A Distant Memory

[Nathan Cross]

10th of Ash, 123
Location: House Cross family estate outside Zaichaer proper

Nathan inhaled deeply, exhaling a misty cloud that mingled with the somber air around him. As he wandered through the remnants of the estate, his heart weighed heavy with memories that tugged at his soul. The once magnificent archway, a beacon of welcome, now stood as a crumbling sentinel of the past. He silently thanked his good fortune that the estate had been nestled away from the heart of the city, spared from the devastation that would have undoubtedly consumed it.

With a melancholic stroll, he reached the decaying fountain and perched on its edge. His gaze lingered upon the ancient oak tree at the entrance, its branches a curtain that had hidden him from the watchful eyes of his tutors. A bittersweet smile graced his lips as he contemplated the refuge this place had offered to others, even though it had been insufficient protection against the bitter cold and relentless wilderness. The estate, too, bore the scars of time, with its own structural hazards.

As Nathan's search for signs of life continued, the back door creaked in reluctant protest as he pushed it open. A cloud of dust greeted him like a long-lost friend. "Damn, it looks like nobody has set foot here in a lifetime," he mused, hastily covering his nose and mouth with his right arm. Determination guided him to the front door, but it remained obstinately unmoved, refusing to yield. Rather than risking its collapse upon him, he wisely chose not to force the issue.

On the first floor of the main building, he opened every window he could find, welcoming a gust of frigid air that offered respite from the stifling atmosphere. It was a small comfort. His journey continued to the second floor, where makeshift beds occupied rooms strewn with bandages and discarded remnants of the past. In the dim light, Nathan's eyes fell upon the room at the end of the hallway. To his surprise, the piano stood there, though its appearance was worn and aged. Nathan lifted the fallboard and pressed a key, only to be met with silence.

"Wait..." he whispered to himself, his fingers dancing over the keys in random sequences. Finally, a subtle click emanated from the bookshelf behind him. Pushing it aside, he revealed a concealed set of stone stairs leading upward. He marveled at the thought that this secret sanctuary had remained undiscovered for all these years.

Yet, as he took a hesitant step into the shadowy passage, he found himself retreating. The weight of memories pressed upon him, and he couldn't ignore the emotions tied to this place. Sitting beside the bookshelf, he leaned against the wall, lost in thought.
Nathan's mind drifted back to the day he had first stumbled upon this hidden room—the family painting, his father's journal, and the cryptic letter, all fragments of a puzzle he couldn't fully grasp. He sighed and closed his eyes.

"Mom, Dad... I miss you both," he whispered, his voice trembling with longing. "I hope you're resting in peace, wherever you are. Everything spiraled out of control after that fateful night. But at least Uncle Franz was there to take care of me. And the city... it exploded. I nearly perished in the explosion, yet fate had other plans."

His gaze shifted to his phasing hands, his voice tinged with regret. "You were right, Dad. The arcane is a force not to be trifled with. I thought I could master it, but..." He trailed off, staring at his elusive hands. "It's something beyond our control."

Frustration overwhelmed him, and he pounded the wall with his left hand, the echoes of his anguish reverberating through the room. "Damn it, why did I survive? I should have perished in that blast!" Nathan's cries echoed in the dark, a raw outpouring of grief and despair. "Why, damn it, why?"

Nathan's emotions welled up as he sat there, memories and grief washing over him. The weight of his past and the trauma he had endured came crashing down, and he couldn't hold back his tears any longer. He buried his face in his hands, sobbing quietly at first, and then with increasing intensity as the floodgates of his emotions burst open.

"Why did I survive?" Nathan cried out to the empty room, his voice filled with anguish. "Why did I have to witness everything fall apart? It's not fair..."

He continued to vent his frustration, anger, and sorrow, pounding on the wall as if it could provide some release for the pain he carried within him. The echoes of his cries bounced off the cold stone walls of the room, a stark reminder of the harsh reality he had endured. After what felt like an eternity, Nathan's outburst began to subside. He took deep, shuddering breaths, trying to regain his composure. His hands were bruised, and his throat was sore from shouting.

