The air was cold. And he was at ease. Thinking. Measuring. The duty of the son was the glory of the father. Taslin Solis was a young man with big dreams. So great was his hunger and hate that it came to define him entirely. Twisted him into this corrupted beauty of a handsome man. He was dark-skinned and well built. Muscular arms and legs from hard training as well as possessing quick reflexes. Taslin had balanced facial thirds with a well combed afro. All his limbs had been honed for speed and coordination. Taslin had been born 100,980 years later on the 1st day of the 13th month in accordance with the Reolan star calendar. It was presently the year 101,000 now. He had turned twenty years old a few weeks ago and was now eligible for the Academy of Magical Arts and Retribution. Morning had come and his preparation for the new school year had come to an end. He didn't want to go to the Academy but if he wanted to dig himself out of the middle class standing of the house of Solis, he would have to be ruthless and quick.
The academy didn't teach magic and it was just the name given to the advanced line of technology weaved into the human genome. Augmentation. Taslin was dressed in the Elzar school uniform of a Navy long sleeve jacket and trousers. His trousers and white shirt were ironed. Though his shirt was untucked and his suit jacket hung open with his blue tie loose around his neck like a noose. His black oxfords were well polished.
He had been sitting for a while on his bed, while dressed and staring at his right hand—it had healed since the incident, before it would spasm in little intervals and stop almost immediately. It wasn't frequent now but he had experienced it a lot when he was still recovering. Although this was the first time in a few years, it happened when he was sixteen. The boys and girls to Taslin's surprise hadn't told anyone of the gauntlet, perhaps the shame of being beaten by a boy of his status was too great. The six of them were durable for their age. Taslin had fought to maim them that day but he would take their humiliation instead. His parents were supportive but didn't pursue the matter—they just wanted their son to get the medical treatment he deserved. Taslin's hand wasn't shaking anymore but habit compelled him to examine it after he felt a twitch. Perhaps it was an echo of the previous injury or nerve damage. Either way, the incident had allowed him to develop a firmer grasp of his own mental health, and to engage in self care.
Taslin placed both his hands together to pray. "I will give thanks to you, oh Sun. For though you are angry with me, your anger turned away, and you comforted me. For you are my salvation, I will trust, and I will not be afraid." It was a habitual response. A nature infused into him from an early age. Even now, with all his predisposition to the brutality of life, he couldn't escape the conditioning. It allowed him to compartmentalise more effectively, and commit to his duality without flinching. It was this duality which was necessary to shape him into an unusual paradox for the Reolan Empire, a man capable of instinctual ruthlessness and violence, whilst also providing stability and guidance. Yet he was still inadequate and left wanting. Bear in mind this did nothing to stop the pain. Though it gave him a sense of ease. He stood and made his way to the door. Outside his room he met his father and mother. And joined them down stairs at the dinner table.
"Salutations, Dad." Taslin said, before he took a seat and turned to his mother. "Salutations, Mom." They were good folks of honourable professions in the small town of Danequell. Leomas Solis, his father, was a humble engineer that invested in farming and agriculture. His dark face was littered sparingly with wrinkles and hard lines with his low buzzed hair and dark beard. Alice Solis, his mother, was a farmer and florist, she had an elvish face with dark skin. Her black hair hung freely over her shoulders. They both wore the red string of fate on the ring finger—a Reolan red tungsten ring—it signified that they were married. Not only compatible but destined for each other, regardless of whatever outcome. Taslin loved them but understood that if he wanted to make a name for himself, he had to work twice as hard; the Zords, the Varrichs and every other high family endured as a result of possessing wealth, power and unique magical abilities. House Solis had numerous branches under its name with indeterminate history like every other house, especially House Jeg. Taslin's ancestry under the Solis name was of African descent but what was clear was that the House Solis drew the short straw on power and wealth. Taslin had mild regenerative capabilities but that was not impressive compared to flight, telekinesis and fire control exhibited by other houses. For that reason, he had honed his hand-to-hand skills and read far and wide in the little library in their small town. They were seated at their hybrid marble and wood dining table. Taslin placed his hands together in prayer before they started eating "Thank you for this food we are about to receive to nourish and strengthen our bodies. Thank you for keeping us together as a family and thank you for giving us the grace to endure. Amen."
"Are you ready?" Leomas Solis said. He wanted to assess his son's readiness for his mission of leaving home. He sometimes felt guilty of failing to provide a comfortable existence for Taslin, but all fingers weren't equal as it was in the realm of Reola. Everyone had a role to play. "I'm ready father. I won't fail." Taslin said. He spooned some sweet potato into his mouth along with the roasted turkey. He was on edge but not anxious. "I'm sure you are," Alice Solis said. "You and your father have been training and working hard, I am sure it will work out well. I am happy for your admission. My son is gifted."
