《In This World》


 Chapter 1, Image Of A Woman

    Streetlights bend and danced in the daylight hours as I ran below them, hurrying past their bright lights toward home. Vibrant greens bleeding into the grays of the paved streets, I took my bouncing steps with great purpose -- I was expected to arrive soon! Alone and blissful was I beneath the canopy of summer, joyous from cheek to cheek after a great and tumultuous journey through my childhood miljoo glistening with unexpected and mysterious occurrences. I had made friends and acquaintances, had defeated foes many and wild with them, had triumphed over adversaries fantastic and weird! Past the old sports field I strolled, past the house of my childhood friend I pranced and finally there it was, home. Just as it always had been, the row house I grew up in and the door that was never locked. And there she was, beautiful as always. Long brown locks flowing, a smile to capture the hearts of men, those hazel eyes I had longed for¡­ my childhood crush, Vera. I rushed up to her and embraced her in a hug, and she took me in wholly and completely. Accepted me as I was, held me without a hint of condemnation in her body or mind. I felt like I was enough. I was enough in that moment, truly happy and warm to the core of my soul and it hurt so good. Grasped my heart and I felt it being compressed into a fizzing center of inner salvation. I was happier than I had ever been. Like a salty waterfall, I could feel tears of utter joy beginning to pour out, and it hit me. ¡°Please,¡± I begged, ¡°just another moment, a second at least. Not now, give me time! I can¡¯t go back! Leave me here, please¡­ I don¡¯t want to wake up¡­ ever --¡±


    Oh how fast can the tears of joy turn into sorrow, how quickly the grasp of love become that of anxiety¡¯s. The dream faded and once again I was left crying on my bed, hugging an empty bottle of cheap liquor.


    For at least an hour I kept the pain going, relished it. Went through every moment of my sad existence, all the failures and mockery and missed opportunities. All the laughs, all the stares¡­ if I would have justs and what-ifs, culminating to ruminations why have I not yet ended it all, released the closest to me of this burden. Why indeed? Oh yeah, because I deserve this, every last bit of it, was always the answer.


    An insatiable need to smoke hit me and propelled me out of bed, the only thing that could get me up and clothed. I rolled up a cigarette, poured me a glass of water and opened the balcony door somewhat relaxed that all the others living in the same student apartment had either left already to attend their classes or were hiding in their rooms. For the half a year I had been living with the three of them I had never really talked to them, or attended any classes for that matter. I tried for the first few weeks of university to be a good student but couldn¡¯t really find a reason to go. It wasn¡¯t for me, or anything else really. Games and books and everything I once held dear had lost their meaning. Tobacco was really the only thing I lived for when awake, my only friend and light, and if not for smoking¡­


    Smoking and dreaming, really. In the daytime hours I was always lost in my own inner world characterized by suffering and self-hatred in all its forms, but when asleep a whole new world opened to me. In those bursts of unconsciousness do something not otherwise possible for myself -- let myself feel positive emotions. In wake I had my seconds of positivity, but they did not last. I was not worthy of them and suppressed them immediately I catched myself in the act of being contempt with life, but when asleep I did not have that option.


    After smoking my sixth or seventh cigarette lost in one of my usual daydreams of being a disgusting human being worthy of no love and especially physical connection, a pet peeve of mine, I retreated into my room and collapsed back onto my dirty bed sheets. I hadn¡¯t managed to take a shower in a week at least, or do the laundry or brush my teeth. Those were not of important or a priority, but the smells were beginning to get at me.


    This time the wallowing in self-loathing got stopped in its tracks by my phone beeping, an unusual occurrence to say the least. Maybe someone needed me for something, or just wanted to chat? For the few minutes I tried to muster the strength to get up I felt a bit hopeful. Perhaps I wasn¡¯t altogether abandoned and forgotten? I was.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    I knew it even before confirming that it was only an email from some company trying to promote their newest widget, it always was, or if not that then a mass-message from the university to inform about this or that. The false hope was nice nonetheless, and even more satisfying was the morbid confirmation that I truly had no one that cared for me. Cultivating and finding new ways to feel awful had become a hobby and an art onto itself.


    Vera¡­ Why couldn¡¯t I just be sleep all the time, with her or anyone, anything else but this! Some wonderful world with magic and potential an everything else than this mundane, hopeless world!


    My neck began to bleed from all the clawing, bringing me away from the pointless fantasy. If I want to get away so bad I really should just end it finally¡­ so I made the choice. This was the day and now was the moment.


    With a newfound vigor I rolled my last cigarette, left the apartment for the last time and began to climb the stairs all the way up to the roof of the nine-story building. As always, the heavy door to the roof had been left unlocked. I walked to the edge and looked down, something I had done countless of times before. This time the cold asphalt didn¡¯t look as uninviting and the idea of someone finding me splattered on it and having to bear the burden didn¡¯t seem as bad.


    This is it, I thought as I lit my last cigarette, this is it¡­


    ¡°Thinking about jumping again, I see. This is the day, right, Jay?¡± Startled, I turned around and saw a figure draped in a cloak that a Victorian nobleman would have been proud to be dressed in walking towards me, smiling from beneath its hood. ¡°Do not worry, you still have time to decide. Smoke in peace, but before you finish you really do need to make that decision.¡±


    In silence I stared at the figure. Something was seriously off, but regardless I did not feel at all ill at ease. It was like I had always known this figure, and it me.


    ¡°What decision,¡± I asked, oddly interested and drawn in.


    ¡°Whether to jump or not,¡± it said. ¡°You came here to end it all, to seek peace, and there it is! Down there, and you only need to take one more step and this everything will be over --¡±


    ¡°Is there really an other option then,¡± I said, and to my surprise, laughed.


