No Way Back or Forward

Entering into his academic career, Erebos had a few concerns as to his ability in some classes. He wasn't too worried about all of them, for his first two classes concerning theory and history were largely review for him. The issues arose when he considered his second two classes, concerning application and exercise of artificery.

Whoever made the decision to put him in those classes obviously thought he was capable, but Erebos couldn't forget the peculiarity he displayed during the exam's third phase. Sure, he made a functioning artifice, but was it really something that could be held equivalent to the other successes? He did make the paper exhibit the same qualities as the others, but if no one else could see the inscription he made, how could that even be graded in class? How could he seek help with or troubleshoot a nonfunctioning inscription, no matter how experienced the helper was? These were all serious concerns to Erebos, but they had all been swept away from view with the excitement of his acceptance.

Questions such as these swirled in his head before his first time attending his third and fourth period classes. His fears proved to be somewhat unfounded for his third class, which was mainly demonstrations by the professors showing technique and vocabulary. As with his first two classes, he was decently confident in the vocabulary and knowledge aspects and did exceptionally with the handwriting they practiced. But when his fourth period class came around, he had to contend with application.

Although he hoped that he would suddenly become normal and make a regular inscription like any other, his first attempts in class proved to be the same way as the third phase. At first nobody noticed any difference with his artifices, with them being pretty basic physical property alterations of common objects. Using a wand issued to him by the school, he created basic inscriptions the same way as before, albeit with a much wider variety of both material and function. When the professor confirmed the students’ ability, he could check with a mere look, leaving finer details like handwriting to the class before.

Erebos slipped through the first few days without any trouble, accruing a small collection of functional artifices. If one were to inspect them more carefully, one would notice that they didn’t decay like other artifices once they ran out of innate flux in their inscription and worked indefinitely, but no one had to know those details. He was content with covering up the peculiarities of his inscriptions as long as they fulfilled the requirements of the class, preferring to leave the research into his abnormality when he had a larger base in artificery itself.

He didn’t want to leave it that way, but for the time being he had no way to take another course. No references or sources that he could find in the academy library covered such an issue, and his diffidence caused him to keep it to himself rather than seek a professor’s aid. Honestly, Rumina had probably written up the peculiarity in her exam report for him, but as long as no staff came to question him, he’d leave it be.

At least, he would have preferred it that way if it wasn’t for a certain fourth period class in his third week of education. They had gone over countless ways to change an object’s physical properties, but until then, they hadn’t dabbled in changing its overall appearance. This period, however, they were tasked with altering the color of a small, homogenous rectangle. When the professor passed out the materials and gave the instructions, Erebos was lucky that nobody noticed his expression flash to that of complete horror.

He didn’t like to explain his condition to any person, let alone the professor of his class. But he didn’t really see a way around it, besides somehow pulling off the inscription without any help. Glancing around the other students, Erebos caught that most of them were writing down a simple command and a color after it. He couldn’t tell who succeeded or failed besides from their reactions, but they all seemed to be doing the same thing, so Erebos gave it a shot himself.

He wrote nothing more than a few words, “Show Blue.” You would usually focus your mind on what the inscription would do to the material, but all he could do was hope that something at all occurred.

Leaning back from his finished artifice, he couldn’t notice a change. It appeared as the same thin rectangular prism to Erebos, but the student next to him lost focus on his own artifice and leaned in to Erebos’.

Student: “How’d you do that, I don’t think I’ve ever seen something more blue before!”

Not quite sure how more or less blue would manifest itself, Erebos was nonetheless relieved that his inscription seemed to work. He was less enthused with the attention it seemed to attract, with the one boy’s initial interest spreading to those around him. Before long the professor took notice, and even he went over and held Erebos’ attempt as an example up to the class.

Professor: “Now, this is an exquisite example! See how the edges themselves disappear, appearing as a seamless blue no matter which way it turns! This is a phenomenal piece, Afkoran!”

Turning and inspecting it in his fingers, he only offered praise to Erebos until he did a double take after looking it all over.

Professor: “My, there isn’t an inscription visible on it! Could you already be capable of hiding your inscriptions, but I wouldn’t be too surprised after seeing this!”

