Breath of Divinity

To everyone’s great surprise, Sytris announced that he would be training them individually.

“Why?” Jonathan had asked. “What happened to all that bond of family crap?”

“Language!” Mr. Whitmore said.

“It’s only temporary. Each of your powers functions differently on a fundamental level. Different triggers, different applications. You need at least a basic understanding of what you can do first, before you start learning together.”

It made sense, they supposed, so Jon was the first to assume the challenge. On one hand, a fire of deep anticipation was blazing within his chest; he was desperate to learn more about himself, about what he was capable of before the memories of his previous life had been completely wiped away against his will. At the same time, however, though he gave no indication of this, he was also eager to be out of the room, away from everyone else.

He didn’t exactly dislike them, but he had meant what he had said about never really needing any other additions to his family since the death of his mother.

He hadn’t meant to be rude, or to hurt Tim or Haley, but it was the truth, and the truth was always preferred, wasn’t it?

Jon followed Sytris out of sight, down a corridor that he, Tim and Haley had visited briefly yesterday. The day before, however, all the doors on this side of the mansion had been locked. Now, Sytris tapped against a gleaming brown door and it swung open, revealing a room that was completely empty except for two large cushions laid on the floor and two dark red candles on either side of them.

“Oh God, please don’t tell me we’re going to have some kind of meditating session,” Jon said.

Sytris let out a small laugh. “No, Lord Orus. This is something different.”

“Are you ever going to stop calling me that? My name is Jonathan,” he said, speaking very slowly and loudly.

“Take a seat,” said Sytris, acting as though he hadn’t heard a word. He took a seat on one of the poufs and Jonathan sat down opposite him, exhaling through his nose.

“I hope you don’t have too many expectations for this session, because we’ll be starting fairly small today. Today, I want you to create a tiny ball of light.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“Our abilities have a basis in both mentality and physicality, though sometimes they can lean towards one more. Meaning, to actually perform the divine acts you are capable of, you need to learn to utilize your body as well as your mind. Visualization, then manifestation. You need a clear vision of what you want to happen, and then do it.

“One thing I noticed in all the years I lived on Algyria, is when the younger generations were learning control of their domains, things like simple hand motions could be of great help. To better guide the flow of their powers. Hold your hands together, like so.” He held his hands in front of his chest, palms facing each other, a few inches apart.

Jonathan resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing how silly this looked.

“And then I want you to concentrate. Remember, you must visualize first. Imagine a bright ball of pure energy humming between your palms, like a miniature sun.”

Jonathan closed his eyes, picturing it in his mind. He could see it in his mind’s eye, a golf-ball-sized sphere of dim yellowish-white light.

“Breathe,” said Sytris’s voice, as if from miles away. Jon’s chest rose and fell with every deep breath he took, his fingers shaking slightly as he tried to keep his hands steady, focusing intently on the ball.

“Now try to create that light. Imagine it streaming from your fingers. Not forming out of nowhere, but coming from you directly. As if you are your own star, producing your own light.”

Jonathan did exactly that, letting his imagination weave the image across the surface of his mind. He opened his eyes — and found the space between his palms completely empty.

“Didn’t work,” he grumbled.

“That’s okay. No one expects to get it the first time. It’s about persistence. Master your mind and you master your powers… Try again…”

Cursing under his breath, Jonathan returned to his original position, arms held a few inches apart. Sytris’s voice washed over him, repeating the same instructions from earlier. Settle your mind… visualize the end result… imagine it happening…

But there wasn’t so much as a spark.

“Is there something else we can try?” Jon asked, starting to get frustrated.

Sytris exhaled through his nose. “Very well. Perhaps generating light might be too advanced a step for you right now. How about absorbing it?”

With a snap of his fingers, the two candles in front of them ignited, their flames burning bright and steady.

“Absorbing light? Is that even possible?”

“Of course it is. Light is your dominion, you have absolute control over it. And besides, it is something I witnessed you perform myself.”

“You mean when I was younger, before our memories were erased?”

“Precisely. You all had at least a basic understanding and sense of control of your abilities when you were children. All you have to do is find a way to reconnect with your powers, the way you did back then. It shouldn’t be too hard; you learned it when you were mere kids after all.”