    ¡°Oh there is,¡± it said with a gleeful smile. ¡°Dreams. Hopes. Aspirations. Vera. Wouldn¡¯t you want a Vera?¡±


    ¡°...¡±


    ¡°Potential, Jay, a new beginning. Your history deleted, all of it. I know you would like that, Jay. All you have ever asked for, right? Those last two breathfuls, all the time you are given to decide.¡±


    In and out.


    ¡°One.¡±


    In and out, the cigarette flew away with the wind.


    ¡°So how is it, Jay?¡±


    ¡°Why not,¡± I said after a hearty sigh, ¡°why not live another day for now.¡±


    I still had no idea what was happening, but whatever it was had to be something better than everything before, or at least something drastically different. I took a wobbly step away from the edge and looked up at the figure and gasped. Before I knew it I was plummeting downwards, pushed by the figure. I tried to grasp at its cape but to no avail. This was it, just as I thought that I might be able to change things I will meet my death. The ground greeted me with open arms as I closed my eyes, embraced my faith and -- wait, I¡¯m still alive?!


    Shocked, heaving and panting, I opened my eyes and saw a massive, bustling, circular metropolis of weird towers and fantastic architecture spanning for tens of miles with huge medieval gates, thick walls, different and distinct districts. A true work of art right out of high-fantasy novels or movies -- and it was right in front of me just down the grassy hill I lay on, a road next to me leading to the city. Not even in my dreams did I hope to encounter something like this, but yet, there it was. But was I dreaming? Did I go to hell or heaven or what? Whatever the case may have been, a dream or not, dead or alive, for the longest of times I felt like I was truly alive, although unexpectedly sore.

 Chapter 2, Image Of A Woman

    Trees! Even the trees around me exuded an exciting mystery. The grass is not just grass, flowers not just flowers. As I stood up and took everything in that was around me, even the smallest of things made me giddy. I smiled, smiled so much it hurt.


    A thing that looked like a lily, smelled like a lily was no longer such but completely new. Colors vibrant and weird leaped out like in a dream, the green of leaves being a bit different than for my whole life, smells strange and fresh infested me and I let them, and although I saw no animals skipping around I was certain that they would emanate a similar feeling of wonder. Summer, this had to be it, the way others had always pictured it. Just better. More.


    What really grabbed me though was the city just a mile or two in front of me. It spoke to me, called me to explore, take a journey through its wide and narrow streets full of people from a whole new world. For the first time of my life the idea of people did not bring me anxiety or fear, but excitement for what wonders they could offer, and if the figure truly brought me to a world I wanted, magic and other mysterious forces were sure to show up. Maybe I could be someone! Respected by my peers and held in a high regard because of my amazing talents and knowledge! Even the thought was enough to send shivers down my spine.


    That city¡­ it had to be it. Carriage after another, drawn by horses, slowly drove past me towards it. All the weird looks and words I did not pay attention bothered me not, I had other plans. Every bone of my body yearned me to scuttle forward, seek out a new path to myself in this new and wondrous world. How many minutes or hours I just stood still and took everything in I had no idea, but it did not matter to me, time was irrelevant, but as irrelevant as it may have been, I needed to go. Go to that city that looked like a world onto itself, a microcosmos of chance and possibility --  a new beginning devoid of my miserable and sordid past.


    So I began, full of vigor and might, to walk along the paved road to Eden, kicking pebbles to the wayside grass as I went whistling under the bright blue sky. What was all of this or why, I truly did not care to know the answer, what was around me was enough no matter what. Paradise was here and now, just a mile ahead and all around of me.


    The walls of the city must have been at least forty-feet tall and from up close, they seemed daunting and impenetrable. Huge slabs of stone packed on top of others, glued together with gravity and skillful masonry, an imposing scene for anyone seeing it for the first time for sure, not to speak of the portcullis. Walking behind a caravan, all of the travelling wagons had slowed down when approaching the gate, I gawked at amazement of a handful of soldiers dressed in light armor process each oncoming carriage. The whole scene looked like right out of a generic fantasy flick.


    One after the other people got through the check-up and the line moved on. Onwards I went, under the portcullis, and then -- bam! -- someone grabbed me by my shoulders and pushed me aside. Startled, I looked beside me and saw a bearded man wearing a helmet, one of the soldiers, saying something intelligible to me as he angrily waved his hand.


    ¡°I¡­ no! I¡¯m not dangerous or, or a¡­ I need to go in,¡± I tried to explain in panic but it seemed to only make the matter worse. My hands were grabbed by another soldier, almost pulling me onto the ground as he began to put shackles on me, yanking me from side to side effortlessly. ¡°This is not how it goes! Let me go!¡±


    Pinning me into the ground, the soldier behind me pushed his knee on my neck and it hurt like hell. My chin racking on the gravel, I could hear someone else running at me, laughing. Heated chit chat bounced back and forth with the new arrival. After a while, the soldier released me from the pinch and a familiar figure took my arm and hurried me away. It was the man travelling in front of me, patting me on the back and smiling as he led me inside of his lavish, well-decorated carriage.


    I tried to express my thankfulness to this mustachioed saver wearing a flamboyant feathered hat and flowy silken robe with gold and silver woven into it, but as soon as he sat me down his smile vanished and grinning he offered me flagon. I was going for a handshake but did not mind the water, and who was I to argue against my benefactor. Soon after he left the carriage, making sure with hand gestures that I was to sit down and rest.


