Intro to one of the stories I mentioned in another post

I've decided to upload the entire first chapter, since there's really no reason not to.
There is a second chapter mostly done, but I would rather it actually be finished before loading it somewhere.



CHAPTER 1 - Hasty New Beginnings

It was like any other stormy mid autumn day this side of the Pass of Bier'Hadeen, through the Mountains of Karkaross. It was just barely cold and the trees were a sea of orange, red and brown; the occasional stiff breeze scattering the drying, dying leaves like a hurricane of shuffling papers. A flash of light and a resounding boom betrayed a large storm cloud rumbling towards town.

The cloaked woman riding down the muddy dirt road, drenched and holding her barely conscious son wrapped in blankets, could not break the edge of the storm no matter how hard she urged her horse onward. The sounds of pounding hooves had long since been drowned out by sheets of rain and surges of lightning. The mother knew the old horse may not survive the journey. Celestina was quite surprised the old, bloated brown mare had made it this far. Starrvog hadn't been out for a proper ride in the better half of a decade and had grown, for lack of a more delicate phrase, fat and lazy. More importantly, the glow emanating from her son's eyes was growing brighter, the blanket no longer able to hide his illuminescence. Onward she rode, a rebellious light in the dark of the storm, racing for the walls of Cyricene.
Her vision was hindered by the increasing intensity of rainfall illuminated by her son's white light, and though Celestina could no longer see the walls of the city as she had when Starrvog crested the last hill, she only let Starrvog's pace slacken for fear the old mare might topple over just ahead where the muddy dirt road gave way to slick cobblestone.
Celestina spent much time here in her youth, and remembered an impatient young merchant whose horse slipped on the wet cobblestones at a full gallop. Without going into ghastly detail, it didn't end well for the merchant or his beautiful black stallion.
Years of regular horse-riding is how she could feel the difference, even with the lack of audible confirmation, exactly when Starrvog's hooves began hitting cobblestone. Celestina allowed her aging mare to slow to a trot, his lungs expanding heftily in his labored breathing. The gates of Cyricene were finally close at hand, and she would soon lose her son forever.

The laws here in the lands of Cyricene are quite clear: Any persons born within the lands of Cyricene displaying any natural connection to magic at all must be brought before the Council in the Crown City of Cyricene at the earliest possibility, where their connection to magic will be assessed. If confirmed they will immediately be sent off to the Cyricene Mage's College where they will cease to have contact with anyone not living within the College. Magic is unpredictable and dangerous and these measures are taken to ensure the safety to all bystanders by any form of magic gone wrong from those who are untrained in controlling their abilities.

As Celestina came upon the gates at Cyricene she slowed Starrvog to walking pace. A guard just beyond the shut gate opened a small round port, which he shouted through. "Who go..." the guard's voice trailed off undoubtedly as he caught his first glimpse of the illuminating radiance emanating from young Christian's eyes. "I see, one moment." The small view-port slammed shut and the gate began to swing open one of it's large doors. The same guard, already drenched from the rain, waved Celestina into the city and directed her over to a row of makeshift stables made mostly of wood and straw not twenty feet from the gate. "I'm going to need to ask you to dismount, ma'am. Just here out of the rain." The guard's face wasn't angry as he pointed out the area he meant, nearly shouting over the pouring rain. Intrigued or afraid perhaps, but certainly not angry. "Is something wrong? I should be.." The guard spoke up over Celestina in a louder, but still calm tone; "Nothing to worry about ma'am, just standard procedure." With little other choice Celestina trotted Starrvog to the rickety temporary stables, and handed young Christian to the guard so she might dismount. He hesitated only for an instant, before apparently realizing the emanation was coming from a child. The guard went wide-eyed as he reached out for young Christian; "Well aren't you a remarkable little one?".
The expression on the guard's face didn't reflect what Celestina expected. She expected to see a guard giving her a stern yet sorrowful look that constituted a combination of pity, horror and internal conflict. What she got instead was a bashfully humble dip of the head followed by a warm smile; "Has it been a long trip? How's the lad holding up?"

