HTG - Chapter 196

Kalon

Chapter One-Hundred-Ninety-Six: Anakor - Part Three

Planet: Etheria

Time passes slowly as Ioquin patiently answers my questions. In some ways she reminds me of my mother when I was a boy. She used to be this patient with me as well.

“So, you’re saying that the first bound doesn’t decide if someone will walk the Netheric or the Etheric?”

She nods, speaking into my mind.

The first bound only gives one the understanding of the forces that are around them. In the second they decide which path they shall follow.

“What determines their ability to use Netheric or Etheric?”

She muses it for a time, moving slowly in the hallway with me, she peers out at the expanse of Etheria beyond the thick glass windows.

Part of it is fate, part of it is their own wants and desires. It is rare to see Netheric users who are born for it in this age. Most people when they try to use the Netheric they become corrupted by it rapidly.

“Krothaspawn… why do they call the corrupted ones this?”

They were not always called Krothaspawn. They were once called as you know them, Shulka. Those that are bonded to the darkness. They who lose themselves in the insanity of the void where most Netheric mana resonates with. Most souls are not meant to wield the corrupted side of mana.

“How do you mean?” I ask, looking out with her, the land sprawls. As far as I can tell, the outpost we are in, it is high above the surface, held by massive beams of thick alloys. There are hundreds of pods and halls that I can see from the other windows. So far I have not met anyone though. The designs at first glance appeared like the Colosseum facility, but inspecting closer, they are not. There are runes written along the edges and in the corners of the glass. Ones that seem to pull the maka and hold it in.

A person can walk either path, Krotha is a testament to that truth. Whether they can retain their sanity though, that is a different argument.

“She was a god though,” I say, thinking on it, “Surely that means it was easier for her to understand it.”

On a fundamental level, yes. However, her sacrifice was not without risk. To walk the other path, she forsook her godhood and started anew.

I blink, “She became a mortal?”

Ioquin nods, moving at a steady pace.

“Why did she do it?”

She sought an old power, one that is buried in the Netheric bounds. She believed that if she became a Netheric god she could tame Dashkatul and balance the fates herself, since she believed that Akronos was a myth passed on by the old gods to scare the new. She believed it was her destiny to free Zarae and inherit her power.

“What kind of power?”

One that would allow her to challenge fate. She tried to become more than a god, for all the right reasons, as far as I could tell.

“She succeeded in becoming a Netheric god, what happened next?”

She did not realize that she was not suited for the Netheric. It tainted her mind and corrupted her soul. During that time she mastered her Legacy. A legacy which could challenge fate, when that happened she did not have to seek Dashkatul, it sought her instead. She thought it was because she succeeded, but did not realize that the fates put it in her path until it was too late. Before her body died, she killed many gods and doomed many worlds to the Netheric path. That is why they call them Krothaspawn now. In an attempt to erase your people, and vilify their gods.  

She shakes her head.

Of all the holders that came after me, she was the only one before you that woke me. Not because she tried to balance mana like you, but because she tried so hard to open it. Because she thought that her path was good and just. She was obsessed with freeing Zarae. She held out for longer than most, but Dashkatul does not care about intentions. She eventually fell to it as all others before her. In her madness, she enslaved us in our fractured states to be her minions of darkness.

“You speak of the Cursed Edict as though it were alive?”

Her eyes slant at me for a moment.

Because it is, in a way. It has wants and desires that I’m sure you’ve felt. One does not wield the blade of the fates and not feel its hunger.  

My brow furrows thinking on the bloodlust I felt when Dallus and his warriors tried to kill Luna. I remember wanting to kill everyone in the city and give them to the blade. Yet now that it resides in my chest, it does not even whisper anything to me.  

“Why isn’t it effecting me?”

I don’t know the exact reason behind it. But if I had to guess, based on the Myths surrounding Akronos, Dashkatul was yours once. In your first known incarnation during the first age. It was said that you wielded a spear that could rend the cosmos. One that was carved from your soul’s intention. The core of it was lost to time. That is why many who believe the myths of Akronos believe that they alone can open Dashkatul.

“What do you believe?”

She pauses, turning to look at me for a moment, weighing her words.

I believe that regardless of its origins, you alone can shatter it. Whether it is yours or not. You are the will of mana itself. The embodiment of lost souls and the regrets they had. There is no greater power once realized.

She tilts her head, and her eyes glow a little brighter.

If you become a full incarnation of Akronos, there will be nothing that can stand in your path.

Her words chill me for a moment, making me ask, “Who was this Akronos?”

It is said that in the beginning there were two primordial gods, that which is… and that which is not. From them the spirits of old came into existence, the ones that were the first to breathe life into the universe. From their creations, the ancient gods rose, and they were replaced by my ilk, the ones you know as the old gods. Then came the next generation, the ones who rule now.