    The language¡­ I had to learn it as soon as possible. Things could have gone much worse at the border, I really had not taken anything into consideration, being too reckless and overwhelmed. If not for the kindly benefactor my journey might have been over already, but no, as luck would have it I carried on. This new and wonderful world really was for me! I really need to find that figure who pushed me into here and thank him.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    Through a window on the carriage I watched and marveled the view of the city. Shops, shops and shops! Jewelry boutiques displaying their beautiful gemmed masterpieces, forges selling weapons and armor of strange metals and otherwise, fabulous clothiers flaunting with marvelous fabrics and intricate designs, food stalls with wild fruits and weird vegetables, but amongst these were the real heavy hitters that got my blood boiling with excitement -- potion breweries stacked with otherworldly seeming liquids and shops selling magical artifacts. Those two seemed rare as I only saw one of each, guarded unlike the others and magnificently decorated from outside to inside. They were nothing like the rest, and I even witnessed a shopkeep of the magical store casting something to make a book float. Magic!


    What was even more wonderful than the shops were the people of Eden. Dwarves and halflings roamed the streets, although rare, and even from time to time an elven gentleman or a lady was visible from the carriage. This world had everything! Rag-tag parties of adventurers coming out of taverns, priests and clerics preaching on the streets and collecting alms for their different churches and gods, and in the center of the city a mystical tower circulated by dancing lights barely visible in the daylight. Not to speak of the Veras.


    Beautiful women littered the streets, many looking in my direction what seemed to be in awe, some even waving to me before carrying on what they were doing. At one point a well-clad, petite elven lady with the cutest of faces stopped our carriage and after having a chat with my benefactor came by the window and brushed my hand whilst blowing a kiss toward me. I could not but stare at her behind as she walked away, seductively swaying her delicate hips in a skin-tight dress. She touched me! A potential Vera for sure who ever she was.


    Who knew paradise was a fantasy world with medieval architecture, magic and mystery, and a host of different races of humanoids! The kindly benefactor offered me exquisit red wine and amazing dried fruits as we ventured further into the city, trying his best to have a conversation with me, but all I understood was the pointing. ¡°Eat this,¡± he gestured, ¡°drink that,¡± and I did, fully embracing everything the world had to offer.


    We finally stopped close to the central tower and I got extremely excited of what was to come next. Perhaps a banquet for the newcomer? A comprehensive tour of the marvelous city? Exploring the magic of the world? Whatever Bhalil, as he revealed himself to be called by pointing at himself and repeating the word, had planned was sure to be special. He had already done so much for me, more than anyone ever in my life, so much so that I could not help but feel blessed by our meeting.


    Pouring my goblet full of wine again, Bhalil closed the curtains of the carriage and tapped on the bench I was sitting on. With a smile, he gestured me to drink up and hopped out. I complied, at last getting a bit woozy from all of the drinking. I must have drunk at least a bottle of the stuff Bhalil was pouring for me, our trip together lasting at most an hour and a half.


    In my own world, I must have not been out as much in years. The only time I left home was to go by tobacco or alcohol, sometimes food as well. Those times the outside world seemed colorless, drab and dull, dangerous even. To my amazement, I hadn¡¯t felt a drop of anxiety yet, not including the incident with the gatekeepers. Usually I was mortified with people and their inevitable judgements of me, but not now, and it felt great. I couldn¡¯t feel any hostility coming from anyone, all the looks I was given were either neutral or positive, all the laughs with me, not at me. I hadn¡¯t even craved a smoke for the whole time being here!


    Bhalil took his time and I patiently waited, thinking what I was to become in this new world, what steps to take next. The baseline was certain, I wanted to learn the language, to learn magic and everything fantastical, and become a true hero with unimaginable powers; find love and be loved by a Vera, hold her dear to me and shower her with affection, and be her savior and companion -- preferrably that Vera would be like that thin, petite elven woman; and garner respect and admiration of the world and my peers. That was to be my path, my hero¡¯s journey, the only uncertainty was how and the specifics.


    The door to the carriage opened up and I gulped down my wine and extended my hand to ask for a refill. Did Bhalil buy a new pair of gloves?


    Ripped out of the carriage, thrown onto the ground, gagged and cuffed, and surrounded by armed men pointing swords at me, loud yelling commenced. Shocked and head ringing from the impact the men, dressed like the soldiers from before, lifted me up from each side and dragged me to the feet of a scarred, bald figure gritting his teeth in rage and loathing. He spat on me and screamed and shouted and yelled and kicked me in the head. Again, and again, and again until my tear and blood mixed into a steady stream, teeth scattered on the ground and¡­

 Chapter 3, Path

    ¡­ forgotten and abandoned, left rot in a cell like the worthless, unloved bastard I am. Why? It didn¡¯t matter. I deserved this. Deserved the gray stones, cold bars, stale bread, and regular beatings and shoutings at. All dreams turned nightmares. All the rats and pain, emptiness of the stomach and hoarse throat. All hair dropped out, teeth too frail to eat, I deserved it all.


    Bhalil didn¡¯t laugh with me, no, he mocked me with every grin and cackle. The elf despised me, played me like the pitiable critter I am. There¡¯s no Vera for me, of course there isn¡¯t. How stupid I could have been to even consider it. This little pathetic me worthy of love and friendship? How foolish of me, naive, to even consider it as a possibility. No, these days, months I¡¯ve been here under Eden is where I justly belong. To blame anyone but me, the city, Bhalil or the figure who pushed me, would have been absurd. This is all my own doing.


    Huddled in a corner, anxious to the core of what was to come, I stared at the same crack on the stone as I always did, steps echoing throughout the dungeon. The time had come again, I knew it, as no prisoner had any strength to walk around on their own, the few that were still alive, and if they did, the shackles around our legs made sure not for long.


