Eth-scuse Me?

Finally, after about two minutes of clinging to a metal rail as he walked down the arduous passage, Eth saw a shimmer of light. This has to be something big, right? What normal cellar goes down forty stories? He approached the light, anticipating something mystical. Something legendary. Ethereal, even.

It was just another iron door.

Damn it!

Larger and more secure, the door seemed to leak light from inside, but there was no way in. Baffled and frustrated, Eth, understandably, began whining.

“Now I have to walk back up all those stairs with nothing! Damn it all!” He slammed his fist into the chilly stone wall, vibrating the tunnel and causing something to creak behind him. He turned to see that the door, which he had assumed locked, had cracked open slightly at his aimless punch. “Nevermind, then,” he blurted, taking back his needless complaints. He gripped the wrought iron handle and pulled the door open, giving way to a large chamber.

The chamber, laden with all sorts of royal decoration, was flooded with a warm glow from orbs floating near the ceiling. I’m not certain of the spell, but that’s definitely Esten magic. I’ve seen it before. Where the hell am I for Esten magic to be in use?

Kruost and Ester were rival cities- since the very beginning of civilization in Alphorica, the lands in which all known people called home, Kruost has had a burning hatred for those who resided in Ester. Even from the times of Krus the Valiant, the first man to obtain the power of the meteorites, both factions were warring with each other. It was to the point where, even with there only being three meteorites in all of Alphorica, two of their essences belonged to opposite sides of a conflict spanning about a day’s horse ride.

Eth was reminded of a book he had stolen from a library a long time ago. According to said book, Krus the Valiant was struck by the meteor itself and absorbed its power directly, putting all of the meteorite’s essence into the hands of Kruost’s to-be founder. Another meteorite crashed near the castle grounds of Ester, and so the old king had it ground up into a powder and dissolved in water. The meteorite turned into a sort of ink- the king then diluted the ink into an entire pool of water, birthing the Ester inkwell. All legiriors, or users of Esten magic, took vials of ink from this great pool to use for their many spells. Eth didn’t quite know how the magic worked, but he knew it had to be written and then thrown, based on the depiction in the book. How do you throw writing?

Krus the Valiant’s children had the magic that he did, as did their children. The process continued until a lot of the Kruost population had the magic, though in weaker quantities than Krus himself. Only Kruic people could be voltriors, the term for people with Kruic magic. Voltriors and legiriors had never been allies since their magic itself dawned, likely due to both magics being ethnically bound to two groups that despised each other. That was about the extent of what was printed in the book- Eth knew nothing past that. He also didn’t know why there were any Esten spells cast within the city limits of Kruost.

What legirior could have gotten here anyway? And what’s with all the Estarian decoration? Eth spun around on his toes, taking in the grandeur of a place like this beneath the cracking, icy roads above. It was warm, though that may have been due to the magic of the orbs and not that it was too far down to be affected by the cold. After all, there was a huge permafrost layer under the grassy plains outside the city.

He wondered about the purpose of having such a grandiose chamber so far underground, and connected to a clothing shop, at that. He snooped around a bit before finally finding what the whole chamber was dedicated to- a small glass display box, inside of which were two scarves and a pale glass orb, not unlike the ones above him, though without any glow.

Eth removed the glass covering of the box and laid his fingers on one of the scarves. He slid his hand across its surface, feeling its velvet smoothness on his skin. He found it odd that the scarf, though certainly expensive, was so normal. He expected to grab it and for it to light him on fire, or grant him magical abilities, or to teleport him to somewhere else… but no. He wrapped it around his neck and felt a bit warmer on the inside, but other than that, nothing changed. He inspected the scarf and found a small golden-threaded crest embroidered into the fabric. The crest resembled the crest of the city of Ester, and matched the crest of van Mareaux exactly. He considered taking the scarf off and burning it, but his common sense kicked in and told him that if he were to burn it underground, he’d smoke himself out.

He took the other scarf and examined it, discovering that it had a different crest on its surface. He had no idea what this crest was, though it seemed similar to the crest of Rema, a sprawling spiral shape with curls across its branches. Rema was nowhere near Kruost, though, and he would have to cross all of Uverbarrow and reach the Loch Taimeaux Salt Flats to get there. There would be no feasible way to take the scarf there in his condition, if that was even what he was meant to do. He put it in the pocket of his new parka for safekeeping.

