The Call of the Void

Near a desolate tower that silently stretched into the night sky, what once could be described as bodies lay twisted over each other in a scene that would haunt the dreams of any who saw it.

“Boy, you're dying” a voice flatly spoke into the dark.

Daven tried to open his eyes, after what felt like a gargantuan effort his right eye cracked open just a bit, his left eye seemed to be glued shut with a sticky substance. Next he wrenched his head towards the voice and struggled to make a sound, but his jaw was fractured, all that could be heard was a faint wispy rattle as he forced what little air existed in his lungs through his bleeding lips. He roughly knew his own condition, he couldn’t feel his legs, if they were even still there, and what feeling he did have in his arms and chest were nothing but pain. A blurry shadow bent over him and a finger reached out. Just before the finger touched him a green light burst from it and drilled into the center of his forehead.

In an instant Daven’s pain disappeared and all that remained was warmth and darkness. No air, no light, nothing. Suddenly the world turned bright, so bright it hurt. He felt a sharp pain and he drew in a large gasping breath. From the moment he opened his eyes and became aware of the world, time seemed to speed up for him, of course it did, he had seen all this before, lived all this before. He watched, in horror, an observer trapped in his own mind as he was born into the world again. As his mother held him in their arms and his father cut his umbilical cord.

Time sped by as he watched himself struggle for control of his own body and slowly the world around him began to make sense. In just a moment he was a child, barely three years old, staring in wonder at his grandfather's hand as brilliant purple flames burned on the tips of his fingers. Slowly his grandfather brought his fingers together and the flames mixed. Spreading his fingers out again the flames took the shape of a flower in his palm. The little boy's eyes sparkled.

Daven’s family was an old lineage that had produced generations of capable mages that rose to power inside the empire. Unfortunately, It had never produced an archmage before, that is, until Daven’s grandfather. In a few years Daven’s grandfather’s realm would enter the exalted archmage level and if he survived the tribulation that accompanied the realm increase then he would become a pillar of support for the empire and awarded a preeminent status that would secure the foundation of his family for generations to come.

Daven was born with the same fire affinity constitution and potential as his grandfather, not that he was aware of the expectations placed on him, for now all he cared about were the bright purple lights dancing on the palm of the old man in front of him.

Now, he was five years old. Near a stream he caught a turtle and flipped it on its back so it couldn't escape. A little girl his age, with black hair and bright eyes, screamed at him in anger, telling him to let it go. When he wouldn't she picked up a rock and threw it at him.

Another year passed and Daven sat at a table while his father and mother hugged each other and cried. His grandfather had died during his tribulation. His family focused their eyes on Daven's future.

Days blended together, and years quickly passed by. At seven his father began teaching him things he would need to know in the future, including armed and unarmed combat. His father started taking Daven everywhere with him to broaden his horizons. His father explained to him the expectations of his family, the hope they had in him, all he needed to do was walk the path he and his grandfather had laid for Daven. The weight was crushing and Daven’s adolescence came to an end.

When he turned twelve he officially joined the Skyfire Guild his family belonged to. Due to his background he got his own small residence instead of sharing a residence with four others. He was able to focus on his studies to the exclusion of the world around him.

By the age of thirteen he had broken into the 3rd step of the Mortal Realm, he was considered a rare talent to advance so quickly.

At the age of fourteen he caused a stir in the guild when he broke into the 6th step of the Mortal Realm. Crossing six minor realms in two years, what kind of concept was that? Advancing even a single realm was a tedious and solitary process. It was a battle of will power and many people found themselves lacking in the necessary perseverance. A person could spend 8 hours a day practicing and it would still take nine months to progress even a single step, and it only became more difficult the further one progressed.

In the guild, mages would often choose to go on missions and in exchange they received merit points. These merit points could be exchanged for anything, like new techniques, spirit artifacts, and medicinal pills to name a few of them. Daven’s family ensured he never lacked for resources, giving their own time and energy to accumulate merit points for him.