    ¡°You again,¡± I mumbled to myself after hearing the familiar heavy breathing coming from behind the bars. There were two torturers that rotated, the obese one with breathing problems being very officious and inventive.


    Click went the lock and creaking like a burning pig the cell door opened. Kick here and a punch there, a rib broken or maybe it was already. After the tenth time the physical pain becomes irrelevant. Not satisfied with my unresponsiveness, the fat jailor brought something new with him usually, last time my left thumb bearing the brunt of his rage.


    Grabbed by the throat and pulled as far as my chains allowed, the jailor growled with a grimace, his orcen tusks almost piercing my lower jaw. I could barely breathe from his grip and rotten breath. This time he didn¡¯t have any tools with him, a change to the usual pattern as he really seemed to enjoy his equipment. His grottal laughter got louder and louder, and at last I saw his new plan. Saw it very well as his long, cracked and dirty fingernails were getting closer and closer to my eyes.


    I tried to fight back, fear taking over and tears flowing free, every inch of me shaking violently. It was futile. As fast as the fear overtook me, it vanished. As the man¡¯s nails scraped away my eyelid, it hit me -- I had nothing to be afraid of. If I died, well, that was it, something I decided to bring upon myself once before, and then again if I lived, what would I do with my sight anyways other than to stare at the same crevice every waking moment of my life. I couldn¡¯t help but to laugh, laugh as my eyeball got ripped out, every part of me in immense agony. Laughed as the fat jailor stopped, laughed as he left defeated, laughed and laughed and laughed until I fell asleep, for truly in that moment I saw that it didn¡¯t matter -- that nothing mattered at all. Absolutely nothing.


    The anxiety before the beatings, the fear of what was to come during, all of those had disappeared and every time I laughed. There was something so absurd in all of it, the suffering and pain I had suffered in my own hands and now this. Perhaps it was that I stopped clinging to life, or that at last truly had nothing, but everything had changed.


    Again the familiar footsteps echoed, this time with not as much gusto. Had the fat jailor lost his passion, I thought, but soon after a cavalcade of others could be heard walking in the dungeon. I tried to stand up to have a better look of what was going on down the corridor, but my arms failed to lift me up and I found myself coughing up copious amounts of blood once more. Dried and fresh blood had painted me from head to toe.


    Behind the fat jailor came two guards wearing platemail suits and draped in a crimson tabard with a circular insignia on it, and after them, a stern looking elf. The elf wore and similarly crimson, velvety robe covered in symmetrical symbols creating the same insignia that the guards had and adorned a golden circlet over his gray hair and a plethora of other jewelry I barely saw with my one working eye. I watched him closely as he walked next to bars and spoke something to the others. After the jailor responded, the elf smiled and took a step backwards, took a deep purple sphere from his pocket and began moving his other hand in odd formations.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°This should make things easier,¡± the elf said with a clear and calm tone. The elf said¡­ and I understood! He smiled as soon as he saw a my curious expression. ¡°Refreshing, I see. Now, I will ask you questions and if you lie or decieve me, I will kill you -- although that does not seem bother you. Yes?¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°Speak up child, I can understand you as you do me,¡± the elf said with a stern face.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I said.


    ¡°Good. I saw peculiar garments on a nobleman, I pressed him on the matter and what was revealed to me led me here. You are held captive on the accusation of being a foreign spy. That is not true now is, and if it were, you are from a far away continent forgotten to time. I doubt it, but have witnessed far more curious matters as well. So, child, should I ask who are you or what are you?¡±


    ¡°I have no idea what to answer,¡± I said honestly, ¡°a human, maybe, from somewhere far, far away.¡±


    The elf put his hands together in front of his face and fell silent for a while, staring me down with his hazy, gray eyes. ¡°Accepted,¡± he said as he turned away, ¡°take the child to Meister Sorenn and brand him.¡±


    The elf began to walk away, but the jailor stopped him by yelling something unintelligible. The guards drew their blades, making the previously tall standing orcish jailor bend his back.


    ¡°As I thought,¡± the elf said and walked away.


    Before I knew it, my shackles had been taken off and one of the guards hoisted me on his shoulders, making me puke blood all over him and, in the next few steps, faint and¡­


    ¡­ and there she was, as beautiful as always, Vera. Beckoning for me to come back home, to hug her as hard as I could and feel her warmth embrace me. Oh how I ran to her, to those long brown locks and big brown eyes, to that dainty and delicate face, to those loving hands, couldn¡¯t wait for her petite figure to press against mine. And then it hit me, an immense warmth surged throughout my body and weird words bounced around in the air¡­ and a face, chiseled face of a blonde man with gleaming yellow eyes. Just for a second there was someone else, someone not Vera, a mirage. I shrugged it off and kept on hugging with all my might. Went for a kiss on Vera¡¯s little lips and¡­


    God it hurt! Opening my eye I saw a long metal rod getting pressed into my right pec, burning away flesh and leaving an awful smell in the air. The same guard that hoisted me onto his shoulders was the culprit, and the only other figure I saw in the seemingly small room was a pale elven man with bright red hair and eyes to match wearing what looked like identical robes to the elf I saw in the dungeon.


