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VP BK I, CH 3: Reflection
🕑 Added 2023-02-02 00:44:46 +0000 UTCChapter Three: Reflection
A five-year-old Aelius stood in front of a mirror, his father behind him, hands on his shoulders. Both were occupied by one thing; the reflection of his eyes. They shone with a bright white light that left momentary trails of cloudy dust when he moved. Honestly, their appearance was a surprise and for the last few days, young Aelius had to be confined to his bed chamber to avoid the things they showed him. His doting father, Titus Aldebrand, had taken a quick leave from his post to be with his son in this trying time. The Lord had hurried home at the news but not so fast as to have been unable to do any research into his son’s condition.
“Tell me, what do you see?” Titus asked his son.
Aelius groaned, unsure how to answer the question. He could see the mirror as well as his reflection but at the same time not and at the same time more. It was the strangest thing. When he looked at the mirror he could see the mirror for what it was. Silvered glass bound in jade. He could see what it did — bounce light back where it came thus showing what lay in front of it. He could see the individual components and at times, their histories. The man who carved the jade frame had cried as he beheld his work, his joyful triumph was imparted to it. The silvered glass was made by a separate artisan or rather the first man’s apprentice, a man who aspired to replace his master and whose ambition was the first thing captured by its silvered plane.
When he looked at his reflection, he gained, at first, a distorted look at himself. Right was left and left was right. It was a view that his eyes instantly corrected, thinking it was a mistake. However, he was just so used to the normal way that they would switch back to the mirrored look only to go back again under the assertion that the reverse view provided by the mirror was wrong. That was not the worst of it. He could see his reflection but at the same time not. His eyes told him that the image in front of him was not real. It was merely an apparition caused by the silvered undersurface of the mirror bouncing light back into his eyes. The moment he peered deeper it vanished and suddenly he was looking not at himself but at a large piece of silver-backed glass in a jade frame.
At a glance, his eyes told him everything, bombarding him with more information than he had ever wished for, more than he could reasonably process. At times it was innocuous things like the height, weight, age and density of the man behind him. However, they also tormented him with things he had no business knowing, like the fact that Vincent, one of the manor’s oldest serving and most trusted guards was also its gaoler and chief torturer. All it had taken was a meeting with the man in a corridor with his eyes open and he was inundated with the truth of what the man was and what he had done. A glance at his armour told him how many times they had been splattered with blood and the different people that blood came from. A look at his weapons and suddenly, he knew how many had been killed or suffered at their touch. Aelius was still trying to force out of his mind the sight of the murky energy that clung to the man, rising off him like a smoke signal. Discordant essence that, his eyes told him, was filled with and formed by the grudges and ill will Vincent’s victims bore him.
Sensing the boy’s inner turmoil, Titus tried a different approach. “Your eyes are very special, Aelius! They are Mystic Eyes of Truth. With them, you can see anything and everything. The things you’re seeing are just as real as you or me, even more real in your case. It will take some practice and a lot of control but soon, they will show the most precious thing the world has to offer, the truth. Legend has it that a possessor of the mystic eyes of truth can learn to see straight to the heart of the world and master all its laws. Clearly, your new power will lead you down paths of power and become the most powerful tool in your arsenal”
Patting him on the shoulder, Lord Aldebrand grinned with pride. “I look forward to your growth Aelius.”
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Aelius dragged himself back to his room, his mind filled with errant thoughts. His father was right. He was allowing this one defeat to hold him back. Since waking up, all he had done was sit around feeling sorry for himself. Revenge? That never even crossed his mind. Walking up to his dressing mirror, he stared into it. For a moment, he hesitated, afraid to activate his mystic eyes. He knew in his gut that he would not like what he was about to discover. Just before he could chicken out, he forced essence into his eyes, allowing them to awaken. Looking at himself and only himself, he saw it all.
He ignored the obvious, seeking out the changes that had occurred since his last inspection. Aelius saw his own depression. The weakness in his essence. The regression in his cultivation base. He saw to his surprise, the lack of atrophy in his muscles and wondered how his parents managed that. He read the age of his bones and baulked at the age of his soul. Frowning, he checked again. His eyes were feeding him a contradiction, his soul was both four years younger than his body and four thousand years older, maybe more. How was that possible?
‘The Void’, some part of him answered.
Biting his lip, Aelius searched for more side effects from his trip there. He found what he was looking for, a condition he identified as learned helplessness. It turned out that hanging, paralysed, in the void for an untold amount of time was bad for your mental health, who knew? He saw how it was reaching into everything in his life. Even his lack of desire for revenge. Perhaps, unconsciously, he felt that if he could be defeated and left for dead when he was at his peak, a time when he was actually stronger, wealthier and more connected than his adversary, then what could he possibly do now that his enemy seemed have found powerful backers everywhere and risen so greatly in strength, he had become the favoured son of heaven.
He sat on his bed with a sigh. ‘So this is what they mean by “a shadow in your thoughts and a demon in your heart”‘, he realised. He had always looked down on those who developed the condition, thinking them soft-hearted and weak-willed. Was he now soft-hearted and weak-willed too?
