VERSE ONE

The Almighty Orbs

Pave The Way

The Moon and The Sun

Night and Day

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The man before him was large and imposing—broad-shouldered, short black hair, sharp eyes, a strong jaw.

Oberon. You are Oberon Aurum. From this day forth, you will be my-

He turns to the woman standing beside him; her visage is uncanny. Eyes too large, pupils too dark, she too was tall, but her frame was much more lithe and elegant. Her long, flowing white hair trails like ribbons behind her as she turns toward the man. The man continues.

Our son. You may call me Adonai or father, or anything you’d like, so long as it is respectful.

The woman kneels in front of the boy.

I am Kallipso, but address me with comfort. There is no need to rush this. We’re just happy you’re here. Our Elio is gonna be so overjoyed to learn he has a younger brother.

The boy stares up at the two and opens his mouth to speak. His speech is in a language neither the man nor the woman could speak, but it’s the only language Oberon knows to communicate in. Understanding the words of this simple tongue was easy; vocalizing them was hard.

Thank you.

The man leans forward.

Your fluency in our tongue will progress as you spend time with us. But for now, start by saying your name. Oberon.

The boy looks at the man, puzzled. Much of what was said today has been hard to decipher, but he caught most of the intent. These are Adonai and Kallipso; they will be caregivers to him, and his name is-

Oberon.

Twelve years have passed. Oberon has been living in the city-state of Chromerus with his adoptive family ever since that fateful day when Adonai brought him and gave him a new beginning. His life before Chromerus is lost to him. Nothing but memories, both suppressed and buried deep within his mind.

Oberon leans over the balcony banister at the Aurum estate; the large home sits alone on a hilltop overlooking the rest of the city. Chromerus is, by all intents, not a very large nation, its government preferring to build tall rather than wide. The two most prominent bureaucratic buildings stand strong in the center of the metropolis. The Watchtower and the Black Keep loom over all other structures; both are symbols of the Chromerus military complex's immense elite status, even amongst other regional powers. What their nation lacks in numbers, they make up for in education, training, and resources, at the disposal of the people’s defenders.

His father was one such individual, a prominent officer working as a field commander for much of his early life, operating out of The Black Keep during vital operations. His mother worked within The Watchtower as an arcane observation officer. The pair met during their time in the service, and for their accolades, they and many others from their generation were given wealth, backing, and housing by the Chromerus government.

Oberon watches as a trio of figures leap from the top of The Watchtower and hover in the air before bolting toward his location. His heightened vision tracks their movements, although with difficulty even dozens of miles away. Two of them are without a doubt his parents, but the third one is-

Oberon

A calm voice echoes across Oberon’s bedchamber. By no means is Oberon a small man; he’s been as tall, if not a little taller, than everyone around his age for years. However, his brother Elio seemed a mountain of a man by comparison, nearly the height of their father at a quarter of the age. Elio strides toward Oberon, his eyes soft, but his unease made known through the minuscule amounts of arcane energy left unregulated, flowing around him.

Oberon smiles and walks to meet his brother. Elio returns the smile, though a look of concern lurks beneath the facade of stoicism. Oberon speaks first to break the tension.

What’s on your mind, Elio? You seem bothered. Does it have something to do with the person accompanying Mother and Father to our home?

Elio glances past toward the open balcony, jaw tightening. He nods once before responding.

There’s a scientific survey taking place in the coming weeks. Mother told me they’re gathering all of the youth from across Chromerian territories…

Oberon cocks his head.

And this bothers you because?

Elio’s eyes meet Oberon’s.

Despite our standing in the government. Despite the protests by our parents-

Oberon puts a hand on Elio’s shoulder to ease his nerves.

We aren’t exempt…

Oberon looks into Elio’s eyes.

Are we?

Elio’s shoulders slump.

I tried to offer myself to keep you out of this, but they are adamant that regardless of origin-

Oberon takes a step back and raises a brow at Elio.

Why would you do that? Anything they put you through, I want to be there. We’re brothers. We shouldn’t do things like this alone.

Elio steps forward, his composure returning, purpose renewed and charging his words with energy and intent.

