Aetherian Skies- Powershift Read online

  Aetherian Skies

  P O W E R S H I F T

  Nikolas Alexander

  eBook First Edition, published November 2018

  Copyright © 2018 by Nikolas Alexander

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Produced in the United States of America

  Visit aetherianskies.com

  Aetherian Skies

  Of Aether

  Prologue

  I

  II

  III

  IV

  V

  VI

  VII

  VIII

  IX

  Epilogue

  Of Aether

  In the beginning, there was light; a gentle essence spreading slowly through the darkness. Like ink in water, it filled the void, blanketing the farthest reaches in its warmth, and soothing the chaos that would become life.

  It was in these moments the heavens were born—an endless expanse of everything and nothing. A place where the past, present, and future converged on the boundaries of existence. And in their wake, several elements emerged, the forces of nature that would govern the new creation.

  Together, they would bring an order that had long been denied, cleverly procuring an everlasting cycle of life and death that touched all things. With balance came harmony, and so life flourished. For aeons, a notion of peace prevailed throughout the infinite worlds below, but it was never meant to be.

  For in the darkest shadows of the oldest realms, anarchy returned, slowly seeping through the seams of content and bearing temptation. Over time, light began to fade, the darkness spreading as greed and deceit were eagerly embraced.

  But the light persisted, even as it was forgotten. Unable to be extinguished fully, a seed was planted, a final hope buried among the ashes of despair. There it waited, and waited, and waited. Until the dawning of a new age, when Aether would rise again...

  Prologue

  Property of the Celestia Central Archives

  Royal Tower, First Floor

  Celestia, Realm of Hyvael

  2nd Era, Year 2510

  Department of Historic Accounts, Epigraphy Division

  FOR AUTHORIZED EYES ONLY

  Please note: translations contained herein are approximate and represent only the most literal interpretations, discretion is advised.

  The First Hyvaelian Texts:

  A Chronicle of Recovered Artifacts

  Date of Inscription: Unknown

  Author: Unknown

  FINAL ENTRY

  A prosperous nation will fall. And from the ruins, a new era will begin. An era to end all eras, led by a strong and determined mind, the likes of which has never been seen. The victim of a fate not of his own, but a casualty of a destiny long foreseen. His arrival will accompany a change of power, the Return that cannot be denied. But it should not be feared. There is hope. The forces of nature will align, Aether will find a way.

  Historian's note: There are no subsequent entries or markings on the tablet, and this specimen appears to have been severed transversely about the midsection. The construction remains identical to the others; finely polished hexagonal stone equal on all sides and precisely one inch thick. No further remnants or artifacts were uncovered in the vicinity.

  I

  The door slammed against the stone wall of the Commander’s private chamber, letting in a rush of air to mix with the musty atmosphere of the dimly lit room. It was refreshing, but short lived. In the same instant, a dark figure entered, hooded and cloaked.

  His face was wrapped in a thick shroud, concealing all but a pair of eyes, dry and bloodshot. He stepped calmly through the candlelight, yet was firm in his approach. Confident. Each movement appeared calculated and deliberate.

  The crooked figure paused in the center of the room across from the seated man who had requested his presence, standing, waiting.

  Lord Helvete, Commander of the Legion, glanced up from the worn parchment at his desk just long enough to acknowledge the arrival of his most trusted and skilled ally, then signaled the guard to leave them.

  The heavily armored soldier standing watch at the entryway was quick to depart, leaving the crack of hard wood on rock to rattle each man’s core as the door pulled closed behind him.

  “What news do you bring, Daryus?” came the powerful call of Lord Helvete reverberating off the walls as he rose to his feet ahead of the shrouded man.

  He towered over his accomplice, who in his own right was an intimidating warrior—among the most brutal and unforgiving to ever step onto the battlefield. But the contrast in size between the two battle-hardened veterans was undeniable, further fortifying the Commander’s position of superiority among the Legion, and anyone else careless enough to cross his path.

  “It can be done,” Daryus replied in his usual hellish tone, referring to Helvete’s ambitious plan to seize the four elemental powers of the Arch Knights into a single, controllable entity.

  Despite the good news, Helvete nearly cringed with the man's every utterance, a distinctly low and raspy grinding of syllables that sounded profanely grotesque, as if they'd been churned up from the netherworld.

  “You are sure?” Helvete demanded excitedly. “And the amulet, do you have it?”

  “As predicted.” Daryus had already begun retrieving the relic from within the satchel at his side before answering. He passed the artifact over the wide desk, still wrapped in the thick cloth added for protection.

  “Good, then we must move forward with the attack.”

  Helvete took the worn fabric in his hand and went to work peeling apart its many layers. It was quite a bit lighter than he expected.

  “There is a village south of the city,” Daryus added, detracting the anxious man's focus, “with rumors of artifacts dating back to before the First Era in the surrounding hills and caverns.”

  “What are you saying, Daryus, you believe this to be the lost capital?” he asked, raising his eyes at the unexpected information.

