Shadows and Sorrow. Part 1.

The Past.

70 years from the present day.

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Kyric was a loner. An introvert.

Hermit-like even, some would say.

This was okay with him. It was his nature.

It was his wont.

He was never one for group activities or participating.

Nor did he feel he was cut out for any of them anyway. Alone is what he was, and alone is what he typically wanted to be. Alone he could study. He could learn. People were a distraction. Always wanting or needing something. This annoyed him profoundly. Not really due to the inconvenience it brought him, but moreover because he understood why, for he was only and just as human.

But knowing and caring are two very separate things.

Alone he could have his way with his time.

Alone he could compile knowledge.

Alone he could dive deeply into the world and language that was Magic.

alas, it was not meant to be so.

For fate, oh how fate had plans for this one.

Kyric would be many, many things in his 1000 years of existence.

Alone would never be one of them.

The first rays of the western sun slipped coyly between the black beaded ropes that served as his bedroom curtains. As was typical, Kyric was awake with those first rays, a habit he had formed with time. To be up earlier meant he could spend that much more time doing what he liked to do best. Learn things.

He fashioned himself to be far more of an intellect than the average Sophomore. Even being surrounded by a score of other mages of not-so-little talent daily did little to lessen this fact in his ever-growing mind.

Of his considerable knowledge base, he was proud. His was a sense of pride that was honestly and truthfully earned.

Kyric let the lines of solar light crawl slowly up his feet, warming them just as slowly as they went. For some reason, he felt the need to linger this morning.

No. The WANT to linger.

Kyric was not one to linger. There was never a NEED for it. He only did what needed to be done. Never more, nor ever less.

Ever.

He was one of few actions... without reason that is.

This trait often seen him left out or cast aside when it came to many things around the Grounds. Social activities that he would rather be avoiding anyway I assure you.

But today... this felt okay to him today.

He pushed himself into a sitting position on his thick, cotton-topped bed just as the beams crested his knees and ever so incrementally began the descent on the opposing side. He felt well rested. Far more so than he normally did.

Kyric was not one to wake thus... He was not even one to sleep often, if ever.

He didn't need it. His body just wanted it every now and again, as he was still only human.

Okay...to be honest, this was also the side effect of a long-forgotten sigel he had woven over himself long before he was of the proper age or requisite for such magics. A sigil that he had found, studied, and "learned" in a week's time when he was but eight.

A sigil that took many students at least till their junior year in one of the Grounds of Naeri to come close to understanding...

That story is for another time.

Yesterday had been so very long, and the night it now seemed, had been so very short.

"Good shit."

He mused aloud to himself as the idea of spending an entire day crossing a few spells off of his considerable list jumped to the forefront of his mind. Less sleep, less time lost doing something that he was not consciously able to control.

He tossed his blanket aside to free his entangled legs and slipped his feet into his house shoes. On the end table just to the side of his bed sat his trusty tome Odobourdonzo.

As it always did. As it always would.

Every aspiring mage was gifted one upon their enrollment by one of the grounds five Spell Wardens. As such, every single mage was expected to carry theirs on their person for every waking moment of their lives for the four or more years it would take to complete their studies. Each and all were initially the same. Tomes were a sentient thing most often utilized as a teaching and research tool within the Grounds of Naeri by and for the magically inclined, and as such only those who were bonded to them are permitted to have them.

Each tome was enchanted in such a way, that its physical visage would become one of its owner's subconscious manifestations (on average) within the first month spent. This "Blossoming Transformation" (as the Educational Scribes liked to refer to it) was caused by the combination of both the wielder and the tome's experiences and studies.

For example, A mage whose path is that of a Druid may have his or her tome suddenly gain a great affinity to plant life and earth-based magics, thus its visage may take on one that resembles something along those lines: Vines sprouting from and replacing the bindings, paper with a consistency more akin to a leaf, leather covers becoming as tough as bark, and the likes.

But to each was their own. And all were just as and only as unique as their wielder.

Kyric's tome sat in the cool dark of the room.

The sun's beams had yet to meet it. But if they had, they would have not revealed much more than the basic blackened leather covering that adorned each and every mage's tome from the day it was first gifted.

For some reason, Kyric's tome had yet to become... well... anything.

This bothered him.

Nothing bothered Kyric.

He was not one to be bothered so easily, if not ever, so deep were his reserves of patience. But this: this tome had perplexed him since the day he had got it.

It did not react to his touch, as all the other first-year student's tomes had. every tome he had seen outside of his own had carried a faint yet perceivable glow, an aura.

His did not.

It didn't seem to have any inherent traits or abilities.

And every tome came with one. Every tome but his.

It was neither light nor heavy.

It never spoke, yet strangely enough it never really seemed to be listening either. As every great learning tome did.

Kyric came to a sudden conclusion.

These things bothered the E.S's and B.T's far more than they probably should have.

He could tell by the way he would often see them side-eye the strange, mute tome, and whisperer its name in hushed tones as he passed them in the ever-congested halls of some Ground or another.

THAT in turn bothered Kyric.

The thought gave him pause, and he pondered for just a moment why he had been given such a tome in the first place. It, after all, had been left to the Spell Wardens to pair the fledgling mages off with the appropriate tome.

Apparently, someone either had a great deal of faith in him, or a rather serious wager on his downfall.

Either way, he did so love a good, long bout of research. A study. A mystery.

It seemed that even his basic studies could not be fully completed until he could get his tome to blossom.

"Soon enough!"

