Andrellia

20. Alaric

The descent into the Star of Andrellia's belly was a stark contrast to the ethereal glow of the holographic interface. The air grew thick with the salty tang of the sea and the creaking of the timbers, the silence heavy with the aftermath of violence. Phillip, his celestial gold eyes cutting through the darkness, led Alaric to the cabin where the battle raged.

As they entered the space, the memory of the struggle hung heavy. Alaric could almost hear the clash of steel and the desperate shouts of the crew. Phillip, with a flourish of his spectral hand, initiated another spectral inquiry, this time focusing on the specific location where Leon had stood.

The holographic scene flickered to life, but not as a full battle recreation. Instead, it became a focused snapshot, a window into the moment just before the pirates burst into the cabin.

The specter showed Leon, young and fearful, crouched behind a stack of crates. This was a normal reaction for a child caught in the chaos, Alaric thought. But then, something unexpected happened.

A faint, glowing medallion pulsating with an ethereal light emerged from a nearby crate. It was the first sign of an aura Phillip had been able to detect on Leon. It pulsed softly, a beacon in the darkness.

Suddenly, the image shifted. Leon, with a newfound urgency, reached into his clothing and grasped the medallion tightly. The moment his fingers closed around the pendant, his aura... vanished.

Phillip stared at the darkness of the recreated scene, a bewildered frown etched on his spectral face. "Extraordinary," he whispered, his voice tinged with awe. "The boy... he did manifest an aura... and then, when he touched the medallion, it vanished."

Alaric, ever the pragmatist, voiced their shared confusion. "What does this mean, Phillip?" he asked, his voice low and serious. "What kind of magic is at play here, and what role does that medallion play in it all?"

Phillip, his spectral form flickering slightly, scrolled back in the 3D scene to just before Leon touched the medallion. He paused the image and zoomed in, focusing on the glowing pendant. A gasp escaped his spectral lips.

"By the Celestials," he murmured, his voice hushed. "That symbol... it's the Vergina Sun. The royal emblem of the ancient Macedonian Empire."

Alaric's confusion deepened as Phillip's spectral form flickered with sudden irritation. "King of conquerors..." Phillip muttered, his voice laced with annoyance, "if that meathead is involved..."

The cryptic comment sent a jolt through Alaric. It was one thing for there to be a strange medallion and a hidden aura around the young cabin boy, but a reference to a legendary king added a whole new dimension to the mystery.  "King of conquerors? Who is that?" Alaric pressed, his brow furrowed even further.  Each new revelation only made the situation more perplexing.

Phillip, his spectral form solidifying slightly, offered a wry smirk that did little to ease Alaric's growing unease. "Let's just say," he began, his voice regaining a hint of amusement, "he's one for grand gestures and a touch... boisterous. A bit of a pain in the celestial ass, some might say."

A mischievous glint sparked in Phillip's spectral eyes, momentarily replacing the earlier irritation. "That symbol on the medallion, Captain," he continued, his voice returning to a more serious tone, "it belongs to Alexander the Great, or more precisely, Alexander the III. The same Alexander who once ruled vast empires and is considered one of history's most brilliant military minds."

Alaric's eyes widened in surprise. Phillip wasn't one for casual compliments, especially regarding military prowess. Alaric himself prided himself on his strategic thinking, having devoured countless texts on warfare throughout his career. To hear Phillip, a spectral being with access to knowledge beyond mortal comprehension, speak so highly of Alexander's tactical brilliance struck a chord with the Captain.

A smile tugged at the corner of Alaric's lips. Perhaps there was a begrudging respect there, a recognition of a kindred spirit across time and planes of existence. "Indeed," Alaric admitted, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice. "A name that echoes through the ages. Though from what you've hinted, it seems Alexander III might be more... flamboyant than the history books portray."

Phillip chuckled, a sound that echoed eerily in the confines of the cabin. "Flamboyant? Captain, you have no idea. Alexander the Great was a force of nature, a whirlwind of ambition and conquest. But Alexander..." he paused, his spectral form shimmering slightly, "well, let's just say he's... different. More... ethereal, perhaps."

Intrigue crackled in the air between them, thicker than the salty scent that clung to the ship. The discovery of the medallion, the strange behavior of Leon's aura, and now the implication that a legendary king, albeit a spectral one, might be involved  it was all a heady mix that threatened to overwhelm Alaric.

"So, what does it all mean, Phillip?" Alaric finally asked, his voice low and serious. "The medallion, the king, the boy... how do they all fit together?"

Phillip gestured with his spectral hand, conjuring up a spectral screen that blinked to life before them, filled with swirling symbols and arcane script. "That, Captain," he said, his voice laced with a hint of uncertainty. "Is the question for the ages..."

With a flourish of his spectral hand, he conjured a spectral screen that blinked to life before them, filled with swirling symbols and arcane script that danced beyond Alaric's mortal comprehension.

"This," Phillip continued, his voice regaining a touch of its usual composure, "is a glimpse into the Celestial realm, the plane of existence where I originate. And Alexander the III… well, he's a fellow Celestial, though a far more… boisterous one, as I've mentioned."

Alaric's brow furrowed. "Celestial realm? You mean to tell me there are… others like you?"

Phillip nodded, a hint of pride flickering in his spectral eyes. "There are many, Captain. We Celestials act as guardians, observers, and sometimes even… nudges, when the fabric of reality becomes unbalanced."

A spark of understanding ignited in Alaric's eyes. "So, Alexander… the Third? He was summoned like you were?"

"One could say that," Phillip replied, a mischievous glint replacing the earlier weariness. "Unlike myself, who channels my power, Alexander prefers a more… direct approach. He often manifests in the mortal realm, though in a spectral form much like mine. Though…" Phillip trailed off, his spectral form flickering slightly.

"Though?" Alaric pressed, sensing there was more to the story.

A hint of amusement flickered across Phillip's spectral visage. "Unlike myself, who am bound to a spectral form resembling a rook on a celestial chessboard," Phillip explained, "Alexander's form is far more… imposing. Think of a radiant warrior, clad in celestial armor, wielding a blade that could cleave mountains."

Alaric's jaw hung slightly agape. A spectral king who looked like a legendary warrior? This world, or rather, the existence beyond it, seemed to get stranger by the moment.

Regaining his composure, Alaric let out a low whistle.  "A spectral warlord, you say? Sounds like a right piece of work."

Phillip chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "A piece of work, indeed, Captain. But Alexander's methods, however flamboyant, are usually… effective. And his goals, while achieved in unorthodox ways, are often aligned with those of us Celestials."

"And what might those goals be?" Alaric pressed, his curiosity piqued.

Phillip tapped a spectral finger against the holographic screen, causing the symbols to dance and reform.  "That, Captain, is what we're about to find out.  The medallion you saw, the Vergina Sun… it's a Celestial artifact, a conduit. It seems Alexander the III has chosen young Leon as his… vessel, for lack of a better word."

Alaric stared at the swirling symbols, his mind racing. A Celestial king, a magical medallion, and a seemingly ordinary cabin boy, the pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together, but the picture they formed was far stranger than Alaric could have ever imagined.

"A vessel?" he repeated, his voice tight with a mixture of apprehension and fascination.  "What does that mean for Leon?"