Eldritch Guidance

“The oldest known written text that exists to date is a little over 12,000 years old, the Gahr Hielm. A stone tablet found within ruins located outside the Obsidian Towers within Gix. The aether dating within the material of the tablet suggests it was created in 8971 BAE. This is the year many historians declare when writing begins for humans.

“However, I disagree with this assumption.

“There are a variety of artifacts and structures that predate the Gahr Hielm by an overwhelming amount. And, these objects possess a degree of sophistication to a level that we can not replicate today. Objects enchanted with ancient magic, such as the Eye of Argon, are prime examples. This ancient magic defies Aether theory, which is one of the core bases of our understanding of existence.

“As such. I believe that these ancient people, who were capable of creating something so complex, must have been intelligent enough to develop a writing system. And yet, we can not find any writing from these civilizations.

“I have a theory that during the Mythic Era, there was a cataclysmic event that occurred and led to the writings of the inhabitants of that time to be lost. The exact details of this event are hard to pinpoint. However, given the absurd nature of ancient magic that we have encountered, it is not beyond the realm of possibility that it could be reality warping in terms of the extent of the disaster. As such, our ancestors may have purposely destroyed all written records and knowledge of that era to prevent repeating whatever catastrophe happened.

“The notion that our ancestors deliberately destroyed all of their written records is also backed up by the mysterious words of giant sages that lived during this time who said, ‘Man has destroyed his past, with purpose.’

“And, while I will recognize that my speculation is quite grand in claim. I will point out to my critics that advanced civilizations really did exist during the Mythic Era, and that is not disputed. For civilizations as advanced as the ones during the Mythic Era to suddenly disappear and not leave anything written behind is beyond strange.

“Regardless of my theory, I believe it is presumptuous for other historians to declare 8971 BAE the year humans first began writing. Especially since there has not been a proper compassion with historical records from the eastern continent.”

—“Ancient Times Forgotten” By disgraced Archmage Alexandria Scarlett

Joe and Alan had been driving along through the city, their car cutting through the stillness of the evening. Alan was sitting in the passenger seat. It was late, and the streetlights had begun to flicker on, one after another, casting a dim glow on the emptying streets. As they passed each light, its sudden flash caught Alan's eye, adding to the rhythm of the ride.

The number of people on the streets had dwindled, the once-bustling city was now quiet as the sun dipped below the horizon. The only sources of light were the streetlights and the occasional glow from a nearby building. Shadows grew longer, and the atmosphere slowly became more quiescent with each passing block. This part of the city was slowly ramping down and preparing to sleep for the night.

Alan couldn’t shake the strange sense of surrealness that crept over him as they continued driving. The familiar cityscape seemed different, almost dreamlike, as if they were moving through a place caught between reality and illusion.

It was that strange feeling that made Alan realize how tired he truly was.

When Alan had offered to help Joe, he hadn't felt tired at all. In fact, he had been eager to lend a hand. He was taking every opportunity he could to contribute to this whole investigation. But, something about the drive to their destination had a calming effect on him. The smooth hum of the engine, the rhythmic passing of the streetlights, and the gentle sway of the car as it moved through the city streets all combined to create a serene atmosphere, like the kind of relaxing evening drive he hadn’t experienced in a while.

As they drove, the events of the day began to catch up with him. The intense training with Mitra and the hours spent poring over the books all had taken a toll. He hadn’t realized just how much it had worn him down until now. The peacefulness of the drive seemed to coax the weariness to the surface, making him aware of just how exhausted he truly was. Alan felt his eyelids grow heavy, the steady motion of the car lulling him into a drowsy state. The more they drove, the sleepier he became, as if the city itself was urging him to rest.

If Alan had realized how tired he truly was, he likely would not have offered to go along with Joe to help.

They continued to drive in silence for a few more minutes, with Alan forcing himself to stay awake. It was Joe who was the first to break the silence.

Joe: “So…what’s your deal with Ren?”

Alan: “Huh?” he mumbled as he pulled out his trance.

Joe: “Did he wrong you, or something?” he asked, as he turned off onto another road.

Alan: “No, not really.”

Joe: “Not really? So, he kinda wronged you?”

Alan: “He didn’t wrong me at all.”

Joe: “Then what’s with the animosity between you two? It’s why I let you tag along. So, I could ask you about that.”

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Alan: “I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s no beef between us.”

Joe: “Oh, give me a break. It is so obvious something is going on between you two. The first day we started working together, you accused him of using spirit binding magic and looked like you were ready to attack him over it.”

Alan: “It was just a misunderstanding.”

Joe: “That’s a pretty fucking big misunderstanding. I would never casually accuse someone of using something as heinous as spirit-binding magic. Not unless I had some pretty solid evidence of something like that. Tell me, is this related to Rell being from Grayscale College?

Alan: “...”

The young enforcer remained silent, his lips pressed together in a thin line. When the question was asked, he didn’t respond with words. Instead, a pained expression crossed his face, his eyes reflecting the internal struggle he was grappling with.

Alan didn’t understand why he didn’t like Rell. He just didn’t. But, when Joe pointed out the Grayscale connection, it seemed so obvious. He didn’t want to admit that was what it was, and he tried to rationalize it, but couldn't come up with a reasonable explanation.

Joe: “Your silence says a thousand words.”