"Elzar is only for the strong and the most wealthy," Leomas Solis said. He turned to look at his son with piercing brown eyes "I am proud of you even though it was hard."
Taslin smiled, winning was everything to him but he loved to be acknowledged by his father. Life was precious. Taslin's father was a good fighter and taught him well but he wasn't the best and he was going into a different environment, he could be bested or even killed but he steeled himself. "I am done eating. I will wait for you outside, father." Taslin said. He rose and gave a smile at his mother who smiled back affectionately.
***
It all started with X. The unknown. The only way to succeed in this dark world was to become so strong that your very existence became an act of rebellion. Taslin sighed as he watched the train go by city-states, fields of fruits and flowers and the floating fire schools of the Palandaris Esoterica sitting on the air within a valley of pure white ruins of buildings that used to be the beautiful city-state of Jericho. Destroyed decades ago by some unknown fire curse. It was said that the people of Jericho surrounded and worshiped the colour white. Still he saw little children of different races in their flowing kaftans of pure white playing below in one of the floating stadiums around the school. One dark-skinned boy turned his head to see him above in the train. His shining black eyes were full of curiosity or—perhaps cruelty. Taslin always found students from there strange. He admired the moving cruise ships of a rich family. It was hovering in the clouds, it's joyful noise insulated by its pulse bubble.
The cards were not in his favour or anyone else's. So what was X? Everyone had X. Everyone was still looking for X. But why? The answer was simple. X was the unfair advantage. Remember what you could create doesn't exceed the bounds of your own potential. All the winners were not playing fair. To catch up you had to identify your unfair advantage and abuse it. There was a saying that even if the bus was full. The driver seat would still be empty.
They rode the train out of town to Logas, a rich trade city-state dealing with livestock, mines with precious metals and alien tech as well as foreign arts. "It is beautiful, isn't it?" Leomas said, as the train passed a valley of cows and horses. Taslin's father was well dressed in a black suit with a tie and shoes. Accompanying his son on his first voyage out of town was important. Although from a low and unimportant name, he wasn't about to provide an opportunity for bad actors that wish to do his family harm. There had been stories and if Leomas dared say—rumors of assassinations and kidnapping. The realm of Reola was becoming increasingly unsafe and the future wasn't certain.
Elzar was safe but that didn't mean the journey to the city was safe too. Taslin was eager to wander the parks at Elzar and visit the libraries. He had heard rumors back home that tutors could be overwhelming. But he didn't care, he wanted to be stronger, richer and independent. The beautiful gates of Elzar were coming into view and Taslin was awakened from his daydreaming. Multiple red flags of Reola hung everywhere, vaunting the pride of the people.
The red flag of Reola with its golden design, a gold circle housing a triangle with a smaller gold circle in its inner centre, lines radiated outwards from the outer circle. Three gold lines above and below with one to each side. The flags danced in the public as the cool breeze blew past them. Two huge marble white statues of a male and female Kaatar-Imperator framed the sides of the gate in their exo-armour and helmet mask displaying a golden circle. The male held a sword raised high above his head and the female wielded an axe to her side. It was symbolic for their faces to be hidden. They were the angels of Reola. The Lightbearers. For in them there was no darkness at all. At the top of the arch at the brilliant bone white gates was a short phrase that everyone of the Reolan Empire was all too familiar with, all too well. The phrase that every dead civilisation crushed in its advance had come to recognise, REOLO IMPERIO.
Taslin shivered at the thought—he felt it every time he rewatched their charge on his smartphone at alien xenos and foreign life. He could hear the fanatical legions of the Reolan Imperium screaming and roaring the phrase at the top of their lungs as they killed planets. And wondered in the dark recess of his mind, if he too will become a hierophant and exalt a charge.
"It is a beautiful place, our station is coming up soon" Leomas said, as the train station came into perspective. Taslin walked alongside his father and watched the crowd. There were other kids dressed in the school's colours. Taslin saw two sisters, twins walking side by side, all dainty and pale. He avoided staring and watched the grand clock in the school entrance, his father having helped him with his bags had taken pictures with him and decided to take the next train back to Danequell. But not before he spoke.
"Live so hard, my son. So that when the time comes, you smile upon death and are held by your word. My dear son, unconquered you are. Live so hard that you forget that the end comes for us all. Move without regret, so that if you are fortunate enough to have a deathbed, or to return to the dirt. You will be at ease." Taslin's father said, staring opposite him. With both hands, Leomas took his son's shoulders. "It will get better. Or at the very least, you will get better. Fight my son, fight until your heart explodes. Do not go to your knees. Do not surrender your light."