    Around me were empty beds, a dozen or so, and a chandelier burning with fires that seemed to have minds of their own. Scarlet banners holding the same round insignia were the only things decorating otherwise sleek, marble-like walls. Looking closely at the insignia on the elf¡¯s robes, it had as the circle two uneven strokes, other coming to an end at the top and the other at the bottom, and in the middle was a strange eye looking upwards. Before I had an chance to explore the eye any further, the red haired elf stuck his face in front of mine and said something, after which he shaked his head in frustration. He waved his hand in the air in a familiar manner and spoke in an effeminate voice: ¡°Didn¡¯t even ask you for a name! You do have have, right, where ever you came from.¡±


    ¡°Jay.¡±


    ¡°You can leave now, go, hush, be on your way,¡± the elf said to the guard, shooing him off. ¡°Master made no sense whatsoever, not in the slightest! Typical. Regardless, Jay, I am apprentice Galel Ikash and you are a slave. Not really, no, but that is what I advice you to consider yourself as, for the time being anyways. A plaything more like, but where is the difference! And to this plaything I say -- welcome, I have been charged of putting you to use, for now.¡±

 Chapter 4, Path

    And put to use I was! Never had I ever thought in my life that I would have been doing physical labour at any point, but so it happened, cleaning of all things. Cleaning the somehow hundred-floor, maze-like contraption of a tower inhabited by the ruler of a city and an Archmage of all things. The master of Galel Ikash, Ilai Aomen, had left for the capital to meet the king and the Apprentice worked as my taskmaster and a teacher whilst filling in for the Archmage. Whenever Galel had time, he reluctantly taught me the language of the humans, Common, but other subjects were out of bound, because in his mind ¡°others could teach the dallywhaps and knicknacks of the world, but as I and my master are the only ones capable of teaching you the language with ease, as none else can cast this magic here, that is on me.¡±


    Never did he question why I did not know any known language, often pondering things aloud but ending up stating that it is not his business. It seemed like Archmage Aomen had forbidden any further inquiry to any aspect of my life.


    Given a dusted-off servant¡¯s uniform -- a bright-green gown and on top of it a tabard matching that of the guards -- I busied myself with work and studying. To my amusement, I found out that I enjoyed cleaning the common rooms, meeting halls, studies and what-nots. Every urn shined was a whole new world I took up with an absurd conviction, every window a task I tackled with all my might. Although at first, world without an eye looked dizzying and blurry, I quickly got used to it. Distances became easier to calculate and knocking things off rarer.


    Alone with my tools of trade I wandered the tower freely, making sure every nook and cranny was in order. A daunting prospect, considering that the tower had a hundred floors, but I could only enter around nine of them, and I tried. Every place I got into I was allowed to be in, and supposed to clean, those were the orders. Locked doors or ones without any way to open them, long corridors just abruptly ending without any purpose to them, many a thing made my area of operations smaller.


    The few magical items loitering around on pedestals in my area, I was allowed to fully dust off, or investigate as I took it. There weren¡¯t many, but on the third floor a tiny treasury was open to me I spend more time in than I would care to admit. One object in particular caught my interest -- an orb held by a brassy hand. It was a staff of some sort, incredibly heavy, and although what Meister Sorenn did to me renewed every bit of my strength, I could barely lift it. The brass handle seemed to be just that, brass, albeit without any dent or impurity in it, but the orb in its grasp¡­ at times it seemed to smile, others cry, sometimes glowing blue and other times pulsing black. After my experiences in the dungeon I could rarely feel any emotions, but things were different when close to the orb. It was as if it projected something into me or called something from within me. I tried my best to understand it but in vain, even Apprentice Galel having no answers or just not willing to say anything.


    Only other people I saw were the guards and officials that often visited the lower floors of the tower, accompanied by Galel at all times. One time I was starting my day, putting my clothes on at my resting place, the room I woke up in a month ago, when one of those officials came in and rushed to talk to me. Most of what he said made no sense to me, but I quickly understood that he was trying to pry what was my role within the Tower of Iza, or the Monolith as he said.


    ¡°Not from around here,¡± he carefully dumbed down his language. ¡°Servant? What do you do here?¡±


    As was instructed, I gave no answer, just stared uninterested at this man in lavish clothes and ornate jewelry. It would be an understatement to say that he did not like it.


    ¡°Speak! I am ¡­ and a friend of Archmage Ilai and you. You can trust me! Say to me, why are you here! Worthless son of a ¡­!¡±


    A sharp sting on my cheek made me laugh, the man taking a step back and preparing to hit me again, this time with his fist. Grinning, I prepared to take the next hit on the chin.


    ¡°Enough!¡± Galil stepped in to the room and stood next to the entrance. He had behind him few others, officials and people of import, some amused and some perplexed of what was happening. Defeated, the man joined the rest and I was left to dress up.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Later that day Galil, after our language class, visibly frustrated took a long and pained sigh. Nervously rolling a piece of lint with his fingers and flicking it off, he stood up to leave but stopped. We had managed to get to the point where he did not use the spell Comprehension, allowing one to understand and be understood by anyone capable of comprehending any one language, so when he cast it out of the blue it took me by surprise.


    ¡°Matters have become more complicated it seems,¡± he said, turning to face me. ¡°Ilai will be returning soon, should be at least, and he is not in the least amused. Hmph! Anyways. Has plans for you, Jay, and in the meantime, Jay o¡¯ Jay, wishes for me to teach you a bit more. More than I would care for. Hell, teaching magic to the uninitiated is like teaching a dog, well, magic. Makes as much sense! Understand? No! Of course you don¡¯t! And that¡¯s the problem. Just silently sitting there like always¡­ mad, Jay, you¡¯re mad¡­ to your benefit.¡±


    ¡°Teach me,¡± I said, ¡°teach me everything there is. I¡¯ll do my best, try my hardest, anything it takes I¡¯m ready.¡±


    Galel scoffed at me as he tugged on his red, long hair. ¡°That¡¯s not up to me, and if it was, you wouldn¡¯t get anything. But alas, I¡¯ll teach you. Like the language, you¡¯ll learn fast, but that is not it. I can see it, you crave power and nothing more. Why you, why Jay, I have asked time and again but no, he won¡¯t tell. Pearls to swine!¡± Rambling on and on, eventually the Apprentice shook his head for the final time and began his lecture.


