...
There is a specific point when the night breaks.
It is a slow process, true; a gradient. But the first sign of light dispels the darkness and all it brings with one fell stroke. The day spills over the horizon, painting the sky azure and washing away the stars. It is observable. Definitive.
When Amos returns to Mauria and the Total Solar Eclipse ends, the light returns more suddenly than daybreak.
The line that is the edge of the moon's shadow on Holvarth moves with an alacrity that belies its nature as a celestial body. One moment, Amos is dumbfounded from his experience in the extraplanar Palace, returned to Holvarth and staring at the Eclipse, trying to process what happened. The next, he is blinded by the sudden brightness of day.
Leila finishes the scream she started what seems like a lifetime ago.
Time sped up, returning to its normal pace. Leila reached out a hand and grabbed Amos with a motherly strength. She forced his head down, gaze swimming.
"I told you not to look up. I told you..." she was crying again. "Why?"
Amos didn't have an answer for her. He rubbed his eyes, trying to push away the blurriness. Eclipse blindness. His face was swollen still from the fight in the Infinite Lake.
"Look at me, son," Leila whispered.
And he did. Up close, he could see fine. Her blonde hair was tied back, strands and bits of frizz sticking out. There were bags under her stormy eyes; late nights etched onto her face. Her wrinkles seemed deeper than when he had first met her.
I did this.
I got Kien hurt. I make her worry about me.
I'm not good enough at lying.
"I..." Amos began, but trailed off. His voice was stuck in his throat. He looked down, ashamed.
Mum...
Amos whipped around, eyes wide in shock. The voice was familiar: His own. He scanned the tops of the wheat stalks, looking for his soul among them.
"Amos?" he called into the field.
Don't look away.
"Where are you?"
Inside your head. We're sharing now.
"But how? It doesn't hurt..."
I don't know. Something changed, and now I'm stuck watching.
And stop talking out loud, dimwit. I'm in your head. Mum thinks we're insane.
Oh. Sorry.
Turn back around and fix this.
When Amos turned to look back at Leila, the expression on her face was one of horror. She was cringing away from him, hands clasped before her chest. Her lips quivered in a pout, spelling betrayal. Talking to himself was not the correct decision, following an Eclipse.
"Wait, Leila, no. I'm not insane."
"Leila?" her frown deepened.
Shit.
Idiot.
"Mum, sorry. I'm just dizzy. I'm not..." Amos floundered.
Cursed.
"Not cursed."
Thank you.
Leila's expression softened. A familiar look. "Prove it," she said.
"How?"
She hesitated. "I don't know... You've been acting so strange lately. I just- I just want normal back. I want your father to be okay. I want breakfast with my sons. I want those stupid eggs and I want to call you a goose."
"I want that too."
"Then tell me something only my Goose would know." Her eyes were as hard as diamonds, religious fervour and hatred for the Drai battling with apprehension, uncertainty, and love for her son.
Tell her...
Amos listened to the story his soul spun, and repeated every single word. A time when the whole family was together, eating breakfast. Kien had acquiesced and let Leila cook the eggs. She watched them intently, like a hawk. It didn't stop them from burning though. They all laughed when she served them up, but still ate it. Leila said it was extra flavour, Yakob mentioned the health benefits of charcoal, and Amos and Kien couldn't contain their laughter as they tried to force it down.
Over the course of the story, Leila's face smoothed into a smile. It reached her eyes when Amos was done, and she pulled him in for a hug.
Good work, bodysnatcher.
It was mostly you, Amos.
Call me Aquila. Just while you pretend to be me.
Sure.
"Let's go home," Leila said into his shoulder, "and don't tell anyone what you did."
They pass Ink working in the fields on the way home. He was taking a scythe to the wheat, swinging and shuffling forward. He grabbed bundles and put them in a basket on his back. There is a methodical wake of destruction where he has worked, and several filled baskets in a pile. Leila must have shown him how to harvest. He didn't sweat a drop.
A smile almost as radiant as the sun explodes from within him when the newcomer caught sight of his best friend and teacher shuffling through the fields. He waved with his hand over his head, enthusiasm causing his entire body to shake with the movement.
As the two drew nearer, Ink's smile began to fade.
He could make out the dried blood, the tear stains, the torn clothes, the haggard looks, and the exhausted postures. Ink wasn't particularly good at reading body language either. Amos and Leila just looked that fucked up.
"Let me carry him," Ink said. He shrugged off the baskets of wheat and laid down the scythe.
When he shouldered Amos, his muscles rippled like water over smooth rocks. The tattoos stretched where they were visible, dark as ever. Amos gave a half-hearted grunt in protest to being carried, but didn't put up much of a fight.
...
Back at the farmhouse, Ink laid Amos down on the kitchen table. The large window let rays of light from the setting sun spear across the room. Shadows from the bars and the occasional bird flying by danced across the features of the room.
Leila had told him not to take Amos upstairs just yet. She wanted to see if he had any other injuries he was hiding from her.
