Story Thus Far and Edited Prologue (Patreon)

Story Thus Far

Arden had left his small village at the border of Zenovia when he came late into his power as a mage. He had all but given up at that point, but when his power came, it came with a full force.

As Ard started on his adventure, it kicked off to a rocky start. But Ard only took one beautifying lesson at the other end of a club to understand that his new life was very real, and he needed to take it seriously and grow stronger quickly.

His four spheres not only gave him a great depth to his magic, but it also seemed to help accelerate his learning. It took an innkeeper daughter’s broken nose for him to get a handle on some of the finer points of magic, but he successfully healed her and continued on his journey to Hidavente, a major city in the kingdom.

Along the way, he and Emlyn figured out how to get out of their own way and let their lost love rekindle. They picked up Zuri from their new allies in House Trevis, while Ard turned down a favorable family and their daughter Aurelia.

After reaching the capital, Ard didn’t have entirely smooth sailing. He’d worked with Melida Trevis, a three-sphere mage he’d met when he’d come into his power who quickly became his mentor, to dig up a large silver leaf operation that was working in tandem with a group of deserters. The military-based woman took the deserters very seriously.

As Ard continued to unravel the plot behind the operation, it grew larger than he’d initially expected and bigger than he was confident he could fully handle. But he was already hip-deep into the chaos and racing towards conflict with Third Prince Valerian. Given Valerian’s chasing and poor treatment of Emlyn, Ard had no issue going head to head with the mage.

A battle ensued, and Valerian lost to Ard, who ended up walking through the city healing all who suffered from the disaster that unleashed dozens of corrupted mages amid the city.

Through the series of events, they were able to piece together that Valerian had betrayed the kingdom of Avente for the Garrish Kingdom that was to the east and currently embroiled in war.

Thankfully, with the war occupying the King and First Prince, Ard was about to slip away with his Grandfather to the capital to meet his long-lost mother. He isn’t sure what he will find when he gets there. His mother has been unresponsive since she gave up hope for finding Ard and his father Harry. Ard’s father had chosen to drop him at the village as a baby, and Ard still had so many questions unanswered.

As he and his Grandfather prepared to leave, Ard had refused to leave his first horse behind. He’d never dreamed of owning his own horse. That is where we’ll begin the second chapter of this story.

Prologue

*** Eighteen Years Ago ***

Hecate woke up from yet another slumber, still recovering from the censure. Her progress had been worse than a snail’s pace. She pressed against the stone lid and pushed, tearing away old vines and roots and sliding the lid to the side.

“Again.” She whispered, her voice smooth despite the thousand years of rest.

Her power came to her immediately when she called to it, and she floated herself upwards, closing the sarcophagus with a wave of her hands.

She looked down. The gorgeous robe she had been wearing before hadn’t weathered the time nearly as well as the rest of her. She would replace it in time.

Unlike mortals, she didn’t put such a point on appearances.

Mortals.

The word stuck in her mind, and the image of Zenov came unbidden, causing her to frown. She hated that he was the first thing she thought about as she emerged.

Once again, anger flared in her at his betrayal.

She had given him the capacity for magic, expanding his soul and allowing it to connect with the world outside. He had great potential both as a leader and a mage. She had just opened it to a new level, at no small cost to herself.

In return he should have made temples to her the world over and grow her strength. She had liked Zenov and gone a little further than necessary.

That had been the chink in her armor that her enemies used to strike her, censure her right after she had given the mortal magic.

It had forced her into thousand year fits of sleep in order to recover, now that she was disconnected from her greater power.

“Let us see where your descendants are now, Zenov.” She reached out, able to feel all of those who had the greatly expanded capacity for magic. The ability had trickled down through mortal blood for eight thousand years.

It was thin in many of them, but Zenov’s direct line had somehow always remained strong. Others were boring, but Zenov’s line still gave her enough of a challenge to allow her to vent her anger at his betrayal.

Her mind flashed back to the moment when she had given Zenov magic. That moment when the ambitious and kind man who had begged for the power to help his people had squandered her gift.

She had made him immortal, or at least given him the keys. But then he had traded it for four inert seeds of magic born from various beasts. The magic reeked of Freya, who had stolen Hecate’s gift to Zenov.