When unwilling to go on missions and unable to force themselves to study and practice, many young mages socialize with other people their own age and power levels. Life in the guild was very lively, with nearly ten thousand members in the local guild branch alone. This number did not include all the clans and vagrant mages living within the lands and cities that owed allegiance to the guild.

Every person in the guild was a mage to some degree. If a mage had low talent or lacked sufficient will power, their future accomplishments would be minimal, so the guild would find a use for their talents elsewhere. For someone to progress six levels of realm in only two years despite so many distractions, was considered a talent seen maybe only once in a hundred years.

The 6th level of the Mortal Realm was considered a dividing line. Before this level mages were unable to utilize the energy that they were building up in their body. After this point a mage could channel their energy into techniques that could be used to survive. The world was a dangerous place, where the strong ruled and the weak could only accept their fate.

At fifteen his parents were approached by another family in the guild. He became engaged to a beautiful young woman with long black hair and bright eyes, they were to marry once they both set foot beyond the Mortal Realm. She was a great beauty even at this young age and she had shown nearly as much talent as Daven, if not more. This beautiful girl had once thrown a rock at him for not letting go of a turtle.

Four months after Daven turned eighteen he went into seclusion in preparation to break into the 9th level of the Mortal Realm. Around this time a mana vein was discovered along the eastern border of the guilds territory. This was the end of Daven’s happy times. To own a treasure, but not have the strength to protect it? The outcome was inevitable. To ensure no future retaliation the guild’s enemies were brutal in their methods, they pulled everything out by the roots, leaving no one who could retaliate or dispute their claims. Or so they thought.

Daven suddenly found himself back in the present as the green light faded and darkness once again took its place. Although it should have taken a long time to relive his life, only the span of a few heartbeats had passed.

“A good seed” he faintly heard from the crouching shadow in front of him, the words acted as a focus for Daven. Had he really just re-lived his life? How did that happen? He had just seen his entire life. Shock left his mind reeling. Slowly fear entered his thoughts. If the person in front of him could make him relive his entire life in a heartbeat then how deep was his magic? What realm was this man in? It couldn’t be the mortal realm, or even the spirit realm, could it possibly be higher then even the Archmage realm? Were there any realms beyond that?

“I have a way to save your life,” the figure spoke after pulling back his hand. Hearing this, a small flicker of hope took root.

After experiencing his own life again Daven now saw himself from the point of a bystander and, he had to say, he was blessed. Even after his grandfather's death he had never suffered. He had every opportunity to grow. His path was laid out from the day he was born and he wanted for nothing, not even the love of a life partner. The blessings and kindness that he had been shown in his life, when he saw them all together as he just had, were a crushing mountain. He owed his family, he owed his guild. He had to live for his home and his family, they were owed justice.

The hope he felt gave birth to another feeling, anger. He began to struggle for breath to force himself to move. He couldn't die like this, resentment and hatred began to fill his very being.

Mustering his strength against the grinding pain he struggled to speak through his broken jaw, finally he croaked out, “please”.

The shadow stood there for a moment in silence. Then, “There are no free meals in this world. My price is exorbitant, and the process is painful enough to collapse your mind. You might want to reconsider, as you are now your death will come soon and you won't have to struggle so much.”

Pain? Apprehension filled Daven’s mind after hearing this but then an image of a dark haired girl with a blood filled smile flashed into his mind. He remembered watching as the bright light that once existed in her eyes dimmed until only a dull glossy look existed in them. His mind stilled, there could not possibly be worse pain, either physical or mental that he currently felt.

The dark shadow saw the determination in the boy's eyes and a strange smile creeped up his face, “Good”.

One second a boy of eighteen, struggling for breath with limbs twisted at an odd angle lay on the ground with a dark figure crouched before him, then a flash of green light lit up the dark. When it was gone, all that remained was the scene of that broken tower and the misery that littered the ground around it.