  “The Arch Knights will be on the trail soon, but we could get there first.”

  “And acquire the final element—you believe it's there?”

  “I am certain.”

  This was interesting news indeed. If Daryus was right, it would add a new facet to his plan, one the Arch Knights could only ever dream of. With the power to create and destroy at the heart of the amulet, he could not only have Celestia and its kingdom, but the entire world. He would be a living god!

  Helvete revealed a sly grin. “Come, Daryus!” he said, slamming the amulet down on the desk. “We have no time to lose.”

  The pair proceeded into the cold and dreary passages of the abandoned citadel, guided only by the dwindling flicker of firelight along its decaying walls. Helvete had been through these corridors so many times before, he could almost navigate them with his eyes closed, which was convenient given the few sparsely placed torches still burning.

  The air cooled, yet remained thick and heavy as they passed through a pair of tall gates and into what had come to be known as the Celestia Undercity, a forbidden expanse of stone and mortar buried hundreds of feet beneath the surface. But more accurately, it was a graveyard. A tomb for the great capital's previous generations of sprawling architecture.

  With the introduction of each new era, the realm's grandest city was rebuilt, but not on its ruins. Instead, what remained served as the foundation for the new city above, sealing the past beneath a layer of stone as its towers reached for the sky.

  For what it's worth, there was still several millennia of history down here, stretching all the way back to the Fi
rst Era and the very birth of the Dynasty. But all that was lower still, lost to the deepest parts of the caverns and corridors that have remained unseen for thousands of years. Here, among the streets of the Second Era, reality was never too far away, as the occasional rays of light peering in through the crumbling rooftops could attest to.

  Back on the surface, Celestia basked in the glory of its third and most prominent era, but it wouldn't last. Helvete was closer than ever to making sure of that, teetering on the verge of a revolution. The reign of the King and his elemental Arch Knights was finally at an end. The Texts willed it.

  Two doors suddenly emerged from the darkness, captured between a pair of fading flames. Helvete grabbed one of them, then drove the thick wooden slabs open without missing a step, as if swatting a fly.

  He strolled briefly around the room, methodically touching the fire against the torches densely lining the perimeter and bringing its walls alive. A dance of shadows began on the table at the center, revealing a large map sprawled over its dusty surface dotted with dozens of hefty pins and nails.

  “Show me this village, Daryus,” Helvete shouted as he leaned over the table bearing the outline of their vast continent of Hyvael. “Let’s see where our army will stretch its legs.”

  The loyal agent, retaining his shroud, responded by sliding a star-shaped figurine into the center of the map.

  “Here, at this fork,” he grunted, pointing at a small river just below the marker a considerable distance from the city.

  Helvete looked inquisitively at the location in question. “There? I wasn’t aware that area was inhabited, is it a new settlement?”

  “It is an independent society; no military, no trade. They choose not to identify.”

  Helvete paced along the table as the cloaked man continued.

  “There is an ore mine nearby; a remnant of the First Era. It is believed many of the laborers settled in the village after it was abandoned, but its actual origins are unknown.”

  The man took a long pause as he struggled to regain his breath, the labored sounds of his breathing filling the room. “My sources correlate this location with the first traces of the Dynasty's origins, and the first reported elemental existence.”

  Lord Helvete stopped in his place. If this truly was the lost birthplace of the Dynasty, then he was sure the final element was there now. He knew as well as anybody else that the accuracy of the Texts couldn't be disputed. Since their discovery, every single prediction has come to pass. As impossible as it seemed, the writings were never wrong. And this time, if what Daryus said was true, he would be the one holding all the cards.

  “Then it's settled, we march at once. The Arch Knights cannot be allowed to acquire the element. Assemble the troops, Daryus!”

  But the man didn't budge, and instead forced out another handful of words.

  “There is a boy.”

  “He's of no concern,” replied Helvete sharply, all too familiar with the prophesied host mentioned in the Texts.

  “He must be destroyed.”

  “Nonsense. I need him alive.”

  But the shrouded man wasn't convinced. “The Texts suggest the procedure can succeed after death.”

  “But only briefly,” Helvete argued. “It's too risky. Once I have what I want, you can do as you like. But not until I have him!”

  Helvete turned back to the map. “In two weeks’ time, the Dynasty will enter its greatest era, and will no longer answer to the tyranny of the Arch Knights. The reign of the Dynasty and its oppression is finally at an end!”

  He chuckled lightly. Good riddance.

  II

  Oren wound the leather strap tightly around the hilt for the last time before tucking the end under itself, securing the grip firmly in place beneath the hand guard.

  “Got it,” he said. “Now that’s a sword.”

  He brought the newly constructed weapon to his eyes as he sat in the corner of the cramped room, examining his work for any flaws. In just over three months, he had successfully crafted his first sword.

  It wasn’t much to look at now, before sharpening and polishing, but it was sturdy and of good weight. And in a few more hours, he would behold the finest sword he’d ever seen.