She stops and stares out the window at the starlight above.

When people die, their souls return to the Well of Souls as I told you before. Souls must first pass through the void before the Well of Souls returns them to the realm of mortals. Pieces of them fall into the great void. A darkness so deep that even gods dare not venture into it. It is the hunting grounds of the creatures of old. A place that light does not dwell…

She turns, her eyes brilliantly glowing green.

Save one light, Akronos. The one that all lost dreams take shelter with. When the desires of the souls that leave the mortal realm become greatly unbalanced, it gives rise to Akronos, calling them from the darkness to balance the light. However strong the injustice is, so too shall their power reflect it. When your mother went to find you in the Well of Souls, she must have traversed the void to find you. I do not think she intended to subvert fate and allow Akronos to rise. I think above all she just wanted her son back, your name meaning balance is perhaps just chance.

She lowers her head.

Such a beautiful thing is rarely seen amongst my kind. There are few that have existed which would give up their godhood for the sake of their child. Gods are not usually like mortals in that sense. I think that Akronos saw that and felt for the first time in more than an age the state of the Realm of Mortals and was called by the void to balance it.

“Why did they not come sooner?”

My only guess is that the fates found a way to make them sleep for longer than they ought. Which in turn has allowed them to become exceptionally strong in this Age. But when Kuwathi awoke Akronos with her sacrifice, they could not sleep again until their work was finished. Akronos cannot look away from the cries of countless souls.

“If I am Kuwathi’s son, how too can I be this Akronos, I don’t understand how it works…”

Your soul is that of her son, taken back from the void and the Well of Souls before it was meant to be. When she pulled it out, the will of Akronos became part of you too.

“I don’t understand…”

Akronos is not like a normal flesh and blood person. It can choose anyone. It can be anyone. We call it Akronos to give it a name. For in our oldest tongue it means, that which will be. The one that changes fate’s path and balances destiny.

“You speak in riddles.”

No, young one, I speak plainly, you just don’t know enough yet to understand it. In time though, everything I have said will make sense.

“These primordial gods you spoke of, did they make Akronos?”

She smiles and shakes her head.

According to the myths, Akronos is the inevitability of imbalance. Born from the mana itself. In a way, they are the will of mana made manifest.

My head aches at everything she has said. I think I understand her meanings. Believe them though? I am not sure. She speaks of myths. Such things are not always as simple as their stories imply.

What troubles you, young one?

I sigh, “There are many things to remember, I wonder which are needed, and which I can ponder later.”

She smiles and turns to look at a spire in the distance.

What have you decided to rebuild now that you are fresh, Etheric or Netheric bounds?

“The Etheric so that I might blend… unless I can do both types like you saw me do in a past life… whatever that means.”

One should not rush into both until one understands both.

I look at her fully, “What are you suggesting?”

You delved into the Netheric before, it was easy for you to rise before with them. Easier now with Starmaker. But if you train both, even if you succeed, the Etheric will be passed by the Netheric leaving you unbalanced. I think even with your special body you will die. Not because it is impossible for you to hold both, but because you’re not ready for both yet.

“Train the Etheric and then reset them to train both eventually?”

She nods.

Though the choice is yours. This is your life.

“What happens if I die?”

She looks down, her brow furrowed.

I think so too shall hope in this age. Perhaps you will rise stronger in the next though. Such things I cannot predict. Regardless…

She smiles.

Try not to die.

A whisp of green energy disperses her into shadow once more. The door in front of me is open. A hundred paces away, deep in meditation is Solara. I have not really had a chance to speak with her much since before I killed Adonius. The unfulfilled promise I gave her lingers in my mind. The one to remove her runes related to her goddess… Leora.

I wonder if it is still possible as I am now.

Her vibrant red eyes slowly open to greet me.

“Kalon,” she says softly, her voice is confident yet smooth.

Her eyes trace me slowly as mine trace her. Reminding me that I once questioned if I would have cared for her if she had met me before Luna. A question that she posed to me. I look away as I ponder it again.

Pushing the thought from my mind, I turn to the wall, looking at all the weapons that adorn it. This is a training room. Fitting for someone like her, and even Arrum. Though I wonder now what he meant about training in the mines to the north.

“Solara,” I begin, but before I can finish the air rushes around me and I feel the point of a blade in my side. Not so deep that blood wets it, but enough that I know she could have had it so.

“So… you really did lose your bounds,” she says releasing the pressure and putting the blade back in the hilt.

“You could have asked,” I reply, turning to look at her fully. Her deep red hair smells of flowers and perfume even from here.

She sighs, “You’ll need to work hard to get them back, I still want a rematch, when you’re ready of course.”

“I’m ready now,” I say, wishing to test my body’s limits.

“You’re not,” she breaths, “But if you need someone to prove it, I have some time to kill.”

I grin at her, and she grins back.