The Esoteric Design Read online

  “This is the place?” Aria muttered under her breath. She eyeballed the man next to her.

  “Seems so.” Troy looked over his shoulder at the hilltop where he and Aria had earlier landed from their HALO jump.

  The two stood before an ancient structure–one destroyed thousands of years ago. It was in a gothic style; towering steeples decorated the rooftops with sharp angles and intricate designs. The flying buttresses gave the illusion the fortress had wings. Parts of the arrangement were decayed, falling to pieces into the grey waters below. It seemed at one time these walls were white, but now were stained with the ash and blood of war. The bridge before the two militants, who stood gaping at the scene, was elongated above the stream connecting about four hundred meters away to the entrance of the building. Bulbous clouds of white and grey threatened the chance of rain upon their heads, partially hiding the joyful light of the sun. Needless to say, this kingdom wasn’t near what it used to be. Its extravagant beauty was now that of a corpse whose memory was also fading away into oblivion.

  “Well, shall we?” Troy held out an arm for the young woman.

  “We shall.” She cocked her head to the side, still scrutinizing the ancient ruins.

  Together they walked across the thin bridge, leery of the places missing support beams and those bearing holes. Both thought quietly to themselves about how this trip had better be worth it. They had to drop from the Hawk 90, passing storm clouds only the suicidal would think of going through, and had to travel for kilometers across rough terrain, avoiding creatures that modern text systems lacked a definition for. Not to mention, Ives was an abandoned continent. No souls were ever granted access to this place under any circumstances, except theirs, of course. And it was all for the sake of ending up at some ancient ruins with the possibility of never being able to return home if Gavin wasn’t capable of ever finding an entry point for his copter, let alone figuring out where the two militants were located seeing as their GPS systems were no longer tracking on the isolated island.

  They approached the monstrous door made of stone with wooden designs beaten into it, all precious gems and gold removed after the fall of the empire. The door was heavy and slow to move but nothing a hard shove from Troy couldn’t solve. The woman watched contently as he struggled to squeeze through the tiny gap.

  “Look at this place,” Aria whispered as she slid in closely behind Troy. It was dark and damp inside the structure, the trickling of water echoed through the massive hall. There was a soft roar in the distance–that of a gushing waterfall. Aria grinned with excitement. It was like something from a dream. She couldn’t wait to explore this place. Light flooded in the center of the room from a small hole in the roof. Ghostlike dust particles floated through the beam like a fog. She took a couple of steps forward, staring at the arched ceiling at least thirty meters distance from the ground. Undecipherable writings and frescos imprinted the walls. Squinting her eyes, Aria leaned forward but stopped mid-step as she felt herself being tugged backward. “W-what?” she asked, confused.

  “….” Troy had one hand on her shoulder, holding her still. The other hand pressed a pointed finger to his lips, telling her to stay quiet. His eyes wandered to a dark corner behind a marble pillar. Her eyes followed his. She widened them once she heard the voice.

  “Гrēxŧ, μērçℓфϋλ 'nln.” A tall, dark figure materialized from the black shadows. The voice was deep and rich, speaking in a tongue that was unrecognizable. “€ nϋμæλē μ'ßēλф æēфörē 'öϋ.” The words were foreign indeed, but the way it sent chills down Aria’s spine made her realize it was a language no longer used by anyone on the planet–a forgotten language, an ancient language.

  The figure walked toward the light, his hands were supine and lifting. He was wearing a robe, dark in color like ash. A scarlet coat sat atop the clothing with a large hood that hid the man’s features, the long sleeves and drapes hiding the rest of him. Thick strands of the material crossed over his torso, wrapping around the waist beneath an armored waistband and dangling down toward his feet. The dirty fabric of his matching red cape dragged slowly behind the man, creating a cloud of dust as he moved.

  Was he a priest watching over this ancient cathedral?

  Troy and Aria were silent, not knowing whether it was a good idea or not to interrupt the man. Ives was supposed to be abandoned; no man was allowed to live here. They watched a moment longer. Troy held his breath once the figure froze. There was no more speaking, no sound at all. The mysterious figure stood a moment, staring at the light from the ceiling. Slowly, his head fell down, turning to look over his shoulder.

