Veritas - Book 1

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. They had descended from The Tower, dark silhouettes piercing through the clouds that split the man-made construction between the realms of Earth and Heaven. The dragons had arrived with guests during the ides of March, bringing with the gift of storms.

The scaled beasts were alleged to be the guardians and stewards of the academies yet many of the townsfolk, including myself, had only heard hushed rumors passed on by word of mouth.

“When was the last time the academy had come to the sleeping town of Haven?”

“Not since E1050, nearly 30 years ago.”

“Are they friend or foe, feral or sentient?”

Speculation ran rampant, the dark overcasts doing nothing to ease the omen of the unknown.

A herald on dragonback had arrived today. His mount, a red drake, crashed ferally beside The Sepulcher of Pandora, my school and the home of my raising.

The rider, a red haired man in nothing greater than his 30s, descended from the reptillian beast, his orange-trimmed leather coat billowing out as his heavy black boots crunched on the ground beneath him. Attached at his hip, a waxed scroll emblazoned with a golden seal predicted his intentions.

The herald unfurled it, coughing hawkishly as he waited for the gathering crowd of townsfolk to converge around the marbled sculpture of Pandora, the Goddess of Thought.

The dragon snorted in what I interpreted as annoyance, a cloud of charred smoke sputtering out before the rain quickly pinned its soot to the earth.

I could not peel my eyes away from the terrifying behemoth, its grinning maw home to teeth each larger than my own hand. It’s irises, black daggers embedded in amber-glassed pupils, danced uncomfortably to my nausea.

The creature’s gaze suddenly settled in my direction and though I turned quickly, the brief pairing nearly made me turn in fear.

“Aurel,” a voice sneaking in beside me whispered.

I turned, a startled shudder crackling down the back of my spine.

The dragon turned away from me, its occupation shifting to my left as a crowd of adults arrived from Haven’s Old Town.

“Sara, you nearly scared me to death!,” I replied harshly. Adjacent to me and just slightly shorter than myself stood Sara Cadwell, my neighbor and classmate.

Sara ignored my rebuke, instead freezing beside me, wide-eyed, as she regarded the scarlet dragon and the flame-haired gentleman holding his scroll.

“That’s the academic seal of The Council of 10,” Sara whispered.

“The what?,” I asked ignorantly.

“The Albeon Academies!,” she continued, her expression of excitement juxtaposed against the tide of pale faces behind her.

I regarded the seal in question, recognition dawning on my face as I squinted the makeout of the iconic insignia of Albeon. Its scripted syllables were printed elegantly in a golden starred circle.

The voice of the herald flared through the rain.

“Great citizens of Haven, I, Ignis Venit, come forth humbly as representative of The Red Family and The Council of 10. The Academies are once again opening their doors for the next generation of Aurors.”

Gasps of surprise and confusion erupted through the column of townsfolk that had since formed a ring around the sepulcher. A palpable uneasiness condensed around Pandora’s chipped and broken likeness, the overcasting clouds above suffocating a fleeting sense of hope.

“Please, be at ease my friends. As you know, the Academies have and always will be allies to the scholarly peoples of Haven’s Valley. For we have been neighbors across the Straits of Bayaz since time itself and we have served from that time as diffusers of the high artes.”

A man I recognized as Kimbie, our tutor of history, stepped forward, his drenched stole dangling heavily from his shoulders. He hesitated as Ignis’ draconic guardian swivelled its horned head, his reflection small in its titanic gaze.

Kimbie swallowed bravely, his lower lip stiffening with a grafter’s pride. “What gives you the right? You and your order who have shown little interest in the politics of man, instead hiding above the clouds in your ivory tower. Finally, you have come down to earth yet now you ask to take away our children?“

“I have no interest in quarelling priest,” Ignis interrupted. “I do not come in arrogance nor do I come for apology. I am merely here to offer your gifted progeny the opportunity to learn the magics that will change the world. We will employ them, feed them knowl-”

“Feed them delusion? Or to feed to your masters?” Kimbie’s words lashed out with more vile than he had probably intended, yet it was clear the loathing behind his words were not his alone. Members of the crowd shuffled uneasily as adults ushered children back.

