Type of mage: Name of Affinity Patron

Aeromancer Aer Aeris

Hydromancer Aqer Diane

-Glossary of Affinities and their Primals, Nys’vera Aesterith’s Treatise on Mana.

In a humid cave, water plinked off the wet mossy rocks, slowly icing over. Doubtless, the wintry air was the cause of the hoarfrost that clung, stubbornly to stalagmites bestrewn around the subterranean hollow.

One would have been hard-pressed to find life in such conditions and yet, there it was. In various forms, life abounded, scuttling, hopping and flying through the subterranean ecosystem, punctuating the eerie gloom with bioluminescence.

Nonetheless the duplet of wind sighing from an open skylight and a deep rumble resonating through the grotto’s walls was rudely interrupted by the sound of heaving and coughing of a young human. He was the only oddity in that environment. And that not in the sense that his presence was an intrusion into a hitherto, unspoiled biome. That was not it at all.

What was anomalous about him was everything. From the wet, alien garb clinging to his body to the manner of contraption he was strapped to. They were not of this place—neither was he.

Expediting the languid awakening of the youth, were the sun rays of high noon bursting through the cloud cover and through the yawning fissure on the cave's ceiling. His closed eyes could do naught against the harsh light lancing past his eyelids; It was as though someone was searing his face with a halogen lamp. With a start, he awoke, suddenly drawn breaths triggering a hacking, phlegmy cough as fluid went down the wrong pipe.

“Hmm? Where am I?” He rasped, eyes darting to foreign surroundings as they adjusted to the radiant onslaught. Coming to, he found the cause of his rude awakening—He was smack-dab in the middle of the rays of the afternoon sun.

Examining his immediate vicinity, yielded nothing but the awareness that he was on a miniature island of rocks rising from a small lake. And the further he looked on, the darker his environs became until they were cloaked in semi-darkness.

For someone who’d woken up in a strange place, his reaction was a tad underwhelming. Perhaps, his insouciant appraisal of his alien surroundings might have been a result of his groggy state of mind. That, or he was simply confused past the point of indecision.

Gradually, as his mind caught up, a painful throbbing made itself known on the sides of his temples as though his head was a few sizes too small. He would have been forgiven for thinking that his heart was now a rowdy cranial tenant hammering away in his head, unheeding of the protestations of his fugue-addled brain.

That would not have been further from the truth if every attempt to recall his bearings or sift through his memories kept sending pain lancing at his eyeballs.

On the least of thorny things in his side, the aforementioned was nothing compared to the incessant thirst ravaging his already sore throat. His tongue was no better, tasting foul of bile heaved from his own stomach and the feeling of having eaten a handful of sawdust. His throat was sore and dry.

In the end, what took precedence of his immediate concerns was the chilly air biting at his skin through his soaked clothing. They were sapping his body heat and sooner or later, he would have been robbed of all but the smallest flicker of warmth. It was therefore, with difficulty that he unbuckled himself from the seat harnesses and started undressing, stripping down to his underclothes.

That his aviator jacket was the driest of his garments was godsend. Its leather was water-proof and the middling heat diffusing from the shafts of light that roused him made sure it stayed that way. The rest of his outfit, shirt, undershirt as well as his socks, boots and pants were all sopping wet.

Still perplexed at this state of being, his immediate conclusion was that some thunderhead had seen it fit to baptize him several inches of rain while he’d been comatose. That the rocks upon which his seat lay were fast losing their moisture put the occurrence at a few minutes past.

Of course his first thought was that something had gone terribly wrong but to what extent, he had not the headspace to discern. Not unless he took care of his immediate concerns—hypothermia; else there wouldn't be much thinking to do if his brain shut itself down.

The first thing he did was take stock of everything that was familiar to him, even as he shivered in the scant lightrays to get whatever little of their warmth yield to him. The closest thing on hand was his watch, a glimpse showing a wonky compass bezel. The northerly pointer kept rotating whichever which way as though the poles oscillated about the planet’s axis. The second closest thing was the seat.