    Starting with the basics, or what should have been if the knowledge would have been more widely known, he introduced me in our first class to the concept of the Weave. As Ilai had taught him and he later understood on his own, all magic is the same. All magic works the threads that are created and repaired by the goddess of magic, Mystra. From that, he explained, comes the concept of spellweaving. ¡°To speak out Truth to alter reality,¡± that is magic in essence. Words, he also explained are not always required. The heavier the burden is for the threads that lie in the background of the world we know, the heavier the cost must be.


    Whether it be the servants of gods who call upon and borrow the power of their deities, or sorcerers who found their inner power of casting through unexpected or hereditary means, or the magicians who meticulously study the methods and components of how to work the Weave, every spell affects it the same. Still, not everyone could interact with the Weave through their bodies and minds, although many magical items still could be used by them, and even in those who could slight differences lay.


    ¡°Then how adept am I to interact with the threads,¡± I asked, curious how far would I be able to go, but in my earnestly I was me with laughter, an unusual spectacle when it came to Galel.


    ¡°How would I know,¡± the Apprentice said as he shook his head. ¡°I only assumed you had some potential because of my orders! If you can in the first place then we should be good, how fast and how well, those are matters of character. How intelligent, hard-working, so on and so forth. Wise? No, not in the least, but good for you, wisdom doesn¡¯t make the difference. Though the unwise end up killing themselves quite fast, but talent, that they do not lack.¡±


    The lecture continued for a better part of the evening, staying within the history and theory of magic. To Galel the fact that I could recognize and understand words like spellweaver or enchantment from the get go were a source of endless amusement, so much so that he began at one point to throw out obscure terms and jargon just to test me. He couldn¡¯t believe that I haven¡¯t had any training beforehand, but straying true to himself, did not press on the matter. In the end, we stopped before going into alchemy as the Apprentice had other business to do.


    ¡°Now, never trust an alchemist,¡± Galel said as we were finishing, his high-pitched voice taking a more pressing and deep, still nasal, tone. ¡°Turning lead into gold, transmuting elements into different ones, it¡¯s all a facade. Yes yes, that is what they do and potions and the rest, all within the Weave and so on, but no. Most alchemists might even believe that that is what alchemy is, but no. No I say. Jay, listen to me closely. If there is anyone in this world or beyond in the other plains who wishes to become God, by any means necessary, it is the alchemist. All the speak of material transformation is a game, a parable, lie within a lie and its opposite. I¡¯ve dabbled and dare I say that Archmage Ilai has more than dabbled, but still. Good to explore, necessary even, but better left alone -- lest you become a pawn in a game you cannot understand, turned into a blithering monster, or worse.¡±


    So the first lecture about magic came to a halt and the words of the Apprentice echoed in my head. It became that much clearer, my calling. Power -- power called forth to take its path and I answered.

 Chapter 5, Path

    Days went past and I had completely forgotten my duties as the cleaner, and Galel did not seem to mind. He, in fact, had himself not met many outsider in a while and devoted his time to my studies. Language was still of utmost importance as Galel insisted that it would do me no good if I couldn¡¯t read any of the countless of books held within the tower. Tome in hand, he showed me how to process a tome about magic, the symbols, runes, and everything. I took it all in with a motivation I had never had, but then again, I never had before had any motivation toward anything. What I had done in my previous life, floated unmotivated through life without putting any focus into anything, had not stop my vague want to become a psychiatrist as I got into university with that. I had a good brain and it was readily observable -- now that I was not crippled by its poignant self-destructiveness.


    ¡°... and now that you have the most basic understanding of imagining within a magical context, how about a spellbook to go with it?¡± Apprentice Galel poked his hand into a ornate pouch by his side and pulled out a dark, leatherbound book that could have in no way fit into it completely. ¡°This here, every page enchanted vellum and that is not all, an essentiality for a magician. Make or brake, if you cannot attune yourself to this, then nothing will come of any of this. As I explained, you need the symbols, inscriptions to be depicted within an attuned object for you to be able to work the Weave as a magician. The others, clerics, paladins, warlocks and sorcerers, they do not. Their magic is not learned or earned, partly with the godly folk, but largely no. Anyways.¡±


    Offering me the book, I immediately opened it and began to flick through it. Every page from start to finish was empty. ¡°There¡¯s nothing in it¡­ Isn¡¯t there supposed to be the inscriptions somewhere here for me to have any use for this?¡±


    ¡°Gift horses and mouths¡­ Jay, if I were to give you a book which had something in it, you would be dead in a heartbeat. Firstly, you are a human and therefore have no inner racial magical essence, therefore no experience. Secondly, you have learned almost nothing yet and could not produce anything out of more complicated inscriptions. Thirdly, I have only two of such and need them both, as of Archmage Ilai, don¡¯t even bother asking. Fourthly, even if you were able to do anything with them, chances are when the dust could settles you won¡¯t be within it. Fiftly, just try and attune the damn thing as I taught you already and stop asking stupid questions.¡±


    I pressed book to my chest and concentrated upon it. Closing my eye, I could feel threads attaching themselves from it to me, the Weave connecting us to together, me and the book becoming one. As if my soul had latched onto it, I felt my fingers running on its cover, not as me, but as the book. Sounds disappeared, I was floating, me and the book were. In my mind I saw every part of it clearly, every empty page at the same time, every bit of it in unison. In that moment there were nothing but the two of us, and then like a crash through a waterfall, reality hit.


