The Esoteric Design: Civilization Lost Read online

  After a second of debate, the boy smirked and leaned forward, balancing the pool stick between his fingers. With careful aim, he took another shot. Two striped balls dropped into opposite corners. His smile widened. Lita cheered.

  “Whoo! That was a good one! You’re getting better.” She walked to the other side of the table as the boy repositioned.

  Lita scanned the room. There were roughly twenty children with her that afternoon. It was a busy day. A small cluster busied themselves with playing a few ancient arcade games that Lita had salvaged from an old storage unit. A group of girls chatted at a table, drinking what they thought was caffeinated coffee. Lita didn’t indulge that it was decaf. A young teenage couple sat on a pile of lumpy cushions, reading to one another. And in the corner, were all the children under the age of seven. They scribbled in coloring books, played with puzzles and blocks, all while listening to the large, elegant Martelle as he read a children’s book. The children’s favorite choices were Sorcēarian literature—stories of Piddles and the duckling and a collection of shorts about the mysterious Ferals.

  Lita’s smile widened. Martelle often appeared callous toward others, but he had an enormous soft spot for children. With all the turmoil around the world, Martelle became particularly stressed. It was in moments like these that Lita got to see her old friend open up. He was a different man when children were involved, which was why she forced him to work at her church. Sometimes, how Martelle smiled when he held a child’s hand reminded her that she could be a mother someday. And regardless of her attitude toward Martelle and how he frustrated her more times than not, her mind hadn’t completely left him out of the picture as a potential suitor. The woman shook her head, quickly dismissing the idea. No, Martelle was far too complicated and dry for her tastes.

  ‘Quiet, ovaries!’ she thought.

  She thanked the sudden interruption to her thought pattern as it was her turn to rack the new game of pool. The boy had ended up finishing his round before Lita got another chance at it.

  “I told you. Getting better each time,” Lita laughed.

  The boy shrugged and ran his fingers through his hair with a cocky smile. “Well, I have a good teacher.” His eyelashes fluttered as he spoke.

  Lita’s face had fallen for only a split-second before she forced an innocent smile. She would never get used to young teenage boys and their hormones. When hanging out with a bunch of kids that age, Lita quickly learned not to focus in on their minds.

  As she rearranged the pool balls in the rack, a sudden blister of pain alerted her to a danger that quickly approached her church. Lita raised her head, looking to Martelle. The man was already at his feet, quietly rushing toward the door with a hand held out toward her. Before he reached the entrance, there was a loud bang, the heavy doors swinging open. A group of five men dressed in black, wearing various Halloween masks, entered the room and aimed their automatic rifles.

  “Lita!” Martelle shouted as he waved a hand in the air to summon a bubble of light which encased him. His shield protected against the sudden onslaught of bullets. Martelle clasped his hands, grumbling a spell, and then pushed his open palms out to the side, summoning a temporary wall between him and the others.

  “Everyone follow me!” Lita shouted.

  Luckily for her, the teenagers helped gather the smaller children. They all ran for the back exit but were brought to a halt as the back door was also kicked in. More men rushed toward them. Lita felt time slow as she summoned her dark energy, sending a shock wave toward the intruders that sent them onto their backs. It was a move she had learned from watching Euclid and Dovian practice. Her power was weak compared to the Scarlet warriors, but it was enough to slow down a group of violent humans. One man kept firing as he went down, and Lita felt the searing pain of a bullet slice across her shoulder. As she dodged the next shot, she summoned a shield like Martelle’s.

  Lita looked back, her heart pounding in her ears. None of the children were hurt, but Martelle slowly backed away from the men at the front. His shield quickly deteriorated against the constant flow of rapid fire.

  “Martelle!” Lita screamed.

  He glanced back, a look of sheer terror on his face. Grimacing, he spared his right hand to engulf Lita and the others in one massive globe of light. Lita quickly did the same, adding to the shield’s strength.

  “Do it now!” Martelle yelled.