‘The seat!’, realization dawned on him. Then his thoughts cut off, fuzzing as a mental wall blocked the rest of his remembrance. He winced as he felt another pile driver of pain go through his head and he immediately aborted that course of action. Until his head didn't feel like someone constantly trying to press a vice about his temples, he would live the mental heavy lifting for later.

‘Right…the cold’ he remembered. Stripped down to his underwear, he wrung and hung his wet clothes to dry on the seat's arm and head rests. Chattering teeth made him clench his jaw as he feared the rattling movements would exacerbate his pounding head. Desperately, he rubbed at his elbows to try coax some heat into his clammy skin as he tried to look for anything in his environs that would provide immediate relief to the wintry situation.

“Brrr, fire…” he muttered, flexing his pruney fingers which ached along with the rest of his joints. He felt as if he’d been tossed through a grinder. Unbidden, another figurative headache for him to contend with announced its arrival through the gnawing sensation emanating from his empty stomach. On cue, his stomach gurgled.

“Great, now I’m hungry too,” he smiled wanly. He was lost, cold, half naked and hungry. Things seemed like they’d hit the bottom of the hill. The only lower they could get from there was hell.

Ambling along the periphery of the rocky islet where cold water lapping the shore of scree sent him scampering back, he saw something bobbing on the lake's surface. For an indeterminate amount of time, he stared at the object, turning the familiarity of its features in his mind; then it clicked. Finally, something else that was familiar! It tugged at somewhere in the back of his mind but he could not place it where he remembered it from.

Unfortunately, the object is some little ways away; beyond the reach of anything he had at hand. Some hesitant and hastily done contemplation later, he was dunking his feet in the lake, intending to test how much cold water he’d have to endure to get what he wanted. Resolute, he slowly waded way into the water but immediately regretted his folly. Precarious footing on dank, slimy moss acquainted him with a cold, jaw locking bath that made his chest muscles spasm.

But he pushed on, stubbornly clinging to that thread of familiarity that edged him towards the object floating on the water. The water came up to his chest as the bank continued sloping further into indeterminate depths.

In a spur of the moment, his muscle memory kicked in. He transitioned from an awkward flail in the water everytime his muscles cramped from the cold, into the graceful strokes of an athlete as he swam towards the floating object. For the first time, something seemed to be going right for him.

Floating on his back, the youth secured his find, gripping its leather straps by his teeth while it sat on his chest. He kicked his legs backwards, using a practiced backstroke to propel himself towards the little island’s banks.

Thereupon the pebbled shore, smooth from years of abrasion the youth lay catching his breath. Heaving from exhaustion, he was still of mind to examine his haul. He’d fished out a genuine leather duffel bag, brown and hand stitched. Even scuffed from years of use, the leather bag, like his aviator jacket, had held its own against the water—a fortuitous occurrence given the circumstances.

Upon closer examination, he found a luggage tag still attached on one of its double zippers. As he grasped, its pristine appearance deceived him; the paper came apart, faulty lamination on the paper being the culprit that let in water. Much to his dismay, its printed letters were smudged from running ink rendering the letters ineligible.

Frustrated, he tossed it aside and opened the zippers, hoping against his skepticism that its contents had not suffered the same fate. He was not disappointed. Inside, lay set of clothing, untouched and dry as the time they’d been packed.

As he rifled further, he unearthed another pair of shoes in a ziploc bag that were just the right size for him. That aside, some random baubles and personal items were also there―like a used swiss knife and phone; but those were not the focus of his search. He was looking for food, even a measly morsel or a crumb was something he'd not have cast aside.

By luck, he found a fix for his hunger. Digging deeper into the bag availed him an assortment of lunch bars and a water flask containing iced tea quenched his thirst. Thereafter he found a beach towel was welcome for drying himself―finally, he could make use of his other clothes to keep away the cold. He was out of danger…for the time being. Some creature comforts and dignity later, he diverted his pursuits to once again, finding his bearings.

Another glimpse of his watch at four o’clock in the afternoon—that said, he was well within his rights to be rather skeptical because his shadow was in the twelve o’clock position. That meant he’d either lost time or gained some, he didn't know which was which.