    Gasping, I opened my eye and was hit by the light of the enchanted braziers. Galel, who was just sitting opposite me, had vanished. I tried to look around but saw him nowhere in the study. Then the door opened.


    ¡°Who knew that the scroll cabinet would be such a mess!¡± The Apprentice walked in carrying a handful of scrolls and a strongbox.


    ¡°How long was I¡­¡± I said, breathless and still somewhat dazed.


    ¡°Long, as we all. Half an hour or so.¡± The elf seemed lackadaisical as he threw the scrolls on to the table and set the box beside them. ¡°It¡¯s time to fill that empty book of yours. Open them up, all of them, and tell me what they are.¡±


    The box had within it a well-crafted quill, a crystalline bottle of sparkly ink, and a small piece of emerald cloth. Everything else seemed clear but the cloth so I switched my attention to the scrolls. Rolling the first one open, it hit me.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°These are the equipment for me to inscribe spells into my book?¡±


    ¡°Self-evident,¡± Galel said with a coy smile, ¡°but the scrolls! Can you read them? Can you use them? What are they?¡±


    I took a closer look at the scroll I opened, tracing the symbol in it with my eye and trying to read the runes within it. It took me awhile but I got it. ¡°With this one you create a bolt of fire in your hand, release it by pushing it towards something and¡­ that¡¯s it. No components required, no words or gestures, just a sign --¡±


    ¡°Not a sign,¡± Galel cut me off, ¡°but a symbol. That symbol. Inscribed in a spellbook and brought to your mind through attunement with it. Be careful with words, Jay, words have meaning. A sign is a picture of something understood, agreed upon and known, but a symbol, now, a symbol is a mystery. Now, your task is to inscribe those symbols into your spellbook, I might add, without any imperfections. Hours, days, I don¡¯t care, but when you¡¯ve done it, come to me and we shall continue. Until then. I have business elsewhere.¡±


    With great precision and care I undertook my task, not allowing myself to make the minutest of mistakes for even a single ink blotch would have made my previous work null and void. The green linen came in handy, not because of its magical properties although it had some, but because excess ink had to be dealt with as a serious obstacle. Like a sponge it drew in all the extra, allowing me to continue with a pace otherwise impossible, although still slow. I had managed to scribble half of the symbol of the firebolt in my book until I stopped. Two hours had went just like that and my focus was becoming not what it should be.


    Retreating to dine upon the conjured foods and drinks of Galel upon the fifth floor dining hall, as no magician would ever dare to eat on the regular other people''s cooking, I found nothing on the vast table stretching from wall to wall that usually had luxurious cousines on it. Baffled, I searched the libraries, the many studies and laboratories, everywhere I could access and found him nowhere. Rushing through the lobby, I could hear people banging on the doors and screaming, ordering them, whoever were behind, to be let in. Soon the voices stopped and I moved on.


    On the twelfth floor I at last found the Apprentice, but he was not alone. Walking through a solid stone wall impervious to me, from behind him came a familiar figure I had not seen for a long time -- the Archmage himself, Ilai Aomen, came after him and through his calm facade seeped out an unnerving, jaw-clenching rage.


    ¡°I will return and and bring her here,¡± the Archmage said to his apprentice.


    ¡°To what end,¡± the Apprentice yelled, trying his best to keep his frustration in control, ¡°to what end¡­ Abandon us as he did, mocked our gains and sneered at our achievements, spat on the seeds planted and stomped them dead¡­ master, Rose is but a pawn and we need time.¡±


    ¡°Enough of this,¡± the Archmage said, frowning, his apprentice taking a deep breath in and to my surprise, calming down altogether. ¡°Galel, why do you think I served him this long? For his wit and guile? For his unairing rule and righteousness? For his trustiness and loyalty? He has none of those. I served him for my friend¡¯s blood runs through him, as it did his father¡¯s and the father before him. That river has ran dry, empty, diluted by cowards and thieves, by fools and vandals. I had forgiven it all, only for the sake of Darian and his dream, but no more. All is clear now, all is clear¡­ nothing is left of Darian, nothing remains of his glory and truth. No blood of his is left in that decrepit line!¡±


    The Apprentice lowered his head. ¡°As you say.¡±


    ¡°Now, this little jailbird here, listening without a care in the world.¡± Archmage Ilai stopped right beside me, and for the first time I saw clearly his face. Ilai looked like a walking contradiction, ancient yet juvenile, the grooves on his face cutting deep but having a skin like that of a teen and the gray of his hair looking like it was freshly painted. Adorned from top to bottom with jewelry and gemstones, a wooden carving of a raven that hung from his an elongated ear stuck out like a sore thumb. Even his voice, as deep and commanding as it was, had no blemishes or crack-ups, waivered not at all. ¡°Send him to the terrace at noon. I¡¯ll be waiting there.¡±


    The Archmage left in haste, albeit Galel seeming to have a lot more to say. That night I slept better than most and in the morning I had managed to complete the first inscription to my spellbook, the scroll withering away as its magic dwindled and siphoned into its new depository. All was within my grasp, so I felt.

 Chapter 6, Path

    There she was, me and her enveloped in a passionate hug. It had been happening more and more often, until there was nothing else left. No longer did I dream, I watched myself dream. I did not a feel body against mine, but watched my skinny, tall self being hugged. Watched my dark, scraggly hair being petted and caressed. The love of Vera I once felt fully in my dreams, I observed it happen from afar and that was it.