Celestina's voice caught in her throat. She'd never spoken of her son's abilities to anyone except the kind friends she lived with back in the small village of Lieren. It was hard enough to keep a regular secret in such a small village, much less a blatantly magical one.
"Everything alright there, ma'am?" The guard's suddenly concerned tone shook Celestina from her apprehension. It was clear her appearance was beginning to show the pain of the loss she was about to endure. "I'm really not sure..." You could hear the sorrow, the anguish in her words. As if the entire experience of losing one's child was flooding from every word; the very sound of it not wanting to pass her throat and become real. Celestina cleared her throat, trying to force the impending desolation mounting in her heart to leave her now faintly trembling voice; "This is only our third day, but last night we rode through the night. I fear he may have the chills."

In truth they only rode through the night because they couldn't find a safe place to try to make a fire and warm up. War is on the horizon and the woodland beasts are all in a stir, meandering where they usually don't and attacking whoever they run into out of fear.
 
Celestina carefully dismounted Starrvog and took her son from the guard, returned to her careful embrace. Starrvog promptly took his cue to lay down and rest, falling asleep almost instantly. "Three days you said? You from one of the southern fishing villages? Vadeen maybe?" It was obvious the guard was trying to make small talk; trying to normalize this day as if it were any other. Celestina looked at the guard almost quizzically; "No... we've come from the other direction actually. Down from Lieren." The guard's eyes widened at this, and it was only then Celestina noticed the guard's eyes. One blue, one green; just like the blue and green of Cyricene on his tunic. Still wide-eyed, the guard quickly looked from Celestina to Starrvog and back again, "You mean to tell me you made it here from Lieren on just midday of your third day? On that?" The guard gave a sideways nod in Starrvog's direction. The old nag responded by shifting just enough to pointedly and boisterously break wind in the guard's general direction.
"Oi, you stop that!" Celestina quietly exclaimed. She was used to Starrvog's more rude tendencies, but she couldn't help but be slightly embarrassed by it, especially in front of the guard of a city where she wasn't exactly a local or a regular. "Look I... we really should be on our way. Whatever this light is, its obviously a sign of magic. The law is clear." What started as a sorrowful excuse to part wound up sounding like casual callous resentment. In truth it was. Celestina hated what she was about to do, and she knew that it was already too late to turn back, to run and hide her son's magic from the world and live as a family. She couldn't bring herself to become callous enough to see any good in giving away her only son, and that made her resentful to the world.

In a sudden burst of movement, young Christian seemingly awoke with a start and immediately began motioning to be put down. Celestina bent down with her son, making sure he had a hand on the wooden wall of the stable to balance himself before letting him go. Christian made his way to the edge of the stable as fast as his unsteady legs would carry him, stuck his head into the rain and proceeded to vomit. To Christian's surprise he could immediately tell this wasn't any normal regurgitation. It lacked the normal acrid acidity of warm bile that should be erupting from his empty stomach. Instead it was cool and thick, it almost felt like it expanded to fill his throat before leaving and was keeping him from taking a proper breath. Celestina could do nought but look to her son, not wanting to embrace him for fear of exacerbating his clearly deteriorating condition. In the last few weeks this had been happening almost daily, but this is the first time it had happened since they left Lieren. It, the vomit, was clearly unnatural; maybe even magic... it was purple. She saw him stand for the first time in days, and she couldn't help but somehow feel as though he'd gotten even thinner since they left Lieren. They never truly went hungry, but neither was their fare ever plentiful. Young Christian was only eight years old, but already carried himself with the boldness of puberty he'd seen in the older boys in the village. Celestina never truly felt as though she could ever do enough to return the joy her son made her feel. He'd always been such a good kid, more so than any other child in Lieren. No one ever really taught him to be that way.

