Kalon Bloodborn's POV
The darkness around me dissolved. My head felt so light, a great feeling of emptiness. Slowly, my vision cleared. A familiar painting of a young boy between two middle aged Lamian framed on the wall.
I remebered. I was Kalon, the only child of two great scholars. I was sitting at a table made of polished oak tree that gave a familiar scent of home.
Together with my parents, we dined peacefully. It was easing, something I hadn't realized I possessed until it was stripped away. To eat without worry at who may come at my door, or what was expected of me the next day. My teeth munched on the roasted meat that filled my mouth. Taking my time to savor its taste before dipping my spoon into the soup. It had the perfect scent of my mother's food, I had grown accustomed to.
I set my plate aside, feeling a fullness in my chest that had nothing to do with the food. I slid a little closer to my father's side.
"Father, could you tell the story about the nine races of Enora again? Please?" I asked. My voice felt distant, almost it weren't part of my thoughts. Instead it just came out with younger, brimming with excitement.
In Bloodville, we remained tucked away in a corner of the world. Only occasionally did I see passerby. The reason I was so intrigued about the other races.
Father chuckled, reaching out to pat my hand. "Of course, son. Let's see, where should I begin-"
"Stop it, both of you!" My mother interrupted.
I looked at mother and a painful thud hit against my chest. She looked exactly as I remembered. She was stern but her beauty remained. She moved towards me, smoothing out my hair that managed to escape its tie, before giving my tunic a sharp tug.
Always disciplined and she expected me to be same. Whether it was the way I channeled mana during my afternoon lessons or the respect I showed to the town elders, she demanded a standard which was nothing short of perfection. She was not a reed, she was my pillar.
"Neither of you has finished your meals. And here you go, diving into one of your stories again," mother said, turning to look at Father, but the stern look drop, and I could see the plea in her eyes. "Dear, he hasn't been focused in his lessons lately, and now he can't even maintain his manners."
Father return a defeated smile. Though mother maintained firmness, father was the opposite. He was quite jovial, often sharing a jar of wine with other lamians.
"Mother, please," I pleased. A grin formed on my face. "Dinner's a bit dull. At least let me hear the tale before bed."
She didn't respond immediately, merely looking away with an exaggerated sigh I had heard a thousand times before.
Father chimed in, leaning back in his chair. "The boy's right, Clara. It's just the three of us. This house is too quiet without a bit of history to fill the corners."
"And whose fault is that?" Mother shot back, a teasing smile finally appeared on her face. "You two always gang up on me. Kal never takes my side, cause he doesn't like rules."
"That's not true. I'll always be by your side." I panicked, waving my hands in denial.
She smiled fully then. "Well, if you say so. Go ahead then, but make sure you finish that soup."
Father adjusted himself, speaking.
"The giants" he began, his voice dropping into a low tone. "Colossal beings capable of leveling mountains and summoning quakes with a single step. A very proud and Nobel race, that value honor and tradition above all."
I leaned in, resting my chin on my palms.
"Their culture is teach in stone carving." Father held his hand over the table. A small bead of blood rose from a tiny prick on his thumb. The blood spun over his palm, expanding into a dark coagulated construct that resembled a jagged mountain range.
"Giants can even shapeshift into their smaller forms, they call ground state, which makes them look much like other Celestials," the blood construction morphed into a tiny, upright figure. "But in their colossal state, they are masters of the earth, manipulating the land as if it were a mere extension of their own limbs. They dwell in Tarvile, a city east to Stygia."
The blood constructs dissolved into a mist that glowed with a red hue. "North of Enora is Ancient Dragon City, the home of Sols. They command dragons."
Father spoke of the Vulcans. Grey skinned forge masters with horns that sprouted from their head. They lived in the ironhold Isles and were known for creating the greatest artifacts.
Father described the Nodens of Lemuria. Battle worn warriors that lived in a city filled with corals. He spoke of the Dryads, that bore hair which cascades in blossoms.These beings hold the power to awaken life from barren earth. This particular race has a history of bloody feud with the giants. One that was brought to an end by the Oracle.
"The Oracle," I whispered. Upon calling the name my father's expression turned solemn.
"The Oracle is godlike, a lady of lords. She is the source of all truth, the one who guides the fate of Enora. It is her firm hand that has kept the peace between the nine races through catastrophes that would have brought Enora down. She is the reason we sleep in peace. Many long to take after her."
I had always wondered how one Celestial could rise so high above the rest. Enough to act as a sovereign.
"The Oracle is actually an Aeolian. A race that govern the winds and melodies of sound. They are ruling race of Enoria. Their domain, Aeolia, rests upon floating mountains. It is here, atop these lofty peaks, that the Oracle resides, overseeing the fate of Enoria with the wisdom of ages."
Father made it clear that the oracle is an Aeolian of great power. She was responsible for deciding the next guardian. The guardian itself was a position offered to a Celestial that had proved itself as greatest of its generation. Such a person would be made guardian, gaining power being comprehension. Power, I was told could mend the laws of the world.
"The Typhons. Beings of pure energy and light. Of all the nine races, that magic is the purest. As masters of pure mana, they can manipulate that raw magical energy with great precision, shaping it into constructs with ease. Their home, Goldstone city, harbours chimeric creatures. The Typhons have long had a good relationship with the Aeolians."
"And last, we have the Phantoms, a race that wields the magic of darkness. Their power is unlike any other, and you'll seldom find them outside of their land, Nyx. It's said they can foretell the deaths of any creature..."
Before he could finish, mother tapped her fingers on the table. "Phantoms aren't grotesque, dear. The real difference between the races lies in our magic, not appearances. You should tell him that, instead of scaring him"
Soon, we moved from the dinning table to the research chamber. It was the largest room in the house. The shelves were loaded with scrolls and fluid filled jars that contained specimen.
I sar on a stool in the corner, while my parents carried on with their affairs. Eventually my father looked up.
"Alright, son. Do you remember what your parents have researching all these years?" Father asked.
"Yes, father. You've both been working on the cause of the demons. The reason behind our world's bleeding."
Long, have i watched my parents immersed themselves in their work. While others children were off playing, I found comfort in watching my parents. I had lost interest in their games the moment I realized my parents were peering into the unknown.
"Yes" I continued. "The underlying cause. The spontaneous transmutation of Celestials and magical beast into demons."
Mother nodded, moving towards the center of the room where a large crystalline apparatus was made.
"This holds the truth, that we have long pursued."