Arc One: Awakening

Chapter 2: The Gateways - Part 2

"Who?" Oscar said.

"Professor Bartholomew Amias Spark," Bartholomew repeated. At the exchange of confused glances, he scoffed and pursed his lips. "The Navigator of the Starlight Path? Wanderer of the Nine Realms? Is none of this ringing a bell?"

"Navigator of what?" Esther questioned.

"The Starlight Path! Dear girl, where were you educated?"

Esther's jaw tensed and she lifted her chin. "I am a Citadel student," she said, narrowing her eyes at the man who would dare to insult her intelligence.

Clasping his hands together and dipping his head in apology, Bartholomew regarded the three teenagers before him.

The girl flung her dark blonde braid over her shoulder, returning the stare, and the smaller boy strode to her side in graceful, silent footfalls. Rhythmic magic pulsed up and down his forearms in narrow, hexagonal tunnels. He conducted them with a fluidity even water would envy, each movement, each fluctuation of his fingers calculated and precise.

To their left, the taller of the two boys scrutinised him from head to foot as though he could cut him to fragments with a mere glimpse. Hovering above his crossed arms, the midnight black emblem of Thrulian Academy blazed around his biceps. A warrior in training, the professor considered.

"I am sorry if my inquiries came across as an affront. That was not my intention," Bartholomew said. "You mentioned you are students of the Citadel, so I assume you are all from Solgarde? Home of magic, if I remember correctly. Wondrous place. Deadly too. That's where all the fun lies." He proceeded with hesitant steps, and when they didn't show any inclination of a second attack, he descended to the desks circling the lowest levels of the lab. Warnings illuminated every screen as each of the known worlds shuddered, gateways awakening and calling in the prospering era of uncertainty with fervour.

He halted at Solgarde's monitor. Images flashed by from the cities, panic beginning to roil in the foundations. But one remained calm. Out on the plains of Mora, a woman stood alone at the base of the mountains, arm raised to the sky and torrents of violet and ruby light blazing from her palms.

"I know who that is," Esther gasped from over his shoulder. She ignored the professor's jump of surprise and waved at the screen. "That's Lilith Cleaver."

"And who would that be?"

"Mother of Modern Magic," she replied.

"Is she wielding Eventide and Imperial magic?" Bartholomew murmured, lowering multiple magnifiers over his glasses and leaning closer to the broadcast. "Well, children, if you were wondering why the gateways are opening, I think we have our answer." He swivelled to the other screens and delved deeper into the unease settling within him. Something wasn't right, something seething at the edges of his consciousness and no matter how hard he tried, he struggled to reach it.

In a few long bounds, he crossed the lab to the oversized clock embedded into the far window and analysed the twitch and tick of time passing. The other dials around it experienced the same stutter, cogs clanking as they fought to preserve their purpose. Sand billowed in plundering clouds and smacked against the glass, but he made out a few skeletons within the storm. There should have been vivid grass and trees ablaze with plum blossom, and mountains to the east that reached towards orange skies. Cities used to bustle between the valleys and glimmer in their artificial light, and doze with a multitude of stars to watch over their sleep. But there was nothing there.

"This isn't right," he muttered. "It's only been twenty years." Reality struck him like a mallet to the face and he leapt to the pod. With shaking hands, he brought up the readings from his slumber.