The herald gritted his jaw impatiently, his gloved hand combing through his drenched hair in irritation.

“Sara, Aurel, come away now,” Yarvin, another one of our tutors whispered behind us.

I shook my head, my eyes glued to the scarlet dragon, its maw curved in a curious grin. There was a standstill unfolding in the middle of the clearing.

“It’s okay,” Sara assured loudly, “We want to see.”

A dark chuckle suddenly emanated throughout every ear, its tone deep and ageless, its emotion controlled yet wild.

“Patience, Ignis,” the dragon spoke to the dismay of all except the herald, “They do not know. They have forgotten.”

I glanced at Sara, my eyes wide in surprise. Her’s were not. Instead, the expression on her face could only be described as curiosity.

“I apologize,” Ignis quickly mediated, his expression relaxing into a forced smile as he once again regarded Kimbie who wearily backed away from the dragon. “You are right, Vale. I am too used to talking candidly amongst your kin and my family.”

“We have forgotten nothing, young drake. On the contrary it is you who seems to have forgotten that your kind was to remain caged in that tower that now blights our sunlight,” an elderly voice rasped through the rain.

A cloaked figure limped forward, his old armor clinking against the cobbled square, his silver blade sheathed tightly to his waist.

Seneca, a veteran from the fabled Age of Monsters unfurled his hood, revealing his hard face. “No, we have not forgotten what you are,” he continued, staring grimly at the dragon. “Reptiles, lords of an Old Age. And you, Red Son, have now released these winged wolves upon our peaceful lands?”

“Seneca,” Ignis sighed, recognition dawning on his face. “My father warned you might still be alive, hidden away in shame. What a surprise that an exile of the past would be found in this district of antiquity. An old age indeed - an age that has been and passed. We are not here to relive your war, old man.”

Ignis circled, his pace steady as his eyes scanned over the crowd before settling in front of Sara and I. “We are here to build their future.”

“Runt,” Seneca spat, his blade singing as it flashed through the rain.

A blur of red bolted from Pandora’s statue before crashing into Seneca, titanic claws pinning the knight’s body to the cobbled ground.

The crowd dispersed as quickly as it had formed, a few weak hearts among them shouting in terror.

“Sara,” Yarvin hissed urgently, but she could not turn away from the chaos.

“Are you artists? Writers? Poets?,” crowed the red haired man as he rubbed his forehead with two fingers. “No, you are blinded by the teachings of a goddess who is no longer with you. Don’t you see? We are the ones who must lead ourselves forward now. Seneca, oh honorable knight, do you rescind your insults?”

Seneca lay sprawled out, his head exposed beneath the claws of Vale, a trickle of blood cascading down the corner of his lips. He gritted his teeth, his eyes glaring bravely into the eyes of the dragon. “I do not yield,” he spat.

The claws enveloping Seneca tightened.

“Vale, we are not killers,” Ignis interjected, yet the dragon did not abate its offense.

I watched as Seneca coughed up blood, his armor beginning to crack under the weight of the dragon’s grip.

“VALE!,” Ignis commanded, a burst of flame erupting from his hands as it buffeted against the dragon’s horned head.

The dragon recoiled ever so slightly, then drew back his grip from the wounded Seneca. It’s voice, dark and baritone, rattled in disdain.

“Remember why we are here, Vale,” Ignis berated, “we are here to collect students - not bodies. The council only requests a few then your debts will be settled.”

“Impudent -” Vale growled, the dragon’s nostrils flaring in tempered rage.

“Sara!,” I snapped, pulling her by the hand. “We need to go.”

“Did you see what he did?,” she asked as she turned to face Yarvin, his face pale with fear. “He was not lying. They really do teach magic in the tower. The rumors are true!”