The guard uncomfortably fumbled through his wet pockets.
After several moments the heaving finally stopped and Christian kept his head down gasping for air, trying not to come away with a lung full of rain.
"You're going to need this, ma'am." The guard held up a piece of paper; "This here is a map of the town, and this..." the guard pointed to an apparently large structure in the northeastern section of the city "That's the College, this smaller section here that's attached to the College, that's the Medica. You're probably going to want to go here first. The law is the law, but no one is going to fault you for taking your son to a healer before sending him on his new life." Celestina took the paper from the guard, but paused before asking; "Isn't this going to get ruined in the rain?" "We get a lot of rain this time of year." the guard explained, "We've taken to having the mages make a special enchanted paper that doesn't soak up water."

A carriage slowly and quietly rolled to a stop alongside the guard under the temporary stables, Christian backing into the stables as it rolled through. No horses, just a large carriage in the blue and green of Cyricene; an awning hung over the carriage door and overlapped the mostly straw roof of the stable, the rain whisked away behind it. The guard opened the door of the carriage for her, "This ..eh.. 'magic coach' can get you to the Medica dry, rather than soaking. Afterall it is clear on the other side of the city." Celestina looked to the guard, then to her young son; "Thank you... you've been very kind. The guards where I'm from are far less friendly. 'Specially to a mother never married..."
"Well that's just it, isn't it ma'am?" The guard said with a smile that spoke of knowing, "Life's hard enough without the ones meant to protect causing harm."
Celestina's eyes shot wide in that instant. She had seen other young men beaten by guards for similar statements in the past. It seemed Cyricene really had changed over the last thirty years. Christian clambered up into the carriage, using what strength he had to avoid overhearing another drawn out boring adult conversation filled with local gossip and talk of the harvest to come. Celestina cupped the guard's cheeks in her hands and kissed his forehead; "Bless your kind soul, and may your future be brighter than my own."

She then turned on her heel, put a hand to either side of the carriage's door-fame and with one exhausted heave, pulled herself inside. Rainwater streamed down from her clothes onto the floor, which was designed with a slight descent into a single quarter-inch slit that ran along the length the floor from door to door. It was immediately clear that the humidity outside was not present within and sounds of the weather were somehow muffled by the carriage walls; yet another magical marvel of modern convenience. As the coach rolled forth leaving Starrvog behind in his slumber, it became fairly clear that regardless of how uneven or bumpy the roads may be, the magic inherent to the carriage ensured the occupants a smooth experience unattainable by other means. There wasn't even the slightest rumble from rolling over the cobblestone. The coach itself seemed to move with all the urgency and speed of a lizard on a summer day; while the rain kept their view limited, it was clear they weren't moving much faster than they could have on foot. Riding through the night had taken it's toll on more than just Starrvog, and it was perhaps only five minutes before both young Christian and his mother were fast asleep.

After what seemed far too short a period of time, there was a boisterous crack and rumble of thunder, quickly followed by splintering trees falling to the ground with a quaking thump. They both painfully jumped awake, hearts pounding. They noticed the coach door was ajar, the sound of the downpour now as deafening as it had been on the ride into town. After the realization set in that they were both fine, they were rather bemused to find their clothes were now completely dry; as were the seats in the coach. In fact it looked as though there was never anything wet in the carriage. Celestina quietly prayed that was just another magically convenient function of the carriage.
The alternative would mean they had been asleep there for several hours and were in serious danger of having their absence mistaken as an attempt to circumvent the law. That realization did Celestina no good so far as returning her heart-rate to less than that of a hummingbird's.
Regardless, she knew the only path was forward. But was it, truly? She could still choose to turn and flee into the storm with her young son, though she very much doubted she would get far. At least one guard knew exactly why they were here, and he would surely check to make sure they had reached their destination. Starrvog wasn't really in any state for another full run, for who knew how long. No then; the only path was forward.

The Mage's College of Cyricene for the most part appeared little different from those same overly decorated gothic cathedrals present in many of the larger villages, save for one major difference; the Mage's Tower at the main building's north wall reaching unto the heavens and disappearing into the cloud layers above.