Jon took another deep breath, turning his focus to the candle on his left. A pleasant aroma was wafting from it. Jon fixed his gaze upon it, trying hard not to blink.

Visualization, then manifestation…

In his mind’s eye he conjured the image of the flame steadily going out, losing its radiance as it flowed into him instead. He raised his open palm towards the candle, concentrating hard. He continued like this for almost a whole minute, watched intently by the caretaker, but not a single change occurred.

“This isn’t working,” he said, standing up.

“Where are you going?”

“To get something to drink. This is pointless.”

He closed the door behind him with a snap, ignoring Sytris’s pleas to make just a few more attempts. He supposed he could have stayed for a bit longer, but the lack of results — as understandable as it was, given that they had only learned of their heritage yesterday — still made him feel like a failure. He loathed the feeling of inadequacy, the sinking feeling of shame that followed him. How on earth a five year old him had managed to get the hang of his powers when he couldn’t even put out a candle was beyond him, but he —

Jon stopped dead. He had just walked into the kitchen, where of all the inhabitants of the mansion, Oscar alone remained the dining table, his bare, unwashed feet on the tabletop.

“What’s up, little brother?” he said, a vacant smile on his face.

Jon felt a twinge of discomfort at how he had been referenced, but he pushed it down. He was his younger brother, after all.

“Nothing, I just need a drink.”

“Like just a drink or…” Oscar looked around conspiratorially. “Or like a drink drink?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Jon opened the fridge and withdrew a mango-flavoured juice carton, then held it up. “I don’t drink the other stuff.”

“That’s good. Very responsible of you,” Oscar said, with a wide smile. Jonathan couldn’t tell if he was teasing him or not. “So how’s the training sesh going?”

The flicker of irritation returned. “Just taking a break.”

“Mmm… You failed at everything he told you to try, didn’t you?”

Jonathan froze, the straw paused at his lip, taken aback.

“No shame in it. Here’s a little secret, I did too. It took me three years to learn how to make an apple.”

Jonathan took a few steps closer to him, eyebrows furrowed. “When exactly did your parents tell you about your powers?”

“Well, that’s the funny part. They didn’t actually tell me until weeks after I discovered them on my own.” Seeing the confused look on Jon’s face, Oscar sat up straight in his chair and continued. “December 22nd, 2008. I remember that day very vividly. I’d been sent to a boys’ home earlier in the year because of some… behavioural issues.” He sketched air quotes around the words with his fingers. “Unavoidable at that point, but not a pleasant experience. My folks made me swear that I’d never take this off the whole time I was up there” — he fingered the brilliant amethyst necklace at his throat — “and I really did plan to. But let’s just say, even after four months there I wasn’t exactly a reformed delinquent.

“I got into a few spats with some of my fellow troublemakers, ended up attracting the attention of one very mean supervisor called Ms. Roach. She punished me relentlessly, but nothing really worked. So eventually she went for a different angle. I guess she realized how important the necklace was to me and confiscated it, and obviously at the time I had no idea what its real purpose was.

“Shortly after snatching it from me, they decided to host a movie night with the kids who were more well-behaved. It was Ms. Roach’s idea, and I was conveniently the only one left out — which I’m sure was a total coincidence.

“But I decided to sneak down there that night and watched a good chunk of the movie too, didn’t realize what genre they’d opted for though. Ended up having a slew of nightmares, and that’s when it started. Because instead of just seeing the monsters on the screen —”

“You started manifesting them in real life.”

Oscar made a clicking noise of affirmation. “It was chaos. Three headed demon lizards, six-foot-tall spiders, flaming demon horsemen, all running around the institute for a whole night… Eventually the illusions faded, no one was hurt of course but when the police arrived and realized that absolutely nothing was recorded on camera, they thought everyone was either lying or having a mental break. Institution was shut down and everyone went home, and my folks shipped me out of town before anyone could notice we were gone. They explained everything to me afterwards.”

“One heck of a backstory.”