  “Ŝℓњфϋλ ŧnℓēвēß,” the man mumbled a couple words as he turned. He was shrouded in darkness. Only one feature could be seen: he had the palest of blue eyes. They seemed to glow the way the moon did on a cloudless night. He tilted his head, observing the two intruders. That was when Aria noticed he was monstrous in height.

  “Um…hi,” Troy managed to speak. A small wave was gestured toward the stranger. Aria elbowed her partner in the ribcage, rewarding her with a short, dissatisfied grunt.

  “€δℓöŧ,” the man muttered some more.

  “You live here?” Aria asked quietly. She doubted he could understand a thing she said. This man apparently hadn’t seen civilization in a long time.

  The tall stranger stared at his wrist. The robed sleeves slid down his forearm, revealing a metallic armband with intricate designs and glowing lights. He poked at it a moment. A small chime sounded, echoing down the massive hall.

  “Of course,” the man replied. His voice was low like a hum when he spoke their vernacular. He had a regal sounding accent, was a pro at the dialect. “Legacy isn’t the only language I know.”

  “Legacy?” Troy and Aria glanced at each other.

  “That’s what you were speaking just then?” Troy asked the tall man. He appeared to be at least two head lengths taller than Troy, and Troy wasn’t exactly a short man.

  The foreign man did not speak. He turned away, walking back toward the light. He stared upwards, letting the beam cross his face.

  “What brings you here?” he asked finally. “I’m afraid there is no treasure left. It was all pillaged thousands of years ago. Probably all decayed themselves by now.”

  ‘How old is this guy?’ Aria and Troy shared the same thought.

  “We came for some information,” Aria spoke up.

  “Of what? The texts here are all in Legacy. You won’t be able to understand a word of it. There are few translation books in your language, but I doubt they are what you seek.” The man soaked up the light, as if drinking water.

  “We were told to come here. That we could find some answers,” Aria offered.

  “And what answers are you seeking? Perhaps I can be of assistance?” he muttered dryly. He didn’t seem interested in them at all.

  “Well, it’s kind of hard to explain, you see,” Aria sputtered about incoherent words. The man sighed irritably.

  “We came to gather information on the enemy.” Troy stepped forward. The stranger glanced to the side acknowledging that he was listening. “Aria and I are at war. We–”

  “War with what?” He closed his eyes.

  “These beasts, we have no idea where they came from.” Troy talked with his hands. He struggled to explain what kind of creatures they had faced at the I.R.B.

  “What type of beasts?” Icy-blue eyes glared.

  “…Demons.” Aria joined Troy’s side. Her partner gave her a bewildered look.

  “Demons?” The dark man chuckled.

  “I guess you could say we’re on a full out war with Hell,” Troy scoffed, giving up on trying to sound logical.

  “Hell….” The man was silent a moment, deep in thought. “Then that means the veil’s been torn?”

  “Veil?” Troy and Aria questioned.

  “But it can’t be. It’s too early. Or is it already that time?” he mumbled to himself, seeming to have forgotten the other two
were in the room. “That would prove the prophecy correct, however….”

  He glanced at the two, anger in his eyes. Aria took a step back.

  “You damn Homo sapiens. What have you done now?” The foreigner clenched his jaw, squeezing the bridge of his nose in irritation. “Haven’t you had enough war for this lifetime?”

  “Whoa, wait a minute,” Aria breathed a nervous laugh, “you just called us Homo sapiens.”

  “That’s correct,” he stated nonchalantly as if the other two were complete idiots.

  “What the hell does that make you then?” Troy folded his arms. He was beginning to think this man before him was a little nuts.

  “I,” the stranger held his arms out into the light, “am a Sorcēarian.”

  “Sorcēarian.” Aria raised an eyebrow. “As in the ancient race from thousands of years ago?”

  The man nodded in response.

  “Ridiculous.” Troy gave a snort. “I can’t believe we came all the way here for a crazy man.”