The carriage had pulled alongside what appeared to be a lesser-used special 'carriage entrance'; at the very least the area the carriage had pulled into seemed designed specifically with the carriage in mind. What more, the awning of the carriage door ended near perfectly, with only a tiny gap between the carriage and stone building. There were no other people around, not even a solitary guard; though several muffled conversations and rushed movement could be overheard from within.
Taking one last deep breath, Celestina did what little she could to mentally prepare herself for the path that lay before her. "...mother?..."
The weak voice of her ailing son was enough. She hated herself for what she was about to be forced to do. Her son was sick, had no idea of what was about to happen, and was about to be torn from his mother by decree of law. Young Christian would likely never understand that she had no choice, that defying the law would have meant they would either have ended up as wandering druids, criminals, or dead long before doing 'what seemed right' mattered. And there was no guarantee the druids would consider taking them in regardless.

Celestina mustered a weak smile at her clearly confused and somewhat dazed young man. "Right you are!" Her voice lazily rang with pretend joviality, "We've sat long enough! Time you see a Doctor." Her son showed little sign of emotional reaction. Or maybe he did, it was hard to tell through his grimace. It was clear his insides were dancing and churning in ways they were never meant to. Try as he might to hide his discomfort, he was as pale as ever and was clearly in some sort of continuous pain. He'd always been a somewhat sickly child, but he's always been in better physical shape than most kids his age. It was always assumed young Christian 'simply picked up whatever was going around at the time' whenever he got sick; even if he showed symptoms they did not. At first, that wasn't so abnormal. Until those 'extra symptoms' started getting stranger and stranger over time. It wasn't clear it was magical in nature until the one year he got the winter flu and started sneezing feathers. Red and purple feathers unlike any bird anyone they came across had ever heard of.

Celestina, though a fairly small woman, still had some issue hoisting her groggy self up from the carriage bench and down to the gravel drive. A resounding yawn from young Christian perfectly echoed how she felt. Celestina took a moment to stretch beneath the awning, the rain still pounding around them before turning around to help Christian, who to her surprise was already out of the carriage behind her and also stretching with eyes no longer glowing. Celestina couldn't help but smile, and in doing so let loose a single tear. Moments like this were nearly identical to moments they had shared through all of Christian's young life. Any other time it would be one of her reminders of just how alike they really were, how undeniable it was that he was her son. But now, all it reminded her of was that he would soon be gone forever. Luckily young Christian's back was to his mother while stretching, and she hastily wiped away that tear before he ever had the chance to notice.
Celestina took her young son's hand, and with every moment feeling like an eternity, she reached for the double-doors and walked her son into the Medica of Cyricene.

The high ceilings were adorned with elaborate murals of stories half forgotten; within was an arrangement of marble tile floors, fanciful chandeliers lit with magic, rows of bookcases reaching out to the far wall and several doors to other areas of the Medica. All of which were filled with the sounds of hushed voices, shuffling feet and papers as several dozen people went about seemingly separate tasks. The entryway to the Medica seemed far more like a place of learning than a place of healing. Celestina stood agape, for this room held more objects than her entire village combined. Looking down she caught a similar sense of wonder from young Christian as his eyes stood wide, scanning their unfamiliar and intimidating surroundings.

It wasn't long before their looks of lost wonder caught the attention of one of the many people bustling about. "Well, hello there dears!" The elderly woman was a true caricature of grandmotherly joy. Her slim frame swayed slightly, her glasses hung low on her bony nose. "Oh! You both look absolutely precious! I so LOVE being here to greet newcomers!" Her face portrayed the same cadence as her voice; something was somewhat 'off' but in a way you couldn't quite pick out. The old lady cleared her throat before continuing; "Welcome to the Medica! Our historied and ancestral grounds absolutely can't WAIT to assist you today! How can I get you started?!" As the piercing eyes of the old woman bore down on Celestina their gaze drew her in, and in that instant she realized the old woman's eyes were two different colors. The same blue and green as the guard who originally greeted her.
The familiar tug from Young Christian at her sleeve broke her momentary trance before Celestina could sheepishly reply; "My boy is unwell. I've been trying to deny it for almost two years, but it's clear whatever ailment he has is of magic. It seemed like any old cold up until he started sneezing feathers, but it's only gotten worse since then. Poor thing's been vomiting..." Celestina paused and glanced around, knowing full well how crazy this last part sounded; "glittering purple ...muck".