Kien came in briefly to check on his son. The expression on his face was more than enough to tell Amos exactly how he felt: Powerless.
Power...
The whole time, Amos was silent. Ruminating.
He thought about the Palace, the Gods, the supplicants, and what it meant to be Drai. He didn't feel incredibly powerful.
Then again, the Keeper mentioned something about a ranking system.
I'm a Rank 1 Drai, and there are two souls in my body.
So I must have the paths of both Aries and Cancer!
I wonder what I can do...
When Leila couldn't find any hidden injuries, she released her son from the table. She stayed downstairs to clean traces of blood from it, and take care of Kien. He was still extremely weak.
Ink took Amos upstairs and set him down gingerly on his bed. He sat down opposite him, on Yakob's.
There was a moment of silence - palpable - between them. Amos' beleaguered breathing was the loudest thing in the room. Ink watched his chest rise and fall.
For his part, Amos was too preoccupied with everything that had just happened to even bother trying to converse with Ink.
It was Ink who broke the thick silence first.
"You're different."
The words cut through the air like a knife, landing right in Amos' gut. He sat up and looked at Ink.
"What do you mean, Ink?" Amos said. He could've sworn his tattoos were moving in the shadows of the room.
"I don't know what they call it," Ink said. "I can just feel how different you are. Like my master, but not the same..."
"Tell me about your master."
Ink frowned. "Well, he's strong. Like super strong. He wanted to be stronger, and I was supposed to help him, but then..."
Ink choked up. Tears began to well in his eyes.
"It's okay, Ink. You don't have to tell me everything right now." Amos' curiosity was raging, but he didn't want his friend to be upset.
Ink sniffled, trying to calm himself down between hitching breaths. "Anyway, you feel like a strong person, now."
"I didn't before?" Amos smirked.
Obviously not. I beat you.
Shut up. You played dirty.
"Who are you talking to?" Ink asked.
Amos started.
Was I talking out loud again?
No...
"That voice..." Ink said.
"You can hear the voice in my head?"
Ink nodded. "It's loud."
"Can you read my mind?"
"No, silly. I just have good mana sense."
"So that must be how you can tell I'm different now!"
"Yeah, your mana is weird."
Amos chewed his lip.
Don't tell him.
"Don't tell me what?"
He already knows, Aquila.
"Ink..." Amos said, "what I'm about to tell you - no one else can know."
Ink's eyes sparkled. "A secret?"
"Yes."
"We really are best friends!" Ink jumped up and wrapped his arms around Amos. He squeezed a little too tightly.
"Ow! I've just been beat up, Ink."
"Okay, okay," Ink said, retreating, but no less eager. "Tell me!"
So Amos recounted his story so far. All of it. He included the transmigration, Amos' soul, his true identity, the many trips to the Infinite Lake, Xaemarra and Shanty - the offer to join them, the eclipse, becoming a Drai, and now the voice of his soul.
"Woah..." Ink said when Amos was done. He leaned back. "So what does a Drai do?"
"Honestly, I don't know," Amos responded.
"You should try something," Ink said.
"Uh... okay."
Amos didn't know what he was supposed to be trying, but he closed his eyes. He tensed his entire body until he was shaking. Nothing seemed to be happening.
He thrust his hand out like he had seen so many wizards, sorcerers, and magicians do in multiple forms of media on his original world.
As he did so, there was an increase in pressure in the room. The air shimmered. Something else was there with them.
He felt a release - what Amos assumed was mana flowed from his core into his arm, then out through his hand. There was a flash and a gentle pop as a burst of flame exploded from his palm.
It wasn't a stream of fire, or even something like you might see on a candle. Just a tiny little explosion of heat and light, produced from within Amos himself. He felt proud at this little accomplishment.
"So cool!" Ink said.
"It kind of hurt... I don't think I'm immune to the fire."
That's a bit useless.
I'm only Rank 1...
So we have to get stronger.
Amos just nodded.
"Anyway," Ink said, reclining again. "The Infinite Lake is a good name for that place. My master always called it Soul Space, so that's probably the official name."
"Your master knows about the Lake? Soul Space?" Amos leaned forward.
"Yeah, he made it."
The sun was dipping below the horizon outside the window. The sky was sprayed gold and purple and orange - a spectrum of warm tones caught by wispy clouds. In the distance, cresting the hills outside the Aquila family farm, was a silhouetted caravan.
Amos...
"Hold that thought, Ink." Amos held a finger up to him. He walked over to the window and peered out.
The caravan drew nearer. It was a simple affair - drawn by two horses and accompanied by a single rider on the outside. They didn't look like trouble, except for the banner.
Attached to the back of the caravan, flapping in the wind, was a tall banner of blood red fabric. In the dim light of dusk, Amos could just barely ascertain the symbol painted in dark ink with a steady hand: A potion bottle with two crossed arms underneath. A skull in the centre.
This is bad.
Really fucking bad.
"What is it?" Ink sidled up next to Amos, and leaned out the window next to him.
And Amos knew. Aquila didn't have to tell him.
"The Trenmir."