“We have a deal?” Ignis reaffirmed, steam rising from his head, his hair tinted in bright flames.

The dragon hissed, measuring its tone patiently. “Then collect the children and let us be done or I shall lose my patience with these moles.”

The Sepulcher of Pandora behind us, Yarvin lead us into one of Haven’s alleys. The winding sidestreets were a maze of gentle twists and turns built upon modest cobblestone slopes of the ancient cityscape.

“Careful,” Yarvin whispered, as he glanced urgently from the way we had came. “The steps are slippery.”

Below us, the Silent Stairwell towards the Old Town awaited, its steep descent carving linearly through the city’s restaurant district. The pathway was dark, the black steps highlighted only by dimly lit lanterns and the cloudy overcast above.

Several large shadows suddenly passed overhead, gusts caused by their wake slamming against the sections of overextended rooftop ahead. A hiss rattled through the air as loose slates clattered free of their hinges and clattered onto the steps beside us.

“Why are we running away?,” Sara finally asked, her expression increasingly rotten. Sara hated exercise, her gifts tilted heavily towards the mental faction of life.

Yarvin grimaced at the girl, his bushy grey brows taut in thought. “You are too young to understand my child, but you must never go to the tower.”

I sighed in exasperation. There was no world in which Sara would accept such an vague answer.

“But why? Master Yarvin,” Sara continued. “Why are you and the other teachers so afraid? I am n-“

“Because the academies will lead you astray,” Yarvin snapped, shuffling carefully a few steps down. “You do not understand the costs of magic! Now come!”

I could see Sara begin to protest but with no desire to linger further in the damp alley, I grabbed her hand with my clammy own and followed.

We carefully descended the staircase in gloomy silence, streams of gutter-washed rain crashing by our feet.

“Aurel, surely you saw the flames burst forth from the messenger’s hands,” Sara whispered to me. “Never have we seen anything like it!”

I said nothing. My thoughts were in a state of flux. A dragon paired with a human? The academies were opening again? I had so many questions but so few answers.

“We have studied the texts of Pandora, of truth and knowledge, but for what is its use if we cannot seek it ourselves?,” Sara continued, her violet eyes glancing at Yarvin. “What is a blind seeker but a blind man?”

“I-I don’t know,” I stammered, carefully stepping around an overflowing drain. I glanced at Yarvin, his rickety silhouette an unsightly shadow in the gritty alley. I began to wonder if Haven had always looked like it did now, a grey washed tomb of a fallen empire.

Yarvin raised his hand, calling for the pair of us to quiet down. He was standing at the foot of the Silent Stairwell now, his robed back assimilating him almost entirely into the backdrop of the urban landscape.

A commotion was stirring around the corner of the entrance.

“Have you found my daughter yet?,” an approaching voice called loudly, its tone dark and familiar.

“A priest took her and a boy,” another voice pulsed in the opposite direction, its flapping wings easing to a stop before a heavy weight crashed onto the street with a tremor.

Yarvin turned to regard us, his arm gently pushing us into the wall. “In the shadows,” he mouthed silently.

“That sounds like my f-,” Sara began but I covered her mouth with my hand, raising a finger to my own.

“Where did those damned priests take her?,” the familiar voice muttered as he walked in front of the staircase’s arched entrance.

I recognized him immediately. Tall and slender with a prominent jawline, his gaunt cheekbones contrasted by lively ebon hair, Sara’s father paused at the base of the steps, his eyes gazing up at the doorway of light we had just descended from.

He sighed, tapping at his gold-plated watch as I regarded him.

Maxwell Cadwell wore a dark suit without a speck of water on him. In his hand, a gold-trimmed umbrella big enough for three had shielded him from the artillery of raindrops above.

“Ouch,” I yelped as Sara bit my hand.

“Father!,” Sara cried, leaping out onto the street, her face bright with delight.