The old woman's face had started with insincere joviality, shifted to concern and had since grown sour, weary with shock. "Oh, my! Well, that certainly sounds indicative of magic." Her face was a mix of shock, worry and careful contemplation. "Well, first things first! Let's get a Doc in on this so we can run through a few preliminaries and get this young sir a better idea what's going on." The old woman had accomplished a tone that was a clear mix of uncertainty and reassurance in nearly equal measure.

Spinning on pointed heel, the old woman briskly made her way past three rows of bookshelves before stepping behind a desk on the left side of the atrium. The desk was covered in scattered papers, and she began rummaging through the drawers one after the other. "I'm quite certain... ah! Here we are!"
The elderly nurse pulled a small, strange device out of the drawer and held it over the desk. The object seemed to be several metal loops loosely wrapped around a dark crystal. The old woman twisted one of the rings, and the crystal emitted a clear tone.
For several moments nothing happened. Then the transparent visage of a person rose up from the desk, several papers pushing off the desk as if they had caught a stiff breeze. The ghostly young woman spoke almost immediately, and young Christian looked on in wide-eyed panic; "Good day Nurse Casteal, how might I be of service?" The apparition took no immediate notice of Christian and his mother, with eyes and ears apparently only for the person who summoned her. "Hello, Bea! This delightful young man is going to need a full workup, followed by a..." Nurse Casteal paused for a moment, before cautiously continuing, "He's going to need a special evaluation. You Know the One I mean." The Nurse gave the apparition a stern look, pressing her lightly veiled point further.
The spectral woman only then turned her head to acknowledge young Christian and his mother for the first time, immediately kneeling to get a better look at the thin boy of eight. "Well... you look absolutely dreadful, poor thing. YOU may call me Beatrice; and this must be your very worried mum." Beatrice absently gestured towards Celestina with whispy fingers, as if her attention was so focused on Christian that she nearly couldn't be bothered to clarify who she meant. "The most important thing for you to keep in mind just now, my young friend, is that while we're treating you it's best to be honest. No matter how weird or crazy you think whatever is happening to you sounds, the more accurate information you give us, the easier it will be to help you."
Beatrice's words carried an audible weight of true compassion.
Christian lifted his head and looked the apparition in her eyes and grimaced before falling to the floor, screaming in agony, and tearing at his clothes as if they had caught fire. The former uncomfortable squirming and gyrating he had felt in his gut the entire trip here had resurfaced into a tearing, slicing of his insides that he could barely endure. Celestina threw herself at her son, unable and unwilling to hold back a motherly instinct of aid. She almost immediately found herself being restrained by the translucent Beatrice; "I realize you won't thank me for this just now, but it really is best to let the professionals handle this now, my dear." Beatrice held Celestina by her arms and flew her above and out of the way.

Nurse Casteal, who had sped away as this started, now returned alongside three individuals completely obscured by pale colored protective equipment, one of whom was pushing along a wheeled stretcher. Young Christian, still screaming and tearing at his now bare chest suddenly began to float into the air. The emergency response team froze in place, amazed and unsure what to make of what they were seeing. Screaming and spinning three feet above ground young Christian's physical body began to violently ripple. Spectral eyes wide, Beatrice feared she knew what came next as she swiftly turned and whisked Celestina out of the Medica, screaming to be with her suffering child.
Christian's slender frame exploded in waves of light and color, sound and silence; Nurse Casteal and the response team were assaulted point blank with magic unlike anything they had ever witnessed. The response team almost immediately fell to the ground, their bones entirely disintegrated. Nurse Casteal found herself assaulted by a madness that left her trapped deep within her own mind, comatose to the outside world. But seemingly only an instant after it began it ended with another explosion of magic and a resounding crack that sent anyone nearby flying through the air, many of whom had already begun to flee. Christian's form morphed into that of a winged, tentacled, fanged monstrosity; an ever shifting amalgamation of chaos and nightmares that now flew about the Medica, slamming into walls and setting rows of shelving alite before several spells landing at once knocked the beast out and young Christian began to return to his natural human self.


