Prologue

    The Aukan are immortal heroes chosen by the Gods. They serve humans as agents for both the physical celestial world. They were created as protectors, but also as teachers to show humans how to live in harmony with the spirit world. Throughout history, the Aukan have protected humanity from countless horrors. Never has an enemy, man or beast been able to defeat them. However, when Mount Dirge erupted, they could do nothing to stop the kingdom of Tharsis from burning to a lifeless desert. The neighboring kingdom of Vorago was spared from the devastation due to a powerful ward placed just in time by the Aukan of the West, King Voro. With the world’s most industrious nation reduced to a sea of red sand, neither human nor god could prevent the inevitable deterioration of law and order in the face of catastrophe.

    A brutal crime syndicate called the Kadopo rose to power in Vorago when Voro’s disappearance created a political vacuum. With the all the Auka nowhere to be found, the people lived in fear and subjugation under the Kadopo for nearly two decades.

    A small time drug dealer named Caligo lives in a ghost town on the border of Vorago and Tharsis where he watches his people use magic as a weapon. One day, he stumbles upon a fox claiming to be the Aukan of the Northwest. While struggling for his own health and sobriety, Caligo discovers that magic is a powerful weapon, but it can also be a powerful mechanism for change. Sadly, the truth about Vorago’s continued existence is bleak, and he will need to use it as both if he wants to survive.

I am Eigengrau.

The eternal void.

Nothingness incarnate.

Watching, waiting

in the pit of your soul.

You will know me soon.

And you will know

an emptiness

without end.

Chapter Ø: An Evil Wind

    “Phobos is close.” Caligo looked up at the moonlight trickling through the leaves. The forest was quiet. Even the frogs had stopped croaking. The sun had been down for hours, but the oppressive heat persisted, making his slightest movement heavy and sticky.

    Sleeping was no easy task this time of year. The shadows cast through the trees in the red moonlight looked like tiny dragons climbing the wall, jerking and clawing when the wind rustled them. The faded pink rabbit his mother made no longer comforted him.

    Climbing out of bed and right out that window was a journey in and of itself. He climbed into the branches without a sound, half expecting to be greeted with a searing torrent of flames, only to feel the gentle brush of leaves that welcomed him just as they had in the daylight. The realization that he could leave whenever he chose washed over him as he landed on his feet in the yard. There are no dragons in Vorago.

    Watching Clover finish her preparations, he aimlessly pushed around the damp leaves on the forest floor with a stick. The humid summer air carried the scent of their decay. The naked moon called Phobos was in full view, the biggest he had ever seen it. The flames in the pit dancing before him paled in comparison to its crimson glare.

          “This is perfect.” Whispered Clover. “It won’t pass by us any closer for another five years. If you want to do this, tonight is our best chance.” The moon’s unique orbit made it appear larger or smaller in the sky depending on the time of year. On nights when it was this close, there was a strange weightlessness that overcame all manner of creatures. Most found it intoxicating. Caligo felt nauseous.

    Sage burned in a copper bowl by the fire between them. She reached for the smudge feathers she had bundled and decorated herself with dyed leather. She had a habit of taking feathers from the birds the cat killed, sorting feverishly through the bloody pile for its prettiest parts. She only laughed when her aunt cursed the animals for soiling her clean floor. Bloodshed was of little consequence.

          “Let’s just get this over with.” Caligo sighed.

    They discovered the ruins of what appeared to be an ancient shrine deep in the woods, and had been sneaking out to play in them almost every day. He looked down at the markings in the stone beneath them. North, South, East and West were marked around the fire with different colored gems: White, black, blue and red respectively. Few webs of tangled ivy covered much of the design in the steps and remaining walls. From what he could see, they must have been very beautiful in their day.

    Caligo’s cousin had a serious affinity for all things regarding magic, especially the lore of the Aukan heros. She had a way of luring him into all kinds of games and make-believe worlds where they fought monsters and healed the sick. This time, Caligo had the distinct feeling she was serious. This time, it wasn’t just make-believe. Though it was not uncommon to see her holed up in his father’s study reading, these last two months, she hardly even left for meals. She devoured every last book they had on exorcism rituals and mana control. Her knowledge and skill in magic was far beyond what was expected for a child her age. Caligo was admittedly jealous.

           “Don’t you get it?” Said Clover. “Phobos is a portal to the spirit world, not just some big rock. We can’t just ignore it when it’s this close to us. This is our chance to use our magic to its fullest.” She looked down at her fist. “Can’t you feel it Caligo?” She whispered breathlessly.

    A warm breeze sent shivers down his spine. None of the leaves seemed to be moving. “I don’t know...” He said. He tried to swallow his saliva, thickened with anticipation. “I don’t feel good… Why don’t we just turn back?” The dim light he knew wasn’t really there began to flicker. He tried to focus on the flames dancing around in front of him, but his eyes had been playing tricks on him all day. He was no longer sure what was real anymore. At this point, if he wanted to turn back, he would need assistance finding his way. Once he started having auras, there was little he could do except wait until he lost consciousness. His seizures came as a relief sometimes. Like letting out a sneeze. He would lean into them.

          “Come on, we’ve talked about this. You’ve been taking your meds, right?” Said Clover. Her amber eyes were dazzling in the light of the fire. Her dark complexion was in stark contrast to Caligo’s, whose pale skin reflected the light. His blue-grey hair fell into his face where it usually rested.

          “Yeah…” He knew where this was going. He doubted an 11 year-old girl with some feathers was going to cure him when his doctors couldn’t. Caligo suffered from a unique recipe of epilepsy on a bed of chronic dissociation, served up with a side order of we don’t know. His servers always brought it out with a cocktail of –ines and –ides that just left him feeling sick, all the while being told: drink it up, it’s good for you.

