Broken History

  Footsteps.

  “What in the Graces is this?” spoke a feminine voice.

  “Er. It’s complicated?”

  “I’ll take care of this. You two leave.”

  “I’d sooner die.”

  “Well, what about you?”

  Silence.

  “Do I need to repeat myself?”

  More footsteps.

  A door slammed shut so hard that the ground shook, followed by garbled words that sounded like a spell.

  The footsteps returned.

  “I know you’re awake. Get up.”

  Ty, whose eyes had been open, raised her head at the voice.

  “The floor’s filthy,” spoke the tiny Chel with disgust written all over her face.

  Wiping her tears, Ty got up from her curled position on the floor beside an armchair and continued to look at the physician silently, waiting to be scolded again.

  Instead, Chel averted her eyes and walked over to the desk across from Luci, sitting down in front of the pile of books she had inspected before.

  “Those yours?” asked Luci inquisitively, still sitting on his desk and kicking his feet.

  “Yes,” answered Chel brusquely while she took a notebook and pen out of her bag.

  “So…why are you in a cranky mood? You’re usually super cute.”

  “Just had to deal with the Headmistress.”

  “Ooh. Is that hostility I sense?”

  “Shouldn’t be new to you.”

  Luci chuckled, observing the aggravated third-year physician intently. “Oh yes, well put. Whatcha doin’?”

  “Researching.”

  “Anima?”

  “Reversing it.”

  With his signature, borderline-sarcastic, inquisitive look, Luci made a thoughtful noise. “Huh. Reversing? Trying to fix something, O physician?”

  “You know what I’m trying to fix.”

  The tactician looked ecstatic, turning around to the dumb Ty. “I do?” he laughed with one of the most genuine smiles on his face that she had ever seen. “I haven’t the slightest. What about you, Ty?”

  Without doing much thinking, she blinked at the two looking expectantly at her and replied with the first name that came to her. “Moriya.”

  Raising her eyebrows with a bored look on her face that could have mirrored the prodigious professor’s, Chel returned to her paper. “You wouldn’t know anything, would you?” she grumbled quietly.

  “I’ve never tried,” replied Ty without the slightest hesitation. “I don’t really know what I’m doing when I’m healing.”

  A sigh escaped the physician’s lips, as if she had heard the words a thousand times. “Forget it.”

  “Is it possible, though?” chirped Luci, turning back to Chel. “You must have been searching for quite a while now.”

  A decade.

  “I’ll find a way.”

  “Mm. I like the dedication,” he laughed in reply to her wavering words before turning serious. “And hey, if you don’t, at least you’ll get your revenge.”

  Chel stopped writing, tightly clutching the pen in her hand and gritting her teeth. “We’ll all get our revenge.”

  The Earth Mother’s words were commonplace now among the noise cluttering her mind. Revenge, revenge, revenge, it whispered, echoing Luci and Chel’s words. Revenge, revenge, revenge, she replied to the voices. Who had wronged her and who she was taking revenge on had gradually become clearer and clearer after the past month; what work had to go into it, what time she had left to enact it, however, remained a great unknown.

  “Oh yeah,” continued Luci, unable to bear the threatening silence of the study room. “We saw Moriya earlier at the Caster’s Assembly. He looked pretty pissed.”

  Chel sat up straighter in her seat. “The old man showed up, didn’t he?” she scowled, staring down at the book in front of her.

  Having lost herself in her own thoughts while the two chatted, the tactician finally remembered why she was here.

  “Em?” she asked aloud, facing where Faris no longer stood. Despite the things he said, she missed his presence. His candor made her feel grounded.

  I’m glad he left. He has class to get to.

  “Yes. Emrys…Krastoff,” answered Chel slowly, still fixated on the book in front of her, eyes glossy. “Krastoff…”

  She hadn’t heard that name before. It didn’t sound even the slightest bit familiar—had Theo never mentioned the name of Em’s teacher?

  “Why would that make him upset?” Ty asked tentatively, finally stepping away from her spot.

  “There’s a certain magic…” mused Chel, choosing her words carefully and watching Ty walk over to take a seat across from her. “A certain magic despised among the few who know about it…including Nate…that prolongs life.”

  The lives of the Ancients. Their auras, becoming black. She could see it now, surrounding the old sorcerer. Unable to release him from the land of the living.

  “But how?” asked Ty, dreading the answer herself.

  “It was…a long time ago,” continued Chel carefully while she pushed her chair back and stood up to head to a bookshelf in the corner of the room. “It was Krastoff’s…it was their research. They had found out how to do it some five centuries ago. The Magic Association hadn’t even existed yet, let alone MATS. It was just the Tome Society. They were once one of their chief researchers.”

  After scaling the ladder two rungs at a time, swiftly and expertly, the physician grabbed a book at the very top before making her way back to the desk where Ty sat.

  “As one of the first who ever lived with the subjects of their research, the truths Krastoff collected from the Ancients were not only revolutionary for their time, but formed the basis for why common-blood magic users began using the Ancients for their own gain; the possibility of extending one’s life, for one,” she explained quietly, putting the old and unmarked tome on the table between her and the tactician. “One of the first who put it into practice was their pupil…Emrys.”