With Celestina gone the Medica's staff and spirits began their respective examinations of young Christian, and the next time he woke it was to a well furnished room lit by the noonday sun. He was left on the most luxurious bed he had ever seen and wearing brand new clothes which felt far different from his own; lighter and less scratchy to say the least. He had no idea where he was or how long he had been asleep, but what he did know he wish he didn't. His entire body ached, his vision seemed incapable of focusing on any one thing, his stomach felt emptier than the family pantry after Thanksgiving and the colors around him seemed unusually blinding. He shut his eyes tight, praying to return to sleep as he felt the room begin to spin. He was just thankful his stomach were empty, or someone would be cleaning another puddle of purple before the hour was done.
His eyes closed tight, Christian seemed to hear what he had not before. Footfalls both near and distant echoing through long marble halls, muffled distant conversations and what he could only describe as the frantic scrawling of madmen putting all of their twisted revelations to paper. His heart and mind raced with dark ideas of where he now found himself; alone and in pain while surrounded by sounds he had little hope of identifying correctly. Back home in the farmlands of Lieren very few people his age had learned to read or write; in simplest terms it was not a skill they needed, and even if they did they lacked a school or a teacher to instruct them. The children were simply allowed to be children, and had only begun to learn the most basic aspects of farming from those now too old to do the work themselves.
Young Christian grew so distracted by his memories that he wasn't sure if it had been an hour or a mere ten minutes when he heard the click of the door's latch. In stark contrast to the silent door hinges, the irrepressible squealing of the push-trolly's wheels was about all it took for Christian to know human interaction was imminently inevitable. As the obnoxious squeaks of the trolley found their way alongside him, Christian began to cautiously turn onto his side and gingerly push himself upright.

"Ah, good afternoon young Mr Prewitt. We had begun to think you may not wake before the end of the week." A white man in his mid thirties spoke in a calm and measured tone; "I am Dr Morgrave. How are you feeling?". Christian replied in a weary and resigned voice, "It's very bright... The room is spinning... I feel like I haven't eaten in weeks... Last thing I remember my mother and I were speaking to a ghost-lady... then... nothing..."
"Hand." Christian had no idea what the man meant. After a brief pause Morgrave clarified, "Hold out your hand, son." Christian gingerly reached out expecting to be grabbed by the wrist, but instead his palm was met with a cool mug.
"You have been asleep for four days, some of that discomfort is likely dehydration. Drink this, it should help with the fatigue and dizziness." Christian cautiously took a sip of what he expected to be water, but was surprised to find the flavor of fresh squeezed orange juice. Growing up on a farm we sold two thirds of everything we grew, getting to have juice was rare unless you were sick.
Finally, with immense trepidation, Christian timidly opened his eyes. The room spun much slower than it had but a moment ago and the ache in his body slightly subsided. Dr Morgrave sat several feet across from him with his slender frame, round glasses and neatly center-parted short greying hair. "Outside of dehydration you do have a small concussion and are likely sore from that rather large fall you took." Dr Morgrave spoke evenly and without any hint this was anything but routine, but the idea that Christian couldn't remember what happened made the young boy nervous. Christian had become accustomed to strange and unusual but this was the first instance of him losing time. In his already excitable state the young boy suddenly remembered what might be the most depressing detail of his current situation; "Mother tried to explain the laws to me... I'm never going to see her again, am I?"

For the first time since he'd entered the room the look on Dr Morgrave's face took a somber, sorrowful expression; "No, that's not very likely. As much for her protection as anyone else's. You, young man, are an entirely unique set of circumstances whose mysteries we know so very little about. Without the training you are to receive in this place, it would be very unlikely you would ever be allowed to leave."