[Rune]

The sobs of the man, no longer young, echoed through the abandoned home, but it was not the only place they echoed. Since the events of the 34th of Searing, now more than a year past, a part of Nathan Cross had slipped, at times, away from the material plane.

Different rules bound the Aetheric plane and its inhabitants than those that control the physical, but they were no less binding. The Aetherium was not a place in the traditional sense of mortal minds, but did have substance, it existed in a way that was just as real. It was there that a shadow of the anguished words, a reverberation of the strength of the emotion behind them, vibrated through the other plane.

There were many creatures that might have been drawn to strong expressions rippling through the aether like an animal caught and struggling at the edge of the water so it would have been no surprise (had anyone been able to observe) when one pulled toward the weeping. It was not particularly large, in the way of such things, and seemed more curious than hungry, but drawn still, by its nature, to the need it could feel, toward the desire.

There were many places in Zaichaer now in which the separation between the realms was frayed, easy to peek through. The creature did so, a floating wisp of a being, and, seeing Nathan, spoke.

"What is it, that you desire?"

It asked, sounding perfectly normal on its own side of the thinned barrier, but in the material plane sounding like an echo itself. A hollow sound that made it difficult for one to tell which direction it had come from, and faint, as though coming from a long way off. Even for all of that, it was distinct, and, even more oddly, it spoke Common.

[Nathan Cross]

Nathan's heart pounded as he lifted his head, his eyes wide with disbelief. The voice that had echoed through the room couldn't be real, he thought. He couldn't afford to succumb to hallucinations, not now. A deep breath quivered in his lungs as he slowly rose to his feet. His voice trembled as he called out, "Who's there?" He scanned the room frantically, attempting to pinpoint the elusive source of the eerie echo. After a frenzied search, he came to a chilling conclusion—it was his Aidolon, the infernal entity he had made a devil's pact with.

In his trembling hand, Nathan discovered a crumpled pack of cigarettes. With a practiced but unsteady motion, he extracted one and lit it, the flame flickering in the dim room. He took a long, uneven drag and exhaled a cloud of smoke, using the familiar ritual to steady his nerves.

"What is it that I desire?" Nathan repeated with a hint of sarcasm, his voice laced with bitterness. "Velar's Clock and the Key," he continued, his voice a blend of desperation and determination. Velar, the Dragon God of Time, was etched into his memory from his uncle's stories. He had also never forgotten the enigmatic conversation between his father and a mysterious friend, alluding to the elusive Clock and Key. Nathan believed that they held the power to undo the catastrophe that had befallen him.

His voice wavered as he paused, memories of the devastating explosion flooding back. "Can you grant my desire?" he taunted the voice, still clinging to the belief that his Aidolon was toying with his sanity. He waited in silence, his skepticism growing more apparent. "Yeah, figures. You also don't know where it is, right, Crimson? Stop playing games," he muttered, a mixture of bitterness and resignation in his voice.

Returning to his spot near the concealed bookcase, Nathan sank to the floor, his body trembling with a potent mix of emotions. "I desire power," he confessed, the words tumbling out of him. "Power strong enough to prevent such a tragedy from happening again." He eyed the unseen presence with a mixture of defiance and despair. "Can you grant my desire?" he repeated, his tone tinged with both longing and disbelief. He chuckled bitterly, taking another drag of his cigarette. "You can't, can you?" His words hung in the heavy silence, a poignant expression of his desperate yearning for something that seemed perpetually out of reach.

[Rune]

It was not Nathan's Aidolon who answered him, but it was a spirit, peeking through the thinning of the realms that persisted around the human. Who the spirit answered to, or what it might answer to its own question were not obvious as it flitted, first to one side and then the other as though trying to get a better look at Nathan through through a dirty windowpane or murky water. It did seem to be listening with great attention, as though the answer to its ritual question were of utmost importance. Not until the answer was given and then the request made did it do more than observe and, even then, there was a delay. Whether it was caused by things moving oddly between the realms or a slowness to comprehend, once the information was gained the sprite perked up, saying in its small but solemn voice,

"Key. I can grant this."