Despite the unwanted attention, the situation seemed to resolve itself with the professor coming to his own conclusion. Erebos began to sigh in relief, up until the point that the professor laid another rectangle in front of him.

Professor: “I’d like a demonstration myself, if you don’t mind.”

Erebos received his enthusiastic smile with a slight grimace, his anxiety exploding to new heights. He didn’t see a way out of the situation without making another artifice, exposing his peculiar technique to the onlookers. Blinking a few times and bracing his nerves, he brought the wand to the rectangle and began writing.

The professor initially had a confused expression while he must have not seen anything being written, but before long, Erebos finished the phrase, ending it with red instead of blue. As expected, there was still no change for him, but the professor seemed both ecstatic and dumbfounded.

Professor: “I-I see, er-well, I don’t actually…”

Taking the artifice into his hands once again, the professor brushed the inscription with his fingers as if searching for the presence of something.

Professor: “W-well, Afkoran, good performance for today! If you don’t mind, c-could I keep one of these for my personal study…? It’s perfectly all right, I just wouldn’t want to pass up an opportunity to examine something unique from a student, would I…?”

Stuttering through his request, the professor made it clear that this was an occurrence never seen by him. If giving up the artifice was all it took to ward off the professor, Erebos was willing to make that small sacrifice. There would probably be some undesirable attention if he refused, so he gave the professor a curt nod with an awkward smile.

In retrospect, if that was the worst embarrassment Erebos had to face because of his abnormality, he could bear that burden. The last thing he wanted was to become the object of rumors and speculation, so the best course of action would probably be to cooperate with and satiate any professors who took special interest in him.

Thus, Erebos’ daily routine settled into place. Out of the two weeks every month, six of eight days were instruction while the weekend was reserved for personal study and rest. The academic year started in the first month, Sapros, and lasted until the fourteenth, Eliga. As long as Erebos made it throughout the year without any major disruptions, his worst fears of failing to function as even a basic artificer would be dispelled.

To his constant surprise, the year seemed to be progressing that way. There wasn’t an inscription he couldn't make, and there wasn’t any knowledge he couldn’t master. History, theory, and even application, Erebos had no trouble at all with any, even after his peculiarities interfered with the process.

Everyone was actually going so well that he had plenty of free time on the weekends to share with his friends. Erebos, Jiron, and Vanov became a tightly-knit group, with most of their free time spent exploring the academy and city while chatting and joking about their daily happenings.

Of course, not everything could be going Erebos’ way, for the rumors he tried to suppress spread regardless of his efforts. He had honestly expected this, for no matter how much he tried to keep discretion, other students and professors would always notice and hear about his strange and unique artifices. But there didn’t seem to be any consequences for this, and he figured that for as long as it didn’t pose any issues to his education and personal life, he wouldn’t worry himself over something he couldn’t solve.

***

“Have you heard? Apparently Editha has an army they’ve kept hidden for years…”

“Does anyone have anything to fight against them with? What if they decide to use it…?”

Whispers were exchanged in the halls, caught by Erebos as he, Jiron, and Vanov walked through the West Wing towards the central hall. Ascending a spiral staircase onto the second floor, they passed through the hall and the Northwest Wing, exiting out onto an elevated walkway jutting from the left side of the wing. They arrived at an enclosed courtyard open to the sky, with tiered seating lining the walls like an outside theater. It was normally an outdoor classroom, but it was open for recreation during the weekend.

The group of three sat on the lowest row of seats, slumping back and sighing. The academic year was reaching its climax, with final exams just around the corner. If they didn’t have enough to stress about already, news was spreading about the tense relations between Editha and the Capital. The hostage situation with the Capital artificers still hadn’t been resolved after nearly a year, with no resolution in sight. To make matters worse, the Edithino government was rumored to be training a dedicated fighting force, something larger than the world had ever seen or prepared for. An ancient, binding treaty between the nations had declared that no armies could be fielded, but the other three nations hadn’t done anything to stop them.

But in the same vein as the rumors about himself, there wasn’t much use in Erebos worrying himself about something outside of his control. For the time being, no one was in immediate danger, so the year continued as planned.

Jiron: “It seems like that army rumor is the only thing anyone is talking about these days. Eh, better than them gossiping about you though, huh?”

Nudging Erebos slightly, Jiron brought up the fact that the latest rumors were covering up some of the ones about himself.

