“Any questions thus far?” the scholar inquired.
Several hands shot up, and she started calling on individuals from the amphitheater. I kept taking my notes, but my ears perked up at a certain query.
“Are there any theories as to why humans can only attune to one element? Resonant mortals have less aether in our bodies than the gods, but it’s still pure aether, is it not? In such a circumstance, shouldn’t we just have the same range of power as the Aetherborne, but to a lessened extent?”
“Ah, an excellent consideration. Does anyone here know the answer?”
The room fell silent, so apparently not.
“The more popular theory, of course, is that Resonance is impacted by genetics. Perhaps the first generation of humans had been impacted by random chance, but it became more predictable over time. We have clear examples of family lines producing the same Resonances over generations, with the most noteworthy being the ruling families of the Courts,” she explained.
This was true. It was also how each territory became somewhat synonymous with a certain element of aether: Samhaven and the House of Torrents, Vindyrst and the House of Gales, Ithreac and the House of Clay, Pyrhhas and the House of Embers, Luxtos & Stygos—the Astral & Umbral Isles, and the House of Light & Shadow.
“The second theory takes into account the more random nature of some Resonant births, and has us consider the possibility that when a child is born with enough aether in their veins to be Resonant, there is a certain developmental period where their Resonance has yet to be determined. This theory purports that a Resonant attunes to the strongest density of aetheric energy that they encounter first during that period of aetheric maturity.”
That seemed like a weaker argument, though. Perhaps one developed to excuse streaks of infidelity among the ruling Houses, but what did I know?
“Both theories, of course, rely on the base concept that the ratio of blood to aether is what limits us to a single element, which is all but proven at this point.”
Something about that explanation didn’t entirely add up, but before I could start to mull over why it wasn’t sitting right in my brain, my train of thought was interrupted.
“But what about the legend of the Harbingers?” A young male student interrupted. Merrick, I think his name was.
Harbingers?
The younger Conduit’s eyes were wide and fearful as he continued on. “I mean, according to the Irrosi, a mortalcouldbe born with the power of the gods! But when that happens, it’s supposed to be a sign of the end of days, right? Because it would break all the laws of arcane science, disrupt the balance, and trigger a second Cataclysm. A single Harbinger could kill us all.”
My stomach lurched.It’s just a story, I reminded myself.Just a stupid legend that you’ve never even heard of.
And he was probably exaggerating. Embellishing.
“Such things would be better discussed in a cultural history or anthropology course, Merrick. We do not study myths and legends here, only science,” the scholar said firmly.
“Apologies, ma’am.”
The damage had been done, though. I struggled to pay attention to the rest of the lecture, and found myself getting increasingly frustrated with my wandering mind. Amaretta would be reeling to know that I put any sort of stock into some old Irrosi wives tale, but I couldn’t help but feel spooked—haunted by even the slightest of chances...
Because every legend had its origin, every tall tale carried some kernel of truth, some spark of inspiration that was anchored in reality. Such was the nature of storytelling.
So what if there was some truth there? Was Ithatdangerous? Did my parents know? Is that why they left me behind in the woods that night? Could it be possible that my parents knew what I was, and just couldn’t bring themselves to save the world? Was that why they had abandoned me out there in the wilderness? In hopes that someone—or something—else might do it for them?
I shook my head and took a deep breath, trying to let go of the paranoid and intrusive thoughts. I could always look into the legend later, find more tangible evidence or context to soothe my nerves.
Thankfully, the remainder of the lecture resumed free of any more damning theories about my existence.
My classes wrapped up for the day around half past three, which left me with a bit of a conundrum.
Kieran told me to meet him at four, and the Elder Guard headquarters were about ten minutes away from the lecture hall. My apartment was about twenty minutes in the opposite direction, though, if I wanted to drop off my things and freshen up. I was essentially trapped between being awkward and early,or late—and I hated being late to anything. I sighed, really wishing that I’d thought ahead.
Why, though? Who are you even trying to impress?
I cringed at the internalized snark, realizing that even though Kieran and I had agreed to keep things platonic, I still found myself wanting to impress him. I was going to have to get over that sooner or later.
It didn’t help that I hadn’t been with anyone else since arriving in Sophrosyne. I had flirted, had a few close encounters at the tavern once or twice, even exchanged a kiss or two with pretty strangers in the city. But I hadn’t slept with anyone since Graysen. I had barely even thought about Grays since leaving the Brindlewoods, and we had broken up long before I left for Sophrosyne, so to say that I was in a bit of a dry spell was an understatement. That explained a lot.
I was able to find the guard headquarters without issue, and had been about to seek someone out to direct me to Kieran’s office when, speak of the daemon, I heard his voice booming from the grassy fields behind the main building.
“Again!” he shouted, and I followed the sound to find where he was training a group of younger looking men and women—fresh recruits, I’d presume.