  Lita shook her head, silent. He wanted her to activate her frequency tuner. With all those encased in the protective shield, she could teleport herself and the children back to Ives. It was a power that required the use of two Sorcēarians, taught by Dovian and Karter. Lita never thought she’d actually have to use the skill. With Martelle being across the room, he was too far from the teleportation shield. He wouldn’t be traveling with them. She closed her eyes, channeling her energy to slow down time around her, to gather a moment to think.

  “Lita!” Martelle’s panicked voice reminded her that even with slower time, it still was not enough.

  She watched him, her heart pounding in her chest, as he gave her a look of desperation. His walls slowly disintegrated against the gunfire, splinters of light bursting around him. He was straining, draining all his light into the protection spells, his irises dulling to a stony shade.

  “Please,” he said with a quiet exhale. His quaking whisper reached Lita’s ears with nothing but silence surrounding it.

  With a wrinkling frown, Lita twisted the knob on her tuner. In a flash, she and the children disappeared. The shields in the center of the room went with her, and after a few more seconds of gunfire, Martelle’s guard ruptured, glittering sparks dancing to the floor. He spun, his hand reaching for his tuner. One, two, three, he lost count as the bullets penetrated his body. It didn’t feel like he always imagined. It was intense at first, but he quickly felt numb as he dropped. His entire body jolted upon his crash to the earth. It was jarring, but–just like his pain–within a second he and everything he had ever known faded into oblivion.

  ***

  Dovian quickly scribbled across the lengthy parchment that lay across Sir Gaius’ desk. The pen he used was old-fashioned in nature with a long black and gold feather attached to one end. As he signed his name, the ink shimmered with gold light. Sir Gaius lifted the document, scanning over his great-grandson’s name. He smiled and rolled up the item. After sealing it with thick crimson wax pressed by a feather emblem, the Elder handed the scroll to Dovian. To the side stood Kitara, the bird’s eyes watching the scene as she recorded the meeting.

  “Upon completion of signing this document, I hereby declare you, Dovian, at temporary rest of your Scarlet duties. Your color will be called upon at your request or until a dire act of war requires it, whichever is to come first. Until then, you’ve been granted the task of continuing your teaching status as a biologist and trainer. Your meeting with the Dean will commence tomorrow morning at the time of ten. You will develop a steady regimen and are encouraged to consider taking up more courses.” Gaius cleared his throat, waving to the owl. Kitara promptly shook her head, screeched, and made her leave through an open window.

  “I hope you enjoy your time off. You’ve certainly had a rough patch these past couple hundred,” Sir Gaius spoke more casually with no longer being on the record.

  Dovian gave a small nod as he pressed his fist against his chest. “I appreciate you granting me this request. I hate to sound like I’m giving up on my duties, but there are a few things I need to take care of that are important to me.”

  Sir Gaius held up a hand. “You mean…you have a life to live?”

  Dovian smirked. “Perhaps.”

  “And a lovely lady to woo,” the Elder softly spoke while raising an eyebrow.

  Dovian gave an awkward laugh. “Uh, yeah. Something like that.”

  “I’ve heard the rumors.” The older man straightened back into an authoritative stance. Dovian hardened his own posture, clearing his throat. “I’Lanthe of Violet status?”

>   Dovian’s lips pressed tightly together. “Yes, sir.”

  “The great-granddaughter of Narita?” Gaius continued.

  “Yes, sir,” Dovian promptly answered. He kept his eyes forward. After a far too long silence, he brought his eyes to the Elder.

  Sir Gaius looked lost in thought with a crooked smirk on his face. Dovian’s expression softened into a look of wonder. As the older man recognized Dovian’s stare, he gave a quick wink. “Then I approve.”

  Dovian felt a wave of curiosity wash over him.

  Sir Gaius chuckled and walked toward the open window, his shimmering stare setting on the horizon. “I’ve got time before my next appointment, go ahead and ask your questions. It’s been far too long since you’ve bombarded me with them.”

  “Bombarded?” Dovian asked with a soft laugh. “Was I so curious?”

  “Always.”

  “Surely not as bad as Lita.”

  Sir Gaius looked back. “Sometimes worse.”