Finally, Eth held the orb in his palms, curious of its purpose. He shook it around a bit out of temptation, knowing that there was nothing inside of it. Surprisingly the orb began to glow a greenish hue, vibrating with energy. He peered at it for a little bit in awe before noticing that his hands were getting just a little bit too warm for comfort. He snappily looked for somewhere to place it down, but it got too hot too quickly, and he dropped it, wincing in pain. It clanked against the hard marble floor and rolled to a halt some three strides away from him. The air around the orb wobbled and waved as if in contact with the sun itself, and the stone underneath the orb started glowing red from the heat. A faint whistling sound began to come from the orb, and Eth instinctively ran behind a pillar in the chamber, sensing that something was about to explode.

It did.

After a monumental boom rattled the earth around him, Eth peeked out from behind the pillar, which was now bejeweled with chunks of glass from the orb. He scanned the room and found a cloud of smoke in the middle, inside of which was a dark figure.

“Damn it, William, I shouldn’t have given you time to hide. Are you here to continue where we left off? Except, maybe without the exploding drinks and the massacre?”

“What?” Eth couldn’t help but blurt aloud. He gasped and shrunk behind the pillar again, but felt the gaze of whatever this thing was fall upon him before he could hide.

“Oh. Who… are you?” No longer sensing animosity, Eth turned around the pillar once again to find that the figure had emerged from the smoke clothed in royal dressings- a gold-encrusted white cloak with a green crest of van Mareaux on its breast. It seemed to be a man, and his eyes glowed a pale shade of green.

“Um… what are you?” Eth hesitantly retorted. Though intentionally sarcastic in his tone, genuine fear made its way into his tenor-pitched voice.

“I am The Ethereal One. I… ahem, was a prophet in King William van Mareaux’s cabinet some 18 years ago. I’m not sure he even has a cabinet anymore… regardless, I don’t know how on earth you summoned me if you aren’t the king, but nice to meet you?” He seemed more confused than Eth was about the whole ordeal.

“Ah. Well, I’m Eth. Ethrial… no last name included. I also don’t know how the hell I summoned you, so we agree on that, at least.”

“Where exactly are we? Are you even aware of that?” The man stroked his short beard and looked around at the chamber he was in. “Still hasn’t changed since last time,” he mumbled.

“This is the basement of a clothing shop in Kruost. Or at least, that’s how I got here. And, side question, what are you? Like, are you a ghost? A spirit? Some deity? What’s the deal?” The Ethereal One seemed unready to answer Eth’s barrage of questions.

“A ghost, I believe. I was killed by your oh-so-perfect king William van Mareaux.” He sneered as he said the name, and Eth laughed at him in spite of the situation.

“This is Kruost, mate. No one thinks the king is a good guy, no matter what he does.”

“Apologies. I was thrown off by your… wait, that scarf! By the meteor’s grace, you’re wearing the King’s Garments! How- ugh, what a headache… I guess I have to explain a lot to you, then. Not now, though. There are other matters that take priority.”

Eth sat in silent agony, dealing with a problem he’d never faced before. He worked up the courage to ask the question…

“Your name is way too long. Can I call you something shorter?”

The Ethereal One, who’s name was, in fact, tedious to say, scratched his chin, pondering the question. “Well… I would, on normal occasion, go by Eth, but I imagine that presents a problem to you?” Solemnly Eth nodded. Of course the easiest solution has to be invalidated by a name I made up when I was a kid. “I had a name before my coronation- Shielger. Hans Shielger. Does that work?”

“Indeed it does, Shielger. Now, if you don’t mind explaining why you freaked out about me wearing a scarf…?” Eth’s curiosity poured out of every orifice of his body. It was clear to The Ethereal One, recently dubbed ‘Shielger’, that this kid wasn’t going to be satiated with a surface-level answer. Eth watched as his already green eyes glowed even brighter in response to his question.

“At what depth dost thou desire I go? For hours upon hours can time flow. And with those hours, on sunset scarlet, the search begins for those with the garment.” Shielger fell to the ground, his ghostly body not making any noise even as his frame slammed against the floor.

“Are you alright? That seemed painful.”

“As painful as having your skull crushed? No.” Shielger was back to the person Eth had known before, which was comforting and off-putting at the same time. “That was a shitty prophecy- oh, do mind my language. I’m sorry, kid.” Kid? I’m not a kid!

“Who are you calling a kid? I’m eighteen, at least. I think.” Shielger completely ignored Eth’s rambling.

“That prophecy just asked how in depth you want me to go in my description of your situation. We could be here for hours. And apparently there’s someone after you? I’m not entirely clear on what that last line meant. It’s your choice, though.”

Eth thought upon how much he’d already questioned this poor ghost. It wouldn’t be right to make him talk more. Plus, with people on his tail he himself should probably turn tail.

But curiosity killed the cat, as they say, and satisfaction brought it back.

“Yeah. Tell me everything.”