  “A useful, crazy man.” The supposed Sorcēarian nodded. For how intimidating the Sorcēarian was, he sure did have a strange sense of humor.

  “There are no more Sorcēarians. They were all killed in the war a long time ago.” Aria gave him a look of disbelief. “Who are you really?”

  “My name is Dovian, son of Gaius III, civilian of Ives, warrior of the Sorcēarian Empire, Scarlet status.” He bowed his head slightly.

  “And how old are you supposed to be?” Aria decided to play along.

  “Too many years have gone by.” Dovian thought a moment. “What year is it?”

  Giving in to the question, Aria answered, “Mille 19.”

  “Mille 19. You mean nineteen millennium? What’s the exact date?” Dovian asked.

  “Um, 19,999 S.F.” She shrugged.

  “S.F.” Dovian smirked. “Then I suppose I am a little over seventeen millennium,” he replied dryly.

  “Right….” Troy rolled his eyes. “Well, if you don’t mind, we’ll be leaving now.” He grabbed Aria’s arm and tugged her toward the door.

  “What are you doing?” she asked through gritted teeth.

  “We’re leaving. This man’s a nut,” he replied aloud.

  “Not a nut,” Dovian retorted, “a sorcerer.”

  Troy and Aria stopped.

  “Then prove it, nut job.” Troy spun around quickly, his shouldered weapon thumping against his back.

  “If you wish.” The man named Dovian gave Troy a stern look. He extended his arm, palm out. A loud scraping sounded from the corner of the room. In a flash, a large rod grated across the stone floor and landed smoothly into his hands.

  “Nice trick.” Troy nodded, still skeptical.

  “Troy,” Aria growled, nudging him in the ribs once again. She saw a smile cross Dovian’s face as he turned toward the light. He shouted something in Legacy and pointed his staff directly at Troy’s chest. A crystalline ball sat at the tip of the silver pole, set between two tall sets of golden metallic wings. The orb brilliantly flashed for a split-second, like lightning.

  BAM!

  Troy was sent flying ten meters back against the heavy door of the fortress, the impact slamming it closed. He hit the ground hard, his arms and body limp.

  “Troy!” Aria shouted. She reached for the rifle slung over her shoulder.

  “Nah-ah.” Dovian brought the tip of the rod down hard on her hand. Aria cursed, rubbing the backside of her already bruising appendage. She looked over her shoulder fearfully at her companion who was stumbling to get back to his feet.

  “Very…nice…trick.” Troy wheezed for air. “Damn Sorcēarian.”

  Dovian stood before the two, light cascading behind him, giving him an ethereal glow. His eyes held a hint of amusement, one that said: “I told you so.”

  “But I thought you all were extinct.” Aria frowned.

  “We are,” the man replied in a low tone. “I am the lucky sole survivor of my race.” He set his staff onto the ground and released his hand. The weapon stood upright by itself, waiting for its master.

  “That’s terrible.” Aria placed an arm around Troy to help give him support.

  “Could be worse,” Dovian muttered as he looked cautiously about the room. He appeared paranoid that someone was listening. “I could have died as well, and then there would be no one to help you defeat the enemy,” he almost whispered.

  “Then that means you’ll help us?” Troy asked. He hissed in pain when Aria gave him assistance to lean against one of the nearby pillars. Not only was his pride damaged, but so was his tailbone.

  “Not quite.” Dovian stared into nothingness. “You see, I can’t choose sides.”

  “Why is that?” Aria asked, disappointed. He did not reply. He only stared into her eyes; the look froze the woman in her place. After a moment, he nodded slowly to himself.

  Dovian took a step back into the light he had been earlier enjoying. He lowered his head. His hands clenched as he held onto his chest and breathed in heavily. Aria and Troy watched curiously. The Sorcēarian chanted in his ancient language once again. His hands squeezed tighter and tighter, tugging at the cloth around his torso. His voiced resonated with a low growl as he spoke. There was a sickening pop like bones breaking. His veins bulged violently as he hummed. The couple warily eyed each other.

  “Λℓгnŧ,” a guttural sound emitted from the man’s throat.