So rather than finding the utopia that Zenov had dreamed, she was stuck in this world with more corrupt rulers who had been given power.

That’s how it always went, for mortals and for gods. The avarice inside of them only grew the more they gained.

Her anger often consumed her, making her act rashly. She had not allowed those monstrous seeds to remain inert, instead giving them life and allowing mages to saturate them and unleash the monsters in their hearts.

Each time she awoke, she would disrupt the mages in power. They took her gift for granted.

But…

She paused, broken from her rage as she failed to sense for Zenov’s kin.

She found nothing.

“None?” Her voice cracked, which hadn’t happened since she’d found Zenov’s grave. She certainly found those that had a trickle of the blood, those that had some capacity for magic, those that had enough to hold one, two or even three seeds.

But none were strong enough to hold four. The power of the soul she had given Zenov was recognizable even at a vast distance because it held a portion of Hecate’s own godly power.

Zenov’s direct descendants were… gone.

Hecate sat down, suddenly feeling at a loss, trying to figure out what she would now do with her time in the world.

Her purpose had been to punish them, to take out the anger of her censure, Zenov’s betrayal and Freya’s schemes to isolate her on this planet.

Yet, now that Zenov’s descendants were gone, she found herself missing them.

Here, amid the world, they were the only ones who could control the true beauty. Magic in its rawest form.

Even having taken the shortcut and using Freya’s seeds, they still worked to develop their magic, giving her a unique challenge each time she awoke.

She remembered the last time she had awoken. There had been a protracted battle through a canyon, collapsing much of it as Zenov’s descendant had actually matched her briefly, delving past the simple seeds into his true capacity for magic.

She had pushed him hard before retreating. There was some hope still inside of her that her magic would rise above Freya’s petty gift. That one of the mages would embrace her magic, and her endless sleeps would not be for nothing.

One of these days she would wake to find some of her aspect in this world so she could heal.

She kept expecting to awaken to one of them having figured it out. But none had, and now in the absence of any of Zenov’s line, she felt the loss doubly.

He should have survived.

Yet it was clear he hadn’t, or hadn’t survived far past that.

Sitting in her tomb, Hecate pondered her next move.

She couldn’t leave this planet. Not with the censure in place, and she certainly wasn’t powerful enough to break free. She wouldn’t be for many millions of years at the current rate.

Hecate drummed her fingers against her red lips. “If there is no more Zenov, then I should bury this part of the world with the last of his descendants. Maybe starting over would be best. Let a bunch of neanderthals worship me for giving them fire.”

*** Present Day ***

Entangling all of the powerful mages of Hidavente, Hecate had fulfilled her promise.

After finishing with the plans in Hidavente, Hecate left the kingdom, moving through a world of shadows to The Red Steps of Garrish. The kingdom was beautiful, rich with resources and several red stumps of bedrock poked above the rest. These great plateaus were the heart of Garrish.

On one sat the great city in the sky. Lume.

Hectate stepped out from behind Martin. The man had become so gaunt and pale. “You are over exerting yourself.”

“Master!” The man practically threw himself out of his throne. “You’ve been gone so long! I feared you’d never return. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes.” A group of a dozen men spoke in the same empty tone.

There was no life in them. Their souls were cracked, and Martin had used his to fill the gaps. It was yet another example of power corrupting absolutely.

Every time.

It made Hecate’s nose wrinkle, as if a foul stench filled the room.

“Master. Please, you must help me. I need more strength. You taught me to control my soul, but now I need more. I need more soul.” Martin’s hands clenched and unclenched.

The motion was mimicked a moment later by the rest of his ‘council’.

“It’s always more. With every one of you. First you want a little, but you consume it too quickly. So unappreciative.” Hecate clicked her tongue. She had give him tools that he had abused, without her gift in his blood he had delved beyond his capabilities.

Martin rose from where he’d been kneeling. He wasn’t a short man, but he wasn’t overbearingly tall as he rose to look Hecate in the eyes. “Of course. That’s the nature of man. Avarice is not a sin! It is a very core part of being alive. To continue to want to survive and thrive is only natural!”