  She let the information sink in, looking at Luci particularly, who seemed unaffected. Ty, on the other hand, felt her stomach turn.

  Chel continued. “Despite the many preserved documents suggesting that the other members of the Tome Society were furious upon discovering the extent of how damaging the work was to the Ancients and their once solitary lifestyle, Krastoff suffered no reprimands or consequences, and even went on to form what would be known as the Magic Association.”

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  She breathed in deeply before letting out a heavy, sullen sigh. “Decades later, Krastoff penned one last book before disappearing entirely. And with them…at least a century’s worth of books and research. Just…just gone. Since then, records of them have been few and far between—not to mention uncorroborated by any official parties, meaning that any historian would be hard-pressed to even suggest that they be true. Even so, there is no doubt that they kept at least some of their research…and their pupil.” She eyed Ty, making sure she was still listening. “There is a reason the old sorcerer does not go by any name but his own…Emrys. Any mention of Krastoff and their books—even the faintest whisper—will disqualify any credibility one has. They purged their research before they left, which led to their exile from MATS because the texts were a foundation for all Ancient learning. As it stands, not even the Magic Association discusses their contributions, despite their current practices being based on the same research. I suspect Emrys was recruited by MATS because they knew he must have access to the critical research…and Graces knows what else.”

  She hesitated, averting her eyes slightly. “Nate sees Emrys as the worst possible extension of Krastoff’s work, as his preservation of his teacher’s ideas heavily implies that he finds the abuse of Ancients worthwhile to the magic community. And that’s not to mention that the sorcerer himself has, without a doubt, put the research into practice. Darius has confirmed that much, and I suspect you can too, if you read the one remaining book they left us.” Then, after a deep sigh, the physician straightened her back and nodded to the book in front of her. “I managed to track this book down last Circle and paid for it severely along the way. Even Nate disapproved of the entire endeavor, but it is indisputable how valuable it is from a historical standpoint. Now, can you guess where I found it?”

  “Theo,” breathed Ty. It had to be—it made the most sense.

  The physician nodded.

  “So…” Ty eyed the book in front of her, afraid of touching it. “If talking about them is taboo…if all his research was pulled, and only one book remained…why did Theo have it? Why were you trying to find it, and how did you know to look for it?”

  She shrugged. “Because he’s Emrys’s student. Because maybe the sorcerer wants his student to follow in his footsteps. Because maybe Theo knows something. Take your pick. Whatever the reason, we needed it to figure out how he was doing it, maybe find a way to stop it. He needs to die for us to make it out of this mess, anyhow. It was luck that we even found it—this book has been something of a myth, even to Araminta.”

  Ty could not think of anything else but Theo. “Do you know if…did he—”

  She looked revolted. “No, of course not.”

  Feeling her face grow hot, Ty immediately wished she could have taken it back.

  You hypocrite.

  “Getting to the point—before you read this,” spoke Chel just as Ty made eye contact with her again, “Nothing leaves this room. You read this here. I’ve spent a lot of time trying to organize this study, and—” Her neutral frown turned into a stern glare. “I know you took out that report. Don’t you dare try to do anything like that again.”

  When Ty did not reply, Chel maintained her scowl. “Is that understood?”

  Instead of saying a simple ‘yes’, Ty seized the opportunity to ask, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

  The question did not seem to surprise anyone, as Chel kept her expression deadly. “I may not like you, but I still want to end these absurd Circles. I want to stop seeing my friends suffer. I don’t even want my school life back anymore.” She clenched her jaw. “I just want this all to be over. I want peace. That’s my reason.”

  She overheard.

  Chel rolled her eyes when Ty could only look at her with guilt and embarrassment. “Anyway. Luci, come. I need to talk to you outside before you go.”

  “Oh, I don’t get to stay?” he replied, wanting to stay a spectator for longer.

  “No, I can’t have you reading the book and trying to figure out how to live forever. We already let you get too close for comfort one time, and I’m not about to be responsible for it happening a second time,” ordered the tiny student, pointing to the door.

  Hopping down from the desk, chuckling lightheartedly, he made his way outside while Chel remained rooted in her spot beside Ty until the door closed.

  Her arm dropped to her side. Facing the entrance, she paused for a few contemplative seconds, and then said under her breath, almost begrudgingly, “I also never thanked you for saving Nate. Even if it was time for you to save him for once.”

  As she left, Ty picked up the book in front of her.

  It was physically unremarkable; the outside cover was bound in green leather, with no visible name or title, and it was about the length of a storybook.

  Gently, she opened the cover and was met with another blank page. She picked up a thick piece of yellowed parchment between her index finger and thumb and turned the page. There was a single paragraph in the middle of the next one. The text was in black ink, its letters placed onto the page with perfect precision. If she looked closely, she could see the indent each letter made into the paper, and she could feel it when running her hand across the other side.

  The tactician took a deep breath, exhaled it, and then began reading.

