Elias woke up to a dark sky. It was early in the morning, the usual time he always used to see the sun peek above the distant mountain ranges. Today, the usual pleasant morning sunlight was nowhere to be seen, and the landscape was drenched in the shadowy expanses of the eclipse. The howling winds screeched in the distance. Birds fell silent. The air hung thick with something more than humidity – a weight, a presence, as if the world itself had drawn in a breath.


    He had studied about the Eclipse of Remembrance from books and lectures during his tenure as a student of the Continental Magic Association’s Academy. He has heard the stern warnings of masters, and the whispered fears of commoners, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the reality of it. The winds picked up, blowing past his town like a ghostly apparition, bringing with it fragments of magical energy. Elias could sense the cryptic message hidden in its gales. Spells cast in the past danced in front of his eyes, a clear reminder of his chosen path. His mentor had called it the Aetherial Whispers, one of the many first heralds of the Eclipse.


    A sickly rain began to fall – raindrops that seemed to defy all known physical laws. The liquid gave off a faint glow, and appeared to phase through anything and everything it touched. Hazy droplets sizzled on the tiled roofs of houses in Fallowfield and its cobblestone streets. The sound of raindrops gently pattering on surfaces was oddly calming, despite the absurdity of the Eclipse that Elias knew would arrive soon.


    Then came the distortions.


    The world rippled as if seen through colorful prisms. The world’s ley lines surge in activity as the fabric of reality becomes increasingly distorted. Magical spells twisted, fizzling out into the suffocating air. Elias glanced at the arcane clock – a stoic reminder of the steady passage of time, now frantically spinning to regain its temporal sense. Arcane-powered streetlights flickered and failed, covering the town in a veil of darkness. The city’s protective wards flared up in violent arcs of light, faltering against forces beyond mortal comprehension.


    Elias felt his own body leaden, as if the countless Driftstep spells he had cast were reversing their effects. It felt as if he was walking with iron weights tied around his ankles. The fragmented past of his training in spellcasting manifested in vivid detail, entrancing him in a kaleidoscope of vibrant particles. The Eclipse was in full swing.


    He and his best friend used to race through the streets with Driftstep, laughing as the wind carried them forward. It had felt so weightless then. Elias grinned at the thought, the precious memories magic had given him grounding him in the moment. As Elias reminisced about the fun he had with Driftstep and Tidecall spells back at the Academy, a choked laugh escaped his lips. He could still hear the faculty’s warnings, their voice ringing in the depths of his memory:


    “Magic comes with a cost, no matter how hard it may be to see.”


    But he had never paid them much attention. After all, he had been casting spells for years – and nothing had ever happened. Nothing, at least, that could have matched the weight of their grim caution.


    The concept of debt was a stranger to him, who could cast spells freely without any cost. He often mocked his fellows for being “scaredy cats” who did not call upon this fantastical force of the world, and used all sorts of spells his masters warned about. Magic made his life a dream, and he was simply not thrilled at the thought of attaching price tags on spells.


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    His train of thought was derailed in a heartbeat as blood-curdling screams emanated from the nearby house. Elias’ eyes widened in fear. The house across the street is the residence of Lior, Elias’ best friend, and his family. He rushed across the cobblestone street, the rainfall still rhythmically pattering. As he opened the door to the small cottage, nothing could have prepared him for the sight he was about to witness.


    His best childhood friend and fellow arcane student, Lior, was convulsing.


    “Lior!” Elias lunged forward, grabbing his friend by the shoulders. The boy’s eyes were unfocused, flickering between gold and an inky, abyssal shade of black. His breath came in ragged gasps, his fingers clawing at his own arms as if trying to tear something out of himself. Lior’s parents could do nothing but hold back the tears – and themselves, as the healer was desperately calling upon the Church’s healing magic and curse-dispelling incantations, to no avail. The spell flickered and fizzled out, blooming in a captivating pattern of light and shadow.


    “No, no, you’re fine! We’ll find a way-” Elias’ voice cracked as Lior arched backward, a strangled sound escaping his throat. A shuddering pulse rippled through his body, his skin shifting – darkening, warping. His veins bulged like ink spreading through parchment. The Church’s envoy quickly pushed Elias away from the bed, holding him in a surprisingly tight grip, far away from the bed.


    “E- Elias…” Lior’s eyes met his, pleading. Then, something in them cracked. His eyes were dyed with a hollow void, blacker than the bleakest of colors. He let out a final, distorted breath – and was no longer Lior. The boy’s parents froze in horror, tears streaming down their faces as they come to face the undeniable reality. Lior’s magical debt had been too great to bear. Elias stumbled back, horror clawing up his throat. Before him lies something barely human, its form writhing as if caught between two states of being. A specter of magic overdrawn, cursed by debt that could never be repaid.


    “Th- this can’t be real…” Elias muttered to himself as the horrifying transformation took place, turning Lior into an amalgamation of the arcane, forever lost to the living world. His mind struggled to grapple with reality, and his heart reeled from the thought of Lior bearing his curse.


    Magic had been his playground. A dream. Now it was a nightmare come to life, a debt finally due.


    Elias didn’t remember the spells he had cast. Only that when the Eclipse of Remembrance ended, Lior was gone. He had dissipated into magical energy, fusing with the world’s extensive labyrinth of ley lines.


    And Elias felt intense pain course through his body. It felt as if his humanity was scraped, bit by bit, from the very core of his being. Every single one of his nerve endings was screaming. He felt as if his eyes were being clawed out of his skull as the mind-numbing pain overwhelmed all of his senses. The last thing he could remember was the fear in the eyes of the Church’s healer and the disbelief that painted itself on Lior’s parents’ faces.


    When Elias came back to his senses, even the slightest rays of dawn were all that it took for his eyes to snap shut, violently protesting against performing their duties. His body felt like lead, his head throbbing with relentless pain. Days later, Elias could see magic. Fantastical patterns appeared before his eyes, dancing in a mesmerizing ballet of the arcane. He could see it threading through everything – the living, the inanimate, the air itself. But worse than the magic, he could see the debts – dark, clinging burdens, weighing down every soul around him. Hanging over each person like ominous, unseen weights, the cost of every spell they had ever cast. It was unbearable.


    When the Continental Magic Association came, they did not call him a survivor. They called him a murderer.