At times, mental trauma affected cultivators much worse than it did normal people. As a mortal, mental issues could affect your work, love and social life as well as send everything you cared for into disarray. If you were a cultivator, someone whose life involved going against the mandates of the heavens and handling the primal forces of the universe, these were magnified a thousand times over.
‘A shadow in your thoughts’ was a plague of self-doubt. Second guessing yourself, thinking you were not good enough, overthinking things to the point they seemed too complicated to touch: the shadow in your thoughts could do it all. It would undermine your confidence and wear away your determination almost as if you had an actual shadow following you, whispering in your ear. A demon in your heart was even worse. It was your mental trauma come back to haunt you like an enhanced version of post-traumatic stress disorder. It was more than a chink in your armour. It was a dagger piercing the skin of your heart. It became a weakness, just waiting for someone to exploit and a phobia that could be triggered at any time. This was a condition that could severely hamper cultivation progress, the demon in your heart especially. It did not just affect your everyday life, it could cause you to fail during breakthroughs and worse of all, kill you in the midst of tribulations.
Fear gripped Aelius’ heart then when he saw just how close to the edge he was. He was currently a Spirit Fusion tier cultivator, only one realm away from his next tribulation. If he did not get this demon in his heart sorted before then, he was likely a goner! But how?
Take back control! His eyes told him. You are no longer in the void. You’re no longer helpless. You can control your life. Start with one thing, anything. Change that. Then, find something else and change that too.
The first place his mind went to was Richard. That rat-faced bastard had truly done a number on him. Besides trapping him in the void, he had humiliated him, taken his fiance, harmed his family’s status, murdered his teacher and now… he stood to derail his cultivation and stall the progression of his powers. A not unfamiliar rage grew in his heart as he ruminated over what had been done to him, magnified many times over by his new insecurities. Aelius welcomed it. He fed all his worry and hate into it, directing it at his target. Clearly, the best thing to do would be to find Richard and end him, permanently. Unlike The Void, he was a tangible enemy, something he could defeat.
Unfortunately, the bastard was nowhere to be found. He had found a master in a wandering cultivator, someone even Aelius’ father could not defeat. No matter, all he would need to do was find stronger allies, or wait until Richard was separated from his master then he would make him bleed. He would pay back every bit of pain and humiliation a hundred times over.
Perhaps, had events played out differently, Aelius would spend hours thinking up ways to find, torture and destroy his hated enemy. Perhaps, had that continued, the unhealthy fixation would sink deep into his fractured psyche before taking root and warping him even further, Thankfully, Aelius was doing this in front of a mirror with his mystic eyes active. They caught sight of this seed of obsession before it had a chance to form and filled Aelius’ mind with images, and predictions of where such a path could lead. He baulked immediately, actually stepping back and away from the mirror with fear and disgust. All the rage he had built up drained away leaving him feeling empty.
‘So I cannot even focus on seeking revenge without losing myself further’, he mused, laughing mirthlessly as even this liberty was taken away from him.
‘What else is there to do?’ he asked in frustration.
His eyes showed him the answer.
Change yourself!
A tremor went through Aelius’ mind. He felt his comprehension expand as he contemplated those words. Unbidden, his innate spirit, the chimaera, appeared behind him. Acting partly on instinct and partly on some inspiration he got from The Void, he let the light of his mystic eyes shine on the phantom. Information flowed from his eyes and from the many worlds he had seen in the void. The memories might be buried but the knowledge they held was freely accessed by his mystic eyes.
In the light of truth, Aelius saw his spirit for what it truly was. The chimaera was destruction incarnate. Child of not one but two titans, it was a daemon of incredible potential. Its mere presence could cause earthquakes and volcanic eruptions. It was a living disaster, a creature born with the destiny of destroying the world. Sadly, its growth was often cut short, hampered by its own brutal nature. Seldom did it rise to the task. Often, it was vanquished by those who saw the threat it posed or worse, it got caught in the wake of its destruction. Compared to the true beasts he saw in The Void, Aelius’ innate chimaera spirit was akin to a pale shadow reflected in a muddy pool. Still, it had most of the right elements. Laws of strength, destruction, fire and earth were woven throughout its form.
Aelius had always counted himself as special. His clan was descended from a great hero who vanquished a chimaera and saved an ancient kingdom. For his great deed, his line was endowed with the chimaera’s spirit. Aelius’ branch of the clan was renowned for its powers over fire. Their primary inheritance was the chimaera’s [Flame of Ruin], a mystical flame with incredible destructive potential. Depending on the density of their bloodline, other branches had comparable inheritances, like the powerful, [Quaker’s Pulse]. Aelius himself had always been praised for possessing a particularly potent flame and bloodline. However, when he looked at himself in the mirror, he only saw how he was lacking in comparison to a true chimaera. His fire was fine but his earth talent was minor at best. With the image of the ideal held steady in his mind, he reached in deep.
Guided by power and knowledge he should not have, Aelius changed himself. His essence surged to the high heavens, temporarily going out of control as his new power asserted itself. It gained a thready beat that grew stronger with each pulse, emanating outward. The mirror shattered and the ground shook, cracking in parts. Soon, it felt like the whole manor estate was shaking, caught in the grips of an earthquake.
Aelius smiled to himself. He still had a long way to go but as far as changes went, this was a good start.