          “And do you feel any better?” She asked.

          “…No.” A shimmering slug wriggled across his fluttering field of vision. “It’s… worse.” He admitted.

          “Exactly. It’s time for a new approach. Worst case, nothing happens, and you’re no worse off, but I’m pretty sure that what’s ailing you is just a garden-variety spirit possession. The Elysians do this all the time. Just close your eyes- and try to take it seriously?” She giggled. Her comforting smile was hard to appreciate through the auras. “I know you don’t really care for magic, but just humor me here, okay?” She sat up straight, waving the feathers in the smoke. The pitch of her voice begin to rise and fall in his perception as she chanted in Elysian, the ancient language of shamans. It was just as well that the auras were so intense, he didn’t understand it anyhow. He watched the tendrils of smoke disappear into the night sky before closing his eyes.

           Finally his consciousness began to shift. Instead of slipping away as it usually did, it seemed to disintegrate into tiny flakes, like bits of ash in the wind. Unfortunately, Clover was wrong. Nothing was far from the worst that could happen. What did happen would take years of sorting through nightmares and memory. Each night the two became less and less distinguishable from each other. It was like culling through a pile of ripped up photos, some of his, and some of a stranger's.

    He had pancakes for breakfast. He tripped on a pile of books in the hallway on his way to the study. He found a caterpillar on the windowsill and was afraid to touch it. A scattered stream of images and moments in time were all he could recall of that day for years. Perhaps he hadn’t the fortitude to delve deeper, or perhaps he simply chose not to. The doctors told him that the human brain sometimes blocks out memories that are too painful to process.

    What he did remember, he resolved himself to keep sealed away in the most private crypt of his mind. He remembered the wind. He remembered that human blood tasted markedly different than animal blood. He remembered the crack of the skull and how quickly her heart could pump blood into dead leaves. He remembered that if he really needed to, he could drag a wet body half a mile through the woods, and if he screamed loud enough, he could drown out the voices, if only for a few seconds.

    He remembered the emptiness. The unknowable void of darkness that washed over him when he realized she was gone. Caligo was still not alone.

4 Years later-

    Lan stepped back and waited for his vision to clear. The blow to his head might have knocked him out if he hadn't been training so extensively as of late. Forcing the air in and out of his overworked lungs, he wiped a drop of blood from the corner of his mouth, leaving a dark smear on his ivory skin. The red glow of a far off Phobos dimly lit the night sky, providing just enough visibility to size up the opponent. As the demon came into view, Lan formulated his plan. Its thick skin and fur were like armor he could not penetrate with a normal sword. Luckily, the dagger strapped to his leg had the perfect spell embedded. Might as well try this one out now.

    Scraping at the ground with its thick yellowed hooves, the beast lowered its massive head and charged forward. Darting to the side, Lan grabbed its left horn, redirecting the charge with what little body weight he had, tossing it straight into a pile of rubble. Pull when pushed.

    A nearly lifeless body slumped against a wall, still clutching a syringe filled with a fluorescent red liquid as his blood crept along the pavement. “Jax!” Calling to him was pointless. Lan knew he was going to die, even if he did have the energy to heal him, he hadn’t the skill. I wish Soma was here. He had just enough time to grab the syringe while the demon regained its stance. A gust of air rushed through its wide leathery nostrils. Its large form was deceptively fast, and before he could stand back up, it grabbed his hair. There were a few things Lan could have done to get himself out of this position, however, his Moshu was rusty and he was relying purely on physical attacks. Furthermore, nothing in this world could make him even dream of damaging his beautiful red hair. Both his body and spirit were pushed to their limit.

    Laughter echoed from the the end of the alley as the thing dragged Lan by the hair across the bloody pavement. It was Muon. "Why does a little kid like you care about some junkie?" He stopped laughing when Lan found his footing against the dumpster and thrust his blade into his demon’s chest. Push when pulled.

    "Because." Lan pulled his dagger from the beast. "If that drug is what it looks like, a lot of people are gonna die. It will cripple what is left of the Western world. I’m not gonna lose this country too!"

    Muon smirked. “So you do have a soft spot for Vorago.”  Lan took the opportunity to push his blade as deep as he could into the lifeless demon’s thick neck. The muscle and sinew proved too tough to carve all the way through. He thought at least partially decapitating it might buy him some more time if the spell didn’t work.

    Jax still lay against the building gasping for air. Before the blood on Lan’s hands and arms could even dry, a loud crack sounded and the beast was back on its feet. He watched the luminous quality leave the liquid as Jax drew his last breath. Dammit. The beast could not be destroyed by any means available to him. Deep down, he knew that from the beginning. Having nothing left to fight for, he made the decision to retreat.

    Lan moved much faster in his spirit animal form, but the fight had stripped him of nearly all his chi. He had to rest and recuperate before any of his abilities could return.  He retreated to the hospital complex a few blocks away, bloodied and bruised. He could sense Caligo’s unmistakable aura near by. He had become accustomed to it, and took what he might almost call comfort in it.

    Lan stopped in the middle of the empty lot and let the syringe fall to the ground. It was useless now. The once glowing crimson looked like nothing more than half-clotted blood. He used the foot that still had a shoe on it to crush the syringe into the pavement and limp away. Desperation was a foreign sensation. It had been centuries since he was pushed to his breaking point like this. He sneered at the thought of being bested by a lowly terrestrial beast as he applied pressure to the still bleeding wound on his arm. I don’t know how much longer I can live like this.