Scion of Storms Prologue

6th September 2022

That's right, book two is on its way.

Manifestation, Book Two, is now in editing! To celebrate, I’m posting the prologue for all!

The Stormwall raged.

Lightning boomed from the black clouds above and thundered down into the gaping mouth of the maelstrom. An exposed claw of glass rising from the exposed seabed exploded as the strike connected.

Applicant Theolatos sat hidden on the floor of the ocean in a bubble of air held up solely by his will, undisturbed by the massive whirlpool only a stone’s throw away. He waited, and watched the lightning through the swirling walls of water that made the Mouth. His spiritual power lay veiled.

Flickers of light shimmered around him as spirits feasted on the traces of aeon delivered by the lightning. Power always begot power. Lightning to aeon. Aeon to spirits. Spirits to hunters. Hunters to him.

Theolatos closed his eyes, opening his spiritual senses wide.

They were here.

Two men shot down through the Mouth. Their feet slammed into the seabed, cracking its glassy surface. Intricate tattoos covered both of their arms, geometric patterns flowing from their shoulders down onto their hands, the designs proudly proclaiming the men to be elders of the Sect of Seven Lakes. Scaled vests covered muscled figures, and a pair of axes hung from each of their waists. The pair raised their hands and their aeon burst forth. The light given off from its diffusion washed over the jagged glass, reflected off their shaved heads, glittered off the walls of water, and illuminated the Applicant as he stepped through the water.

Theolatos released his veil. “Elders,” he said with a polite nod, “this nexus is under the protection of the Divine Sovereign Atareus, Lord of Knowledge.”

The men turned to face Theolatos, hands straying to the hilts of their weapons. The Applicant felt their awareness spread out, as they searched for any other souls nearby. Finding no other disturbances in the natural flow of aeon, one of the men stepped forward and addressed him. “What you say, this is curious, for I see not a god here. Just a man.”

“Strange, that an Applicant would challenge his betters,” the second man said derisively. “I doubt he will be missed, brother.”

Theolatos smiled, his pale eyes sizing up his two opponents.

He found them wanting.

“I shall ensure your sect know you died with honour,” he said.

The warriors leapt forward with inhuman speed, axes sweeping out in a deadly blur.

The Applicant was faster. Theolatos unleashed his own Technique, channelling his power up through the spirit heart Atareus had bestowed on him. By the time his aeon reached his own formation, it seethed with aspects of destruction, vibrating with such potent finality that it almost broke his own formation. The spirits around him fled in an instant. A black cloud burst from the Applicant’s body as the warriors closed in, swallowing them whole. The maelstrom was plunged into darkness as even light was consumed by the cloud. The oily surface of the sphere contracted, surging back to the Applicant. In its wake, only silence remained.

The Applicant hovered in the air amid the sudden devastation.

Water crashed down to the glass seabed as nature filled the void he had made.

Divine Atareus would surely have felt this confrontation, even on the other side of the continent. Any Sovereign would. The bitter smell of destruction filled the air, the ground now tainted with the echoes of his Technique. It would take weeks for his aeon signature to fade and for spirits to return.

The nexus would have no harvest now.

He reached down to his belt, activating one of the few artifacts around his body. In a flash of golden light, he disappeared.

Thousands of miles away, Atareus smiled.

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