Alan: “Why am I being interrogated about this?”

Joe: “Cause I’m in charge of this unit, which means I have to try and resolve conflict between the people in this unit. I don’t need you fighting with Rell. And, light forbid, you attack him because of your dislike of him.”

Alan: “I would never!” he yelled defensively, not appreciating being accused of possibly attacking someone.

Joe: “Then talk to me. Convince me why you can work with Rell, and why I shouldn’t remove you from my unit.”

The possibility that Joe might kick Alan out of the unit sent a wave of panic through him. Being in Arcane Eye hinged entirely on his position with the Enforcers. If Joe removed him from the unit, Alan wasn’t sure if he would even be allowed to remain an Enforcer. Without that status, his place in the Arcane Eye would be in jeopardy.

If he couldn’t stay in the Arcane Eye, his chances of becoming an Archmage would plummet dramatically. It wasn’t just a setback; it was a potential roadblock that could shatter his dreams. Unable to keep the promise he made to Cris about becoming an Archmage. The idea of failing that promise—of losing everything he had worked so hard for—filled him with a sense of dread that was almost overwhelming.

Alan: “I-I don’t know what to tell you. I just don’t like Rell. Maybe you’re right, and it has something to do with him being from the Grayscale College,” he said, trying to be honest.

Joe: “I suspected. I’ve dealt with men who were hurt by women and vice versa. Those people sometimes project their fear and hatred of the person who hurt them onto the entirety of the opposite sex—associating entire groups of people with the thing that hurt them. I had a feeling it might be something like that with you, but with the Grayscale. Sorin was a Grayscale professor, and you were part of the group of students that stopped him, so that would leave a less than positive impression of the Grayscale.”

There was an awkward silence that followed after Joe commented.

A tumultuous swirl of emotions churned within Alan, crashing over him like relentless waves as he struggled to make sense of it all. Each surge of feeling overwhelmed him, leaving him grasping for clarity amidst the chaos in his mind. The weight of what had happened to him and the memories of Sorin pressed heavily on his chest, making it nearly impossible to find the words to express the depth of his experience. He searched for a way to articulate the complex mix of anger, sorrow, and confusion.

Alan: “Sorin… killed my friend. Turned him into an undead and forced his corpse to attack me. Even though I can rationalize that it wasn't Cris attacking me, it still feels a little like he was betraying me. Now, every time I think about my friend, I'm reminded of that feeling. Sorin not only killed my friend and defiled his body, but he also defiled the memory of Cris. That’s… Something I will never forgive Sorin for.”

Joe: “Ah, shit. Sorry about that. I get it. I’ve… been there. Damn it. Kids like you shouldn't have to be dealing with this kind of shit.”

Alan: “How could you understand something like this?”

Joe: “I’ve had friends that died as well, murdered in fact.”

Alan: “Oh…”

Joe: “You want to remember how they were in life, but all you think about is how they died. Especially, when the method of death was very gruesome. While It’s not exactly what you’re feeling, it is somewhat similar. Like your feelings of betrayal, the memory of my friends is mixed with… my regret of failing them.”

Another heavy, uncomfortable silence settled between them after Joe's words, lingering in the air. Alan found himself at a loss, unable to muster a response. He barely knew Joe, only a week had gone by since he met him. Alan had bared his emotions, laying himself open in a desperate attempt to stay on the team—but he never imagined that Joe, the seasoned and stoic senior detective, would reciprocate with his own vulnerability. The unexpected revelation left Alan feeling both exposed and strangely connected, yet the weight of what had been shared made it difficult for either of them to find the right words.

Another minute went by before it was ultimately Alan who broke the silence.

Alan: “Um, could you not take me off the team? I promise to try and get along with Rell.”

Joe: “I won’t take you off. And, you don’t have to like Rell. This thing you developed with people from the Grayscale College is something you’re going to have to work through, and that takes time. Just don’t fight with him if you can.“

Alan: “No problem, I’ll be sure to.”

Joe: “Good. Consider this free therapy to help work through your issues. If you ever need to talk about it, I’ll lend ya an ear.”

Alan nodded, and they continued on their drive. They weaved through the quiet streets, passing by buildings that seemed lifeless, their windows darkened as if the businesses had long since closed for the night. The tension that had lingered between Alan and Joe from their earlier conversation seemed to dissipate, evaporating into the cool night air as if it had never existed.

In the distance, Alan noticed a flicker of blue and red lights cutting through the darkness. As they drew closer, the flashing lights revealed themselves to be police cars, their beams bouncing off the windows of nearby homes and vehicles. Joe pulled the car to the side of the road and parked, the tires crunching softly on some loose bits of sand on the pavement.

From where they sat, Alan could see a large, opulent home. The area around the home was in chaos. A fence of caution tape had been strung around the residence, marking it as a crime scene. Police officers moved about with purpose, their forms silhouetted against the bright lights of the squad cars. The scene was a stark contrast to the quietness they had just driven through, and the gravity of the situation settled heavily in the air.

Alan: “Is this a crime scene? You didn’t say we were going to a crime scene.”

Joe: “I… didn’t know. Was only told to come here. Well, we’re here now. Let's see what’s going on,” he said while getting out of the car.

Alan also got out and followed behind Joe toward the taped-off area.

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