“You’re telling me. At first they tried to deny everything, said it was just my imagination in hyperdrive. Even got a few pharmaceuticals and a psychiatrist to help. Well, the goodies did, but even drugs couldn’t hide the truth, because I ended up creating new illusions over the next few weeks. Eventually they cracked and told me everything, but they never reached out to Sytris about it. Never wanted him to know they messed up as bad as they did. It took me years to perfect the craft, but…”

With a wiggle of his fingers, the words, “I did it” traced themselves through the air, written in large cursive letters made of what looked like smoke. Then it was dispelled.

“How did you do it, though?”

“Practice, commitment and lots of trial and error that resulted in months of therapy for innocent bystanders.” Oscar shrugged, closing his eyes as if he was about to doze off.

Jon bit his lip, thinking hard. “Can you teach me?”

Oscar’s eyes opened very slowly. “Teach you?”

“Yeah, the same way you learned.”

“I mean… I don’t think my methods will translate that well for you.”

“Please,” Jonathan said.

Oscar looked up at him, his bright green eyes oddly serious. He took a great breath, then — “No.”

“What?” Jonathan sputtered, taken aback.

Oscar laughed. “I’m just messing with you. Yeah, sure I’ll help. But I warn you, how I learned isn’t really what you’d call orthodox.”

“I can handle a little weirdness.”

“If you say so. But we can’t do it here. There’s something else we need for the process.”

“Like what?”

“Something that we can’t find in these cupboards.” He looked around, as if to see if anyone was around. “Up for a little trip into town?”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to leave the house?”

“When has that ever stopped anybody?” Oscar asked. Strangely, the expression on his face looked completely serious, as if he was actually being genuine.

“Never mind. How are we supposed to get into the city? I can’t drive, and I doubt even if we swiped someone’s keys that no one would notice the car leaving the lot — oh you want to steal the ventus?” he said, comprehension finally dawning.

“Not really stealing if she originally belonged to you, right?” Oscar said, wiggling his eyebrows again. “Don’t worry, we won’t spend long. If anyone asks we were exploring the mansion.”

Taking great care to ensure the coast was clear, the duo made their way out of the house and over into the garden where the ventus was resting. Her emerald mane billowed in the window, leaves scuttling across the ground around her, but she stirred as they approached. She leapt up immediately, nuzzling Jonathan contentedly. He let out a small but genuine laugh.

He couldn’t remember anything about her from his previous life on Algyria, but she felt familiar, as if the memories of her were buried just underneath the surface of his mind.

“You up for a ride?” he asked. She whinnied in approval. Still taking care to ensure that nobody was watching, they climbed atop the ventus and rode off, into the sky.

It was rather uncomfortable, adjusting to the lighter air, the sudden warmth and the blinding sunlight in their eyes. But Jonathan felt wonderfully free in the sky, as if they had left more than the mansion behind them; it was as if all his worries been blown away in the breeze. They rode for half an hour, according to the watch Jon had brought with him.

Eventually he guided the ventus down, into a patch of trees near the city where they could take shelter.

“Wait here for us, Skylar,” Jon said, as they dismounted. She disappeared, evaporating into a cloud of green wind that eventually faded into the late morning air. They took off, down the small dirt path leading to the town they had been watching from overhead. “What are we doing here anyway?”

“I was doing some research before we left, turns out there’s a backpacker bar nearby that sells laughing gas balloons.”

“Why would you need laughing gas?” he asked, astounded.

“It’s one of the things my old shrink recommended me whenever I had a really bad episode. Works wonders. Helps to ease the mind, puts you in a state of euphoria — believe it or not, it made it easier to access my powers. You can try to clear your mind all you like, the way they do in cheesy old cartoons. But that almost never works.

“All of us have way too much going on in here to brush it under the rug just like that.” He tapped his knuckles against his head. “Sometimes you just need a little assistance, and that’s what we’re here for.”

They entered the city several minutes after. The streets were crowded, full of people who looked completely unconcerned, oblivious to the fact that magical creatures roamed their world.

Jon suddenly felt selfish, realizing how much danger they had put these people in by coming here when they knew the Harbingers were sending monsters after them.

“Let’s just make this quick, all right?”

The bar Oscar had found was just a short ways up ahead, surrounded by a number of shady-looking figures who sat outside, catcalling passersby or hurling insults at them. Jon stared apprehensively at them, but Oscar was grinning.

“Stay here, I know how to handle these guys.”