As it spoke it seemed to push further into the material plane so it's form became more visible and quite obviously was not that of Crimson. It was about the height of an adult human, though it had no feet to lay upon the ground. From the calves up, where it was visible it seemed to waver, being first male in appearance and then female, body shapes changing from slim to curved to muscular all without any seeming intent of its own.

"Come," It commanded with a sense of assurance, "I will show you."

Hovering over to a specific place in the wall it waved a hand, delicate and elegant fading to strong and agile as it did so. The section of the wall disappeared, reveling a space the size of a doorway and a narrow set of stairs leading upwards. Glancing back only briefly the spirit began to glide upwards, ignoring the stairs and simply moving higher by its own means.

[Nathan Cross]

Nathan's skepticism loomed like a shadow as he grappled with the enigmatic situation before him. He had traversed the treacherous terrain of Infernal dealings countless times, having long embraced the tricks and deceptions that came with being a summoner himself. The Infernals, cunning as serpents, had proven to be some of the most formidable adversaries he'd ever encountered, their true intentions hidden beneath layers of deceit. It was a reality he had grown uncomfortably familiar with, epitomized by his ever-elusive Aidolon, Crimson.

Yet, in the depths of his understanding, Nathan couldn't ignore the existence of other realms of summoning. While he specialized in communing with the Infernals, he had always recognized the inherent difficulty, if not the near impossibility, of bridging the chasm between his sphere and others. The current tear in the fabric of reality, the explosion, and the gradual thinning of the veil separating his world from 'theirs,' introduced a disconcerting uncertainty into the equation. Perhaps, he considered, this chaotic convergence could compel spirits from other spheres to seek communication with him.

Nathan, his senses heightened by the gravity of the moment, drew a contemplative drag from his cigarette. His eyes widened as the entity divulged the option of bestowing the Key.

"So, granting the Key is easier than empowering me to undo this mess?" he muttered, captivated by the otherworldly figure that straddled the boundaries of existence. The entity shifted fluidly, morphing in gender and size, a peculiar transformation that didn't escape Nathan's watchful gaze. He wondered if it sought to adopt a form more akin to his own, a gesture laced with intrigue and perhaps an attempt to gain his trust.

Before he could utter another question, Nathan's voice caught in his throat as the entity, with a mere wave of its hand, made a section of the wall vanish into thin air. The sudden revelation sent a shiver down his spine, unsettling yet alluring. For now, I've hidden it safely within our old Haunt, a place where none but us can reach it, echoed the cryptic words from the enigmatic letter his father left behind, the phrase 'no one but us' echoing in his thoughts like a haunting refrain.

Standing before the now-open doorway, he couldn't help but repeat the phrase aloud, each word heavy with intrigue. "No one but us," he murmured, his gaze locked onto the initials inscribed in his father's enigmatic letter. "R?" he inquired the entity, the question lingering in the air.

[Rune]

The entity did not seem to answer to the single letter as a name, but it did stop when it heard Nathan speaking. At the top of the stairs it hovered, waiting his approach. If it did follow it he would find himself in a room that looked quite like a study until one looked closer.

The books on the shelves were all the same book, or, at least they all had the same leather bound black cover. If one looked closer one would see that each had a tiny gold-lead number or letter inscribed on the outward facing side. Some had stranger characters, neither numerical or from the Common alphabet, but always just one, never enough to tell what might be inside any of them. There was a desk with an inkwell and set of pens all neatly laid out, but the inkwell appeared to be empty and it was clear with no stains, as though it had never contained ink. There was paper set out, at the angle that Nathan knew his father would have set it, as though a message was about to be written, but it remained blank. The whole desk was covered in a thin coating of dust that had not been disturbed in at least a year, almost everything in the room was likewise, except the books on the shelves, which stood out for remaining perfectly clean and...

Off to one side there was a small table, distinct in that it stood entirely by itself with no apparent purpose. It was round and of a size such that, had it been in a room downstairs one might have used it to put a vase of flowers on or set use to hold a drink between sips. The apparition glided over to stand by it as soon as Nathan should set foot into the room, hovering there as though waiting for him to come look at it.