"Your words ground me in the present and here, I am unbreakable." Taslin said. He hugged his father.
"So I have heard. I have booked already. Arrange yourself, I will be long. I leave now, Taslin." His father smiled and left him. Taslin closed his eyes for a while and opened them. His father's back was gone. And so was time. A young man and his entourage of servants levitated across the reception room, Taslin recognised him as a son of a wealthy merchant. The young man's name was Zet Vassar and he would be a challenge, Taslin thought. Zet Vassar carried an aloofness to him, his green eyes combing through the sparse crowd below.
Taslin had seen the Zords pass through but the Varrichs were yet to be seen. Taslin's reason for observing his soon to be classmates was simple and primal. He was a winner and it defines who he was, he was painfully aware of his inadequacies. Fate was stacked against him. Land, wealth and power had eluded the path of birth all that remained was to sharpen what one had. He gazed at his watch, a simple digital amalgamation he put together; it was almost evening. He had been sitting for a while. Watching students go by, while putting up a practiced act of rummaging through his bag. Zet Vassar was a noble who had been the craze at Elzar for a while and a beacon of admiration. Taslin wanted to defeat him in the upcoming Atmos tournaments which could make or break one's reputation. If a person wasn't a made-man, descendant from a powerful house—they could never recover.
Most didn't share Taslin's ambition and he had learned from primary school to be private about his mission. He couldn't prop himself on the Solis fortune. It was enough but compared to other houses, it was meager. He knew on a personal basis why men like him are drawn to vices and immoral means to moral ends. Taslin loved winning—full stop. He saw a lot of his actions as justified and necessary. He was playing by the same rules as his enemies. Taslin watched Zet walk around the reception with a group of friends, most likely family friends. Friends Zet grew up knowing. Funny how one never really knows one's friends until they embrace an opportunity to prove themselves. Taslin remembered the scholarship that had allowed him the grace to be sat here, he had killed. He had killed other boys and girls. All low houses like him and some even lower. It was a five day kill match in a forest off the coast of Reola. Most never survived and those who did are too maimed and scarred to pursue an education at Elzar, The juice wasn't worth the squeeze. It was a match to determine who gets picked as only one could remain. Most never partook in the scholarship exams. Most were too rich to kill. Zet had the ability to control fire but he didn't mind, growing up as a Solis with little options on augments had taught him to recognise other talents he had; Knife combat, engineering, sailing and navigation, cooking and more. With the guidance of his father, he had learned to grow self esteem and not shrink from the sight of the high houses. Taslin stood after having absorbed enough visual information on Zet Vassar. Scrolls, digital data and information on high houses were not public but also not difficult to obtain. One just had to know a fixer or broker, pretty much anyone with access to intelligence. His father had taught him a skill called cold reading. It allowed him to divine a person's abilities and will by observation. He understood that reading about someone and actively watching them in patience in order to deduce weakness he could exploit were two different things. He began to shadow Nephla Bethalin-Zord from a careful distance. She was beautiful with grey eyes and white hair. Taslin's eyes danced about her, she was attractive in her academy uniform; navy blue blazer with a tie of the same colour over a white shirt and pleated skirt of blue and white. Like all girls in the large room of white marble columns, Nephla wore white socks and black loafers. The stories of her having inherited unlimited power were just that—stories. But one could never be too sure. In the crowd of other students, he was effectively invisible as he watched her.
Nephla spoke vehemently with joy to other students who flocked to her; Lucius Satin, a handsome pale blonde haired boy with an easy charm to him. Most in house Satin had the ability to control water. Taslin also recognised another face: Bluries Chinti, a dark skinned girl with exceptionally toned legs, wearing a blue and white pleated skirt that ended at her knees. Her face was incredibly symmetrical to a sense of being almost artificial, as though measured by a micrometer. There was a sharpness to her downturned red eyes, and prominent silver tattoos of floral swirls all over her body. Taslin assumed because the floral swirls of silver appeared on the back of her hands and originated out of her exposed neck to the cheeks of her face and forehead. Not to mention her legs again. Taslin didn't mind the crowd obstructing his view. He was here to win, not make friends. Taslin looked at his watch again and decided to leave the reception grounds, he didn't like staying in one place all the time. A moving target is a hard target. He couldn't afford to ease up on the measures that had allowed him to be the only one in his set to enter Elzar on a scholarship after killing the Drassaki shapeshifter during the special admissions exams with nothing but a Rylanium dagger. Every child in this class year was either lazy or too rich to take the exams but were all equally powerful. Taslin was only here on merit.