Looking skyward through the crevice letting whatever little of the afternoon sun-rays reach his lonely islet, he spied the clouds taking on heavier tones. A draft began to pick up somewhere in the cave as he’d dropping the ambient temperature even lower. The man shivered.

The scent of ozone suddenly pervaded his sense of smell, amidst the scent of musty humus and other things he couldn't relate to. Rain was undoubtedly on the forecast―he could at least tell that much and if he didn't find shelter, he shuddered to think that all the effort he'd put thus far would be watered down. Another wet towel for his troubles.

‘Erm, I guess I’ll go deeper into the cave? he thought to himself as he frantically packed his half dried things and clutched his soggy boots by the pits of his arms. Eyeing his diminished span of vision, he frowned ‘ Can’t say I like going in blind though. And its fecking cold too, the hell?. I guess summer is not forever. Mmh, I wonder where I heard that.’’

A few moments later, the youth swam in the undisturbed waters, charting a tenuous path across the lake while keeping an eye out for unsavory things. Per expectation, the frigid draft got weaker the further he swam but in return, the depth of the water plunged sharply.

Without the trapped air in the duffel bag buoying him up he would’ve been in peril, as it was too deep, perhaps twice his height. Besides, visibility was getting poorer as the clouds continued to converge above the poor excuse for a skylight. He could only hope that his paranoia of untold things lurking in wait to grab a bite out of him was ill-founded. Need one repeat that he could only hope?

Not more than three quarters of the way to the other side the once tranquil water started rippling and an eerie electric blue glow lit up from its depths. ‘Nope, nope, nope!’ the young man panicked as he furiously kicked his legs. It was to his horror that the water grew increasingly turbid.

Whether by human instinct or otherwise, the hair on his nape stood on end— something ominous was definitely about to happen. Somewhere at the back of his mind was a niggling spot that itched; his intuition was screaming at him to get out of dodge so he paddled for all he was worth.

He got to the other side with a tail hot on his wake. Hectically throwing his bag ahead, he scrambled for purchase atop the rocky bank, slipping on the colony of algae and almost skinning his knees in the process. A burst of adrenaline shot him clear of the lake’s pebbly shores and despite the unstable footing, his bare feet found found purchase where the smooth pebbles had given way to silt.

On autopilot, the youth extracted his swiss knife, holding it in a reverse grip. He did not bemoan the futility of a utility knife as his choice of weapon―but what could he do? Anything that was sharp cold steel he could interpose between a threat and his squishy flesh was alright in his book. All that mattered was that, if worse came to worst, he could mete out just enough pain to make making a meal out of him unrewarding.

With bated breaths, he waited for his pursuers’ appearance and they were not long in coming. The glow which announced their proximity increased with every moment; so much that he could see more of the cave from where he stood. The scent of ozone in the air also grew heavier, prickling almost uncomfortably against his skin like standing next to a live electric cable.

Whatever predator he was about to face, he thanked his lucky stars that he didn’t have to fight on their turf. It sure looked like a one way ticket to an excruciating death by electrocution, drowning and maiming or a combination of all three. In his mind he imagined giant mutated carnivorous eels, because it was the only thing that could generate an aura that smelt like air after a lightning strike. ‘Nasty,’ he thought, booting the macabre fantasies out of his head.

Anxiety made him want to run further into the cave. Yet, his morbid curiosity to knock down the number of unknowns a peg shored up his false bravado. So it was that the young man’s emotions warred, swinging from one extreme with the tenuity of a rocking pendulum.

The water started frothing, giving way to a pair of inky black eyes. A flat head whose snout featured four whiskers and external gills in a dendritic-like pattern above its neck followed in its wake. Easily the length of a gator, the outlandish creature was neither a reptile, fish nor an amphibian.

The closest approximation was if someone had crossed a catfish with an axolotl and pumped it chockful of anabolic steroids. There was no time to debate the peculiarities of biology because the air around the dendritic appendages crackled with electric currents that lent the air the pungent smell of burnt rubber insulation.