  On many occasions, I have been prompted to speak more about auras; much has changed since I wrote my chapter on them in A Survey of Magic several years ago. Since then, through a series of monumental mistakes, I have had the privilege of understanding first-hand something that once solely belonged to the Ancients. I write this volume of text as part of my quest for atonement; please heed my warnings. Do not repeat the same mistakes as I have.

  A chill ran through Ty. A Survey of Magic. She remembered that name. She remembered the chapter. She remembered who had given her the book.

  She turned the page again, this time confronted with a single sentence in the middle of the page:

  If possible, I would like to be remembered as the bright-eyed student I was years ago—full of curiosity, tenacity, and an unquenchable desire to discover the unknown—and not as one who forsook their soul and many others in the name of research.

  Before she could proceed to the next page, she heard the door click open again. Chel slipped in, mumbled a spell by the door, and then caught her staring.

  “What, you’re not reading it?”

  A small, involuntary smile crept across Ty’s lips. It felt like so long ago that Theo had said something similar to her, when she had an equally similar book in front of her.

  Can I live forever too? Collect all the pieces of everyone that I’ve missed?

  She shook the stray voices out of her head and returned to the book.

  Unlike the chapter she had been instructed to read by Theo, it did not begin with statistics or testimonials. Yet it also wasn’t exactly personal like the editor’s note or the first two pages, either. It was a curiously detailed summary of auras, down to the colors and meanings that Ty had never memorized. There was information about the intensity of colors, the size and proliferation of auras, and there was even a section about faded ones.

  And then she arrived at the chapter about broken auras.

  As suspected, individuals with incomplete auras are not allowed to participate in the community. Rarely are they ever in the public eye, and after a certain age, they disappear entirely. The whereabouts of such individuals have not been documented, but one thing is certain: there is no room in the community nor necessity for these children who are considered “broken.”

  It remains unclear whether this hypothetical “break” in the aura is something that one is born with, or if it is something that is developed. Physically and mentally, it does not appear that they are lacking in any way, and if anything, they may even be precocious among those in the same age group. Furthermore, to address many of my colleagues’ theories, I found no clear link between these broken auras and maltreatment. Children are raised by the village as a whole, as are all children, and no forms of abuse or trauma were observed in any Ancient community; it appears to be exclusive to the common people.

  More data points. Her eyes skimmed the next few pages detailing the conclusions drawn from data with no discernible pattern.

  The only conclusion that can be drawn from this disparity of data, of all these seemingly random cases of “broken” auras, is that it is something present from birth. No amount of research into the communities, into the children, and into every mental or physical aspect, could yield any concrete results as to where broken auras come from.

  As such, I pose again to you, reader, just as I did years ago—if these “broken” children are delivered unto the world in this state, only to be tossed aside once they come of age, what is the Earth Mother trying to tell us? Exactly what is wrong with those with broken auras, and why are they such beacons of shame to the point that their eradication is imperative?

  Ty stayed on the page for a long time, letting the words sink in.

  Theo’s broken aura—miyen’amo, Darius had called it. Loss. They had been trying to figure out what it had meant, once upon a time. They had guessed that something was going to happen to him, and it did. It did, because of her. He had burned down one of Her Graces—was that why his aura had been marred?

  The Earth Mother. The answer to the original question—if she was truly all-loving—was a resounding no. The answer was revenge. It was fire, it was chaos, it was a red sky and falling ashes. Whether it was out of love or spite, one thing remained clear to Ty after all this time, and it was that the lives of each individual did not matter as long as She fulfilled Her goal.

  She imagined losing Theo. She imagined him never existing solely because his aura was broken, solely because he was fated to destroy one of the Graces. The Ancients getting rid of him for that—was it a way to keep communities peaceful? To protect themselves from Her wrath? How could they continue to exile the broken when they were already suffering such great losses?

  Revenge.

  She paused, listening to the voice echoing in her head.

  Revenge.

  Was this part of the Earth Mother’s revenge? Mark them so everyone would know to get rid of them, as if they had committed a grave sin. As if they would commit a grave sin.

  Revenge.

  Unable to do nothing but stare down at the black ink on the yellowed parchment, she listened to the word endlessly repeat in her head as the greatest question remained unanswered: how could Krastoff—she could not say the name without an unsettling feeling stirring within her chest—be so sure of the data they had collected? Anyone other than an Ancient could not reliably confirm every detail about the auras, every testimony, every irregular case. That was what originally made their research on auras nonviable: it could not be reliably corroborated by anyone who wasn’t an Ancient. Where was the credibility? The sources? How did they know so much, especially when it was already clear that they would not speak of the “broken”?

  Revenge.

  No, not this time.

  Reward?

  They were going to live forever.

  And then it hit her all at once. The cryptic words in the beginning, the chapter in their previous book. The questions posed to her, the questions that she had asked herself. The resoluteness of the facts, of the truth.

  Yes, she was almost sure of it. Despite being of common blood, Krastoff had somehow learned how to discern auras. He had become an Ancient.