You don’t understand. I’ve done surveys like this before. Just before you were brought home, they did something similar. The tests are…intrusive. They use alchemical and arcane instruments to test resilience and adaptability when exposed to certain phenomena.

Oberon stands quietly, giving the words time to process, but importantly, giving Elio time to finish his thoughts.

Elio repeatedly clenches and unclenches his fists before finally relaxing his hands.

Shade Elves are born with a certain aptitude for all things arcane. We are more resilient; these tests have a moderate to low mortality rate with us because of our gifts. You…

It was Oberon’s time to be heard. He steps to the side of Elio and summons a longsword in one of his free hands.

I am an Outer. Even if I am not pure-blooded, I am not so weak. And it seems you’ve forgotten that.

Oberon lunges with a piercing strike toward Elio’s chest. Elio pivots and slams the blade down with an open palm, sending a shockwave of arcane energy as a secondary impact to drive the weapon lower.

Swinging his other hand, lightning crackles from finger to finger. Elio swipes his hand like a blade toward Oberon’s neck. It connects, and as it does, Oberon’s form vanishes into dark violet mist. He reappears behind Elio, summoning a halo of three shadowed daggers that charge with violet energy like rockets.

Oberon watches as the faint static field around Elio manifests and expands. The instant before it reaches Oberon, he launches the blades. The static field passes over Oberon, and just before the blades connect, it instantly collapses back inward and solidifies into a barrier around Elio, absorbing much of the impact from the strikes to the point where they come to a full stop and vanish.

Elio spins, leaping back off of one foot and sending a condensed slug of arcane energy shooting toward Oberon like a railgun; electricity supercharging the shot to the point where Oberon has to rely solely on his reflexes and intuition to make up for the gap in their abilities.

With every ounce of focus, speed, and training available to Oberon, he snaps his fingers, sending a ripple of violet energy in a small ring around him. The world within that ring begins to shift in an instant; the slug passes into the area, and as it does, Oberon grasps out a hand toward it; the compressed bead becomes a heavy metal crate, the beam of lightning a jet of flame. The overall surface area is far greater, enough that he can spread the damage if he-

Oberon’s eyes track movement. As he is in the middle of raising his free hand, conjuring a shield from the miasma surrounding him, a blurred figure has come up to him at the edge of his blind spot and low to the ground.

The electricity around Elio dissipates as he decelerates and reaches a palm toward Oberon’s exposed side.

He needs to choose: block the projectile or stop Elio before he does whatever he is about to do. A smile starts to crawl across his face; his eyes brighten with violet energy. Oberon thinks to himself.

I’ll just do both.

He stomps his foot in place of his traditional hand gestures, an improvised and abnormal way of casting his magic, but he needs to prove to his brother that he is strong enough to evolve when the circumstances call for it.

Oberon’s form shifts; the miasma coils around him like fabric. His pulse quickens; his vision goes black. But he can still see, and more importantly, in this state, he can react. He spins past the projectile; he feels muscles tearing. He ducks to meet the ball of static energy forming in Elio’s hand with a mass of coiled violet miasma that wraps around the energy conjured by his brother.

There’s a flash, and the ball of electricity explodes into a cloud of violet butterflies. Oberon feels his heart stop for a brief moment before starting again. His vision starts to return. For 2 seconds, he could only keep up for 2 seconds. Oberon feels his legs give out; he topples over, but Elio catches him. Healing energy washes over his body and eases the pain. Elio chuckles.

That was foolish, but I understand…I was being foolish too.

Oberon regains some strength and staggers to his feet before responding.

We’re brothers. We’re supposed to be fools together. That way, we have someone to rely on when our poor decisions come back to haunt us.

Elio’s head snaps toward the open balcony. For all that happened, Elio doesn’t seem the faintest bit fatigued. If anything, he seems more relaxed having done that impromptu sparring session, albeit still plagued with many thoughts.

Oberon places a hand on Elio’s shoulder and smiles through the faint soreness now spreading across his body.

Look at it this way. It will give Mother and Father peace of mind knowing neither of us will be alone.

Elio looks at Oberon and smiles before gazing back toward the balcony. Three shadows hover just outside. Elio’s face grows stern and focused.

That might be the only solace we find in what’s to come.