  Dovian hung his head, groaning. He eyed the portrait of his late great-grandmother. “Do you still miss her?”

  “Every day,” Gaius whispered as he watched the clouds.

  “Do you ever regret it?”

  Gaius turned, giving Dovian a look most curious. “Not ever. Why would you ask?”

  Dovian shrugged. “I worry sometimes.”

  “About hurting the ones you love?”

  “Yes. What if I die? What if they die?”

  “Do you ever regret your mother living?” Gaius asked.

  Dovian’s eyes widened. “No, sir. I can’t imagine the world without her.”

  “Then believe me when I say that those you love and those who love you would never regret you being in their lives, no matter what lies ahead, Dovian. One of the things we, as a race, often don’t realize is that everything dies. Sure, we don’t often get sick. We don’t easily perish. If contained in a protective bubble, one could claim we would live forever. But what would be the point?” Gaius sat on the windowsill, folding his arms. “What’s the point of living without the threat of death breathing down our necks? Think of what else we would take for granted if none of us died. Would we ever truly love one another? Would we truly cherish all that was around us—the little moments, the small talks, the laughter, arguments, the pain, and love?”

  “I understand, but where’s the harm in wishing to keep the woman I love safe?” Dovian asked.

  “It’s a bold and noble idea, Dovian, but one that is far too foolish. You can’t keep anyone safe forever. But…you can try your best to love them until the very end. Instead of worrying about hurting a loved one, why don’t you twist your thinking?” Sir Gaius looked at the oil painting of his wife.

  “Twist my thinking?”

  “Rather than live your days in fear and playing the safe game, why don’t you try living life to the fullest? In all aspects. That woman you love? Love her every day, the best you can. That book you’ve always wanted to read? Read it. That task you always dreamed of accomplishing? Do it. No excuses, no lies, no regrets. Just live. Live and love hard. Eat that damn slice of cake if it tastes good. Buy that blasted bauble that you keep thinking about. Kiss that person that you keep debating on kissing.” Gaius moved to the front of his desk, his gaze locked on the painting.

  “We take life for granted, Dovian. More so than humans do. You see? We live so long. Our ways spoil us. We’ve created an irrational fear of death. Our plentiful lifestyles have caused us to be too cautious, even with time often on our side. Humans, they live a blink of an eye’s worth compared to us. Could you imagine your life already played out over a thousand times by now? What are you waiting for when it comes to living? For death to arrive so that you can regret running away from all the important decisions you never made? Don’t live like that, boy. It’s not living.”

  Dovian remained quiet. He felt senseless. Sir Gaius was always right. Even if it was the whisper in Dovian’s mind, he still doubted his happiness until his great-grandfather assured him it was alright to feel.

  “And you don’t need my permission to be happy, either.” Gaius eyed him sideways. “You’re so much like your father sometimes.”

  “My…father?” Dovian asked, amazed.

  “Well, when you were younger you were more like your mother. As you age and deal with life’s blows, I notice more of your father in you.” Sir Gaius held up a defensive hand. “And that’s not a bad thing! Do you have to look so appalled?”

  Dovian rubbed his face. “Wasn’t aware I made such an expression.”

  “And that trait, you get from your mother.” Sir Gaius smiled. “Her expressions gave everything away.”

  Dovian sighed, rubbing the back of his head.

  Sir Gaius remained transfixed on the portrait. “You never had the opportunity to meet her.”

  “Great-grandmother?” Dovian asked.

  “Yes. Adriel.” With his hands clasped, he turned toward Dovian a bit. “It’s been so long since I’ve said the name aloud that it almost sounds foreign. Like a ghost’s whisper. Slightly haunting.”

  “She was a beautiful woman,” Dovian quietly spoke as he brought his attention to the painting. “After all this time, I never asked. Did you create that?”

  Sir Gaius scoffed. “Heavens, no! Your father did.”

  “Father?” Dovian asked in a volume louder than intended.

  “Your father was quite the painter. He’s not touched a brush since your mother’s passing.”