He huffed to himself as he rose from the bed and gave a great stretch, the tips of his fingers nearly brushing the ceiling as he extended his lanky 6'2 frame to its fullest. He yawned aloud, and in one motion, bent both of his arms at the elbow, hooking his fingers into his tangle of thick long dreadlocks. as he did. He gave his scalp a fine massage, letting his eyes roll about lazily as he did.

He would figure it out. He always did. He had a year's time and more before his final exam, and unlike the other mages, he slept very little leaving him much more time to dive just a bit deeper where it was necessary. He would shower first, then eat.

Neither of which could be ignored any further.

An hour had passed since he had left the bed, and with that time, Kyric had accomplished much. He after all was one for efficiency. He had showered, eaten, cleaned his room, organized his study, finished yesterday's assigned homework, and even set a couple of beakers to a chemical compound drip that he had been studying.

All of this, and he was still yet to discern what he truly wanted to do with his free day.

Tri-Lore was just one of two Grounds that had a six-day school week instead of the normal five-day. This was not only to allow for more study time but also to ensure that their students graduated at the same time as the other four schools.

Tri-Lore's practices of magic, and the study thereof were just a bit more... complex in comparison to say Junt's physical-based combat courses. Where a dedicated Swordsmen could learn or even master a new skill or entire combo in a matter of weeks aided by little more than their rather considerable, and well-honed muscle memory, a Mage could spend months on a single spell only for it to backfire and kill them, or more commonly just not work at all. The physical body could mimic and learn a maneuver. The mind took a bit more pressure than just "repetition" to retain a magical spell.

Magic was not for just anyone.

It took time and lots of it. This in turn required patience and more importantly, deep study.

ACCURATE study.

Time.

patience.

Kyric had more than enough of the both of these.

And the third?

Well, that was privy to perception. With his "ability" to keep awake for extended stretches of time, Kyric had technically surpassed his classmates, and indeed man of his professors by three fold at least when it came to clocked study hours. His knowledge base was quite vast for his age. Or so at least HE thought. He often forgot just how old... or more so, how young he still was just yet. He tended to get ahead of himself a bit. at times.

To know HOW to do something is not to have DONE it. This rule was a verily potent one in the world of magic.

Yes. He would spend the day doing just that: having a nice, deep, thorough study.

He rose from his work desk and walked over to his wash basin, where he proceeded to splash water over his smooth brown-skinned face and neck, doing his best to avoid his jet-black tendril-like hair, while simultaneously riding himself of the chemical residue and what remained of his weariness. He reached with his left hand and grabbed his face towel while his right twisted the knob to halt the water's flow.

From the edge of his vision, he caught movement over his right shoulder...he must have been more tired than he had thought. Directly behind him now was his bookshelf, and on it rested dozens upon dozens of books with just as many varying titles.

Again, something shifted just slightly.

Kyric spun on his heel, sure that even now something had DEFINITELY moved. His eyes caught on an ancient book set to his right and up, near the top of the bookshelf.

"Demonic Sigil Lore." it read.

The movement had come from that book. Or had the book itself moved?

Was he still just tired?

Even as the thought crossed his mind, the book moved for a third time, or more so, it shifted. Kyric knew EVERYTHING about EVERY object in his living quarters... But this? This was new. Different.

Kyric did not like different.

He summoned a bit of magical energy into his left palm for an offensive spell.

The book shifted again, and this time it seemed to tilt forward from its place among the other books. With what appeared to be a bit of a struggle, the book wiggled itself free and "hopped" forward into the thin air that was the space in front of the shelf. In an instant, Kyric shifted his gathered spell energy and altered its purpose. The shadows beneath the bookshelf shifted and became corporal, taking on the shape of a crooked black hand which promptly shot out and snatched the book from its free fall. The hand turned the book over once gently in the air to right its grip, it then stretched the length of the room and sat the book face up on the work desk that which Kyric had stepped away from.

"Curious." He thought aloud.

Random things did often happen with little to no explanation within the walls of Tri-Lore. It was a very, very old place this Ground. Full of old stories, and even older mysteries. But Kyric knew every inch of his quarters. He had enchanted the area heavily against magical intrusion on his first night at the school, and still someone, no... something had enough magical power to operate within the bounds of some of his most potent sigils and warding runes...

He steadied himself, brushing aside the swelling knot that had begun to grow in his stomach. His feet seemed to move of their own accord as he slowly made his way across the room to stand tentatively before the book. This particular book was one that he had read and reread hundreds of times, each time having spawned the same result: Nothing. It was... or up till this point seemed no different than any of his other books. A plain old tool meant for nothing more than to study. It was in no way enchanted, nor was it a tome of any type. For some reason, this did not seem to be the case today.

As he stood looking down at the cold, black book before him, the fine red stitching along its dark edges along with the varied demonic sigels on its aged cover began to glow and pulse with what Kyric for some strange reason perceived as a deep, needing, yet calming and comforting energy.

Kyric knew better.

He knew sigels.

He knew their potential.

He knew the subtle yet powerful effects that they could have on lesser minds.

But his was not such.

Or was it?

The weariness suddenly returned.

And it was that sudden and jarring drain on his energy that snapped him out of the haze that he had just then realized he had been in.

"Dammit! A spe...."

He didn't get the chance to finish the sentence.

The book snapped open and the ancient runes shown across the withered pages glowed white hot.

Runes that Kyric was sure that he had read hundreds of times.

Or had he?

Kyric tried to move...

He could not...

His muscles refused his mental commands.

He tried even just to blink!

It seemed to take every ounce of will he could muster just to THINK about his eyelids...

He failed even this simple motion.

With eyes half shut,

the room went white around him.

The book snapped shut. The light and glow gone just as quickly.

There was silence.

where once Kyric stood there was now not more than his house shoes.

He had simply vanished.