“I’d bet you do,” Jon said under his breath, as Oscar headed into the bar. He surveyed the area, taking in the extremely littered street or the strange-looking people who occupied this region, when a loud shattering of glass rent the air. He whipped around in alarm, but the people on the outside of the bar merely glanced inside and resumed their drunken ramblings. Maybe it was just an accident? In any case, he hoped Oscar would hurry. He was getting a bad feeling from this place.

Several minutes later he reappeared, black knapsack in hand.

“Found it.”

“How’d you even get that?”

“An illusionist never reveals his secrets,” Oscar said with a wink. “Come on, this process is better completed with some nice background scenery.”

They headed back down the path towards the area they had touched down, but instead of taking the right that would lead them where Skylar was waiting for them, they turned leftwards, where they could hear rushing water in the distance. They pushed through thickets of vines and brambles, finally emerging onto the scene of a small river winding through the path around them.

“This should do,” Oscar said happily. He pulled off the knapsack and opened it, revealing several black balloons, two of which he passed to Jon. “Suck the air out of these.”

Jon looked down at them, deeply uncomfortable. “I don’t know about this…”

“I thought you said you could handle a little weirdness?” he said slyly.

Jon exhaled, then snatched the balloons out of his hand and drained the air out of them. They were very small, but for all it felt to Jon they may have been the size of parachutes. With every breath he took in, he felt increasingly more lightheaded. When finally he had drained the second balloon, he almost keeled over, but Oscar caught him.

“Easy there. Should have warned you about that, you may feel a bit off for a few minutes.”

But Jon didn’t feel off at all… In fact, he felt euphoric. It was as if someone had injected liquid sunshine into his very veins. He cracked a wide grin, which turned into a raucous laugh, and he found that he couldn’t stop. It continued for almost a whole minute; his lungs were aching, but he couldn’t stop himself from giggling like a madman. Eventually he managed to stop, taking great gasps to catch his breath.

“Huh, the doses weren’t that concentrated, shouldn’t have affected you this strongly. Just try to remember why you’re here. It was to help you gain control, right?”

“I f-feel very in control right now,” Jon laughed. “Like super in control. I’m the master of control.”

“Oookay, definitely no more drugs for you in the future,”Oscar said. “Focus, Jon. We’re here to help you learn how to use your powers. You told me what Sytris told you to do, remember? Try to do that again. Close your eyes, breathe, concentrate.”

Trying to bring his mind into focus felt like trying to pull a cruise ship back to the dock with a fraying piece of rope. He felt so lightheaded he was afraid for a moment that a strong enough breeze would send him sailing away. But he tried it regardless, remembering the scene of that plain room with the coloured cushions and the scented candles, Sytris’s voice echoing in his incredibly empty mind as if he was right there breathing the words in his ear.

“Now try to generate that ball of light again…”

He visualized the sphere of energy in his mind again; the image was rather blurry compared to earlier, as he struggled to regain his focus. But he pinched his thigh, forcing himself back to earth.

“Do it.”

Jon moved his hands apart, ever so slightly. This time, a spiral of light blossomed in his hands. It was far too small and entirely the wrong colour than what he had imagined, but it had worked!

“You did it!” Oscar said.

“I… I did.”

They marveled at the ball of light for a few moments, as Jon tossed it between his palms like an actual ball. Somewhere behind them, a loud splash sounded out. Darkness fell over them as if an eclipse had abruptly blotted out the sun. In front of him, Oscar’s bright green eyes were fixed on the sky, his jaw hanging open.

“What is it?”

Oscar pointed, and Jon turned to see a titanic serpent, acid-green in colour and coated in dozens of cruel, serrated, steel-grey scales hovering over them, its evil, slitted eyes bared down at them.

They sat in silence, staring up at in horror.

“MOVE!” Oscar shouted, but it was far too late. Before Jon could even think to stand the snake lashed out at them like a whip. He felt Oscar’s hands on his back, and then himself flying sideways, just as the snake crashed into the dirt around them. He went tumbling away, but as he righted himself, he looked up to see the snake retreating into the water, clutching one of Oscar’s legs as he let out a chilling scream. Then they disappeared into the water with an almighty splash.