From the top of the stairs it didn't appear that anything was on the table at all, but, should it be approached, should it be touched, as Nathan's hand neared it two things would appear. The first, as in answer to Nathan's plea to whoever might be listening, was a key. It was large, brass, and ornate with a black satin ribbon looped through the top. Beside it there was a single piece of paper folded once, that could be seen to have writing on the inside. The outside of the paper had intricate swirls and patterns over it that, for no discernible reason, reminded the one who saw it of the Spirit that had led the way.

If the note was unfolded it would read,

Cross,

I require you for a consultation.

I will send one of mine to find you, they will wait until you return and then bring you to me.

Bring The Key.

Eshar

[Nathan Cross]

Nathan observed the entity's subtle reaction, making a mental note of its responses. Unconsciously, he ascended the stairs, propelled by a potent mix of curiosity and a lingering sense of destiny. As he reached the summit, a peculiar familiarity washed over him. The hidden study resembled the one below, concealed behind the bookcase with a locking mechanism activated by the correct sequence played on the grand piano. However, this upper sanctum seemed impervious to mundane discovery, hinting at a connection to supernatural forces.

He ventured into the study, his focus immediately drawn to the bookshelf. Unlike typical collections, every tome shared a uniformity of black leather binding. Nathan inspected the books, noting gold-leafed symbols that eluded recognition in any common alphabet. A cautious hesitation held him back from investigating further, fearing that disturbing the books might trigger consequences akin to the piano's mechanism. His finger traced the titles, revealing an absence of dust—a peculiar detail that lingered in his thoughts.

Surveying the room, Nathan discovered a desk adorned with an inkwell, pens, and an empty paper, poised at an angle he remembered well from his childhood. Dust collected on the surface, contrasting with the pristine condition of the books. Puzzled by this incongruity, he shifted his attention to the entity hovering near a small table.

"Seems you have something to reveal," he remarked, closing the distance to the table, only to find it bare.

Nathan sighed, a mixture of frustration and amusement playing across his features. "You must be joking," he muttered, scrutinizing the entity and then turning his gaze to the empty table. An idea sparked in his mind, and he reached out to touch it. To his astonishment, a key materialized, accompanied by a folded paper.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," he mused, examining the key—an ornate brass creation with a black satin ribbon. A wry smile formed as he opened the folded paper, revealing a message addressed to his father, from Eshar.

Well, Eshar, you're a bit late for a consultation. I'm the only one left, he thought, a tinge of melancholy shadowing his features. He looked at the hovering entity, recalling the Grand Marshal's question that still echoed in his mind: "Why are you here?"

Taking a deep breath, Nathan sighed. "To finish what he started," he muttered, resolving to honor his father's legacy. "So," he addressed the entity, "let's get going. Father have a," he corrected himself with a shake of his head, "I'm sure I have a long-overdue consultation awaiting."

[Rune]

Once the paper was read the entity seemed to grow agitated; not in any emotional way, but as water heated grows toward the agitation of boiling. The edges began to blur further and, when Nathan spoke to it, acknowledging his intention to attend the long neglected consultation, it morphed from a creature to a portal. The features of limb and face widened and spread until one might never have known it was a being at all. The height remained the same, a bit taller than Nathan himself, but the shape was now that of an arched opening. Through it could be seen a room entirely unlike the one he stood in. Rather than the cold, studious the glimpse through the portal revealed what might have been the entrance to a comfortable home of middling wealth, or perhaps that of a hunting lodge. The space was longer than it was wide, a large fireplace could be seen blazing at one end and there were trophies of woodland creatures hanging about the wall as well as paintings and a large, plush rug covered most of the floor. There were no people to be seen, nor any voices to be heard and while the whole scene looked cozy and inviting there was also something odd about it, as though the eye did not want to linger too long on any one thing within. If one spend a moment looking at the study, solid and normal as it was, and then into the portal, one got the sense that what lay within wasn't real in quite the same way as what lay without. Even so, no sense of danger accompanied the oddity, in fact, quite the opposite; the space felt safe and comfortable.

No one called to him and there seemed to be no additional information forthcoming from the entity that now served as a doorway, but the intention was quite clearly that Nathan, or, more likely, his father, was intended to enter.

[Nathan Cross]

"Well, I didn't expect that." He muttered as he stood in awe as the transformation unfolded before him.