“Sara, my girl!,” Maxwell turned in astonishment, “and Aurel,” he said with less enthusiasm. “Where have you been? I lost sight of you after Ignis of the Red read his message.”

“Yarvin took me and Aurel away from the Sepulcher because a fight had broken out between Seneca and the dragon.”

A chuckle emanated in the wind, its voice dissonant in the same way as the blood-colored dragon’s had been. “A misunderstanding, I assure.”

“Unavoidable,” Maxwell replied disinterestedly. “So it was Yarvin who took you?,” he continued before scanning the shadows. “Yarvin, stop hiding in the shadows. Come out.”

Yarvin stepped forward, his face hidden beneath his hood. “Maxwell,” he muttered in palpable disdain, before turning his attention towards something outside of my view.

“And where is the young Aurelius?”

“He’s here too,” Sara answered.

I could not falter Sara for her compliance. After all, what were the chances that we would run into her father? Maxwell was someone I had only encountered on few occassions, for he rarely appeared in Haven, preferring to occupy himself to affairs never quite illuminated.

I announced myself gingerly, before taking my place beside Yarvin. Standing a few feet away, I now saw what Yarvin had been so perturbed by. A dragon, the same size as Vale but black in complexion, waited patiently as it regarded us.

“H-Hello Mr. Cadwell,” I spoke.

“Aurelius Grey,” Maxwell mused, “always around my Sara.”

I had never been a particular fan of Sara’s father for the man unnerved me. Not only did he hold an imposing figure, he was inscrutible in reaction, and thus very difficult to read. Did he hate me? Perhaps I was just a parasite, a lowborn blight hanging onto his only daughter’s life.

“And what did you think of the offer Ignis proposed? Do you wish to learn at the academies?,” Maxwell continued.

“I-“

“He does not need anything the academies have to offer,” interjected Yarvin, his voice a defensive growl.

“Let the boy speak for himself, Yarvin,” Maxwell berated. “So?,” he asked, waiting patiently for my answer.

I did not know what the academies were, truly, only that they had something to do with The Tower, the massive monolith in the ocean that split Haven’s sunset in two.

“I suppose,” I answered, “I do not really know what they offer.”

“I see. Perhaps I should asked a different question then. Wherever Sara goes,” Maxwell mused, “will you follow?”

“He is not your son,” Yarvin spat. “We have sacrificed everything for the freedom these children have enjoyed. And now you seek to throw it all away?”

“Fool,” Maxwell replied angrily, “I do not seek to throw anything away. In contrast, I will not stand idly by watching my child endlessly studying the past until she herself becomes it.”

Yarvin did not answer, his jaw set harshly underneath his cowl.

“We are going to Albeon, my child,” Maxwell spoke calmly, offering his hand out to his daughter, “if that is what you want, of course.”

“I do but Is Aurel coming?,” she asked, looking up at her father, seemingly ignorant of the verbal battle that had just taken place.

Maxwell chuckled, his tone something between endearment and annoyance, before shifting his gaze towards me.

“I don’t know. Is he?”

I looked at Yarvin, his shoulders defeated as he stood miserably against the grey backdrop of the Silent Stairwell. Next, I looked up at the Tower, its silhouette somewhat obscured by the rain yet eternally ineffaceable.

“Well?,” Sara asked, her hand extended.

I will always remember the humble smile that was on her pretty face at that moment, yet her violet eyes betrayed a knowing beyond her years for she already knew, as she always did, the answer to her question. I took her hand and followed.

“What are we going to do there?,” I asked as Maxwell lifted me up onto the dragon’s bowed wing.

“Yes, father. What are we going to do there?, Sara echoed.

I stared at the priest fading into the background, his despairing eyes meeting mine. It was a despair that in that moment I had taken for his own, a misinterpretation that would be my first but not my last.

Maxwell replied as the dragon beneath us ascended into the winds.

It rang light.

“You are going to learn magic.”