to take.”
“Ah,” Broque replied in a subdued tone. “Well, the offer will always be on the table. Remember one thing, Edvon. Whatever magical powers you Adepts possess isn’t everything in life. Strong men like you, with character and integrity, are always welcome at the Temple.”
Edvon nodded, repressing an urge to laugh as Broque walked away. Character and integrity? What a joke. Overseers had been trying to persuade him to defect to the Temple for years, and it was always the same pitch. Given their rejection of the Source, most relied on brute strength to achieve success, making Edvon a natural target of their overtures. From an early age the young Adept had been blessed with incredible physical prowess. Standing a foot taller than most, he spent considerable time exercising and toning his impressive physique. With perfect abdominals and well-defined muscle lines running from his traps to his calves, Edvon had even been recruited by the professional baqua associations of Phaidros. He preferred to remain at the Academy where both his skills and looks—curly brown locks with green eyes and a strong clean-shaven jawline—earned him the attention of his colleagues.
“See you around,” called out Broque.
Gods, I hope not. Edvon sprang up the Ivory Spire’s steps, recognizing he would be several minutes late to his meeting. I’ll just say I had to fend off Overseers on the way. The Adept walked through the spire’s entranceway, taking in a sight that never ceased to amaze him. From the foyer, one could see all the way up to the preceptor’s office, accessible via a Source-powered elevator. The hollow spire was made of white marble, and its architects had incorporated natural light intending to give the space a feeling of tranquility. Edvon hurried toward the only means of access to what lay above.
Despite having been in Marrek’s office multiple times, he was thoroughly frisked by guards at the bottom of the elevator shaft. They ushered him into the lift which started a slow and steady ascent. As he stood waiting, Edvon realized the purpose of his upcoming meeting was unknown to him. The previous night in the Great Hall, Marrek had asked
the young man to come to the office without the slightest indication of his reasons. The elevator lurched upward. I guess I’m about to find out. Predicting the preceptor’s intentions was difficult, and Edvon had no desire to establish a habit of trying.
He was directed to Marrek’s waiting room, located just outside the luxurious and spacious sanctum he had seen more often than any other student. As he turned the corner, Edvon laid his eyes upon another Adept sitting with his head bowed. Well, almost any other student.
The visitor had long brown hair down to his collarbone, and he was tall, perhaps one of the few Adepts who rivaled Edvon in that respect.
“It’s always one step too far with you, Kyran. Just one step too far.”
He was being scolded by the Academy’s second-in-command, an officer by the name of Elias.
“How many times do we have to deal with you and your uncontrolled actions?”
Edvon entered the room, and the student raised his pointed chin to look at the star Adept. His gray eyes flickered as he broke into a mischievous grin. By all the Gods! What now? Edvon marched toward his little brother.
CHAPTER THREE
Aiden sighed. “Okay, let’s start over. The shopkeeper said he noticed the man before or after the Source Powered Carrier came around the bend?”
“The shopkeeper said, and I quote, ‘Right as the SPC drove around the corner,’” answered a junior agent as he looked down at his notes.
“And we’ve established our bomber came down the alley?” Aiden was pointing at a sketch on the wall. He left no time for his subordinates to answer and skipped straight to a more practical question. “Have we interviewed the residents of the alley?”