The portal hovered before Nathan, maintaining its height. It would be nice to have personal transportation such as this. He thought to himself as he observed a surreal scene materialized within its confines. Gone was the austere environment of the study; instead, he glimpsed the entrance to a welcoming abode, resonating with the warmth of middling wealth or the coziness of a hunting lodge. A roaring fireplace dominated one end of the space, adorned with trophies of woodland creatures and framed by paintings that added a touch of character. A plush rug covered most of the floor, completing the picture of a comfortable retreat.

"It felt a bit nostalgic….." he sighed and observed the room. Nathan felt a disconcerting sensation, a subtle disconnect between the reality of the study and the portal's alluring depiction. It wasn't a matter of danger; an inexplicable paradox lingered in the air. Despite the oddity, an undeniable feeling of safety and comfort emanated within the portal. As Nathan contemplated the dual realities before him, the entity, now a conduit rather than a creature, remained silent. No voices beckoned him, and no additional information was forthcoming.

His gaze shifted between the familiar study and the captivating scene beyond the portal. The decision hung in the air, fraught with uncertainty. The entity's transformation left him with more questions than answers. What awaited him on the other side? Nathan's curiosity battled with caution, a dance between the rational mind and the allure of the unknown.

He took a tentative step toward the portal, the air tingling with anticipation. The paper in his hand, now rendered insignificant after this extraordinary revelation, crinkled slightly as his grip tightened. The warmth from the fireplace within the portal seemed to beckon, a magnetic pull drawing him closer.

Nathan's mind raced with possibilities and uncertainties. Was this an opportunity or a test? A gateway to answers or a rabbit hole of endless mysteries? With a deep breath, he steeled himself and crossed the threshold, fueled by a blend of curiosity and determination.

The transition was seamless as if he had stepped through an invisible curtain. The study vanished, replaced by the comforting scene within the portal. Nathan's eyes wandered around the room, and unconsciously, he couldn't help but feel that staring too long at something in the room didn't feel right. He was letting his gaze dart around the room. "Eshar? I am Nathan Cross. I'm here in place of my father, as he had long departed." He introduced himself out loud.

[Rune]

Once Nathan had stepped through, the portal had been gone as though it had never been there. If he took his time to look around the room now that he was fully inside it his keep mind told him that there were oddities but what they were took longer, perhaps, than they should have, to become obvious.

The first was that there was no doors or windows whatsoever. The second was that there were no candles nor obvious means of other lighting either magical or mundane. Despite this, the room was well lit and significantly better lit than the fireplace alone could account for. After a few minutes, for Nathan was left there alone to look for at least that long, other, lesser oddities began to reveal themselves. The animals, people and landscapes in the paintings... did they change? When he looked away from one and then back there was always a moment when his mind told him that the object had changed but even if he looked carefully and then back he could never pinpoint what it was that he felt had changed. Additionally, each of the creatures, whether painted of trophy, wasn't quite the thing it looked like. They might have looping horns or too many nostrils, small things, but large when one realized that none of them were wholly normal.

Even with all this, the atmosphere of the space didn't become creepy or uncomfortable, nor did it become stuffy from the fire despite no obvious way to air to move into or out of the room. Without any way to accurately tell time, Nathan might have been there for hours looking around but it didn't feel that long before, at last, the sound of someone approaching came from the opposite side of the room that he was facing. A doorway was there now, not a door that might have been hidden and opened, just a door frame of prettily carved wood. Through it stepped a person of about Nathan's height. They were slim with dark hair cut in a manner that didn't immediately give the indication of either gender. There was a book in their hand and they seemed fully engrossed, not expecting anyone to be in the room at all. When they glanced Nathan our of the corner of their eye and looked up, obvious surprise on their face, it was no easier to tell if they were a man or a woman. Strikingly pretty, but with features that were some masculine, some feminine and some neutral.

Though surprised the person didn't seem alarmed, only closed their book and examined Nathan saying,

"What have we here?" Their eyes darted to the side as though hearing something that Nathan could not and then one of their sharp eyebrows rose.

"Cross? Really? Well," Bright yellow eyes examined Nathan more thoroughly, "You're almost as late as your father. I suppose you found his key."