    The terrace, or rather a large balcony, watched all over the bustling city of Karan. Hands crossed, the ruler of the city, Archmage Ilai Aomen looked down upon it on a gilded chair. After leading me through a blocked passageway and a sigil that worked as a teleport to a fixed place, the Apprentice left us be on the Archmage¡¯s orders. I stood still, he sat dormant, as we both gazed upon the goings-on of Karan proper.


    Street stands selling their plums and breads, wandering adventurers looking for the next payroll, laborers cleaning the streets, blacksmiths banging with their hammers, and bards picking on their lutes and blowing on their flutes -- everything ran as it should have beneath the damp light of the tower. Somewhere there were my betrayer and my torturer, my past aspirations and hopes. Forever lost, splattered bloody trail on a back alley to be forgotten and abandoned.


    ¡°Sit down,¡± the Archmage said, his unwavering attention staying fully on the view.


    There were two chairs next to him and I chose the one closer to him. Cushioned to the extreme, sitting on it felt like all the past and present tensions I had had disappeared. Floating on a cloud, the emotion invoked.


    Taking a sip from a half-filled goblet, the Archmage winced. Next to the glass lay a pipe which he took up, filled its chamber and lit it with a wave of his hand. Eyes on the barely noticeable stars and space above, Ilai took his time with the pipe, little clouds popping out and quickly after fading away. The smell of tobacco, it overtook me.


    ¡°Soon,¡± he opined, seeming to address no one in particular, ¡°soon it will all end¡­ Hah! Nature of men will have its way, in the end, I wonder, I do. What I will thrust upon Galel I fear may be too much, but I trust him. Hundred years have trained him well. Tumultuous are these times, or rather, so I they will become. By my hand. But you, you serve a different purpose, a different painting all together. Say, Jay, what do you want? What do you desire?¡±


    ¡°A smoke,¡± I said in jest, my past craving cramping my muscles.


    Raising his eyebrows, the Archmage sneered and passed on his pipe to me. ¡°Have at it! Ignorance can be endearing, nevertheless, the question remains. What is it that holds your flame afloat the waters and how far are you willing to go for it to remain aflame?¡±


    A moment went past, then a second, as I thought and thought. In the end, only one thing seemed certain, looked as if it held any driving force within me. ¡°Power. Strength. I want to be stronger whether it be by magic or any other mean. How far then¡­ till the end I think. I can¡¯t see myself caring for anything really, so what do I have to lose? I don¡¯t know but that¡¯s the best I got.¡±The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°Why,¡± the Archmage asked with unexpected forcefulness as he turned to face me. ¡°You seek power, need it, crave it -- why? To what end? Revenge? Glory? Domination? Power is not a goal, it is a tool, a hammer to hit with or a arcane focus to cast with, nothing more. What is this Jay going to hit with the hammer when he gets it? Power to what, Jay, power to what?¡±


    I did not know. No matter how hard I tried, I could not find anything. Maybe I wanted power because of this, I thought, or that, to make a name for myself or to be admired. Whatever passed my mind, they did not cut, were false, had no emotion behind them. Nothing had. Before I knew it, Ilai answered the question for me.


    ¡°So there exists the want, but alas, no greater meaning to it. Irrelevant to me, better even, for as in power you are but a tool as well. Galel has not spoken much of you, but what I have heard has been to my liking. Plans I had for you have expanded, at first there was nothing but a wish to pry a little further into your story for my own amusement, to certify my hunch and to satisfy my curiosity, and to that end: who are you and where do you come from? Tell me everything and you shall have your meaningless power.¡±


    Without any hesitation I laid my life in front of the Archmage Ilai Aomen, who silently listened to my evert tangent and ramble. From my banal childhood to my self-seclusion of later years, depressive and destructive thoughts, the world around me as I saw it back then with warts and all, I gave him everything. Vera got mentioned as well, as was her meaning to me, nothing was out of bounds. Talking about her for the first time of my life did not feel like it should have, or like it once may have been -- it was just like with everything else, another bland topic with no baggage of any kind. Not pleasant at all, but then again, it was not unpleasant either.


    Ilai did not bat an eyelid when I spoke of her, or my pointless suffering and self-imposed hurdles, no, he simply looked down into the city. Only when I mentioned cars or few other machinery or technological achievements did he in any way look like he was listening. The figure that pushed me elicited a response as well, peaked his interest even. ¡°What a pathetic being. Tell me about this figure¡­ what did it look like?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t remember much,¡± I said, ¡°just the heavy cloak and that voice -- there was definitely something in there but I have no idea what.¡±


    ¡°We can discuss it on a later date, all of this. You are not the only traveler. Continue.¡±


    I explained my joy and hopes when seeing the city, that everything looked like a dream I had always wanted to be in. Spoke of the betrayer Bhalil, of my time in the dungeon and my sudden change.


    ¡°Broken,¡± the Archmage said with a tone of recognition. ¡°Or, one could say, purged of the burden of attachments. That will be of use, of great value to you, for now. Power is what you wanted, right? Hmph! What an excellent plaything. Begone and continue your training under Galel, soon you will be under the tutelage of another. Take the pipe and seek him, he should be waiting for you. Ask for a covering for that hideous eye while you are at it.¡±


    The Apprentice had been waiting behind the terrace door, keeping tabs on our conversation. He made no effort to hide his presence, audibly to everyone asking me to follow him. We were heading to the city, and for the first time in months, the double doors to the tower opened and I was to leave through them, to witness my lost Eden with a pair of new eyes. Or rather, an eye.