He swept his arms out grandly. “Look around you Master! These halls, the city that stands atop a plateau. Those are things that only exist because someone wanted more. From the gorgeous dresses you wear to the pleasant wine you drink. Someone made those. Someone made them better than the person before them because they wanted more.

“Humanity rose above the beasts because they had the ambition to reach for the stars, to stop living like animals and wallowing in the mud, to be dry, to be fat and to be happy. So we built. We created and we have ever craved more, because that is the very same avarice that pulled us from the mud.

“It’s the same thing that pushes us to innovate, to develop new magic, new metals so that we can conquer, but when that is all done those same innovations are turned into better plows and better healing once the war is over.”

Hecate wrinkled her nose. “When is it enough?”

“Never.” Martin grinned. “That’s the beauty. This splendor around you that you enjoy exists because humanity has always said ‘I will not settle’. They strove for more, for better. And in turn, you now reap the rewards. Yet you want to look down on us for it. Pretend that you are above it, free from the filth of humanity. You aren’t Master, or you would have left by now.”

His eyes shone with manic furor. He believed every word that he said.

Yet Hecate could see what lay beyond that mentality, to the eventual destruction and ruin that would follow. One day, that mentality would destroy everything they built. It may not be in Martin’s lifetime, but it was an eventuality.

“I will not give you more. If you are so innovative, then figure it out yourself.” Hecate’s voice held a chill to it. A warning.

Martin stepped back. “Then we are done here. I must return to the council and plan. The war is looking up. We’ve had several successful campaigns in the south, and it’s time to surprise them with our newest innovation. Watch, dear master, what humanity is capable of producing.”

Hecate felt no reason to stay and watch Martin’s depravations.

She stepped into the shadows once again, but not out of them.

Instead, she lingered in the shadows, sensing Zenov’s remaining descendant fighting with Valerian.

The anchor, Emlyn, skewered Valerian and made Hecate smile. Valerian was yet another example of humans that take and take. He and Martin really were united in their views in some ways.

Valerian didn’t deserve a simple ending. No, his family had killed Zenov’s descendants, and she wouldn’t let him go so easily.

Hecate’s anger flared and she decided to not remain idle.

Twisting and pushing, Hecate took control of Valerian’s body. She revived the monstrous seeds in him, and the others she planted beyond those before she’d been betrayed.

Anticipation coursed through her. How would the young mage Arden react to what he was about to see?

The shock wore off quickly, and he battled to the end. He fought alongside his anchor, working well together.

Ultimately, he was stronger than Valerian, and he walked away the victor. That should come as no surprise. His gift for magic was potent indeed. Since Zenov she hadn’t seen one of his line so bright with potential.

He moved quickly, healing those who needed it.

Hecate liked to think that Zenov would have used his magic for healing. It was a noble cause.

When Arden left to heal those that she had entangled, she watched what he’d do, curious.

To her utter shock, she found him just throwing magic around like a battering ram. No finesse, none of the magical knowledge she had seen the rest of Zenov’s descendants use over the years.

It struck her. He was truly starting anew.

She pondered her next move. When he reached his soul into the mess, she let hers tangle with him. Hecate wanted to know him more fully.

He jerked back from her, shocked at what he found.

Tilting her head, Hecate continued to watch from afar in the shadows. She wondered if she could latch onto him, pull his soul down into the same state as the others?

Yet she found a man more concerned with healing than dealing death. More concerned with building out of stone and ice than burning with fire and lightning.

Out of all the descendents she’d met, he reminded her very much of Zenov. Only in a strange way, the man didn’t want the power that he had.

She had missed Zenov’s rise, his use of his power.

Hecate pondered that fact for a moment. What would this new mage do with his powers? Would he become corrupt like all the others? She was awake now and she could watch.

From touching his soul, she knew that the greatest concern in his mind was keeping those he cared for safe.

So rather than entangle him, her soul bindings pulled back, leaving a mark on him so that she could follow him, understand how power corrupted men.

She could step back and destroy Martin, allow the world to return to peace and him to grow first.

But more often than not, chaos brought out a person’s true character.

That’s what was coming. All three of the kingdoms were going to be plunged into chaos by Martin, and she would allow it to happen. If Arden survived, she wondered what he would make from the ashes.

Maybe… she needed to watch him more closely.