  “I’d never known.” Dovian lowered his gaze.

  “Don’t blame your father. He’s a depressed man. When Elysia left this world, a large piece of him left with her. And I guarantee…he does not regret ever meeting her.”

  Dovian nodded slowly.

  “Just as I will never regret Adriel.” Sir Gaius sighed. It was rare for Dovian ever to see sadness within the great Elder.

  “What happened to her? I’ve heard whispers, but never really knew.”

  “It was an accident.” Gaius gripped the top of his office chair tightly only for a second before he ran his hands over the grooves instead. “I’ve known her since the time before.”

  Dovian nodded slowly. Being an original Elder, Sir Gaius retained all connections to his past in the Heavens. Every descendant, however, merely felt the call of the Heavens, but direct communication and memories of the time before belonged only to the Elders.

  “When I offered to come down here, to lead by example and learn the hardships of humanity, Adriel was devastated. She loved me very much, greater than you can imagine in your current form. Despite her disfavor of sacrificing her place in the Kingdom, she fell with me. Life on this planet, it was too much for her at times. She had developed depression, missing our old forms and lives. Your father takes after her. I see her sometimes within the sadness of his eyes. In your eyes.” He pointed at Dovian.

  “It pained me to see her fall prey to mental anguish. It wasn’t like that every day. She was often quite happy. Loved me, your grandfather, your father…with all her being. But the times she did succumb to her sadness and despair, I felt…fear. But I never once wanted to push her away. I merely held her tighter.” Gaius closed his eyes, a sad smile crossing his face. “She was beautiful. You would have loved her. I know she would have doted on you and Lita every minute possible. Her love outweighed any other emotion. Even at her worst, she loved more than most. She was an amazing woman. She still is.”

  “Did…she take her own life?” Dovian timidly asked.

  Sir Gaius gasped. “No! Never. She’d never….”

  Dovian hung his head. “I apologize. It’s simply…nobody has ever spoken about it. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

  Sir Gaius waved his hand dismissively. “Purely an accident. She tripped at the top of the stairs leading to her viewing room.” Adriel’s viewing room was a tower with a sight of Ives, windows all around. “She fell all the way down. Quick death. She broke her neck. By the time I found her, it was far too late. Nothing could be
done.”

  Dovian’s face fell. “That must’ve been incredibly difficult.”

  Sir Gaius nodded. “For a long while, I was not sure what to do with myself. Azera took over much of my duties to which I will be eternally grateful. He gave me time. My boys came to my aid. Overall, it was a humbling experience. But I realized something, and my outlook on life changed.”

  Dovian felt a suffocating silence consume the room. He realized that his great-grandfather was eyeing him carefully, his icy eyes flickering. Upon Dovian’s eye contact, he continued.

  “I could feel sorrow until the end of my days. I could cry every day as I miss my beautiful soulmate. But where would that get me? No, I learned that I should be happy.”

  “Happy?”

  “Adriel never wanted to be here. She only followed because she loved me. Now, she’s in the Kingdom. She’s as happy as she was before. She patiently awaits me, and that is soothing to my heart. Sometimes, if I listen closely, I can hear her song. I pity those who were born into this world. You and the others cannot feel the full capacity of the Kingdom. As the lineages further develop, those born down the line will further lose their connection. You were born on this Earth, Dovian. You were born into sin, just as these humans were. But, you know the truth. It is in your DNA. It is within the song you hear. There’s no denying it for you. To go against what you were created for is even deadlier than anything a human can do.”

  Dovian nodded slowly. His thoughts traced back to Euclid and the time when his senses had dulled to the Heaven Song. He thought to bring the subject up to Sir Gaius but waited as the Elder continued.

  “The Heavens are a great place Dovian. To avoid love and adventure in your current lifetime is a waste. While you are here, you are meant to learn. You are meant to investigate the ways of life on this planet. Your trials here are detrimental not only to yourself but our race and humanity as well. Someday, when you become Gold status, you will find your connection to the Kingdom will grow. With a lot of patience, you will be as powerful as I am. Perhaps even more.”