  There was a whooshing resonance followed by a nasty split. The man curved forward, the robe he wore moved about his back. Up and down the cloth traveled and out sprouted a wing from the man’s backside–a giant wing like that of an angel’s. It was adorned with feathers of white and silver and glittered in the sunlight. There was only one appendage; where was the other?

  “Do…most sorcerers have wings?” Troy swallowed hard.

  “This is light,” Dovian murmured. “But there is more.” He stepped to the side, splitting his body in half by the beam of light and the dark shadow of the cathedral. He fell forward again, a similar chant commenced. Aria and Troy watched in interest once again until silence followed. Dovian’s hand fell to the ground, nails digging into the stone.

  “Δxrk,” a frightening voice deeper than anything Aria or Troy had ever heard called out.

  There was another noise, and a second wing popped from the other side of the man’s back. It was the polar opposite of the first, pitch-black. There were no feathers but scales instead. A thick ivory horn stuck out of the tip of the wing. Aria and Troy gaped at the flapping set. A soft chuckle sounded; it gave the woman goosebumps. Dovian’s eyes glittered in the darkness like diamonds refracting light.

  “This is why I can’t choose sides,” Dovian’s voice echoed in his own chest. His eyes were chilling in the darkness. “I am both sides.”

  The two were speechless. The man just sprouted wings out of his back. He was half-demon, half-angel. Was this man in an all out war with himself?

  ‘Half-man, half-beast,’ Aria thought to herself, her mouth open.

  “Proof enough of my heritage?” He turned his evil gaze toward Troy.

  “Proof enough.” The young man pushed away from the pillar to stand upright.

  “I heard that there was a Sorcēarian once…who could manipulate both light and dark.” Aria thought of a fairytale she read as a child. “But that was just a story, was it not?”

  “Many had the powers to manipulate both, but almost all found themselves slaves to the power once transformed.” Dovian lowered his gaze. “I, for one, have difficulties.”

  “Did something bad happen?” Aria asked. Troy watched the woman. Why did she pity this man? Dovian didn’t just get hit halfway across the fortress.

  “You could say that.” His eyes lifted. He held his hands out to his side. He looked left and then right, taking in his surroundings. “My home.”

  “You did this?” the woman gasped. “How could you? You destroyed your own people?”

  “It’s one of the many things that come wit
h the package of being a Sorcēarian. You’re left with too many choices and too many desires. Perhaps we were a race meant for extinction, but I will not fall…not until I’ve redeemed myself.” The man sighed, tugging his arms inward. He glanced through the hole in the ceiling; the light was fading away to the dark clouds overhead. “Once consumed by either light or dark, I can lose control. What I do is not always my decision.” The light dissipated, his angel wing turning into a dark grey. Rapidly decaying, the white and fluffy feathers charred and began to fall to the floor one after another.

  “I change to what my mood is…or whatever the weather decides. For now, it says darkness.” His eyes closed as the final feathers evaporated, and his angel wing began to fester and turn black.

  “W-what do we do if you change into a demon?” Aria slowly began to raise her weapon, worried about this new transformation.

  “I would suggest getting away from me by at least a twenty-five kilometer radius.” Dovian smirked, revealing a white fang out of the corner of his mouth. His hands clenched, and he grunted as the wings projected back into his dorsal side. “No worries. I can control the urges much better than when I was a mere…child.” They all stood in silence, Dovian taking steady breaths as he ended his theatrics. He remained where the daylight had previously been. As there was no light to see by, Dovian waved a hand over his staff. A burst of flame erupted inside the crystal ball.

  “You did this when you were a child?” Aria glanced at the fallen pillars and crushed statues covering the marble floor. Dovian only looked about innocently.

  “Oh, this? That was nothing.” He cocked his head to the side. “Sorcēarians have unique strengths. A child of your kind is vastly different than a child of my kind. And a child to us isn’t perceived the same as a child to you.”

  Aria only wondered what his potential was now that he was over seventeen thousand years old.

  There was a skittering sound in the corner. Aria lifted her head, her thoughts extinguished. Dovian followed her actions. His brow furrowed.