Vanov: “Not entirely, though. I overheard someone saying that you could duel the headmaster and win the other day.”

Erebos: “Ugh, maybe Editha should make a move and end all those rumors already.”

Vanov: “Don’t joke about that, especially because that might very well happen.”

Erebos grumbled in response, but it's not like Vanov was entirely wrong. He certainly believed in the possibility more than others, so he was sensitive about brushing it off as a passing issue.

Jiron: “Hey, they could be worse though. A friend in my history class told me that they saw Vanov trip on his own cape, so at least y-UGH!”

Vanov stood suddenly and gave Jiron a shove, sputtering about how not everyone could be as tall as him and that they issued him a cape that was too long. Jiron was being over dramatic and feigning a serious fall in slow motion, which elicited a chuckle from Erebos.

Vanov: “So, did you bring your disc, Erebos?”

Moving on to the reason they had come to the outdoor classroom, Vanov mentioned the disc Erebos had concealed under his coat. He removed it carefully and unwrapped the paper protecting it, exposing the smooth, round rock crystal underneath.

Vanov: “What’s wrong with it? Do you already have something inscribed on it?”

Vanov obviously couldn’t see the inscription Erebos had already made, so he just nodded his head and read out what he had written. The final assignment the first years received in their Artificial Application class was to produce one of the most difficult forms of the first tier of artificery, a light. Bridging the gap between the first and second tiers, the artifice functioned by taking in flux and converting the energy into a brighter, but less usable form. By converting it into a less usable form, a larger amount of brighter light could be produced at the expense of its potency. Erebos had a solid grasp of its theory, but his attempts all ended in failure.

Vanov: “Well, that sounds like it should work. It's not too different from mine, after all.”

Taking out and examining his own disc, Vanov held their discs next to each other, and even Erebos could see that the writing itself was very similar. As far as Vanov’s ability went, he was probably among the most capable in his year, so he trusted his judgement.

Jiron: “I know that even you don’t get why your inscriptions are the way they are, but haven’t they all worked until now? What’s different about this one?”

That was a valid question from Jiron. If it came down to his inability to imagine the effects of creating a light, why did his color-changing inscriptions work flawlessly? Taking the disc back from Vanov and holding it above his head, Erebos compared the edges of the artifice and the flare of the tower’s cap high above them against the sky.

He couldn’t read the inscription from this distance, but the bevel of the tower, too bright to look at for others, showed its inscription readily. Between the surface of that ring and the sky itself, Erebos could do little to tell it apart. Bringing his gaze back down, he slumped his head and sighed deeply.

Jiron: “Don’t give up already, there’s still plenty we could try.”

Erebos lifted his head back up, tilting it slightly as to enquire for what else could be done. Jiron responded by pointing towards the edge of the courtyard closer to the Northwest Wing, its only unique feature being a long metal panel bearing dials and small rods of rock crystal. Emerging from the ground, the panel was one of many that tapped into a massive reserve of flux stored within the academy. For the higher level classes, which this courtyard usually held, students could use flux rather quickly and sometimes had to restore their energy faster than they could naturally.

Most first-years never had a reason to use one, but they technically weren’t disallowed to. Even then, Erebos wasn’t quite sure what Jiron wanted him to do with it.

Jiron: “Since your color-changing artifices were way more powerful, maybe your light-making ones will be too? What if they just need some extra charge that they can’t get naturally?”

While that sounded silly to Erebos, he couldn’t completely discount the notion. Where inscriptions on regular materials would decay after expending the flux they were initially imbued with, inscriptions on rock crystal lasted indefinitely, only needing to be charged. The other students’ lights, according to Vanov, would only last a moment before they needed to be exposed to starlight or feed directly from another source. Making a rock crystal into a battery, or one that could store energy, was beyond their current capabilities, so they had to rely on the innate capacity of the inscription itself.

It was possible, however unlikely, that Erebos’ inscription needed more flux than the others to function properly. Since the examination of his flux output yielded no results, it was possible that he couldn’t physically imbue the inscription with enough flux for others to see a change.