The battle had already been lost before it got underway. With the size of its snout, he'd brought a knife to a chainsaw fight. No way was going to get an attack near a head so wide its lips looked like it could take a death-sized bite out of him. The creature cooed―the man had already grabbed his bag and ran.

Half-stumbling half-running, he put distance between the strange creature and himself. With the cavern lit up like the stage at an electronica concert, there was no argument that there was more than one of them. He beat a hasty retreat till he could no longer see the illumination from the cave.

Half naked, boots under his armpit and bag weighing his left side, only the adrenaline coursing through him drove him on. There was no time to put on shoes and clothes when his life was on the line. Not even the pointy rocks and uneven ground underneath or the cold so annoyingly continued to claw at his body was of consequence as he made his flight.

After an undetermined amount of time had passed when he could no longer keep up the pace as his lungs burned and his feet were sore from running, he slowed. Reduced to navigating by way groping at the cavern rugged walls, he ambled on, still determined to put prime nightmare material behind him

As he went further, the tunnels became less craggy and gradually bio-luminescent flora and fauna began to colour his surroundings from overhead. The ceiling was so high up he had to crane his neck to see the stalactites hanging over his head, home to a colony of indistinct glowing creatures. From a distance they looked like a small sea of scintillating stars. Some stalactites were however, noticeably bare of the things and hung haphazardly, like several iterations of a damoclean sword.

Though they did seem firm enough to go on existing for the foreseeable future, he was leery of having things that looked like they could skewer him teetering above his head. That gave him the second wind to keep moving even as the muscles in his thighs and calves felt like cramping. Annoying, the dip in the lake was paying its own portion of dividends.

The further his feet carried him, the richer the biodiversity became until he was bathed in the glow of light from several different colonies of moss and luminous mushrooms. The latter, he gave a wide berth; nothing screamed toxic more than a neon puffball. Were it under different circumstances, he would’ve enjoyed a scenery resplendent of the nights on Pandora, Now? He was avoiding the walls like the plague.

‘Whatever feck is going on with this ecosystem, I don’t know man.’ he shuddered, jumping out of the way of a mushroom puffing its luminous spores. ‘ I feel like I should start losing hair and having the skin melt off my face just from standing close to these things. I hope they’re not radioactive’ He grimaced.

Though I feel fine…for now. Even if I can’t seem to recall stuff, there is no way this is supposed to be normal.’ The last thought opened a pit in his stomach, loss from knowing there were things he'd forgotten rearing its ugly head . He longed to sit down a spell, gather the tatters of his thoughts and rest but his immediate surroundings were no place for such luxuries.

It was no surprise that his awareness drew inwards as he was lost in his thoughts. He became incognizant of his surroundings and oblivious to the rumbling that emanated from further in the tunnel. He didn't even notice that the walls had turned completely smooth—until his frivolous slog snapped something underfoot.

‘Please don't be my foot!' he cried internally. He squeezed his eyes shut waiting for the excruciating pain that would give him another reason to just want to keel over and die.

Two breaths, five, ten. No pain came. Hesitantly, he opened his eyes and it was then that he noticed the bones scattered around him. They were all in various states of decay, way past the point he couldn't trust to pick some without getting a handful of powder for his troubles. Turning his gaze beneath him, he flinched upon seeing that he’d stepped on a skull, narrowly getting one of its teeth stuck in his big toe. He gingerly stepped away from it.

It was a hominid skull— definitely not human because its salient features were rather bizarre on a child-sized cranium. Looking closely though, he could tell it wasn’t a child’s because the dentition was all wrong; children had no business having all thirty-two of their teeth and canines as big as a thumb.

A realization dawned on him; the graveyard of skeletons and their positions looked like the aftermath of a chaotic battle. Some looked scorched and covered in soot; others were in various states of dismemberment and yet others were still wearing whatever they had in death.

A veritable pile of junk lay around them, like the remains of fungi infested leather shoes, rusted sword hilts, dented helmets and chain mail corroded into red-brown ferric dust. Dread crawled up his spine; the culmination of everything he’d experienced so far paled in comparison to the grim reminder of his mortality.