  “Ha! You mean that flimsy saber you’ve been piecing together all season?”

  Oren smirked, ignoring the banter coming from the next room; such a sly remark was to be expected from Thomas. He knew the experienced weaponsmith didn’t anticipate an answer anyway, and unsurprisingly the familiar shrieks of steel on stone echoed from the hall as the grinding wheel started again in the distance, powered by the water wheel’s steady churning in the stream at the back of the workshop.

  Oren remained focused on his own work at the table, his fingers following the contours of the dull blade as he inhaled the smell of burning metal that continued to fill the already stale air.

  This was his first attempt at making a sword, which had been a real challenge since the beginning. From gathering the raw materials to forging each of its components, he labored meticulously over every detail to create quite an impressive specimen of elegance and power.

  It meant a lot to the young man who, bound to the simple life of the village, was seldom met with new and exciting opportunities. But when they did arise, he was determined to pour his heart into every aspect, and remain devoted to the end.

  The grinding stopped a minute later before a bulky figure entered the already too cluttered room, disheveled and sweating, gripping something in his hands. Thomas grunted as he swung up the steel weapon with a grin, letting it linger above Oren’s table that was plastered with sunlight filtering through the dusty windows.

  “This is a sword,” he asserted, flashing the daunting claymore in front of Oren briefly before it fell uncontrollably with a loud clang on the stone floor.

  The claymore was clearly a tool of shear destruction, and must have weighed half as much as he. Undoubtedly impressive, but understandably of limited use to an unspecialized swordsman.

  Oren watched in wonder as Thomas then lugged the steel monstrosity over to an old rack in the corner where several other swords sat crookedly on display. The already unstable wooden frame seemed to nearly collapse as Thomas carelessly slew the weapon on the end in a cloud of dust, dwarfing the other residents and giving the rack a feeble lean as it started to buckle.

  “How was this place still in one piece,” he thought, glancing over the shoddy construction of the other furniture and workbenches that filled the room. Even the stool beneath him was a hazard, swaying from side to side with the slightest of movements.

  You wouldn’t know upon first glance, but Thomas was an amazing craftsman and artisan, one of the most well-known in the land and rightly so. He could create the lightest and strongest of arms, each completely unique, and sell them for far less than the competition. If you purchased a weapon from Thomas, you could easily expect your grandchildren to get just as much use out of it as you would. And despite his reputation as an eccentric hermit, Oren was proud to consider him a friend—it was just a shame none of his weapon making skills rubbed off on his carpentry.

  “Alright,” Thomas managed to say as he fought to regain his breath. “The wheel is all yours, just make it quick, I've got someone coming by later to take a look at that claymore and I don’t need you scaring away my business.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be gone before you know it,” the younger one said just as the front door swung open coincidentally.

  In marched two rugged looking men, decked from head to toe in an assortment of various armor, and large shields slung over their backs. They tromped a few steps forward to the counter before the first one slammed his hand down hard on the cracked wooden frame, taking a look around the room.

  “Who's the owner here?” the man demanded, glancing in their direction.

  “That's me,” replied Thomas sternly. “What are you interested in, blades? Bludgeons? Something in-between?”

  The man smirked with a
hearty chuckle, revealing a row of large, gangly teeth between his scruffy beard. “Ha! Sounds like my kinda place. I need an ax. One I can really throw around, ya know? Not one of those flimsy toys I picked up in Hinsdale a couple days ago—didn't last me more than ten minutes.”

  “Yes, sir,” Thomas countered. “I've got something special right over here, forged for an unforgiving man such as yourself. What's the purpose, exploration?”

  “You could say that. I go where the money takes me, and those caverns up the road are rumored to be home to loads of ancient valuables. S'pposed to be an old depot from the second era, buried in rock after a big battle with the Arch Knights. Only problem now is getting in, but that's where you come in.”

  The man again broke out in laughter, with his friend joining in this time. The pair were rather crude, but Oren didn't care. He was already hooked at the mention of the Arch Knights, the Dynasty's legendary warriors who commanded nature's four elements with the wave of a hand, or so the story goes.

  “You don't say?” chimed Thomas, searching through the massive cabinets he had stashed against the farthest wall opposite Oren. “You're not the first ones to come through here for those caverns.”

  “I'm not surprised,” the man continued. “There's a lot of history in these parts for that kind of thing; lots of ancient activity involving the Arch Knights. But the trick is knowing where to look.”

  “Ah, here she is.” After another moment of scrounging around, Thomas finally yanked free a brute of a weapon, essentially sliding it across the floor to the man before handing it off. The man smiled as he heaved it up in both hands with almost little effort.

  “Excellent!” he shouted, clearly pleased with Thomas's offering. “This ought to work nicely,” he continued, slapping a large purse down on the counter as he turned back toward the door. “Enjoy your day gentlemen, it's been a pleasure.”