Figuring that he might as well try, Erebos stood up and approached the panel. The others followed behind him, curious to see if Jiron’s idea would work, and watched as Erebos tightened his gloves. They weren’t technically part of the uniform, but after demonstrating his uncanny ability to destroy others’ artifices with a single touch, no professor took issue with his clothing choice. He had to take one off to use his wand, which he had already destroyed the inscription of, but he was reminded of the testers he ruined during his exam and took extra precautions.

After making sure no skin could contact either the disc or the panel, Erebos slowly touched the artifice to one of the rods.

Jiron: “Damn, I thought it’d work…”

Jiron expressed disappointment at the lack of results, but for Erebos, something entirely unexpected happened. Rather than not reacting whatsoever, which would indicate both a success or failure to him, the inscription fizzled away in the same manner as when he would touch someone else's.

Erebos: “No, it broke it in the same way I do…”

Hearing that quiet mutter, Jiron and Vanov both tilted their heads in confusion. Vanov then took the disc out of his hands, started writing his own inscription, and after a few minutes presented a new artifice to Erebos.

Vanov: “It lit up briefly, so try touching that one to the panel. If the station is working correctly, the artifice should only glow brighter.”

Erebos followed the instruction and touched the disc to the same rod. Unlike last time, the inscription stayed in place. Jiron and Vanov shielded their eyes, which meant that the light was definitely working and shining brighter than they had probably expected.

Jiron: “Ow, yeah, that’s definitely working.”

Vanov: “Huh, maybe try this.”

After Erebos removed the disc from the rod and let Vanov take it back, he told Erebos to take off a glove and for Jiron to look away. He then touched the disc to the panel once more, but this time held it there himself.

Vanov: “All right, now you try and touch the light at the same time. I want to see what happens then, and maybe we could figure out how flux moves between you and the artifice.”

Not entirely following his train of thought, Erebos assumed that Vanov knew what he was talking about and moved to do so. Touching the artifice with an uncovered hand, Erebos considered Vanov’s idea for a moment.

Although he was present at the same exam, Vanov hadn’t been told the details of Erebos’ physical. That meant he didn’t know that Erebos could drain and destroy a tester in a moment, which operated in fundamentally the same way. He couldn’t fault Vanov for not knowing something he hadn’t been told, but even Erebos wasn’t sure that anything would go wrong if there was an artifice between him and the flux source. If he gave it a little more thought instead of immediately following Vanov’s instructions, Erebos might have reconsidered his actions, but it was too late to go back after he felt a prickle in his fingertips.

That prickle grew into a burn, and as if firing through every nerve of his body, an intense and searing pain crackled across his entire body. Like after receiving a serious wound, the pain had a brief delay before he felt the extent of the damage. Every particle of his being felt like it was burned away, spreading out from his arm to the rest of his body. Before he could pull his arm back, his legs gave out underneath him and he collapsed flat on his back, unable to cushion the fall with his arms.

Staring up at the sky with tears streaming down his cheeks, he felt close to fainting. As if following the original path of the burn, a cool sensation spread out from his arm and replaced the intense pain. But as that feeling settled over him entirely, another prickle spread out over every inch of his body exposed to the air and his fluxcloth clothing.

A second round of searing pain coursed through his body, but instead of originating in his arm, it pierced through his skin itself. He hadn’t even recovered from the first wave when the second plunged him into new depths of agony, making the edges in his vision fade into obscurity. Grasping at final moments of distinctness, Erebos could only make out two faces looking back into his, mouths open in cries and eyes wide in terror. But rather than only to him, they seemed to be reacting to a tremor and a sight out of view.

***

A void of nothingness encapsulates the world. Light and darkness bear no meaning in the abyss, with the only certainty being frighteningly absent. Not a single line broke the sea of gray.

Gray? What was gray? But more importantly, what was this, that which certainly wasn’t gray? If what he saw normally was supposed to be gray, then this definitely wasn’t gray.

He tried to shut his eyes, but he had no eyelids to shut. He tried to cover his eyes with his hands, but he had no hands with which to cover. Staring into the not-grayness, he desperately tried to look away from the unfamiliar sight. It burned to look at, in the same way others said that looking at light burned.

Was this light? Is that what bored into his brain through his incorporeal eyes?

He could be content with calling this light. He would have been content, if it wasn’t for a voice that seemed to echo from the not-grayness itself.

“This is nothing.”